#this got long im sorry as always

[usercelestial]

Nate’s bad actions are taken so much more seriously by the narrative itself than everyone else’s that fandom starts to think they’re just being principled by pretending he’s evil and wasn’t just in need of some cathartic yelling.

No, I agree, I think in some cases, the fandom's hatred for a character of color is mostly based on just them being racist but I think in this case, it's actively both the show and the fandom. Like, the show itself frames Nate in a certain light that it just doesn't for white characters. He's always been framed as a "loser" or "vicious" even if he's valid in the way he's feeling. In one episode, Ted worries about something crushing Jamie's soul and Nate laughs a little but when Ted looks at him, Nate apologizes and we move on. It's small moments like this that I feel lack nuance. Yes, Nate wanting to hurt Jamie is not a progressive or healthy way of dealing with his anger towards him HOWEVER Jamie did belittle, bully, and harass him in his place of work. That is WORK PLACE HARASSMENT that Nate had to deal with every time he clocked in. Both things can be true at once. Nate is dealing with his anger in an unhealthy way AND Nate has a right to that anger. (Funny how everyone was so concerned with Keeley and Jack having a work place affair and Trent being yelled at in the locker room but no one wanted to acknowledge the severity of what Nate was going through for years). This is never acknowledged, not by the show or the fandom. The fandom doesn't want to sympathize with him, they don't want nuance. They want to hate him. They don't just want to see him as a bad person, they don't want to see him as a person at all. They wanted Nate to just forgive and forget, they wanted him to be quiet about how he was feeling. They liked him better when he was small and "meager" so that they could infantilize or ignore him. They never had to come to terms with the fact that Nate is a full person, with anger and kindness and pain and sadness. It reminds me a lot of when Sam was angry with Ted for bringing Jamie back on the team, that anger lasting for one episode when Led Tasso was brought in to bully everyone, forcing Jamie to step up and defend them. Then, after that, Sam had apparently forgiven him? They're friends now, I guess, without Jamie ever having to directly apologize to Sam specifically, without ever having that conversation one on one. Sam just moves on. That's what the fandom wants Nate to do. They don't want him to step outside that box and get angry at all their "beloved, defenseless white characters." Sam is written without flaws, he's only ever briefly angry but for the most part, he's just happy Sam so the fandom loves him. Unlike Nate, who has taken out his insecurities on other characters. Nate, who can be mean or sad or flawed in a way that the fans don't like because it's the wrong kind of flawed. They want an excuse to hate him, they always have, they've always had an unexplainable anger towards him and the show gives them a lot of excuses because he's never framed with too much nuance, his actions are always treated with severity while other characters (primarily white ones) are treated with leniency. When Rebecca has this same kind of arc, she's forgiven and sympathized with. When Jamie has this kind of arc, he's forgiven and sympathized with. I've seen videos on youtube called "10 minutes of Jamie Tartt being iconic" and most of it is just him bullying people (guess what, it's mostly Nate). I'm not hating on that video or the person who made it, but I haven't seen the same kind of attitude towards Nate. People don't see his confidence as iconic, or his awkwardness as relatable, or his anger as real, or his sadness as vulnerable, or his frustration with the team and Ted as understandable. They don't want to, the show doesn't force them to. Anyone who says they don't understand Nate's anger is choosing not to understand. It's easier for them to not acknowledge the failings of their favorite white characters or their own biased feelings towards complex characters of color.

[stil-lindigo]

scorched earth.

a comic about a princess who died in a fire.

(this is a sequel to bite of winter, a comic about Snow and what became of her after her death.)

--

creative notes:

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all my other comics

store

[uriekukistan]

JJK 265: The Role of a Sorcerer

one of the focal points of jjk since the beginning has been the roles and responsibilities of jujutsu sorcerers. it's a question that gets thrown around a lot between different characters: as sorcerers, what is the right way to live? it's a driving force behind many of the major events of the story, and the cause of fragmentation, where different paths could have been taken, but weren't. and in one chapter, yuuji dismantles it all.

as much as i'd love to talk about this when it comes to every character, i picked a few that i think are interesting (to me) and carry a lot of weight throughout the story to discuss, including gojo & geto, megumi, yuuta, and, of course, the man of the hour, yuuji.

Gojo & Geto

the main difference between them right from the start is the way they view their roles as sorcerers, and this fragmentation influences their trajectories going forward, and the trajectory of jjk as a whole.

at the start, geto believes that his role as a sorcerer is to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers. as someone who is strong, he must protect those who are weak, and he must keep those who are also strong in check. he accepts this as his role without much question, and he takes it seriously.

in contrast, gojo thinks that idea is, well, garbage, and he argues with geto about it, calling him self-righteous for thinking that way. where geto focuses his concept of his role on those who are weak, gojo focuses his on those who are strong. his role is simply to be strong. he acts to get stronger and prove that strength.

another place where their opinions diverge in conceptualizing their roles as sorcerers is when it comes to finding meaning in their actions. where gojo doesn't think there needs to be meaning in their actions, geto disagrees.

ultimately, his search for meaning leads to his downfall, as he reaches the conclusion that being a sorcerer is a thankless job, cleaning up after and saving the humans from their uncontrolled cursed energy. he decides that sorcerers are the ones who need protection from humans, because they are subjected to the horrors that humans generate, while those humans live in ignorance.

meanwhile, as gojo matures, he doesn't ditch the idea that strength is what matters as a sorcerer, but he shifts his idea of role to raising a generation of strong sorcerers who can rely on each other. and ultimately, these leads to his downfall too. thoughts on this here under point 1.

regardless, their ideas of their roles are major driving factors of their decisions, and therefore the plot of jjk. their roles are what doom them to their respective fates.

Megumi

megumi has made damn sure we know what he believes his role is. he's a sorcerer, not a hero. he doesn't save people because he has to or because it's the right to do. he saves the people he wants to save. that's all.

he uses his conscience to decide who he wants to save, and that is his decided role.

and this is what dooms him too. his decision to save yuuji is what left him vulnerable to sukuna, and his desire to save tsumiki from the culling games left him open to be manipulated by yorozu, as she pretended to be his sister in order to take advantage of what megumi was willing to do so she could play her own version of the culling games. that shock and hurt is what let sukuna latch onto him so easily, and submerge his soul in the depths of his body.

Yuuta

yuuta decides that his role is to not let others be alone. of course, this is most notable when it comes to gojo, but it's shown throughout jjk0 as well, such as when he refuses to let inumaki go against the curse that geto planted alone.

he also expresses this to yuuji after he fake executes him. he makes sure yuuji knows that he isn't alone in his feelings, and that he's not to blame. empathy is one of yuuta's strongest traits, and he makes it his role.

this is why he is willing to go as far as taking gojo's body, because he knows how gojo has to toss aside his humanity to fight all of these special grade curses (for example, when he used his domain expansions while humans were around despite knowing it would cause damage to them), and he doesn't want him to be alone in his inhumanity.

and while yuuta isn't dead yet, his role has doomed him, because, well...

Yuuji

now we come to yuuji, the sorcerer who shakes this concept to its core in jjk 265.

he's someone who'd decided his role before he even became a sorcerer. he wants to help people, and he wants to guide them to proper deaths.

he also accpets his role as sukuna's vessel, and tries to maintain those two parts of his chosen role simultaneously. however, as we know, he fails to balance being sukuna's vessel and saving people in shibuya (i hesitate to use the word fail because it was not a failure of yuuji's, but i hope you know what i mean).

this causes a shift in his idea of his role, especially once megumi asks for his help in the culling games. he embraces this role as a cog. he will help out fushiguro, he'll help unseal gojo, and then he will die. that is his new role.

quote from yuuji in 265:

until recently, i thought i should simply live to fulfill my role as i understood it. i thought if i died like that, i could at least consider it a proper death. but now, i feel like that's not entirely right. ... just the tiny fragments of memories that make up a person drifting elsewhere give value to a human life. ... people aren't tools. we aren't born with any set roles

yuuji completely rejects the idea that people are defined by theid roles at all, whether they are jujutsu sorcerers or not. he sheds his mindset that he needs to help people, or give them proper deaths, or fulfill a role than die in order to be worth something. instead, he accepts the value of his life as a collection of all the things he's experienced and the people he’s known.

and in doing this, he shakes the world of jujutsu kaisen to its core, and creates another crack in the cycle.

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[dizzybevvie]

obligatory kh1 Paopu tree scene redraw

og under cut <3

[thwackk]

warmup turned into my personal hairchart for Guy

[aether-weather]

SAGESUNE MIKU >:DDD

[introspectivememories]

god i know i said i was tired of making eveerything sad but just imagine timber those first few months of reconnecting and they're both drunk on tim's boat, laying on the deck staring up at the stars and bear turns over to look at tim, his eyes are sad and wet, and he reaches out to touch tim's face as if to make sure tim is really there and not an illusion and tim whispers, "bear?" and bernard smiles a little brokenly and goes, "so how long do i have you for this time?"

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

this one's for all the yuri enjoyers out there — nsft under cut

meronia event prompt(s): scar

[concreteburialplot]

Intertwined // 05

-> 05 - Girl Crush*

pairing; noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo

masterlist; here | crossposted; ao3 | word count; 10.3k 😅

warnings; sad lol, dumb boys, mutual masturbation, p0rn, alcohol, peer pressure, vomiting, college!omens, jolly intro, gay panic & very mild gender confusion??, denial is a river in egypt, 18+ MDNI

REMINDER: this is an au where everyone is around the same age, follows no actual timelines/events, and uses oc's for family members.

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

-NICHOLAS- 

It had been about a month since Noah moved out completely and was fully living with us. It wasn’t that difficult of a transition since he stayed with us most of the time anyway. He seemed to be finally settling in and getting comfortable, which I was happy about.

Him living in my house wasn’t the only thing that became comfortable - in fact maybe we’d gotten too comfortable. 

That first night weeks ago, where we took care of our morning wood next to each other, wasn’t the last time. It started as that one time thing, then an occasional thing, then finally, a casual thing. Neither one of us seemed to take it seriously, maybe to play off the implications of it. Because what else are you supposed to do when you jack off next to your best friend regularly?

It became so casual, sometimes as if the other wasn’t there.

--

My half-asleep ears fill with the faint sounds of moans, accompanied by restrained groans I recognize. The more I wake I feel movement behind me.

I stir a bit before turning around finding Noah pumping himself under the covers while holding his phone in the other. He jumps a little when I catch him but doesn’t stop. His actions only halt temporarily.

“Sorry if I woke you up.” He says bashfully, baby pink tinting his cheeks.

“It’s fine.” I gulp, my eyes drifting to the obscene noises coming from his phone. “Whatcha watching?”

He shrugs, tilting his phone to me, revealing the most generic looking porn I’ve ever seen. But porn is porn and it makes my already semi-hard dick twitch. “You wanna… watch too?”

My cheeks grow warm at the offer, “Oh, um, I mean, I don’t wanna intrude…” Though, I can’t help my eyes from being glued to the screen.

He shifts a bit and reaches over, setting the phone down between us propped up in a divot of comforter. In the clumsy process, the duvet slides off his lap revealing his cock.

My eyes widen at the sight of him but I immediately divert my attention so that he doesn’t catch me and assume something else.

“Oh sorry.” He blushes and goes to cover himself again but pauses, “Actually, do you mind? I just don’t wanna deal with the mess and-“

“I don’t mind.” I reply faster than intended. I shake my head, “I just don’t wanna… do that. But I don’t care if you do.”

“Cool.” He nods and returns to his previous position with his eyes locked on the screen.

There’s a panicky heartbeat lingering in my chest but the throbbing in my cock takes precedence. I relax a bit beside him and life the duvet higher up on my body, trying to cover as much of myself as possible.

I spit into my hand before dipping it beneath the covers and down around my member, working it out from my shorts. A hiss leaves my mouth at the coldness of my palm but it doesn’t take long for that discomfort to fade.

My eyes begin on the phone, to the blonde woman with large unnaturally perky breasts being railed by some strong man with a big dick, something you’d find on the first page of any porn site. Not my usual cup of tea but whatever, it’s doing something for me right now.

Naturally, my eyes drift and happen to fall on Noah’s cock. His large hand works up and down his member – he’s duo-toned darker at the base and lighter towards the tip, kind of like me just much pinker. I glance between him and the man in the video. He’s smaller than the man, but he’s definitely not small. The video is obviously emphasizing the man’s large size, but he’s still smaller than me, not by much but he is. It makes me wonder if Noah would be impressed by my size.

Why would I think that? What do I care if Noah’s impressed by my dick?

Noah’s probably not even looking at him like that, I’m just weird I guess.

As if on cue, Noah comments.

“I wish my dick was that big.”

Not wanting to stay uncomfortably silent, I nervously chuckle, “Yeah me too.”

“Well, how big are you?” He asks casually.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Surely, he doesn’t actually wanna know.

“Oh – oh, I don’t know, but I don’t wanna take the covers off because-“

Noah proposes a solution, “I could feel?”

“I uh – what do you mean?”

“Like, feel it under the covers. So, I can’t see it. That’s what you’re insecure about isn’t it?”

“Um, I, well,” I stutter, trying to think of any sort of appropriate response. I should say no. I shouldn’t want him to do that. But something in me screams that this might be the only time this could happen – not sure why that’s even important. “Um, sure.”

I scooch a little closer to him so it’s easier for him to reach. Unexpectedly, he brings his free hand up to his mouth and spits into it. My eyebrows furrow at the action, not quite understanding why that’s necessary. But when his arm snakes itself under the covers and his hand replaces mine, I’m suddenly not as confused.

My eyes round at the feeling of his hand around me and every muscle in my body tenses when he starts moving.

“Jesus, you’re pretty big.” He says before his hand even reaches my tip.

Suddenly, all the nerves in my body seem to flood to cock and I feel so sensitive under his fingertips. I should be watching the video, but my eyes bounce between his still working on himself and on his other one bobbing under the covers. I can’t tell fully, but it seems like he’s pumping himself faster than before.

His palm reaches the head then slowly slides back down. “You’re so much bigger than me.” His voice seeming casual, but there’s a hint of strain beneath it.

His words and his even faster movements on both of us only worsens the buzzing in my cock.

“Is this okay? I just, I’ve only ever felt my own dick so, I’ve only ever imagined what having a bigger one would feel like.”

“Yeah, yep. It’s fine.” I reply quickly, just trying to maintain my composure.

My chest rises and falls rapidly and my fingers curl into the sheets. A familiar knot forms in the pit of my tummy and the last thing I want to do is cum while he’s touching me. His hand moves on me at the same speed as on his own. His fingertips stride up and down the underside of my length, hitting the sensitive spot beneath my tip every time. My lips press flat together as I try to stave off my orgasm – I don’t want to cum while he’s touching me, but I also don’t want him to stop.

Thankfully he has less stamina than I do.

“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He groans, working quickly on himself chasing his climax. “Fuck, fuck!” He whines desperately. His hand doesn’t stop on me while his hips buck up into his hand spurting milky white all over his exposed tummy.

The visual of his cock twitching and spilling cum all over his hand, combined with his high pitched moans and his hand on me catapults me over the edge. “F-Fuck.” I sputter out a strangled groan and scrunch my eyes closed. Before I have time to yank him off of me, my body goes rigid beneath him. The buzzing across my skin seems to all rush into my throbbing cock in Noah’s still moving hand. “O-Oh.” Slips from my mouth just above a whisper while every muscle in my abdomen tightens. I feel myself twitch and spill my own cum into the duvet and all over his hand.

The orgasm nearly blinds my vision and my heart beats so fast I can hear it thumping in my ears. Those couple seconds where it was just me, my racing heart and my throbbing cock, it was pure bliss. Possibly the hardest I’ve ever came before. 

It’s not until I begin to come down that I realize what just happened and that… he worked me fully through my high? 

My eyes shoot open the second I return to earth and feel his hand finally slip off my softening member. For a split second I contemplate if there’s a way for me to get out of this without even looking at him and god I wish there was. 

Fuck

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” I begin to profusely apologize before he cuts me off. 

He laughs, “It’s okay. I’m sure having someone else’s hand probably feels a lot better than your own. Even if it had been you I probably would’ve came even faster than normal… and you know I already don’t last long as it is.” He chuckles with a light peach tinting his cheeks.

One part of me feels bad that I hadn’t returned the favor, until I remember I didn’t really even want to do this to begin with. Then, another part of me wishes I had returned the favor, maybe I wanted to know the same thing he did - maybe I want to know what another cock would feel like in my hand too. 

“Yeah - um,” I swallow the little saliva I have left in my dry mouth. “Yeah it was nice.” 

He pulls his hand from beneath the covers. “So much for not making a mess.” He laughs. 

My eyes round when I see just how much I had spilt all over his hand. “Yeah, yeah sorry again, I just didn’t think that…” My eyes follow his stare on the milky white mess of mine on his hand. 

His coffee brown eyes snap up to mine and utters out the last words I ever thought he’d say. “Have you ever tasted your own cum?”

I blink blankly at him, completely devoid of words. 

What the fuck

“I-I um, no? Why would I?” 

“I don’t know, curiosity?”

“…Have you?”

“Well, yeah, I wanted to know.” He shrugs. “It was gross, bitter. But,” His eyes flutter back down to his hand. “I’ve obviously never tasted anyone else’s. I wonder if yours tastes different?”

My brain seems to glitch, not fully comprehending his statement. 

“I-I um, I mean, probably.”

“Would it be super weird if I tasted it?”

My brows shoot up at the question. 

But I reply before I’m even sure of my answer. “No, I um, don’t think it would be that weird?” 

And it wouldn’t be, right?

He’s just curious.

Just like he was about my cock. 

“Alright.” His tone much less confident than just seconds ago. 

His dark brown eyes drop to the puddle of my cum on his right hand, just above where his thumb meets his hand. He lifts it tentatively up to his mouth; my eyes can’t help but rotate between his face and his approaching hand. Hesitantly, he darts his pink tongue past his lips to dip the tip of it into the puddle. Unexpectedly, his eyes find mine, snapping me out of my gaze that was locked on his tongue. His mahogany eyes surprise me, with how round and soft they are - so puppy dog-like for a situation such as this. I blink at him and for some reason, seeing him flatten his tongue a bit on the remnants of me makes my cock twitch. He takes a scoop of my orgasm on his tongue and into his mouth. 

“Hm.” He hums, almost sounding pleased, like he was taste-testing wine. “You taste better than me. Sweeter. Must be all those bananas you eat.”

Sweeter

My brows join together, perturbed, “It can’t be that different?”

His boney shoulders raise into a shrug. “You can try mine if you want? To make it even or whatever.” He gestures his left hand up a bit to remind me that his mess remains on that hand too. 

“Oh - I - well -“ I watch his hand gesture towards me again. The turbulence in my tummy reminds me of when someone offers you a gift and out of politeness, you’re supposed to refuse it - but I don’t want to refuse. I want to know.

“Oh c’mon it’s only fair, it’s not that bad.” He urges me, only reaffirming my inability to voice a decline. 

I look down at the back of his hand covered in cloudy white rivers. My fingers gently take hold of his wrist and he lets me take control of his arm without a single ounce of resistance. I bring his hand to my lips and copy his actions - dart my tongue out and meet his eyes. His are just as intrigued as mine were, locked in my tongue. 

The second his cum meets my taste buds, my eyes flutter closed. I’m surprised at the taste, it’s bitter and salty, what I imagine battery acid must taste like. The texture is about what I imagined, thick and slimy. And yet, even with the immediate disgust of it, it makes my cock twitch again. There’s a tingle in my fingertips and on my tongue that urges me to lap up the rest of his orgasm but I fear if I did, I’d be completely hard again. I never thought something as rancid as battery acid would make me hard, but for some reason right now it’s threatening to. 

I’ve never been more grateful for anything more than the duvet on my body right now. 

I half-force a twist in my face at the taste as I pull back from his arm. “Augh, that’s disgusting.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh, “See! Told ya.” 

A nervous chuckle escapes me, “That you did…” 

-Next Day- 

Since landing an apprenticeship at a local tattoo parlor, I don’t see much of either Noah or Folio. While I’m at work after class, they’ve been hanging out at the library in a study group full of people I barely know - people from the frat party a couple weeks ago. 

Today though, I got off my shift early and I’m on a different mission. 

-

My tires screech and the weight of my entire body jerks forward as Stella makes another abrupt stop at a redlight. My hand lands on my dash as a reflex I had gotten far too familiar with.

My tongue passes between my lips before pressing them together and close my eyes through a deep breath. I consider myself a fairly patient person, but if there’s anyone on earth who could get me to snap, it is definitely my sister.

“I told you to start braking 5 million feet ago.” I exhaled with the hopes of Buddha himself coming down and bestowing me with a well-deserved medal of excellent patience.

“Whatever, we still stopped, didn’t we?” She sasses, as she continues to dance to whatever pop song pours through the speakers.

“Yeah, barely.” I grumble, crossing my arms in the passenger seat. “I have no idea how they let you pass your driver’s test.”

“You are so grouchy today.” She glares at me. “What, did the shop bully you again?”

My eyes roll so hard they could’ve fallen out. “No.” I clench my fingers into my palms and stretch them out as overlayed flashbacks of scrubbing every inch of the tattoo parlor flash across my mind. “No, I just cleaned a lot. Fumes. Headache.”

“Right.” She responds unconvinced.

The car takes a sharp turn into a plaza I’ve only ever driven past before and pulls into a parking spot right in front of the destination of my mission.

“We’re here!” She beams, turning the engine off.

We walk up to the small shop snuggled in the tiny strip. The walls look like they were once white, a long, long time ago. Now they’re stained a yellow-y beige with weeds and vines growing across the plaster.

“’Record Store. Plus repairs.’” I read off the giant red letters above the door. “How creative.”

Stella’s elbow sharply jabs into my ribcage. “Ow!” I hiss and recoil away from her. 

“Be nice. Be cool.” She scolds me in a hushed tone.

Whatever the fuck ‘nice and cool’ means to a teenage girl.

A bell trills sharply when she pushes open the glass door. A rush of cold AC blasts against our skin soon as we step into the foyer. 

At the tall reception desk stands a man with lengthy brown hair and a long face. He looks a couple years older than me, at least 23ish.

“Hi Jolly!” Perks Stella almost jumping the second her fingertips meet the glossy wood.

My teeth dig into my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle a giggle when I see the man noticeably deflate the moment he hears the shrill chirp of my sister’s 16-year old voice.

He sets down his pen on whatever paperwork he was working on and turns to us, “Hello Stella.” He greets flatly, with a hint of a foreign accent I can’t place yet.

It’s quite obvious that she comes in here often, more than she’s let on – enough for them to be on a first-name basis.

“Jolly, this is my brother Nick, Nick this is Jolly.” She beams at his name, completely smitten with the older boy. If it wasn’t so obvious that he’s irritated by her mere presence, I’d be more protective of her - but she’s perfectly fine. She’s made sure of that herself.  

“Hey.” I meekly wave at him.

He acknowledges me with a nod and looks back at her. “What’s up.”

“Well, we need your help!” She rocks up and down on her feet with her hands behind her back.

“Great. What is it you need help with?” His fingertips restlessly patter on the table top, impatiently waiting for her to deliver her pitch faster. 

“Go on Nick, show him.” She urges motioning her hand towards him.

I sigh and pull out my phone from my jean’s back pocket, then scroll to find a picture of Noah’s snapped guitar and hand it to the man.

“Could you fix that? Or know someone who could?” I inquire, already feeling as though the trip was hopeless.

His brows pull together as he inspects the picture then uses two fingers to zoom in on the instrument. “Whoever did this really did a number on it.”

“Yeah.” I mumble, scratching the back of my neck. “So, do you think you could fix it?”

“Hmm.” He hums, pulling down his thick-rimmed glasses down his nose. “I can’t say for sure, you’d have to bring it in.”

Air escapes my throat with another sigh, that’s the last thing I wanted to hear. “Okay. I’ll get it in as soon as I can.” Even though I have no idea how I’ll be able to do that without Noah noticing.

He hands me back my phone, “That’s a really rough break.”

“Trust me, I know. Thanks for looking.” My tone suddenly lacking optimism. “And sorry about…” When I turn to point at Stella, I realize she’s not beside me anymore, now shuffling through the various wooden crates of records. “Her.”

He taps his pen against the counter and glances over at her. “It’s fine. She brings friends in. They buy records. Sales are sales.” He shrugs before going back to whatever he was working on before we interrupted him.

Stella doesn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon so I let myself roam around the shop. The majority of the small store is made up of boxes full of records, a mix of old and new. A small, separated section has various instruments strewn about, most of them looking refurbished. The air is pungent with the smell of sandalwood incense, some kind of chemical-y polish, and stale wood.

“Okay! Ready to go!” Stella calls from behind me and when I turn to her she’s holding a record that I recognize.

“Since when do you listen to Nine Inch Nails?” My brow arches up, seeing as she’s only ever been a Taylor Swift type of girl.

She giggles, “Jolly suggested them.”

I take two fingers and pinch the bridge of my nose with a deep sigh, “Okay, whatever, let’s go.”

--

Stella and I walk into the house and my ears are immediately unsettled by the sounds that fill the house. They’re giggles, some I recognize to be Noah’s but the other is quite … feminine. 

The edges of Stella’s lip curl into a mischievous grin, “Oooooh Noah snuck a girl innnn.” She snickers in a sing-song tone.

“Go to your room Stella.” I order, mostly because her tone irritated me but also because I don’t want her to see what’s behind the cracked door.

She gives me a glare, “You’re just jealous that he’s getting some and you’re not.”

“Go. To. Your. Room.” I repeat sternly through gritted teeth.

“Fine, whatever. Be the party pooper you always are.” She huffs before turning down the hall and slamming the door behind her when gets to her room.

I blink at the doorknob as her words sear into my chest. I question even interrupting until another giggle pierces my eardrums.

I’m precarious with the way I approach the cracked door and peer in. Noah and the girl from the party, Kassidy, next to each other on the bed with open textbooks and notebooks littered about. They’re laughing at something but all I can focus on is her hand on his thigh. An odd twist forms in my abdomen, somewhere between my ribs and my gut. It makes me feel sick, like I ate some gas station sushi.

My knuckle taps on the door and creaks it open. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey Nick!” Noah seems surprised to see me but not necessarily upset by my presence, which for some reason eases the knot in my chest. “I heard a door slam did-”

It’s not until the blonde waves at me with the hand that’s not glued to Noah’s thigh that I realize the anger staining my fingertips.

“Noah, can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask through a fake smile.

“Sure.” He nods, “Be right back, Kass.”

Once the bedroom door clicks behind him, I feel myself begin to unravel.

“Does my mom know you’re bringing girls home?” I question, my voice coming out much harsher than intended.

“No…?” He answers. “I figured I would just do what we always did with each other? Sneak in.”

“Okay well, I don’t appreciate you bringing girls into my room. Please tell me you guys didn’t do anything in my bed.” The words shoot from me, quick and sharp, like acid bullets.

His face falls and I see the light behind his warm eyes dim.

My

Fuck

I regret the words the second I realize my mistake. Though I suppose on some level, deep down, I knew that the word choice would hurt him, but I said it anyway.

I said it anyway.

I was so upset that I said it anyway.

“No?” He replies sounding a bit offended at the accusation, even though it’s not out of the realm of possibility. “I wouldn’t do that in your bed.”

The impulse to lash back is there, bubbling just under my skin, but I have no reason to be angry. No valid, explainable reason. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lie.

“Right.” Noah says softly but with a slight edge. “Well, I” He thumbs over his shoulder. “Um, she was just about to leave so.”

“Okay.” I reply quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with an odd mixture of anger and guilt.

-

While Noah escorts the girl out to say goodbye, I begin tidying up the room. Noah is pretty clean thankfully, so the room itself is clean, but I can’t shake the feeling of something oddly foreign within the four walls. The room suddenly feels so dirty and the taste on my tongue is sour like expired milk. My eyes land on the bed sheets and my stomach feels like I had drank expired milk – maybe 3 whole gallons of it. My mind struggles to account for the food I had eaten today but fails. Surely that is the reason for my abrupt nausea.

Before I can even process my actions, my fingers hungrily latch onto the bed sheets, snapping each fitted corner off the mattress. Heavy textbooks and pens hit the floor with a loud crash.

Despite having just washed them, I’m absolutely positive that they’re filthy.

Maybe they smelled too much like stagnant laundry this morning

Maybe they were making me itchy last night

Maybe I developed an allergy to our detergent

Maybe it’s been too warm and I soaked them in sweat

Or maybe I just want to clean the fucking sheets.

“Oh,” Noah’s gentle voice startles me from the doorway. His eyes trail up from the mess on the floor to the balled-up sheets beneath my palms. “Um, did I accidentally get highlighter on them or something?”

“Nope.” I’m quick to answer. “Just wanna wash ‘em.”

His brows furrow still looking at where my hands keep the shape of the large sphere of material. “Oh. Um, well. I just washed them like 2 or 3 days ago?”

“It’s fine, I just want to wash them again.” I respond shortly.

“Okay… well, let me do it then.” He crosses the space between us going for the sheets but I pull away.

“No. I got them, thanks.” I avoid him by swerving around his thin body and head towards the door.

 “Well, what can I do? I could mop again or… reorganize the fridge? Or…” He trails off, not being able to come up with much else.

“No, Noah. It’s Stella’s turn to mop and who the fuck offers to reorganize a fridge?” I snap at him from the doorway, “You don’t need to be cleaning the house 24/7, okay?”

His eyes falter but he nods “Oh, sorry, I um, I just wanna be doing my part. You know… earn my keep and all that? I just… wanna help.”

My face softens and the tight muscles in my shoulders ease. I feel guilt all over again. 

I sigh. “I’m sorry – I just - I just had a bad week with school and with the shop and,” I pause. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, okay?”

He nods and the edges of his mouth upturn ever so slightly into a tight-lipped smile. “Okay.” He pauses, fidgeting with his fingers. “Sorry about Kassidy. I should’ve asked.” He says quietly while his eyes drop to his anxious hands.

The tips of my fingers curl into the sheets a bit, a stream of… frustration maybe?  shoots through my veins. “It’s okay. I just don’t want my mom to get mad.”

A half lie.

“Right.”

When I turn to leave, he stops me, “Oh – I wanted to ask you something?”

My eyes widen while still turned away from him. A chill rolls up my spine at the realization that we’ve barely spoken since yesterday morning, when his hand was around my cock.

“Um sure, what’s up?” I turn back to him cautiously.

“Well, the fair is in town this weekend, I thought we could go? You know, me, you and Folio?”

I smile at him, relieved it wasn’t about something else. “Sure, sounds fun.”

-Friday Night-

When Folio comes to pick us up, I immediately regret agreeing to carpool. The passenger side door flings open with yet another blonde in the front seat. This one a bit more of a natural, darker blonde and not nearly as bobblehead-like. She looks vaguely familiar, maybe she was one of the wannabe sorority girls from the frat party.

I sigh when I glance over to my busted blue car that’s been acting up every morning since the cold weather’s been getting closer.

The girl smiles wide at us and gets out so we can fold her chair to get to the backseat.

We squeeze our way to the back and naturally, Noah’s mile-long limbs take up most of the room.

The thick distinctive stench of paper-wrapped nicotine coats the cracking plastic of his car doors and the pungent aroma of $10-per-gram weed oozes from the stained beige seats.

Even though Nick brought his ‘friend’, I feel decent about the fair tonight. I mean these are the things we should be doing, right? Going out is what college kids do.

The girl hands back a plastic bottle wrapped in brown paper and Noah hungrily takes it.

“Vodka.” She says simply with a dazed smile.

“Cool.” Noah grins, though I know he’s never tasted pure vodka in his life.

He puts the bottle to his lips and tips it back, immediately scrunching his face in disgust at the taste. If it was just us, I know he would’ve spit it out.

He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, “Not bad.” He lies straight through his teeth.

Noah tips the bottle offering it to me. I shake my head and wave it off, “No, I’m good thanks.”

“Oh, c’mooonn Nick, don’t be a wuss.” Noah whines.

“Yeah Nick, loosen up! Have some fun!” Folio perks up from the driver's seat and watches me in the rearview mirror.

The last time he told me to “loosen up”, he ended up floundering in a lake so it hardly has an enticing ring to it.

“No really.” I reaffirm. “Not for me.”

Noah tsk’s and rolls his eyes, “You’re no fun.”

The words hit me square in the chest and my ribs mold around the letters like playdoh.

You’re no fun.

They’re simple words. Logically, I know they’re mostly a joke. Yet, they burn like a lit match colliding with white paper.

You’re no fun.

We’ve been friends for a long time. Long enough to sit in boring silence scrolling on our phones comfortably for hours. But now I’m no fun because I won’t drink out of a foreign bottle?

The searing in my lungs forces my hand to reach and snatch the bottle from him abruptly. I don’t think, I just do. I take the bottle to my lips and tilt my head back with scrunched-closed eyes. I chug, better he did and better than the girl, until the scorching of my throat gets too much.

I shove the bottle back at him, now an extra quarter empty. His face and every other face in the car seem shocked, eyes wide with slightly dropped jaws.

“What?” I hiss and let out a vodka-singed burp. “You told me to have fun.”

--

Nick’s wheels roll to a halt in the dirt of the fair’s extended parking. The crowded car disperses faster than I anticipated, leaving me alone in the empty car. I stumble out of my seat and precariously steady myself in the dirt to scan the parking lot for the group. The four of them are already ahead of me, nearly halfway to the entrance. Their laughter carries in the wind all the way back over to me. 

Once I catch up, I trail behind them quietly. My hands stuffed in my pockets and my Vans kicking up dry dirt, just trying to focus on walking in a straight line. 

As we approach the ticketing office, my heart plummets to my stomach when I see two familiar girls standing at the gate waiting for us. 

I should’ve known.

“Nicholas, you remember Brooke, right?” Noah grins and gestures to the carbon copy of every other sorority girl on campus.

“Yeah. Hey.”

That’s when I notice the delay in my words and the lag between my fingertips as I wave to her. And as we buy our tickets and make our way into the fair, I catch the warmth all over my skin and the growing numbness in my lips.

I think I’m drunk. Really drunk. 

 --

We make a solid lap around the entire park – picking up random snacks here and there, some fried oreos, a shared funnel cake, slushees, and more I can’t even remember. All the fried food mixed with the couple spin-y rides and the alcohol sloshing in my stomach, I was more than ready for an actual meal. I convinced everyone on hotdogs since it’s the cheapest food here and I’d already spent a good chunk of my tip money on ride tickets and overpriced junk food.

When we reach the window of the hotdog stand we’re met with a familiar face.

“Bryan!” Exclaims Folio, excited to see his fraternity mentor.

As always, Bryan looks about as thrilled as a mother of toddler triplets after a candy bender.

“Trout.” He replies unenthusiastically with his monotone cadence matching the deep sleep-deprived purple beneath his eyes.

Normally I would’ve giggled at Folio’s ridiculous nickname but my body was too focused on sustenance.  

“Two hotdogs and fries please.” I skip past the rest of the indecisive group.

“We’re out of fries.” He replies flatly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He just shrugs, unbothered.

“Fine. Just the hotdogs then.” I huff.

“Coming right up.” He feigns enthusiasm.

The rest of the group place their orders and I can’t help but find amusement in how comical Bryan looks. He’s uniformed in a hotdog themed apron and a silly hotdog visor.

We finally make our way to a painted blue picnic table that sits off to the side away from the busy crowd. I’m grateful for the small respite from the overwhelming, overstimulating chatter.

I fucking hate hotdogs. Usually.

But the minute that meat and bread combo meets my tastebuds, it is as though heaven itself found home in my mouth.

The rest of table fades out as I devour my food and it is only when I’ve finished my 2nd dog that start regaining consciousness. I glance over at the boys who are in the midst of telling some story that’s got all the girls laughing.

My eyes land on Kassidy. She’s giggling at every single thing Noah says and he’s looking at her like she hung the moon. 

No matter how tacky or annoying she is, she’s still objectively beautiful – beautiful in a way I could never be.

The way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, makes me want long blonde hair too. When she bats her fake lashes at him, it makes me wish mine were longer. Her nails adorned with white tips suddenly make my nailbeds feel bare. The foundation caked on her face reminds me of the breakout I have on my cheek and the stubble growing beneath my nostrils. All at once I’m disappointed with every bit of myself that isn’t like her.

A fleeting moment of curiosity passes pondering if this is what it feels like to question your gender. It had never crossed my mind to be anything other than male, nothing else I ever desired. I’ve never felt like I was in the wrong body or anything of the sort – so, I don’t quite think that’s what I’m feeling now.

Maybe I just envy her existence or how confident she is. Maybe I find her attractive? It’d be kinda shitty if I found her attractive, seeing as she’s Noah’s date and I’m here with Brooke. I don’t think it’s that either, since I can barely tolerate either of them.

Perhaps I’m just drunk and confused.

I must just be drunk and confused.

Once the food settles in my tummy, I feel significantly better, a little nauseous still but better nonetheless. My buzz has fizzled, but the tips of my fingers still tingle and words are still hard.

I quietly use a leftover bun to move around a glob of ketchup as entertainment. Noah’s always been the social one, he’s always been the connections, the glue. So, it’s no surprise that he’s captured the attention of the whole table, filling the air with collective drunken giggles. Normally though, he helps nudge me gently into conversations. He helps me not stay silent like I am now. It’s fine though, I don’t have much to contribute since they have all these inside jokes from their study group.

I snap out of my daze when I hear Folio crunch a coke can in his hand as he gets up from the table. There’s an emptiness beside me I hadn’t felt til now – Brooke is gone.

My gaze follows the group as they get up from the table to bring their trash to the overflowing garbage can.

“Where did Brooke go?” I ask to the general conglomerate, most of which pay no mind to me.

“She left to go meet up with some other friends.” Noah replies, his tone suggests that he’s downplaying the situation. I’m sure she wasn’t having fun with a half-drunk silent boy.

‘You’re no fun’ rings in my head from earlier in the car.

2 things I’ve learned from tonight are:

1 – eat hotdogs when drunk.

2 – pretending to be “fun” is really fucking exhausting.

“Oh.” I say quietly, matching their actions by tossing my flimsy paper plate and Dr. Pepper can into the trash.

“We’re heading towards the bigger rides, if you want to come.” He turns and follows the rest of the group through some carnival game tents.

‘If you want to’ I mimic him in my head.

No I don’t fucking want to but I was driven here and I’m stranded.

“Yeah.” I mumble and quickly jog to meet them ahead of me.

--

The others made their way to the short ferris wheel line after I insisted it was okay to leave me behind. I sure as fuck didn’t want to sit in a pod alone or 3rd wheel on one of their’s.

I watch Noah and Kassidy’s pod reach and stop at the peak of the small ferris wheel, I don’t know why I’m watching but my body is rooted where I stand. Upon it’s a slow descent down, I see it.

His hand cupping her face. Their lips locked.

It’s not a decision I make until their pod locks at the gate and they’re being let out. My foot swivels in the dirt, kicking up dying grass as I try to dip around various family-owned booths for cover. As feared, I hear him calling from behind. I knew I had messed up by making a run for it so late.

“Nicholas!”

His calling only makes my legs move faster – I’m not sure exactly why I’m running or what good it’ll do, just that I need to get as far away from him as possible.

He catches up to me faster than I was prepared for. Fall leaves crunch beneath his worn-out Converse. “Where are you going?” He asks and before I even turn around to see him, I know the look on his face. The same look that I can’t seem to ever say no to – the one that breaks my back just to make me bend to him.

I sigh and turn to him. “Noah, I’m going home.”

“What! Why?”

And there it was. Big, round, puppy dog eyes full of decadent chocolate so sweet it could rot the teeth right out of your skull - paired with pouted lips that demand pity and restitution.

“I’m not having fun. I don’t want to be here.”

“What? You told me you wanted to go to the fair?” He questions with curved eyebrows.

“No. I didn’t. You invited me. You told me that I wanted to go. You tricked me into being on a triple date I didn’t want to be on.” My arm gesturing towards the fair.

“Well, c’mon we can still make it fun! We can just get some more ride tickets and-” He grabs the sleeve of my flannel and tugs at it towards the fair.

I yank my arm back so hard it nearly pulls him back with it, “No you’re not listening to me Noah. I don’t want to be here. Why do you continue to bring me places that you KNOW I won’t like?”

“We’ve been to the fair a million times, Nick.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yeah! With just us! Not with three random fucking girls!” The churning in my chest begins to spit drunken thoughts out without filters.

His brows knit together in confusion. “They’re not random girls Nicholas, and I really thought you’d hit it off with Brooke-”

“Oh my god, why the fuck would you think I’d get along with her? Just because she’s got tits and ass? Sorry, I’m not you, I need a little more than that.” I scoff.

“Well, I-I don’t know just thought you’d want-”

“Augh!” I groan and pace a tiny lap around the grass. “Can you stop assuming you know what I do or don’t want?”

“So, let me get this straight. You don’t want to go to parties, or the fair, or hang out with girls… normal college stuff, you don’t want?”

My heart pounds hard against my eardrums and my fingers burn with frustration. My fists tighten at my sides and my jaw clenches, digging each row of teeth into the other. Molten lava threatens to spill from my throat.

“No, Noah. I guess I don’t want ‘normal college stuff’, I don’t fucking like alcohol and I don’t even know if I like girls!”

My yelled words tumbled from my mouth so easily I didn’t even realize I said anything that odd until Noah’s eyes widen.

I don’t even know if I like girls.

“What?” Noah asks softly and genuinely with his head tilted slightly.

“I-I,” I stumble back, accidentally hitting an oak tree behind me. “I’m- I just need to go home.”

“Nick.” His hands stretch out to grab my arm as I turn to leave but he’s a millisecond too late. “Nick!” He calls after me.

Every bit of adrenaline available in my body propels me forward, past all the booths, all the rides, and through all the neighboring forest. When my feet finally find asphalt, my head feels like a basketball on a player’s fingertip. My eyes widen at a sharp turn in my stomach. I analyze my surroundings in a split second, running towards a lamp post for support. The moment my palm touches the cold metal, I double over and empty the contents of my stomach onto the concrete. The funnel cake, the cotton candy, the fried Oreos, the slushees, and the goddamn fucking hotdogs all found home the sidewalk.

I don’t even know if I like girls.

I don’t even know if I like girls.

Why would I say that?

Is that true?

Do I not like girls?

Of course, I like girls.

I wobble over to a bench and sit on the cool wood. The weather’s a lot colder now that the sun has set, and I regret not bringing a proper jacket.

I like girls. I know I like girls. Right?

I mean, I’ve been jerking off to girls… this whole time? So, if I didn’t like girls, why would I do that?

I like girls.

Only.

I like girls.

Right?

I shake my head of the thoughts spinning faster than I can even grasp.

The dim light of the street lamp flickers and it occurs to me that it’s almost 10 pm and I have no idea where I am or how to get home.

Fuck.

Pulling my location up in my Maps app tells me that I’m still fairly close to the fair, which unfortunately means I’m pretty far from home. Tears begin prickling in my eyes and a tight knot forms in my throat.

The weight of the night crashes down onto me all at once.

The “you’re no fun”

The fucking hot dogs

The “she went to meet other friends”

The “if you want to”

The ferris wheel

The “I don’t even know if I like girls”

“Fuck.” My voice cracks as tears take hostage of my cheeks.

My body doubles over, folding in on itself to bury my face in my hands.

I’m drunk, I had a shit night, I left my best friends at the fair and now I’m stranded on some random street.

Even through my own heaving, a brief pang of guilt shoots in my stomach for leaving Noah behind.

He wanted to have a good night, perhaps I ruined it. 

In the past, I would’ve stayed feeling guilty because I knew for a fact that if the roles were reversed, he’d come back to find me. But now, I’m not so sure. I don’t think he’d leave Kassidy for anyone or anything.

Not even me.

My palms try to stave off the tears by digging into my eye sockets.

“Fuck, okay. I need to get it together.” I say out loud to myself, letting out a deep exhale. “What the fuck am I gonna do.”

Both of my only friends are still at the fair.

Mom is at work.

So that leaves me with…

Stella.

“Shit.”

I unwillingly pull myself from the bench and begin to pace back and forth taking fast but deep breaths. I ring out my hands out, trying to expel any sort of panic from them. The last thing I need is for her to see me like this.

Finally, once I’ve composed myself, I dig my phone out of my pocket and click her contact name “Snot”.

It rings for a little bit too long and I almost hang up just before she answers.

“Hello?” She asks a little louder than necessary, shortly after I hear a flood of giggles in the background. Her sleepover.

“Hey.” I barely get out without my voice cracking.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asks with concern lacing her voice. There’s the sound of a door closing behind her, shutting out the chatter.

“Oh um-“ My tone pitched up and I feel tears welling up in my eyes again. If the rest of tonight’s events weren’t enough, here I am making a fool out of myself to my little sister. “I forgot about your sleepover. It's fine – I’ll just walk home or something.”

“Walk home? Where are you?”

I swallow the knot in my throat trying to keep my voice level, normal and calm but my pause is long and loud.

“I-I,” My eyes squeeze shut pushing as much of my tears out. “I don’t know.”

“Did you drink?”

The back of my hand roughly wipes my nose. “Yes.”

“Are you with Noah?” Her voice is gentle and kind and reminds me of how our mother would talk to us when we scraped our knees.

I sniffle and my voice threatens to break once more. “No.”

“Okay.” She states as if she just got handed a checklist of effortless tasks. “The girls were just about to go home.” I know that’s a lie. “Drop me a pin and I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks Stell.” I reply quietly.

���Of course.”

--

It took about 20 minutes for Stella to pick me up in my own car.

My arms wrap around my shivering body and my head rests on the window as I watch the streetlights zoom past us. Her speed is inconsistent, fast in short bursts then slow in long drags. Her stops are jerky and her turns wide. If this was an early Tuesday school morning, she wouldn’t be able to stop my mouth from rambling off critiques. But tonight, opening my mouth seems more dangerous than her driving.

“So. Do you wanna talk about what happened?” She cuts through the silence unapologetically, like opening a crisp can of Coke in a dead, silent room.

I shake my head.

“C’mon. You can’t really expect me to pick you up in the middle of nowhere at midnight without any context?” She patters her fingertips on the steering wheel and glances over at me. “Did something happen with Noah? Did you get into a fight?”

“Something like that.” I mutter.

She squints her eyes and kind of tilts her head to the side. “You guys never fight?”

“Well.” I reply bluntly. “Things change, I guess.” The fabric of the seat cover stretches as I shift. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

The gears spin in her head, I can almost see them. “Weird.” She mumbles under her breath. “Was it about a girl?”

“I said I’m done answering questions.”

“Sheesh, okay.” She says defensively.

Silence fills every empty space in the car. I’m not sure I’ve ever been uncomfortable around my sister before, but I certainly am now. It’s a new feeling, something I want to run and hide from. My knee bounces nervously as my mind cycles through everything that happened tonight. Regardless of anxiety and confusion twisting my organs into pretzels, I fear that if I don’t say what’s chanting in my head right now, I could explode.

“I told Noah that I don’t even know if I like girls.” I blurt out with extreme urgency, as if I didn’t get it out now, I never would.

Her eyes widen a bit but they stay focused on the road. My heart thumps hard against my chest threatening to jump right out.

“Okay.” She says calmly but cautiously. “And why did you say that?”

“I-I don’t know.” I let the weight of my body finally relax and sink into the seat. “You’ve known me my whole life. Do you think that I… might not only like girls?”

She turns to me at a red light and the face she gives me reminds me of when she was 4 and I was 7, when I speculated that Santa might not be real. Without a second thought she replied, “Of course he’s not real, silly.”

Even at 4 years old she was smarter than me.

“I think that might be a question you have to figure out yourself, Nick. I can’t tell you what you do or don’t like.”

I huff, suddenly frustrated that I couldn’t hand off such a complex task onto someone else – that I couldn’t have someone else give me a quick, solid, factual answer.

“I guess you’re right.” I mumble. 

She returns her focus to the road and lets out a little sigh. “Do you remember when we were little? And we liked Power Rangers?”

“…Yeah?” I reply confused as to what exactly Power Rangers has to do with my sexuality.

“Well, I remember the first time we watched it - and you thought it was so stupid.”

“No I didn’t? I loved Power Rangers?” 

“No.” She corrects me. “At first, when it was just us, you thought it was dumb. But then all your friends started liking it and suddenly you did too. You even wanted to be the red one for the group costume that Halloween, remember?”

“Okay… and? What are you getting at?”

“I can’t tell you what you are or aren’t, Nick. But you’re right - I have known you my whole life. And I know that sometimes you change things about yourself to, I don’t know… not make waves? Not stand out? To fit in? I don’t know your reasoning and I don’t know if that’s what you did with this. But… just something to think about I guess?”

My fingers tap at my knee in thought. I don’t really remember that specific component, only that I had Power Ranger shirts and bedsheets. I remember playing with the figures on the playground with friends and running around the neighborhood with them on Halloween as the Red Ranger. If I was having fun, does it really matter if I didn’t actually like Power Rangers? 

“Yeah… I guess it’s something to think about.” I let out a deep sigh. “How’d you get so smart anyway?”

She shoots me a smile, “I learned from the best.”

“Nope, definitely not me. That was all Mom.”

“Who did you think I meant?” She smirks.

“Ha-ha so funny.” I roll my eyes with a toothy grin, finally feeling the tiniest sliver of ease enter my body.

The relaxation slipped from me as quickly as it arrived. “Please don’t um, tell her…or anyone that we talked about this – especially Noah.”

“You got it. I would never.”

I somehow feel relieved yet terrified of what I’ve just divulged to her.

“Do you wanna get donuts from that 24-hour place? And maybe some water for your inevitable hangover?”

“God yes please.” My thumbs rub circles into my throbbing temples. “And a burger please, jesus I need a burger. And fries, I need fries more than air right now.”

“Fiiine, McDonalds too, I guess.”

“Thanks, Stell.” I say soft and genuine.

“Of course, Nick.”

I smile kindly at her. Tomorrow I’ll probably regret everything I said and did tonight but right now, I’m getting junk food with my sister at midnight and the world is quiet. Everything feels okay, even if it only lasts until the end of my Mcdonald’s.

I wave Stella goodnight as she walks into her room. With a twist of my doorknob, I open my door and my feet halt in their tracks. My swollen eyes widen at the last thing I expected to be in my room.

“What are you doing here?” I question before I can even really gauge my own reaction.

Noah sits on the edge of the bed still in the same outfit from the fair.

“I went looking for you.” His brown eyes find mine and it makes my chest ache the same way it did earlier on the bench.

“You did?” My square shoulders soften briefly before straightening back up again. “And why would you do that?” I snap at him.

The space between his brows burrows slightly, seemingly confused by my harsh response. “Well, I-I,” He presses his lips together while his fingers pick at his nails. “I was worried about you.”

My eyes dart down to the carpet and try to ignore the way my heart swells at his words. I swallow hard and curl my fists at my sides. “Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”

“Oh okay…” He trails off and lets his gaze drop to his fiddling hands and bouncy leg. “I just wanted to make sure, I guess.”

“Okay well, you’ve made sure. Now I really just wanna go to bed, if that’s okay with you.” I cross all of the two feet from the doorway to my dresser and forcefully yank the top drawer open.

He carefully lifts from the bed and meets me where I dig for clothes. “Nicholas.” His voice is gentle and full of concern, but no matter how much it should comfort me it just fans the flames of my resentment.

“What now, Noah.” I sigh harshly and turn to him.

“What did you mean at the fair?”

After the food adventures I had with Stella, it had almost erased what I had said from my memory. Too bad it couldn’t have done that to him too. I was really banking on him being too drunk to even remember. But I should know better than that – Noah and his very selective memory.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feign confidence and turn back away from him to focus on finding PJs. My chest and limbs fill with a feeling similar to sitting in the waiting room of a principal’s office. Suddenly, I’m small and the room triples in size while the oxygen rapidly depletes.

“You know what I’m talking about Nick.” His fingers gently grab my arm to turn my attention to him again. “Do you… not like girls? Do you think you’re-”

“Gah! No!” I all but spit out. The thought of what he was about to say makes me want to vomit all over again. “No, I’m not…that.”

“O-oh, okay…but if you were, you know you could tell me, right? You know you can tell me anything, like we’ve always done.” His voice is quiet and tender, even through the vodka I can still smell on his breath.

“Oh my god Noah.” I grasp at the air in frustration. “No. I just said it to, to throw you off. So you’d let me go, so you’d leave me the fuck alone.”

“Oh.” His hand slips from my arm and he takes a step away from me.

If this was any other night, after any other event, I would apologize, minimize it, and say that I’m just having a bad night. But it’s not any other night and I don’t have enough energy in my entire body to make more excuses.

My fingers dig into the bundle of PJs I hold, and my stare stays straight on his chest. “I just, want to take a shower and go to bed. Okay?”

“Right.” He sucks his teeth and nods. “Okay, enjoy your shower then.”

“I will, thanks.” I reply blandly, shoving the overflowing drawer closed.

-

The world seems much lighter now that the thick layer of carnival muck, the remnants of alcohol and vomit were washed down the drain. I scrunch my hair with a terry cloth towel while I walk to my room from the shower.

I’m confused to find my door cracked open with the big light still shining through the door. I spent almost an hour trying to get all the grime off and let the water ease the pulsing in my head. Surely, Noah wouldn’t still be up, it’s almost 3 am.

I quietly creak the door open to find the bed empty.

“Huh?” I whisper to myself and make my way over to the disheveled bed. Noah’s nowhere to be found, but instead there’s a plushy on his pillow. I hook my finger through the plastic carabiner attached to it and lift it to my eyeline. It’s a stuffed tuxedo cat with sunglasses that look similar to the knockoff RayBans I usually wear.

I look back at the pillow and notice there was a note beneath it. I pick it up and unfold it with the cat dangling on my pinky. 

‘Saw this at the fair and thought of you. 

Went to stay over at Kassidy’s so, you can have your room back for the night.

-N’

The breath that escapes from deep in my torso seems to deflate me completely. I knew the slip of up of my words the other day hurt him, more than I thought. A vine of thorns wraps around my throat, each guilt-drenched spike digs into my windpipe. He left because of me.

I take a precarious seat on the edge of the bed, holding each item in each hand. My palm aches to crush the note in my fingers but my eyes burn with salty tears too. All while the cat swells my chest in the saddest way possible. How could someone feel so many things at once? 

I have no screams, no yells, no sobs left in me and my body begs for rest. I can’t let myself wallow in whatever this is, how could I make sense of it now? When my brain is so hazy and my eyes are so sleepy. 

I use the back of my hand to wipe away the tiny bit of tears left in my eyes and set the note and the stuffed kitty on my bedside table. The bed creaks when I bury my knee into the mattress and let myself fall to the middle. 

The bed feels colder and emptier without him in it, but right now I’m not sure this is where I want him to be. 

I reach up to tug the lamp light off and pull the duvet around my shivering body. 

After about 20 mins of stirring with no hope of falling asleep, I give in and just stare into the stillness of the room. My eyes finally adjust to the darkness and start making a sort of mental inventory list counting all of the items scattered around my room that aren’t mine. I try to remember what the room looked like before he moved in, but I can’t.

While there are growing pains, I can’t imagine my room without him in it anymore. He’s tangled himself into the very essence of the space. 

Drawing my gaze across the room, I land on the kitty he’d gotten for me at the fair. I reach across the space and bring it to the bed, placing it in his spot. 

It fills a tiny void in the vast emptiness of the bed and for about 15 minutes I cling to the minor comfort it brings, believing it might help me fall asleep. 

I let out a frustrated sigh. The heaviness of the night drops onto my shoulder blades and finds refuge beneath my eyes. Once again a venomous coil tightens itself around my ribs.

It is mostly confusion that I feel, the only factor I can distinctly pick out. 

The only other one I can somewhat recognize is, loneliness. 

I glance back over to the cat and it dawns on me the possible reason I can't fall asleep. My fingertips tap rhythmically against the mattress cycling through my options until I find one. 

I wrap my thick duvet around my body and grab my pillow before shuffling down the hall. I gently tap my knuckle against her door then crack it open just a bit.

“Stella.” I whisper-yell into her room. “Stella.”

She shifts in her bed and cracks one eye open at me. “Hm?” She groans sleepily.

I let myself in and scuffle across the carpet to her bedside. “Can I sleep on your floor?” I request in a hush. 

“What? Why?” Her brows knit together with her eyes barely open. “What’s wrong with your bed?”

I chew on my bottom lip searching my brain for an answer that makes any sense but there’s only one. 

“It’s empty.” 

Next Chapter -> 06 - Like Us*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @concretenoah @kingdomof-omens @the-hell-i-overcame @blackveilomens @xxrainstorm [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

Thank you for the support on this series and on my other series, Virality. I appreciate it more than you know. I love reading your comments and asks. I am incredibly grateful for them, thank you.

[tskumoyuuma]

I think it's completely valid if u dont like how riley was handled in midnight mass. it's a touchy subject, a sensitive one.

there was certainly a way to write it so it didnt have to end up that way. he didnt have to make that choice. he still tells erin and erin believes him. might have to prove it still, but it could have been done. techincally, he didnt have to do that. he could have made it to the end w the rest of them.

but that's not the kind of story midnight mass is. midnight mass is a tragedy for most characters. almost all of them, and riley is def included. in my opinion, in this kind of a story, riley's arc and character and decisions are perfect.

because its obvious from the start of the show how suicidal he is. let's not beat around the bush here, because that's what he is. he maybe wasnt actively planning on doing anything, but he said multiple times to multiple people how he didnt think there was anything left for him in life, that he served no purpose at all.

a show that wasnt a tragedy couldv given that to him in a nicer, more hopeful way. given him a purpose to continue living and finally moving on from the accident.

but midnight mass Is a tragedy, and that's not what happens.

instead, riley essentially commits suicide. he says he does this so erin will believe his story. and yes, she does believe him when it's all over and shes stopped screaming, but that's not the whole point of that scene. it's a scene that the show has been leading towards since the beginning.

when riley and erin talk about what happens after death, riley says he will have a purpose. his body will continue on in the world and universe long after hes truly gone from it. and he said this because, again, he was convinced he had no purpose left in life, and so the only way he could get it was in death.

and the thing is, he was so close to actually getting better. he could never imagine his future, could only see himself alone in that boat for so long. but the night before it happens, he sees erin there. and it's a start. it couldv been a start, had things gone differently. it couldv been the thing that helped him find that purpose, not just in death but in life, too.

but midnight mass is a tragedy, and riley's story is a tragedy, and so that's not what happens.

instead he gets turned, and suddenly hes an actual monster, one with an addictive urge that hes somewhat familiar with. he understands what the urge means, what following it would do to his loved ones.

so, he does the only thing he could think of doing. he takes himself to a place where he has nowhere to go, and he kills himself.

and in the process, he warns erin. if he hadnt, everyone on that island would have died. his death, his suicide, serves a purpose, not just for the narrative but for himself. because what was done to him erased any chance of an actual future he couldv had, any chance at the purpose he was seeking out. it even erased the purpose of his death. the only way he could die was to burn himself completely into dust. his body would have sustained microscopic life at the very least. his dust would not have

so by doing this, by essentially killing himself, it's not that riley's arc is thrown away for a few tears or narrative sense. his last scene is the ultimate conclusion to his story in this show that fits both his arc and the shows genre. and i wouldnt have changed it

[blossoms-phan]

guys can someone reassure me that you want to read phan smut

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Understandably So no one mentions charles when talking about the Logan movie and again Understandably So This Aint Bout Him however i do confess that as someone who had never seen Logan until like. a month ago when i was binging all the movies and without knowing a single thing about it aside from laura i cant lie i was in fact jumpscared by him being there. especially for at least like 3/4s of the movie

[isa-ah]

making a fursona is fun but getting to retire an old traumatized time capsule of yourself and make a new, happy, grown version of yourself is so fuckin nice.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive been unhealthily fixated on kubosai for the past few weeks, i just have no idea how to put it into words. kuboyasu aren and saiki kusuo are in love btw

[tommygotwrittenoff]

confession time!!! can't wait for bt bones