People were staring at his hat. Again.
((Garren Mortimer: Pregame Start))
There were some confused looks, or people just trying to get a better read of what was written on the front of his trucker cap. There were probably people who were just glancing at him as he passed by them. The majority of them, though, he knew were looking at him with disdain and disapproval. Glaring at him, choice words primed on their lips, ready to volley at him the moment he lingered near them.
He’d done this whole thing time and time again. He knew the script, inside and out, back to front and upside down.
Garren kept his head low as he trudged through Harrison Central, occasionally glancing up to look at the stores he was passing by. Sure, he could have just not worn the cap. Obviously. He’d already thought of that. But, like, what would be the point? Wasn’t as though his reputation could sink any lower. All the people passing by him would probably forget him as soon as they got home, anyway. And if he ever had to come back to this miserable city, god forbid, he’d be unrecognisable. Hair cut and washed, change of outfit, change of everything.
He hoped.
So, like, whatever. It sucked, it sucked a lot, but it was just temporary. Just had to suck it up and take it on the chin like a man, until he could get the fuck out of here. Just had to… deal with everybody around him despising him. And spend a week packed into a room with three other guys who would probably happily throttle him, rather than speak to him. Fun.
Man, he was getting real fucking good at bumming himself out.
Garren came to a halt outside a Subway on the second floor of the mall. He was getting kinda hungry, and, hopefully, a sandwich would do something to cheer him up for a bit. He pushed the front entrance open and took his place at the back of the queue, ignoring the burning sensation that came with the dozens of eyes he knew were focused on him.
God. He’d worn this t-shirt three times without washing it, now, and he couldn’t remember if it was the one with a big stain on the lower back or not. He hadn’t washed his hair for… even longer than that, and he instinctively ran his hand through it at the back, face twisting into a frown at how greasy it felt. Fuck, and he didn’t even have any idea what he wanted to get in his sandwich.
Whatever. Whatever. Temporary. This was all just temporary.
Rain in July
open to anyone who wants to interact with this greasy loser
Rain in July
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
((I have no idea where I'm from.)
Interestingly enough, Willow managed to walk into someone from school, and it had to be Garren. Greasy, probably horny, and vaguely depressed would be the way she would describe him if Willow had to write a report after a crime was committed. Willow believed that Garren was just being edgy when he went to school with his hat. The same way that the other guy had a MAGA hat. Garren, however, managed to surprise Willow. He really went out looking like that.
In her EB Games bag, her two games laid there. She had spent about eighty dollars on them, and she just wanted to go home and skip class. Instead of just walking away, Willow froze right there. She stared at Garren, at his hat, and at his overall greasiness. Willow's lips were glued together. She had to restrain herself from saying something.
Don't say anything and just keep walking. Willow started to walk again. In her head, Willow was shaking herself. She just wanted to go hide in the bathroom where Garren couldn't speak to her. She liked hiding in bathrooms. It really made her feel like Lindsay Lohan. She wasn't walking toward him when her heel got stuck in something. It was sticky. Probably someone had dropped his milkshake and didn't bother to tell anyone to clean up. Her ankle twisted and she directly on Garren.
She'd need a shower. Maybe two.
Interestingly enough, Willow managed to walk into someone from school, and it had to be Garren. Greasy, probably horny, and vaguely depressed would be the way she would describe him if Willow had to write a report after a crime was committed. Willow believed that Garren was just being edgy when he went to school with his hat. The same way that the other guy had a MAGA hat. Garren, however, managed to surprise Willow. He really went out looking like that.
In her EB Games bag, her two games laid there. She had spent about eighty dollars on them, and she just wanted to go home and skip class. Instead of just walking away, Willow froze right there. She stared at Garren, at his hat, and at his overall greasiness. Willow's lips were glued together. She had to restrain herself from saying something.
Don't say anything and just keep walking. Willow started to walk again. In her head, Willow was shaking herself. She just wanted to go hide in the bathroom where Garren couldn't speak to her. She liked hiding in bathrooms. It really made her feel like Lindsay Lohan. She wasn't walking toward him when her heel got stuck in something. It was sticky. Probably someone had dropped his milkshake and didn't bother to tell anyone to clean up. Her ankle twisted and she directly on Garren.
She'd need a shower. Maybe two.
Garren’s eyes flitted across the brightly lit up board above the service counter, showing off all the available subs, draped in cheerful hues of yellow and green, as he tried to ignore the burning gaze of the crowd surrounding him. The meatball marinara sub was real tempting right now, but his eyes kept on drifting down to the calorie count and pulling his face into a tight scowl.
It wasn’t as though he was worried about getting fat or anything; it was apparently impossible for him to gain any weight no matter what, which was some sorta weird blessing. Although the same deal went for gaining any sort of muscle definition, which was much less appreciated. Instead, his fingers instinctively traced across his chin, brushing across a couple of acne spots, and as he pulled his hand away, he could feel the distinctive sensation of grease on his fingertips.
Goddamnit. Didn’t matter what he did, there was always something on his face that decided to fuck up and let the rest of the team down. It was a vicious cycle, too; as soon as he found a new pimple or outbreak of acne on his face, the guilt about eating unhealthily would be outweighed by his brain telling him that it didn’t matter what he ate now anyway. Well, his brain, or Demetri, convincing him to eat some godawful new flavour of Doritos.
Of course, he couldn’t even enjoy a goddamn sandwich, could he?
Garren had just decided to throw caution to the wind and go for the meatball marinara (and probably get a footlong as well, because why break the habits of a fucking lifetime), when he felt something collide with his back, and he jolted, stumbling forwards into the person next in line. He ignored the stare they were no doubt giving him, and rounded on whoever had fallen on top of him, ready to… well, probably give them a death glare of his very own.
Oh, shit, he knew this person.
Willow was… somebody. Somebody who Garren might have gotten along better with thanks to a shared love of video games, if only the games she was interested in weren’t dull as ditchwater 140-hour long snorefests. And if he and Demetri hadn’t spent most of their interactions with her calling her a ‘special snowflake’ and taunting her about ‘needing her safe spaces’. And… a whole host of other reasons.
Urgh.
Odds were, Willow wouldn’t want anything to do with him, but… fuck it. Might as well try and have good intentions, here. A quick glance around the Subway showed nobody else that Garren recognised. Who did he need to try and impress by being his usual self right now? No-one, that was who.
“Hey,” Garren mumbled, offering a hand to help Willow back up. “You okay?”
It wasn’t as though he was worried about getting fat or anything; it was apparently impossible for him to gain any weight no matter what, which was some sorta weird blessing. Although the same deal went for gaining any sort of muscle definition, which was much less appreciated. Instead, his fingers instinctively traced across his chin, brushing across a couple of acne spots, and as he pulled his hand away, he could feel the distinctive sensation of grease on his fingertips.
Goddamnit. Didn’t matter what he did, there was always something on his face that decided to fuck up and let the rest of the team down. It was a vicious cycle, too; as soon as he found a new pimple or outbreak of acne on his face, the guilt about eating unhealthily would be outweighed by his brain telling him that it didn’t matter what he ate now anyway. Well, his brain, or Demetri, convincing him to eat some godawful new flavour of Doritos.
Of course, he couldn’t even enjoy a goddamn sandwich, could he?
Garren had just decided to throw caution to the wind and go for the meatball marinara (and probably get a footlong as well, because why break the habits of a fucking lifetime), when he felt something collide with his back, and he jolted, stumbling forwards into the person next in line. He ignored the stare they were no doubt giving him, and rounded on whoever had fallen on top of him, ready to… well, probably give them a death glare of his very own.
Oh, shit, he knew this person.
Willow was… somebody. Somebody who Garren might have gotten along better with thanks to a shared love of video games, if only the games she was interested in weren’t dull as ditchwater 140-hour long snorefests. And if he and Demetri hadn’t spent most of their interactions with her calling her a ‘special snowflake’ and taunting her about ‘needing her safe spaces’. And… a whole host of other reasons.
Urgh.
Odds were, Willow wouldn’t want anything to do with him, but… fuck it. Might as well try and have good intentions, here. A quick glance around the Subway showed nobody else that Garren recognised. Who did he need to try and impress by being his usual self right now? No-one, that was who.
“Hey,” Garren mumbled, offering a hand to help Willow back up. “You okay?”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Don't be a sociopath. Please, don't be a sociopath. Don't say "you can make fries out of your grease." Don't do it. Don't.
Willow's flash flushed red. As embarrassing was falling in public, it was made worse by knowing someone in the public. While she wasn't physically injured other than ankle that vaguely stinged, her day out to the mall officially was tainted by someone's milkshake. Her knees were on the floor, one of her hand still holding her bag and the other twisted on the floor.
Garren didn't ignore her. A little surprise since he usually snobbed her or had nasty remarks to say. She was surprised when Garren held his hand toward her. Her throat squeezed. That sure was an alien gesture from this boy who wore a #meninist hat.
"I'm not," she did grabbed his hand, however, signaling to Garren to pull her back up.
Willow's flash flushed red. As embarrassing was falling in public, it was made worse by knowing someone in the public. While she wasn't physically injured other than ankle that vaguely stinged, her day out to the mall officially was tainted by someone's milkshake. Her knees were on the floor, one of her hand still holding her bag and the other twisted on the floor.
Garren didn't ignore her. A little surprise since he usually snobbed her or had nasty remarks to say. She was surprised when Garren held his hand toward her. Her throat squeezed. That sure was an alien gesture from this boy who wore a #meninist hat.
"I'm not," she did grabbed his hand, however, signaling to Garren to pull her back up.
This was already going way better than any of his previous interactions with Willow. Hell, it was going much better than the vast majority of his interaction with any girl. Which was real fucking sad, considering that all she’d done as give him a terse two-word sentence after colliding with the back of him. Christ, shocking that calling every woman he talked to a ‘venomous cunt’ and telling every other person on League that he was gonna fuck their mother didn’t make him popular with the ladies, who could have seen that one coming.
He knew every girl at George Hunter hated him already, he didn’t need to keep bludgeoning himself over the head with that fact.
The difference between Garren’s hand and Willlow’s, as he took a firm grasp of hers to pull her back up, was night and day. It wasn’t just the size difference; Willow’s was tiny and fragile, so delicate that Garren thought he might end up shattering it in his grip. Her hand was soft where his was dry and hairy. It was… a weird sensation. Unfamiliar. Kinda made him want to start using moisteuriser or something, but Demetri would probably call him a pussy and a cuck if he did.
Whatever. If Demetri was in this position he’d have creamed his pants by now, so he had no fucking room to talk.
“Oh,” Garren muttered, responding to Willow’s statement as soon as she was back on her feet. “That’s, uh… That’s pretty shitty, huh.”
He stood there, awkwardly, halfway between facing her and turning around to stare intently into the back of the person ahead of him in the queue, for several seconds. He tried to run his hand through the back of his hair again, but flinched as soon as he felt the sweat sticking to his fingertips. He could have sworn it wasn’t that bad a couple of seconds ago.
It was then that some dumb motherfucking part of Garren’s brain decided that continuing the conversation was a good idea.
“So, you, uh… getting a sandwich as well?”
No, you fucking gorilla, she was coming in here to take out a fucking loan. Jesus fucking Christ. What a great fucking question to ask, you absolute Sherlock fucking Holmes.
Garren felt the beads of sweat building up on his forehead, as he waited and prayed for the floor to open up underneath him.
He knew every girl at George Hunter hated him already, he didn’t need to keep bludgeoning himself over the head with that fact.
The difference between Garren’s hand and Willlow’s, as he took a firm grasp of hers to pull her back up, was night and day. It wasn’t just the size difference; Willow’s was tiny and fragile, so delicate that Garren thought he might end up shattering it in his grip. Her hand was soft where his was dry and hairy. It was… a weird sensation. Unfamiliar. Kinda made him want to start using moisteuriser or something, but Demetri would probably call him a pussy and a cuck if he did.
Whatever. If Demetri was in this position he’d have creamed his pants by now, so he had no fucking room to talk.
“Oh,” Garren muttered, responding to Willow’s statement as soon as she was back on her feet. “That’s, uh… That’s pretty shitty, huh.”
He stood there, awkwardly, halfway between facing her and turning around to stare intently into the back of the person ahead of him in the queue, for several seconds. He tried to run his hand through the back of his hair again, but flinched as soon as he felt the sweat sticking to his fingertips. He could have sworn it wasn’t that bad a couple of seconds ago.
It was then that some dumb motherfucking part of Garren’s brain decided that continuing the conversation was a good idea.
“So, you, uh… getting a sandwich as well?”
No, you fucking gorilla, she was coming in here to take out a fucking loan. Jesus fucking Christ. What a great fucking question to ask, you absolute Sherlock fucking Holmes.
Garren felt the beads of sweat building up on his forehead, as he waited and prayed for the floor to open up underneath him.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Garren was, hm. It was hard to really explain because, like, Demetri knew the dude was a fucking loser and then some. Precisely the kind of bad news that Mercy would tell him to swerve away 'til his arm flab rippled like a flag in the wind.
It was kind of the point. Who the hell else in this world really got what the little man went through? It was kinda like Canon's rise to the Oval Office, if Demetri really thought about it. People ignoring problems and then getting all offended when those suffering hit back. Garren was that kind of dude. Forging his own path in life, getting way ahead of the popular vote on the sort of real enlightened shit that modern society was just too pansy and scared to confront. Like, now, for instance. Garren looked gross as fuck, but that was obviously just a statement, about the natural fucked-up ness of beta bitches around the world demanding men put on their nines and sculpt up their abdominal sixes and be personable tens when they hardly put in effort themselves to have real heart and soul and hobbies. All that.
Demetri was honestly just a coward, yeah, that was it. Garren was one of those guys, like Max. Way too next level for Demetri to even begin to pretend to aspire to be. The kind of company Demetri wanted to keep because they kept it real.
The other girl, Willow, was real... something, anyways. She looked like those weird ballerina girls with the innumerable Freudian daddy issues or whatever. Demetri plus Garren plus Willow had only ever meant snide comments and general cuckery in the past. All in good fun anyways, just the usual chick who took things way too seriously when buried deep up the caverns of her own ass. Looked like Garren was helping her out with something? Nothing wrong with a little decent chivalry, much as women had let it die in this day and age.
"Need another hand there?" Demetri smiled at Garren.. and like, kind of, at Willow. It looked kind of painful because it was kind of painful, but he was used to the whole 'estrogen means end of coherent thought' think. It was even worse because Demetri was opening his engagement into barely decent society with bullshit asinine words proven obviously unneeded by the situation. Man, and he was thinking today that he might have avoided the sperging at least until Dad inevitably gave him the big important Prom Talk that he would not need (nor would he need the condoms discretely palmed off with a wink, come on, Dad).
"Also, holding up the line." A gang's worth of sombrero dudes behind them looked a bit confused, looking this way and that way for the queue they allegedly had to fall into.
It was kind of the point. Who the hell else in this world really got what the little man went through? It was kinda like Canon's rise to the Oval Office, if Demetri really thought about it. People ignoring problems and then getting all offended when those suffering hit back. Garren was that kind of dude. Forging his own path in life, getting way ahead of the popular vote on the sort of real enlightened shit that modern society was just too pansy and scared to confront. Like, now, for instance. Garren looked gross as fuck, but that was obviously just a statement, about the natural fucked-up ness of beta bitches around the world demanding men put on their nines and sculpt up their abdominal sixes and be personable tens when they hardly put in effort themselves to have real heart and soul and hobbies. All that.
Demetri was honestly just a coward, yeah, that was it. Garren was one of those guys, like Max. Way too next level for Demetri to even begin to pretend to aspire to be. The kind of company Demetri wanted to keep because they kept it real.
The other girl, Willow, was real... something, anyways. She looked like those weird ballerina girls with the innumerable Freudian daddy issues or whatever. Demetri plus Garren plus Willow had only ever meant snide comments and general cuckery in the past. All in good fun anyways, just the usual chick who took things way too seriously when buried deep up the caverns of her own ass. Looked like Garren was helping her out with something? Nothing wrong with a little decent chivalry, much as women had let it die in this day and age.
"Need another hand there?" Demetri smiled at Garren.. and like, kind of, at Willow. It looked kind of painful because it was kind of painful, but he was used to the whole 'estrogen means end of coherent thought' think. It was even worse because Demetri was opening his engagement into barely decent society with bullshit asinine words proven obviously unneeded by the situation. Man, and he was thinking today that he might have avoided the sperging at least until Dad inevitably gave him the big important Prom Talk that he would not need (nor would he need the condoms discretely palmed off with a wink, come on, Dad).
"Also, holding up the line." A gang's worth of sombrero dudes behind them looked a bit confused, looking this way and that way for the queue they allegedly had to fall into.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
"Yes. Thank you."
Well, that sure was an interesting developpement. She didn't know there was a bus of incel that got to their stop for their daily outings. With her two hands, she grabbed both Demetri's arm and Garren's hand as she pulled herself back up. She didn't expect to do damage, but apparently her nails were sharp. Oops. If she could do a shrug emoji, she would.
"Well, sorry about that," she put her hand in her purse searching for something, "do you want some neosporin?"
She did anything to avoid looking at them. It was both out of shame and embarassement. Tripping in public was already enough, but being seen and interacting near both Demetri and Garren was way beyond anything she could handle. Her face was red as she searched for the cream. Her eyes darted to the queue that was gathering behind the group, and she felt the dreading anxiety piling up on top of her. Why couldn't she just become a NEET and stay inside all day?
"Anyways, since Garren invited me, I'm getting something to eat."
Well, that sure was an interesting developpement. She didn't know there was a bus of incel that got to their stop for their daily outings. With her two hands, she grabbed both Demetri's arm and Garren's hand as she pulled herself back up. She didn't expect to do damage, but apparently her nails were sharp. Oops. If she could do a shrug emoji, she would.
"Well, sorry about that," she put her hand in her purse searching for something, "do you want some neosporin?"
She did anything to avoid looking at them. It was both out of shame and embarassement. Tripping in public was already enough, but being seen and interacting near both Demetri and Garren was way beyond anything she could handle. Her face was red as she searched for the cream. Her eyes darted to the queue that was gathering behind the group, and she felt the dreading anxiety piling up on top of her. Why couldn't she just become a NEET and stay inside all day?
"Anyways, since Garren invited me, I'm getting something to eat."
Oh, cool, that’s great, that was exactly what Garren wanted, more bullshit to pile on top of the ever growing mound of fuck that this day was turning out to be, a veritable little cherry on top of this sopping sundae of shit.
It wasn’t a normal reaction to seeing your best friend turn up, but Demetri wasn’t a normal friend, really. He was… essentially Garren’s best friend by default, the only person at George Hunter who was willing to talk with him unprompted, and for longer than five minutes. They’d been thicker than thieves once, sharing in their unjust ‘oppression’ at the hands of feminazis and ess jay double yous, laughing at all the garbage cancer that had infiltrated the anime community, and making fun of normies and their boring memes, and more importantly, of anyone who dared to have any strong opinions about anything.
He still talked to Demetri every day, and on occasion their opinions even overlapped, but every now and then the other boy would say something that would completely throw Garren for a loop, and make him realise that, yes, that was exactly what he sounded like to the rest of the student populous.
He couldn’t hate Demetri for that, but he also sure couldn’t wait to cut him adrift as soon as he got the chance.
Anyways, that was for future Garren to do. Present Garren was fully aware that Demetri was gonna say something or start some shit, probably containing the word ‘triggered’ or ‘snowflake’, and Garren was… probably gonna go along with it. It was so very easy to slip back into, and you couldn’t disappoint anyone when they didn’t expect anything from you anyway.
“Nah, it’s… fine,” Garren muttered, shoving his hand into his pocket as soon as Willow was back to her feet, making sure neither she nor Demetri saw the scratch on his hand where her nails had dug in. That was something he and Demetri still agreed on; guys couldn’t be going around showing weakness or acting like something as tiny as this was hurting them. What worth was a man if he couldn’t be a stand-up, reliable backbone of any situation?
He shot a glance at Willow, concern briefly crossing his face. He had absolutely not invited her to eat, and no doubt Demetri would pick up on that, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now but give a small, strained smile and act like, yes, he had been a masterfully chivalrous guy just now, what of it?
“Yeah, uh… guess this is a party now or something? Heh. You… uh, gonna join us, Demetri?”
It wasn’t a normal reaction to seeing your best friend turn up, but Demetri wasn’t a normal friend, really. He was… essentially Garren’s best friend by default, the only person at George Hunter who was willing to talk with him unprompted, and for longer than five minutes. They’d been thicker than thieves once, sharing in their unjust ‘oppression’ at the hands of feminazis and ess jay double yous, laughing at all the garbage cancer that had infiltrated the anime community, and making fun of normies and their boring memes, and more importantly, of anyone who dared to have any strong opinions about anything.
He still talked to Demetri every day, and on occasion their opinions even overlapped, but every now and then the other boy would say something that would completely throw Garren for a loop, and make him realise that, yes, that was exactly what he sounded like to the rest of the student populous.
He couldn’t hate Demetri for that, but he also sure couldn’t wait to cut him adrift as soon as he got the chance.
Anyways, that was for future Garren to do. Present Garren was fully aware that Demetri was gonna say something or start some shit, probably containing the word ‘triggered’ or ‘snowflake’, and Garren was… probably gonna go along with it. It was so very easy to slip back into, and you couldn’t disappoint anyone when they didn’t expect anything from you anyway.
“Nah, it’s… fine,” Garren muttered, shoving his hand into his pocket as soon as Willow was back to her feet, making sure neither she nor Demetri saw the scratch on his hand where her nails had dug in. That was something he and Demetri still agreed on; guys couldn’t be going around showing weakness or acting like something as tiny as this was hurting them. What worth was a man if he couldn’t be a stand-up, reliable backbone of any situation?
He shot a glance at Willow, concern briefly crossing his face. He had absolutely not invited her to eat, and no doubt Demetri would pick up on that, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now but give a small, strained smile and act like, yes, he had been a masterfully chivalrous guy just now, what of it?
“Yeah, uh… guess this is a party now or something? Heh. You… uh, gonna join us, Demetri?”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Question marks abound.
That was it? The problem was solved? They were hanging out with some girl now? It wasn't supposed to be this easy, right? Demetri would have figured, at the very least, a few more jabs would have been exchanged in each direction. The lack of pettiness seemed like a let down. Like, it was too easy, or too unexpected, or some shit. Demetri almost felt creeped out.
"You? Invited her." Betraying the cause, wasn't it? Garren to be yet another soyboy spawned on this lonely earth, a white knight riding forth as the horse bridled by some feminist bull to his cuck.
... Well, yeah. Honestly it did sound like a potentially decent time. Demetri was utterly surprised it was at all happening in the first place. But, he trusted Garren's judgement on this one. Whatever was happening was happening and Demetri was not going to question it- his handful of brain cells would be too busy pretending he knew how to socialize when given the rare and valuable opportunity. Well, like. He still didn't trust Willow, of course. Once a lame bitch, always and forever more. But all dogs had their sleeping days, he guessed. Or maybe, like, he just wanted to pounce on the first opportunity to not be his particular brand of perennial loser he'd been given in heaven knew how long.
"Sounds like a plan." Demetri shuffled himself into the line behind the others and started to pick at his pockets. For lack of other things to do with his conspicuously there hands. The patch of his skin Willow had grabbed at tingled a bit, but he tried utterly too hard to ignore that virgin-tier aspect of biology.
"Man. Anyone else from our school sees us out like this and they'll be tripping balls."
That was it? The problem was solved? They were hanging out with some girl now? It wasn't supposed to be this easy, right? Demetri would have figured, at the very least, a few more jabs would have been exchanged in each direction. The lack of pettiness seemed like a let down. Like, it was too easy, or too unexpected, or some shit. Demetri almost felt creeped out.
"You? Invited her." Betraying the cause, wasn't it? Garren to be yet another soyboy spawned on this lonely earth, a white knight riding forth as the horse bridled by some feminist bull to his cuck.
... Well, yeah. Honestly it did sound like a potentially decent time. Demetri was utterly surprised it was at all happening in the first place. But, he trusted Garren's judgement on this one. Whatever was happening was happening and Demetri was not going to question it- his handful of brain cells would be too busy pretending he knew how to socialize when given the rare and valuable opportunity. Well, like. He still didn't trust Willow, of course. Once a lame bitch, always and forever more. But all dogs had their sleeping days, he guessed. Or maybe, like, he just wanted to pounce on the first opportunity to not be his particular brand of perennial loser he'd been given in heaven knew how long.
"Sounds like a plan." Demetri shuffled himself into the line behind the others and started to pick at his pockets. For lack of other things to do with his conspicuously there hands. The patch of his skin Willow had grabbed at tingled a bit, but he tried utterly too hard to ignore that virgin-tier aspect of biology.
"Man. Anyone else from our school sees us out like this and they'll be tripping balls."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
When Willow saw the concern in Garren's eyes, a tiny part of her was satisfied. While she would have preferred fear, she was okay to settle on that. Since nobody wanted her neosporin, she put it back in her purse. She hoped one day her neosporin come in handy, but it's been hanging out in her purse since the day she put it there. Honestly, it was probably out of date if neosporin had a date of expiration.
Continuing down the queue with the two boys with her, Willow's mind started to fabricate a plan. Originally, Willow just wanted some water, but now, she wanted something extra salty. Her eyes wandered over the menu listing, and she was sad when she realized they didn't offer fries. She would have to settle on a salad. Whatever, it was a salad. It wouldn't bite back.
She turned around toward the two boys. She couldn't call them men despite them being taller than her. They felt like they were 12 year olds figuring out where baby come from. Did they think girls peed from their vagina, too? That wasn't a question she could ask, or if she did, it would make everyone in the queue very uncomfortable. She did ask a question, however. One she had to restrain herself from laughing.
"So guys..." she paused, trying her best to look genuinely curious, "when did you start dating?"
Continuing down the queue with the two boys with her, Willow's mind started to fabricate a plan. Originally, Willow just wanted some water, but now, she wanted something extra salty. Her eyes wandered over the menu listing, and she was sad when she realized they didn't offer fries. She would have to settle on a salad. Whatever, it was a salad. It wouldn't bite back.
She turned around toward the two boys. She couldn't call them men despite them being taller than her. They felt like they were 12 year olds figuring out where baby come from. Did they think girls peed from their vagina, too? That wasn't a question she could ask, or if she did, it would make everyone in the queue very uncomfortable. She did ask a question, however. One she had to restrain herself from laughing.
"So guys..." she paused, trying her best to look genuinely curious, "when did you start dating?"
Yep, there it was. The accusatory tone in Demetri’s voice, the knowing look, the underlying idea that Garren was just yet another pathetic sap led on by his dick, cucked out of his money and livelihood, just because some 6/10 wanted a sandwich. Or some dumb shit like that. And all Garren could do was give Demetri a fragile smile, growing weaker by the second.
What could he say that wouldn’t cause his only friend at George Hunter to lose faith in him? The truth? Yeah, that’d go down fucking well. “So turns out women don’t like it when you tell them to get behind the counter at Subway and make a sandwich for you, and a bunch of white knights get all up in arms about it too, and I don’t really like being hated any more tee bee aitch”? Demetri would think he’d gone totally retarded, and Willow would just think he was one of those pathetic white knights, shedding his skin just for the miniscule chance of getting to fuck her.
“Yeah, well, that’s what they get for assuming shit, yeah?” Garren ended up mumbling, just trying to spout shit that he thought would satisfy Demetri. “We’re not like those walking slabs of meat, we don’t just talk to females cause we want somewhere to stash our dicks, we-“
Then Willow decided she had to say something and fucking hell, if Garren had been drinking something at the time he’d have spat it all back out in her face. Where the fuck did that come from? Alright, obviously he’d misjudged this whole thing, and Willow was just another one of the stupid braindead gorillas that permeated George Hunter, the same sort of moron that saw two girls standing near each other on TV and immediately flooded his Facebook timeline with posts about how they were obviously a couple, like, come the fuck on.
“Fuck off,” Garren spat, a touch too loudly, enough to catch the attention of the people around him. He steadfastedly ignored them, lowering his voice anyway. “We’re not doing anything like that bullshit, I’m not a f-“
He bit his tongue, the word inches away from escaping his lips. He should say it, for appearances sake. Demetri would expect him to, hell, Willow probably would too. But he knew that people got real fucking touchy about it; he didn’t totally get why, it was just a word as far as he was concerned, but if he was gonna make a concerted effort to be better, it would help to just… eliminate shit like that from his vocabulary, even before he started looking up why exactly people were getting all up in arms about it.
He’d just have to… catch up with Demetri after all this and spin some bullshit about how he didn’t wanna cause a scene, didn’t wanna go REEEing about in the middle of a Subway and end up on some cringe compilation on YouTube. Yeah, that’d work.
“We’re not. Grow up, yeah?”
What could he say that wouldn’t cause his only friend at George Hunter to lose faith in him? The truth? Yeah, that’d go down fucking well. “So turns out women don’t like it when you tell them to get behind the counter at Subway and make a sandwich for you, and a bunch of white knights get all up in arms about it too, and I don’t really like being hated any more tee bee aitch”? Demetri would think he’d gone totally retarded, and Willow would just think he was one of those pathetic white knights, shedding his skin just for the miniscule chance of getting to fuck her.
“Yeah, well, that’s what they get for assuming shit, yeah?” Garren ended up mumbling, just trying to spout shit that he thought would satisfy Demetri. “We’re not like those walking slabs of meat, we don’t just talk to females cause we want somewhere to stash our dicks, we-“
Then Willow decided she had to say something and fucking hell, if Garren had been drinking something at the time he’d have spat it all back out in her face. Where the fuck did that come from? Alright, obviously he’d misjudged this whole thing, and Willow was just another one of the stupid braindead gorillas that permeated George Hunter, the same sort of moron that saw two girls standing near each other on TV and immediately flooded his Facebook timeline with posts about how they were obviously a couple, like, come the fuck on.
“Fuck off,” Garren spat, a touch too loudly, enough to catch the attention of the people around him. He steadfastedly ignored them, lowering his voice anyway. “We’re not doing anything like that bullshit, I’m not a f-“
He bit his tongue, the word inches away from escaping his lips. He should say it, for appearances sake. Demetri would expect him to, hell, Willow probably would too. But he knew that people got real fucking touchy about it; he didn’t totally get why, it was just a word as far as he was concerned, but if he was gonna make a concerted effort to be better, it would help to just… eliminate shit like that from his vocabulary, even before he started looking up why exactly people were getting all up in arms about it.
He’d just have to… catch up with Demetri after all this and spin some bullshit about how he didn’t wanna cause a scene, didn’t wanna go REEEing about in the middle of a Subway and end up on some cringe compilation on YouTube. Yeah, that’d work.
“We’re not. Grow up, yeah?”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
Damn it.
Why here, of all places?
She just really wanted a sandwich. Was that really such a hard ask?
CATHERINE ZIER - PREGAME START
Catherine had just finished shopping; she'd been itching to get some new clothes she'd discovered online and managed to find in one of the shops, as well some other things. After finishing her little shopping spree, she'd decided she was hungry and opted to head to the Subway. So lo and behold to her dismay that right there, near the back of the line were two... well, undesirables, she could say. And Willow.
Garren and Demetri were high up on the list of people you just don't talk to. Like, ever. And they were right there in front of her, in the line. Right there. Catherine was almost tempted to just... turn around. In fact the sight of them almost... almost made her lose her appetite right there, but shopping is tiring work, okay? And she couldn't just leave as soon as she entered, because then people would look at her strangely, like one does when they see someone walking down a hallway or a path and then just doing a complete 180 for no reason. That's why people do that thing where they check their phone, to pretend they got some urgent message that caused them to turn around. Catherine's phone was out of battery. Good. Great.
And, well... Catherine kind of just... really wanted a sandwich. As one does, you know?
Oh yeah. Willow was there too. Catherine got along better with her. Probably. It was hard to tell when they barely interacted ever, but it would still probably go better than any interaction she'd have with Garren or Demetri.
Okay, okay Catherine. This is fine. You don't have to talk to them. Just... pretend you don't see them, you don't recognize them, and it'll be fine. Just blend into the background and hope they don't notice you. It's fine.
Hope they don't notice you, she says, being the most eccentrically dressed person in the room. Yeah. Good. Great.
Why here, of all places?
She just really wanted a sandwich. Was that really such a hard ask?
CATHERINE ZIER - PREGAME START
Catherine had just finished shopping; she'd been itching to get some new clothes she'd discovered online and managed to find in one of the shops, as well some other things. After finishing her little shopping spree, she'd decided she was hungry and opted to head to the Subway. So lo and behold to her dismay that right there, near the back of the line were two... well, undesirables, she could say. And Willow.
Garren and Demetri were high up on the list of people you just don't talk to. Like, ever. And they were right there in front of her, in the line. Right there. Catherine was almost tempted to just... turn around. In fact the sight of them almost... almost made her lose her appetite right there, but shopping is tiring work, okay? And she couldn't just leave as soon as she entered, because then people would look at her strangely, like one does when they see someone walking down a hallway or a path and then just doing a complete 180 for no reason. That's why people do that thing where they check their phone, to pretend they got some urgent message that caused them to turn around. Catherine's phone was out of battery. Good. Great.
And, well... Catherine kind of just... really wanted a sandwich. As one does, you know?
Oh yeah. Willow was there too. Catherine got along better with her. Probably. It was hard to tell when they barely interacted ever, but it would still probably go better than any interaction she'd have with Garren or Demetri.
Okay, okay Catherine. This is fine. You don't have to talk to them. Just... pretend you don't see them, you don't recognize them, and it'll be fine. Just blend into the background and hope they don't notice you. It's fine.
Hope they don't notice you, she says, being the most eccentrically dressed person in the room. Yeah. Good. Great.
Demetri quickly nodded. Yep, Garren on it as usual. Kinda defensive but Demetri had always figured that was, like, the radical part of Garren's 200 IQ. Quick to defend, quick to win. Win all sorts of things- the argument, the girl... err... Okay, not so much on winning the girl, but that was like, all part of ideological purity and all that. Demetri had learned in his precious few years on this earth that to become a real man, he had to really stand up for something. Even if it made you the loser, well. One day they'd be the ones laughing, not the ones laughed at. Honest folks like Garren, folks of the working class.
The queue shuffled forward a bit, Willow took the cheap shot. Lame in the brain, like she couldn't have come up with any better. Demetri swore she was doing it on purpose anyways- she had that try hard serious gravity to her tone that douchebags like Colbert and Fallon regurgitated to try and sound clever.
Demetri nodded, softly. Kinda in the background, but he was definitely still there, having his main man's back. Garren had also avoided the quote-unquote 'slur', called such because the sensitive spoiled types nowadays thought freedom of speech was tantamount to apartheid or something. Demetri might not have been so restrained, he supposed. Garren had always been the better one between them, keeping all this shit from getting too out of hand.
"Might be asking for too much," Demetri shrugged. "To grow up you need to have a life to look forward to after peaking in high school."
Eh, not his best. Nothing too topical to throw back, at least that wouldn't be probably getting a bit too on the nose because of course the easy hanging fruit was there- her body had never hit puberty, so on- but Demetri kind of cringed away from going that hard... He didn't know. It was easier when there was a computer screen between him and the blank face of his target. Here and now Willow just standing there made Demetri feel awkward. He could still feel the tingle from where she'd grabbed onto him for the seven minutes in heaven's worth of a millisecond.
Man he was such a cuck.
"Anyways, Miss DeviantArt joins the party." That girl lingering around at the end of the line- hard to miss if you were Brooke tiers of blind. Cath wasn't someone he knew too well, because she made it her life's business to be unknowable. Not like he would have spoken to her even if she'd been Ming tiers of friendly and approachable, because Demetri certainly appreciated a tastefully punky dye job but Cath made it look more like bubble gum cotton candy had puked over her skull. "Merry little band we got here."
How long 'til one of the girls got offended and said something totally unnecessary because Demetri and Garren had the outright audacity to exist? Demetri was already liking his betting odds.
The queue shuffled forward a bit, Willow took the cheap shot. Lame in the brain, like she couldn't have come up with any better. Demetri swore she was doing it on purpose anyways- she had that try hard serious gravity to her tone that douchebags like Colbert and Fallon regurgitated to try and sound clever.
Demetri nodded, softly. Kinda in the background, but he was definitely still there, having his main man's back. Garren had also avoided the quote-unquote 'slur', called such because the sensitive spoiled types nowadays thought freedom of speech was tantamount to apartheid or something. Demetri might not have been so restrained, he supposed. Garren had always been the better one between them, keeping all this shit from getting too out of hand.
"Might be asking for too much," Demetri shrugged. "To grow up you need to have a life to look forward to after peaking in high school."
Eh, not his best. Nothing too topical to throw back, at least that wouldn't be probably getting a bit too on the nose because of course the easy hanging fruit was there- her body had never hit puberty, so on- but Demetri kind of cringed away from going that hard... He didn't know. It was easier when there was a computer screen between him and the blank face of his target. Here and now Willow just standing there made Demetri feel awkward. He could still feel the tingle from where she'd grabbed onto him for the seven minutes in heaven's worth of a millisecond.
Man he was such a cuck.
"Anyways, Miss DeviantArt joins the party." That girl lingering around at the end of the line- hard to miss if you were Brooke tiers of blind. Cath wasn't someone he knew too well, because she made it her life's business to be unknowable. Not like he would have spoken to her even if she'd been Ming tiers of friendly and approachable, because Demetri certainly appreciated a tastefully punky dye job but Cath made it look more like bubble gum cotton candy had puked over her skull. "Merry little band we got here."
How long 'til one of the girls got offended and said something totally unnecessary because Demetri and Garren had the outright audacity to exist? Demetri was already liking his betting odds.
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Somersault
- Posts: 312
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:56 am
As if her luck wasn't shitty enough, she had to run into what was the goddamn George Hunter equivalent of the KKK when she was shopping for baby formula.
God had it out for her, didn't he?
TONYA COLLINS - PREGAME START
If that wasn't enough to make matters crap, Tonya was sweating balls from badminton practice, her hair done up in another hurried bun, duffel bag hurriedly slung over shoulder as she kept on strolling through Harrison Central. Sure, she was a chunky bish, and she didn't really mind that, but in a tank top, shorts, and looking like she just got the Flashdance bucket dropped on her head? No one really had to see her like this, nah, and if she had been able to get through this shopping trip with minimal stress and worry she would've been thrilled. No, not thrilled, fucking ecstatic, final jeopardy bet everything double-cash winnings ecstatic.
Unfortunately, because the man up there had a fucking hard-on for causing her even more suffering, she had kept on walking, shoes tapping on the floor, when she looked up from her phone, cheap Tiana case and all, and saw them. Them. Like, put everything in a breadbasket and murder it with a blender because it was them, them, the human embodiments of why Twitter was such a cesspool for sad little boys who were never gonna get their balls dropped.
Sadly, with how they all were positioned along with a girl who Tonya sweared she had seen before in class (probably?), she had to go through them to get that formula, to get Patrice to stop crying at night because Lord, those lost sleeping hours were showing up on her face.
It was all up to her to be the big (ew, actually just mature) woman here and not cause a fuss, but when the insults felt so ready to fly out of her mouth, little bolts shooting out like lightning, it was very hard to keep them from bouncing out and making a big-ass mess.
In an effort to be civil, or at least as civil as she could consider herself to be, Tonya continued walking forward, eyes set solely on her phone, looking through another dumb Buzzfeed quiz, but as she approached them, she couldn't help but let out a little sigh and eyeroll, just on reflex. See something, say something, right? So she saw shit, and had to say something about that shit.
Meant they couldn't get to her first, anyways, even if she really wanted to get to the bottom of exactly what condiment she was.
God had it out for her, didn't he?
TONYA COLLINS - PREGAME START
If that wasn't enough to make matters crap, Tonya was sweating balls from badminton practice, her hair done up in another hurried bun, duffel bag hurriedly slung over shoulder as she kept on strolling through Harrison Central. Sure, she was a chunky bish, and she didn't really mind that, but in a tank top, shorts, and looking like she just got the Flashdance bucket dropped on her head? No one really had to see her like this, nah, and if she had been able to get through this shopping trip with minimal stress and worry she would've been thrilled. No, not thrilled, fucking ecstatic, final jeopardy bet everything double-cash winnings ecstatic.
Unfortunately, because the man up there had a fucking hard-on for causing her even more suffering, she had kept on walking, shoes tapping on the floor, when she looked up from her phone, cheap Tiana case and all, and saw them. Them. Like, put everything in a breadbasket and murder it with a blender because it was them, them, the human embodiments of why Twitter was such a cesspool for sad little boys who were never gonna get their balls dropped.
Sadly, with how they all were positioned along with a girl who Tonya sweared she had seen before in class (probably?), she had to go through them to get that formula, to get Patrice to stop crying at night because Lord, those lost sleeping hours were showing up on her face.
It was all up to her to be the big (ew, actually just mature) woman here and not cause a fuss, but when the insults felt so ready to fly out of her mouth, little bolts shooting out like lightning, it was very hard to keep them from bouncing out and making a big-ass mess.
In an effort to be civil, or at least as civil as she could consider herself to be, Tonya continued walking forward, eyes set solely on her phone, looking through another dumb Buzzfeed quiz, but as she approached them, she couldn't help but let out a little sigh and eyeroll, just on reflex. See something, say something, right? So she saw shit, and had to say something about that shit.
Meant they couldn't get to her first, anyways, even if she really wanted to get to the bottom of exactly what condiment she was.
Willow started giggling. They really reacted the way she expected. Her smile withdrawn and she looked at the two losers with pity in her eyes.
“You guys always talk about how much you hate women,” her eyes dragged the two boys, “don’t you think that’s kinda gay? Anyways, I’m sure you’ll do great after high school.” She squinted, then bit him with her words, “The army does need some cannon fodder.”
With that said, she turned toward the eccentrically dressed girl. Willow couldn’t remember her name, and who that was, but she recognized her from around the school. Willow moved over to Tanya. She did know her, however. She was a teen mom. Sometimes, Willow felt bad about wrecking her body, but then she remembered teen moms existed and she was suddenly humbled.
She wasn’t quite sure if it was out of respect or fear that she ignored Tanya. She moved her eyes back to Catherine and she smirked like the Cheshire cat. She nodded her head toward the greasy fuck and the incel who came a bit when she touched him. She spoke loud and clear toward the girl.
“‘Sup. As you can see, we’re having an unannounced shithead meeting, wanna’ join?” She pointed the fast-food store. “I’m getting a salad.”
“You guys always talk about how much you hate women,” her eyes dragged the two boys, “don’t you think that’s kinda gay? Anyways, I’m sure you’ll do great after high school.” She squinted, then bit him with her words, “The army does need some cannon fodder.”
With that said, she turned toward the eccentrically dressed girl. Willow couldn’t remember her name, and who that was, but she recognized her from around the school. Willow moved over to Tanya. She did know her, however. She was a teen mom. Sometimes, Willow felt bad about wrecking her body, but then she remembered teen moms existed and she was suddenly humbled.
She wasn’t quite sure if it was out of respect or fear that she ignored Tanya. She moved her eyes back to Catherine and she smirked like the Cheshire cat. She nodded her head toward the greasy fuck and the incel who came a bit when she touched him. She spoke loud and clear toward the girl.
“‘Sup. As you can see, we’re having an unannounced shithead meeting, wanna’ join?” She pointed the fast-food store. “I’m getting a salad.”