Just a couple of friends talking about who they’re into—I think this is a pretty universal experience In Highschool, no matter what your sexuality is. I remember growing up people would always ask me who I had a crush on and I’d just sort of spin my wheels trying to come up with someone. Did Zoro from One Piece count? Anyways, I have a lot of LGBT friends, and I wrote this as a way to try and imagine what those kind of conversations might look like for someone who’s Gay or Asexual.
By the way, these are two of my OC’s from a story I’m working on. Hopefully I’ll turn it into a published novel one day, but for now it’s still sort of stuck in the concept stage, and I haven’t stated writing the book yet. I’m still feeling things out, so hopefully doing stuff like this helps me flesh out what I want.
The girl’s name is Clover, and the boy is Ivan—Ivan’s the MC of this particular story. (You know, whenever I actually get around to writing it.)
Oh, and here’s a transcript of the dialogue in case it’s confusing. (Hopefully the comic flows well, I’m still figuring out how to make these things.)
Clover: “It’s kinda wierd… but I’ve never really been, like, INTO guys.”
Ivan: “I mean, I’ve never really been into girls. (So it’s not that wierd.)”
Clover: “No, not like that. I mean, I’ve thought about dating before. Holding hands, kissing, all fine. It’s just…”
“I don’t think I want what my brother has. (Yuck.)”
Ivan: “Ah. Right” Guess that makes one of us.
Sorry it’s not the best dialogue. Hopefully it gets the idea across though.
Everyone knew Nancy was the smart one. Nancy was the one you went to with school trouble. She was the one who always had class notes, always had flash cards, always came prepared to answer questions and kill a presentation. She was probably up in the top ranks to get valedictorian by senior year, if Barb were being honest.
Except, Nancy was terrible at observing other people. She never really thought about what was going on inside their heads, never really took the time to analyze their behaviors or expressions, like they didn’t really exist outside of her perception of them.
To her, everything was face value.
Maybe Barb overanalyzed people, or maybe she was paranoid, but if Nancy wasn’t going to look out for herself, Barb would try to do it for her.
Try being the operative word.
There was only so much she could do when Nancy refused to see or listen to anything Barb had to say. To her, Steve was sweet, Steve was nice, Steve wasn’t going to string her along or dump her for some newer, shinier, dumber model.
But she didn’t see the way he looked when someone like Eddie Munson walked by. At first, Barb thought she had to be imagining things, Nancy had to be right and the paranoia was finally catching up, making her see things that weren’t there. But it kept happening.
Any time the fuzzy haired freak wandered by, even as Steve twirled Nancy around and acted like everything was normal, like he was normal, he couldn’t help his eyes as they followed him. They would linger when he thought no one was watching, especially in the lunch room when it was safe because everyone’s eyes were on Eddie.
It wasn’t something she could bring up to anyone else, though.
She knew what it was like to have fingers pointed at you, words spat out with violent judgement, declaring things that could get you chased out of town if they were said near the wrong person. She knew what it was like to be different, to hide away so you didn’t get caught, and she wasn’t even sure if Steve realized he was doing it in the first place. This was the middle of nowhere, Indiana, after all and Steve was the perfect golden boy.
He probably didn’t even know gay people existed, much like the rest of this sheltered town. But that didn’t mean it was okay to lead Nancy on, to twirl her around and sneak off to make out when his eyes still followed Munson, even when his lips were bitten and red.
She couldn’t even fathom how he got away with those wandering eyes in the boys’ locker room. The jocks were quick to throw around slurs and hate speech to anyone who took up more space than an ant, and yet Steve Harrington was free to be as obvious as he was? Just because he was one of them? It was stupid, it was hypocritical, it was bullshit, and somehow nobody but Barb could even see it.
Maybe it took one to know one.
Maybe everyone else in this town was just content to float along in a haze without thinking about other people.
But she wouldn’t just give up and leave Nancy to be crushed all by herself. She couldn’t expose Steve’s secret, she couldn’t tell Nance the real reason she was worried about The Hair stringing her along, but she could be there. She could third wheel or fifth wheel or whatever until Nancy saw the truth; she could protect her. If not from anything else, at least protect her from heartbreak.
So she sucked it up, smiled, and agreed to go to Steve Harrington’s stupid house for some stupid party. Maybe she’d be able to convince Nancy this wasn’t meant to be. Maybe she’d see some sense after tonight. But for now, Barb rolled her eyes, bit her tongue, and walked the three blocks from her parked car to the Harrington's front door.
The immediate aftermath of the battle for Ala Mhigo had been the usual weariness of such clashes. Aymeric was reminded of the final battle against Nidhogg, the relief and joy tempered by the work needed to care for the wounded and tend to the dead, to clear away the rubble of battle to allow passage and respite, proper rebuilding to come in the following months.
But also the impromptu celebrations, that relieved joy welling up until it could no longer be contained despite the losses, the freedom from fear an intoxicating sensation after so long. He smiled as he watched the Ala Mhigans find those feelings now, accompanied by their Eorzean cousins.
What began as military chow time turned into a feast, as locals joined in with what little they had, accepting relief packs from the Alliance even while sharing their stores of illegally hunted game, carefully hidden crops, dishes of surreptitiously collected salt, and of course, bottles of arak. It was a day of thanksgiving, excess could be excused.
A Gridanian Bard lifted a fiddle, joined by comrades across the Companies and a few of the community with a variety of instruments. Soon enough dancing began.
The Scions were spread throughout the crowds, working as tirelessly as ever, but someone pressed meals into Arenvald and the twins' hands, and gave Y'shtola and Urianger drinks. Aymeric heard Krile laugh, some of the strain of her own horrific experience lifting.
It took a moment to find a specific Scion, in emotional conversation with Lyse. Aeryn did not seem weary despite her exertions the day before—there had been a concerted effort to ensure their champion obtained several hours of sleep, and now she seemed alight with excitement as their talk moved from teary eyes to laughter, shoulders relaxing and toes tapping in time with the music.
Aymeric walked through the crowd with intent, but just before he arrived, another figure stepped up to the women. Aeryn's face lit like the sun as Thancred held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked. He seemed far less assured than usual. Almost giddy, in fact, his expression mirroring Aeryn's.
She nodded in answer, and they skipped out to join the others gamboling in the open spaces.
A number of things clicked in Aymeric's mind at once. Of course. He was a tinge disappointed, perhaps, but it was understandable. Yet he couldn't help a smile at his friends' happiness.
"Thank the Twelve," Lyse said. "They may have finally figured themselves out. I was about ready to shove them both in a closet until they talked."
Aymeric laughed. "And 'tis likely you would have had help. Still, we cannot allow them to have all the fun. Commander?"
"Just the one," she said, taking his hand. "I've had a few other offers."
They joined the dancers, victory and freedom fueling their motions, while everyone pretended not to notice how two particular Scions danced liked there was no one else in the world.
I have no fucking clue what The Amazing Digital Circus is and I've never seen or encountered it outside of my Tumblr dash where suddenly it's everywhere. So here's what I think I've learned from an outside perspective based purely on fan content:
-There's a cast of cartoon characters that get more simplified in design the worse their mental health gets
-They used to be humans
-At least two of them had abusive parents
-Some of them want to figure out how to fuck as abstract shapes?
-There's a ringleader who's evil and looks like this 🎭
-It's about art and performance and how it can hollow you out, I think
-There's a purple rabbit boy and a rag doll girl who I think people ship
-It's a YouTube series...? Made by one guy...? Maybe??
-Gets increasingly more weird and distressing as it continues, Don't Hug Me I'm Scared style
-Darkness represented with extreme color and cheer
For oneshot requests, maybe some Jamilton from an outsiders' pov?
sorry this took literal ages!! i was halfway done and i think i accidentally deleted the original, so i had to start over. but even then i was slacking beforehand 😔 also i couldn't come up with a cheesy title im sorry 😭
The volume of a house party was never something that James particularly enjoyed. He was a man of simple pleasures, and he greatly appreciated things like calm silence and alone time. But of course, his wife was not the same as him, and in fact was a social butterfly. James didn't mind it, even if it meant that the couple was more often the hosts of parties rather than guests.
Once upon a time, James would socialize with Thomas, who was single and had an exceptionally small social battery. It would always go about the same—James would sit in his corner and people watch while Thomas made his rounds before joining him. Thomas was always a man that people just had to see. His looks and charm, while oftentimes accidental, pulled people right in. James always listened to people when Thomas walked away, calling him a sweetheart and the like. That part always made him laugh—he knew Thomas to be a huge pain in the ass.
Similarly, James would watch Alexander. He wasn't entirely sure why Dolley still invited him. James had been acquaintances with Hamilton for some time, but that ended when Alex became too focused on everything but his personal life. James was beginning to wonder if Dolley had seen something he hadn't yet, because it turned out well. Thomas and Alexander had been dating for two years, and definitely seemed to be headed down the right path.
Now James watched the two together, after Thomas made his rounds, and made sure to sit with James like he used to. Thomas was a good friend, even if James knew he didn't believe it himself. They'd been through literally everything together, and James couldn't even think of a time where they went more than a few days without speaking. He truly wouldn't mind if Thomas spent time elsewhere, but he appreciated the sentiment.
Whenever James spent actual time observing the two together, he noticed something new. The way Thomas was sure to include Alexander in conversations with people that he might not know, how Alexander leans into Thomas' every (very frequent) touch. James also noticed how, when someone called Thomas a sweetheart after he'd walked away, Alexander would smile to himself as if he won some kind of argument. And when Alexander talked someone's ear off, Thomas would make a point to listen to every single word.
James could only be glad that the two finally got their shit together and realized that they were supposed to be together, in some way or another. Even though he admired their relationship from afar now, he could remember their so-called hatred of one another that started it all.
James met Alexander well before Thomas did. All he could think when they first met was that Hamilton was the single most fiery person he'd ever met. For someone to be so outspoken at all of the wrong times was genuinely entertaining, and James had been certain that Thomas would get a real kick out of it. That, and he assumed the two would butt heads as soon as they spoke to one another. Unfortunately, they were like some phenomenon where opposites could be identical.
Both men were so opinionated, and so firm in their beliefs, but Thomas somehow managed to be strategic while Alexander assumed everyone would follow his logic. James had expected their disagreements, but he had underestimated the extent they'd reach. He listened to Thomas complain about Alexander for months, and sat alongside the rest of the office as the two spatted embarrassingly in front of everyone.
Eventually, James came to the realization that Thomas and Alexander had a simple solution to their issue with one another. All they needed to do was sit down and talk, and they'd realize that they actually had a lot in common. At least, work wise. Thomas had hobbies that James couldn't imagine Alexander ever participating in, but that didn't matter. He and Dolley didn't have completely aligned interests, and he couldn't imagine a life without her in it.
Besides, the strange little ‘rivalry’ between Alexander and Thomas had James wanting to shout, ‘kiss! kiss! kiss!’ like he was watching a hockey game. Not that he watched hockey often, but there was no way those players never thought differently than expected when he had another pinned against the glass. Alexander and Thomas were just about the same, except in an office fighting over paperwork rather than..whatever hockey players fight over.
Then, they had the audacity to start dating in secret. James wasn't sure when they finally got their heads out of their asses, but it became evident to him when their fights didn't include personal insults or anything nearly as demeaning as it usually was. Everyone else thought that the two had finally matured, but James knew better.
James began to notice the little things, too. Thomas would leave the office just before Alexander, and they'd show up right after each other as well. Far enough apart where it very well could have been a coincidence, but close enough to realize they were arriving and leaving together. Thomas was less likely to invite James over at random, and seemed weirdly on edge even when it was just the usual times they spent time together. It all felt very obvious to James.
Despite this, James acted surprised when Thomas and Alexander finally revealed their big secret to everyone. For the sake of his friend, and himself. He did wonder if Thomas knew that James was aware, however. Anyone knew that Thomas had brains to him, but it seemed that the extent of his intelligence was often underestimated. James didn't mind, he got to be called the smart one (which he is, don't get confused).
Now, James is simply blessed to go out on double dates with them. Alexander was around more often than he wasn't, and James didn't mind. Dolley was better at socializing, at least in a “kind” way that James tended to fail with. He couldn't help it if he always came off as sarcastic and dry.
Regardless, he was just glad to see Thomas finally have someone that genuinely seemed to make him happy. James wasn't going to make any assumptions about their relationship, as it was always hard to guess with Thomas, but it seemed that they were the type to make it if they wanted to.
---
i hope this is remotely enjoyable! i'm not used to writing from james' perspective, but i thought he was perfect for the prompt based on my personal portrayal idk
Paula had never been gifted with children. Granted, she had never wanted children - she was happy enough to be the favorite aunt to several nieces and one, potentially disappointing, nephew. She had her regular customers, her staff, and her lovely husband. She didn’t need anything else (she had wanted children, once. When she and Kevin had been together for the better part of ten years. But the time had passed and Paula had given up all hope of having them by the time she was fifty. Her restaurant was her child, in a way. Her family said it was pathetic, a group of drunk graduate psychology students told her she was being practical and a “girl boss” - whatever that meant). She didn’t have children, if anyone asked she would insist that she had never wanted them, but she had never seen a man so in need of parental guidance as Evan Buckley.
The first time Paula had met Evan it had been his first week in Los Angeles with those horrid bleach blonde streaks in his hair that were fading rapidly to a much more pleasant, natural honey. Her first impression had been that he was rather handsome, he came with a bartending license unlike the majority of their applicants, and he was good with the customers. It was also that his roguish smile and boyish charm was going to bring her in a lot of money. Her second thought, when it was his first shift and he had already flirted with half of her clientele, was that he was going to be a lot of trouble.
She had been right. Evan was a handful. He came with three fresh out of school frat boys that had all met on a beach in Peru that racked up an impressive tab that Evan paid with his tips at the end of each week. He partied when it was his days off, he fooled around with anyone with a pulse, Paula had caught him hustling at the pool tables once or twice with little success. He fought anyone that said anything mildly offensive, he was attached to his phone like every other boy his age. But he was also… he had a lot of heart. Paula didn’t know when it had changed, probably somewhere between him arriving and him showing up an hour before his shift with a big Firefighters Manual clutched in his fist and a look of nervous determination, but Evan started staying long after closing to help her and Kevin clean up. He started studying behind the bar in between customers, started rattling off fun facts at anyone that would listen about what he had learned that week at the firefighting academy, matured.
Paula didn’t expect him to have a friend like Eddie Diaz.
Kevin had hired him to fix their oven and dishwasher, the cash register even. He was a good, cheap worker that didn’t mind working odd hours or request they close up shop for the night for him to get what he needed to do done. He was quiet, minded his own business, and, best of all, was efficient. All Evan had to do was bat his eyelashes at Paula and she was hiring him - if Eddie Diaz was anything behind a bar like he was with a toolbox, she wasn’t going to regret hiring him.
He wasn’t any good behind the bar.
“Two ounces, Eddie, not the whole bottle, Christ.” Evan grabbed the shot glass out of his hand before Eddie could upend the entire bottle of vodka. Paula, from the booth she was crunching numbers in, watched almost nervously.
It had been two weeks and Eddie was a diligent worker, absolutely. He brought in just as many customers as Evan had, he worked with a determination that Paula almost envied, but she had only kept him on because he was better than Matt was - which wasn’t saying much of anything in the end. “How the hell am I supposed to know what two ounces is?” Eddie mumbled, his eyebrows pulled down low over his brow.
Paula pursed her lips and watched them through her lashes.
It was in between shifts that had the two of them invading her bar. The restaurant wasn’t technically closed, but the bar portion certainly was at ten in the morning. Evan had come just after his shift at the local fire department, he had shown up with wet curls and his casual LAFD t-shirt stretched over his shoulders. You don’t have to do this, Paula had heard Eddie mutter to him out of the corner of his mouth.
Evan hadn’t bothered answering him with anything other than an eyeroll.
Paula wasn’t blind.
She knew there was something between them. “The glass says it.” Evan pointed at the two ounce in near exasperation.
Paula had never actually seen him so visually frustrated and yet so very obviously entertained. He was tired, she had learned the signs over the past year in the slump of his shoulders and the way he was folded over the counter, but he was invigorated by the banter.
Eddie Diaz only ever really bantered with Evan. “Well.” Eddie’s cheeks reddened and he shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t see that.”
With a quick, skilled twist of his wrist, Evan poured the vodka back into the bottle (Paula was impressed, she half expected him to throw it back like a shot - he would have a year ago. But, then again, a year ago, Evan wouldn’t have been trying to do anything with Eddie Diaz except disappear into the bathroom with him). He placed the glass back onto the counter and tapped his fingers against the line. “Two ounces of vodka.” He repeated in a much kinder tone than he had spoken before.
Eddie followed instruction, stopping just shy of an expert pour and glancing up at Evan with a wide-eyed quest for approval. “Good?” He prompted.
“It’ll be better in the martini glass.” Still, Evan winked and crossed his arms at the counter again, tapping his fingertips along the smooth line of his forearm tattoo. “You want one ounce of Apple Schnapps.” He pointed towards the bottle and, Paula watched, smiled down at the counter when Eddie wasn’t looking.
That wasn’t a smile she was used to.
She fluttered her gaze back to her papers with a frown.
