one of the things about having an unstable parent is that it can so easily ruin your future. you want to get out, but getting out takes having agency. it takes the resume and the grades and the stellar community service history.
but you have to choose your battles. you know if you sign up for an after-school activity, it'll be okay for a while, so long as the activity is parent-approved and god-fearing. over time, like all things, it will become an argument (i can't keep carting your ass to these things) or a weapon (talk to me like that again, see if you get to go to practice). sometimes, if you love the thing, it's worth it. but you also know better than to love something: that's how they get you. if you ever actually want something, it will always be the center of their attention. they will never stop threatening you with it. telling you of course i'm a good parent, i came to all of those stupid events.
you learn to balance yourself perfectly. you can either have a social life or you can have hobbies. both of these things will be under constant scrutiny. you spend too much time with her, you should be at home with family is equally paired with you're acting like this because you're addicted to what's on that goddamn screen. you cannot ever actually win, so everything falls within a barter system that you calculate before entering: do you want to learn how to drive? if so, you'll need to give up asking for a new laptop, even though yours died. maybe you can work on a computer at the library. of course, that would mean you'd be allowed to go to the library, which would mean something else has to bleed. nothing ever actually comes free.
and that bitter, horrible irony: you could be literally following their orders and it still isn't pretty. they tell you to get a job; they hate that your job keeps you late and gives you access to actual money. they tell you to do better in school; they say no child of mine needs a tutor. they want you to stop being so morose, don't you know there are people who are really suffering - but they revile the idea you might actually need therapy.
you didn't survive that fall the way other people would. you've seen other people scramble and get their way out, however they could. maybe you were made too-soft: the answer didn't come to you easily. it wasn't quick. it was brutal and nasty. some people even asked you why didn't you just work hard and escape during school? and you felt your head spinning. why didn't you? (they control your financial aid. they control your loan status. they love having that kind of thing). maybe in another life you got diagnosed sooner and got the meds you needed to actually focus and got attention from the right teachers who helped you clear hurdles to get up out of here - but for now? here?
the effort of trying. the effort of not-dying. that kind of effort was absolutely agonizing.
2K notes
·
View notes
WIP SNIPPETS!
HELLO i want to prove that i actually AM working on stuff (actually because i need to share things or i will explode) SO here are some sneak peeks for the three whole wips i've been cooking lately!!!!
Chapter 3 of Familiar Faces
(some context: "Papyrus" is Stretch, "Red-Papyrus" is Edge, they don't have their nicknames yet </3)
“Who designed all these, anyway?” Russ asked, squinting a bit as he poked at a powered-off laser. “I know a Papyrus wouldn’t come up with a display like this.”
“They’re mostly old puzzles from back when those were still a big thing,” Papyrus said. “We’ve been too busy to make new ones, and we’re still trying to get rid of all the solutions-”
“Oh, these are ancient!” Russ groaned, rubbing his hands down his face like it was the worst thing he’d heard all day. “Okay, okay, good news! You have us here now! We will amend this!”
“You really don’t gotta-”
“If we don’t it will be an affront to traps everywhere!” He looked through the toolbox they’d brought along. “We’ll need some more tools, but… Hey, Papyrus?”
“What?” Papyrus and Red-Papyrus said simultaneously. They squinted at each other.
“That one, sorry,” Russ clarified, pointing to Red-Papyrus. “You know what we’re looking for, right? Do you think you can dig around and find anything like that?”
“...Yes,” Red-Papyrus said somewhat reluctantly, backing off from where he was inspecting a rusty saw blade. “Blueprint paper, flamethrowers, scrap?”
“Right on the money!” He snapped his fingers into a gun shape. “Also some power tools, bigger wrenches, maybe some gasoline… And, whatever else you come across, I suppose!”
“I can grab that stuff if you want,” Papyrus offered, fairly certain he’d know where to find it better than someone who’d allegedly only been in this universe for a day.
“Nonsense! I need to show you how to bring these hunks of junk to their full potential!” Russ said, grinning as he raised a hammer that was far too big for the toolbox he’d pulled it from. “We’ll start with some percussive maintenance!”
mourning the loss of the horizontal line in the text editor-------------------
Something's Wrong With This Guy (WORKING TITLE LOL)
(Context: Edge's perspective, takes place before meeting Stretch)
“Russ?” He called out. “God dammit, Russ, where did you go?”
He scanned the area for even a hint of where Russ had run off to, but he could hardly see a thing. Maybe he was being smart for once, hiding in a bush somewhere. He wasn’t in any state to fight. He’d sooner topple over before he could get a word out.
There was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. If he was hiding, answering would give him away.
Unfortunately, that was just as likely as if he were already dead.
He finally caught another glimpse of the attacker, sending another round of attacks their way with a renewed fury. No matter what had happened, he’d make sure he dealt with it appropriately.
Right as his first round ended, he rushed in close, forgoing his magic just to pin them against the ground. He held them there by the neck, rearing back his fist.
Then, finally, he saw Russ, grinning up at him and cutting through the thick fog of adrenaline like a knife.
He shoved himself off, his anger dissipating just as quickly as it had arrived.
“Aww, but it was just getting fun!” Russ complained, pulling himself out of the snow and brushing himself off. “I had a suspicion you’ve been holding out on me, but…”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Papyrus shouted. “I could have killed you!”
“Isn’t that what you want?” He pointed out. Papyrus couldn’t find a response. “Besides, I’m fine! That was fun! Come on, let’s keep going, we can-”
“No.”
“But-”
“You are incredibly lucky that both of us are not dead,” Papyrus hissed, gesturing to the open area around them. “I don’t give a damn how much of a death wish you have, but if you want me to have a part in it, I will do so of my own accord. Otherwise, leave me out of it.”
“So… You don’t want to kill me?” Russ asked. Papyrus sputtered, quickly gaining the urge to prove him wrong as a smile grew on his face. “Oh, Papyrus, you’ve grown so much! I’m so proud of you!”
With a swift smack to the back of his skull, Papyrus finally began to drag Russ to the house.
---------------------------
Reboot Part 1: Swapfell (working title)
(Context: Fluff's perspective, his very own introduction fic :'> so proud)
“What the fuck was that,” he growled, not caring to greet the bastard on the other end.
“I asked Alphys to install a plugin on your phone that’d get you to answer it for once,” Sans answered. He could hear the smile on his face. “It only activates after five missed calls, so really you’ve only got yourself to blame for this one.”
“Fuck you.”
“Hey, saves me the trouble of having to run back home to make sure you’re not dead.”
“And what’s so important that you had to wake me up in the most assholeish way possible?”
“I needed to tell you- wait, I woke you up? Papyrus, have you been sleeping all day? It’s seven in the-!”
He hung up.
It took about a minute for the phone to ring again. He snickered, imagining his brother coming down from his tirade just to realize he’d been lecturing a ghost the entire time.
He stared at the screen.
Five calls, huh?
He answered on the fifth, on the very last ring.
“Point taken,” Sans said, resigned. He was probably pinching the bridge of his nose in that way he always did when Papyrus pissed him off. “Look, I just wanted to tell you I’m gonna be working late again, okay? Some stuff came up.”
“Wow, that’s a huge diversion from what you do every single day. Super urgent news for me to know, couldn’t possibly have just texted me that.”
“You regularly make me wonder if you’re even receiving my texts because you never answer them. The only way I even know your phone works is when I ask if you want takeout.”
“Maybe you should learn something from that.”
“I’m not going to bribe you into answering my texts, Papyrus.”
“Don’t be surprised when I don’t answer ‘em then.”
“Papyrus-” Sans started, but cut himself short. Then, he sighed. “...Look, kid, I don’t want to argue with you. I just wanna be able to know you’re alright. I’m sorry it’s annoying, but I can’t– ...I just need to know, okay?”
Papyrus didn’t respond. He clenched his jaw at his brother’s change in tone.
“If you’ve been sleeping all day, then you probably haven’t eaten,” Sans continued. “I’m pretty sure there’s still some leftover stir-fry in the fridge. You should have some. It might be a bit spicy for you, but it’s good food.”
He hummed plainly.
“...Well, that’s all I wanted to say. I gotta get back to work now, but I’ll see you when I see you, yeah?”
His jaw clenched just a bit tighter.
“Love you, kid.”
He hung up again, for real this time.
11 notes
·
View notes