#Anyway Callie was a character who was warm hearted to a fault

[hatchetation]

The worst character assassination on the planet was grey’s anatomy making calliope torres battle for sole custody of sofia and act like arizona had never been a true mother to their daughter. Sorry but the callie torres I know had the biggest, most loving and generous heart and she would have NEVER

[meadweos]

Hello! I’m Ellie, this is Dorcas and I hope you enjoy this trainwreck of a soft as all hell introduction to my babe. I’m super excited to be writing here okay byeeeeeeeee.

is that LILY JAMES wearing that HUFFLEPUFF scarf ? no, it appears to be DORCAS MEADOWES who happens to be a SEVENTH year and a MUGGLEBORN !! SHE is CISFEMALE, and i heard they’re COMPASSIONATE and BENEVOLENT but might also seem NAIVE and DAMAGED. they appear to be leaning towards the side of the ORDER, but this is a conversation we should be having somewhere else. ( ellie / nineteen / gmt / she/her )

TRIGGER WARNINGS : death, injury, hospital mention, dogs.

PART ONE. BASICS / MAGICAL FULL NAME & MEANINGS  : Dorcas ( GAZELLE ) Andromache ( MAN / BATTLE ) Meadowes ( LIVED IN OR NEAR A MEADOW. ) DATE OF BIRTH : November 16th. AGE : 17. ZODIAC SIGN : Scorpio. HEIGHT : 5 ft 7 in. EYE COLOR : Dark brown. LEFT OR RIGHT HANDED : Ambidextrous.  FAVORITE COLOR : Light blue / black. SCHOOL : Hogwarts. BLOOD STATUS : Muggleborn. WHAT ARE THEIR PARENTS JOBS? : Her mother was a stay-at-home tutor, and her father was a doctor. ( Her aunt is a therapist. Her uncle is a lawyer. ) DO THEY HAVE ANY MAGICAL BLOOD? : Not in her immediate family. Her fifth, twice removed, much, much older cousin is a wizard (of Emeric Switch fame! Imagine that!) HOW DID THEIR MAGIC FIRST MANIFEST ITSELF? : She wanted to talk to the dogs at the local pet store, and accidentally ‘phased’ through the door. She was found half an hour later just stroking a pitbull puppy which had latched itself onto her. YEAR : Seventh year. HOUSE : Hufflepuff. PATRONUS : Panda. ( THE PANDA IS A RESOURCEFUL ANIMAL, AND THOSE WITH IT AS A PATRONUS ARE THE SAME. THEY ARE GOOD AT USING WHATEVER IS AROUND THEM, AND INCREDIBLY CREATIVE AND BRIGHT. THEY ARE FRIENDLY AND WARM, AND MANY MAY GO TO THEM FOR ADVICE OR HELP, WHICH THE PANDA WILL WILLINGLY GIVE. THEY ARE A BIT OF A HEALER BY NATURE, ENJOYING COMPANY AROUND THEM AND USING IT TO ENHANCE THEMSELVES. THEY LOVE TO EXPLORE MANY AREAS OF KNOWLEDGE AND THE WORLD, TRYING TO BROADEN THEIR HORIZONS AND KEEP THEIR MINDS OPEN. ) BOGGART : Her father, sat in the same armchair he’d always loved. His head turned towards her as he tells her it was all her fault, and the room shrinks. UPDATED: Earlier, and for very good reason, I wrote a drabble centered around what her Boggart would be for a different roleplay. It’s different than what it is now, but I’m nevertheless extremely proud of it. You can read it here. AMORTENTIA : What is it about true love, dearest? What makes everyone go wild? Is it the prospect that someone, someone whole, and unflinching, is out there - waiting for you? Waiting for your embrace, your touch? Or is it just that they are tired - tired of making homes in people and receiving nothing back? You, though. You make homes in all manner of things. And, anyway, who decided homes can’t be humans? Who decided home is a stationary concept? That your heart can’t be held in the hands of many people, that it cannot be crushed and sewn back together in a matter of minutes? Who decided that love, that great big messy concept, has to be romantic? You are as messy in love as you are in life - that is to say, you build pieces of yourself from the people around you, from the pieces of themselves they give you. The skin beneath your ear? Composed of the whispers of secrets from your first boyfriend. Your nose? Your mother’s love. The inside of your wrist? The balm of Emmeline’s arms around your body, shielding you the only way she can.  No. It isn’t so impossible that love is greater than the romance. That love is so many more things. The Greeks of old always said there were many kinds of love. Eros. Agape. Philia. Storge. Ludos. Pragma. Philautia. It is these things that you, alone, recite in that dungeon. The cold seems to envelop you as you take in a breath, the tendrils of your senses magnifying. It can be overwhelming, you know, but you are not as surprised as you expect to be. Warmth, sinking between your fingertips, laps at your cheek, at your lips as you breathe out. It sticks to you, to your tongue. Like caramel and peanut butter, the batter of the cookies your aunt always makes, the s’mores that you made around the campfire just last week. Her hair, or is it her perfume (?) wafting in your direction - regardless, you stay rooted to your place. Daisies, growing wild, the way they had at home, in your back garden. The smell of old brick and something crumbling - that weird Dragonleather smell that stays in the air whenever Hagrid passes, the smell of bursting fireworks (that time that the Marauders hadn’t realized there was anyone still down the corridor) and butterbeer, warming. Your dogs breath, laughter bubbling up as you remark on the smell of toothpaste, on peppermint and mossy treebark.  You’re not surprised to smell all the things that make this place home - you’re not surprised to smell that it’s not made up of just one person - just one thing, fixable - but many. Moving parts that flare up and slide away into the background of your senses. WAND : Phoenix tail feather core. 9 inches. Black Walnut. PETS : Owl, named Athena. Also owns a pitbull, the light of her life, Agape ( LOVE AND AFFECTION ) or Aggie, for short. CHARACTER INSPIRATION : Cinderella, Sonya Rostova, Izzie Stevens, Craig Middlebrooks, Ann Perkins, Ella Lopez, Jess Day, Riley Matthews, Penelope Garcia, Kara Danvers, Capheus Onyango, and Jane Villanueva. ( CHARACTER TAG HERE. )

PART TWO. ARE YOU GOOD AT… DANCING? : I certainly try.  SINGING? : Yes! COOKING? : Somewhat. DUELING? : Never been better. STUDYING? : If my grades are anything to go by, yes. MAGIC? : Uh, I’d hope so.

PART THREE. HAVE YOU EVER… DRIVEN A CAR? : Yes. Not well, though. FALLEN IN LOVE? : … Yes. HAD SEX? : Yes. LAUGHED SO HARD YOU CRIED? : I don’t know anyone who enjoys their life who hasn’t. SMOKED? : ... No. DONE DRUGS? : Nope. BROKEN THE LAW? : Accidentally. KILLED SOMEONE? : No.

PART FOUR. LITTLE SECRETS BIGGEST FEAR : Losing everyone. And everything. SOMEONE YOU ADMIRE : Emme, McGonagall. SOMEONE YOU FEAR : I don’t really know. Dumbledore, when he’s mad. Whatever that ponce of a miserable Muggle hater is called. SOMEONE YOU MISS : Grandpa. Terry. My brother. Mum. Dad. SOMEONE YOU COULDN’T LIVE WITHOUT : Emme. Myself, too. SOMEONE YOU COULD KILL : Anyone who hates muggles. DO YOU WANT KIDS? : Maybe someday. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED? : To the right person? Yeah. BIGGEST REGRET : Not sleeping in the same room as my brother that night. ( I could have saved him. I should have saved him. ) CAN YOU SEE THESTRALS? : Yes.

PART FIVE. FINISH THIS SENTENCE I AM… : Sleepy. Wishing Emmeline was here. I WISH… : Ice-cream could become a person. MAYBE ONE DAY… : I won’t feel this guilt anymore. SOMETIMES I… : Fall in love in the morning, and out of it by lunch. MY FAVOURITE SUBJECTS ARE… : Herbology. MY LEAST FAVOURITE SUBJECTS ARE… : History of Magic, Divination. IF I COULD DO IT AGAIN, I WOULD��� : Save my brother. IF I COULD GO TO A DIFFERENT SCHOOL, I WOULD CHOOSE… : Beauxbatons, not Ilvermorny. IF I COULD CHOOSE A DEATHLY HALLOW, I WOULD CHOOSE… : The Stone. ( Say it like it isn’t a mantra, Dorcas. As though it isn’t something that’s poisoned your dreams since discovering those stories may be based in reality. )

PART SIX. MISCELLANEOUS

DESCRIBE THEIR AESTHETIC IN THREE WORDS : Sea, daisies, laughter. THEME SONG : Lavender’s Blue ( CINDERELLA SOUNDTRACK - 2015. ) / Sonya Alone ( BRITTAIN ASHFORD - NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812 - ORIGINAL BROADWAY CAST RECORDING. ) / Times are Hard for Dreamers (Pop Version) ( PIPPA SOO - AMELIE - ORIGINAL BROADWAY CAST RECORDING. ) TOP FIVE SONGS IN THEIR ( MODERN ) PLAYLIST : You Are Enough - Sleeping at Last, Yellow - Coldplay, When I Kissed the Teacher - ABBA, Breathe - In The Heights, & Paradise - George Ezra. VINE THAT FITS THEM : ( x ) RANDOM HEADCANONS : 1. Dorcas loves deeply. Deeply, deeply, deeply. It’s intrinsic to who she is. She’s protective, maddeningly so, and unable to sit still. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and is a nightmare when it comes to pacing herself. She knows not of patience, or of taking time to breathe. She consists solely of love - a palace built between her ribs of the people that she loves. In this, she is a typical Taurus Hufflepuff. ( x ) 2. Dorcas lost her parents at a very young age. She doesn’t often speak of it - speak about them, about the parents that she lost and the brother that she was unable to save. They were killed in a home burglary turned murder spree when she was six. They’d been meant to go on holiday, but Dorcas had come down with the stomach flu, so they’d foregone the vacation when it spread to Dorcas’s younger sister, Calliope. The only reason that Dorcas survived was that she managed to climb beneath her bed with her younger sister Calliope facing the wall, only her back visible from the opening created by the duvet. She gets stabbed three times, one of those stab wounds narrowly avoiding piercing her spleen and the major abdominal arteries. She still has the scars on her lower back. Callie was uninjured, and she was the one who managed to get to the neighbors house (by climbing out of the window from the second floor and dropping at least eleven feet). Dorcas remembers, mostly, finding out her parents and brother were murdered. The rest of it often feels incredibly foggy. She went through therapy for a number of years before she was discharged from the North West Surrey Mental Health Trust. The nightmares, today, are infrequent, but some nights are worse than others. She often takes a calming draught before she goes to sleep - provided by Madame Pomfrey at the Hospital Wing.  3. Dorcas’s best friend in the universe is Emmeline Vance. They aren’t in the same house, but that doesn’t matter. They met at eleven, on the train to Hogwarts. Dorcas, with brown hair down to her hip, and Emmeline’s hair newly cut into a bob ( her parents had gone wild at her for that one, ) and that was it. The rest, as they say, is History. If you can’t find Dorcas, she’s usually with Emmeline. 60% of her spare time is spent wherever Emmeline is. They’re one another’s great loves. She doesn’t know what she’d be without Emme.  4. Dorcas wants to be a Herbologist or a Healer when she graduates. She’s not sure how likely that plan is to succeed with everything going on - how far she’ll get before she abandons it all to help the people that she wants to help, desperately. As it stands, 40% of her spare time is spent either in the Potions classroom or the Herbology classroom - Potions is a required course for becoming a Healer.  5. If this were a modern AU, Dorcas’d totally be a theater kid. She’d also be that kid that is always making scrapbooks - always half finishing projects, the one that has too many cacti and exotic plants in the corner of her room. She’d keep her phone on her, always, lockscreen always changing. She’d love bands like Little Mix and butcher the Spanish when she tried to sing songs like Despacito.  6. FUTURE: Dorcas manages to live through the Wizarding War ( well, mostly ) without casting the Killing Curse. She’s fast, she’s quick, and she doesn’t stand still. She’s often the one coming careening past the others, ducking beneath their outstretched arms as light - green, red, blue, yellow - is cast against the ground. She Apparates in and out, as though her being there is a mirage. People, injured, bystanders, disappear from where they’d been only seconds before, as soon as her hand secures around anywhere she can grip on. She works with trembling hands, to heal those that she can. Four separate times she manages to Apparate away from under Voldemort’s nose.  The first time is with her arm hooked under Fabian Prewett, his unconscious body bruised and the cut on his arm infected with what she suspects is a modified strain of the venom of the Venomous Tentacula. The second time is with a handful of wands - all belonging to fellow Order members. The third time is with Dedalus Diggle. He’s a handful, that time, splaying limbs, cracking as they twist around. They have a spell maker in their midst but Dorcas is the only one that can sooth the pain, to make it all more bearable while they try and fix it. The fourth time is with Emmeline. Emme’s far too headstrong for her own good, and knows how rare it is that Voldemort himself makes an appearance. Dorcas is the one that breaks Bellatrix’s focus - the Cruciatus curse trained on her best friend, on her Emmeline, flickers when Dorcas passes, a blur of black leather and hair tied up in a bun, bangs hanging low and the light long since dimmed in her eyes. When Emmeline comes to, the pain still ricochets through her bones, and Dorcas is powerless to help. It takes days for the aftershocks to fade. The faintest roar of rage is still heard in Dorcas’s brain. She’s just too slow, in the end, to save herself, although she doesn’t try. She’s not ready, but she is. She’s not happy, but she is. She knew there was only one way this could end. The one incapable of love striking down the one composed entirely of it is the only end that makes sense in a world at war - in a world in which war stories are not one of morals. War stories are made of absolute and uncompromising allegiance to obscenity and evil. It just takes her years to realize. Years to reconcile. Being soft does not make her immune to this. Being alive doesn’t. She is happy, but it is not a happy ending. No - it’s a very sad beginning.

[lifeaftera-blog]

Congrats, Bee! Your application has been accepted! Stellar writing samples, thank you so much! We’ll be waiting your accounts for both Ali & Erin to be submitted within the next 48 hours. Really excited to have you!

Name/Alias: bee/b Age: nineteen Timezone: est Activity Level: 7.5/10. i have finals to finish but once they are done i should be free because summer and then may be spotty occasionally on the days i babysit/work that haven’t figured out yet. but i’m an insomniac so i’m like always around tbh. Character(s) Applying For: alison dilaurentis & erin fitz Preferred Ships: (if any)- emison, spalison (ali), ezria (erin) Anything else?: banana! it’s what my fam calls me lol

Writing Sample – i’m super extra and included three like the writing dweeb i am. 

1) first a lil bio i made

estates enclosed by iron gates, glamorous garments only fashioned by those of the highest caliber, and gilded lifestyles of unfeigned extravagance – this is the life you’ve always dreamed of – or at least some semblance of it. your parents, however, lived lives of utter deprivation. they were deprived of the financial stability they worked so hard to provide for you, and in their youth, they weren’t exceptionally well off but you were

it was your father who saw to your family’s content. and though at times he could be a hard and somewhat brutish man, he was an honest worker – never once succumbing to depravity in order to make a living. although, with all that he endured throughout his life, it wouldn’t have been outrageous if he had. he had enough of working part time to make ends meet and began to pick up acting gigs among his shifts at the station.

your mother was once a woman who thrilled in losing herself to blissful displays of ignorance. she was like a feather forever floating in the wind, with no moral compass pointing her due north. no one ever expected she’d bear a child, let alone raise one. it was always presumed she’d flee, merely adhering to the whispered tales of her heart and its demands that she avoid responsibility – to always know full fledged freedom. nevertheless, she did settle down, and she found that having a family filled her life with monumental joy. it gave her a sense of purpose, something she had long felt her life was lacking.

they were always two very different people, ramona and santino vasquez but they brought you into the world, thus many years ago, they found love despite their differences.  you inherited your father’s intense desire for control and your mother’s innate beauty (some of her more notorious traits as well, though they hadn’t yet developed). you used both feats to your advantage and sought to conquer the world around you – to flip it inside out and make it something better – prettier. however, it was always a question of whether you desired to make it better for yourself, or those around you.

you inherited your father’s intense desire for control and your mother’s innate beauty (some of her more notorious traits as well, though they hadn’t yet developed). you used both feats to your advantage and sought to conquer the world around you – to flip it inside out and make it something better – prettier. however, it was always a question of whether you desired to make it better for yourself, or those around you. you found that it was easy to make things work in your favor with the unmistakable allure you possessed. still, your puppeteering endeavors were always innocent, as you never harbored any ill intent, and it was enough for a little while – making yourself out to be the victim so others might be like putty in your hands, or exaggerating your benevolent nature so they’d feel obligated to be at your disposal. unfortunately, as storm clouds loomed above, you began to shed your beautiful and vibrant, yet aged petals, blossoming anew. your desire and need for more heeded to the change of season as well; specifically your sense of self-righteousness. 

she, claudia was a dreamer – always had been, for her parents taught her to be – her father especially. santino relentlessly stressed the importance of perseverance and self expression, as such a thing was a commodity throughout the span of his youth. both of his parents were junkies, and he grew up not knowing love, for he was born out of hate into a painfully lonely existence. he might have been condemned to the same fate as his parents had it not been for his exceptional drive and meeting ramona.

the tale of her father’s upbringing and her parents’ ultimate love story has always been claudia’s number one motivator. that’s why when she looked up at the stars in all their ethereal beauty, searching for clarity, and procuring an almost psychedelic sensation, she knew. knew that she was destined for greatness, for she was born only out of love, hope, and pure intentions. she was born to make her parents proud and affluent in wealth, happiness, and everything in between. not the struggling part time actors, waitress and cops, so as the world around  fell into a deafening silence, her “calling” came to her like a whisper in the wind – head conjuring up some hazy, crepuscular depiction of her name up in lights. she drank in that image like it was a tonic of bottled sunshine, for it was soaked in liquid, golden glory. that particular magical day marked the beginning of something new. something white and pure like winter snow, something that made her heart reverberate and swell with a deep and perceptible yearning.

though she sent money back and forth to her mother, alcohol and drugs fueled a habit of her own; a deep resentment, a fear, an anger she hasn’t gotten rid of. though she is reckless, in meeting the ones she connected with, claudia shed her newly developed exterior – the sad, angry, bitter girl and adopted a new one. or rather, a plethora of exteriors, as it didn’t really matter who she was, so long as she wasn’t sad claudia who everybody ignored. she hated it – feeling like she could simply disappear and no one would notice. she hated the world, she hated that her father’s affair  had affected her so greatly and transformed her world into an ugly, bleeding thing, and more than anything, she hated that she carried so much hate in her heart. maya didn’t want to be herself anymore, so she decided not to be.when you are made up of nothing but a series of plausible facades you lose sight of yourself, and everything you’ve ever been. you lose your moral values – and ultimately, you lose everything that ever made you you. so you pour yourself into work. into applications and writing and loving someone, your childhood friend who somehow managed to keep you whole.

2) tw: death mention

baby, i’m not moving on, i’ll love you long after you’re gone…“You’re a fucking idiot.” She mumbled into the air, her eyes going over the name that was engraved into the stone. It shouldn’t have been there. She shouldn’t have been reading ‘Calliope Salazar’ on a place like this. “But I miss you..” Bailey choked, rubbing her eyes as she didn’t want to cry. Callie was worth her tears, she always had been, but she felt like she needed to show her that she was strong. Strong for her son, Calliope’s godson, strong enough to accept that she was the one that got away, strong enough for  their families, the community– everyone had been having such a hard time with it all and she had been everyone’s rock and she just wanted to prove to Calliope that she was doing okay without her there– that wasn’t exactly the case though. “Dylan misses you.. he’s gotten so big since you l-left.” She whispered to the stone, sinking down to her knees before she sat in front of her. The five and a half year old didn’t understand that Calliope wasn’t ever coming back and she didn’t know when it would sink in for him. Auntie Callie was different, not like his daddy. Waiting for that scared her– she didn’t want to see her boy go through the grief once he realized it, dealing with another loss,  but it would just be another bump in the road. It was something that would eventually be okay, even though she thought nothing would be okay. “He started little league last week. I made sure he got there on time and he tried out for shortstop. I know how much you wanted that.” She mused with a small laugh, chewing on her lip as she moved to pull out a picture of her from her bag. She didn’t want to talk to a rock, she wanted to talk to her. A few seconds passed by and all she heard was silence. No birds, no wind– there was nothing. It was like the world knew she was gone.  Setting the picture in front of the tombstone, Bailey finally let a tear roll down her cheek and a shaky sigh escaped her lips. “I hate you. I hate you for everything you’ve put us through. How could you d-do this to me? To Dylan? It’s… I-It’s miserable without you, the absolute worst..” It wasn’t her fault in anyway and she knew that she would’ve been by her side if it was her choice, but she was angry at her, at the universe for taking away the love of her life, and hated even more that after a week of mindless dating under the warmth of the summer sun, later on,  a failed one night stand with Dylan’s father and other mindless relationships, she could never build up the courage to tell Callie her true feelings. That she wanted those warm afternoons that summer back, that she wanted an us. “I fucking hate crying, you jerk. You fucking know this.” She growled, shaking her head as she tried to remove off the evidence of tears from her cheeks although they kept falling from her crystal blue orbs. “I’m sorry…it’s just, I lost Martin after Dylan was born and god..ever since that summer…that week, we tried things…I know I said I did..b-but..I never got over it, over you.”  After a few minutes of silence, she moved from the ground with a few sniffles. “I, uh.. I gotta go pick Dyl from school.. he started school, can you believe that? Anyway, I, um, don’t wanna be late cause the school gets all pissy and then they yell at me about being on time and it’s just a mess and.. I wanna show them all I’m a good mommy and that I can do this still even though it’s hell without you, without your guidance, advice, babysitting.” She rambled on, running her fingers through her hair as she looked from the picture to the stone and she leaned down to pick up the tattered piece of paper. “I’ll bring Dylan by this week to see you.” Bailey mentioned, kissing the photograph before she simply began to back away from the grave. Her eyes went up to the sky and they trailed the clouds as if she was looking for a sign from the woman she missed so much. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Cal..” She mumbled to her, letting out a small laugh as she bit her lip and she moved further away from the site to leave. “Forever and always…for life.. remember that…it should have been you, it always was, always will be. ”

3) tw: domestic violence, graphic descriptions of violence

The last thing Delaney could remember was waking up on her hardwood floor, choir dress torn, lip bleeding and surrounded by shards of glass. As she sat up on the cold floor, she winced as noticed her freshly bruised ribs, now a nightly occurrence. Her head throbbing and vision blurred, the young girl could hear nothing but the crashing of kitchen utensils hitting the floor over the venomous screams of her father. He had come home angryagain.And when Brian was angry, there was always consequences. If dinner was still in the oven when he got home, it was a black eye or a bruised stomach, a few dishes in the sink, slammed against the wall and a kick in the ribs. But worst of all, if she didn’t seem happy enough to see him. Then it was all of the above plus forcing himself on top of her, holes in the wall and endless screaming.This was Delaney’s norm. But it hadn’t always been this way. When her parents  first got married, the summer after high school graduation, they were madly in love. All set to build a life together, Brian off to work at his father’s legal firm and her mother Katherine to a local college to major in English and eventually education. That all fell apart when Brian’s father died, leaving him penniless and in no way to support their suddenly growing family. To make matters worse, her mother died during childbirth leaving her husband with a newborn as he spiraled into a funnel of alcohol and prescription drug abuse. So here Delaney was, the white picket fence and all, forced to keep the dark secrets within. No one could ever know what her father did to her. Not now, not ever. She had worked so hard to escape the clique of the freaks and geeks, putting all of her focus into dance, using makeup like the older girls and most of all, abandoning her former friend Aubree. The sound of the doorbell startled her from her thoughts on the floor, as she pushed herself off of the ground, wrapping her shreds of a dress around her body. Dazed and confused, she opened the door, the cold air biting at her bare legs and feet; she was startled by the police officer standing there. “H-How can I h-help you?” she stammered.As the officer rattled on and on about the little girl’s obvious bruises, frail disposition and the crashing sounds around her, Delaney ran a tired hand through her hair. “Officer, thatreallywon’t be necessary. You see, our next door neighbors are elderly so they don’t really know what they hear. I dropped a glass while I was headed to the kitchen and it startled both me and my dad. I’m an absolute klutz.  I’m fine, he’s fine, we’re both just fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go help him clean up.” the young brunette lied effortlessly as she began to close the door, her stomach tightening with nerves at the sight of the gun.How on earth could the officer know this much and so quickly? Did she really look that bad? That didn’t matter, all that did was that the police had been called because Edith and Maxwell McDonald  had been worrying about her again, Edith was bringing her casseroles and sending her teenage granddaughter over to “befriend her”. She would just text and ask about school and the thirteen year old would always feel uncomfortable but she know she meant well so  there was nothing she could do about it. She had to get back inside before her father noticed the silence and brisk air amidst his tirade.