Derek is absolutely sick of the constant sexual tension between Stiles and Lydia he keeps smelling ever since he got back to beacon hills, so he decides to do something about it and get these two crazy kids together. He keeps telling Braedan it’s only so that he won’t have to get ‘tortured’ every pack meeting, it has nothing to do with the fact he just wants them to be happy
And so, the three of them sat, one in silence, the other two somehow joking and bickering at the same time. Francisca passively came to know her granddaughters new friends, and decided along the way that they weren’t so bad. They seemed like honest people. No pretense, no silliness. They were grounded, in a way that many weren’t.
Sure, they argued, and cursed, and they couldn’t handle their spice, but Francisca had to admit they were better than the friends she kept at Rita’s age.
A memory flashed before Francisca’s eyes. She stood in a park, surrounded by people whose faces she recognized but they had no names. They were her friends from all that time ago.
Francisca didn’t remember much at all about her life anymore. It all became a distorted blur once the reaper severed her soul from her worldly attachment. Yet, somehow she recognized her granddaughter immediately, even though time had passed and Rita was older now.
How many years had she been wandering?
Having Rita nearby was enough for Francisca to form a weak tether to the world of the living. Memories came flooding back. Francisca’s granddaughter, Rita, was first, but then she remembered her grandson. A ghost boy, whose name she’d soon recall. Then her children. Three of them. Two boys, a girl. Oh, the girl gave her such grief. Yet, the memory of her felt warm, and nurturing. Francisca had a husband, too,long lost to time and memory. A mother, a father. An enemy. A fortune. A fantastic loss. Sitting atop the sea, a town she called home. A lifetime of trials and successes came back, back into her mind like a flower garden finally sprouting again after the last bitter cold of winter was dissipated by the peaking sun.
week 6. february is here and my bullet is still kinda blank!! im super happy because im nearly done with setting up my bullet journal. the weekly spread is inspired from @studytildawn 💓taken from my ig: europhias 🌟
Much to Rita’s dismay, Francisca’s eyes locked with hers and a moment of recognition flashed across her transparent face. Crap. Rita was really done for now. Francisca floated over to their table and took a seat beside, who had just walked over with his own serving of spicy curry. The tension between Rita and her silent abuela made the next few seconds stretch on for what felt like minutes. Eva and Sterling clearly didn’t notice the fourth guest joining them at the table. They talked and laughed like nothing at all was amiss.
Rita sprang to her feet, heart echoing in her chest, sweat bullets streaming down both sides of her face.
Rita: “I uh…really have to go to the bathroom. I will be a while. Don’twaitup.”
She turned, rolled her eyes at herself for coming up with such a lame excuse, and took off. She ducked and swerved around fair-goers until she disappeared from her grandma’s view. It wasn’t until she ducked into one of the bathroom stalls that her breathing relaxed to a semi-normal pace. They weren’t gunna catch her tonight. If they were going to take her back to Windenburg, she’d go kicking and screaming.