#on the machine anyway. nothings stopping me from hand knitting i just dont feel like it.

[ssspringroll]

oughghh actually would die 4 a custom functional knitting machine object. one day maybe if i ever have some cash ill commission somebody for that lol

[slashingdisneypasta]

Ram Sweeney x Reader || Headcanons

Topic: Dating HC's

Notes:

*Sigh*... I write regularly write for creeps like Freddy Krueger and Offenderman... and am one of the few tumblrs that write for Sheriff Hoyt romantically... and yet Kurt and Ram are my real guilty pleasure characters.

Anyway I hope someone other then me wanted this XDD I'm gonna do a Kurt one too.

Warnings: Some NSFW but not explicit.

Your song: The Way I Loved You (Taylor Swift)

He respects my space and never makes me wait

And he calls exactly when he says he will

He's close to my mother, talks business with my father

He's charming and endearing and I'm comfortable

...

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

And it's 2:00 a.m. and I'm cursing your name

So in love that you act insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breakin' down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kinda rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

You two as a TV/Movie/Book couple: Bianca Piper and Wesley Rush (The DUFF)

Having the kind of relationship that no one else understands at all. Like, you have nothing in commen except commen history and your feelings for each other (Which are, on the other hand, totally clear to everyone) but when you're together you're always laughing and being affectionate.

Being in an on and off relationship throughout middle school and highschool- but never and I repeat; Never, is anyone permitted to mess with you at all. Because Ram always considers you his, even when you arent together.

So yeah, you always have 2 (Ram, and Kurt) large football star bodyguards at your disposal.

Being very playful together.

SOOOOoooooo much PDA. Including: Making out in the hallways and at school events like football games (You dont care who sees), sitting in his lap or at least squished close to his side at lunch, him throwing you over his shoulder to carry you places, him giving you piggy back rides, him picking you up and twirling you around, him just standing behind you with his arms around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder when he's bored (With everything but you), his arm being over your shoulders as you walk together, you wiping peanut butter on his nose to get a rise out of him and then running away so he'll chase you, you peppering his face with kisses to make him laugh, etc.

Having a turbulent relationship. Because while, when all is well you two are like peanut butter and jelly and seem like the perfect highschool sweethearts, when you arent it's because Ram has gotten really jealous over something and called you a terrible name (Skank, whore, slut, bitch- any of those) or you understandably got irritated by his bullying and/or being a perverted, sexist asshole and you have huge, blow out fights in the middle of school and by the end of the period the whole student body knows about it.

You give him the silent treatment and the cold shoulder after those (If you didnt break up, that is) and he sends Kurt to give you messages.

When you make up its because he sincerely apologises although he doesn't 100% understand what he did wrong which becomes part of the next fight.

As you've been together so very long, he is basically part of your fucking family. He's so familiar and casual with your parent/s and/or sibling/s. They love him so much that, whether you're with him at the time or not, they allow him into the house and your bedroom with a cup of tea and snacks. (Its the 'American dream' popular-boy / football-star thing.)

So yeah, sometimes when you're mad at him or he wants to get back together (Which generally you want to do, to. You honestly have the same biological timer. Its like, 3 weeks pass by of being broken up and then ding ding ding! You both get the feelings its time to get back together and start sharing grins in the hallway and talking to your friends about eachother) you'll just find him waiting for you in your room when you come home.

Hanging out a looooooot with Kurt. Movie nights at your place, hanging out at the mall together on weekends sneaking out to see them at the football field at night time, etc. When you're sad, they'll both turn up wherever you are to cheer you up, too! Goofballs.

This does not mean there arent times where Ram shoo's Kurt off, though, when you two want some alone time together (*Eyebrow wiggles*) because of course. I'm just saying, you're a close-knit group.

When you are alone together, not much changes from when you're around others honestly XD You're still just as playful and affectionate. You just, you know, also have sex.

When he's down, you rusk your graceful image and climb through his bedroom window to be there with him. You dont fuck, you dont even really kiss. You just climb into bed with him and he'll tuck you under his chin and close his eyes. Legit old married couple. And you two sleep- by morning, he usually feels better and refuses to let you get out of bed with him.

"Five more minutessssss, babe!" He whines, holding you against him and pressing kisses to your head. You know he'll just say that again in 5 minutes time- and over, and over, and over again.

"Oh- no. I've been caught in this trap before Ram. We have school, so we have to get up. Come on!" You push firmly at his stomach (or abs) with your fists; not that that does much as he just just groans or gathers your little wrists in one big fist to stop you (Either way he certainly doesn't even flinch). His eyes are still closed. You sigh.

Now you have two choices, you can either give in and snuggle back into him for the rest of the morning, or threaten to send an attack towards his groin and he'll literally fling himself outta bed. Like "OH LOOK AT THE TIME- Kurt's gonna be waiting for us outside. Lets go!"

There are also mornings that you wake up with him (No sad Ram the night before necessary) and are all too happy to stay there with him. You just adorably nod into his chest, eyes still closed and making the cutest half-asleep morning sound when he asks if you wanna stay here a bit longer and he happily pulls the blanket over both your heads; shielding you both from the real world for a while.

OKAY MOVING ON FROM THAT FLUFFINESS.

You are also the only person who has any sort of control over him and Kurt. Like you can take them down a few pegs with just a look.

You two do date other people when you're broken up but its clear to anyone watching that these are just nice place holders for eachother. Neither of you are ever as happy with others as you are with eachother. You're ridiculously in love, actually.

Ypu were the first one to say I Love You, and he immediately called Kurt for guidance XD

Places you've had sex (Because it is always the full monty with Ram): Both your bedrooms so so so many times, the school bathrooms, his car, Kurts car (Kurt was NOT pleased.), the back of the football field, under the bleachers during a game or pep rally (he was benched for being too violent) + under the bleachers during practise + under the bleachers when the football field is deserted, the back of the school, the faculty parking lot at school, Kurts and Heather Chandler's houses (Parties. Basically a Westerburg High party is not complete without Y/N L/N and Ram Sweeney breaking in someones bed), his parent's car, the woods, cow pasture (a picnic blanket was used), and finally some mall changing rooms.

You leave him messages on his answering machine. He listens to every one of them (Which means something because he doesnt listen to anyone elses, unless he's gotta get through them to get to yours).

Him being SUCH a jealous asshole (With everyone except Kurt).

HIM STANDING UP TO THE HEATHERS FOR YOU.

#PromKingAndQueen

Having Kurt "Smartest guy on the football team," Kelly be your (Occasionally, live in- yes, he has slept over with the two of you on the floor so he could break up fights) couples councellor. Often his advice is 'fuck it out' but he also comes up with oddly wise shit sometimes. Mostly he's just very exasperated though. Like, its obvious you two are gonna end up together- stop bothering me with this shit. Let me get some pussy for myself guys please-

You two getting a bit frisky on movie nights with Kurt and he throws stuff at you. He just starts bringing a pool noodle (That he drew an angry face onto) along with him and hitting y'all with it whenever he feels its necessary. Cuz I mean, on one hand, of course he's happy for his bro Ram that he's getting his dick wet, but on the other- ITS FUCKIN MOVIE NIGHT, PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER FOR T W O S E C O N D S (Oh the irony- it does indeed escape him). He'll park his ass right in the middle of you two if you keep it up.

If he had survived, you and Ram would have broken up after graduation and spent college apart, before bumping into each other again back home as new (Improved. Especially him) people that fit together better now and ended up getting back together for good.

[dolphin-enthusiast]

Hey bro, I hope you're doing well🥺💖 if your hcs are open, could you do hcs with bucci gang and a s/o getting catcalled/street harassed (only if this is not a trigger for you obviously)? I am upset 🙂🙂🙂...ANYWAy I love you sOoo much Morgane

This is extremely late my apologies but dw I don’t mind writing for sensitive topics such as this one!!! Behavior like this absolutely enrages me and you have all the rights to be upset because it’s fuckin vile. It goes without saying but tw harassment yadda yadda.

Bruno:

- He’s usually freakishly good at masking his true feelings and overall keeping his calm under pressure, but if he were to actually witness you getting catcalled he’s going to go lowkey sicko mode. His motherly/protective instincts kick in and he’s instantly death glaring the person who dared wrong you like that right on his weary watch. Honestly he’d feel like throwing a fit even if it didn’t happen before his very eyes. No, he’d be EVEN more enraged if you’d just come home one day and tell him that since he wasn’t there to intervene.

- At this point he doesn’t even have to do much, all that it takes is for Bruno to shoot said person a quick murderous glare then tell them to beat it and they’ll instantly fuck off not even 2 seconds later. After they are out of scene, he flips back to his usual calm and polite self (the d u a l i t y of man) as he proceeds to check up on you by asking if that asshole’s words managed to get to you. Hell, this man is going to be comforting you for hours and wouldn’t let go of you unless you were absolutely certain you were feeling at least just a little better.

- No matter your response, Bruno is going to pull you into his arms and firmly let you know that he’ll never let anyone hurt you. As long as he lives and he’s by your side he’s going to fight whoever dares to bother you, you have his absolute word for it. Normally he’d at first try solving the issue through diplomatic means but there’s just something about catcalling that utterly enrages him and makes him lose control for a few seconds, let alone if it’s his partner we’re talking about. Tl;dr: dont fucking make the mistake of wronging his s/o, he’ll fucking end you.

Giorno:

- Just like Bruno, but 3 times more menacing if that’s even possible. If Bruno managed to hold himself back just a bit and didn’t let his anger COMPLETELY consume him in that moment, our dear aries right here is quite the opposite. Sure it’s not like he’s going to throw said person into a death loop of despair (although that’s the first thing that would cross his mind), but in that second Gio wouldn’t really be able to mask his emotions like he usually does.

- If it happened before his eyes, that person is as good as dead. He merely steps in between you two, hooks an arm around your waist and “kindly” asks said person to repeat themselves since he’s not sure whether he heard them correctly or not the first time. At this point the person in question would already be getting lowkey uneasy since Gio’s aura and overall presence would be goddamn menacing, and so they’d be beating it in due time after he throws them a cold glare and tells them to never speak to you in this way ever again.

- Akin to Bruno, he’d revert back to his usual calm self right after that asshole leaves then ever so gently he’d check up on you and tell you that you should ignore their dirty, meaningless words and that he’ll be there to protect you always. That day Gio would try his best at keeping you preoccupied and cheering you up since he wouldn’t want you to think of this experience again. He’d put on an unbothered mask for you but deep down he’d still be fuming at the thought of another person just...insulting someone like that. Not only a random someone, but HIS beloved.

Abbacchio:

- Straight up shoves his fist in front of their face, I ain’t even joking. The second he hears them whistling and saying some dumb dirty shit he’s instantly walking over to them whilst seeing fucking red and asking if they have a problem with HIS partner. As said person would desperately try explaining themselves, Abbacchio would merely scowl then threaten to beat the fuck out of them if they don’t fuck outta here in the next 3 seconds.

- He’d be highkey scary threatening that person like that but would then try calming himself down in order to be able to actually think rationally again and check up on you. By the time he’d walk over you and grab your shoulders whilst asking if you’re alright, poor Abba would still be breathing heavily, his cheeks tinted red from the previous intense anger episode. He’d immediately escort you away from the place where the harassment happened as he’d keep reassuring you that you’re safe now with him here.

- That day Abba would keep replaying that episode inside his head over and over because he simply cannot understand how someone could just speak to a stranger in such a horrible way, and the thought of you getting insulted like that is enough to send him into a fit of anger, let alone if you were actually touched by said person. He’s absolutely ready to square up for you 25/8 and, although he’s not the best with words, he’s going to make sure that you’re feeling better and would keep cuddling and comforting you for as long as you need in an attempt to make you forget about the incident.

Mista:

- Makes a damn scene and rightfully so. He’s already a very touchy guy even in public, so the fact that the person in question clearly saw the both of you together and STILL decided to hit on you absolutely enrages him. Hell, even if you were alone what do they think gives them the right to talk to someone else like that??? Mista cannot wrap his head around it and at this point he doesn’t even try to anymore, he’s full on f u m i n g. He already took on some fuckers that were harassing a poor woman in the past and will gladly do it again for his partner.

- Whether he was there when it happened or not, you bet your ass that Mista is going to go on a rant and insult that person’s entire bloodline, mostly using italian curse words of course. He’d hate himself for not being there to properly protect you if it happened when you were alone, but if we’re talking about him actually WITNESSING that scene then it’s game fucking o v e r. Mista would just go like “O I” then waltz towards that rude ass with his fist clenched and brows tightly knitted together in sheer anger. He’d be screaming his ass off at that person telling them to never get near you again, calling them out on their bs right in front of everyone else on the damn street.

- He wouldn’t be afraid to legit fight them whilst everyone was watching either so you’d most likely have to drag his ass away from there or else he’d end up fucking killing them or something. Mista would need some time to come down from his rage episode but when he does he’s going to be apologizing over and over for his outburst, quite literally crushing you into his arms afterwards and trying not to fucking cry whilst telling you how much he loves you and how he’s going to beat up anyone else that tries wronging you like that again. Expect him to be EVEN more clingy than usual for the next few hours as well since he can get v e r y protective over you.

Fugo:

- As expected, probably the one that erupts the worst. If you thought Mista and Abbacchio threw a scene honey you ain’t seen s h i t. The second he hears that person call out to you in an insulting way he’s violently whipping his head around towards them, his jaw clenched and hands trembling with anger. In that second said person knows they F U C K E D U P because Fugo starts screaming his ass off and calling them all sorts of colorful insults.

- Just like in Mista’s case you’d have to hold him down or else he can and WILL kill them. Fugo has absolutely 0 patience and regard for people that do this also because of personal reasons, so it would almost be ptsd inducing for the poor man. Not only would he be utterly enraged with such behavior directed at a total stranger (who also happened to be his beloved mind you), but it would also remind him of some past experiences he wished he could forget. 

- Afterwards Fugo will be unusually clingy and significantly more open with his feelings, telling you over and over how he’ll stop at nothing to protect you and constantly expressing his love for you through gentle touches and soft words. He’s normally extremely shy when it comes to showing affection, but after this he’d feel an overwhelming need to be there for you and comfort you through your distress, swearing that he’ll protect you no matter what and that you shouldn’t care for such heinous comments coming from an uneducated rude ass.

Narancia:

- At first is flabbergasted and tries to process what that person just said. Did he hear that right?? Are they really serious?? Did they really just dare to mess with Y O U???? That’s it, Narancia is angrily stomping towards the scene, throwing an arm around your shoulders whilst straight up bullying your harasser for their disgusting behavior. Now if said person tries mocking him that would be their last mistake because Narancia can and WILL throw goddamn fists regardless of who’s watching.

- He’ll tell off anyone that bothered you then smother you in hugs and spoil you with anything you wanted in an attempt to cheer you up. He’s also a surprisingly good listener so you can pretty much pour your heart out at him for he will sit through it all then proceed to comfort and hug you plenty. He may be smol but Narancia has no fear of fighting for his close ones, so he’ll let you know that whenever someone else starts bs you should immediately call him.

- He doesn’t like dwelling in the negative feelings and will instruct you on doing the same. Basically, he’ll try getting your mind off of things to the best of his abilities and is going to constantly be encouraging and reassuring you. Narancia is pretty much a walking serotonin machine who will be your emotional support human as well as your “bodyguard” because he really likes to pride himself in protecting and keeping you safe.

[roseamongroses]

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

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

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

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

(Ao3) (Previously)

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

(16) (17) (18) 

L: I May Have Lost Roman

V: nice

P: not nice :)

V: i feel vaguely threatened

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

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

L:Hold on lemme ask Dmitri

V: why is he there

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

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

Rem: that’s pretty fair

P: it really is tbh

V: Send. Pictures.

L: Okay L: Slight Issue

V: you lost the snake too

L: I lost Dmitri too and Nieve is not spilling

Rem: oh they’re defeinately fucking

L:...Where? The bathroom?

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

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

L: Alright time to find them

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

L: Remy.

Rem: alrighlright too far ill stop

L: Thank you.

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

L:Huh L:Found them

L: Roman….found a katanna…

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

Rem: drop the location of that store man

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

L…..and Dmitri looks more amused then concerned

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

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

V: goddamit logan you cant logic roman.

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dmitri’s eyes went wide, stomach sinking.

His Aunt’s grin spread, “Oh really?”

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck--

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

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

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

He stopped eating, setting his plate aside.

He felt sick.

---

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

L: Roman?

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

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

R: why are YOU up mm????

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

R: well fuck got me there

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

L: Any particular reason?

R: u m

L: Private chat?

R: please

- [TheTruthAboutTheMoon]

TheWalkingMouth: Okay shoot

Cowboy:it's stupid

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

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

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

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

TheWalkingMouth: Why would you say something shitty?

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

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

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

Cowboy: when i fuck up i

Cowboy: god it's stupid

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

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

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

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

TheWalkingMouth: Ah okay, rant away

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

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

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

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

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

TheWalkingMouth: Teaching for either biology or physics

Cowboy: huh it fits but what about chemistry??

TheWalkingMouth: Fuck chemistry.

Cowboy: oh thank god we’re on the same page

TheWalkingMouth: Anyway, I assume you’re more worried about whether you should apply rather then if you could get in?

Cowboy: i think so

TheWalkingMouth: Well if my opinion means anything to you

Cowboy: more than you’re assuming but yeah continue

TheWalkinMouth: Wait

Cowboy: nothing nothing continue

TheWalkingMouth: Okay-- I think you should go for it but you don’t need to dive head first into it and commit to everything 100% like virgil did.

TheWalkingMouth: You’re allowed to keep your options open, to have backup plans for back up plans

TheWalkingMouth: It doesn’t mean you’re not passionate about your art. Doesn’t mean you’re inevitably going to get a office job and abandon all your dreams. It means you’re being smart and not backing yourself into a corner

TheWalkingMouth:It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay not to have it all figured out

TheWalkingMouth: Nobody does.

TheWalkingMouth: Even if no one else gives you a second chance at least give yourself a second chance.

TheWalkingMouth: It’s perfectly normal to be afraid to fuck up and get fucked over TheWalkingMouth: That doesn’t mean you will everytime TheWalkingMouth: And it certainly doesn’t mean it's the end

Cowboy:

Cowboy:

Cowboy:

[...Cowboy is typing…]

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

[shipmvns]

Closure From The Great Streetlight God

its the one year anniversary of this fic. dont call me sentimental. the universe wants maya dead

Pairing: Riley/Maya Words: 2,332 Summary:  Perhaps there's a lesson to be learned from us all about horror stories and miracles in between the monotonous drone of everything else, which is really just to say that if there's some great terrible cliche moral to be learned from being alive and dying, too, then really, it can wait until the end. 

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE  PART FOUR  PART FIVE  PART SIX  PART SEVEN  PART EIGHT PART NINE  PART TEN PART ELEVEN

ALTERNATIVELY, READ IT ON AO3/LEAVE A COMMENT

But then he stops you before you can even start, earthy dirt choking you up in the back of your throat, standing in the street outside your apartment in a prom dress that’s a little torn and a little wet and definitely ruined forever, now, and he’s holding your shaking shoulders, and you don’t know if he’s listening to you.

“But that didn’t happen, right?” He prompts you, voice soft, slight nod. You swallow hard. He might be patronizing you. Probably not, though. You think he’s mostly probably just trying to be nice, because come on, it’s Farkle, and he’s known her almost as long as you have, and he cares almost as much as you do, and he’s probably a lot more practical than you are, anyways.

You nod, choked sob and all, and his grip relaxes on your shoulder.

“I know it scared you, but she’s fine, all right? Right? She started going, but they got her back. So it’s okay. And you’re remembering it all wrong, Riles. It’s not like she’s actually been in a coma that long, it’s only been a couple weeks,” he says, breathing slow and even, like he’s trying to teach you how to do it yourself. He sounds awfully sincere.

You breathe, ragged and slow. Your explanations of things may be all out of order, but you’re too caught up on the what-ifs to care, because it may have only been just a little before prom, but what if it was longer? What if it ends up longer? You can’t get it out of your head, and that makes it hard to care about what you are and aren’t imagining in your great retelling of the end of your life.

“It’s not okay,” You express, dragging your knuckle across your cheeks like a child, hiccupping slightly as you try to catch your breath. You must be quite the sight right now, the two of you. “It’s not. Because she’s still in a coma, and she crashed, and they got her back but they might not have, and she could have died, and I wouldn’t have been there, because I would have been kissing some greasy upperclassmen in the corridor while eight Juniors got drunk in the girls room, instead of being there for her!” Your voice cracks against your will, and you shove some hair that’s fallen loose out of your face.

“Riley. Hey. I know you love Maya, but life doesn’t stop just because she can’t be with you every step of the way. She could have died, but she didn’t, and you can’t tear yourself up about what might have happened,” he promises you, but it doesn’t really deliver you much comfort.

“I was supposed to protect her,” you sputter mournfully. “I promised her I would save her and it’s my fault,” you lower yourself to the cement, rapping your arms around yourself. He meets you there on his knees.

He’s more forceful this time, wills you to meet his eyes. “No, it’s not.” He pauses, looks upward, as if asking the big streetlight in the sky for guidance when dealing with a sobbing fifteen-year-old girl, then comes back down after a beat, heavy sigh and all, dark eyes meeting your own. “It was Maya’s.”

You pause, taken aback, wondering if you should punch him or cry, but a weary grin is making its way onto his face. “She stole her mom’s car because she was too jealous to let you explain a misunderstanding. She- she doesn’t even know how to drive, Riley. And, really, doesn’t that sound exactly like something Maya would do?” He shrugs, helpless to the bare truth in his statement, and he begins to laugh.

You take a minute, but then offer a watery chuckle in return, but soon his laughs as echoing, tinny and sharp in the empty night, and before you know it, both of you are laughing on the ground, rain pooling around you, prom dress and all.

Eventually, Monday comes, and you do your best to avoid that upperclassman that you cried after kissing, but it’s not hard. School is coming to a screeching close, and you and Farkle study for finals every other day. On your off days, you visit Maya. Farkle comes, too, if he can. On the days Farkle comes, you talk to him. On the days he doesn’t, you talk to Maya.

While you should be throwing yourself into studying about algebraic equations and the Watergate scandal, you instead throw yourself into studying about the Glasgow Coma Scale and Apallic Syndrome.

You learn about pupils in coma patients, and how the way that they react to light can predict the prognosis for the patient, so you tell Farkle you want to go alone, and bring your father’s miniature flashlight from his keychain.

When you make it there, you wait until there aren’t any nurses in the halls, and then you lift her left eyelid open. You flinch, if only for a moment; it’s the first time you’ve seen her eyes in weeks. You shake your head, as if that will physically save you from the jarring notion in your chest, then take the flashlight and hold it up to her eyes.

You take a painful breath; her eyes dilate. You might start crying from relief, but the blaring of her machines jolts you backwards, and you scurry out unnoticed as doctors pile in, chaotic symphony against the sound of her tachycardic heart.

After a while, you’ve started drawing lines with your uncut nails in the arm of the hospital chair, and the only thing that manages to stop you is the sight of a familiar doctor standing over you. He told you, once, when you thought that the world would end, that his name was Henry.

He looks at you expectantly, and when you say nothing, he starts for you, instead. “She… isn’t dead,” and he sounds almost helpless, looking down at you, eyebrows knitted together. “She should be,” he tells you, after a long breath. “She… by all means, medically… should be dead. And, uh, I’ve been going over it in my head, for a while, now thinking of all of the reasons… any reason, why this kid wouldn’t be dead. At all, but especially her, and especially by now. I mean, she really should be dead,” he strings together words like he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to convey to you.

“Why are you telling me this?” You look up at him, voice hoarse. Does he think he’s making you feel better?

“Well- I’ve been going over it in my mind. So have all of the other surgeons, even. And, uh, they all chock it up to something like a miracle? That’s.. what we call it, in science, in medicine, when something doesn’t make sense. When a tumor disappears. When a girl who should be dead is doing surprisingly all right. They’re all calling it a miracle,” he peers down on you, but he sounds incomplete, like he needs to go further, trudge along with whatever else he has to say.

“A miracle,” you repeat, knitting your hands together, not breaking his gaze.

“That’s what they’re saying about it,” he nods, shifting uncomfortably. “But… I don’t think it is,” he looks at you sideways. “I think.. I think that it’s you. I mean, I’m the one who’s been on her case, since the first car accident, to this one. And she shouldn’t be alive, and, uh, she doesn’t… Doesn’t really strike me as a super lucky kid. All things considered,” he tells you.

You stay silent.

“So I… It’s not exactly scientific, or a diagnosis, but I think that it might be you. I think… she’s struggling like hell to not be dead, even if she should be. And I think it might be you.”

He looks from side to side. You wouldn’t know how to respond if words could meet your lips, anyways. So instead, you just nod, and hope that he gets it, and then you wander home, the picture of Maya’s eyes still bright in your mind.

Everyone is worried about you, and you wish it would stopping, because obviously, the comatose girl is the more pressing issue, here. Still, you can’t fight the nagging feeling that you can’t live without her, and you can’t ward off the fear that grows in your chest each time you go to see her. It’s easier with Farkle, but he’s not there, today, and so she’s your only company, and it scares you, seeing Maya be so, so quiet.

Still, though, everything Henry said to you lingers in your head, and you find yourself rambling over her bed, begging her to stay alive.

“Maya, you can’t do this. You can’t be like this. You’re Maya Hart, nothing that a car can kill. It tried once, remember? Remember? But you didn’t die, not then, and not again, when your brain started bleeding. So you’re not just going to- to die, here, in a stupid hospital, because you thought it would be a good idea to drive! You can’t drive!” You sputter, gripping at her sheets, looking at her, broken and bruised, completely still in front of you.

“You shouldn’t have run off in the first place,” you reprimand her unmoving body, “that was stupid! Why did you have to run off, why do you always do that, Maya? Why can’t you ever listen to me, why do you always have to go off and try to destroy yourself?!” You struggle, and you find yourself crying once again, sucking in ragged breaths, halfway past hyperventilating.

“You can’t die here, Maya! You have to wake up, because I can’t do this without you!”

Maya, in turn, says nothing.

You don’t stop visiting her, because you aren’t petty enough to hold a grudge over someone in a coma for giving you the silent treatment. You wish Farkle was here, but he isn’t, and you’re curled up in the chair next to her with a science book, trying to define what a plume is, when there’s a blip on her heart monitor.

Your own heart stops, because afterall, didn’t you always want to be like Maya? And your eyes first go to the monitor, then to her, and your breath hitches entirely when you see that her eyes are flitting open.

You say nothing, do nothing, are nothing at all as she blinks, and her eyes slowly focus in on her surroundings, unfocused and confused. After a very long, very silent beat, in which you are nothing more than a shell of a person, she dramatically whips her head back and croons, as if part of a soap opera: “Oh, Riley, how long have I been out?”

You start crying, and don’t really think that you’ll ever stop.

Eventually, your friendly neighborhood doctor comes back in, and explains to you that the coma had mainly been cause by a swelling in her brain, and her organs needing to heal back to a more functional state. The worry for survival had mainly been infection, or her body giving out and not furthering its healing, causing death or a permanent vegetative state. Now that she’s awake and verbally functioning, with little to no memory loss, her prognosis is good.

“How much school did I miss?” Maya inquires as you toss your textbook towards your bookbag, moving towards her for yet another embrace as the doctor leaves the room.

“Two weeks,” you tell her. “You missed prom. You almost died on prom night, actually. Then the doctor told me that you should be dead,” you give a tearful laugh.

“I almost died on prom night. Cool,” She nods, but she’s playing clumsily with her hands, and you can tell that something is bothering her, because she won’t quite meet your eyes, and it’s starting to hurt.

She looks up suddenly. “Hey, um, Riles?” She gazes at you from her hospital bed. You look at her with open eyes. She could say just about anything right now, and you would take it with a smile. “I don’t think we should... be around each other, anymore,” she rushes out, quiet, as if she’s trying to relay the meaning without actually saying it.

“What?!” She could say just about anything, except, of course, for that.

“Well.. listen, all of this bad shit keeps happening to me, all of the time, and I don’t want you to have to see me get hurt, or die, even, or worse, get dragged into it, get hurt yourself. I just want you to be safe, and the world obviously has some kind of vendetta against me, so…” she tries.

You will have none of it. “Maya. Listen to me. Look me in the eyes. Okay? That is no way to think. That isn’t any way to live your life. Have you had a bad stroke of luck lately? Sure, fine, but that ends here and now. Because you won’t let it. Because the reality is, there is no great being in the sky trying to kill you, even if it seems like it. The universe does not want you, specifically, dead, above all other things. So you can’t act like it does, and succumb to some kind of idea that you’re destined for anything, let alone death. Maya, from here on out, you are going to create your own destiny. No more shitty fate, no more ‘bad-things-for-Maya,’ no more Final Fantasy, no more ‘the universe wants Maya dead.’ Give it up, throw it away. You woke up from a coma, I’ve had enough of this, and you have, too, so it’s over, now, Maya,” you say meaningfully, and she looks almost guilty.

She shifts uncomfortably.

“….Is my mom’s car okay?”

“O-Of course it’s not, Maya. Of course it’s not!”

And the two of you laugh and cry until you can’t feel anything but each other.  

Friday. 10:23 pm.