#stop using that as an excuse to be cruel to people over BIBLE VIDEO GAME WITH POOP JOKES

[hootispootis]

Isaac makes OCs and sonas out of bible characters just as you guys do the same to the characters in the game.

What do you think he was doing when he was "Drawing pictures and playing with his toys"? Dummy.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

In Our Bedroom After The War

[Broadway Kids]

Prompt: “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

Word count: 2944

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Tommy can’t quite remember when Carrie stopped speaking. Some people said it was in the third grade after she brought that Bible to school and started praying in the middle of lunch, others said after the Christian Youth Camp incident and she swallowed so much water that she “permanently clogged her vocal cords” or something stupid. Whatever happened, something had made Carrie White go silent, and she’s been a target of mockery since.

Deaf and dumb. That’s what the other kids liked to call her. But she isn’t deaf, Tommy knows, because she always reacts to what is said about her with great offense and pain, and she certainly isn’t dumb because Tommy has seen her grades when her report cards are stolen and passed around by bullies. She’s a smart girl, very smart. If anything, he was the dumb one, because the amount of times he’s almost given away their little get-togethers was unbelievable.

It started a month into the school year, he believed. He went into senior year, while Carrie just started high school. He can’t quite remember what caused them to start meeting up in the hidden bathroom under the staircase in the C hall stair well, and he’ll admit that he had never imagined himself hanging out with the city’s resident freak and actually enjoy it, but he would seriously miss their reclusive meetings every Friday after school if they were to ever stop.

Today in particular was very special. 1) because he was finally going to try and teach Carrie about video games (she was fourteen! she should at least know the basics like Pokemon and Mario!) and 2) he had noticed that Carrie seemed a little off the past week and he wanted to ask her about it.

When you saw someone like Carrie White, you would assume that she was constantly in a state of anxiety and depression, but Tommy has learned to pick up on little ticks she does over time. Like how lately, she’s been tugging on her hair and biting her knuckles more often, something she only does if something is really bothering her. Because of their social status in the high school hierarchy, he was never able to ask her if she was alright, so non verbal forms of communication would have to do until their weekly meetup.

There’s the way he tried to avoid letting her out of sight, and if it isn’t that, then it's the way they move around each other in natural synchronicity in the hallway, like celestial bodies that have been caught in orbit for millennia. It's the way he makes excuses to walk alone to class just to make sure she doesn’t get any trouble on the way to her own. It's the silent conversations, an inquisitive look (“You okay?”) answered by a minute nod (“All good.”). It’s everything he wishes he had done for her before his final year of high school.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how Carrie would soon be all alone again after he graduates. Tried not to think about what would happen to her when he isn’t there as her silent guardian. Tried not to think about how sad he would be without seeing her every day anymore.

Tommy slipped inside the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible to avoid alerting anyone who may have been lurking around, and turned to face the rest of the space. Carrie is sitting at the sink counter on one of two stools Tommy had smuggled in there for them. She turned her head to look at him sideways, but she’s still got her nose buried in a sketchbook, which she still hasn't let him look at. He wondered what she's drawing. Maybe it's a treasure map. Or a secret code. Or that deer they saw earlier. Or him.

  “The party has arrived!” Tommy has announced, his voice rebounding loudly off of the silent bathroom walls. He dropped his backpack on the floor, unlike Carrie had done, as hers was hung up on one of the hooks on the wall.

Carrie finally put her pencil down and swiveled around completely in her stool to smile at him. She doesn’t show any teeth with her grin, and it’s slightly wry, but it’s a smile nonetheless and Tommy is honored to get such a thing from her. He examined her quickly, luckily finding no new wounds from bullying, then crossed over. She hastily closed her sketchbook.

  “One day,” He said. “One day I will see your masterpiece.”

Carrie gave him an apologetic look, her smile becoming a little more tight. She grabbed a nearby whiteboard to write on, but stopped when Tommy waved a hand.

  “No, no,” He said. “No need for that! I’ve been doing really well in my ASL class- you can sign to me!”

Carrie looked skeptical, but Tommy doesn’t miss the flash of excitement in her warm honey eyes. It’s not often that someone understands her when she uses sign language.

  “Come on, I’m smarter than I look! Don’t doubt my abilities to learn a new language!”

Carrie nodded. She held up her hands, shaking down the frayed sleeves of her shirt, and began to sign.

  “What (something) we (something) today?”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t AS fluent as he thought, but Carrie looked so much more comfortable being able to sign! He could just use his context clues!

  “Something very fun!” Tommy assured her. He took out his phone and turned on a playlist that they’ve been progressively adding more and more songs to (with Carrie having to write hers down and give the list to him, seeing as she didn’t own any electronics). You can tell who added what like this: if it’s Christian related or something grungy-chill, Carrie probably added it; if it has folk music vibes and/or a lot of acoustic guitars, it was probably Tommy, surprisingly enough; if it just generally sounds like it’s ripped from an indie movie, it’s kind of a toss up.

He took out the Nintendo Switch he got last Christmas next and set it up on the sink counter. Carrie tilted her head at it as if it were a peculiar flower that had just sprouted out of the porcelain countertop. 

  “Ever played before?” Tommy asked, although he already knew the answer.

  “No. (something) I’ve seen (something) (something).”

  “You’ve seen it before?” Tommy repeated, guessing just by the way Carrie had pointed to her eyes.

Carrie nodded.

  “Well, now you get to play it!” Tommy beamed at her and she smiled back, but it seems a little forced. Something is definitely on her mind- he’ll have to ask once she’s a little more relaxed. “Hmm… How about Minecraft?”

  “M-I-N-E-C-R-A-F-T. I’ve heard (something) (something).”

  “It’s fun!” Tommy assured her, selecting the game. “Trust me, you’ll like it.” He put the controllers in her hands and she rubs her thumbs over the rubber protectors. “So the main goal is surviving,” He went on. “There's a lot of objectives actually, but surviving is always the first one. Once you get used to it, you can play in Survival mode and start making a good base and start getting tools and armor and stuff, then you can move on to other objectives. But for now you can just play in Creative. What should we name the world?”

Carrie thought for a few moments, and Tommy could practically see all the random names cycling through her brain. After a moment, she signed, “(something)”

Tommy blinked.

  “One more time.”

  “(something)”

  “Can you fingerspell it, please?”

  “V-E-N-U-S.”

  “Oh! Venus! We haven’t learned planets yet.” Tommy said. “Wait- Venus?”

  “V-E-N-U-S (something) (something) (something) cool place (something) live.”

Tommy laughed. “Can’t argue with that logic!” He helped Carrie type in the name and clicked through a couple of other settings before hitting “create world”. Within a few moments the world was up and running. Carrie’s character was off in no time, exploring the blocky landscape and sifting through her colorful inventory, although her movements were sporadic and jerky since it was her first time playing.

Decorating the base was by far Carrie’s favorite part. There were so many different flowers for the outside and wood types for flooring and even COLORED glass. The only thing that would make it better was if you could have animals and OH MY GOODNESS YOU COULD HAVE ANIMALS!!!!!!!!

For a moment, Tommy debated just leaving Carrie there and allowing her to design the base and play around however she wanted, but he couldn't. He was so worried that someone may waltz in and see her in the boy’s bathroom and then do something to her. Carrie being nearly drowned in one of the toilets, Carrie getting her head smashed against the sink counter, Carrie being raped, Carrie getting beaten into a bloody pulp- so many horrible scenarios forced their way into his head. Carrie getting her throat slit, Carrie getting her body stuffed in the air vent, Carrie getting sodomized with a mop stick.

Why? Why were kids so cruel to her? Why couldn’t Tommy protect her from everything? Why does he know he can’t?

There was a soft touch on his hand and he jolted out of his thoughts. Carrie flinched away, too, then signed something he couldn’t understand, but knew she was asking if he was okay by the pinched expression on her face.

  “I’m okay,” He assured her. “Just thinking.”

She made the gesture of “what” and tilted her head. Then she pointed to herself.

About me?

  “Yeah,” Tommy admitted.

That made Carrie’s nose scrunch up in a giggle.

  “Don’t (something) S-U-E know.”

  “If you think that I would cheat on my girlfriend with a fish, then you are very much wrong.” Tommy said. “What about you? What’s been on your mind?”

Carrie put the Switch controllers down and shrugged her shoulders. She began to play with the cuff of her sleeve, not really making eye contact anymore.

  “Come on,” Tommy urged. “You can tell me!”

  “People,” Carrie signed vaguely.

  “People?” Tommy echoed. “People being rude to you?”

Carrie shrugged again, and it was clear she didn’t really want to talk about this anymore, nor did she seem to be in a mood to continue playing. Tommy packed up the Nintendo Switch and paused their shared playlist. He gave Carrie her backpack and they started to walk out of the school in mutual silence.

  “Sorry,” Tommy said as they neared the parking lot. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Carrie shook her head, then signed, “You didn’t. Don’t worry.”

  “Yeah, but-”

  “Well if it isn’t praying Carrie!”

Carrie went rigid, like she had been struck by lightning. She stopped mid-step and didn’t move as a group of seniors trot over, their faces alight with mischief and cruelty.

  “Ross!” One of them called. “What are you doing with this freak?”

  “Is she holding you hostage?” Another guessed, casting a look at Carrie.

  “I bet she’s leading him out to his car to force him to let her ride him.” A third said. The group howled with diseased laughter at that. Tommy is appalled. Carrie looked ill. “Is that it, church girl? The need for sex has finally broken into you and you’re ready to sin?”

  “Back off!” Tommy growled, shoving the boy away. He put himself between him and Carrie, becoming a barricade of sorts. “Leave her alone.”

  “I wonder how loud she’ll moan,” A fourth member of the group mused.

  “Can she even moan?” The second wondered out loud.

  “If you plowed into her hard enough I bet she’ll make some sort of sound.” The first said.

Carrie darted left and sprinted for the nearby line of trees edging the campus. Tommy glared at the group of seniors, then followed, concerned. 

The darkness of the forest quickly closes around them. Carrie is fast on her feet, but Tommy was an athlete and he caught up quickly. He snagged the back of her jacket in a loose grip. They stumbled together over uneven ground and exposed tree roots until Carrie collapsed in a hollow between two moss-covered rocks. Tommy slotted himself in front of her so that she’s shielded from all sides- the rocks and Tommy forming a barrier from the world.

He said nothing. He listened to the girl’s gasping breaths and knew that it’s nothing that words can cure- not anymore. Not after years of having no one, being stabbed in the back and spoon fed lies. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the rustling of oak leaves, the distant calls of birds, the persistent harmony of crickets.

He wondered what Carrie used to ground herself.

He wondered if she grounded herself at all.

Slowly, softly, Carrie calmed to some degree. It comes faster than Tommy expected, but he assumed that’s just because she’s grown used to the treatment she gets. She shifted, wiggling her shoes beneath Tommy’s thigh. Tommy doesn’t shift. He won’t leave until she does.

  “It’s okay,” He finally whispered. “I’m here. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Carrie whimpered and made a sloppy gesture- Why?

  “Because I care about you.” Tommy said. “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

He wanted to make her laugh or smile or at least stop crying, but Carrie just whimpered again. She swiveled around to face him, eyes flashing with tears. 

  “Why?” She signed again, sniffling miserably.

  “We’re friends.” Tommy told her. “You know that, don’t you?” The look he got said that she didn’t believe it. “Come on. Tell me some things you know about me. You’d be surprised how well you know me.”

Carrie hesitated, then began to sign, “Your name is Tommy Ross.” She winced at how bland it was, but Tommy only nodded, brushing a bit of his dark brown hair out of his eyes. Carrie’s face scrunched up like she’s memorizing her timestaple in front of him, struggling to bring that gridded mess of numbers to mind. 

  “You’re the tallest (something) (something) everyone (something) your team,” She continued. The sky overhead is eye-wateringly blue, with crisply white cotton clouds scudding along the horizon. A light breeze shakes the leaves of a nearby oak tree that has the initials of some high school sweethearts carved into the base of its trunk. They’re a little crooked from where someone’s hand had slipped, the flat of a switchblade arcing a little too close to the bark, and making a J thicker, almost a U when you looked at it dead on. 

  “That’s right,” Tommy said. He knows his role here is only background noise. That’s his job, whether Carrie knows it or not, and he’s more than happy to fulfill it. He doesn’t mind being subject to the scrutiny of befriending ol’ praying Carrie because of it. Not if it’s what she needs to feel better.

  “Your eyes (something) like a (something) green-brown, (something) (something) like slimy algae. You always have (something) stupid red sports jacket on. Your sneakers (something) (something) white, once upon a time.” She managed to tease him, uttering out a tiny giggle.

  “What can I say, Carrie, I’m a filthy gremlin, like all boys are-” He joked, and she swatted him lightly on the arm. She bit back a laugh, and Tommy wished that she wouldn’t- Carrie tips her head back when she laughs, unabashed and on the edge of hysterical, giggling and snorting, shoulders shaking with mirth until she’s brought her gaze back down again, cheeks flushed from the exertion of being host to that much joy despite everything that she’s been through. No one holds the weight of trauma and mistreatment as heavily on their shoulders as Carrie White does- Carrieta, the library to all of those scattered instances of would-be’s-could-be’s-shouldn’t-be’s. And still, there is a smidge joy. It’s beautiful. He thought that she’s most beautiful when she’s laughing (don’t tell Sue, and if you do, make sure you let her know it’s completely platonic. but just don’t tell her at all).

  “You have, like, (something) favorite red shirt, with a light brown hood on it. And S-U-E thinks it’s hideous.” Carrie continued. She’s tapping her foot against his leg, a gentle soothing gesture, and he lets her. He knew that it’s more for herself than him.

  “You have a golden ring (something) onto a necklace.” Carrie signed. “But you don’t wear it (something) you think it (something) you look silly. But it’s really pretty.” Pause, and when she signed again, it wasn't about the necklace anymore. “It’s (something) (something) like having a sibling.” Pause. Carrie looked up at him with glittering eyes. “You’re Tommy Ross.”

The weight that she placed on his name makes his heart stutter, catching in his chest- the warmth that he felt towards her is almost unbearable, and he found himself grinning, mouth gone crooked in the gesture.

  “I’m Tommy Ross, that’s right,” He repeated to her, as if they’re introducing themselves at some shitty college icebreaker. “And I’m not going anywhere, Carrie.” He went on, a touch of urgency in his voice- and she smiles, eyes closing, though hers are more reserved than his, somehow. There’s a tear bright in the corner of her right eye, and it traced a thin path down her face. More come. They pool at her chin, dripping off of her face, and soaking into the softness of the earth. His chest ached.

  “And you’re not going anywhere,” She whispered, voice hitching a little halfway through. He swiped a thumb over her cheek, flicked the tear off into the green grass behind them. 

  “I’m not,” He promised. “I’m not leaving you, Carrie.” And his voice had gone soft, her name cradled gently in his mouth, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.