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xgryffinwhore · 3 years

Text

september nights

request: i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.”

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.”

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door, feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you.

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you.

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations.

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed.

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne.

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special.

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again.

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his.

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek.

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers.

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs.

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill denbrough x you #bill denbrough fanfic #IT movie #it fanfiction #it bill #jaeden martell #jaeden lieberher #jaeden wesley #jaeden x reader #jaeden martell x reader #jaeden martell smut #richie tozier #eddiekaspbrak #stanley uris

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kieraelieson · 3 years

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Logic Still Needs Comfort

A fic for @im-a-creepy-cookie as a part of @sanderssidesgiftxchange! I did your touch-starved Logan prompt!

Warnings: detailed sensory issues, joking mention of death

Logan disliked being touched.

It had been known for years. They all knew it. Surprise hugs or claps on the shoulder startled him unpleasantly and even made him upset sometimes. Touching his hand to get his attention made him jump and frown. He himself had compared the experience to having a bug or an animal suddenly landing on him.

And so Roman and Patton learned not to touch him aside from the occasional celebratory high-five. Which was fine. Everyone was fine, and happy.

And then came Virgil. And accepting anxiety as a valuable part of Thomas. Which changed things.

••^*^••

“Hey, um… L?”

Logan turned to see Virgil fidgeting but staring at him with an intent look. “Yes?”

“So, um, well you know I told you how Remus is practically a leech, and there wasn’t any getting away from it, but I’m not saying Patton isn’t great! But just Roman is… Roman, and just, but Patton really is great but I kinda don’t want to get turned into a teddy bear, and you’re all calm, and I’m, well, I’m sort of missing the calm and….” Virgil looked down and huffed out an annoyed sigh. “Oh, this is gonna come out awkward any way I say it. Can I sit next to you? I just wanna play on my phone and maybe stick my legs over your lap or something.”

Logan cocked his head to the side just slightly. “You wish to stick your legs over my lap while sitting next to me? That seems like it would involve terrible posture.”

Virgil gave a little breath of a laugh. “Any way I sit involves bad posture.”

“Actually, occasionally when you sit you replicate what is sometimes called the ‘primal squat’ which is reported to be excellent for your posture.”

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin. “Ok, you got me there. Maybe. But anyway, would you mind? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I’ll head back to my room.”

Logan considered it carefully. It was true that he did not enjoy touch. But this seemed as if it would be relatively calm, and would not require much, if any, reciprocation on his part. “I do not ‘mind’,” he said, utilizing Virgil’s turn of phrase.

He was currently standing, reading a book he had taken from the bookshelf he was standing in front of, and had not yet decided whether to stay with this book or choose another. He quickly pulled out the other two he’d been considering, and tucked all three books under his arm before seating himself on a couch.

It was a pleasant place, the memory library. Calm and quiet, with almost a heaviness to the air that Logan found enjoyable in a way. It was also rather dim, however, at least in this area, where the memories were older, and Logan found it necessary to summon a side table with a lamp on it so that he would have suitable light for reading.

He’d momentarily forgotten about Virgil until the couch cushion dipped beside him. Virgil pulled off his shoes and glanced at Logan.

“You really don’t mind? I mean, I know it’s kind of invasive to your space. You don’t have to say yes.”

Logan nodded. “I am not opposed.”

Virgil very tentatively put one foot up on Logan’s lap, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Logan felt again that sudden unpleasant ‘something touching me’ feeling, but it passed surprisingly quickly, and by the time Virgil had fully settled himself, laying on his back with his knees up over Logan’s lap and his feet on the other side of Logan, the feeling was gone entirely.

Logan propped his book against Virgil’s knees and began to read.

He was a little surprised, when Patton called for dinner, to find that they had been there for close to two hours, and that the unpleasant feeling had never returned. Instead he was feeling warm, and comfortable, more than he had in quite a while. He attributed this to the couch. And perhaps the warmth was a slight raising of Thomas’s core temperature, due to stress at having Anxiety so close to the old memories. Perhaps they ought to have sat down somewhere a little further away.

Regardless, he was about to comment, as they got up, at how pleasant the experience had been. Except that as soon as they both stood up, he found he was suddenly and extremely unpleasantly cold. This alarmed him, and he left without discussing anything with Virgil, concerned that the warmth and sudden cold was a sign of sickness, perhaps only his own but perhaps a symptom that Thomas was sick as well.

He went straight to the miniature control center he’d set up in one corner of his room, pulling up all of Thomas’s vital signs as well as a recording of where he’d gone that day. But everything was normal.

The cold seemed to be fading somewhat, though it was leaving a concerning ache behind. And it seemed to be concentrated on his thighs and forearms, of all places.

Logan looked through his list of sicknesses, sensible and nonsensical, that he had somehow contracted over his life, and found nothing similar. Still, this must be a sickness of some kind. Most likely a nonsensical one, as he hadn’t noted similar symptoms before. Perhaps he would discover some absurd idiom Thomas had latched onto that was causing him to experience physical repercussions. Something similar to ‘brain freeze’ perhaps.

A soft knock at his door caught Logan’s attention.

“Yes?”

“Logan?” Patton’s voice asked. “Are you alright? Virgil told me what happened. He didn’t realize how much you don’t like being touched, and I think he’d like to apologize, but he’s really worried that you’re upset with him.”

“What—“ Logan had left rather abruptly, and without expressing to Virgil that he’d enjoyed their encounter. It was very possible, with Virgil’s anxiety, that he had misinterpreted Logan’s abrupt departure. “Ah. I see.” He waved a hand to open his door. “I am not in the least upset at Virgil. There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, good.” Patton said, concern all over his face. “But you should probably tell Virgil that, and there’s some dinner saved for you yet.”

Logan nodded, the ache in his forearms and thighs rather distracting. “Thank you, Patton.” And then it hit him. If it really were an odd turn of phrase Thomas had attached to, Patton would certainly know it. “Have you happened to notice any interesting phrases recently?”

Patton frowned in confusion, indicating that Logan had changed the subject too rapidly for Patton to keep up. But then he grinned a little. “So today, I saw a baguette in a cage at the zoo!”

And then it was Logan’s turn to be confused for a moment, before he realized. “Ah, I didn’t mean a joke-“

“It was bread in captivity!” Patton smiled brightly, nearly laughing at his own joke.

“Yes, thank you, Patton,” Logan said, allowing the tiniest bit of an amused smile to show.

Even that slight encouragement made Patton beam. “Well, I told Roman that I would watch Disney with him tonight, so I’ll have to go, but don’t forget to talk with Virgil before you eat, and don’t forget to eat either!”

“I won’t forget,” Logan promised, a softer smile showing.

But as soon as Patton left he clapped a hand over his mouth. Why was he so… easily swayed? He prided himself on keeping a straight face, and yet now he’d smiled at Patton’s pun! What was wrong with him?

And now, with Patton leaving the room, it was as if the heat had been sapped. He was again very uncomfortable, aching and cold and he didn’t understand why. Was he perhaps experiencing some strange and extreme form of separation anxiety? It had set in both times as another side had left, though in different ways. But he didn’t feel anxious.

It was all incredibly strange.

But it seemed that Virgil was under a rather upsetting misconception. It could wait. He would speak with Virgil first and then look into this strange sickness further.

Logan crossed the hallway to knock on Virgil’s door.

The door opened almost immediately, Virgil looking as though he’d been waiting on someone to knock, and that Logan had not been the one he’d been expecting, based on the wide eyes and generally startled appearance.

“L, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known, I wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable—“

“Virgil, I assure you, I was perfectly comfortable. I would have expressed discomfort if I needed to.”

Virgil blinked, and the deep black of his eyeshadow faded somewhat. “You aren’t mad?”

“Not at all. I enjoyed the calm company you provided. I left abruptly upon discovering symptoms that indicate possible sickness.”

“Oh.” Virgil was silent a moment, gaze flickering away from Logan as he processed. “Wait, sick? Who’s sick?”

“I may be, though it is odd, and perhaps not a sickness at all.”

“Well, what is it? What’s going on? Are you ok? Is it contagious?”

“I do not know. I am experiencing a strange cold, and aching.”

Virgil’s eyebrows creased in concern. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Logan nodded seriously. “That is why I left, trying to discover what it could be.”

Virgil nodded in an encouraging, ‘go on’ kind of way.

“I haven’t found anything yet, but Patton informed me of the misunderstanding between us and reminded me to eat dinner. I intend to do more research afterwards.”

Virgil nodded. “I could rubber duck for you, if you want. Maybe I could help a bit.”

Logan stared, trying to remember what the phrase was meant to convey before revealing his confusion. He was certain he had it on a flash card somewhere, but he’d left them in his room.

Virgil rather obviously quashed an amused smile. “You tell me what happened, and then we see if we can figure it out together. Repeating the details can help you connect them better sometimes.”

“Ah. Yes. That does seem useful. Thank you.”

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin, pulling up his hood and closing his door behind himself. “So when did you first notice the symptoms?”

Logan explained his symptoms and research to Virgil as they went downstairs and sat down at the table.

“And I still have very little of an idea of why,” Logan admitted. “I believe it possible that it’s another of those idioms that we sometimes experience physically.”

Virgil nodded very slowly. “I actually… might have an idea. I have an experiment I’d like to try, but if I explain it fully it’ll bias you and it probably won’t work.”

“Go ahead,” Logan said, opening the Tupperware container of spaghetti. “What is your experiment?”

Virgil reached one hand across the table. “While you’re eating, give me one hand.”

Logan considered, reaching out to hold Virgil’s hand. “Does this have something to do with checking pulse? You would be able to do that more easily with my wrist than my hand.”

Virgil shook his head. “Just eat, and when you’re done we’ll see how it goes.”

Logan frowned slightly. “Do you believe this has something to do with how recently I’ve eaten? Or that it could be influenced by the focus needed to do something with only one hand?”

Virgil chuckled. “I’ll explain once you’ve eaten.”

Logan was far too curious to wait patiently, and ate quickly, pushing away a not-quite empty container. “What is it?”

“Are you feeling warm again?”

Logan took a moment to assess, and realized that yes. He was feeling warmer. The ache as well was completely gone. “I am. Is it the food?”

Virgil offered a rather sad smile. “Alright, now let go of my hand and tell me what you feel then.”

Logan let go, and almost immediately the cold rushed back. He frowned. “But why? Why do I suddenly seem to have my physical temperature tied to the proximity of you and the other sides?”

His hand ached, and he held Virgil’s again, relieved, but utterly confused when the unpleasant feelings faded.

“I’ve had something like this,” Virgil said. “But not quite the same as yours, based on what Patton was saying. I think you’re probably touch starved.”

Logan considered this silently.

“But I don’t like being touched.”

Virgil gave his hand a slight squeeze. “You don’t seem to mind this.”

Logan nodded, very slowly. “You’re right. I… I don’t mind this at all.”

“I think we should talk to the others,” Virgil suggested.

Logan nodded slowly. “I suppose so.”

••^*^••

“You’re what?!” Patton practically wailed, throwing himself at Logan in a hug.

Immediately Logan felt like he wanted to crawl out his skin. This was miserable. In no way what he wanted. It didn’t feel right at all. It was like a whole hive of insects were buzzing just below his skin.

He pushed Patton off of him, more roughly than he would have intended. “Get off!”

Patton stopped immediately, staring in confusion and hurt.

Logan couldn’t handle it. He was freezing, and his skin was crawling, and his mind seemed filled with static. It was terrible. He just couldn’t.

He barely understood the words directed at him from the other sides as he sank out.

He locked his door and shuddered, hands repeatedly making and releasing fists. He shuddered again, trying to dislodge the crawling feeling. It didn’t leave.

He’d been right, he didn’t like touch. Not at all.

He got into the shower, running the water hot and scrubbing the disgusting feeling away. It helped warm him up as well, which felt way better. He bundled into his bed, pulling the weighted blanket that had been a gift from Virgil over himself.

A while later, finally calm and comfortable, he conjured a note to stick on the door.

I am not upset, but please leave me alone.

••^*^••

Logan spent the next several days figuratively buried in research. He investigated touch starvation as well as touch aversion, and a host of other possible clues to his situation.

He also gradually became more uncomfortable, holed up in his room.

He came to the conclusion that he did, in fact, have a kind of touch starvation, awakened to a roaring hunger by that pleasant afternoon sitting with Virgil.

But he also certainly had an aversion to being touched in certain ways. And he suspected, looking into it more, that surprise was a large factor, as well as the amount of him that was being touched, and perhaps the way in which he was touched.

He was basing this largely on his own reactions to Virgil’s method of touching, as compared to Patton’s or Roman’s, since he highly doubted that it was something inherent in them that he was averse to.

Finally his findings were all put together into one detailed, though as of yet hypothetical, presentation. Armed with this, and a determination not to touch anyone until he’d presented his findings, he opened the door to his room.

As he’d suspected, there was something attached to his door that made a noise as it was opened, and he was soon nearly mobbed with the other sides. They didn’t touch, or come too near, or say anything, but all came very quickly to stare at him, worry in every gaze.

He raised his folder. “I have a presentation. Please gather in the living room.”

It didn’t take long. Not at all.

Logan opened the folder and set it on top of the tv, so that the images could be seen.

“I believe Virgil was correct in suggesting that I have a degree of touch starvation.” He flipped through a few pages, supporting this statement with both facts and personal experiences.

He paused. This was the part that was likely to hurt feelings. Even he knew it, and he wasn’t usually adept at understanding feelings. But it was necessary.

“However, in satisfying this hunger, I will need to be ‘picky’. I have boundaries outlined in this section, and I need to keep them rigidly. This will mean that I will not be open to surprise touch, and likely not to hugs either. I would like to have support from each of you, support in accordance with what I’m capable of handling.”

“Absolutely, Logan,” Patton said. “I’d really like to be able to help you in the right way.”

Both Roman and Virgil nodded very solemnly and enthusiastically.

Logan smiled, more moved by this expression of support than he’d expected to be. “Thank you, Patton. And thank you two as well. I will be very much in need of your assistance.”

He cleared his throat, more in an attempt to gather himself together than any really obstruction. “I’ve laid out a number of methods of touch that I believe would be helpful to me, and arranged them by likelihood of success, and also divided by which I believe each of you would be more inclined to enjoy yourselves.”

••^*^••

Logan was seated on his bed, organizing and updating his flashcards, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” Roman said, peeking in rather shyly. “Um, can we try one of those things now? I brought something to do.”

Logan considered, a slight curl of worry in his stomach. “Yes. I believe now would be a good time.”

Roman fully entered the room. “So I can sit behind you, and do my thing, and I won’t bother you while you do yours.”

Logan smiled slightly. “That sounds pleasant.”

Roman grinned, a bit of pride evident in his expression. He sat behind Logan on the bed, facing away from him, and leaned back slightly, so that they were each leaning against the other.

For about thirty seconds, Logan was uncomfortable, but gradually, warmth spread out through his body, and his mind was able to return its focus to his flashcards, and soon he found he was quite comfortable.

“Hey, specs, what do you call a little tiny shovel? Like the ones for kids. Or I guess not for kids, or not all the time.”

“That would be called a trowel, though perhaps a more recognizable, less correct term would be a spade.”

“Thanks!”

Logan could hear the smile in Roman’s voice, and smiled himself. This was genuinely pleasant.

Even after he had finished with his flashcards, Logan didn’t move. He just soaked in the wonderful warmth, answering whatever questions Roman had, and occasionally listening as Roman gushed about a particular sentence or paragraph he was especially proud of writing.

••^*^••

Logan walked beside Patton, enjoying the false nature of the imagination. He was familiar with much of the flora and fauna, even a decent portion of those entirely invented within Thomas’s mind. And Patton seemed to enjoy Logan’s rambling as much as Logan enjoyed the rambling.

A hand bumped gently against his, and Logan hesitated a moment, before linking his pinky finger with Patton’s.

Patton’s smile grew even brighter. “And you were saying the seeds of that tree are special? What kind of special are they?”

Logan smiled proudly, launching into an explanation. Patton swung their hands back and forth gently as they walked, and Logan felt something within him fill up. He felt pleasantly full, as if there was a cup inside him that had been long empty, and was now trickling over the rim, full enough to even spill.

••^*^••

Logan and Virgil laid out on the roof, looking up at the night sky. They were side by side, with Logan’s left leg tangled up with Virgil’s right.

It was calm. And warm. And peaceful.

In a reverse of the usual pattern, Virgil was the one telling the myth, this time of people who had lifted up the sky.

Logan felt himself drifting off, more comfortable than he could remember being in a very long time. He was figuratively floating on soft, warm clouds. Drifting into a summer night. He was safe, and content. Comfortable.

••^*^••

“Patton,” Logan said slowly.

“Hmm?”

“I would like to attempt a hug.”

Patton turned all his attention to Logan. “You sure?”

Logan nodded. “Yes. Just— slowly. And gently.”

Patton nodded solemnly, reaching his arms out.

Logan slowly leaned into the embrace, and Patton gently wrapped his arms around him.

And it wasn’t bad.

Logan hugged Patton, squeezing lightly before letting go. “Thank you.”

Patton’s eyes were all shimmery, and his smile wobbled. “You’re welcome, Logan!”

••^*^••

The door burst open dramatically and Roman ran in, flopping over the arm of the couch and letting out an even more dramatic groan. Then he peeked his eyes open, and moved to just as dramatically flop onto Logan’s lap.

“I fought dragons.” He announced, his voice a whisper as if he were inches away from death.

Logan, for once, was hit with a burst of mischievousness, and patted Roman’s face in an intentionally awkward way. “I will be sure to mention it at your funeral. I’m sure you’ve written an extensive ballad, and I’ll force Virgil to sing it in your honor.”

Roman had a sudden grin before resuming his ‘dying of exhaustion and probably wounds’ act. “Make sure you do,” he croaked out. “And have Patton put flowers in my casket.”

“Of course.”

Roman went limp, closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out.

“Patton!” Logan called. “We’re going to have to put on a funeral.”

“A what?!”

••^*^••

Logan leaned against Virgil’s side, his empty cup of coffee set beside him, as the second movie began to wrap up.

“If they start another movie, you can lay in my lap and go to sleep,” Virgil offered quietly.

Logan, who despite the coffee was beginning to nod, hummed an affirmative.

He was woken up a good deal later by a lack of sound, and found that they’d just finished what might have been the third, but could’ve been the fourth or fifth movie of the night. He was laying on a pillow in Virgil’s lap, and his legs were up in Roman’s lap. And judging by Patton’s smile, pictures had been taken.

“We’re finishing up now,” Patton whispered. “And setting up to sleep out here. Do you want to stay in here or go to your own room?”

Logan yawned. “It will be far better for my posture to go to my own room… but if you were to turn on a sound machine… I would not be opposed to remaining here.”

Soon, something between white noise and rain lulled him back to sleep.

••^*^••

They all found a marked improvement, both in Logan’s mood and even in Thomas’s clarity of mind, as they continued experimenting with touch.

It was discovered that Roman, while not starved, was also touch-hungry, and was practically a giant dog in that he would accept any and all kinds of petting.

And as Logan regulated, he found he was even more ready to give touch than to receive it. Roman flopping onto him after ‘terrible and glorious battles’ became a regular occurrence, often ending with Roman falling asleep, Logan gently scritching at his scalp.

Walks with Patton became something they both greatly enjoyed and looked forward to. Sometimes they could only link pinkies, sometimes holding hands, sometimes even walking arm in arm.

And Virgil was always ready to do something of his own near Logan, a limb draped over him or pressed up against him.

Logan found himself repeatedly thinking back to that one afternoon in the memory library, incredibly grateful that Virgil had asked, and that he had said yes. He could see so much in his life that was better now.

And he was really, truly happy.

#sanders sides #my own work #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #platonic analogical #gift fic

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incorrect-hs-quotes · 4 years

Note

What's the most chaos y'all've experienced?

oh do you guys wanna hear about the time i lived through something straight out of a fucking horror movie :D

-mod dave

so this was kinda recently actually. my partner, our dumbass idiot friend, and i were all vibing one weekend. now were already avid in wandering around state parks at night but like only the ones around my town. for reference: i live up in willoughby motherfucking hills which is this pop. 9000 quaint little rich people suburban town where the bitches down the street have horses on their property. our state parks are really cool but theyre really easily navigable, really easy to get to, and are always always ALWAYS next to or near a main road. get back to civilization all easy peasy

OK WELL OUR DUMBASS FRIEND. he goes “ok who wants to go to hell hollow” one weekend. and i never having been there go “ok sure yeah what the fuck ever” and im the only one of us with a license right now so we take my car and we fuck outta here

so we left at like 8pm. thing about this particular night tho is that it was getting darkish, the moon was full, this park is 30 minutes away from my house, and turns out its in the middle of fuck ass hell all nowhere. nothing but backroads and forest for miles. and yknow its fucking called hell hollow. and of course while were driving out there it starts pouring like fucking crazy like five minutes into the drive so now its STORMING dark full moon in the middle of fuckall nowhere driving to a place called hell hollow state park.

we miss the first turn cause of these goddamn roads and their idiot ass turns and we go the long way around of course and its a buncha hills. right. buncha hilly roads in a cloudburst of rain. so like. HUGE puddles in the dips between hills. im scared as fuck that im boutta hydroplane and my partners like “holy shit be careful” and my friends in the back minding his own damn business and all of a goddamn sudden my little light goes off and i see a notif on my little screen: “warning: low tire pressure”.

we pull into the goddamn parking lot and my TIRE is FLAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so a park ranger comes and stays with us til the rain stops (which takes about 30 minutes so its now 9pm) but none of us fucking know how to change a tire. but i happen to have an AAA card in my wallet so i call them and they tell us its a 45 minute wait for anyone to come out there and help us, but its not like we have a choice or anything so were all like “ok bet” and we wait.

an HOUR AN THIRTY MINUTES LATER (10:30pm) they call me BACK to say “actually we dont have any drivers but like we know a couple tow trucks that could get to you from mentor (which is also 30 minutes away from us) that you could just pay up front” and im like ACTUALLY FUCK YOU NONE OF US HAVE ANY MONEY so we just call my partners dad instead cause the homeboy knows what hes doing and hes like “ok cool ill be there”.

IT TAKES THIS MAN TIL 1AM TO COME GET US

and lemme tell yall the fucking TIME IN BETWEEN CALLING HIM and HIM ARRIVING was HORRIBLE. we started hearing shit in the woods. i was 100% sure they were animals at first but my friend and my partner were both off their shits insisting they saw something else. of course they got out of the car and i just fucking followed cause i didnt want to be alone in the car. at one point we saw some kinda pale-ass human-esque figure running around the edge of the woods and it scared the shit out of me. my partner tapped a stick on the ground to see if anything sentient was out there and we fucking heard tapping back from the woods and there no other cars in the parking lot. but the fucking thing that sent me the hardest was this.

my car? manual seat adjusts. i have levers and you gotta fucking pull em yourself. SO TELL ME WHY THE GOOD FUCKING LORD MY FRONT SEATS MOVED BY THEMSELVES WHILE WE WERE ALL OUTSIDE THE CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

lmao thats when i started crying

but uh the park ranger came back and checked on us again and i was like AGGRESSIVELY hiding a panic attack from this woman and she left JUST before my partners dad actually pulled into the parking lot. he changed our tire and we FUCKED outta there homie i was so stressed the whole fucking way home. i got home at 2:30 am. it was supposed to be a sleepover that night but i kicked everybody out of my house and spent the night in my house by myself. holy fuck

like my friend still makes jokes about it which irritates me to the ends of the earth but like on god i will literally never fucking go back to that park again in my life. you could not pay me. i will never set fucking foot in hell hollow ever again

AND AT THE END OF THE GODDAMN DAY WE DIDNT EVEN GO IN THE WOODS ANYWAY

#like #it was literally scary enough to where i could classify it as traumatic #like i get nauseous thinking about that fucking place #i literally felt like i was gonna die #i wanted to go home so bad #and i was so pissed at my friend for suggesting it #and i was pissed with myself for thinking it was a good idea #but he still does not let up #like even just fucking today the dude goes 'hehe lets go to hell hollow for banes (my partner) birthday'#and like i tell him 'dude im literally not joking when i say i dont ever fucking want to go there again'#and he goes 'no no i mean like in the day well go in the day'#NO #were not GOING #PERIOD #not a quote #mod dave #ask to tag #long

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

Text

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others Pt. 3

(“...you really did a number on me.”)

M’Baku x Reader

*Part 1* *Part 2*

Word Count: 3.7K

Plot: You and M’Baku have to be apart for a business trip you are taking. Leaving him sucks for you both, but career is important and he supports. But the trip is a lot more than a test of your value to your job, but to your relationship as well.

*Previously*

After toweling off, he heads for the bed, covers feeling cool against every inch of his skin. His body begins to wind down from all of the sexual frustration and Jabari disrespect, but is not used to the extra space in his bed. He is still mostly on his side, but feels over to yours, imagining your curves as his own personal skyline. He reaches for his phone to check, but nothing is on it from you, just a couple of memes from the other Jabari clowning him endlessly. He sets it back down, turning toward where you would be. He was already remorseful, especially since you were right, but he didn’t want to bar his guys from visiting, that is just rude. He takes a deep breath, drifting off to hopes of tomorrow being better.

The irritating jingle of his alarm wakes M’Baku slowly as he reaches to turn it off. The soft yellow glow of the sunrise seeps through the blinds as he awakes. He turns over to reach to the other side of the bed but his hand drops dramatically on the mattress. M’Baku’s head flies up in distress only to calm down once reality settles in again. Your body where you once laid for him to snuggle and grind up on in the morning is now miles away from him. M’Baku’s face plummets into his pillow, letting out a frustrated huff. This was going to be a lot harder than he imagined. Having the house to himself seemed like it might be relaxing but physical touch is M’Baku’s love language and that is just not possible solo. He tried that yesterday, and it just isn’t the same with you being there.

Rolling off to the side, he sits for a moment, head hanging, collecting his thoughts. It’s a little after 4 am, so you wouldn’t be up just yet, he surmises but picks his phone up anyway. No message from you, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re still angry, right? He hopes you will text him anyway, but you were pretty damn pissed so if 10 am comes without an answer, he’ll go ahead.

Rising with a stretch, he goes to the restroom, get dressed and gets some breakfast going. Heading downstairs, the remnants of last night still lurks in the room. No time to clean now. he shakes his head to himself, promising that he will talk to his men about treating his space with some damn respect. Getting the blender ot, he puts together a protein shake to get his body going for the day. The house is so quiet without you being there. Even though you didn't have to be up at his work hour, you couldnt sleep without him and sometimes you would blast some old school jams while making him a decent meal before he goes to work.

Decked out in his Under Armour shirt and Adidas track pants, with his Pumas on, he was ready to get to the gym. M’Baku has been doing physical training for a few years now. He dips and dabbles in many different channels of training, but today is just a simple boot camp regime that he advertised to get people right for the summer. It’s a quick and easy way for people to become interested in his program, and it usually pulls a certain type of clientele. They come for the workout but stay for him, which he is completely aware of. But it never becomes more than shameless flirting on their end and once their session is up, it’s done anyway.

Hopping in his SUV, he sets off to work. Making his way down a freeway, the trill of a phone call interrupts his Jay Prince jamming. Your name displays on his dash, causing his heart rate to rise a little, thinking fondly that you still can't rest at this hour. But also, will you be mad or over last night by now? M’Baku picks up.

“Hey, whatchu doin up this early, love?” He asks tentatively.

You say groggily, “I couldn’t sleep much more. You know I’m always up at this hour but I think I’m nervous about the first day.”

M’Baku nodding says, “Oh, please. You got this (Y/N). You come this far, you’re just getting your feet wet. Once you are in it, you’ll probably be bored to death.”

You smile to yourself thankful for his encouragement. “Yeah it’ll definitely be bored with all these white folks trying to pep us up in the world of business and commerce. You headed to work?”

“Yeah, might even be early this time,” M’Baku says, reaching for his shake taking a sip.

A police car zooms up to M’Baku’s car. The officer is looking at M’Baku for entirely too long since he is driving on the highway. M’Baku looks at him through his peripheral.

“Did you get some real food in you instead of just that protein lab created mess?”

M’Baku screwing his face up in a knot, “Yeah, I just got some fruit and a bagel.”

The police officer is still parallel to him. M’Baku looks over once and the officer has a radio in his hand, talking into it, looking him dead in his eyes.

“We were out of bagels when I left…” you say suspiciously.

M’Baku chuckles nervously, “I am capable of replenishing the fridge, you know?”

M’Baku keeps looking forward, he switches lanes to make the next exit.

You, not convinced, “Riiiight. Well I’m going to lay a little more until I have to get ready. Drive safe.”

“I will, go get em.” But you already hung up. Nodding to himself, M’Baku says,“Ok, we are still mad.” Looking in his rearview, the police car is gone.

That wasn’t the worst conversation you all had, but the tension was still there. M’Baku didn’t want to engage with you about it head on since you are just starting our first work day, but he does not like for arguments between you guys to go unresolved, he faces the issue head on and talks it out. So for now, you win, but the war ain’t over.

M’Baku pulls up to the gym, Baerobics. It has a reputation of hiring the best trainers that are the best looking. It won’t discriminate though, since everyone has their own taste, but it is practically a workout buddy meat market. M’Baku was a popular choice for clients but he believes in his work so the turnover rate is a little high, but those that stick around are either dedicated or paying for a show, which is still a win-win either way.

Swiping his key card, he makes his way inside. The receptionist says good morning as he makes his way to his space to set up for his first appointment. It’s 5:45 am, so he had a little time to look at his emails.

There’s a knock at his office door, and it’s the receptionist.

“Hey, how ya been, big guy?” She asks in a cheery tone.

“I’m great, Cheryl. You have a good weekend?”

She rolls her eyes, walking in like the details are too juicy to keep at the door. She is a brunette, 5 foot nothing, menopausal caucasian. She talks too much, but is good people.

“I thought you’d never ask. I told you about my nephew? Well, he has his graduation coming up.”

“Coming up? It’s already halfway through May, you didn’t mention it before.” M’Baku leans in, inquisitively.

“RIGHT?! I didn’t know until now! He is so secretive, and unsocial, I can’t wrap my head around that guy anymore. My sister is in shambles, trying to plan out the party on such short notice. Cake, photographer, venue, inviting family. I try to tell her to cool it, and keep it small, but she is not a friend of common sense.”

M’Baku discreetly looks at his computer’s clock. His appointment should be there any minute.

“Well, if you guys need any help, just let me know. I love decorating, and I could bring a dish or two. I feel like family, as much as you talk to me about them.”

Cheryl covers her heart, “Ohhh, M’BAKU, you are a saint made for sin! I’d love to see those hands do delicate work!” Laughing out loud, landing a hand on his forearm. She is like an aunt to you, but her jokes always make her infatuations clear.

The bell at the front door rings faintly in the background, making Cheryl jump up.

“Oh! We’re open! So I will text you later this week about the details, because we could use all the help we can get. Plus I have someone I’d love for you to meet.”

M’Baku raises his hands in protest, “No, no, no, Cheryl, I have a girlfriend.”

Cheryl turns mouth agape, “Still?? Wow, she must be a keeper then. Well, she is friendly, so it may happen regardless, she knows boundaries though. Thanks again!”

Cheryl leaves, M’Baku rubs his eyes in frustration. Why did he sign up to help her? He doesn’t know when it will be and for how long. He doesn’t even know her people, what if their racist as fuck?

He gets an IM from Cheryl, You have a visitor!

M’Baku types back a thank you and gets up to look out in his studio.

“M’BAKU! Getcho fat ass out here boah!”

He knew that voice anywhere, Akoje made his way to the stude.

“Akoje, what are you doing here man?”

Akoje was binding his locs into a bun on top of his head. Bouncing on his toes, his tall lanky frame was decked out in some bright neon patterned tights and a one-piece that said “I Need a Baker” with the face of the referenced singer.

“I’m cashing in on my free trial session, Kukie.” He says as he drops down to do burpees.

“I gave you, like five of those, which was four too many.” He says through gritted teeth.

Akoje pops back up to standing, “Oh, you keep count? Well then shit, just help your Jabari out, I have no means of training. Look at me, I am flab and bones.”

He turns sideways, practically doing a backbend to show off a non-existent belly.

“Ayye, go on with all of that, man. You should have had a membership of your own now. You could get your steps in by cleaning up my place for the mess you all made.”

Akoje lifts his hands in innocence, “Hey, that had nothing to do with me, you know Ogoro is on his see-food diet. We told him to slow up, but luckily the toilet wasn’t too far.”

M’Baku claps his hands in excitement, “And another thing! What the fuck happened in my bath-”

The door to his studio creeks open.

“Hey, sorry I’m late, traffic was pretty crazy today.”

M’Baku’s real first client comes in. Her yellow bone body, looked like gold melted into some hot pink fashion nova workout gear that does not hide a single aspect of her figure, which itself is nothing short of an advertisement for being someone’s trophy wife.

She lays down her bag and water, and Akoje in entranced.

“Ok, scrap the training, lemme be your assistant today.”

“No.”

“Come on! I been wondering about becoming a trainer anyway.”

“No.”

“I will pay YOU to let me do this.”

M’Baku pauses, then hold out his hand, “Gimme $20.”

Akoje unzips a side pocket on his legging and slaps it in M;Baku’s hand, looking back at the client Birdman style.

M’Baku pockets the money, “Now get out.”

Akoje looks back incredulously, “Man, I gave you the money!”

The client looks at them cautiously, then back to her phone.

M’Baku starts loudly, “Yes sir, thank you for catching up on your sessions, but I am with someone at the moment so please ait in the lobby until we are done here.” He takes Akoje by the arm and leads him out the door.

Once outside Akoje points back at M’Baku saying, “You ain’t shiiiiit. You better give me some details later!” Right before M’Baku closes the door.

M’Baku turns back to his client, “I am sorry about that, forgive me. I am M’Baku, I will be your Baerobics instructor this week.”

The client giggles holding out a manicured hand, “No problem, it was kind of cute to see. You all cousins or something?” she says with an accent from somewhere South.

“Yeah, we are. A little too close in relation if you ask me.”

“Oh cut him a break. I wasn’t sure who was my trainer so maybe he should consider it. I’m Kenie by the way.” She flashes a Colgate, dimpled smile that caught M’Baku a little by surprise as she puts her hand out for a firm shake.

“Kenie?” M’Baku repeats.

“Yeah, like Kenny from South Park, just spelled different. It’s short for Kennedy, but my friends call me Kenie.”

“Oh, ok. Well then Kennedy it is.” He says, before chortling out loud. Kenie made a face, pushing him at his chest, as he feigns injury.

“My goodness, you are stronger than you look, Ms. Kenie. How could you?”

“Yeah and you are only soft in feelings, I see.” She says, shaking her hand like she just punched a brick wall. Kenie was very charismatic so far but M’Baku knew how to keep it casual and professional.

“So let’s just go over to my office and do a questionnaire about you dietary and training needs”

He pulls out a chair for her as she arches her butt out to sit. Maybe she can’t help it, but M’Baku kept his gaze averted. He makes his way to the other side, her eyes follow his body until he is seated, and they get started.

M’Baku starts his introduction, “So, I like to start my sessions just asking what your goals are, and what you’re looking to improve on during these sessions.”

She crosses her arms under her breasts, looking off into space, “Well, summer is approaching, so you know bikinis and pool parties are happening real, real quick. So I just want to make sure I’m toned up, some definition on my stomach,” she looks down feeling her flat tummy, “And get my arms right, legs tight, all that.”

M’Baku looks her over as she points to her ‘problem areas’, “Yeah, you have a good foundation in your midsection, I can tell. But there’s plenty to do that’ll get you toned, just have to mostly watch your diet to make sure it appears.”

Kenie rolls her eyes, “Ugh, I know! I just love my carbs though, it’s a struggle.”

M’Baku chuckles, “Yeah I love them too, sweets as well, but it’s about moderation and discipline to get the results. You won’t have to give them up too long though, I don’t believe in completely abstaining from what you crave.”

Kenie leans forward, hands on her knees, biting her lip looking over his desk slightly. “I know, I agree completely.” M’Baku was not sure if they were talking about sweets and carbs anymore.

Clearing his throat, “Ok, so we can do some little warm up exercises just to see where your fitness level is.”

Back in his studio, M’Baku requests her to do some squats, watching her form. She is hesitant every time she goes into it.

M’Baku approaches her, “Try to keep your back straight as you go down.” She nods, attempting again.

“Not quite like that. Carry your chest high and try again.” He puts his hand to her upper back as she goes down.

M’Baku touches under her bicep, “Arms up and lean back a bit further.”

She looks like she is fighting back a smile, but she turns into a pro at it after a few rounds.

“Good, again.” M’Baku commands.

She breaths and goes.

“Perfect, now lower.”

She goes, little lower for two rounds.

“Ok, I think you can go lower.”

She does, smiling broadly now. “I can definitely do that…”

“Yeah, that’s it! Good. Ok stop. That was great!”

She smiles, fanning herself, “No thank you! Seeing that in the mirror was a treat.”

“Yeah, your form really locked in once we got going.”

“Mhmm...once I get going, it’s hard to stop, especially when it feels good, you know?” She says with an odd expression

M’Baku nods looking away for a second, “Ok, now we’ll move on to some ab workouts.”

M’Baku gave her a full body workout: Abs, arms, lower body, cardio, stretching. She didn't seem to be a stranger to the gym, but she may have been nervous because everytime M’Baku came close to target specific parts of her body that she needed to watch, she really listened and seemed renewed with purpose.

“Thanks again for the session, you really did a number on me.” She takes his hand.

“No problem at all, you are a great student! So is it the same time tomorrow?”

“Sure! I may be walking funny, but I’m sure you’re used to that effect on people.”

As she left, M’Baku went to his phone, checking to see a snap from you. It’s a picture of a meal captioned ‘Continental breakfast=TRASH’ He smiled, sending her an SMH text. Back in his office, his studio door opens and AKoje bursts in, “Yo, that baby girl you were bending over and shit is having car troubles, you got jumper cables?”

M’Baku goes down to survey the scene. Kenie is long faced before she see’s M’Baku approaching.

“Hey, M’Baku, I am so sorry. Your cousin offered your help before I could figure things out. You don't have to, but I just can't get the damn thing to start.”

“Yeah, lemme get the cables.”

M;Baku pulls his car in next to hers and pops the hood so start the process. A couple of turns and she finally has power again.

Looking relieved, she yells out the window, “You are a godsend! Thank you thank you!”

M’Baku unhooks the cables and comes over to her window, “It was nothing, we can't have you stranded on your first day.”

“I will have to repay you!”

“No, don’t worry about that.”

“Please! I got you, I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll think of something. But for now, I will see you tomorrow”

She pulls off and Akoje is slow clapping.

“What in Hanuman’s name are you doing?”

Akoje stops and laughs, “My my, I should be asking you the same thing! What was that?!”

M’Baku is confused, “You told me she needed help, so I came to do that.”

Akoje nods, “Mhm, and she is going to come back to do you, trust me.”

“Ayye! What kind of language is that. You know that’s not going to happen. You shoot your shot, ok?”

“Oh I plan to trust, but I actually don't know. I’m smart but no psychic, but a rocket scientist isn’t needed to judge that she wants that ass man.”

“I'm not stupid. She isn't the first to come on to me, if she even was, I never entertain that, you know.”

“Yeah except she isn’t ugly or crazy acting. I’m just telling you to watch your back. As far as handling all that ass, I know she could use your help getting real loooow, and DEEP into those exercises.” Akoje says with throaty bass in his voice.

M’Baku brushed off Akoje’s talk. M’Baku is as wild about you as you are about him, so no instagram model is going to take his heart that easily.

Later that day, after going through his appointments, he starts to head home, exhausted and sweaty to the nth degree. A call comes through on his dash, Mama.

M’Baku clears his throat before picking up. When his mother calls, he never knows if it is to say hello, how are you, or to cut him down to a nub for not calling or coming around more often and not appreciating her.

“Hello, Mama, what’s up?” M’Baku says in a cheery voice.

“What’s up? Is that how you greet you mother? Try that again.” she says sourly.

M’Baku rolls his eyes, “How are you doing today, mama?”

“Oh, I am doing great, Kuku!” Renewed with a bubbly personality. “What are you doing now, my son?”

“I am headed back to the house, probably relaxing for the evening.”

“Ohhh, you work so hard all the time. You deserve it. But don’t act like you are 80 years old, you have it so much better than me or your father did at your age.”

M’Baku’s mother was pretty good at building up to a compliment and adding a criticism at the exit door.

“Yes, I know mama. Did you need something?” he says exasperatedly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask. Well, I could use some help with this new shelf your father bought but will not read the instructions for. So now it is some abstract art piece in the middle of my floor.”

“Ok, I can do that. Maybe I’ll come by this weekend to do it?”

He hears her kiss her teeth, “Eh, you super busy this week or something? Does the girl have you running around for her, waiting at her hands and feet?”

M’Baku shakes his head, accelerating, “No, mama, she is out of town this week for work.”

“OH!!” she exclaims. “Then you should take me out! It’s been so long since you and I had mother-son time alone. How about that?”

M’Baku thought about this for a beat. It had been a while, not because he didn't like to see his mother but it’s so busy working and taking care of your own problems before adding on someone else's. They used to get into some heated discussion over this, especially since being with you, but she seems to have adjusted for the most part.

“Ok, that sounds good then. I’ll call you when I have the time.”

“Ok, Kuku. Muah, I love you!”

“Love you too, mama.”

Making it back inside, he is greeted yet again with the mess left from the day before. Yet again, he is too tired to even deal. Whipping his shirt off, he adds it to the pile of mess and makes his way upstairs to shower. As the water ran down his head to his body, he thought about his day. He will have to cancel with Cheryl because of his mom, so for once, thank Hanuman for her calling. Getting his washcloth lathered, he worked on his chest and torso. And that girl, Kenie. Something seemed different about her than others he had seen. Neck and face done, he works his sensitive areas and crevices. Clearly she flirted, but that wasn’t it. She was really interesting for some reason. He turns the cold water up some to rinse off, shaking his head as the water cascaded down.

Then the thought that he hadn’t heard from you all day came into his mind, so he hops out of the shower and makes his way to towel off and goes to the bedroom. Picking his phone off the charge, he looks at his messages. Nothing, not a single text or missed call from you. It’s only 6 pm so your day might not be quite over yet, but you send a text to her just asking what’s up. Walking away he gets a text almost immediately from you.

Yeah, fine but we need to talk.

*Part 4*

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

T’akia

Commencement Day

The Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones @hairhattedghooligan @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @universalbri

#m'baku #m'baku x reader #mbaku x reader #mbaku #wakanda #black panther #marvel #fanfic #mbaku fanfic #m'baku fanfic #black panther fanfic

95 notes · View notes

meggannn · 6 years

Note

LOL YOUR ROOMMATE?? I can't stop laughing omg

god did i ever share the full story of what happened with my housemate last year? i think i bitched about her a little bit but here’s the full write-up of my six months with that housemate. unedited and probably full of errors and discrepancies sorry cause im going off entirely from memory

i’ve now moved out of this apartment, but i was there for a year with three other girls. two of them i got along with fine, and we introduced ourselves to each other before we moved in because that’s common courtesy to see if we get along right? but basically before any of us could talk or interview candidates for the last spot in the apartment, this girl, i’m making up a name and calling her emily, this random girl named emily basically came in and signed on for the spot on the lease without talking to any of us. uh, okay? so we eventually all get in a group chat and talk and introduce ourselves and plan to move in. day one: emily moved in before me and i moved in a few hours later. i walk in and see the kitchen and she’s already covered the fridge with magnets and pictures and paper clippings featuring…. herself. like, a few of them had her friends, but most of the pictures were of her. basically. am i crazy or is that fucking weird? so from the get-go she just seemed……. if not privileged (which i also knew she was later), then definitely some sort of weird type of entitled but i couldn’t tell if it was maybe just cultural differences? (she was russian but had grown up in the states. idk)

anyway. she had this boyfriend who would come over occasionally, it was no problem since we didn’t talk and just waved hi to each other occasionally. but from the first week she and another housemate who lived on the far end of the apartment were both having trouble sleeping because someone else on the floor was blaring their tv loudly all hours of the night in the room next door. after several weeks of not being able to sleep through the night, they’d pretty much had enough and managed to track down whose apartment it was, and it turned out to be this elderly black woman’s apartment. i don’t really know if the woman understood why they were so upset because i think she might have been going slightly senile as well, so i think maybe the tv, or the volume, was something she wasn’t entirely aware she was doing? but the other housemate, i’ll call her veronica (who is more chill but was still upset) understood that this was probably not a fight they wanted to pick. veronica noticed that the elderly woman had a middle-aged male visitor, who looked like family, come visit the woman a few times a week and take care of her/take out the trash etc, so veronica decided to wait until she saw the visitor again to talk to him about lowering the volume or turning the tv off, or maybe getting his relative headphones or something. but emily, like….. kept pushing it every single night. every single night for the first month or so she’d stomp across the floor and rap on the door loud enough to wake up the entire floor (the walls were thin and it wasn’t a big building). and most of the time the woman didn’t respond, but there was one notable time someone else got fed up enough to wake up at 2am and yell at emily (deservedly so) for waking up the whole hall. all of which i heard very clearly because my room was next to the main door to out apt.

things escalated when i overheard emily talking to her friend on the phone about the situation and then she mentioned that in retaliation, she went over in the middle of the night and put vaseline on the woman’s door handle. i was kind of stunned and disgusted that a grown ass adult (she’s at least a few years older than me, i’d guess late 20′s/early 30′s?) would do something like that???? but anyway a few nights later iirc, once again in the middle of the night, i was woken up by a shouting match down the hall because apparently the male relative had come back to check in on who he said was his mother, and HE WAS PISSED, UNDERSTANDABLY SO, AT FINDING MY ROOMMATE IN THE MIDDLE OF PUTTING VASELINE ON THE FLOOR CREVICE UNDER THE DOOR. LIKE. THAT’S NOT JUST PETTY BUT REAL FUCKING DANGEROUS TO DO TO AN ELDERLY WOMAN. he basically shouted at her and she kept talking about how she can’t sleep for months because of the noise, and whatever, but she stomped back to our apartment and they had this argument loudly at the door (remember, my room was right next to the front door). i listened to it for a couple minutes wondering if she would like, acknowledge what she did was wrong? and it became clear that she was so focused on the noise she wasn’t listening to this dude, so i came out and i tried to be a voice of reason. the guy was understandably really pissed that she would do something like that and i apologized for her and said she was wrong to do that (she had stomped off back to her room meanwhile) and he seemed grateful to talk to someone who wasn’t batshit crazy in the meantime so he mentioned that he had grown up in this building all his life before moving out so it hurt to see someone treat his mother this way who had lived here for 50 years or something. and after that i was just thinking like, jesus, this is so not the kind of fight you want to have with a family like this as a white woman in a gentrified apartment complex. like at some point you need to realize this is not your fucking place and if you must settle things, do it civilly or just dip out entirely.

i think emily eventually apologized and he accepted and they found out that the tv wasn’t even coming from the woman’s room at all, but from someone on the floor above who THEY also had had problems with for months.

veronica was away on a trip i think during this climax, but before, while it was still escalating, i was talking with veronica and veronica mentioned she and emily had bitched about the noise to each other often, but veronica said she drew the line when emily basically started making her complaints race-themed ever since she found out the elderly woman was black. etc the complaints turned from “it’s too loud” to “this neighborhood is so ghetto” and “that’s what black ppl are like” and stuff like that. veronica wasn’t cool with that, so she planned on handling any other complaints herself directly so she could resolve things like a normal person, but ever since veronica mentioned that i knew emily was a pos

emily also complained about people partying/drinking on the street outside till ~11pm, which imo isn’t too unreasonable, like normal people do, and basically being too loud or whatever. on some level i get it cause she had to go to sleep early to go to work early, but also at some point i was just wondering how she functioned as a human being in the real world

ANYWAY THE STORY I TELL AT PARTIES IS THIS ONE, THE ONE IN WHICH SHE LEAVES (i will try to keep this as short as possible while still giving you all the details you need to understand just how fucking weird it was):

in early november, emily group messaged everyone asking if her boyfriend could come live with us. to her credit she said she wouldn’t do it unless everyone was ok, and she waited to hear back from all of us. i was out of town at the time but i remember being really put off by this idea and i was going to say no, when i noticed that my two other housemates had ALREADY said yes in the chat. just like that. i was stunned. what? like, no follow-up questions or “we dont even really know him” or “how is this gonna work”? were they fucking insane?

i messaged her privately saying i really wasn’t comfortable with it, for xyz reasons. among those being 1) rent, because nowhere did she offer to split the rent five ways instead of four (they were basically going to split her room between them, which, no). 2) fridge/living space, which was small enough with four people to one apartment as it is, and 3) just overall “i dont fucking know him” atmosphere. she messaged back saying she understood, and i got to asking why this was so important to her to do now, because she mentioned she wanted to do it “asap” if we’d said yes.

and this is where my “no” turned into “hell fucking no.” she told me this:

in response to my question of if she’d want to put him on the lease, she said no, she wouldn’t want her boyfriend on the lease in case “something happens so she could just tell him to leave” (raising my question: what, exactly, do you expect to happen? maybe the landlord, who lives in the building, finding out someone’s living here illegally? bc THAT WOULD DO IT FOR ME)

she was marrying him in december which is why she wanted it to happen “soon” so they wouldnt be living apart. i asked why she couldnt just wait until the lease was up to do all this, to which she said:

her boyfriend’s green card (he was russian) had expired so he was now paying month to month and that’s when i realized, oh. bitch he’s using you for a green card marriage and you’re trying to inconvenience all of us instead of owning your life like an adult, or something

at some point during the conversation she like tried to bribe me with a couple hundred extra dollars per month “to cover the cost of the extra utlities/wifi/inconvenience,” which i politely declined. this was when i said basically “look i never got the sense you particularly liked living here (massive understatement) and i think that it’d work out best if you moved out, which you’re clearly already planning to do”

and she did start looking immediately. at some point while she was looking i overheard her talking to veronica mentioning that he was a huge fan of putin and she’d asked him to like, politely, stop?, lmao because she didn’t like his entire yknow politics, and he basically said “i’m sorry, i can’t betray my personal/national identity, i just really believe in putin” or whatever the fuck and i thought to myself, this bitch is marrying him anyway for some godforsaken reason

i don’t know why i hoped that she would be any more considerate moving out than when she moved in, but somehow i was still surprised when the sublet she picked out was someone she never introduced us to or mentioned before, she literally just said “hey here’s your new housemate and when she’s moving in” and dropped us a phone number and facebook page.

one last thing: while emily was moving out, veronica mentioned to me that she was really pleased i stood up to her because she felt massively uncomfortable with the situation too. i asked why she didn’t say something, and she said she talked to emily privately airing out her problems, and emily had managed to talk her into accepting that sort-of bribe privately off message, and emily told her ‘just say yes’ in the chat, so she did and was kind of kicking herself for it after. (our other housemate was off doing fuck knows what at this point; she was gone for weeks on end leaving us to take care of her guinea pigs for her with little to no warning.)

but then, veronica says, the big thing that astounds her is that this wasn’t even the same boyfriend who she’d had when she’d moved in. six months had passed by this point. SHE HAD BEEN DATING GREEN CARD GUY FOR LIKE, THREE MONTHS WHEN SHE DROPPED THIS ON US

and then she moved to fucking harlem, one of the yknow most diverse neighborhoods in the city known particularly for its black heritage, so i guess have fun honey

(her replacement somehow turned out to be just as bad as she was, so you can imagine why i was eager for my lease to end in may)

#stuff #Anonymous #askbox

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clonerightsagenda · 7 years

Text

Posting Gill’s bday fic over here with permission. It’s Rosemary-related and TLC compliant (with a couple of minor spoilers) but should be understandable even with no knowledge of the AU.

This is what you have learned from dating Rose Lalonde. Expect any room to fill up with clutter in her presence. Your attempts to keep things tidy are as effective as holding back the tide. Expect everything to take on the feel of an epic, like you might be summoned onto a world-altering quest at a moment’s notice. It’s like a human fairy tale, but the old kind, not remakes that are all glitter and talking animals. The stories with teeth.

Don’t expect her to say that she loves you.

Don’t take it personally either. That’s what you remind yourself. Rose resists sincerity. When you presented her with the first flowers you’d grown in the new greenhouse (roses; you’d been delighted to learn she’d been named for a flower), she’d laughed uncertainly like you’d unlocked an event she didn’t have a script for. Over the next week, as the blooms withered, they moved around. First you spotted them on the windowsill, then on her bedside table, in this vase or that one, like she couldn’t figure out what place they had in her life.

On the Land of Rays and Frogs, you encountered a puzzle path made of colored lily pads. If you stepped on the wrong one, it would buckle and deposit you in a mini-boss chamber before you returned to the start, weary and wiser. Navigating this relationship feels much the same. Some of your missteps now are the inevitable outcome of two species still learning about each other, but not all of them. After reading Rose’s walkthrough, you’d daydreamed of meeting its author. Now you think you need a walkthrough for her too.

The day after your tumultuous first date, Rose dumped her concoctions down the drain, saying she could embarrass herself perfectly well without the aid of depressants. Not even a week later, she set the equipment up again.

“It might come in handy for medicinal purposes,” she said when you asked her why she’d changed her mind. “Besides, it wasn’t all bad.” She winked. “We got some mileage out of it.”

You blushed, and your rainbow drinker glow briefly flared before you wrestled it under control again. In the first few weeks you hadn’t known how the rules changed when you moved from unofficial to official. Where did you put your eyes, or your hands? What were you allowed to say? “It did make you more forward.”

She laughed, and from the sharpness on her breath you realized she’d already been sampling her experiments. “I can be so fucking uptight sometimes. Maybe we all need to lighten up. Lighten up. Get it?”

“I get it,” you said. But you didn’t.

So you sought clarification from Dave. After you quested through the meteor, lipstick at the ready in case of clown sightings, you found him topside staring back the way you’d come. At the beginning of your journey, you’d taken turns stationing yourselves there, afraid Jack would catch up and resume his rampage when you least expected it. When he didn’t make an appearance, you’d all let your guards down, reducing sentry duty to a quick backward glance now and then. Was he keeping watch for Lord English now?

“Are you watching for Jack?” you asked.

He jumped and tried to cover it with a miniscule adjustment to his cape. “Nah. Watching Skeletor blast everyone to bits.”

“You and Rose have been up here a lot recently.”

“We both came up after the first killing, you know? It was so loud.” He rubbed at his eyes underneath his shades. His skin is a few shades lighter than his sibling’s, and you could see shadows there. “It’s been hard to sleep since then. At least she’s found a way to conk out.”

“About her newfound use of soporifics.” You hesitated, staring up at the flashing lights that were already becoming familiar. It’s amazing how fast you accustom yourselves to the unthinkable. “Is that normal for humans?”

He frowned. (Later, he’d tell you he hadn’t been sure how to respond. “I didn’t want to fuck it up for you two,” he said. “I didn’t think it’d get that bad.”) “Hard to say what’s normal in our situation. Guess a lot of people would pull out a bottle after everything we’ve gone through. Better than sticking a forty-five in your mouth. She’s always been extreme about reacting to things. It’s hard to believe we’re the same damn species sometimes, let alone siblings.”

“I didn’t think an outing with me is so terrible you have to be out of your wits to enjoy it.” You didn’t mean to sound petulant, but his eyebrows rose.

“She doesn’t mean it like that.”

“I thought you didn’t understand her.”

“It would take an institutional thinktank to really figure her out, but I do a little.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. He does that when he’s being serious sometimes. “I think the whole thing freaked her out. Freaks her out, present tense, if you’re officially an item now. Congrats, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

Another spiderweb of cracks blossomed above your heads. You could see them reflected in Dave’s shades as he said, “I don’t think she trusts anyone being nice to her 100%, that’s all. Not even me.”

Rose has been clean for months now in human terms. You both have. The first few weeks of your victory were spent dealing with the effects of abandoning your substances of choice. You stumbled around feeling as if you’d been dipped in concrete, your movements and thoughts slow and ponderous. Rose went days without sleep and flinched away from things the rest of you couldn’t see. Roxy warned you of what to expect, since she’d gone through the process before. She’s also the one who told you to remind Rose to eat. “She’s not gonna want to,” she said. “You feel gross all over and the last thing you want to do is stick more shit in your body, but if you don’t eat you’ll just feel crummier.”

You’d noticed her drinking her meals before, but you’d never brought it up beyond meaningful glances or the pointed placement of foodstuffs in her respiteblock. Rose has always been good at dodging questions. “Do you have any suggestions for a strategic approach? She’ll try to deflect me with witticisms. Her barbs are floppy at the edges right now, but my defenses are equally compromised.”

“That’s a cute way of saying you’re both fucked up.” Roxy shrugged. “I can’t beat her in a war of words, and I wouldn’t try. My advice? Sit on her and force feed her Saltines while telling her it’s for her own good.”

You had been skipping meals yourself. Even after eating normal food, you still felt hungry. Your system wanted something else to satisfy it, so what was the point? Rose latched on to that hypocrisy when you tried to nag her, so you’d end up sitting across the table from each other with plates of leftovers cold from the fridge, matching each other mouthful for mouthful. Whatever worked.

The worst of that is past now. But sometimes she still behaves in ways that make you wonder if after all these sweeps she really trusts you.

-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] -- GA: Jade GA: Shes Doing It Again GG: whos doing what? :o GA: You Know Who GA: Who Else Do I Come To You In Search Of Explanations For Their Inexplicable Habits GA: Show Some Space Player Solidarity Here GA: There Are So Few Of Us Who View Common Sense As Part Of A Complete Breakfast GG: for everyone else its an optional granola to sprinkle on top GA: The Recipe Said Season To Taste And Im Afraid Theres A Serious Lack Of That In The Premises GA: Ok Can We Cut The Extended Cooking Metaphor Out GG: yeah, it was getting a little meanspirited GA: That Too I Guess Mostly I Didnt Want To Get Stuck Exchanging Culinary Puns GG: ok, what terrible thing is rose doing now GA: She Has Locked Herself In Her Room And Has Been Listening To Her Playlist Designated For Angst For Three Hours GG: lol GG: that behavior cannot stand! GG: except it sort of can, since we all have a right to privacy GG: even if we exercise that right by listening to sad music all day GG: these things cannot be revoked for bad taste GA: Actually Most Of It Has Been Pretty Good GA: Filtering Through The Door Gives It Nice Acoustics GG: maybe you need to give her some... space :D :D :D GA: I Just Want To Know What Upset Her GA: She Says It Wasnt Me But I Dont Know If That Means It Wasnt Me Or It Was Me And I Am Expected To Work That Out On My Own GA: A Reassessment Of The Past Few Days Activities Hasnt Turned Up Anything Suspicious GG: i cant think of anything that might have upset her... GG: ohhhhhhhhhh GG: i think its her moms birthday GG: that might be it GA: How Did You Know GA: Is That Supposed To Be Common Knowledge GG: she complained one time about having to go to a fancy dinner GG: something thrown by her moms colleagues i think??? GG: her mom made her dress up in something frilly, she said she felt like an american girl doll GG: to be honest she sent a picture and i thought it was a cute dress!! GG: definitely not her style though GA: Im Impressed You Remember GG: i try to keep track of these things GG: it was nice hearing about everyones lives, i always wished I could do things like that GG: tell me your lususes birthday, i will put it in my calendar GA: I Never Knew It GA: I Wish Shed Told Me GA: Rose I Mean I Dont Think Wriggling Days Are Important For Virgin Mothergrubs GG: dont take it personally GG: she does it to all of us, and youre her girlfriend so she has to be EXTRA secretive about terrible and compromising things like emotions GA: That Logic Sounds Backward GG: the human mind is a complicated maze of mystery kanaya GA: Sounds Mysterious GG: it is GG: she probably doesnt realize its stressing you out, i know shes trying to be better about that kind of thing GG: you know, COMMUNICATION!! D: GA: No Please Anything But That GG: the achilles heel of our entire household GG: i can bug her if you want GA: No Thats Ok GA: Mostly I Wanted To Make Sure I Hadnt Caused This And Needed To Resolve It GA: If She Wants To Grieve By Herself I Understand GG: if shes still in there by dinner well root her out! GG: there is a limit to how many sad songs are good for your soul GA: Ok GA: In The Meantime Do You Have Any Work That Needs Doing In The Greenhouse GA: Id Like To Keep My Hands Busy GG: theres some stuff that needs deadheading on table three GG: do you want company? GA: No Thats Fine GA: Ill Talk To You Later GG: sure thing! -- ¬¬grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] -- GA: Im Sorry About Your Mother TT: Who told you about that? GA: Jade TT: Figures. TT: Lousy goddamn supportive friends. GA: She Has Said She Will Flush You Out If You Dont Come Down To Dinner GA: Do You Feel Up To It GA: Otherwise I Can Convince Her To Leave You Be GA: She Is Easily Distracted From Her Resolutions If You Know How To Play Your Gaming Rectangles Right TT: No, I'll be there. TT: What time is it? GA: Half Past Five So No Rush GA: Im Still Gardening And Havent Washed Up TT: It might take me that long to get presentable. GA: Was Her Wriggling Day Important To You GA: I Admit The Concept Is New To Me GA: What With Our Ancestors Being So Far Removed From Our Lives And Our Guardians Being Literal Fauna Who Did Not Celebrate Notable Dates TT: It’s probably not even her real birthday. TT: We were all created on the same day, and I doubt anyone was on hand to record when her meteor touched down. TT: She must have picked a day she liked. TT: We used to give each other over-the-top gifts every year. TT: I thought she was being passive aggressive, so I reciprocated in turn. TT: The last year, I thought about getting her a bedazzled martini glass, but I didn’t get around to it. TT: Thank god. TT: I can only hope she interpreted my gestures as sincere as readily as I interpreted hers as sarcastic. TT: Otherwise she must have thought I was the worst daughter imaginable. GA: Im Sure She Didnt Think That TT: I wish I’d given her something better. TT: Something genuine. GA: I Was Working On A New Hat For Nepeta During The Game GA: I Got Some Monster Slime On Her Old One With A Sloppy Chainsaw Maneuver And Even Though She Said It Wasnt The First Time I Wanted To Make It Up To Her GA: And Help At Least One Of My Teammates Diversify Their Wardrobe TT: There’s always an ulterior motive, isn’t there? GA: You Tell Me GA: You Are The Expert In Decoding The Nefarious Meaning Hidden Within Every Exchange Of Pleasantries TT: It’s a secret code, Kanaya. TT: The sixth grader who tossed the newspaper into our yard this morning is working with the KGB. That’s what "Good morning" meant. This is well established in spy manuals. GA: My Knowledge Of Human Subterfuge Is Always Expanding GA: The Hat Was Supposed To Be A Surprise GA: Then I Found It In A Treasure Chest Not Long Into Our Journey GA: Theyre Gone And You Know That But Then You Find Something That Reminds You GA: Oh GA: Ill Never Give Her That Will I TT: I don’t know what I would’ve done if we’d lost anyone from our session. TT: Well, I do know. I have memories from a timeline where we lost half. TT: It wasn’t pretty. TT: I know in a lot of ways we got lucky. GA: Its Not A Contest GA: You Dont Have To Have Had It Worst To Feel Bad TT: I know. TT: But it’s hard. GA: See Look At Us Talking About Our Emotions Isnt That Nice GA: A Horrible Kind Of Nice TT: Or a nice kind of horrible. TT: Either or. GA: The Juxtaposition Is Key TT: I didn't mean to shut you out. GA: I Know You Need Privacy Sometimes GA: I Would Just Prefer To Know Whats Going On So I Dont Have To Worry About Whats Wrong GA: And You Know You Can Talk To Me TT: I know. Intellectually. TT: Is it weird I can trust you all with my life but not always with my feelings? GA: Kind Of GA: But I Get It GA: Were All Weird About Some Things TT: I'm trying to do better. And I'll let you know next time I need to indulge in a three-hour sad jams session so you won't worry. TT: Maybe after I've run through my playlist, we can even talk about it. GA: We Can Sit Awkwardly At A Table Waiting For The Other One To Break The Silence First TT: A tradition. GA: Also I Should Let You Know Its Stir Fry Night TT: Really? TT: You should have led with that. TT: Save me a seat.

As time passes, you all improve with hesitant steps that sometimes send you sliding back, sometimes not. Rose throws herself into her walkthrough, which she plans to distribute to anyone else caught up in SGRUB’s gears. Everyone is on consultant duty to flesh out areas of personal expertise. You, however, are her co-editor, a position of special privilege.

Rose views the work as one more way to help whatever players come after you. Your motivation is less selfless. Once, several sweeps and universes ago, an alien’s words found you and gave you something to hang on to. Somewhere, in a distant galaxy, someone else is being forced to play this game. Maybe your words can reach them, like Rose’s reached you. Working on the walkthrough now lets you build something together in a way that she won’t dismiss as sappy and overdone, a love letter for the universe.

That doesn’t mean you don’t run into difficulties, of course.

TT: Have you had a chance to look over the Prospit chapter? GA: Oh Uh GA: Ive Seen It TT: Did you have any feedback? TT: I'm going to ask Jade too, but I thought I'd give you the first shot. GA: Um GA: I Dont Know TT: Was it that off-base? TT: I know I'm a Derse dreamer, but I tried to be thorough. GA: Its More The Tone GA: You Wrote That Prospit May Look Friendlier But Should Still Be Viewed As An Antagonist Because It Has Ulterior Motives GA: And Maybe Thats True Especially About The Clouds GA: But My Time On The Moon Was The Brighter Portion Of My Childhood GA: And The People Of Prospit Were Always Kind To Me GA: So I Guess The Framing Made Those Memories Feel Kind Of GA: Threatened TT: Oh. GA: It Isnt A Logical Reaction TT: What do you think I should change? GA: I Dont Know GA: Maybe Nothing GA: Youre The Expert Here I Know Im Biased Toward My Moon Whatever Systems It Might Be Part Of GA: We All Take That View About Some Parts Of Our Youth Dont We GA: Even If It Was Part Of Something Bad We Remember The Good Moments GA: We Hold On To The Small Kindnesses TT: …Yeah. GA: You Can Disregard That Feedback GA: Youre The One With Writing Expertise And A Clear Goal In Mind GA: I Dont Really Know What Im Doing GA: Youre Better At This TT: I’m really not. TT: I just put on a more convincing show. TT: Don’t dismiss yourself. You have expertise in areas I don’t. GA: I Guess Im Not As Used To Putting Myself Out There TT: You can come up with a clever pen name. TT: There’s a tradition of vampires spelling their names backward. GA: Im Reformed TT: An anagram then, maybe. TT: Jokes aside, this is a collaborative project. We’ve got a Google doc and everything. TT: I don't want to intergalactically publish anything you're not comfortable with. TT: How about a revision session this evening? I'll bring Lofthouse cookies. GA: The Ones That Are Just Discs Of Sugar And Flour TT: With nary a redeeming nutritional quality in sight. TT: Keep that quiet, though. Jane would kill me if she knew I was smuggling them into the house. GA: Sounds Great Ill Be There

Rose’s typical drafting position is on her stomach with her laptop propped up on the pillow. You prefer to stretch your legs out with your back up against the wall. Thermoses of tea balance precariously between the two of you on the mattress.

“There’s been a lot of activity on the kernelsprite document,” Rose says, flicking through the pages. “Apparently Hal listed “100 advantages of being prototyped” and Dirk replaced it with “Most of this list is either illegal or immoral.” I’m turning track changes on to see what they were.”

You tap your fingers idly on the keys while your own husktop buffers. “Anything good?”

“Get away with murder,” she reads. “That’s cliché, you don’t even have to be a sprite for that. I think he just put it in there to be edgy. He’s trying so hard; you have to respect that. It’s like when I started buying black makeup to try to spite my mother.” She scrolls down further. “Oh, here’s a good one. Clip through the floor.”

“I’ve seen John do it. He’s not as original as he thinks he is.” You peer at her screen. “Eat your enemy’s phone. I’ll give him points for one. It’s not feasible for most mortals.”

Rose reaches across your legs for another cookie. “Sure, if you’re a coward.”

“I’ll accept that designation if it means avoiding a mouthful of circuitry.”

She chews thoughtfully and then flicks a sprinkle off onto the carpet. At least you’re in her room. Still, you feel a compulsion to pick it up. “About what you were saying earlier. I don’t want to contribute to any lingering insecurities.”

The change of topics catches you off guard. “They’re milling around in the lobby, but I’m not letting them upstairs.” You shrug, your shoulders sliding up the wall. “As we’ve been reminding each other, we can’t fix everything about ourselves immediately. I’m more confident than I used to be. I didn’t let Jake talk me into that routine with the glitter.”

“Shame.” She frowns at you, an expression diluted somewhat by a rim of frosting on her upper lip. “I’m not commandeering this project too much, am I? It’s nice to have something to be enthusiastic about again, but maybe I’m getting carried away.”

“No, you’re being very accommodating.” You squirm, smoothing out inconsequential creases in your skirt. Sometimes feelings don’t make sense. But once Rose decides she wants to talk about them, she tries to pin them to the page and dissect them. She does it because she wants to understand and help, the same way she wants to reverse engineer SBURB with words to assist players who come after. That doesn’t make the process any more pleasant when you’re the one on the operating table. “The problem is on my end, in the concern lobby. The lurking insecurities have been taking numbers for a while, and the counter is only up to twelve.”

“Like Inside Out crossed with a DMV? Hellish.” Rose picks up a pen and rolls it between her fingers. She likes to draft things longhand first sometimes. “I remember back on the last day of the game, you said you thought everyone burned brighter than you. You must’ve realized by now that my “burning brighter” is mostly because I have a habit of setting myself on fire.”

You’ll admit you’d been starstruck by the walkthrough’s mysterious author. It had been nice to harbor a new secret crush once Vriska was a lost cause. And you’d first met Rose face to face as a newly risen goddess bathed in the luminescence of the Green Sun. She’d seemed ethereal and beyond you.

Then, after the first few hours of sorting out living arrangements and watching Karkat roam around yelling for Gamzee to give the bodies back, she’d announced she was going to “sleep for a fucking week” and faceplanted into the nearest rug. Dave didn’t help beyond alchemizing some safety cones and setting them up around her. That had helped a little. So had seeing what her hair looks like in the mornings. “If you’re worried I have some unattainable vision of you set on a mental altar, rest easy. But you did restructure the multiverse with nothing but nerve, so I might still want your autograph a little.”

Rose brandishes the pen. “Only on the condition I get to sign your bra.” When you wave her away, she drops it on the pillow. “Spearheading the multiverse operation is one of my prouder accomplishments, I’ll admit, but my violet-tinged authorial prowess is entirely due to thinking I was hot shit as a pre-teen on the Internet. Besides, if we’re talking bragging rights, you fixed reality. Not to mention put up with us idiots for three years.”

“That was a struggle.” At times you’d wondered if you were the only one on the meteor keeping ahold of your wits. “Remember when the ceiling panels gave way and Gamzee fell onto the table?”

“Not our best group dinner. But you see, I’m a mess. You’re the one who has her act together.”

You frown. Being praised for your stability is a sore spot of yours. Yes, you’d been the one to bear everyone else’s struggles. That doesn’t mean you liked it. “I had to. Someone did. It got tiring after a while, though.”

Rose winces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. You shouldn’t have had to. But it is impressive that you did.”

“You were sick,” you say, in response to her apology.

You see her shoulder blades rise and fall in a muted shrug. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you should have had to deal with it.”

“I guess…” Maybe you’re the one who’s prompted her to speak up, but you struggle with your words too. Troll culture teaches you that open exchanges of feelings are for moirails. Palemates are the only people you can trust the depths of your soul to, if you can truly trust anyone at all. Humans don’t compartmentalize in the same way. You can see the benefits of that system, but you still fear saying the wrong thing will push her away. “You undercut yourself to tell me I’m better than I think I am. But if I’m already worried about measuring up to some standard, that just pushes us both lower. Do you see what I mean?”

“The self-deprecation’s not cute. Got it.” She twists around in what is probably some kind of advanced yoga pose to look you in the eye. “But you shouldn’t undersell yourself either, ok?”

When she doesn’t break eye contact, you nod reluctantly. “This is a very affirming argument we’re having.”

She reaches over and prods you with the pen. “I’m channeling Jake. Believe in yourself.”

You smile. “It’s hard to resist, these days.”

When you’re done for the evening, Rose captchalogues her laptop and you troop out. Everyone has their own room, but all of you tend to spend more of your nights in the common area curled up in armchairs or slumped over each other on sofas, within easy sight of each other when you wake from bad dreams. After a few weeks of intentionally lingering there until you fell asleep, you made it official and filled the whole room with soft materials like a huge communal pile. Terezi even taped up democratically-determined regulations. Rose spends some nights curled up next to you with her face shoved so close against your neck you wonder how she can breathe. Sometimes, though, she retreats to a corner with a pillow at her back like a wall. You know not to approach her then.

Tonight, she finds an empty patch of floor and drops down on it. You lower yourself next to her.

“Are you happy with the chapter now?” she asks.

“I’d like to give it another pass tomorrow, but it’s much better.”

“And everything else?”

“That’s better too.”

“Good.” She gives you a peck on the lips and, when Terezi wolfwhistles, flips her the bird and kisses you for real. You kiss her back, until… You pull away.

“Are you wearing my lip balm?”

“Maybe.” She purses the lips in question. “It’s got a good flavor.”

“I was wondering where that went. You know, you could have just asked to borrow it.” Grudgingly, anyway. She has a terrible habit of licking the stuff off and then reapplying it to start the cycle anew.

Rose raises an eyebrow. “You offered to do my laundry so you could steal my favorite shirt.”

You think, with only a modicum of guilt, of the shirt you have stashed behind the laundry basket in your closet. “It’s very soft.”

“I’m never getting that back, am I?”

“Probably not.”

She sticks her tongue out at you and pulls a blanket over her shoulders. “Night.”

“Good night,” you say. That’s the only endearment you exchange.

-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] -- GA: Karkat GA: Karkat Answer Your Phone I Know You Can See This GA: Youre Looking At It Right Now CG: YEAH I SURE AM. CG: I'M STARING AT THIS MARVELOUS HUNK OF PLASTIC AND ELECTRICITY IN MY HANDS AND REFLECTING ON HOW IT GRANTS US THE ABILITY TO COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER FROM ANY DISTANCE. CG: SUCH AS, FOR EXAMPLE, EIGHT FUCKING FEET AWAY. GA: This Is Private CG: I DIDN'T KNOW WE HAD A CONCEPT OF PRIVACY ANYMORE. CG: COLOR ME SURPRISED, SO SOME THINGS ABOUT OUR LIVES *AREN’T* SUPPOSED TO BE COMMON KNOWLEDGE? GA: It Might Help If You Spoke With Any Kind Of Discretion Or Volume Control CG: NOT AN OPTION. CG: CARRY ON. GA: Youve Watched A Lot Of Human Romances GA: What Is The Appropriate Interval Before Affirmations Of Matespritship Are Exchanged GA: You Know Like GA: Uh CG: "I LOVE YOU"? GA: Yes That CG: THE FIRST STEP IS BEING ABLE TO TYPE IT INTO A PRIVATE CHAT SESSION WITHOUT BLUSHING. CG: I CAN SEE YOU OVER THERE. GA: Dammit GA: What Is The Waiting Period Here Like Three Sweeps CG: SO I GUESS SHE HASN'T DONE IT YET? GA: Well GA: Not Sober GA: She Was Quite Eager To Confess Admiration While On Soporifics GA: To Everyone And Everything Including Inanimate Objects GA: Im Not Sure Such Exchanges No Matter How Heartfelt Can Be Considered Fully Genuine CG: YOU'RE IN LUCK, A LOT OF HUMAN FILMS COVER THIS IN DEPTH. CG: IF YOU WANT I CAN ARRANGE A VIEWING SESSION WITH SOME MORE INFORMATIVE SELECTIONS. GA: That Might Be Fun GA: But Mostly I Would Appreciate Some Friendly Advice GA: As Educational As Im Sure The Latest Work Starring Anne Hathaway Would Be CG: AN EXECUTIVE SUMMARY IS: CG: IT USUALLY DOESN’T TAKE THIS LONG. CG: BUT THE CHARACTERS INVOLVED ARE OLDER, THE SAME SPECIES, AND HAVEN’T BEEN THROUGH A WAR, SO IT’S NOT A REPRESENTATIVE SAMPLE. CG: ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT IT? GA: Not Exactly GA: I Know The Sentiment Is There GA: If Anything I Just Hope She Feels Comfortable Enough She Knows She Can Be Open With Me GA: Shes Trying But I Can Tell Its Still Difficult For Her CG: DAVE SAYS "its obvious shes crazy about you" SO NO WORRIES THERE. GA: Why Is Dave Part Of This Conversation CG: HE WALKED OVER AND LOOKED AT MY PHONE OVER THE BACK OF THE SOFA. CG: LIKE I SAID. PRIVACY = ZERO GA: Hi Dave CG: HE SAYS HI. GA: I Saw Him Wave GA: Now Tell Him To Go Away CG: AND HE’S GONE. CG: THE CHAT IS CLEAR OF FUTURE BROTHERS-IN-LAW. GA: Future What CG: THAT’S WHAT YOU’LL BE IF YOU AND ROSE GET "HUMAN MARRIED". CG: THE RITUAL MAKES YOU FAMILY WITH THEIR ENTIRE FAMILY. CG: I’M PRETTY SURE IT WAS HISTORICALLY DESIGNED TO ACQUIRE ECONOMIC AND POLITICAL ADVANTAGES. CG: YOU KNOW, KIND OF LIKE HOW INTERCASTE MOIRALLEGIANCES CAN AFFORD LOWER CASTES PROTECTION. CG: BUT IN MODERN TIMES MOSTLY IT MEANS YOU’RE STUCK WITH THOSE CHUCKLEFUCKS FOR LIFE AS A PACKAGE DEAL. GA: Oh No CG: OH YES. GA: Karkat I May Be Rethinking This Whole Venture CG: TOO LATE, I’M GOING TO BE YOUR BEST MAN. IT’S ALREADY DECIDED. GA: What Is A Best Man GA: Is It Whoever I Have Designated If I Were For Some Reason Obligated To Wed Someone Of That Gender CG: NO. CG: THE MOVIES AREN’T ENTIRELY CLEAR ABOUT THEIR ROLE, BUT IN GENERAL THEY GIVE HEARTFELT SPEECHES AND PROVIDE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT. GA: Maybe I Want Jake To Be My Best Man GA: He Can Recite Touching Monologues Ripped From The Silver Screen CG: YOU HAVE NO SAY IN THIS WHATSOEVER. CG: (YOU KNOW I’M JOKING, RIGHT?) GA: I Figured GA: Although I Wouldn’t Put It Past You To Try To Plan That Kind Of Thing Out For Me CG: HEY IF YOU EVER WANT IDEAS, I CAN THROW SOME OUT THERE. CG: YOU’RE WAY TOO YOUNG FOR THAT KIND OF THING THOUGH. CG: AND WE STILL HAVE TO GET YOU FROM POINT A TO POINT B, WHICH INVOLVES TRAVERSING THE ROCKY TERRAIN OF EMOTIONAL HONESTY, WITH WHICH I HAVE HAD NO PAST PROBLEMS AT ALL. CG: YOU COULD ALWAYS SAY IT FIRST YOURSELF I GUESS. CG: UNLESS YOU THINK THAT’LL MAKE HER EVEN MORE NERVOUS? GA: It Might GA: Outright Displays Of Emotion Embarrass Her She Relates It Too Much To Her Drunken Excesses And Those Of Her Mother GA: If I Can Be Permitted To Psychoanalyze Here GA: Shes Admitted As Much CG: THEN… LET HER KNOW SHE CAN FEEL COMFORTABLE? CG: THAT DOESN’T SOUND VERY EXCITING, BUT MAYBE IT DOESN’T HAVE TO. CG: THEY MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF IT IN THE MOVIES BUT I THINK AS LONG AS YOU’RE BOTH ON THE SAME PAGE WHETHER THOSE THREE EXACT WORDS HAVE ESCAPED YOUR QUIVERING CHUTE FLAPS DOESN’T MATTER ALL THAT MUCH. CG: THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO SHOW YOU CARE. I’M PRETTY SURE YOU’VE GOT THAT COVERED. CG: MOVIES AREN’T ALWAYS THAT REALISTIC ABOUT WHICH PARTS OF A RELATIONSHIP ARE A FEDERAL FUCKING ISSUE VERSUS WHICH PARTS ARE NEGOTIABLE. GA: !! CG: YEAH YEAH RUB IT IN. CG: SO I RELIED ON THEM A LOT, IT’S NOT LIKE I HAD MUCH PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. GA: I Shouldnt Criticize This Was Helpful GA: Thanks For Listening GA: And I Would Like To Watch Movies With You Sometime If That Offer Is Still On The Table CG: DEFINITELY. CG: I’LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN I’VE GOT A GOOD LINEUP PULLED TOGETHER.

A few days later, Rose wanders into your room unannounced and flops onto the bed. This isn’t uncommon behavior, so you keep sorting through your clean laundry. Her cat behaves similarly, insinuating himself into a room as if he belongs there. It’s a lazy confidence you envy. “We should go out,” she says, directing her words at the ceiling.

“We should?” you ask, holding two socks up to see if they match. They don’t, exactly, but they are a pair. Rose knitted them for you herself. They’re lumpy and awkwardly shaped, and you treasure them.

“We were going to do something fun after the game, remember? That was the plan. But we've both been sick, and outside is...” Rose waves toward the window and the world it serves as a barrier against. “Outside, so we haven't gotten around to it. But we should. You’ve been in your room a lot. It’ll do us both good.”

Drat. Your downturns aren’t as explosive as the others’. Sometimes you simply withdraw, spending more time on your own while a mental screen descends between you and the world, distorting it like a blur filter. There’s nothing wrong with you, exactly; it’s just that you don’t have the energy. That’s not bad, right? There are worse things than numbness. “What were you thinking we could do?”

She sits up halfway and then flops back down again. The pillows bounce. “I was hoping you'd have some ideas.”

You twist the socks together and toss them into the appropriate drawer. “The only thing I remember suggesting was outfits without sleeves.”

“Compelling, but not really something to make a date out of.” Rose frowns. “Have we ever... had a normal date? By regular people's standards?”

“Troll or human?” You shake your head. “I don't think any species would give us a passing grade.”

“Earthworms might be impressed.”

You pout. “You've never taken me to any good plots of soil.”

“We'll do that next time. For now, Jane said someone needs to do the shopping.”

“You know how to sweep me off my feet.”

Rose, still prone, waves a list in your direction. “It'll be fun. We get to pick which flavor of potato chips we want, and everyone else has to live with it.”

If Alternia had anything like supermarkets, they hadn’t spread near your oasis. For all that your caste can stand the sun, the electric lights hurt your eyes. They’re too bright – a harsh white that makes all the bright colors look flat and artificial. You reach for Rose’s hand, and she squeezes it. “I appreciate the support,” you say, “but I wanted to see the list.”

“Oh. Right.” She brings it up for both of you to consult. “Does Jade know how expensive beef is? She’s really running us through it.”

“She’s been talking about growing vegetables for the household. It’s too bad she can’t raise her own cows.”

“Don’t give her ideas. She wouldn’t be able to bring herself to butcher them, not after we’d named them all.” Rose leads you to the back of the store and scoops up slabs of meat packed into tidy foam and plastic containers. The setup is so clinical your residual rainbow drinker instincts don’t even twitch. It’s a far cry from the Alternian pastime of slicing your dinner up while it’s still wriggling. “We need milk,” she begins, and trails off after she pivots to the left. “It was that way in my old store. But they must not follow a common plan.”

Rose looks unmoored now that her navigational confidence has been broken. A lot of the humans are like this, wavering when their world doesn’t behave the way they think it should. It’s almost easier for those of you who expect foreign ways and customs. It’s harder to be a stranger in your own home. “We’ll wander,” you say, and steer her firmly by the shoulder.

By a combination of trial and error and studying signage like relics of a lost civilization, you manage to gather everything on the list. The only problem comes when you pass a series of shelves stacked with bottles, and Rose stiffens. It takes a moment for the pieces to fall into place – you’ve never seen wine packaged in its original containers before.

”Come on,” you say, linking your arm with hers. “Help me test which limes are ripest.”

You have to tug for a moment before she comes with you. You don’t think she’s planning to make a running leap for the vintage. If anything, she looks like she does when there’s an enemy sighted, wary and ready to spring. If she destroys several wine racks with a blast of divine light, that’ll probably go on your bill.

”Sorry,” she says, once you’ve made it to the produce section. “At my old store, it was in a separate room. Not out in the open.”

You lean toward her a little, so your shoulders press together. “It took you by surprise.”

She leans back. “Like pulling down your sheets and seeing a spider in your bed.” You see a dot of blood on her lower lip. She must have bitten it. “It must be harder for you. There’s no getting away from all that blood walking around on two legs.”

”It’s easier not to slip up, though.” You reach over with your free hand and dab at her cut, wiping the smear on the side of your shirt. “They’d make a fuss if I tried to sample it.”

”That’s what recovering alcoholics need.” She swipes at her mouth herself, but the wound is already closing. “Wine bottles that scream when you open them.”

”You’ve uncovered a new industry.”

”I need to patent it immediately.”

You squeeze her arm before letting go. If she’s making jokes, that’s a good sign.

Rose perks up when you’re heading toward the checkout. “Hang on. We have to stop by the natural foods section.”

”We do?” You check the list again. There’s nothing left on it.

”You never know,” she says. Now it’s her turn to drag you along. “The cure to all our life’s problems might be hiding next to the apricot kernels.”

Her tone is mocking. “Is there something wrong with natural products?”

”Not on their own. Jade says a lot of processed food upsets her stomach after growing up without it. But some people will pitch organic to you as the cure for cancer, and if you’re telling me you feed your four-year-old Goji berries instead of getting him vaccinated, I think you’ve opened yourself up to public disdain.” Rose plucks a box of tea off the shelf. “Look at this one. It says it’ll revitalize your body and restore harmony to your thoughts. All for twelve dollars, too.”

”Sounds like a deal.”

”It would have its work cut out for it with us. Hey, if I drink Sleepy Time and Stay Alert blends at the same time, what do you think will happen?”

”You’ll shed your corporeal form and ascend to a being of pure consciousness, and that would be a shame, because I like your face.” You retrieve the boxes and put them back before she decides to do product testing. “Apparently these exotic grains cure depression with their wholesome vitamins and minerals.”

”Buy the whole shelf.”

She’s right; some of these products are ridiculous. The two of you are giggling over asparagus water when a middle-aged woman pushes past you with her shopping cart. A highblood couldn’t look down their nose better. “Are you girls done with that?” she asks.

”Definitely,” Rose says, straight-faced. “I’d recommend it. It made us gay.”

Rose did the talking there, and you were too busy laughing to think of how to react. But when you get to the cashier, your tongue twists in your mouth. You stammer through pleasantries until Rose rescues you and completes the transaction. You drift away while she's collecting the bags, pretending to peruse the week's advertisement flier.

“She was pretty,” Rose says when she joins you, groceries in tow. “Is that why you were stuttering?”

You take half the bags from her. It would have been polite to help her carry them from the conveyor belt, but you needed to escape. “Was she? I didn't notice.”

She nudges you with a conspiratorial grin. “You don't have to play coy. I won't get jealous.”

“I'm not playing coy.” You shift one of the bags over your wrist, and something inside crinkles. Hopefully you didn’t break anything. “Her face was a blur. I panicked.”

Rose’s smile fades. “I’d forgotten you could be shy.”

The automatic doors whoosh open as the two of you approach. You sidestep a mother and her offspring going the other direction. “When you grow up on an oasis where your nearest neighbors are the shambling undead, you're a little cautious of strangers.”

“But willing to send them messages on Pesterchum questioning their intelligence and morals.”

She printed your first conversation logs off and stuck them to her wall, which you find equally endearing and annoying. Every time you see them, you itch to pull out a pen and make edits. “That's different. We weren't face to face. And... this is all new, here. I worry they'll be able to tell.”

“That they'll scream “Space invader!” and cart you off to a top secret facility?

”I’m sure it’s funny to you,” you say with a sniff, starting across the parking lot. “They won’t dissect you.”

She smiles again – you meant her to; the dissection at least was a joke. “I get nervous too. Not as much now after everything we’ve been through, but I’ve always been hyperaware of social situations. But I tend to take the ‘don't get scared; get angry’ approach.”

You recall how she marched up to the conveyor belt and slammed down her purchases. “I did wonder if you were going to challenge the salesperson to a strife.��

“Chalk it up to the childhood narcissism. I always felt like everyone was passing judgment.”

You accidentally make eye contact with a man stepping out of his vehicle and redirect your gaze at Rose’s collarbone. “Like everyone's watching.”

She nods. “And that's not true. They have their own problems and couldn't care less what we do. We're not important to them. In this case, that's reassuring.”

You’re surprised she finds it comforting. You’re happy to fade into the background; Rose likes to be noticed. You’d never realized it frightened her too. “What a pair we make,” you say.

“Between us, we add up to one functional person.”

You pull open the car door for her with a flourish. “I'd be generous and say at least 1.5.”

A few of the humans have been working to get their licenses so Jane’s father doesn’t have to drive them everywhere. Rose only has a permit, but that doesn’t stop her from using the car. Seer powers let her know if there’s likely to be trouble, but otherwise she drives like she’s got a grudge against the pavement. She peels out of the parking spot and then slams on the brakes. You hug a carton of eggs to your chest so they don’t splatter against the windshield. “What is it?”

”We have cold bags for everything, right?”

”Yes.” It was overkill for a short trip, but you prefer to be prepared.

She pulls into the store’s partner gas station while you wave apologetically at the elderly woman she just cut off. “This is a date. We’re going to get coffee.”

The coffee machine is broken, so you both get 99 cent slushies and sit on the curb next to the free air pump. The parking spot is empty save for a mulch of cigarette butts and ripped up Lotto tickets. Rose slurps some of her concoction out of a straw. It’s a murky mess, and you spotted her squirting a few shots of energy drink in for good measure. You spent several minutes painstakingly creating a rainbow pattern and are now trying to drink evenly to keep the layers intact. A bag of chips slumps half-empty between you. They’ll complain about that back home, but it’s their fault for not coming along to supervise.

Rose sucks on her straw with a noise like a drain unclogging. “How’s this for romance and adventure?”

“I could do it again,” you say. And you could. The encounter with the cashier still leaves you shaken, but the haze has peeled off the world. It’s funny how after everything you’ve been through, something as simple like this can be energizing. There are groceries in the car that need to get back and a household worth of responsibilities to keep up with, but right now it could just be the two of you setting off on some new adventure. Rose has always made you feel that way. Light players make the world narrow around them, drawing in attention, compressing possibility. They’re a lantern you bump against, entranced. With Rose, you’ve found one that doesn’t burn.

”Well shit, these were ninety-nine cents.” She smirks in the way that means you’ve missed a joke. “I think our budget can afford it.”

”Thank you for dragging me out here.” Lurking in your room seems silly now. “It helps, borrowing your confidence.”

”It’s a show,” she says. “I don’t know how you manage to seem so centered all the time.”

”Amateur theatrics,” you say. “One functional person, here we are.” She raises her drink in a toast, and you knock them together. ”I mean it, though,” you continue. “It’s nice, the way you turn things into adventures. Even if it’s a shopping trip, I don’t know where we’re going to end up. It’s unpredictable, but I like it. I like spending time with you.”

She smiles and looks away. Whenever you’ve successfully induced emotions, she never wants to look you in the eye. “That slushy must have made an impression.”

”It was good.” You flick the straw, sending drops of condensation scattering across the asphalt. “We didn’t have anything like this at home, at least not where I grew up. That might explain part of the rapturous response. But mostly I think it’s because I love you.”

Rose stills. That might be a bad sign, but you’ve gotten yourself into this situation, so you might as well keep going. “I’m not trying to corner you,” you say, looking down at your knees. “I know you have difficulty expressing some things. But I wanted to express that. Right now.”

When you sneak a look over, her shoulders are shaking. The ice from your drink solidifies in your stomach until you realize she’s laughing.

”Do you know how long I’ve been agonizing over this?” she asks.

”I knew why,” you begin. “Your mother…” That’s not a complete sentence, but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes you want to ask John to transport you into Rose’s past so you can grab the woman by her shoulders and shake her. “How could you be so careless?” you want to demand. “Didn’t you realize what you were doing?” You are all the results of what has been done to you, combined with your attempts to overcome it. Even with your universes gone, their impressions remain as indelible parts of you. You wouldn’t want Rose to be anything other than who she is, but that doesn’t stop you from wishing she could have gotten something better growing up.

“That was what started it.” Rose takes a gulp of her drink. The humor drains from her voice. Now she’ll look you in the eye. “She’d vanish into her laboratory or a drunken stupor and leave me to fend for myself. The first time I tried cooking spaghetti I set off the fire alarm. I couldn’t get it to stop until I climbed up on a chair and took the batteries out. She slept through the whole thing. So when she turned up with a new present, how could I believe it was sincere? And even if it was, it didn’t make up for anything. If all you can give is the trappings of love, like you’ve bought out a Valentines’ clearance sale but can’t be damned to raise your own child, it doesn’t count.” She sloshes the remains of her drink around with one hand and watches it like she’s reading tea leaves. “So I guess I distrusted all of it. The glitz, the performance, anything. Even the words. Because if you do it right, they should know. But… in the past I’ve been guilty of overcorrecting.”

“Really?” You try to keep your tone teasing. Anything else might alarm her.

She elbows you in the ribs, but not hard. “Sometimes I’ve turned the wheel a bit and drifted over the dividing line between reasonable responses and terrible decisions by a few millimeters.”

“I think a driving instructor might say you sailed over the median, engaged with oncoming traffic, and left the highway entirely for parts unknown. What?” you add. “I’ve read the manual you’re all practicing from.”

“Five dollars says you pass the test before I do. After the timeline John made unhappen, I realized I’d never told you. For all the wrong, stupid reasons. I shouldn’t have let any of that stop me. I would’ve died with that as one of my greatest regrets. So I wanted it to be perfect, since I made you wait so long.” She covers her mouth with one hand and smiles through her fingers. “God, you should see my search history. I watched promposal videos, although I wiped all that data and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone. And here we are –” she pauses and shakes her head - “in a gas station parking lot. But you know what? I think it fits.” She slings an arm around your shoulders and plants a sticky kiss on your cheek. “I love you. Let’s make it count.”

This is what you have learned from dating Rose Lalonde. Expect your lives to accumulate the clutter of experiences together – receipts and stolen shirts and empty packages still streaked with frosting. Expect to make missteps, because the two of you are walking an uncharted path one step after another. Sometimes you fall, fight your demons, and climb back up again. You are all doing this for the first time.

Expect her to say she loves you in unexpected ways. A new package of lip gloss left on your pillow. A flower pressed between the pages of a heavy book to make it delicate and perfect. Occasionally, the words.

Make it count.

#trying this one last time #kat writes fic #dare i put it in the tags....#nah #homestuck/

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