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cynettic · 3 years

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Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find - pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight.

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long.

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest.

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…”

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…”

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck.

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

#genshin impact #genshin impact hc #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kitsune reader #yandere scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #reader x scaramouche #scaramouche angst #writing #angst

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nimsabeef · 3 years

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davekat isn't a bad couple, actually

okay, i am bored and sleep deprived and i just went through @davekat-sucks's blog. this is a recipe for disaster. sigh. hope you don't mind me doing this ms. davekat sucks, its just that some of your takes were so frigid i just couldn't bring myself to ignore them. various thoughts under the cut

first off, id like to say that this not an attempt to blame you for making this blog, or for disliking davekat. you can ship whatever the fuck you want and express your opinion however you like. i actually really appreciate the courage. fuck yeah, go against the status quo. post about a controversial topic. fandom would be boring without people like you. but the thing is, your takes are so cold bestie. they are straight up frigid. i am so sorry but the sight of them got me freezing and shaking uncontrollably

why do you base so much of your criticism around hs2 and the epilogues whilst simultaneously claiming they're badly written and shouldn’t be canon? YES their characterisations were fucked in post-canon. that's the case for most characters!! it's kind of hypocritical to use post-canon as a basis to bash davekat and then turn around and completely disregard that when it comes to pairings like roxygen or rosemary. guess what! they were fucked over by post-canon too! and yet you're not going around claiming that johnroxy sucks, even though john basically abandoned roxy and cheated on her. you're not going around claiming rosemary is a horrible pairing because of the yiffy fiasco in homestuck 2. and you still like those ships. so do i!!

hs2 turned davekat into some kind of fanservice generator and robbed dave and karkat of most of their personalities, i agree. but that's because hs2 fucking sucks. they did that for most of the character anyway. why does it only matter to you when it's davekat? much to think about.

so yeah. im not going to address the criticism pertaining to the epilogues and beyond. im not defending them

another thing you keep bringing up is dave hating quadrants which, jesus fucking christ. it makes me doubt you have any reading comprehension skills. the label felt alien to him, yes. he initially rejected the concept because it seemed weird and off-putting, probably, and that's normal. most of the kids thought troll culture was weird at first. and! he didn't break up with terezi because he hated quadrants! he just doesn't like the polygamous aspect of it.

but let's suppose for the sake of argument that he actually, canonically, hates quadrants. what would that even mean? would that imply he would never get into a relationship with a troll, seeing as those would technically be quadrants? or that he doesn't feel any kind of quadrant-related romantic attraction? both of these were proven wrong by canon because: 1) he willingly got into a matespritship with terezi 2) humans can feel pale, pitch, and red attraction; they just label it differently. karkat elaborates on that in a conversation with john, probably around act6 act5. and davekat doesnt even fall squarely under any quadrant, so this is all pointless lol

one other point you brought up was that as soon as they got close to one another on the meteor, they stopped being active in the plot and disregarded all of the issues their friends were dealing with, proving that their relationship was lazy writing which caused their development to stagnate. this is a good point! but when you look into it, that's not really what happened.

the beta kids and the surviving trolls all began blending into the background during act 6 as the story began focusing on the alpha kids. most of them were sitting around, not particularly doing anything relevant, because there was nothing relevant to be done except for waiting. like kanaya, or davesprite, for example.

you mention that it was ooc for dave and karkat not to help terezi while she was getting abused. the thing is, terezi tried to keep her relationship with gamzee under wraps. she didn't really succeed at that, but people still didn't know exactly what was going on with them at first. karkat wasn't even told about it. he didn't even know she was dating gamzee up until very late into the trip. dave had just broken up with her and didn't know much about troll quadrants by that point, so he probably just thought it was all kismesis shit and didn't want to intrude. again, if he had known what was really going on, he probably would have intervened, but he only had a vague idea about it since terezi wasn't open about her relationship with gamzee. that is, up until the very end of the trip, and by that point dave and karkat WERE trying to encourage her.

you mention that they also didn't help rose with her addiction, but dave was trying! he spent a whole scene trying to get her to drink less! (the one right before the rosemary kiss)

but the thing is. most of the meteor shenanigans happened off screen, so we're not certain of anything. but again, for the sake of argument, let's assume they actually weren't even trying to help their friends. why would that matter? why would the fact that they weren't rushing to fix all of their friends emotional issues have any impact on their feelings for each other? they're traumatised teenagers, they make mistakes! theyre flawed characters!

kanaya didnt try to help terezi with the gamzee situation either. she didnt try to contact the ship either. instead, she spent most of her time with rose. does that make rosemary a horrible pairing? is it ooc for rose and kanaya? from what i've seen, this doesnt seem to be your opinion on the subject.

yeah that’s basically it. you don’t need to respond, but a response would be welcome. thank you for reading!

#davekat #hs^2 #homestuck #i dont wanna put this in the main tag #ill use the read more thing #sorry yall #conversing

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atlabeth · 3 years

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neighborly things - sokka x fem!reader

summary: reader can’t make things for shit. thankfully, she has a cute and crafty neighbor willing to help her.

a/n: im so sorry lmao. i have requests and i have 2 series that havent been updated in like a month but sometimes i just need to write a stupid little oneshot to get back in the writing mood. i did this in an hour

im not a screwdriver expert so dont come at me if some of this info is wrong lmao

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): some cursing but otherwise pure fluff. also i didnt proofread im SORRY im pretty sure they laugh grin and smile like 200 times

“Dammit!”

Anyone unfortunate enough to have a place near you during this time would have heard the phrase on more than twenty occasions, and it wasn’t even noon yet. You had gotten the parts in the mail to put together a new dresser a couple days ago, and had finally decided to take on the task. You didn’t know if it was because you were inexperienced with furniture or just lacked basic comprehension skills, but it was proving to be no less than Herculean.

You threw the screwdriver at the wall and fell back to the floor as you let your arms sprawl out above you. You had been trying to screw in a part for no less than thirty minutes, and if a miracle didn’t happen right about now, you were going to lose your mind.

Your head snapped towards the door when she heard a knock, and your brows creased. “God?” You muttered as you got up, wondering if you had actually thought a miracle into existence.

You weren’t greeted by a deity when you opened the door, but the man standing in front of you was pretty damn close. With ocean blue eyes, hair pulled back in a ponytail with shaved sides, and toned arms, he was a sight to behold. But you had no idea why he was in front of your door.

“Hey, are you okay?” He questioned, genuine concern in his tone.

“Um, yeah, why?” You were trying to rack your brain for any memory of this guy — because you knew you would remember him if you had seen him before — but to no avail. “Also, who are you and why are you here?”

“Right,” he chuckled. “My name’s Sokka. I’m your neighbor; I live—” he gestured at the door just next to your place, “—over there. Moved in a couple weeks ago, so that’s probably why you don’t know me. I’ve just been hearing a lot of cursing and loud noises coming from your place, so I figured I would stop in and see what was going on.”

“Oh. That’s.. very considerate of you, Sokka. I’m just…” you sighed and chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “I’m just trying to put together a dresser, and it’s not going well at all. That latest sound you heard was the culmination of my rage. I threw a screwdriver at the wall.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he laughed. “Listen. I don’t wanna intrude on you or anything, but I happen to be pretty good at putting things together. I had to do a lot of furniture construction when I first moved in, plus I’m the one all my friends call when they need help with putting anything together. I could probably help you with whatever’s troubling you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, no. I just go door to door joking around with people, asking if they need help with their furniture, sometimes I ask if their refrigerator is running? It really gets a kick out of them.”

You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly and stepped aside so he could enter your apartment. “Thank you so much, Sokka. I’ve read the instructions a million times, I seriously don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

He crouched down and picked up the manual, turning to a dog-eared page and skimming over the instructions. He pointed at the screwdriver you had thrown against the wall and glanced back at you. “Is that the one you’ve been using?”

You closed and locked the door behind him then walked over to the wall, picking up the unfortunate victim of your anger and spinning it in your hands. “Yeah, why?”

“Do you know what kind it is?”

“Um.. maybe? God, I don’t know. I think it’s a Phillip’s head?”

Sokka laughed and shook his head, holding up the manual so you could see it. “That’s where you’re going wrong. You need a Pozidriv for these screws — they’re similar enough that anyone can make a mistake.”

You stared at Sokka in complete amazement — apparently, your savior lived next door, and he came in the form of a handsome guy with basic knowledge on putting furniture together. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said as you walked over and took the booklet from himl. You flipped through it a couple times and read over the part, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” you repeated, louder this time. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get that thing to- to work, to screw, to— whatever you call it?”

“It’s actually to—”

“Thirty minutes!” You interrupted, earning a small chuckle from Sokka. “Thirty damn minutes that I have been trying to get that screw in, and it’s all because I was using the wrong screwdriver. Why would they make screwdrivers that are so similar but aren’t interchangeable?!”

He shrugged and held up his hands. “Don’t ask me — I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. But like I said; this dresser might fall apart if you keep using this thing. I actually have a Pozidriv back at my place, I can go get it and we can finish this up together.”

“God, that would be the biggest help,” you admitted. “But I don’t wanna take up your time — I don’t know how I would even repay you.”

“I’m doing this because I want to help you,” he said. “You don’t have to repay me. Think of it as… as a neighborly thing.”

“A neighborly thing?” you repeated with a laugh. “Well, if you’re offering, I’m definitely not going to refuse.”

“I am offering,” Sokka winked. “And unless you want to be at this for another three days, I think you should take that offer.”

You pretended to deliberate over it before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll let you help me. I mean, really you should be thanking me for this brilliant opportunity to, um.. hone your skills.”

He laughed, a brilliant sound that made your heart sing, and nodded as he went back to the door. “Thank you so much for letting me put together this dresser. Truly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then I’m happy to be of assistance.”

Sokka grinned then unlocked and opened the door. “I’ll be right back, then we can get started.”

Once he got back, the two of you got to work. The next three hours passed so quickly as you and Sokka talked about everything from the work you did to people in your lives (no girlfriend, thankfully), to exchanging stories — even the silence, though rare, was comfortable.

Sokka pushed the last drawer into its place then clapped his hands as he stood up, admiring the fruits of your labor. “And that’s it! We’re done.”

“Wait, we’re done? Already?” You set down the instruction manual and stood up as well, backing up to Sokka’s position to see what he saw. “Wow, that looks.. that looks just like the picture. We are good at this! Well, you’re really good at this, I’m good at keeping you entertained. But still!”

You held your hand up for a high five and he laughed, but not without meeting it with a satisfying clap.

“It does look pretty good,” he admitted. “And not only do you have a brand new, fully functioning dresser, you also had the priceless experience of spending three hours with the neighbor you know nothing about.”

“That’s not true,” you countered. “I know that you’re really good at putting things together, you’re a genius when it comes to anything math or science, and you hate blueberries.”

Sokka snickered and brushed his hands off on his jeans. “That’s everything there is to know.”

“I dunno, Sokka. You seem like a pretty interesting guy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not every day that someone offers to put together a whole dresser just because they feel bad.”

“Well—” he tore off a blank part of the instruction manual and picked up a spare pen from the counter, then put it up against the wall as he scribbled something on it. Sokka put the pen down and handed the slip of paper to you with a smile. “If you ever need any more help with furniture, then call me.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you took the paper. Your fingers brushed ever so slightly as you took the slip of paper, and you decided to just go for it. You bit back a grin and tried to sound as innocuous as possible. “And if I want to get to know you beyond the blueberries?”

Sokka laughed and leaned against the doorframe. “Definitely call me.”

“Great.”

The two of you smiled at each other like idiots for way too long before a notification from his phone broke the silence. He jumped from the sudden noise and dug his phone out of his pocket, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, my sister just texted me and I gotta get over to her place.” Sokka started towards the door then paused and turned around. “I actually had a lot of fun doing this, though. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You knew you had that same smile on your face, but it just wouldn’t go away. His energy was contagious. “Definitely.”

“Great.” He winked at you one last time then left, closing the door behind him, and finally snapping you out of your spell.

You leaned against the dresser and stared at the slip of paper in your hands, committing the number to memory.

You were definitely going to take him up on that offer.

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin

#avatar the last airbender #avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender fic #atla fic #avatar fic #sokka #sokka atla #sokka avatar #sokka fic #sokka x reader #sokka x reader fic #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #avatar x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #sadie writes

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blookmallow · 3 years

Text

hi i binged through all of salad fingers for the first time in like 8 years and im fixating again here are. My Theories. pls talk to me if anyone else has Thoughts or wants to discuss things. this is really long i am sorry :’ )

also shout out to the salad fingers wiki for helping me keep track of details and also for this

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thought: salad fingers is not violent on purpose he did not mean to kill that kid

this is less a theory and more “if you slander my boy with accusations i will Get you” but listen. i see people going “but he mURDERED A CHILD!!” because of the oven incident but listen. listen to me. he didnt mean to and cannot be held to the same standard of morality and understanding consequences as a. person who isn’t..... in whatever situation and mental state he has going on

- yes, the kid getting trapped in the oven was his fault. but it was not intentional or malicious and i sincerely doubt he understands what happened or why.

he was asking for help reaching the fish (there’s no reason to believe he wasn’t just genuinely asking for help. he tears up in gratitude. theres no evidence of him Tricking People Maliciously in any other context i do not believe he would do that) and was distracted by the rusty nail, causing him to let go of the door. it wasn’t “he cares more about rust than about a child’s life” or something, i dont think he can actually hold “hey look at that i gotta check that out” and “i need to hold the door open so the child doesn’t get hurt” in his head at the same time, rust is his favorite stim/an impulse thing that takes over everything else and his perception of reality and the things going on around him changes very quickly and easily. more on that later. but the important point here is it wasn’t a malicious plot, or a neglectful careless action, he literally did not realize letting go of the door would cause harm

he stabbed himself accidentally with the nail and passed out for a while (the fact that he immediately bled that much is concerning too, he probably has hemophilia which is. a medical condition outside of his control, as well) and after all that he had completely forgotten about the child altogether (and says “i must have dozed off” so he doesn’t even understand he passed out. and might not remember the nail thing in the first place)

we don’t see what happened after this, we don’t know how he responds when he investigates the fish and inevitably finds an unexpected charred corpse in there, but i guarantee he won’t remember why its in there or understand that its a corpse. we dont see it again so its. entirely possible he didnt recognize it as a person and either just disposed of it or, uh, ate it. but if he did, it wasn’t with the knowledge and comprehension of it being A Corpse or the memory of how it got there

theory: on salad fingers and memory / comprehension of death and consequences

more on that subject

- we see him frequently doing things and then immediately forgetting he did it or forgetting what was happening. he accidentally squishes the bug (which also was not malicious or intentional, he intended to pet it but just. went too hard) and has no understanding either that its dead, or that he killed it. she has gone flat and gooey for some unknown reason. that’s strange. she needs to go have a wash, that’s no way to be.

he eats the jeremy fisher puppet at one point and then immediately goes “where have you gotten to??”

he even briefly forgets hubert cumberdale’s name and immediately comes up with another one without realizing it, and then later goes back to hubert cumberdale again with no mention of barbara logan-price

he refers to the same little yellow guy as “young child” and also Auntie Bainbridge later on. he keeps up the fantasy of... whatever the fuck yvonne was being his child for a pretty long time but then when he arrives at “auntie bainbridge” ‘s house he suddenly forgets why he’s there, and even apparently forgets what yvonne is and uses ‘her’ as a window rag instead and never mentions it again (I also don’t think she was in the sandwich at the end either. it’s hard to see but the sandwich contents are vaguely brown and theres a visible lump in the black goo behind him. i like the idea that the lil yellow guy made the sandwich for him)

salad fingers is constantly subconsciously adjusting his reality to fit Whatever Makes The Most Sense At The Time and does not consistently remember things (sometimes even major things. he remembers his puppets the most consistently and still even forgets hubert’s name) or have a concept of cause and effect

i think he possibly has some sense of recognition, “I’ve seen this person before,” but doesn’t always remember Why he knows them, and his mind just automatically fills in the blank with whatever makes sense to him. he doesn’t remember who the yellow guy is, but knows he knows them Somehow, so, ah, of course, it must be auntie bainbridge out for her sunday stroll :) and he knows he’s there for a reason, but not what that reason was, so he decides it must be time to clean the windows

- milford cubicle was already dead when salad fingers opens the door, but he has no idea that hes dead. this isn’t even a cause for concern. my, he must be tired, that’s all. he kept milford there until he rotted away, too, so there was never a point where he realized anything was wrong (until he became skeleton. more on That later too)

- he finds a corpse buried in the yard and rather than confronting the confusing and alarming reality of that situation, why it must be kenneth, back from the great war! at no point does he understand kenneth is definitely dead

theory: kenneth vs glass brother

i think he really did have a brother named kenneth who probably died in the war. could be some subconscious connection between “recognizing” a corpse as his brother, but i dont think he realizes any of that. i think the glass family is probably a trauma based hallucination, but a... well, reflection. pun not exactly intended lmao. on how his real family was and how they treated him

i dont think glass brother is the same brother as kenneth, since salad fingers interacts with them completely differently

kenneth is a corpse that salad fingers projects a personality on and speaks for, while glass brother seems independent and malicious toward him. i think he had a good relationship with kenneth (so, when salad fingers imagines that he’s here, it’s cause for celebration and he’s projecting onto something inert and “safe”) and also had another brother (who was probably his twin) who bullied him and acted violently, so when that trauma resurfaces, he hallucinates a vicious Other that he cannot control or speak for.

it also tracks that the abusive brother was his twin - he sees himself reflected in the mirror, and something in his own face reminds him of that lost brother until it “becomes” him

he refers to kenneth as his younger brother, and sees him as a being that does not look like him, while glass brother is literally his reflection, so it would make sense if he had one identical twin and one younger brother

ive seen theories that he had a real sister named bordois too, but i think him calling the bug “little sister” was just. a term of endearment or one of his little odd language quirks, he seemed to be talking to it more like a pet than like a sibling

theory: regarding mable

- ok people are saying salad fingers killed mable at the picnic but i Really Don’t Think He Did

we never see him acting out violently when he gets scared. he tends to try to escape situations that stress him out, he shrinks, he cries, he goes into his cupboard (which is. incredibly upsetting given the fact he was almost definitely abused by his family)

he takes on a kind of Authoritative Tone often, he gets sort of ruffled up and disdainful toward things, but that’s not what he does when he’s scared

when he’s actually distressed (rather than irritated) he tends to break down and retreat. this includes when other independent beings act in ways that unsettle and upset him

so i dont know where the “he freaked out and killed her” idea is coming from. he suddenly goes from outside at the picnic to having a breakdown in his house so. he most likely just ran

i think the Only time we see him act out violently is when he decides he has to punish marjory for not getting a haircut like he asked - he tears her hair out, but for me that scene was particularly concerning because it was so unlike him. that was an anger response, not a fear response, though, and he tends to be harsher toward things that he’s actually controlling (I don’t think we ever see him decide to Discipline something that was independent from him other than the horses, and he didnt hurt them)

ordinarily when something irritates him he just goes “hmph! so distasteful. how rude. i shan’t have this behavior, you know” but doesn’t really actually do anything about it, and moves on

anyway we never see mable again so i think either he freaked out and ran away and she just didn’t come back, or he scared her and she ran away, or both

there’s a dress visible briefly when salad fingers is making his Flesh Boy which could be mable’s (he did comment he liked it) but it’s not 100% clear, and that doesn’t necessarily mean he KILLED her for it. she could have changed into something else and left it somewhere and he found it. she could have died under unrelated circumstances, and salad fingers found her - he doesn’t comprehend death, so. probably he decided they’ve made amends now and she’s given him her dress as a token of friendship, or something

i dont think it really looks that significantly like hers but the fact that it stands out so distinctly from the rest of the Pile could mean something

but i just feel like if he had killed her we would’ve seen her corpse again, he doesn’t have a concept of murder, or death at all, or consequences, and his memory doesn’t hold out that consistently, so if he killed her, he probably would have calmed down later and then forgotten what he did and came up with a new way to explain the corpse in front of him - oh, how rude of me, mable’s here dozing right off and i havent even offered her a blanket. let’s get you to bed

like, he probably would have dragged her home with him, with the intention of being a good friend/host to his guest, not understanding what happened. he kept milford cubicle around a really long time

it wouldn’t be like him to have any concept of hiding the evidence

speaking of milford

theory: regarding milford cubicle

salad fingers keeps milford’s corpse around until it starts rotting, and then after a very confusing series of events, the corpse is suddenly a skeleton, which surprisingly alarms salad fingers considerably, and then he goes out to find a whole bunch of himselves eating various bits of gore. they give him a present, which is a hat very clearly made of milford’s skin

my conclusion: salad fingers, in some kind of dissociative fugue state, skinned and ate the remains of milford cubicle himself and turned the remaining skin into a hat. he also saves some of it to make hubert cumberdale (the real boy) later as well, probably forgetting where it came from. he does not realize he’s done this or remember doing it, so his scrambled mind tries to make sense of it with other selves eating unknown flesh, and a lovely hat appearing (which he doesn’t seem to notice is made of flesh)

you can also see milford’s original name tag in the drawer later on when he’s building the flesh boy, so. he kept that after the mysterious disappearance of milford’s flesh, apparently. more evidence that that skin is probably also his

some other scattered thoughts regarding the most recent string of episodes and salad fingers’ mental state:

ive been trying to figure out what the fuckhell happened with the yvonne incident and everything that happened in the birthday episode

im really concerned for salad fingers’ health and mental state, as it seems to be deteriorating

some yvonne theories ive seen:

1. he ate the burned corpse of the kid who died in the oven, and it made him very sick, which ultimately resulted in a charred mass he couldn’t digest - he steadily gets worse, until his body finally ejects it (yvonne’s “birth”) and after that his health starts to recover again. since the oven incident happens really early on, all the times he mentions his stomach being upset after that until he becomes deathly ill would make sense, so i think this is plausible

2. the hair he found in the cupboard was actually a parasitic worm that grew in his stomach after he ate it and became yvonne. i think this is Possible, it is a really strangely wormy looking hair, but it doesn’t move and he mentions stomach pains before this, so it seems less likely to me

3. i also saw the concept that salad fingers is a trans man who suffered a miscarriage at some point in his past and yvonne represents that, and i can definitely see where the idea is coming from but i do think something really physically happened to him in the present time, i dont think it was all a trauma-based hallucination, since the yellow guy reacts to the black ooze and something was definitely making him severely ill

so. i Don’t Know what the fuck that was about but i think the burnt corpse theory makes the most sense

on that note: there’s a lot of cannibalism imagery in salad fingers

we have no IDEA where he’s getting food from. im pretty sure its been confirmed that he is Not a zombie, we see him bleed, pass out, sleep, etc so it seems like he must be a living person who has ordinary needs. but we see him eat... his own puppets. hairs. sand. the soup glass mother instructed him to make, which made him very sick. he has a working oven but doesn’t seem to have consistent access to water. he had a fish somehow but who knows where it came from. it’s very likely he doesn’t get food often and some of his hallucinations and mood swings could be caused by starvation (and when he does eat, it’s things that are outright inedible or probably not good for him)

the burned corpse disappears and is never mentioned again (though salad fingers is very sick afterward). milford’s flesh disappears and salad fingers violently hallucinates multiple selves gorging themselves on unknown flesh

and what concerns me the most about that is that he loses a lot of time in that episode

he passes out in the woods and when he wakes up, it looks like a shit ton of time has passed

we don’t know how much is reality and how much is his warped perception, but it looks like a tree has grown and his physical condition has deteriorated

he looks really, really unhealthy and haggard for the rest of the episode

i think he had a huge dissociative episode and lost possibly weeks of time, probably due to starvation, and he ate milford cubicle and very possibly other people as well

so my question is. how often does this happen to him

and what happens to him during that state? does he become violent and dangerous without being aware of it when he returns to himself again? or has he just been ravenously scavenging corpses when he gets desperate enough?

its possible dr papanak is another personality he has, one that’s “buried out in the woods” that he becomes when he’s in a really, really bad mental and physical state

he looks much better in the next episode (though that’s also when he has his outburst with marjory. could be that he’s still staving off the violent urges/hasn’t fully come back to himself after the last incident) and I’m really hoping the fact that he was able to finally stand up to his family (at least in some sense) and smash the mirrors could mean he’s making steps toward recovery after whatever the hell all that was

there’s not really much space to do anything with his life or get much help given the circumstances but watching him slowly losing himself even more is Awful :(

i hope we get more episodes im so desperate for more information now

lastly, some random observations

i tried to read this newspaper and it looks like it’s actually written in french, which is interesting given that salad fingers seems to be british (but fond of france, and seems to speak french or at least knows one phrase)

i wonder where he got this, or whether it ever meant something significant to him

theres a lot of evidence that he can’t read (takes no notice of the “harry” nametag and immediately names him something else, “reads” a letter that is actually a newspaper clipping in another language he’s holding upside down, “writes” a letter that is just scribbles) so i dont think he learned his one french phrase from this or anything but, still. vaguely interesting. maybe he has been to france before and brought this back with him for some reason. maybe he’s actually in post apocalyptic france and was just originally from england. We Don’t Know

theres a weird little face in the. heater? whatever that is in the background for a second and i dont like it

salad fingers leaves horace in charge, but then sees him (as a live horse) in the woods, but then comes back to find him both still on the shelf (as a toy) and in the room (as a live horse, now with his, uh, surgery scars) but doesn’t seem to notice this and doesn’t comment on it

i dont know what the hell that means other than possibly his reality is even less consistent and logical than usual/a reflection on his mental state deteriorating

#salad fingers #pinned #media analysis

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sillyguyhotline · 3 years

Note

17. “How is any of this ok?” with Joe and Sara maybe?

dude im gonna be completely honest i havent written anything in like a month so i think the quality isnt gonna be great but here goes nothing

God, Sara missed the feeling of home.

Every semblance of familiarity and comfort she’d once found in the town she’d grown up in, the house she’d spent her childhood running through, now felt chillingly foreign.

Perhaps it was the heavy burden of knowledge weighing fresh upon her shoulders: ASUNARO’s corruption seemed now to peer slyly around every corner, no matter where she went. She still didn’t know how much of the town had rotted away under its grasp, how much of the town its poison had pervaded… but she was probably better off not knowing.

Whatever was left of Midori, that miserable mix of pulsing blood and electronic emotion, had been ground to bits inside that coffin… but Sara couldn’t ignore the creeping fear that his burning, ever-present gaze would appear out of nowhere and terrorize her again.

But he wouldn’t. The death game was over, and they’d promised they would never hurt her or any of her loved ones again.

Most of the loved ones she still encountered day-to-day, gruesomely blood splattered and sitting like corpses propped up hastily in a corner, would be safe no matter if ASUNARO was fresh on her tail or a thousand miles away. What a cruel price to pay for safety, to never be hurt again.

They still lived on if Sara closed her eyes tight enough, if she listened to the twisting words of the hallucinations and let them convince her she was monstrous. But the second she dared to open her eyes, she knew they’d be dead again. Life worked in terrible ways, and that was all there was to it.

Joe’s house had always been a second home to her, ever since the two of them became friends. Joe was the farthest cry from Sara in terms of social interactions- it had taken at least 3 months for Sara to trust Joe enough to invite him over, but Joe had insisted she hang out at his house the very same day they became friendly enough to exchange more than a sentence with each other.

There was a certain sort of comfort to the warmth of his house, the constant scent of cooking food pervading the air and the little trinkets scattered in every corner. No surface of his house went without decoration, in its silly little way. It was full of pictures, too, some carefully framed and some dangling from the wall by pushpins, but Sara got the sense that none of the photos went unloved. Most of them were occupied by an orange-haired man, often carrying a younger Joe (back when he was still sporting that atrocious crew cut). Sara always assumed it was his dad, but thought it would be impolite to ask… particularly when the weeks stretched on and Sara had yet to meet that mysterious orange-haired man.

Eventually, pictures of Sara began to join the collage on the wall- pictures taken as she butchered yet another pop song during karaoke, or when they went out to get food, or when she mistakenly sat down on a traffic cone during gym (after many protests from Sara, he took that one down). As silly as the pictures were, and as obvious as it was that Joe had waited for the most embarrassing moments to take them, it was sort of sweet in a way.

Joe’s mother was always kind to her, though there was a constant weariness in her eyes that Sara always felt a bit uneasy about questioning. Sometimes she’d let the two of them cook things in the kitchen, but more often than not they’d go up to Joe’s room and screw around in there, with video games or music or the 50 times Joe tried to persuade Sara to climb out the window and sit on the roof with him before she finally agreed.

As rare as it was for Sara to agree to sit on the roof, it was even rarer for Joe to agree to study with her, much to Sara’s chagrin. Joe had always walked a fine line between passing and failing, but Sara had to admit he walked it well. When she did manage to convince him to study, though (usually the day before final exams), they’d sit on the cushy couch in his living room and somehow manage to bother each other as much as possible while feigning concentration.

The couch hadn’t changed after several years- Sara could tell that much the minute she sat down on it and avoided the urge to break eye contact with Joe’s mother. It was still well-worn, a couch that likely should have been replaced at least a decade ago but had never really been disposed of. Loose threads were protruding from the cover, drawn out from years of visitors fidgeting with them.

Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the slight motion making her sink deeper into the couch’s soft cushioning. She’d only spent one minute in the house and was already sweating, whether from the heat of the home or the thousand-yard stare of the woman sitting across from her.

Ryoko was there, too, sitting to Sara’s left and gazing listlessly at the well-trodden carpet beneath her feet. …Ryoko.

Sara cast a hesitant glance around the room, duly noting the photos covering the walls. Not a single one of hers had been taken down, but several more photos had appeared with Joe’s beaming face featuring prominently in them. Joe’s presence was always enough to fill a room even when he wasn’t speaking; it took a lot to fill in the gaps left by his absence.

God, she missed him.

The wind whistled against the window-screen; Sara had memorized the familiar creak of the wooden window frame being lifted up to welcome in the mild autumn air. Sara had always thought of autumn as a beginning- she loved summer as much as any other kid, but as the haze of the weather began to wind down she was quick to grow impatient and look forward to the school year, to being productive again. Joe had always disagreed with her.

“Fall is the literal death of fun,” he’d complained once, walking home with Sara after finishing the first week of school. “Couldn’t they have pushed back the first day of school by, like, another week? You think if we got enough people to sign a petition, they’d give us an extra week of summer?”

“Oh, come on, we both know even if you had an extra week of summer you’d just be complaining a week later,” Sara had teased back.

The death of fun. It certainly felt like that, Sara decided. She’d never feared the looming darkness of fall and winter quite so much before. But now, she supposed, there was no sunshine who’d weather it with her.

“Well… Sara?” Joe’s mother spoke up, voice hoarse with the sound of repressed tears in her throat. Sara recognized the sound all too well.

There was no resentment in the woman’s eyes when Sara made eye contact with her. No anger, no frustration, nor had there been any in her measured motions when she welcomed Sara into the home. It didn’t take any words for Sara to tell that there was no blame to be foisted upon her.

She was still Joe’s best friend.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you out here on such short notice.” The woman’s voice was weak. “I don’t know all the details of what happened, of course. Haven’t heard anything, aside from the little tidbits the police told me when I dropped by the station.”

Sara’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of the police, at the idea of them pleasantly answering her questions as though they weren’t just as complicit in that tragedy as ASUNARO had been.

“And…” the woman glanced down at her hands, toughened from a lifetime of working. “I know something terrible happened to you. The circles under your eyes are darker than midnight, I know it’s so selfish of me to be dragging you out here, but… I haven’t slept a wink for weeks. Been so worried about Joe, and about you too.”

She nodded in the direction of the black-haired girl who hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. “Ryoko’s been worried about the both of you, too. Your parents weren’t answering the door, so she went to me. I hope you’ll forgive the two of us for disturbing you, Sara, but… you have the answers the police won’t give us, don’t you?”

God, her gaze was piercing.

“...Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

It was taking everything in Sara’s power not to look at the vacant seat to her right. If Joe was there, he would have been laughing and lightening the mood, completing the circle that had been left so jarringly empty.

But they wouldn’t have been having this conversation if Joe was there.

Ms. Tazuna nodded slowly. “This means the world to me, Sara. Don’t forget that.”

Sara did her best to muster a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The woman gave another nod, eyes defocusing as though even now, she wasn’t quite sure why she was there. “Alright. Alright. Well, then…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Guess I should get right to the point, yeah? Is he… is… how is he…?”

So she still hadn’t quite let go of that little thread of hope, even after seeing Sara return home safe and alive with no best friend in tow. Who was Sara to judge? When hope was the only thing to cling to, it only made sense to cling to it like a lifeline.

Sara twisted her hands, the same old nervous habit she’d had for years, and wondered briefly if she’d picked it up from Ms. Tazuna. How terrible it was, to carry the news that nobody, much less any mother, ever wanted to hear.

“I… I’m sorry, Ms. Tazuna. He didn’t make it out alive.”

Sara hadn’t expected the hush that immediately fell over the room. She’d expected immediate tears, the grieving cry of a mother in pain. Instead, the room became muffled, still as a painting captured in time.

Slowly, Ryoko looked up from her bitten-down fingers, eyes rimmed red already. Ryoko had always been an emotional person, the only person Sara knew who could fluctuate from full-on sobs to cheerful giggles in less than a minute. Sara was so unused to the look that was now filling her eyes- cold, solid misery. As though there were no tears in her eyes left to cry, no more tragedies to bemoan. Just a deep and horrified comprehension of just how many things in her life had gone wrong.

And, slowly, Ms. Tazuna began to cry.

Tears had become so uncomfortable for Sara to bear witness to. Was it selfish of her to look away? It couldn’t be, not when every raw sob reminded her of the art student seeing her first (and certainly not last) death, of the broken sibling openly weeping over apologies gone unspoken, of the unknowing siblings screaming their throats out with pleas for death so the other could survive.

Especially not now. Not when every tear rang in her mind as a reminder of cold tubes piercing her best friend’s chest, of his corpse slumping and falling in a pool of blood, because oh god he wasn’t supposed to have lost so much blood, how was he supposed to live without it, of the clickclickclickclickclicking rising in volume while her attempts to save him grew feebler and feebler.

Her hands were bloodstained, no matter how many times she tried to scrub them clean. Those dreadful hands of hers had failed her, failed Joe, failed the women sobbing openly in front of her.

She swallowed back the apologies that always rose in her throat as Ms. Tazuna rushed to sniffle back her tears.

“I… god, I… he’s really gone?”

Sara couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please… please tell me it was a peaceful death. He didn’t… suffer too much, did he?”

The resounding wave of clicks flooded her mind. “It was as peaceful as I could make it. I… he smiled at me, right before he died. I’d… very much like to think that means he was happy when he died.”

“What happened?” Ryoko’s voice came out rough, the first of it Sara had heard in weeks. “Joe told me, after our date, that he was going to walk you home, and then neither of you showed up at school the next day. And now… it’s been three weeks? And Joe… Joe’s dead? What the hell happened, Sara?”

“God,” Sara mumbled, mesmerizing herself with the twisting motions of her own hands. “I’m not sure if you’d even believe me if I told you. I don’t even know if I believe what happened myself.”

“I’d believe anything.” The sentence was firm. “I just want to know what happened.”

Sara nodded wearily. The familiar weight of her bright orange ponytail was notably missing- the day after she’d escaped, she’d demanded the hairdresser cut her hair short and crisp. She shuddered every time she thought about the ponytail brushing against her neck as she spent each argument screaming and protesting for her life. Even worse was the memory of how carefully Joe had styled her hair, forsaking his usual clumsiness to braid every strand with a remarkable tenderness. She didn’t want to remember any of it- even though, as the locks went cascading to the floor, she was reminded starkly of Keiji’s bleach-stained trauma response.

“For some reason, something to do with the mafia, we were kidnapped. And pulled into a death game. There were twenty of us, including me and Joe. I- I’m not going to get into all the specifics. It’s going to make me sick to my stomach if I do. But… they made us play this sadistic fucking game to narrow down the competition. Based on cards. Joe drew a bad card, and… they executed him.” Something in Sara’s throat tightened as she finished speaking, and she fell silent.

“Just like that?” His mother’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “How… how’d they kill him?”

“I’d rather not say.” There came the gushing sound of blood pulsing through the tubes. “He didn’t suffer too long” - she hoped - “but it was a gruesome way to die. I don’t want to think about it, please understand.”

It took a moment for his mother to register the words and nod, face still painted with horror.

“Why… how did the two of you even end up there in the first place?” Ryoko spoke up again. “You said something about the mafia? How the hell are you two connected with the mafia?”

“I don’t know how I am,” Sara responded immediately. “It must be something with my family. I couldn’t control any of this, I swear, but… Joe wasn’t meant to end up there at all.”

Ryoko paused. “He… he wasn’t meant to end up there?”

Sara swallowed back the lump in her throat. “The game… it was something that was being prepared for ages. There weren’t just a few ragtag kidnappers behind it, there was an entire organization. Even the police were involved. They ran AI tests, hundreds if not thousands of them, trying to calculate who’d be the most likely to win. And… when all the numbers came back, the person most likely to win… was me.”

She spread her arms wide, baring her sins and her cruelties to the world, and in that moment felt distinctly like the angel of death Keiji had branded her to be.

“They needed something to drag me down, I guess. Make the odds more balanced. So they dragged Joe into this fucking mess. I guess they thought that him being there would keep me steady enough to make everything fair.” A cold hand, dripping with tendrils of phantom blood, caressed her chin with a lethal grip. “...They were right.”

Ryoko’s gaze had gone cold again. “So Joe died just because you cared about him? What the fuck kind of death sentence is that?”

Sara shook her head numbly.

“Why did it have to be him?” The heartbreak in Ryoko’s voice was clearer than day. “So many people love you, Sara, why did it have to be him? Hell, I’m your best friend too, aren’t I? Why couldn’t it have been me? I’m a much worse person than Joe ever was, I deserved to be in his place way more. Couldn’t they have killed me instead?”

Sara winced at the growing desperation in her best friend’s voice, the raw crack she knew all too well. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me. Sara could have almost fooled herself into seeing a crisp aquamarine when Ryoko’s hair flashed into the light.

“Ryoko… it could have been.”

The girl fell silent.

“They had files on you too. They knew how close we were, they knew how much you meant to me… but Joe was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And they fucking killed him for it.”

Oh, how she wished she could go back to that balmy early-autumn night, see the smile on Joe’s face and listen to his lighthearted laughter again. The desire to keep one’s friend safe had become a crime deserving of a death sentence.

Ryoko’s eyes remained locked to Sara’s, devoid of any dullness. In the look they exchanged was a deep, sinking understanding, one that had nauseated Sara to the core the first time the realization struck her.

It was by no crafty strategy that Joe had died instead of Ryoko, no favoritism biased against the kindest person either of them would ever know. It was a simple, terrible twist of fate. Ryoko could have taken his place had she done something as inconsequential as offering to walk Sara home instead.

But she hadn’t.

It took everything in Sara’s power to avoid wondering what would’ve changed if she had.

“How is any of this okay?” Ryoko broke the silence weakly. “They killed him- they could have killed me, too. He was seventeen. Seventeen. How did anybody let this happen? How did this happen, Sara?”

“I- I don’t know.” Ryoko’s wrath was simmering; even though Sara knew truly that she wasn’t the subject of the anger, she still felt scalded. “I miss him so much, Ryoko. I watched him die, and nothing in my power let me save him. I miss him, Ryoko, I miss him every waking minute of every day. We were supposed to escape together and get out safe and pretend this never happened, but…” the tears were beginning to well up again. She couldn’t bear the thought of breaking down in front of anyone, especially not over him.

“I’m going to go make some coffee,” his mother interrupted suddenly. She’d been noticeably quiet, but the still-fresh streaks of tears painted down her cheeks told the story she didn’t need to vocalize. “Some coffee, and some snacks. And we’ll keep talking from there, alright? Do you guys have your phones?”

The two girls nodded uneasily.

“Please… find any pictures you have of him. I want to make this wall as bright as possible.”

Without any other words, she hurried out of the room, and it fell to silence once more. Outside the window, the cool autumn breeze began to stir the leaves in the air, gusting forward to brush against Sara’s cheek just as the hallucination had done mere minutes ago.

And the Tazuna household began to feel more like home again.

#is this worth publishing to ao3 #idk #gonna put it in the tags im feelin risky tonight #yttd #joe tazuna #sara chidouin #ryoko hirose #joesara #i guess #i just tag anything joesara at this point even if it's not outright romantic #idc whether it's romantic or platonic honestly #theyre them #and thats all that matters

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

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Katara hated Zuko. It was a plot point. Sokka never did--and their "friendship" in the show was close to becoming something more--so they were on equal footing and had hinted romance. Zutara is misogynistic--why are you forcing Katara into a relationship with someone she hates? Choose Toph or Suki if you really believe Zuko isn't gay.

there’s so much to unpack here, and i know i should really throw out the whole suitcase, but i just can’t help myself

and please, i beg of you, picture someone laughing so hard that tears are streaming down their face because that’s me right now, reading this ask. i about choked on my eggnog, so thanks for that!

point the first: sokka hated zuko every bit as much as katara did in the first two books. it was a plot point. sokka wanted to leave zuko to die because saving him wouldn’t have been worth the trouble--he was pragmatic and deeply distrustful of anyone who wasn’t in his immediate circle, and that went especially hard for anyone from the fire nation. including the birds!

point the first part two: sokka’s easy acceptance of zuko into the gaang had less to do with any budding friendship or caring for him (since there was none to speak of until the boiling rock episodes), and more to do with a lack of any personal grudge. aka: there was no tension there. nothing to really dig into--no true development of feelings. because aang needed a firebending teacher, zuko was around and willing to take on that role, and also he was a prime roasting target, so sokka was happy enough to let bygones be after he helped them take down combustion man.

which, of course, isn’t to say shipping them isn’t valid. there are plenty of ships that have little to no canon basis but a lot of fandom support, and that’s usually fine....until the fans start getting uppity about it and insisting that there Is Canon Basis Really, and then insisting that the ‘rival’ ship is misogynistic when their alleged ‘canon basis’ requires stripping everything meaningful from the girl’s relationship to the boy and giving it to her brother instead. which is exactly what you’re doing here, but i digress.

point the second: how on earth was sokka and zuko’s ‘friendship’ in the show (and why the scare quotes? were they not actually friends? are you really sitting in my inbox right now devaluing their platonic relationship because you don’t think it exists outside of your belief that they really wanted to fuck the whole time, despite sokka being in a happy relationship with someone else?) ‘close to becoming something more’? when did they ever have a single, solitary conversation that hinted at any ‘deeper’ feelings? sokka spent most of their buddy cop adventure to boiling rock mooning over his girlfriend (heh, get it? mooning? because he- oh, you get the point), to the point where he had literal hearteyes the instant he saw her--and zuko’s purpose there wasn’t to deepen his relationship with sokka so much as it was to reunite sokka and katara with their father, and to see an example of what a healthy paternal relationship actually looks like.

(one of my favorite shots in the show is zuko’s soft smile when sokka and katara are hugging hakoda)

so already your claim that they ‘had hinted romance’ falls incredibly flat, because there was absolutely nothing in the show that was ‘hinting’ they had romantic feelings for one another--in universe or out of it. sokka was happily in love with suki, and even the one scene that i can imagine might make shippers scream--when zuko popped into sokka’s tent late at night--sokka was about to have sex with his girlfriend, and when he asked zuko ‘what’s on your mind’, the first words out of his mouth were your sister.

(and then, as soon as zuko left, sokka was calling for suki again. the next morning, he was making a flower necklace--or a lei. because he got lei’d. it’s amazing the things you pick up when you rewatch the show as an adult lmfao.)

point the third (and this one is really where your argument blows up in your face): your insistence that zutara requires ‘forcing katara into a relationship with someone she hates’ reveals your own ignorance, because it’s demonstrably not true--unless you’re trying to argue that katara hated zuko all the way through to the end of the show, which??? i suppose makes it make more sense that you think zuko and sokka had a hinted romance in the text, because viewing comprehension clearly isn’t your strongsuit.

why are yall so quick to dismiss katara’s own feelings in the name of calling a fictional, noncanon ship ‘misogynistic’? because katara said, in the text, ‘but I am ready to forgive you’--and then she hugged zuko, called him into a group hug with the gaang later, joked (and even flirted) with him on ember island, helped talk him through his anxiety about facing his uncle, and happily agreed to go with him to face his sister, where she saved his life after watching him take a literal bolt of lightning to save hers.

if any of that had happened with sokka, yall would be calling it demonstrable evidence that zuko and sokka are in love. and yet when we use that canonical buildup and the deep bond of friendship and trust zuko and katara have by the end of the series to imagine them getting into a romantic relationship because of feelings developed during these events......you call us misogynistic? really? because we’re ‘forcing’ her into a relationship with someone she ‘hates’....except she didn’t hate him by the end of the series, they were very close friends and had gotten over and had closure from their personal baggage, and that’s the kind of stuff that provides excellent fuel for envisioning a romantic relationship developing!

so what was your argument again?

ETA: i was so busy deconstructing the bulk of your argument that i forgot to address that laughable last line--toph or suki? who had much, MUCH less relationship development with zuko than katara did?? ‘if you really believe zuko isn’t gay’???? im sorry that you can’t recognize a whole bisexual when you see one, but as a bi myself, i know that zuko’s dual-wielding ass couldn’t ‘pick a side’ if his life depended on it. and he had more romantic coding with both jet and katara than he ever had with sokka--that’s just a fact. sorry if the truth hurts, anon!

#atla #zutara #zuko #katara #zukka salt #zukka fandom salt #just covering my bases #sokka #salt for ts #asked #Anonymous

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domosakis · 3 years

Text

[TARO-222] insatiable, pure love!

★ this is inspired by a hentai that was turned into a porn LOL i pretty much just rewrote it the whole first half but then i get bored of it and made it my own story at the end so sorry if its confusing but i spent a lot of time on it so i hope you like it!! ♡

✭ words: 1.9k !! cw: extreme dubcon, borderline noncon, i can't tell who is insane in this story, toxic relationship, assault, public sex, reader is feminized, lmk if i forgot smth omg im so sorry

‘i didn’t really want to do it… at the beginning.’

at least shotaro tells himself that, whether it’s true or not. he took the train home after practice like always but you were there. you looked so cute in your uniform but he couldn’t help but notice how sensual your body made you look. plaid skirt barely reaching the top of your thighs and a thin white blouse that might as well have been made with tissue.

he was addicted as soon as he saw you. he felt the need to go home right away, thoughts of making you scream plaguing his mind. stress, deadlines, the pressure of his academy… he deserved a little happiness right?

suddenly the train stopped and shotaro took the opportunity to dramatically fall towards you, your back against his. his hand pressed against your ass, moving your skirt up showing your panties to anyone who looked your way.

his inner monologue was just a stream of excuses he made to keep touching you. so soft… and even though he knows it’s not right he doesn’t make even an attempt to stop.

‘again… another idiot.’

you wondered how far he would go today, after all you did need to get home and start preparing dinner. you didn’t resist instead letting your mind wander to your daily chores and responsibilities, you just hoped your stop came soon.

suddenly you were yanked out of your thoughts, your body carelessly being tossed into the position he wanted and his hands came to grab at your breasts. he wasn’t gentle at all in the way he handled you but at least he wasn’t being completely rude. you’d let him do what he wanted as long as he stayed quiet. he’s not really hurting me like the others so what’s the worst that could happen?

shotaro let himself get brave, after all you weren’t denying him. if anything you were making it too easy. he let his hand slip under your panties to feel your cunt directly. he only grew more confident when he felt how wet you were.

you didn’t understand why you felt this way, you could say it was your body’s natural reaction but then how did you end up with this stranger in the love hotel down the street?

strange men doing what they wanted to you wasn't what you would call a foreign experience. maybe it was because you didn’t dress all that modestly, maybe it was your body or maybe you were just an easy target. whatever it was you definitely weren’t able to defend yourself from it and you ended up in a lot of rough situations.

this felt different though. okay sure so maybe he still molested you on the train without any communication but… he looked your age, and cute, and he didn’t call you mean names or hit you, and he even took you to this nice hotel instead of taking you against the urinal in a seedy bathroom!

maybe you needed to raise your standards.

whatever. it was too late now, this man (whose name you still didn’t now) had you laid underneath him, playing with your body however he wanted and you got the slight feeling he hadn’t touched anybody else in awhile at least. he took his time massaging your tits and all you could do was writhe beneath him.

“do you feel good?” shotaro asked you once he had your top half completely bare. you didn’t answer and turned your head to the side to avoid his gaze.

“no? your nipples are so hard though…” it was true your body was responding to everything he did but you didn’t want him to know that. still, it didn’t do much to deter him and suddenly his hands reached to pin yours next to your head, his mouth attaching itself to your breast.

you couldn’t help but moan out then, your hips bucking to meet his. your body had never been played with like this before and you needed more. he complimented your body and it made your heart swell in a twisted way.

“fuck. why are you so wet?” he laughed at you but you were distracted by his fingers playing with your clothed clit.

“you’re so cute, i need to see more.” you could barely see only feeling him spread your legs apart and taking off your panties roughly leaving only your skirt bunched around your waist. and before you knew it he was fucking into you.

‘this can’t be bad right?’ shotaro thought. ‘they’re so wet they must be enjoying this’

he could barely hold himself back grabbing onto the skirt around you and using it to fuck his dick into you harder. his thrusts were fast and unrelenting and you tried to say no but nothing comprehensible came out of your mouth.

you could already feel him deep within you and you thought you would cry once he pushed your leg to your chest, taking you sideways.

“no i can’t! i can’t!” you managed to cry out but it didn’t matter anyways, if anything it felt like it made him go harder. he let himself stay deep inside you for a bit, enjoying the way your body twitched around him before flipping you onto your stomach.

he took his time teasing you, rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt until he finally listened to you begging him to stop. you were so far gone at that point only able to focus on the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls. it was almost painful how fast he rubbed against you but his tip was reaching inside you so well.

you almost felt yourself losing consciousness before he pulled out, cumming across your tits and letting some hit your face. your body wouldn’t stop twitching and you realized you had cum as well, the feeling of your pussy clenching around nothing making you feel outrageously empty.

you expected to open your eyes to an empty room, left alone to clean yourself up and get home. instead you were very surprised to see the same man who had fucked you to the edge on his knees, his hands together begging for forgiveness.

“i’m so sorry! please forgive me!” you could hear him mumbling to himself and you almost felt bad for him.

“i’m so terrible, and i didn’t even use a condom… if you get pregnant… i’m so sorry!”

you had quite literally never been in this situation before and you were afraid the man was about to burst into tears.

“uhm… it doesn’t matter really.” you said before looking away. now shotaro was taken aback so you kept going before he could say anything.

“well it does matter, you shouldn’t assault girls but uhm…” you had no idea how to explain this.

“truthfully it’s really easy for me to be attracted to you, and i’ve gone through a lot worse…” you started going into detail about your past experiences and shotaro was growing increasingly confused and worried about your mental state.

“anyways today felt different, like you didn’t cum inside me! that’s a first and… i even came. i felt like you were gentle.” shotaros mind started to reel at the idea of the things you would let him get away with if you thought that was gentle and even when you’re praising him for doing less then the bare minimum he could only think of worse things. truly terrible.

you kept going.

“i won’t call the police and… i felt really good today.”

shotaro thought he was going to die, he just assaulted you and you were saying these things. he could feel himself getting hard again and before he could stop it he was back on top of you.

you liked it. someone like you was actually attracted to someone like him. he couldn’t pass the chance to take you again. he was going to play with you as much as you let him.

after shotaro had once again taken you how he liked he, once again, went through the five stages of grief begging for your forgiveness. you were too fucked out to comfort him at the point and he quickly left leaving you with fare for the ride home.

he decided to leave the whole incident behind him, citing it as a life lesson learned. (even though he should’ve known that assault was bad without having to do it but, whatever.) he promised himself that he would forget about that kind of thing and focus on dance. that is until he ran into you once again.

you greeted him first, before he could run away and that action alone confused him. you looked so cute just like the first time he saw you, but this time you were in a pink tank top and short denim skirt. equally as irresistible. you guys actually made small talk at first until shotaro couldn’t hold it in.

“what happened last night… would you want to do it again? i’ll be gentle!”

you smiled weakly. “if you say so.”

you gave him a blowjob in a bathroom stall before he took you back to his dorm.

in his defense it was very gentle, he took his time with you leaving hot kisses all over your body. you didn’t know what to do with yourself you’d never had sex like that before. he was sweet and thoughtful and you found yourself wanting to hear his voice and feel him more and more.

you wanted him to feel the same way about you. you wanted him to think about you for more than your body. you wanted him to crave every part of you. you felt yourself get lost in the feelings you were developing for him. you pressed your hands against his chest when he moved to enter you.

"please… i want to make you feel good too.” shotaro just stared at you slightly confused before he responded.

“you make me feel so good baby, i think i’m addicted to you.” it’s possible he said more but that’s all you needed to hear. you reached your arms around him and pressed yourself as close to his body as you could.

at that moment you could start to forget the circumstances in which you met. shotaro was so sweet to you now and he wasn’t mean to you then. would it be too much to hope for a relationship with this man? you could imagine letting him use you whenever he wants keeping him satisfied and he would be kind to you in return.

you wanted to kiss him so bad, you were staring at his lips and he thankfully took the hint grabbing your hair to pull you impossibly closer to him. it made you so happy. having shotaro as your boyfriend so no one else could mess with you. and he makes you feel so good…

shotaro loved the look on your face. you looked absolutely obsessed with him and that’s how he wanted it. he felt so lucky that you accepted him, any guilt that he previously felt was totally gone, now he just wanted to have you near him all the time. have you as his and make sure everyone knew.

you were perfect for him. so responsive and eager to please. you loved everything he gave you and he forgot anything else mattered when he saw you.

at some point he knew this was bad. the way you met and how you got to this point. but you didn’t care so why should he? he’ll take advantage of your past to make sure that you’re thankful for everything he does to you.

#shotaro smut #shotaro imagine #shotaro scenarios #nct smut #nct imagine #nct scenarios #yandere nct #yandere shotaro #nct 2020 #nct #osaki shotaro #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios

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deniigi · 4 years

Note

bro, work made me depressed that I literally left my seat to regain any resemblance of joy or something equivalent before breaking down again. Do you think you can provide a ficlet I involving Peter and Sam to cheer me up?

FUCK CAPITALISM

TAKE THIS

Title: Calibrating

Summary: Sam and Peter talk themselves towards a meaningful discussion.

---------

Peter did this thing—this infuriating thing where he texted shit like ‘come over’ and then Sam had to bend over backwards to be flirty and coy.

It was imperative that he came across as flirty and coy.

Im-fucking-perative, regardless of what Leilani said or Matt’s annoyance at what he called the ‘jungle of depravity’ that overtook the group chat pretty much daily.

Sam didn’t care.

If Peter texted the group or sent any message that might be construed upside-down as something romantic or sexual, Sam not only had to catch it, but he had to volley it back.

This, he told Leilani, sealed their No-Homo contract.

She stared at him.

He decided to demonstrate.

“See, here, look, I’ll show you,” he said, dragging out his phone. “Exhibit A. There he is, see? Asking about the strength of PVC pipe in pounds per meter like a fuckin’ tease. Now I can’t just let him think that I saw that and didn’t think of it as a metaphor, alright? So I say—”

“Sam, why does he need to know the strength of PVC pipe?” Leilani interrupted.

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point of this discussion.

“I’m sending a winky-face,” Sam informed her as he did that very thing.

Leilani stared harder than before.

But look, skepticism was unrewarded. Peter texted a kiss right back and said ‘oh boo, you always know just want to say.’

How could she not see the No-Homo? Sam could do this all day. He could and there would be absolutely no problems and he wouldn’t want to suffocate himself in his pillow at the end of it all.

It was fine.

“Samuel,” Leilani said, “I’m going to tell you something and I want you to hear it with an open heart. Will you open your heart for me?”

Sam spun around in his chair and arranged his arms and legs so that they were as open as they could feasibly be without being obscene.

“I am more open than a boiled clam,” he informed her.

Leilani blinked slowly, then shook her head and checked over her shoulders. She waved him in closer. Then closer. And then close enough that he could smell her perfume on her neck.

“You’re the tease,” she said.

Then she left the backroom. And Sam could only stare after her, frozen in horror as his wide-open heart wrinkled in on itself, picking up mass and gravity until it was naught but a black hole.

“I’m the tease?” he whispered to himself in shock.

Oh no.

OH NO.

“SENSEI.”

Matt dropped his collection of folders and swore, clutching at his chest.

“We have discussed volume, Sam,” he said, bending down to collect his paper children.

Sam took the opportunity to throw both arms around his neck from behind as a threat.

“Don’t lie,” he warned. “Swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, amen.”

Matt stood up and Sam felt his toes leave the floor. He hadn’t planned this far ahead.

“Or what?” Matt asked, 110% unfazed.

Sam wished that his feet weren’t kicking around in air here. It really put a dent in his intimidation factor.

“Am I a tease?” he asked.

Matt faced front with heavy eyebrows. Sam couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he knew that aura of irritation.

“If you have to ask the question, then you already know the answer,” Matt said. “Does that help?”

“No, I hate you now, actually,” Sam told him.

Matt dropped him right on his ass.

There had to be a way to attain proof. To determine once and for all that it was Sam who was in the wrong here, misinterpreting things like the genius that he was.

Thankfully, Sam’s experience of growing up as a non-only child for the last two decades had prepared him exactly for this type of conversation.

SC: HANNAH AM I A TEASE???

HC: yes

HC: next question

SC: FUCK.

SC: WHAT IF ITS NOT NO-HOMO?

HC: my dear brother, the only options if something is not no-homo is for it to be no-no or homo-homo.

SC: Murder me

HC: gladly

SC: I’m in possible homo-homo with spiderman

HC: are you sure it’s not no-no?

SC: MURDER ME

HC: okay but like if it’s no-no then this is not a problem, right?

SC: If it’s no-no then I’ve read every sign wrong and I deserve to become a partially eaten tadpole awash in an indifferent boiling sea

HC: okay so we’re leaning INTO the drama today I gotcha. Alright but like, just for the sake of arguing, what if it was homo-homo?

SC: then I need you to bury my body somewhere no one will ever find it because my heart can’t stand requited love you know this about me.

HC: give me your login

SC: thank you I love you you’re the only person who matters

BT: Spiderman.

SM: Blindspot. DMing? You okay?

BT: this is Hannah.

SM: OH

SM: hi Hannah are you okay? Did you need something?

BT: My brother never got tested for reading comprehension but would have failed anyways. Can you arbitrate an arbitrary argument for us?

SM: I’m positive that there is a link between those two ideas that I am missing, but sure?

BT: okay are you ready?

SM: my loins have been girded.

BT: gross. you two are made for each other. Okay: what are your opinions on 24yo Chinese dudes with bad vision who are 5’7” tall, with terrible hair and brains as big and gaseous as Jupiter?

SM: positive

BT: you’re so romantic spidey.

SM: I know

BT: I’m going to tell him now

SM: WAIT DON’T TELL HIM

BT: byeeeeeee

Sam was going to have a heart attack. He couldn’t look at his phone. He was just going to lay here until he wasted away into a fossil.

Mm, yes, what a wonderful way to escape any and all feelings. That was—

His phone chirped and he nearly fell out of his chair in a hurry to answer it.

HC: [image] [image]

HC: you owe me your bones

SC: AFASDFADFAS:FJaf’asdfjahsdlfihasdl’fas

SC: TAKE THEM

HC: if you fuck spiderman you have to get pregnant and demand alimony for your beautiful mixed babies Samuel

SC: Darling sister, we’ve talked about this. it isn’t going to happen I still have yet to steal a womb

HC: try harder

HC: ttyl

Okay, this was fine.

Everything was fine.

Spidey liked Sam back, it was no big deal. Spidey liked everyone back. Even the teases.

Even.

The.

Teases.

Fuck, Sam had to move.

Foggy caught him biting his nails to pieces over the copy machine and asked him if he was okay. He was not. Foggy could read this off him. He didn’t ask again, but he did say that if Sam was feeling particularly anxious about something he was welcome to go have his breakdown upstairs in Kirsten’s kitchen instead of downstairs among the files.

Sam appreciated his offer. He hiked up the stairs, and halfway up, his phone chirped.

His heart stopped.

It chirped again, and then again. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, it was chirping every couple of seconds with messages being typed and sent at mach speed.

He kicked off his shoes and went to go stand over Kirsten’s sink to open the first one.

PP: Sam it’s peter hey listen your sister messaged me

PP: and was asking some pretty invasive questions and I replied to her. I don’t know if you saw them but I just wanted to say that if that makes you uncomfortable in any way know that I absolutely don’t mind and I’ll stop

PP: you can tell me to fuck off if that crossed your boundaries. I shouldn’t have even messaged her back without asking you

PP: and obviously in future I won’t talk to her until I’ve cleared it with you I just wasn’t thinking I’m never thinking it’s a little hard to think sometimes

PP: especially when you message me back and I get caught up in the games and the emojis and stuff and like I’m sure that sometimes I overstep but I don’t mean to and you can tell me at any point if you want me to stop

PP: I guess I just really like to talk to you sometimes and it’s fun to have someone to banter with who actually banters back like not in a mean way but in a really nice and funny way. you’re an easy guy to talk to is what I’m saying

PP: which I’m sure you get a lot. I don’t mean that I want to like tell you all my problems I swear it’s not that it’s just more of a AHHHHH I don’t even know what I’m saying I think it’s sorry???

PP: I’m sorry??? I don’t mean to imply anything that isn’t there and I don’t want to make you feel like you have to either. Ar e you mad? Please don’t be mad okay wait no I’ve sent like seven fucking messages I’m being a creep oh my god IM SORRY ILL SHUT UP NOW OKAY SORRY BYE

Oh nooooo.

The panic-induced infodump was not only familiar but horrendously endearing.

Sam had to explode now.

Man. Bummer.

SC: it’s okay Peter

PP: OH THANK GOD

PP: is it tho??? Are you sure?

SC: I have positive feelings towards people like you too

Sam’s heart pounded. He almost locked his phone and threw it in the sink, but another text came in just as that thought finished crossing his mind.

PP: you do?

SC: yes of course I do

PP: oh nice

SC: yeah

Annnnnnnd cue mutual nerd awkwardness. Great. Well done, Sam, you’ve done it again.

He sighed and turned away from the sink and sunk down onto the floor with his back against it.

Such a loser, Chung. So painfully awkward. Would it kill you to, just for once, slow down and chill for a minute?

God.

PP: hey sam?

No, Sam just wanted to sit on this floor and wallow.

PP: hello? Are you still there?

Sam let his head fall back against the sink. He closed his eyes.

His phone rang in his hand and he nearly had a heart attack. His fingers scrabbled over its face and the caller ID read ‘Peter Parker.’

Oh god.

Oh no.

Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.

“Hello?” he answered to the scratchy phone silence on the other side of the line.

He frowned.

“Hello?” he tried again, a smidge less desperate.

“Hi.”

There he was.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Sorry, just got awkward.”

Peter laughed through the line.

“Me too,” he said. “That was awkward.”

Yeah.

“Yeah.”

A long pause.

“I’m doing it again,” Sam moaned into his hand.

“No, no. Hey, you’re good,” Peter said. “I was just uh. Calling because.” He trailed off.

Sam waited.

“Sam? You still there?”

He startled and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “Sorry, zoning out a little bit. You know, busy day.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Yeah, I know.”

Sam breathed as quietly as he could. He could almost hear Peter doing the same on his end.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta g—” Sam started.

“Hey, do you like me?”

HNG.

“No?” Sam answered and then punched himself in the leg. “Sorry. Uh. I didn’t—I mean, uh. Yes. Of course I like you. You’re a really good person. I admire you a lot.”

Hannah, oh Hannah, where is thine shovel? Sam needed it to dig this grave deeper, please.

“Oh. Okay, I just—I guess I uh, have a hard time reading the tone of your texts sometimes,” Peter said.

“It’s okay, I get that a lot,” Sam said. “I’ll try harder to be more direct.”

“No,” Peter said. “No, no, you don’t have to change anything.”

“Oh? Okay, well. Maybe I still will, though,” Sam said.

If Peter wouldn’t have heard him, he would have started to try to fit his whole fist in his mouth.

Five minutes of conversation and they were still saying nothing.

“Sam?”

He swallowed.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Next time you’re in the city, would you, uh, maybe want to go out somewhere? With me?”

Out? What like, to a movie or something?

“Yeah, just like that,” Peter said. “’Cause I uh. Would like to. Do that, I mean. With you.”

“With me?” Sam asked. “Oh right, and your other friends, uh, names—sorry, I’m bad with names. N-ned?”

“No,” Peter said oddly abruptly. “Well, I mean—I don’t mean it like that. I just—just with you. For now. That’s what I mean.”

“Oh. Uh. Kinda like a date?” Sam asked through the forcefield of self-hatred that felt like it spanned the entire continental US.

There was a pause. Sam held his breath.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Exactly like a date. If you don’t mind—you know, doing that with me.”

AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

“Are you trying to lure me to a secondary location, Mr. Parker?” Sam asked seriously.

The laugh that met him made all the muscles in his shoulders relax.

“Maybe if the bit at the first location goes well,” Peter said. Then added hurriedly, “If you’re down for that.”

Sam was down for it right now.

Actually, maybe not in Kirsten’s kitchen. But like, right now in a different location.

“If it’s a movie date, we can do it through Netflix Party,” he pointed out faux-lightly. “It wouldn’t be the same, but we could do it this weekend, even. Saturday—I’m off Saturday.”

Peter said nothing for a long time.

“Okay. Saturday,” he finally agreed, “I can do Saturday. Kinda hard to hold your hand through a screen, but I can give it my best shot?”

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffff.

“Oh, I bet you will,” Sam nearly choked.

“You’re really cute, Sam.”

NO. SHUT UP. YOU ARE.

“Thanks.”

“I wanted to kiss you last time you were here, but I was too, uh. Shy. Embarrassed. One of them.”

Sam was going to puke, but in like, the happiest kind of way.

“I like you a lot too, Peter,” he whispered.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No.”

“Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.”

“Shut up, I’m not. I—the old man’s downstairs, his ears aren’t as good through ceilings, but I just want to make sure—”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said. “I’m sure that’s what it is. So I’ll see you Saturday? Maybe Facetime or something?”

“Yeah, Saturday,” Sam said. “I’ll send you a time when I know. I’ve gotta go. Meltdown-alloted-breaktime is over.”

Peter laughed.

“Alright, man, I’ll talk to you later. Bye now.”

“Bye,” Sam said lamely.

He hung up the phone. He did not scream. But he did fist pump and then fall onto his side.

---------

Here’s to hoping things get easier for you anon!!

#fic #ficlet #btsm #samuel chung #peter parker #I just love them being awkward nerds with each other #I JUST WANT THEM TO KISS AND THEN CRY A LITTLE ABOUT IT ITS FINE

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adamsvanrhijn · 4 years

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not to be very annoying, but do you happen to know any good books/resources about lgbt slang/identities in victorian/edwardian/etc england? (i mean, things such as lesbians calling each other "toms" and the like). don't worry if you don't know any, but i just figured i'd ask since this was kinda in your Area Of Interest so you might know some off the top of your head.

the not annoying at all but this is a more complex question than at first glance hahaha

TL;DR: there are many types of queer language / we have way more info about men, who have their own lexicon / this era is widely seen as the era in which the concept of identity is actually coming into play / books list at the end, scroll down til you reach bolded text if you don’t want my commentary.

so when you’re looking at mid 19th - interwar lgbt communities, whether in europe or the uk or the usa it doesn’t really matter bc this is quite universal, you’ve got at least three registers, for lack of an easier word:

how self-identified homosexual, inverted, queer, abnormal etc men (henceforth gay men) speak with each other

how self-identified “” women (henceforth lesbian women) speak with each other

interactions between these groups

these naturally intersect with other socioeconomic class factors.

back to england specifically:

despite legal considerations gay men have the most agency and ability to move around and therefore are more likely to interact with each other and form communities. so now you have additional registers:

upper middle / upper class

middle / lower middle / working class (more registers here but nobody asked me and i promise i will give you recs soon)

again, interactions between them

the latter category has limited applications; most of them have to do with prostitution or casual sex and tend to be about categorizing people in terms of what sex acts they participate in. (this is universally true of most forms of gay slang and/or their origins for obvious reasons) think locker room talk. OR, we’re looking at cross class relationships and how other people view members of cross class relationships. not to generalize bc there are other things than this but what is best documented here is the upper class pov of these interactions

for the first category there is much less slang & unique community language, when you look at letters and works of literature etc etc people are picking and choosing from both medical/psychiatric terminology, which is developing rapidly from the 1860s on, and like, classical works; you get a lot of alluding to things. artistic communities (bloomsbury group, natalie clifford barney’s harem in paris and what have you) meanwhile are sort of all over the map. but bc this isn’t Polite Society talk, most of the sources for this kind of language tend to be limited in scope. which is true for all subculture language really but like in this case, authors of the day who are writing what they know are we think giving a pretty accurate picture of what their actual communities were like... but it’s put through a filter for publication.

by the 20th century urban working class gay men in certain circles are using polari, a subcultural lexicon which came from mid/late 19th century theatre and music hall slang, which came from fairground cant, seafaring , labor slang, Yiddish, cockney, theatre slang, fishmarkets, French, Italian, underground crime rings literally i could go on and there’s lots of debate about this. it’s turn of the century when it comes to be used very widely within the gay community, and while its origins are in london it made it to other uk urban centres fairly quickly. this lasted well into the latter half of the 20th century and is the base for a lot of community slang today, which leads me to

lesbian women, who also used polari, albeit to a lesser extent. these were primarily lesbians who were also in the 3rd camp above - ones who are involved in the community and interacting w/ gay men regularly. (”straight women who work in theatre” is another category of woman polari speakers haha but performance slang went thru many changes and eventually things got p separate so you had fairground & theatre cant and gay subculture slang having similar roots but very distinct in usage)

for lesbian communities the same thing as w gay men applies for the upper classes just to a lesser degree due to the relative lack of a community experienced by women

but a very important point here is that, ESPECIALLY during the victorian period, less so moving into the 20th century, intimate relationships between women are viewed very, very differently than those between men - male relationships have hard and fast boundaries of what is and isnt acceptable, those of women do not.

the development of identity w/ sexuality for women i think in many ways had a lot more to do with women who expressed their gender differently than women who had intimate exclusive relationships w/ other women

anyway the point is there unfortunately is no like comprehensive text for All Queer Language at this point in time, nor for the development of sexual identity, and the nature of this field (linguistics + history + sociology about queer stuff) means that a lot of the good work is in academic articles which i do NOT know off the top of my head. :-( but here’s some stuff !!

LIST OF THE ACTUAL BOOKS SORRY ABOUT ALL THAT

ok so these are all nonfiction, mostly academic nonfiction, but i want to stress that contemporary literature is a REALLY good way to get a (often rose tinted but not always) look into subculture and there are many novels that play with and/or poke at the ongoing development of sexual identity, especially in edwardia, especially especially in the 1920s, so if youve got endless time to read on your hands it is absolutely worth poking around there.

i have a list in the works of 1920s literature that has lgbt stuff in it and i realise thats a bit late for you but even so!!

also: compilations of letters, memoirs, etc are like super super invaluable

anyway ive bolded the most important ones:

Kosofsky Sedgwick, Eve. Epistemology of the Closet. 1990. University of California Press. [required lgbt theory reading, literally the foundation for soooo much]

Marcus, Sharon. Between Women: Friendship, Desire, and Marriage in Victorian England. 2007. Princeton University Press.

Robb, Graham. Strangers: Homosexual Love in the Nineteenth Century. 2003. [this is like, functionally prerequisite reading for any gay male stuff for the 19th century & robb is an excellent popular historian who also has an actual academic background]

Rupp, Leila J. Sapphistries: A Global History of Love between Women. 2008. NYU Press.

Russett, Cynthia. Sexual Science: The Victorian Construction of Womanhood. 1989. Harvard University Press. [touches on things but is not About sexuality/identity]

these are both already on my downton abbey research list but they both discuss language thruout and identity very thoroughly:

Brady, Sean. Masculinity and Male Homosexuality in Britain, 1861-1913. 2005. Palgrave Macmillan.

David, Hugh. On Queer Street: A Social History of British Homosexuality 1895-1995. 1997. HarperCollins.

for polari, see basically everything paul baker’s done. the 2019 might be the most accessible but i havent read it yet:

Baker, Paul. Fantabulosa: A dictionary of Polari & gay slang. 2002. London: Continuum.

Baker, Paul. Polari: The Lost Language of Gay Men (Routledge Studies in Linguistics). 2002. London: Routledge.

Baker, Paul. Fantabulosa! The Story of Polari, Britain’s Secret Gay Language. 2019. London: Reaktion.

while it predates the era youre asking about, this book is good reading that leads up to the changes of the victorian era in sexual morality & how that affects identity and language:

Donoghue, Emma. Passions Between Women: British Lesbian Culture 1668–1801. 1995. HarperCollins.

also i hate to do this but like. foucault lol. obviously not focused on britain but very much focused on the development of identity and sexuality.

ive been working on this for like three straight hours im gonna go eat lunch now

#da resources #community culture tag

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seedleaflesssapling · 3 years

Text

Ver 2.0? Turning Point?

I can't really identify to which point in my life that i started to doubt myself but im pretty sure that it was because of UP. Damn, that school, my uni. It do really have the ability to make you feel small; i was in a disadvantaged side when i entered it, you know. I was acquainted, no we did not really talked one-on-one, but i heard when we did introductions - Pisay, UP High, science comprehensive schools, Xavier University, who wouldn't be intimidated by that when you came from Col. Ruperto Abellon National School (who would know where that is? I was lucky enough for a teacher recognized it and my classmates be like 'ahhhhhh,' .....really?! I dont even know where xavier is, it just sounds cool). Another thing is that, i wasn't a stem shs graduate - a leverage(?) or excuse (?) that i always use for them to know that i am at disadvantaged side here, not their competitor, probably a NOBODY. They, being stem graduates, have capstone projects you never thought that they have at that age, but i would hear them saying that it was publish in this journal (whatever, idk the journals lmao, i dont even understand their studies 2nd lmao, but that was some smart shit you know, a shit that makes me feel pathetic for being too proud of my what? Correlational study from inconsistent surveys?!!! Wtf, wtf, wtf). But it was a very good peer pressure you know, i kinda turned it that way. Being left behind, being on the rock bottom, i have no other place to go but up. It wasn't the goal, like making or taking the top spot, i just need to survive.

Inevitably, the exams came. I had hard time adjusting chem but math was kind to me. Who would have thought that i would get two 1.0 at my math subjects for the first semester, the sem that i thought i would barely pass. I was even a CS for that sem. Who would have thought? Our first chemical engineering subject that involves computations was on the list the next semester and the first exam, out of 100 i got something like 20ish. WTF. THAT WAS MY FIRST FAILED EXAM. but no, never did cry but tears were flooding inside. So apparently, i have to focus more on this subject and i did. Some were still failing, but i raised my average up. We also had physics, my first ever physics. I really love physics that time or that sir rommel is just a very good professor. I got the highest score on our second LE, everybody else did fail. Small victories. Not that they lose, but i just won. But i heard one time they were talking about me re: passing the physics exam and even getting a high score. They were uhm.. a guy i really look up to cause his good, the other was a girl that idk but i think she didn't like me back then. They were friends but eventually the girl transferred uni because who cares why. i heard the guy saying something like sin.o gid na si franklin nga taas iya score man, maybe even worse than that, i still look up to the guy even until now. But wtf. I really took it in that time, like i wanted to cry but did not. With all that, i got a fair grade at physics. I still got 1.0 at maths that sem and even maintained being on the CS list. S M I L E. BECAUSE WE HAVE A MIDYEAR CLASS. VERY EXHAUSTING FOR SOMEONE WHO DONT WANT ANYTHING BUT JUST ADJUST, SURVIVE, AND FIND MEANING OF BEING A UP STUDENT. It was just one subject and it was math, but i got 2.0?!!! I have no excuse to that, i am very grateful for the family who accommodated me. After midyear class, i did got sick, it sucks, really sucks. I wanted to file an LOA for the next academic year, it is the only thing i can think of for me to go back on track (i haven't said that my parents pushed me to graduate with latin honor and i wanted to also for my resume to look good because everything else in me is effed up). I really wanted to pause and be free for a while but i also wanted to graduate on time (mostly because i want to give the bitches who dared to have expectations be put on my shoulders not the satisfaction, but the audacity to tell them 'i aint did it for ya') so i asked mama. THANK GOD, SHE DID SAY NA KUNG ANO LANG KAYA MO, AMO LANG DA IH 😭😭🤧🤧 so i enrolled, but went to school late, haven't attended the school opening but all is good. I did kind of reset, just enough for me to face school again.

Second year, it was fucked. I did really love coding on octave and doing sheets at ms excel though. On that year, we have formed the che 103 bagsak group. Together with two of my classmates on 103 and math 55, we became buddies after failing che 103 on the first LE, another 30 over 100 exam hahahahaha. We made bawi just enough for us to pass the subject hahahahahuhu. I have thermodynamics sub, i barely pass. Thank G na wala ko nag removal. If ever i did, i am so sure that i wont make it. My GWA for that sem was not enough for me to be a CS. Who cares? I still did, actually but mama was never been too pushy since then, even since after midyear, after getting that 2.0 grade from the only subject i am good at. Btw, my math 55 for first sem, second year, was 1.25. Not a 1.0 but still, it's good. Second semester that year was when pandemic hit so there's nothing much to tell. I was, sorry but i was really, glad to be away from school for a while, not until for a while became forever. Virtual university set-up was very hard. With too much from taking in whatever i see and hear on my surroundings, even just at home, everything is difficult. It is very hard to find motivation and discipline in studying when i was surrounded with people who do nothing. Even to this point i am writing, everyday is like a battle, but is mostly an internal one. Self vs self, a war no one knows who will win. So the confidence, the tower of knowledge i did build, exponentially went down. I did really well when i was in grade 10, i did my best that time and it can be seen at the achievements i had that year. Being consistently on top 1 the whole year, placing second on division MMC (even getting the highest score on the written elimination round for the whole cluster), doing well sa physics under maam andico, placings on cluster journalism competitions - it was like a record best, best record (?) Whatever. But it wasn't enough you know, i eventually came fourth like wtf. I had read from somewhere Newton saying like the two years when he did write the three laws of motion and the calculus stuff were the two best years of his life, and it kept me thinking that what if mine already passed? That it was when i was in high school?

But, back when i was in school, every time that i was belittling myself or even at random times that i would feel nervous for nothing, my classmates and close friends would say na:

Uno mo man ang Math, uno mo na na (it was a one or two time thing, what if chamba lang to???)

Ikaw man highest sa first le sa thermo (it was really an absolutely one time thing, i barely passed that sub)

Alam ka man sa physics (i was just invested on physics and maybe nachambahan lang na ang ginpractice ko solve kay parallel sa exam ni sir)

Alam ka, d ka lang confident (OKAY???!)

I was ignoring those shit cause who cares if i did really good that time. Yeah, it felt good but it wasn't fulfilling. Satisfied but not happy. But with recent events, i think i would be changing. This post will be a written contract that i will push to be better, to start trusting myself, and build that confidence glow behind me; to believe that i am bright and i can hack it, whatever it may be.

For coherence, i would itemize na lang all of the events that brought me to epiphany lol

It was Friday, 17 Sep, when Dean, in our plant design subject, gave an activity for us - to come up with solutions that would address problems he presented. 1 off grid island community (either you address the water, electricity, and phone reception/signal problem under a 100k budget) and 2 vinegar packaging with a 500 mL volume and should cost less than the cost of vinegar. The due's on Monday, 20 Sep. The challenge is that you should come up with an idea that is not the same with those who already turned in their proposed solutions. I haven't turned in mine until Sunday afternoon. We are 23 in class, hence there should be 23 proposed solutions for each problem. However, only 20 or 21 turned in their solutions and as a student who decided to do it three days after the sheet was given, i was at the second to the last of the entries hahaha. I have limited choice since a lot have been proposed. And ngl, i did entered my idea for the first problem at Sunday evening and for the second problem it was on the afternoon of the next day. Those were basic solutions cause who am I? Am just your basic guy.

Tuesday, 21 Sep (#NeverForget #NeverAgain), class again for plant design (PD). Dean discussed stuffs which im ngl, i did not listen because im bored (not until he said 'we'll have a 5-min break and we'll have a quiz after that' like wtf, how will we do our quiz???!). After the short break, I did study cause i panicked as hell, he presented the prospects of the course, that we will be divided in groups and that the leaders were chosen based on the solutions they turned in the activity previously given. So there's no quiz, i was calm the whole time after that until my name was called. Like wtf??! Your basic guy will be a leader???! Hello!!! So i chat people, asked them if it was a good thing (course it was!!!? So dumb right?!). And then, i asked another leader and she agreed to my argument that we should only be divided into six instead of seven as what dean has decided. So i chatted dean (pic below). I just accepted the role half-heartedly.

As leaders, we should be hiring people for our team and we should make pubs. I dont have a canva account to help me do pubs. I made mine at MS ppt HAHAHAHAHAHA but im good so its cute. We were assigned with projects and i get to have the 4-member team. The vacant roles were project maven and liaison officer for a 3-member team. In my pubs, i included scrummaster as position to be filled, cause who am i to lead?! So yeah, that's it. I did the pubs Wednesday and I submitted my resume Thursday (third to the last hahahaha but my resume's cute hahaha).

Thursday. So i had this invite by a classmate to join the Shell event long time ago. He was reaching out for someone to ask Dean for his approval because Dean did not replied to the email he sent. So, i volunteered. I really want this competition cause this will be my first and maybe last competition as a UP student. So i DMed dean and blah blah blah he asked for selection process. I relayed the message and apologize to them for being me because i was thinking that it was me who made him come up with the decision of having the team be selected. Like, wtf i was just asking for his approval. Getting kicked out of the team was not my intention. Those whom i chatted that night were telling me that it wasn't my fault blah blah blah. So i half-heartedly agreed to them.

Friday came, yesterday, the interview. I am very anxious for someone who will be the one asking the applicants lmao. I already have been interviewed before for college applications and somehow remember the feeling, nerve wracking, whatever. To calm my nerves, i listed questions which i never got to ask properly btw, but at least i have concrete ideas on what to ask. The first interviewee was my very closed friend and so we just laugh and laugh and laugh HAHAHAHAHA. IDK if dean saw it but who cares. And the next and next and next. 3:30 passed by fast and guess what??? YOUR BASIC GUY HAS THE MOST NUMBER OF APPLICANTS TO THE POINT THAT DEAN CUT MY LIST. IT WAS EXHAUSTING BUT VERY FLATTERING. I FEEL SO HONORED. i really thought and very scared at the thought that no one will apply to me but wtf, just wtf. Ranking my applicants was damn hard. 1 i have a dream team but one was cut by dean; 2 this could make my friends mad; 3 this will be the group for the whole year; 4 i am really exhausted. But still, i submitted the list. I was hoping for the people i chose to choose me back. Only two out of three did, i am forever grateful.

Still on Friday, the classmate who invited me to the Shell thing and Dean had a zoom call and discussed about the competition. That classmate told dean what i told him the other day that i might be the reason for the decision of having the selection process done. He told me this through a voice memo, katamad daw magtype. A voice message that i played over and over again. Dean actually find me interesting (?), Invested (?) Idk exactly but the classmate told me na 'may nakikita daw talaga sya sayo. Na grabe ka ka-practical as a person like yung ideas mo daw sa plant design napakasimple lang pero napaka practical to the point daw na madami nag apply sayo kanina. And then, you need more confidence lang daw talaga' so ig, you basic guy is a practical guy now. It's just flattering.

Now, whatever happens, i must meet those expectations right? This could be a lousy motivation but what is if there's none? I dont know why im writing this. I just thought i should get my thoughts out. Ver 2.0? Turning point? Let's just do good 😌

PS I put this on my bio on FB, guess im getting more public, and if you happened to read this because you saw the link on my bio, send me a message about you thoughts.

PPS if your initials are JTZC, these have been my week and i miss you even though you're not interested in me anymore, you are hard to forget

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floatingbook · 3 years

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I recently found your blog and im in love with your writings. I guess I just needed to went about this. Anyway theres this female youtuber that I watched for a long time now. She makes good animal content and is an ornithologist. Her style of content is also right up my alley. (1)

But the thing is shes homophobic. I knew this for a while now but on one of her recent streams she explicitly stated how disgusted she found gay people using very popular homophobic slurs in our language (not English). And like I dont hate her or whatever. I like her content and even her personality vice. she herself is gnc in her style and is not married. she gets a ton of comments from men telling her how weird it is and she addressed it in multiple videos saying how stupid she finds it (2)

but like this whole thing makes it difficult to just enjoy bird and lizard videos lol. recently we also got a new professor at my Uni. and while she considers herself tolerant she said quite a few. homophobic things as well. like she said she'd kill her son if he was gay, jokingly. but whats funny in that? anyway I talked about this with my groupmate whos lesbian and she told me she hated this but tries to not pay attention to it. she thinks its best to just ignore it.(3)

and like I think shes right. we cant change anything about this, our country is very homophobic. so why pay attention to it? Im secure in myself anyway. but its still so difficult to just not thing about it and enjoy everything else.have you ever dealt with similar feelings? how did you cope with them? sorry for long message. im also a lesbian if it matters. (4)

No need to apologise for the length of your message, sister! I’m sorry you’ve had to face this; but which lesbian, sadly, doesn’t? It’s all too common for us to be faced with this kind of non-physically-harmful homophobia. And at first glance, we tend to discount it, yes. After all, we are “secure in [our]selves”, we know there’s nothing wrong with being lesbians, that we’re not ill or cursed or whatever nonsense. In the long run, and although it doesn’t do the same kind of damage as homophobic physical harm, I think it’s more worrying. Especially because it appears so harmless at first, such a matter of personal opinion — we can’t really change the way these people think, they’re always going to harbour those kinds of thoughts.

But even if you’re a proud lesbian and fine with yourself, it still makes you internalise the fact that homosexuality is somehow wrong. Of course being regularly exposed to that kind of ideas, of content, is going to affect your wellbeing. Even if it’s “just” a passing remark from a youtuber, or a “joke” from a university teacher, or an aunt sharing a bigoted stereotype about homosexuality, or a random individual being interviewed on TV during a conservative march, or a priest mentioning once in a while how you’re going to end up burning in hell just for existing. These comments can lead us to feel terrible about ourselves, straight into self-hatred. They also, whether we like it or not, create a hostile climate for us. It’s not healthy to exist in an environment where you know that people despise or outright hate you, even if they don’t know that you specifically are a lesbian. You’re always going to be wondering how your teacher would treat you if she somehow found out. Would she lower your grades? Would there be any kind of retaliation? For every homophobe who makes homophobic jokes or share any other type of homophobic position, there’s always the worry of escalation to physical harm. As a result, you’re always, even if not completely consciously, on the lookout.

I think the best thing to do with these people is to cut them out whenever possible. I know that you like that youtuber’s content, but you’re always going to be wondering in a corner of your mind “when is she going to be homophobic again”. I’m sure you can find other women talking about that kind of subject, and if not on youtube maybe in podcasts, in documentaries, or on blogs. It’s eminently frustrating to loose a source of information and entertainment, but you also have to take care of yourself, and sometimes that means removing homophobes from your life. Here, a reminder that it’s not your job to cure them of their homophobia. You don’t have to put up with them. Much in the same way that women don’t have to waste their time explaining to men how we are human beings deserving of rights and dignity and a life free of oppression too.

In the case of your uni teacher, you can’t do a lot but bear through it. It’s good that you’re not alone; support your fellow lesbian, and make sure that you don’t let the hate, however how casual, get you down. I don’t think it’s about “ignoring” it as much as not letting either despair or rage take up too much space. It’s normal to feel depressed that homophobia is so widespread, but you can try to balance it out with the knowledge, shared by many of your fellow lesbians, that being a lesbian is perfectly normal and even wonderful. Same for anger at the homophobia, it’s perfectly normal in the face of bigotry and hatred, but please make sure that you use your anger as fuel for positive action and don’t just let it simmer and fester into giving up and depression and helplessness.

We don’t have to be resigned to the homophobia. You can sensibilise your friends to the problem, and hopefully find people who’ll embrace you for who you are. You can move to less homophobic places; you can create lesbians clubs, gatherings or communities; if you are determined and want to play the game and work within the rules of the system, you can lobby and agitate for reforms to law to make your country less homophobic. We don’t have to tolerate homophobic people. There are some things on which we can refuse to compromise.

(same anon who wrote about female youtuber)also Goddammit these straight anons are so ridiculous. sorry for my language. how can they not see their privilege? literally the entire fucking world is telling you that relationships with men are good and pure and "correct" and you DARE to come to a LESBIANS blog and whine about a tiny group of lesbian women who tell you that maybe men aren't the end all be all im just so sorry for their stupidity sis.. crazy you still have to deal with this shit :/

I’m used to it, not that it’s pleasant, but yes, sometimes it’s baffling how little reading comprehension and self-awareness some people exhibit on here (and out there in the world). I hope you have a very pleasant week, anonymous sister, and that your lesbian friend does as well ;)

#anonymous #answered #thanks for the support sister #i hope you face less homophobia going forward #i wish the world was a better place #cue sad weary face #we can never catch a break #lesbophobia #homophobia

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moonscarsandstars · 4 years

Note

How do u think james asked sirius to be his best man?

thanks for the prompt @just-a-teen-fangirl!! this really made me think, but i loved this prompt! (sorry this ended up being so long i loved it lmao).

-it’s also worth mentioning that the last scene was based off of jk rowling’s draft but i just transformed the ending and made it my own.

~~~

Lily broke apart from the kiss.

"James?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you noticed that Sirius seems a little- I don't know- left out?"

"What?" James stopped fiddling with her button, and met her eyes.

"I just mean, ever since you proposed, you two've been spending less time together.”

“I don’t think he cares, Lils, he’s got Moony,” said James, pressing kisses against her collar bone.

Lily bit her lip. “It’s not the same, though, is it? They’re dating, but you two- you two are brothers.”

“What about all the muggle hospitals he’d come to with us? He’s been more involved with the sprog than I have.”

“I know, but that’s different, isn’t it? When was the last time you two spent time alone, or as friends, you know what I mean?”

“Well, if he’d been feeling left out, wouldn’t he have said something?”

“Really? And you call yourself brothers?”

James looked up confused. “What?”

“Remember when he-” she paused. “Remember when he ran away? You said he kept thinking he was a burden on your family.”

James nodded his head sadly at the memory. “Yeah, he did, didn’t he?”

“Maybe, deep down, he still feels it.”

His eyes filled with worry. “Shit.”

“Didn’t he want to have drinks with you the other day?”

“Yeah, he did, but you were feeling unwell.”

“I know, but that doesn’t really...”

“Excuse it, does it?”

“And he invited me to meet up with him last weekend,” said James his eyes growing wide and dragging his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, Lily, I’m a horrible brother, aren’t I?”

“Not horrible- you’ve been preoccupied, that’s understandable” she said with a small kiss and smile. “But you’ll need to make it up to him.”

“Yeah, I do...” he trailed off. “What about today?”

“Today’s fine, I don’t have anything, and I’m feeling well.”

“Okay, that’s a good idea,” James said, pulling his wand out of his back pocket, conjuring a patronus, and watching as it leaped gracefully out of the house.

“What would I do without you, Lils?” James pulled her into a heavy kiss, and let his hand travel down her curves. Lily embraced it, then pulled apart.

“Struggle,” she said with a wink and a smirk.

~~~

James shuffled his feet, and hesitated before ringing Sirius’s floors’ doorbell.

It was barely moments later that the door opened with a ‘click’, and Sirius’s grinning face appeared at the doorway.

“She finally had it with you?”

James could feel the familiar excitement that used to fill him when he spotted Sirius on the platform, or had a joint detention. He never realised how much he missed the feeling.

“You wish. You just miss me.”

James thought he saw something flicker in his eyes, before Sirius let his arms flail wildly by his side.

“Of course I do! What would I do without my other half? My deer brother? The stag-nant to my wild life, the-”

“The bark to your tree-”

“That wasn’t even clever. You’re slipping. Domestic life suiting you too much?”

“’Domestic,’ my ass. She screams at me if I use her spoon. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to tell the difference.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Thank Merlin I’m not going to get Moony pregnant.”

“Can I marry him instead?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but he’d jump off a cliff before marrying you.”

“He’d jump off a cliff before marrying either of us mate.”

“Touché,” drawled Sirius with a smirk. It really sunk for James- how much he’d missed his brother, and he promptly wrapped his arms around Sirius, pulling him in a tight hug.

Sirius was confused at first, but slowly hugged James back.

“I really missed you,” mumbled James with a thick voice.

Sirius didn’t know if he could trust his voice not to break, so he nodded against James’s arms.

It seemed like years til they broke apart, and any awkwardness had been washed away. It felt... normal again. James loved that. The spark was back in Sirius’s eyes- the same always shining when he had a new prank idea.

“Oh fuck- did I not tell you? I’m almost done with Elvendork!”

“You are?!” James’s eyes lit up, and he rushed inside the house, followed closely by an equally excited Sirius.

“They’re in the living room!” Sirius ran excitedly with James, both gazing in awe as their eyes caught on to the polished motorbike parked in the middle of the living room.

Remus was lying tiredly on the sofa, book in hand. He only just spotted James, over the pile of blankets he was wrapped up in.

“Shi- hi Prongs,” he said weakly, trying to climb up, and hissing in pain.

“Fuck, Moony, you okay?” James neared Remus, who was struggling a little with his arm.

“Broke my wrist- Sirius fixed it,” he muttered, more to himself. “How’s Lily?”

It was clear in his eyes he wanted to change the topic, so James let a large grin take over his face.

“We went to the muggle healers, and they can see him on the black and white thingy! He’s so tiny- I can’t believe it!”

“Have the doctors tried to kick you out yet?” Asked Remus with a small, smile.

“I’m pretty sure one of them tried to, but I confunded ‘im,” said James proudly.

“Poor kid. D’you have any names?”

“Fuck,” James whispered slowly, his eyes growing wide. “What do we name the kid?!”

“Prongs junior, of course,” drawled Sirius with a grin.

“That’s a death wish,” interjected Remus.

“I always thought Sirius James Potter rang really nicely,” started Sirius, putting on an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression.

“I’d rather name the sprog ‘Elvendork.’“

“Genius idea, Prongs. Elvendork Potter,” said Remus, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “The kid’d kill you.”

“Lily wanted something short and sweet, I remember...” said James, trailing off.

“Why not another flower?”

“Don’t think Lily’d be a fan of that.”

“Family member or something?”

“I’m not too sure if I want him to be-” James stepped up on the sofa at Remus’s feet- “Henry the II, heir to James Fleamont- was that a chuckle?!”

Remus covered a snort with a cough- none too discretely, grinning back up at James who’d taken his wand out.

“Contravia!” He exclaimed dramatically, and Remus’s hair promptly turned bright green.

“What the-” Remus let his fingers travel through his hair, pulling the curls that fell in front of his eyes. “You’re done for! You just wait til my wrist-”

“I DID IT!”

Remus flinched, and James almost fell off the sofa. Sirius looked excitedly at the two terrified faces.

“I did it! I finished Elvendork! They’re completely done!”

“You serious mate?” James’s face lit up, and he jumped off the bed to Sirius’s side, touching the bike, and making sounds that could be considered obscene.

“Yep. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? So fucking proud of my child- I’ll bet they’re better than your fry’ll ever be.”

“Oh just you fucking wait.”

“Want to take it for a test drive?”

“Sure, but Moony?”

“No, I’m great,” chuckled Remus, flipping open his book. “Maybe I’ll get a piece of mind.”

James’s concerned gaze lingered til he was sure, and turned into a grin returned by Sirius, who rolled up his sleeves.

~~~

“Okay, so I think if I just pulled this back, and I press this button-”

“Do you actually know how to drive the bloody thing?”

Sirius looked up from the buttons and glared at James. “Elvendork is not a thing. I will not have you objectifying my baby!”

“Does that mean you’re riding the baby?”

Sirius blushed hard, and swallowed. “I- fine. Elvendork-”

Suddenly, the bike made a large, roaring sound that vibrated through both of them.

“It- it works,” stammered Sirius happily.

“What’re you waiting for?” Asked James excitedly.

The feeling of being propelled through the air was refreshing, like he was on a broom but couldn’t fly. The air whipped through his hair, and he gripped the back of the seat tightly, feeling his knuckles go numb.

“You want to go faster?” Sirius voice was barely comprehensible against the screaming winds.

“Fuck yeah!”

Suddenly, they were blaring through streets quicker than James could see. The wind was screaming louder, and he had to whip out his wand to charm his glasses in place. His skin was standing on end, and the same feeling he got when flying was there in his chest.

Street after alley were passing by, and James could barely tell what part of London they were in- hell if they were even in London.

James could barely hear Sirius’s screams of joy (or mania), but when a blaring alarm started getting louder and louder, James couldn’t help furrowing his eyebrows.

He looked behind over his shoulder to see a muggle police car with blinding lights rushing behind him.

“HEY! PADFOOT! LOOK- IT’S THE MUGGLE AUROR-POLICE PEOPLE!”

“REALLY?” Sirius looked over his shoulder, almost turning around in his seat.

“WAIT- NO DON’T TURN AROUND- I TAKE THAT BACK!” Screamed James panicked as they swerved into an alley and just managed to miss the wall.

James’s head spun a little, and he could still feel the wind flying at him.

In front of them, in this tight, dingy alley, was a police car that only just managed to fit, and two policemen inside that looked livid. James found it hilarious. especially the resemblance between Slughorn and the large one on the left.

James bit his lip, and exchanged a grin with a Sirius as he watched the two policemen scrape their bodies against the walls in an attempt to get out of the car.

The first one- balding head, double chin; exactly like Slughorn- pointed a thick finger at both of them.

“You two boys!” He screamed in a wheezy voice. “Get off the bike, now! Failing to stop for the police, on an unlicensed bike-”

Were muggle aurors this pathetic? James exchanged an amused glance with Sirius. It seemed so.

“-and failing to stop for the police!”

“You see,” started James in what sounded like a genuinely concerned voice. “We’d love to stay and chat, but we have happenings to get to-”

“Don’t you dare try act smart with me! I’ll have you know, you two are in a bloody ton of trouble,” snarled the other officer. He was much shorter, almost like a leprechaun. James laughed at the thought.

“Think it’s funny, do you? Names?!”

“Oh!” Exclaimed Sirius in a very enthusiastic voice. ��Funny, sir, you see we were just thinking about names earlier this evening! My dear brother here is expec-”

“Names?!”

“Rude,” said James, pulling a frown.

“Well, let’s see, we have Wilberforce,” Sirius cast a thoughtful look at James, who nodded wistfully.

“Bathsheba!”

“My dear Elvendork-”

“And you can use it for any gender! It’s unisex!”

James and Sirius bit back a grin at the officers’ faces, which were growing furiously red.

“Are you okay there, officer?” Asked Sirius.

“You seem awfully red, might it be the sun?”

“THAT’S IT!” He roared. “The both of you- “ he pointed a shaking finger at them. “In my car- now!”

“Wait, you mean our names?”

“Oh, why of course he did!” Cried James, throwing a look at Sirius that would have anyone else burst out in laughter.

“Sirius. Sirius Black-”

“You’re being serious!?”

“I’m always Sirius!”

“Thing’s ‘re going to be seriously black for you-”

“Bloody hell, James, even I didn’t think of that!”

“Really, sir, you’re a pioneer in puns, truly.”

“Deserve a place in the hall of fame-”

“Maybe the nobel prize if we’re lucky-”

“The lottery would be merciful-”

“SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTHS UP NOW! I’M ARRESTING YOU ON CHARGES OF-”

But before James could hear what charges, Sirius had whipped out his wand, and muttered an inaudible phrase. The engine revved loudly, it must’ve been heard from a mile away.

Suddenly, James could feel his feet lift from the air, and the same feeling in his stomach that he got on his broomstick. Watching as the officer’s jaw dropped, James let a shocked grin take over his face.

The bike was tugged from the air, and broke speed. Sirius revved the engine again- they were flying higher than the buildings now- he rode the motorcycle right above their heads.

“See ya lads!”

“’Twas a pleasure to meet you!”

And they left the dark alley in uncontrollable chortles. Both holding on to their stomachs and the bike for dear life.

Sirius wiped a tear away, and James let a wailing sound escape him. He gripped the seat tightly as the bike flew upwards, into the clouds.

The night sky was so much cleared above the clouds, like a painting down to every detail. Fluffy clouds spread widely like a blanket beneath them, and the hair strand of a moon was barely sparkling in the dark sky above. Wind was weaving through his strands of hair, and his fingers felt numb as they sifted through the cold air.

“Fuck, Pads, I can’t believe it. This is beautiful.” Lily would love it.

“Oh Merlin, I know.” Remus would love this too.

“Pads?” James asked hazily, in heavy awe of the sky. “Will you marry me?”

“What the fuck?”

James snapped out of his daze, and couldn’t help a rising groan that escaped him. “Fuck- I did not mean that.”

“Unfortunate. I’d make a dazzling bride, with the braids and all,” said Sirius in a smooth voice and a barely covered snort.

“Sure you would, but Lily’d look better,” said James with a grin.

“How dare you! Challenge my own radiant beauty that-”

“Okay, okay, Lily wouldn’t look as good as you, i promise.”

“Thank you,” said Sirius stiffly.

There was a fond silence. James didn’t need to look to know that they were both smiling.

“In all seriousness-” Sirius snorted again. “-Will you be my best man?”

The bike stopped whizzing, and James fell against Sirius’s back with an ungraceful “umphh.”

“Di- what did- what?” Asked Sirius nervously.

“Will you be my best man? At our wedding? Lily and I’s- that is.”

“I- I- you- you want me to be the- best man at your wedding?”

Sirius had turned around in the seat, now facing James with glassy eyes filled with gratitude.

“Yeah,” said James with a small smile. “I want you to be my best man.”

Without warning, Sirius’s arms were tightly wrapped around James, who was hugging Sirius tightly, like he’d never want to let go. A warm feeling in his chest appeared, one which he wanted to stay forever.

56 notes · View notes

albapuella · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D

Day 1:

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

---

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

---

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

---

* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?

Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat

Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.

Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

---

Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS

Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience.

The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.

The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

---

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her.

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly.

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally.

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture.

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

---

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally).

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake.

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning.

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.”

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could.

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should.

He stayed where he was.

---

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too.

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals.

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

---

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them.

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him.

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

---

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic.

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time.

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

---

* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink? Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower???

#Homestuck #Humanstuck #fan fic #my fic #wip

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roseamongroses · 4 years

Text

Antithesis: “what do you have? “ I have a kNIFE” “NO”

[Specific-Summary]: They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn't mean it'll always hurt, nor does it mean they can't have fun along the way. It's senior year. Everything may be different. It won't be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking,

[Tags/mood:] highschool au, fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously)

(8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

(16) (17) (18)

L: I May Have Lost Roman

V: nice

P: not nice :)

V: i feel vaguely threatened

Rem:@L how the fuck did you manage that Rem: nvm i know how just give me details

L:I don’t know ? One second we were at check out L: Next minute he was Gone and Nieve is looking suspicious

L:Hold on lemme ask Dmitri

V: why is he there

L: I mean he’s actually pretty chill L: But he dropped Roman off and Nieve got attached L:I’m...not sure if she’s planning on letting him go?

V:logan, my friend, my buddy, V:the only person in this chat with basic reading comprehension

Rem: that’s pretty fair

P: it really is tbh

V: Send. Pictures.

L: Okay L: Slight Issue

V: you lost the snake too

L: I lost Dmitri too and Nieve is not spilling

Rem: oh they’re defeinately fucking

L:...Where? The bathroom?

Rem: Don’t knock it till you try it ;)

V: not to be that guy but im vetoing this discussion V: cause thats a Yikes even for you Remy

L: Alright time to find them

Rem: check ;))) the;))) bathrooms ;;))))

L: Remy.

Rem: alrighlright too far ill stop

L: Thank you.

V: keep me updated V: i only have silence and physics homework as company

L:Huh L:Found them

L: Roman….found a katanna…

V: im sorry WHAT V: Why The Fuck Does He Have A Sword

Rem: drop the location of that store man

L: 1) It’s a Katanna L: 2)I will certainly Not. L: 3) He’s trying to convince Dmitri why he should have it

L…..and Dmitri looks more amused then concerned

V: if I can't have a tarantula he sure as hell cant have a sword

L:I told him it was probably fake/ poorly made and that he should take the time to invest the proper skill in money in a real one

V: goddamit logan you cant logic roman.

L: It worked. He put it back. L: So I say I can do what I want with roman

Rem: some spicy takes from the chats only brain cell ;)

---

“So you’re turning eighteen, in a few months. ” His aunt said, dabbing her cheeks with a napkin. She still managed to hold an air of prestige despite getting utterly shitfaced the night before. Her appointments have been going well.

Dmitri looked up, masking his surprise and holding his tongue.

Dr. Montag looked over, quieting the running water and placing the dish was he was cleaning down, “Really?” he said, brushing his hands, “You got any plans?” he asked, Dmitri.

“Oh we usually do something small,” His aunt interjected, “But seeing as he’s my father’s favorite grandchild,” Only grandchild, “He’s is flying from Paris to join us. And he was never a man of modesty so I’ve been thinking about doing something special for the occasion.”

Oh.

Dmitri fought the smile creeping on his face, ducking his head. He shouldn’t be surprised that she remembered after all if his grandfather was visiting. It’s how he got his phone, laptop, his car.

It’s probably why she puts up with him, to begin with. Cause it wasn’t guilt.

“--We should get your hair cut,” She continued, and Dmitri snapped out of his thoughts, “Maybe invite Diana--he’d like her,” she murmured.

“Diana and I a-” He closed his mouth, and his aunt’s eyes shot over.

“You broke up?” She narrowed her eyes, examining her nails, “Huh, makes sense seeing as...” she gestured at him vaguely, “So who have you been sneaking around with?”

“I’m not sneaking around with anyone,” Dmitri said, meeting her gaze. And technically he was right, it’s not sneaking if she just hasn’t been asking. And he’s given up on telling.

Dr. Montag’s eyebrows knitted together confused,” Well that isn’t true,”

Dmitri’s eyes went wide, stomach sinking.

His Aunt’s grin spread, “Oh really?”

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck--

“He’s been helping me out, hon,” Dr. Montag set down a glass of water and pills beside her plate, “You’ve been so stressed lately,” he looked guilty and produced some tickets, “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Her face softened and like that the tension left the room. Those two got to linger in whatever lovey-dovey spell had taken hold of them in the last few months, but Dmitri was still on edge.

She still kept him on edge, but he could get her back. Even the playing field. Anytime he could leave this—Anytime he could flip this switch and put her on edge and make her—

He stopped eating, setting his plate aside.

He felt sick.

---

R:helllloooo R:anyone up R: sigh R: allll by mySELLLLF

L: Roman?

R: the one and lonely yes hello human contact???

L: Are you alright? It’s 3 am why are you still awake?

R: why are YOU up mm????

L: My parents have newborn twins. What’s your excuse?

R: well fuck got me there

R: i was texting dee but he was rlly tired and i stILL can’t sleep

L: Any particular reason?

R: u m

L: Private chat?

R: please

- [TheTruthAboutTheMoon]

TheWalkingMouth: Okay shoot

Cowboy:it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: I’ll tell you if it's stupid or not just say it

Cowboy: i just….like Cowboy: it's all kinda….hitting me a ll at once and i Really don’t like thinking about it but i cant bottle shit up either like you bastards so i feel like the human equivelent og a washing machine with too much laundry in it

TheWalkingMouth: Then don’t? TheWalkingMouth: Even if it's too ‘stupid’ for me I’m sure Dmitri wouldn’t mind

Cowboy: yeah but i feel like im going to say something shitty to him i Cowboy: like we should talk about it Cowboy: and i will Cowboy: but not now--later when it's not too stressful for either of us

TheWalkingMouth: Why would you say something shitty?

Cowboy: idk id jst get frustrated trying to explain it Cowboy: like hes smart as hell and probbaly get it without me saying anything but like Cowboy: I have neither the patience nor articulation right now to explain like a civil person and he doesnt need me being shitty about it

Cowboy:like,,,,,for example,,,,, if he fucks up in school, he’ll get recommended a tutor and teachers would assume hes doing his best and hes such a sweet and quiet boy

Cowboy: like he is sweet!!but hes a little shit too!! And gets away with it!!! Half those pranks he pulled on virgil, as Iconic as they were he never got in trouble for them!!!

Cowboy: when i fuck up i

Cowboy: god it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: Might not get a second chance? Yeah I get it.

TheWalkingMouth:Remember when I first transferred here? None of the teachers would take me seriously bc of my accent and if they did, they were afraid of me. I could repeat something another kid said word for word and still be told I had an attitude.

Cowboy: god i remembered that Cowboy: you answered his yes or no questions in a fuckin montone, quiet ass voice and he legit called in the office cause he got scared of a goddamn freshman

Cowboy: But ye when i fuck up Cowboy: im suddenly the lazy ass brown kid who should spend less time corrupting youth with my feminine hips and curls Cowboy: like it's not like a lot of them say it outright but it feels like if im not perfect im fufilling all the stereotypes

TheWalkingMouth: Ah okay, rant away

Cowboy: OK like like like im not like virgil right?? in a lot of ways and it fuckin shows

Cowboy: he’s been planning on going into engineering since sixth grade meanwhile i only got my shit together in highschool

Cowboy: and like now that im here/???what now??? My mother expects me to have my shit together meanwhile im over here freaking the fuck out over whether not it's worth it to even try Cowboy: like yes mother i want to go to an art/or librel arts school that may or may not accept me that we may or may not afford to find a career in who the hell knows because if i have to sit in a healthcare class or a applied mathmatics class like you did i miight actually shank the professor????

Cowboy: that i dread the thought of not trying to explore my options outside of this fucking state but i dread the thought of going bc i cant stand the thought of being away from home but i cant fucking find a reason to stay cause everyone i love is leaving or planning their own life anyway???

Cowboy: like remys gunna fuck off to who knows where regardless of whether or not he has a plans or money, pattons gunna take care of his grandmother whereever the fuck a canada ,moms moving in with tia, virgils already mentally flipping me off ready to fuck nasa , and i only fucking hope dmitri even getss the chance to choose where he goes but hes g o n e and i die from yearning behind a screen like the gay victorian i am , and you….i actually dont know

TheWalkingMouth: Teaching for either biology or physics

Cowboy: huh it fits but what about chemistry??

TheWalkingMouth: Fuck chemistry.

Cowboy: oh thank god we’re on the same page

TheWalkingMouth: Anyway, I assume you’re more worried about whether you should apply rather then if you could get in?

Cowboy: i think so

TheWalkingMouth: Well if my opinion means anything to you

Cowboy: more than you’re assuming but yeah continue

TheWalkinMouth: Wait

Cowboy: nothing nothing continue

TheWalkingMouth: Okay-- I think you should go for it but you don’t need to dive head first into it and commit to everything 100% like virgil did.

TheWalkingMouth: You’re allowed to keep your options open, to have backup plans for back up plans

TheWalkingMouth: It doesn’t mean you’re not passionate about your art. Doesn’t mean you’re inevitably going to get a office job and abandon all your dreams. It means you’re being smart and not backing yourself into a corner

TheWalkingMouth:It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay not to have it all figured out

TheWalkingMouth: Nobody does.

TheWalkingMouth: Even if no one else gives you a second chance at least give yourself a second chance.

TheWalkingMouth: It’s perfectly normal to be afraid to fuck up and get fucked over TheWalkingMouth: That doesn’t mean you will everytime TheWalkingMouth: And it certainly doesn’t mean it's the end

Cowboy:

[...Cowboy is typing…]

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

#Roman sanders #Deceit Sanders #Roceit #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts virgil #ts logan #ts remy #Antithesis

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