#she says “YOU MORON!” and starts to lesbian panic and flail around

[miusato]

Persona 3 Portable except Shinjiro has big boobs and is a girlfailure instead send post

[nagdabbit]

16. "I only have sexual words for non-sexual feelings!" please and thank you!

HIIIIII FRIEND! 💜💜💜 i’m sorry this is so late! i am, it turns out, very slow at these prompty things.

i hope this one make you laugh and makes your day a little better and i’m sorry it took soooo long. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

~~~~~~~

"Okay, okay, start from the top," Steve said, waving his hands at her. "You're talking very fast and out of order and it's very confusing."

"How?" she demanded, damn close to pulling her hair out, because it wasn't confusing; it was frustrating and annoying and anxiety-inducing and frustrating, and she was sure she was speaking clear enough that Steve could follow. "What's confusing about this?!"

"Just--start from the beginning, okay?" Steve said, making another placating kind of gesture at her. He was leaning across the counter, watching her with those big, friendly Disney princess eyes.

"The beginning is that I don't want to have sex," she snapped and continued her pacing.

Steve nodded, and he had one of those stupid encouraging sort of looks on his face and she hated how much it actually helped calm her. "Now? With Heather? Ever?"

"Never," she snapped. "Not ever. Not at any time in the near, or distant, future do I ever want to have sex with anyone."

"Okay. So what's the problem?"

"The problem, Steven, is that I can't have sex with Heather." 

"Right."

When he didn't reply right away, she paused in her pacing. "Well?"

He frowned at her, shrugged a little. "Well, what?"

"Well, are you going to help me or not?!"

"Help with what? Seems like you have it figured all out," he said, easily, and had the audacity to laugh. 

"Steve, I don't have words for this," she said, possibly too loudly, if his wince was anything to go by. "Look at the everything in here! Look! This is what we both grew up with! This-this--hyper-sexualized view of women, this obsession with sex as a goddamn plot device in every fucking movie! The fact that every relationship in every movie is about sex?! This is the media that raised me, Steve!"

"Okay. And?"

She gestured some kind of way that she hoped he understood. 

He didn't. "Robin, I don't speak lesbian," he said, returning the gesture to her with more flailing than she really thought was really necessary. "Tell me what the actual problem is."

"I only have horny words, Steve," she said, and knew immediately that it was definitely too loud. "All I know is-is how to talk like these dumb, shitty movies, and speak in innuendo and words like--"

"Okay, okay, slow down a minute," Steve yelled, pushing back from the counter he'd been leaning on. Hands on hips, head tilted, brow furrowed, full-mom. "First, stop yelling. This is not a place for yelling. Second, slow down, good lord you're running your mouth like you're in a race. And third, I'm still very confused."

She sighed and dropped her chin to her chest as she took a deep breath. When she looked back up Steve was still watching her expectantly. 

"I only have sexual words for non-sexual feelings," she said, slowly, because she was going to talk to him like he was an idiot if he was going to treat her like one of his children. "The way I learned to talk about relationships and romance and all that is from all this--this sex-obsessed trash that has been shoved down our throats all our lives. I can't--talk about this because I can't explain it because I don't have the words for it.

"I just want a girlfriend and maybe kisses and hugs and picnics and romance and fancy dates and movie nights," Robin said in a rush. She felt herself deflating with each word. "I just want Heather and I want her to understand and I have no idea how to say that to her. I don't know how to tell her I want her, when I don't want her.”

He was still watching her, still wearing that furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. And then turned away and… started digging through the trash. 

"Hey, we're not finished here, asshole!" 

"Just hold on, I have something that I think will help," he grumbled, waving another placating hand at her as he rifled through boxes. He let out a triumphant Ha! and turned back toward her, brandishing a square piece of cardboard. Instead of explaining, of course, he grabbed a marker and started scribbling away at the board in his hands.

"Steve, now isn't the time for arts and crafts!"

"Hold on, I'm almost done," grumbled, drawing a few more lines. And then her gave her a pleased grin and turned the board to face her.

She stared at the cardboard, trying to parse it out. Because she could read the words--despite Steve's godawful handwriting--she just didn't understand. 

The board looked familiar, if just smaller and made of actual trash. It was divided into columns, one reading You Rule, and the other reading You Suck. And there was, for some reason, a tally already in the You Suck column. 

"How does this help me?"

He pointed at her with the marker, eyebrows raised and judging. "You're being an idiot and talking yourself in circles and you need to stop."

"I am not!"

"You are! You literally just said everything you need to say to her, and you used none of those 'horny words' you talked about," Steve argued, tossing the sign down onto the countertop. "You're making a problem where there isn't one, because--"

"I am not!"

"Because you're scared she won't want you," Steve finished, raising his voice over what she was ashamed to admit was a loud screech. "Stop, okay? You've got the words, and you know you do. That isn't the problem."

"But that's not normal, Steve!" She fully meant to yell that time, because she needed him to understand. "Who looks at someone like Heather and doesn't want sex?! Who? I’m broken! Even if she wants me, she wouldn't want someone like--this!"

Steve sighed, shoulders drooping. "Okay, you remember that pamphlet thing you gave me?" he asked, leaning his elbows back on the counter. He gave her another of those earnest looks. "And the books and stuff?"

She nodded, impatiently. "Yeah, I remember. For your Big Bisexual Panic."

He rolled his eyes, but chuckled a little and it really wasn’t the time for that kind of flippancy, goddamn it. "Yep, those books. Did you read them?"

"Uh, no? I didn't need to," she said, shrugging. "Gay here. Hella gay. So incredibly gay, Steve. No panic about it needed. Gay."

He nodded. One of those eyes closed, lips pursed, faux casual kind of mocking nods that she hated. "Right, of course. So you know all about asexuality, right?"

She rolled her eyes at him. She shook her head, impatient and antsy. "No, Steve I don't."

"No? You sure? You know, asexuality? That one where people don't experience sexual attraction?" Steve asked, innocently. "That one?"

And Robin… didn't really have anything to say to that. 

"I did tell you I read everything," he said, smartly, and drew another tally on the board. "But a smart cookie like yourself doesn't need books, right? Because you know everything?

"Robin, asexuality is a thing. And if it's something that I know about, it's a normal thing," he said, a little fiercer than before. "You don't want sex? Fine. How is that any weirder than you not wanting sex with men? I tell you: it's not. So if that's what's making you panic, shut it down now. Okay? Because that's bullshit."

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded again, helplessly.

"You're not broken, Robin. And if you even try and say you are, I will sic the entire party on you, don't think I won't," he threatened, pointing that damn marker at her again. "They read those books, too, so they could support me, so don't even think they won't support me on this, you got me?"

A small laugh bubbled up out of her--because she knew that to be true, at least--and she nodded.

"Robs, I promise, Heather will understand," Steve said, face softening into something a little less fierce. All concerned expression and gentle, supportive smile like; some kind of cartoon prince.

"How would you even know that?" she demanded, still clinging to the solid ground of being petulant and argumentative with him, like her entire world hadn't just been dropped on its head by a moron in an ugly polo. 

He huffed a little laugh, shook his head at her in disappointment, and then nodded toward the door at her back. "Because she's been standing right behind you the whole time. And she doesn't look sad or angry, which is, I think, supposed to be a good sign."

And about fifteen seconds later, once he'd grown tired of her frozen panic--or her silence or her refusal to even turn around--he rolled his eyes and picked up the sign, drew another tick mark in the You Suck column, and tossed it at her feet. "Okay, while you're doing that, I'll be in back," he said, unimpressed. He waved at someone over her shoulder as he went, "Bye, Heather. Have fun. Always check your blindspot, Buckley."

"Thanks, Steve." There were hands on her shoulders, delicate and sun-darkened and firm as they pushed and pulled and tried to turn her around.

"Did I just get played," Robin asked, slowly, as she watched Steve's retreat, her cheeks growing warmer by the second, "by Steve The Hair Harrington?"

"Expertly."

"Am I ever--"

"Nope," Heather laughed, still trying to turn Robin around. "You think he won't tell Billy? You think I won't tell Billy? You will never live this down."

"Shit."

Another laugh, soft and happy and not--not mocking. "That about sums it up. C'mon, come here and let me hug you."

"But--"

"Nope, it's shut up time now," Heather said, voice still bright. "You said what you needed to say, and I heard it, and I accepted it, and I'm into it. Now, we hug."

Robin sighed and let herself be twisted around and pulled into Heather's arms. She was shocked, still, and more than a little shook up. She kind of wanted to cry, but she put her foot down on that option--she would not cry in Family Video, goddamn it.

She hid her face in Heather's neck, because she didn't think she could hold it together if she had to look the other girl in the eye.

Heather smelled like coconut and bubble gum and strawberries, and her arms were tight around Robin's shoulders. She tried to think about that, instead.

"You're a disaster, Robin Buckley," Heather muttered, rocking them gently. "But it's okay; I like that about you. One of us needs to be the girlfriend with her shit together, and I think that might be me."

Robin's heart stuttered in her chest. "Girlfriend?"

"Yep!" Heather said, brightly. "So, wanna get dinner?"

"Dinner?!" 

"Everyone needs to eat," she said, and suddenly there was a hand in Robin's hair and nails gently scratching her scalp and it was perfect. “I’m thinking… pizza?”

“I just had my entire world fucked up and still managed to get a girlfriend, and you wanna think about pizza?!”

The shoulder she was hiding in shrugged, dislodging her. Heather was smiling, so big and wide that her little, button nose scrunched up--and goddamn it she was too cute

“So,” Heather said, smug like she could read Robin’s mind. “How about that pizza?”

“Are we gonna talk about this? About me?”

Heather nodded, smile turning soft and sweet, all the attention of those rich, chocolate brown eyes on Robin. She opened her mouth to say something when an annoying asshole interrupted her.

“If you need some help,” Steve began, and sounded far too smug for his own good, "I have some books you can borrow."