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"you stopped smoking? since when?" Max was surprised.
"about a month now I reckon." Daniel shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. Like he hadn't been talking about wanting to quit for ages.
"what was the trigger?"
Daniel laughed and shook his head. "you're gonna think its so dumb."
"well its not stupid if it worked." Max pointed out.
Daniel looked at him for a long moment before shrugging again. "i went out for a smoke walk and saw like a ufo in the sky i think--"
"no way-"
"im serious! and like i thought damn what if they like fuckin beam me up right now looking for i dunno human specimens. im not gonna be a good enough body y'know? they need peak humans and all that. so i quit." Daniel knew he was blushing, this was the first time he explained the real reason to someone. Everyone else he'd just told some variation of 'its just time i guess'.
Max laughed but to Daniel it didn't sound unkind. "you're getting healthy for aliens???"
"i told you it was dumb." Daniel shrugged again, popping gum into his mouth.
"have you been going to the gym too?" Max continued as if Daniel didn't say anything.
"nah, but my running has gotten loads better i think."
"i'm jealous of these aliens that will get to keep you." Max mumbled and Daniel did not think about how his tummy swooped at that.
As threatened promised, a comic in time for Axel month, inspired by @translucentchick ‘s comic
I got the ok for artist’s choice with one of the donation Xigbars, as well as use of @dewprisms ’s googly eye idea which I immediately fell in love with, so threw it in with some of the ones stockpiled from my own donations.
Elphaba Thropp enters a local block blast competition with Glinda Upland, both pushed into it due to their alleged 'block blast addiction'. The pair make it into the district, forced to tolerate each other until the finals.
Or
I'm forced to write this because of my block blast addiction
Elphaba can’t believe she’s doing this.
Then again, what could she do? She already said yes, and it wasn’t like there was anything particularly terrible about participating.
Well, there are two blondes she would like to strangle, and one of them wasn’t here yet even though she should be.
It all started a week ago after she let Crope and Tibbett borrow her phone because they were getting bored while in the waiting room for their friend group’s check-up. Nessa had suggested they take them together after she found out that Boq had not been to one since he was eight years old.
So they were in the waiting room, and the couple was dramatically bored. Boq was nervous about his check-up, so Nessa came with him, and in turn, he’d be with her for hers.
So Elphaba had been stuck with the disasters, with her nose buried in a book she had bought on the way. She gave up her phone and opened her Block Blast app. After screaming about the score she never paid attention to, they urged her to sign up for the local Block Blast Competition downtown.
So now she was sitting at one of the tables while staff ran across the room, yelling orders, getting yelled at, bringing tables, organizing the various boxes they were unpacking, and making calls. All because her unfortunately late teammate was stuck in traffic and could cost them the damn district competition.
She could still remember the day she met the insufferable blonde.
. . .
“This is a horrible idea, Crope,” She grumbled as the blonde dragged her along.
“It is not!" He replied adamantly. "Besides, it’ll be fun!”
“Fun because you’re not the one competing,” she huffed,
“It’s for money! We all like money!"
“It’s just a couple of dollars, we don’t even know if I’ll win this,”
He crossed his arms and sighed, “Okay fine, if you lose I’ll pay you a quarter of the prize.”
“You make it sound like it's a favor,” she smirked, "But fine, I'll play."
And Elphaba won.
Just after a blonde girl with pink, rolled her eyes and rested her chin on her hand with a pout, she was ahead by fifteen points.
Now she and that blonde were going to the district, and further.
. . .
Glinda couldn’t believe she was still stuck in traffic!
She had been here and an hour had already passed, she was about to lose it. Oh, Oz, she’d be strangled by Elphie, for sure.
With nothing to do but wait, she could only reminiscence.
“You have to believe me!” She had vaguely heard Shenshen whisper to Pfanne, lost in her phone, she had started playing Block Blast a week ago. It seemed like a fun way to pass the time, and it was. And that was what landed her in this mess in the first place.
“You’ve got to be joking!” Pfanne retorted, Shenshen snatched Glinda’s phone out of her hands.
“Hey! I was playing!” Her complaints fell on deaf ears as Pfanne’s jaw dropped, she took her phone back and kept playing.
“I’m sorry, what is her high score?”
“Nine hundred twenty-three thousand, five hundred forty-two,” Glinda answered absentmindedly. She blinked and turned to them. "That’s my highest score?!”
“See?” Shenshen squealed, “I don’t lie, Pfanne,”
“Sure you don’t,” He scoffed.
Then, a familiar figure approached, carefree as always, he greeted them with a smile and a hug.
“So, what’s this I hear about high scores?” He whistled when he looked at Glinda’s phone and gave her a look.
She huffed and crossed her arms, “I don’t need an intervention.”
He smirked, “I didn’t say anything about that,”
“You were about to,” She narrowed her eyes at him, “You think it’s an addiction,”
“Is it?” He pulled his head back, tilting it to the side.
“This is a skill, Fiyero,” She replied adamantly.
“A useless one at that,” Pfanne remarked, Shenshen giggled.
Glinda threw up her hands in exasperation. “Why is everyone ganging up on me today?”
He shrugged, sliding onto the bench next to her. “Well, what if I tell you there is a use for that ‘useless’ skill of yours?”
“Ooh,” She leaned towards him. “Tell me.”
And now she’s lost to Elphaba Thropp, some green girl who would make for a great model if she just knew how to dress herself. Well, she was second anyway, and they apparently needed two players for the district competition.
. . .
“Place it here,”
“I didn’t ask for your help,”
“Well, you needed it anyhow,”
…
“No, no! You should’ve used the heart method! Oh, Oz!”
“The what method?”
“The heart method!”
“What even is that?”
…
“Elphaba you look horrible in that,”
“I thought we were only criticizing each other’s block blast techniques, not fashion sense.”
“I wouldn’t criticize you if you had any.”
…
“For someone who claims to be smart, you never know when to shut up,”
“You never talk, I’m compensating for you.”
…
“Oh, my favorite block!” Glinda squealed.
Elphaba raised an eyebrow, “You have a favorite block?”
“Don’t you?”
“If I have to choose, the 3×3 block.”
“You just chose the one I hate the most, didn’t you?”
…
“I was literally on 999, 936! I could’ve gotten to a million! But no , a stupid 3×3 just had to show up—”
“What is she talking about?”
“Give her a minute or an hour.”
…
"Roommates." Elphaba deadpanned as they both stopped at the same door.
"Oh my goodness," Glinda gasped, covering her mouth with her hand in surprise, "We are roommates!"
…
"Since we'll be rooming with each other for a while-"
"It will only be a few weeks,"
"Oh hush, I'm trying to be nice," The blonde rolled her eyes, "I hardly know you, and we're going to be working together."
The green girl sighed and finally turned to her, "Fine, what do you want?"
"Tell me a secret!"
…
“You got me a water bottle to drink?” Glinda's eyes widened and she preened. "Your kindness knows no bounds, Miss Elphaba."
“Take it before I lose my patience and give you an impromptu bath."
…
“Oh, Oz, there’s been a miracle!”
“Glinda..”
“You’re not a walking fashion disaster today!”
“Glinda…”
“Thank Oz, maybe there is a god!”
….
"I'm sorry, are you reading?"
Glinda looks up from her book, "Yes, I got it from the library."
"You know what it's called!" She threw her hands up in the air, "Next thing you'll tell me what a thesaurus is!"
"A what?"
…
“Will she be—”
“Please give her a minute, Elphaba needs everything completely perfect in place for her,”
“It’s just a chair—”
“And you’re just an employee. Let the girl adjust her chair,”
…
“Elphie, I need-”
“What did you just call me?”
“Elphie, anyways, do you have a stapler I could borrow?”
“Excuse me, Elphie?”
“I need a stapler!”
…
“Elphie,”
“Yes?”
“Oh, so you respond to it now?”
“What - I-”
“No need for words, Elphie, that is who you are now.”
…
“I heard cupcakes~!”
“Yes, we do indeed have cupcakes, my sweet,”
“My sweet? That’s new,”
“What can I say? You’re the personification of candy,”
“And you’re a sour patch kid packed into a person,”
…
"You're reading,"
"We've been over this, I can read just fine Elphaba-"
"You took my recommendation,"
"Yes I did- why are you on the verge of tears?"
…
“Elphaba,”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“What? No, why?”
“You didn’t call me Elphie,”
“Aw, you’re used to it!”
…
"My sweet,"
"Yes, Elphie?"
Fiyero held up his hand, "Hold up, rewind, what did you two just say?"
…
"I want coffee, Elphie. Let's go get coffee."
"I'm driving, Glinda, and how did you get my number?"
"I have my ways, come to Three Queens, I'm at table two."
…
“To this day, I have not used the heart method,”
“She does not listen to me, I’ve tried teaching her on three separate occasions.”
…
“I hate these 3×3 pieces so much, do you need that much space?!?”
“I could say the same about you," she gestured to the piles of luggage the blonde brought with her.
“That’s not the same. I’m adorable Elphie, I deserve it.”
. . .
Elphaba pulled out her phone and dialed a number she had memorized since the first time she and Glinda went out for coffee.
“Where are you?!” She whispered as the staff members huddled together, no doubt wondering where that infuriating blonde was.
“Running down the street on my heels,”
“Excuse me—?”
“I found a bike, Elphie! Oh yes, can I borrow— here’s a hundred, have a nice day!”
“You—”
“I’m on the way Elphie, I love you, bye!”
Elphaba paused as the girl on the other end of the line hung up. She blinked at her screen, then she muttered, “I love you?”
. . .
Elphaba placed the blocks on her screen, her mind occupied with what the blonde sitting next to her said before hanging up. Glinda had arrived, running on heels for a mile and on a bike for the other two. Thankfully, she arrived thirty minutes before the event started.
Shoot.
Wrong block placement.
She saw Glinda lean over and point to the 2×2, “Here. " Then, she moved the block, clearing part of the board, just enough for the other pieces.
“Thank you,” she muttered. She couldn’t help but smile as the blonde effortlessly cleared her own board, placing block after block without a care in the world.
Maybe she should at least try to enjoy the damn thing instead of having a breakdown over not getting the right blocks.
. . .
"And in third place, Elphaba Thropp and Galinda Upland!”
The blonde shot up from her chair, squealing, wrapping her arms around the older girl’s neck as she laughed. She giggled, burying her face into the crook of her neck as Elphaba took their medals. They put their medals on each other, giggling incessantly as they came down from the stage to the audience, where Crope and Tibett brought party poppers while Pfanne and Shenshen squealed so high they nearly shattered a glass.
…
“We won,” Glinda whispered as they got in Elphaba's car, with the green girl in the driver’s seat and her in the passenger's seat. Glinda wondered how Fiyero was, looking for the car she abandoned in the midst of traffic.
“Yes, we did my sweet.” Elphaba nodded, adjusting the back view mirror.
“We should celebrate!” She squealed, buckling herself and Elphaba up.
“Aren’t we already having dinner with everyone?”
“I meant, just us,” She looked out the window. “You and me, we should celebrate together, Elphie.”
“Oh,” She blinked. “I see,”
“So?”
Elphaba grinned, “Of course, my sweet,”
. . .
It’s been a few months since the first competition. And Glinda met up with a very familiar green girl in a café one quiet afternoon.
“Elphie!” she waved, upon seeing her tucked away, Elphaba walked over, sitting across from her.
“I haven’t seen you since last week,” she smiled. “How are Popsie and Momsicle?”
“Oh, they’re fine, they absolutely adore the names you’ve made up for them,” Sne smiled, leaning forward. “How has my emerald been?”
Elphaba scoffed at the new-found nickname, “Every day there’s a new pet name,” she chuckled, “I’ve been fine. Though I missed you terribly.”
Glinda giggled, a familiar warmth creeping up her neck to her cheeks. “Oh, you’re such a flirt, Miss Elphaba.” she pulled out her phone and smirked.
“Whoever loses pays the bill,” She challenged, the green girl’s grin widened.
“You're on, my sweet.”
This work can be found on Ao3 here
Mentions for those interested in the OG post;
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and my regulars;
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@polyarmy
@moonpheus
@gemasivi
You turned towards your wife at her words, baring a smile only she could get out of you. “Oh, did I now?”, you asked playfully. You were a renowned Dora Milaje in your own right, but personally saving Ramonda had never been something you recalled doing. Not that you wouldn't jump at the chance to if the moment arrived. It just hadn't happened yet. And you were glad to keep it that way.
“You did.” she replied truthfully. Going in to hold her hand, you found her face growing serious, as though she were seeing the memory of this so-called ‘saving’ and it wouldn't leave her mind. You found yourself growing hesitant at your previous answer.
Had there been a moment where you'd saved her from something?
In your mind, she was the one constantly saving you. Stopping you from being hasty in dangerous attacks. Making sure your armour was on correctly, even while knowing you'd never put it on recklessly in the first place. All she did was save you. Or, at the very least, try to save you.
“When did I save you, my love?” you asked, bringing her hand to your lips, and kissing it gently. Her serious expression melted at that, and you could tell that you'd just soothed a craving in her. so, you did it again.
In any other moment, she would have let herself get lost in the physical contact. Let herself forget that anyone but you existed. But she had started a conversation; an important one. And she wanted to finish it.
“It's not a singular unit.”
“So you're saying I've saved you more than once without any recollection of doing it? Was I sleepwalking or something?” you tried to joke. She let out her silk-filled laugh, the smoothest of sounds. One that never lasted quite long enough for your liking. Especially now.
“I'm serious, Y/n.” she tried again. You let the confident act go, wanting to hear what she actually had to say.
“I didn't know where my life was headed before I met you. I mean, I knew I had a nation to lead and protect. But that was my life as queen. I had no idea where regular Ramonda’s life was going.”
You smiled at that. Regular Ramonda. It was strange to hear her say that. As though her regular self was somehow less of something to fawn over. Regular Ramonda was your everything. She was the reason you held your head up so high. She was your first thought in the morning and the sweet song that lulled you to sleep every night. There would be no Queen Ramonda without Regular Ramonda. And that made her so much more special in your eyes.
“But then I met you.” she continued, “And all the missing pieces came to make the life I have now. The life we have now”
You saw the stars in her eyes at that. Stars that had been there since the moment you'd first set your eyes onto the stunning woman. They were perfect. She was perfect.
“That’s got nothing to do with me, Ramonda.” You started.
“But it does, sthandwa sam. It all does.” She moved closer, the stars becoming even more clear to you.
“You saved me before anyone knew I needed saving. You held me up before even I knew that I was on the verge of falling. Your existence has lifted years of burden off of my shoulders and replaced them with enough good memories to last a lifetime.”
You hugged her at that point, holding her up once more.
“I'll never be able to thank you enough for that, Y/n.”
“You wouldn't ever have to. Some gifts are happy coincidences given to deserving people. And Ramonda, my darling, I've never met anyone as deserving.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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A blind stranger saves Vriska's life on a snowy winter night, then won't leave her alone. She claims to be her guardian angel; whether she's lying or not, her dedication to the bit has Vriska strangely convinced.
Ka-ching!
Vriska finds that her debit swipes into the self checkout reader just as easily without money as it does with. Her phone vibrates immediately with a notification from her bank, but she does not wait for a receipt to print. She grabs her bag and begins to powerwalk to the front door, past the greeter, and into the frosty winter air outside. She hears a voice shout behind her, and is tackled hard onto the ground.
Vriska’s glasses bounce onto the pavement and crack. A car rushing by throws up black slush over her face and hair, and the melt seeps into her clothes. Fallen snowflakes, heavy and wet, immediately begin piling on top of her body. The stench of car exhaust is overpowered by the aroma of blood as it begins to well in her mouth from somewhere; she's both too sore and too disoriented to identify where.
Seconds, maybe even minutes pass by, before Vriska has wrapped her hand back around the handle of her bag, dragged her glasses closer, and rotated to sit up. She looks at the fallen body of the person who tackled her–not an employee, or at least, not in uniform. Perhaps she's one of their undercover theft prevention crew. Her black hair is cut short, the ends curly and frayed. The falling snowflakes are caught up in it like a nest. She starts pushing herself up, and her blank eyes sear into Vriska in a way that makes her incredibly uncomfortable.
“What the fuck is your problem!" Vriska shrieks when she finally finds her voice. She drags herself to her feet, and starts trying to wipe dirty snow off of her clothes.
"Watch where you're going next time you ignoramus. That car would have hit you,” the blind girl replies.
"As if you could tell,” Vrisks retorts, waving her hand angrily and excessively in front of the girl’s eyes.
"You'd be surprised to know what I can see, actually.” She pauses, then adds on a "jackass” before collecting her cane and rising to her feet.
Vriska catches a glimpse of one of the store employees through the glass door with a phone to their ear, and decides to bite back her next retort. She spits the blood in her mouth out onto the ground, turns around, and begins fleeing the scene once again.
She makes it a good couple blocks down to the bus stop before she finally stops. Beneath the snow-covered awning, Vriska takes a minute to sit down on the dry bench and give herself a once over. She bit the shit out of her tongue, scraped her knees, ripped her pants, but in all was mostly unharmed. Of course, anything is going to make her sour mood worse.
The girl from earlier sits down beside her, staring silently at the road. Vriska leans back and stares forward too, wearing a scowl.
“Assault and stalking?” Vriska says.
"Yeah, I'm considering rounding it out with homicide,” she grins in response.
"Couldn't let the car kill me? You gotta do it yourself?”
"Maybe you wouldn't have died, and instead been maimed so badly I'd feel guilty for killing you.”
"Damn, you should have let that happen. Someone's gotta pay my bills,” Vriska chuckles, and folds her hands on her lap.
"That's why I'm not interested in your death,” the blind girl starts. "You are so pathetic, you're worthless.”
"Who the fuck are you to judge me, anyway?”
"Terezi Pyrope. Judger of souls, weigher of sins, the scales of justice.” Terezi tilts her gaze up to the spider webs in the rafters of the bus stop roof.
"Yeah, me too. I do all of that, too; why are you so special?”
Terezi slides a small business card out of her pocket and into Vriska’s hand. It's pearly white and slightly iridescent, with teal gel pen handwriting that is absolutely illegible.
"So you're a kindergarten teacher, and this is your worst student’s work.”
"No, that's my fucking business card you insolent cunt. Must every sentence out of your mouth be an insult? Because you are not making a strong case for yourself!” Terezi replies.
"We're not in court. We're sitting at a bus stop,” Vriska starts. She turns to look directly at Terezi’s face; her features are soft and round, plump even. A few stray hairs are scattered around her jawline and upper lip, thick and curled. "There's a small wooden roof above us with slate tiles coated in piling snow. There's a decade’s worth of spiderwebs strung along the rafters, black with dust. In front of us the sidewalk is crumbling from overuse without maintenance, and the road is white from an undisturbed layer of snow. We're sitting on an iron bench, a dark rusty gray, with the stop number engraved on the back.”
Terezi sits in the silence of it all, even as Vriska stops speaking. They hear cars driving on the main road in the distance, and the tiny crunch of a squirrel digging under the snow for nuts. Vriska drops her gaze down to her hands, where she can see her skin through the threads of the fingertips.
"So that car killed me, huh,” Vriska says. "And you're St. Peter judging whether I get into heaven.”
"One of those statements is false,” Terezi responds.
"God I hope it's the first one, then,” Vrisks says without missing a beat. She straightens her posture a bit. "But I have no fucking clue why you'd be judging me now if that were the case. So I'm dead, and what are you, my personalized devil?”
“No, you had it. I actually did save your life, you're fucking welcome," Terezi says.
“Then what are you doing here? This seems a little more guardian angely and a little less judged by gody."
“Eh, that's as much information as I'm going to divulge,” Terezi says with a smug grin, folds her hands behind her head, and leans back. "Wanna explain to me why you were shoplifting?”
"I owe you as much explanation as I owe that greedy corporate shitbag money. Which is to say, none!”
"Which is to say, like, 42 dollars worth. What did you even take?” Terezi asks.
"Come on, angel. Divine it. You could see a car coming but not what's inside my bag?” Vriska retorts.
“I could sense that your life was in imminent danger. I cannot sense your purchasing habits," she responds.
“It's just, some stuff. Y'know, essentials. Shit you can't live without, like food and toilet paper," Vriska mutters.
“I can live without food and toilet paper," Terezi points out smugly.
“Jackass, a normal person couldn't live without."
“And the only thing inside your bag is $42 worth of ramen noodles and toilet paper?"
Vriska frowns, but her silence is all too telling. Terezi reaches over without warning, shoves her hand into the shopping bag, and starts to rummage around. Vriska immediately wrenches it away and grabs her wrist, but the expression on her face is unchanged.
"It's a cute dress, and it doesn't count toward our discussion if I didn't even scan it to begin with,” Vriska finally relents.
"No no, it counts. It is definitely still stealing.”
"Whatever. I don't give a shit about God’s judgement of my mistreatment of the corporate whatever I don't even know why I'm humoring all of this bullshit it's obviously bullshit.” Vriska’s rambling quiets down to a disconcerted mumbling. She stands up, bag looped around her arm, and leans on the far wall of the bus stop enclosure. Her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, she looks down at her phone to check the time.
"Where is this fucking bus?” Vriska curses.
"Does this bus stop even get used during weather? If the roads are covered in snow like you said… What time even is it?"
“8:42," Vriska responds. She immediately catches herself and frowns harder.
“And when does the route schedule say the next pickup for this stop is?" Terezi prompts.
Vriska glances at the back wall. She was late for the 8:30 pickup because someone threw her on the wet ground, so the next one isn't until 9.
“Assuming it's not delayed by the snowfall," Terezi adds after Vriska’s silence. “Definitely not healthy for you to be out in the cold for that long."
“Oh yeah? Did God give you money for a taxi, blind girl?" Vriska snaps.
“How far away do you live? You're probably faster on foot," Terezi says. Her expression does not hold any warmth, and her tone is transactional.
"Hm, I actually think I broke my ankle being nearly hit by a car earlier,” Vriska replies sarcastically. "I am not spending the next hour walking in a foot of snow, especially not in wet jeans and a flannel,” she adds much more seriously.
"Then maybe consider walking to an open business with a bus stop outside,” Terezi offers.
“Can't, stole from ‘em," Vriska states. She sits back down on the bench and crosses her arms. “Just gotta wait."
Without permission, Terezi puts her arm around Vriska’s shoulders, coat unzipped so it wraps around her too. She drapes her legs over Vriska’s lap and leans in close, until the soft hair pushed up from her forehead tickles Vriska’s jaw. Serket opens her mouth to argue, tenses her muscles to fight, but finds herself melting into the embrace involuntarily and decides to shut her yap.
She leans in, snaking her arms around Terezi’s waist and letting her frosty cheek press into her hair. Vriska sits like this in silence for several minutes, until the quivering in her body finally calms down and she can feel the tip of her nose tickled by Pyrope’s hair.
“What are you?" she asks.
"A lesbian,” Terezi responds.
"Not what I meant,” Vriska growls.
“I failed at my job. I've been cast out and given a significantly shitter, more difficult job to redeem myself. I am supposed to be the scales of justice; I slipped up and let an single emotion affect one decision, and I've been banished. To return to my proper place, I must act as guardian angel to a selected person who is shitty, rude, and bad. Someone who is on course to go straight to hell with no chance at redemption… and I am supposed to silently guide them to the path of light, so that they may pass their trial when it is their turn on the stand."
“You better have proof you're a fucking angel, or you just called me the shittiest bitch alive for no fucking reason," Vrisks says firmly.
“What could I do to prove it to you?" Terezi asks calmly.
“I dunno, show me your wings or your halo? Use an angel beam? Fly? Give me a direct line to speak with God?"
“I can't do any of that right now,” Terezi responds.
"What can you do?” Vriska demands.
"I can smell the color of the blood beneath your skin,” she offers. "I can hear the exact moment that you will die,” she adds.
"When do I die?”
"At 3:03AM, you fall asleep on this bench and freeze to death before the sun rises.”
Vriska shivers, and Terezi squeezes tighter.
"Do you see how to avoid this from happening?”
"No,” Terezi states. "I don't see anything. But it stands to reason, you need to get inside.”
"And you think I'll live through an hour hike in the piling snow?” Vriska asks incredulously.
"You're going to call a taxi,” Terezi responds. "You stole from the store, I know you can just not pay for the ride.”
"I thought you were supposed to be my moral compass now to make me a good person,” Vriska teases, pulling out her phone. At least with the fingertips of her knit gloves being threadbare, she doesn't need to remove them to utilize her touch screen.
"There is no moral high ground to dying cold and alone on a public bench,” Terezi says.
"I agree. My life is more valuable than money,” Vriska nods.
The pair fall into an awkward silence after Vriska gets off the phone with the local taxi service. Terezi peels herself away eventually, and the two sit side by side in silence while they await their ride. Vriska contemplates whether she believes this lunatic story this lesbian is throwing at her; she doesn't, but she sure was quick to believe Terezi at the mental image of herself curled up and lifeless. She certainly doesn't look angelic; she looks like a mess. For all Vriska knows, Terezi could literally be someone having some crazy delusion right now, and she's just feeding into it.
Yet, Vriska doesn't stop her from getting into the taxi cab. She lets her knee lean onto hers as they sit side by side in the back seat. And when the driver drops them off down the street from Vriska’s apartment, she gently tugs Terezi’s arm to lead her in the right direction.
Vriska looks down to see a single set of tracks left in the snow, and the grip on Terezi’s arm tightens. She drags her up the flight of salted steps to her door and unlocks it, letting this stranger into her home.
Vriska’s one bedroom apartment is clutter. She's the kind of person who has stuff and likes stuff, and is not living in a space that has room for stuff. Her dining room table is covered in a mishmash of DIY projects and unfolded laundry and dirty dishes. Her couch has one cleared seat. Her computer desk looks surprisingly tidy, until one glances at the shelves beneath and around it. Vriska immediately steps into her bedroom to crank up her space heater and to fish out a set of dry clothes to change into.
Terezi seats herself on the couch, waiting patiently until Vriska finally steps out wearing a set of flannel pajamas.
“Um, you eat?" she asks awkwardly.
“I can eat your food for pleasure, but not for sustenance."
Vriska stares back at Terezi, and then decides to prepare her ramen for herself and not to share, since the option presented itself. She rests two mugs on the coffee table and sits down on a pile of t-shirts. Vriska holds her ramen cup close to her face and piles noodles into her mouth ravenously with a fork.
“Mug of hot chocolate for you," she says between bites.
Terezi leans forward and reaches out, feeling around the coffee table until she locates a mug. She inhales deeply before taking a sip, then sets it back down. She clicks her tongue, then reaches for it again–this time taking the other mug–and proceeds to chug it. Vriska rolls her eyes, unsure of what she expected putting her own drink in front a blind woman.
Vriska sets down her empty noodle container and uses her clean sleeve to wipe her face off. She debates drinking after Terezi, before deciding it's not weird or even remotely intimate to put her mouth over a non-person’s lipstick stains. She proceeds to leave the dishes on the table and leans back, scooting them to the side with her feet as she props them up.
"You would benefit from using some of that bitching energy towards cleaning your apartment," Terezi says, breaking the silence.
“I'll clean it whenever I have a hot date," Vriska shrugs. “A hot date who doesn't have a bigger or cleaner apartment already, that is."
“Oh, am I not hot enough for you?" Terezi teases. She rotates, leaning most of her weight into one hip so she can be facing Vriska more directly.
“This definitely isn't a date," Vriska says firmly.
“But you do find me hot!"
“Have you seen the men I've let touch me?" Vriska retorts. She bites her lip the instant she realizes she's only owning herself.
“Thankfully I've never seen a man, and I never will."
“God I wish that were me. I wish I could be a carefree lesbian like you," Vriska sighs.
“I would not describe myself as carefree. In fact, given my current predicament, I am experiencing a constant general anxiety, intensified every second I spend not coaching you into a saint," Terezi says. “Wait, why can't you be a lesbian?"
“It's…not allowed?" A weak argument. “Because I have to be attracted to men?" A little better.
“ Are you attracted to men?" Terezi asks plainly.
“Sure. I've dated and slept with, like, several."
“What do you like about boys, Vriska?"
“They're men. They always want to have sex, except for the sometimes when I want to have sex. They have hair in places, that's hot. Uhhhhhhhh…"
“What do you like about women, Vriska?"
“They’re so pretty, and have much more interesting hobbies. I dated a guy who studied military history, but I knew a girl who went into abandoned buildings and old temples for fun. Also, girls are so much more relatable like, emotionally and stuff."
“So why can't you be a lesbian?" Terezi asks.
“I can't. Like I said, not allowed," Vriska says as the joy seeps from her face.
“Why aren't you allowed?" Terezi asks again.
“Well, cuz… I'm not… Do you know what transgender is?” Vriska mumbles.
"Yes, I know what transgender is. So you're a man?” Terezi asks. Her expression doesn't denote any malice, else Vriska would have ended the conversation right there.
"No. I'm a girl, I'm a trans girl. I can't be a lesbian because I'm trans, I have to like men to… be a girl.” The growing quiet in Vriska’s voice is evidence that she too realizes how stupid she sounds.
"So you're a trans girl lesbian,” Terezi states plainly. "You're welcome.”
Vriska doesn't offer a thanks, or even a response. She stands up slowly and begins collecting the dishes around her living room, mulling over the realization in silence. Fighting between keeping her emotions in check and letting a little joy seep through to her core. When she dumps everything into the sink, she's decided she deserves a little joy after all.
"I'm going to bed," Vriska says in passing as she goes to her bedroom. Terezi turns her head to follow Vriska’s footsteps, but doesn't rise from the couch immediately.
Vriska slides into bed in the dark, curling up with her privacy and folding her hands beneath her head. Her thoughts chain, one after the other, until they're racing through her head. She's a lesbian. She's a girl. Her past, and her journey. The growing noise in her mind suddenly stills into silence, and she looks at Terezi standing at the foot of her bed.
“Excuse me," Vriska says, yawning.
“An eternal being does not waste time on sleep," Terezi states knowingly.
“But you can't creep at the foot of my bed and stare at me," Vriska says.
“It is in my–and by extension, YOUR–best interest that I keep a watchful eye over you at all times."
“So lay down in bed with me," Vriska offers. "Freak.”
"Look at your filthy apartment and call me the freak,” Terezi chuckles. She does ultimately decide to lay down in bed, tucking herself underneath the same blanket Vriska is using.
"Sorry, what happened to blind justice? You can't see shit!”
"Well I'm blindly judging you. This place reeks. Don't you know you're supposed to tidy up before bringing cute girls over?” Terezi says.
"And I will tidy up before I invite over a cute girl,” Vriska retorts.
"So what am I? Think hard before calling me ugly.”
"You're an angel,” Vriska states. She rolls over, now facing Terezi; her knees touch her thighs, and her hand rests onto her shoulder. "Not the same category.”
"Angel is not it's own gender,” Terezi starts, but seemingly changes her mind. "You're sleeping with me.”
“Sure, I'll sleep with an angel. I didn't invite you over, though. It doesn't count if you're literally haunting me."
“I wouldn't call it haunting! I'm protecting you from all that would wish you harm, including yourself," Terezi says.
“Oh, so you're mommying me," Vriska teases.
"Don't,” Terezi starts. "Don't you fucking dare. I do NOT trust you to call me Mommy in a way that God would appreciate.”
"Awwwwwwww, mommy! Does it bother you when I say that?” Vriska giggles. She leans her lips against Terezi’s ear and whispers. "Do you like being called mommy?”
"Nope, definitely not,” Terezi shivers. She doesn't move away.
“What if I called you daddy?" Vriska whispers, but this time Terezi resorts to violence and brings her hand down across Serket’s cheek. Vriska flinches, but breaks out into laughter immediately after.
“That's the end of this little game. Go to sleep. You have work in the morning." Terezi’s statements are brisk and stiff.
“Aw, how do you know that? Smelling my death, am I martyred by a customer or something?"
“No, that one was logic; you have to get money from somewhere,” Terezi responds.
"Whatever. Yeah, I'm going to sleep. Night, or whatever,” Vriska mumbles awkwardly.
"Good night, Vriska,” Terezi says. She turns her face over and places a warm little kiss onto Vriska’s forehead.
Vriska does not reciprocate the gesture, but she does close her eyes and melt into the feeling. It spreads through her body like flowing blood, leaving her warm and maybe just a little lighter.
