Whumpril Day Nine & Thirteen pt 2: Stranded & Head Injury
Ahh! First update of 2026! I am determined to finish this prompt list from April....I SWEAR
Read on AO3-> Here
Days Nine & Thirteen Pt 2: Raph and Casey make it to Donnie and it soon becomes apparent that the hit to his head left him with more then just a bruise.
Shit
Shit
Shit
Donnie raced out of the lair, throwing his favorite purple hoodie over his head. He cursed at himself for getting too sucked into the doom scroll; he should have left twenty minutes ago. Raph was gonna be so pissed if he had to wait around for him. To make matters worse, it was supposed to start snowing any minute now. The forecast said they were supposed to get at least five inches and knowing Raph he hadn’t packed a jacket. Begrudgingly, Donnie ran back inside to quickly grab a jacket for Raph then headed back out down the hall toward the manhole cover.
“Bye, Dad!” Donnie shot up a hand to wave to Splinter, who was sitting in his favorite chair, drinking some tea as he read an old Japanese novel. “Be back in like an hour!”
“Be safe,” Splinter looked up from his book, “Love you.”
“Love you too!” Donnie called, not bothering to look back as he ran down the long corridor.
Up on the surface, Donnie was immediately greeted by the bitter cold but luckily no snow yet. He pulled up his hood and tightened the straps then unlocked the car, which he had left parked in a free parking zone.
Donnie took a seat in the driver’s seat then adjusted his mirrors before pulling out into the hell that was New York City traffic. The snow didn’t start for another ten minutes. At first it wasn’t that bad but then the roads started getting slippery. He didn’t notice it at first. Traffic was bumper to bumper in the city. He was lucky to move more than 20ft at a time, but once he made it out of the city and onto the more rural roads the ice became more of a hazard.
Donnie flicked his head backwards to force his glasses back up his snout, keeping both of his hands tightly gripped on the wheel in front of him. It was snowing harder and he could already feel the wheels favoring to the right as the fresh snow turned icy.
Donnie let out an anxious breath.
He was a good driver.
It was just a little snow. The roads weren’t even all that busy. He just needed to stay focused. Donnie leaned forward in his seat and readjusted his sweaty grip on the wheel. He’d beaten his brothers at DK Summit in Mario Kart at least a hundred times.
This was just like that.
Besides the lack of Wii remote, brothers shouting at him to stop throwing red shells, and the whole risk of real danger. In that moment he wanted more than anything to be back in his bedroom with his brothers playing an intense, but completely safe, game of Mario Kart.
He wanted to bicker with his brothers over which tracks to choose and in what order. He wanted to annoy Leo by putting his feet up on their dresser and fight with Mikey over who got to play as Funky Kong because Raph and Leo as the older siblings had dibs on Mario and Luigi, clearly Funky Kong was the next coolest option besides maybe King Boo. Ultimately Mikey would always win the petty squabble, when either he pulled out his stupid little puppy eyes or Leo threatened to tell dad.
Donnie relaxed once the snow began to slow down. Suddenly, he felt stupid for even being so anxious in the first place. The snow hadn’t even been that bad. The driver’s ed class that Splinter had made him take before he got his licence had clearly been exaggerating just how difficult it was to drive in the snow.
“Left turn onto Washington Ave,” came the shrill high-pitched voice of the Google Maps GPS. “You are on the fastest available route.”
Donnie glanced over at the clock on his dashboard, he was supposed to pick up Raph fifteen minutes ago and according to the GPS he was still about ten minutes away. He could already hear him complaining about having to wait around.
Raph wasn’t exactly known for his patience.
“There is a faster route available.”
“Yes, puh-lease,” Donnie muttered crisply as he tapped on the screen of his phone, not bothering to even glance at the new directions. It didn’t matter. It cut off a whole three minutes.
The GPS brought him down a particularly windy back road. Which wouldn’t have been such a big deal if the road had at least been somewhat prepared for the snow. At least the main roads had been salted.
Just as he was about to turn back onto the main road, he felt the wheel slip from beneath him and before he could regain control he had slid his way through the guard rail and into a tree. He screeched out a loud embarrassing noise just as his body lurched forward and his face slammed into the steering wheel causing the car to let out a loud honk.
“Holy shit!’
Donnie shot upwards, looking around frantically at his surroundings to try to piece together what just had happened. He knew he’d crashed the car. That was hard to forget but what happened immediately after that he couldn’t quite recall.
His head was killing him and there was blood covering the steering wheel. He had a quick moment of panic that he had cracked his head open until his hand brushed his snout.
Just a bloody nose.
Okay
Cool.
Donnie let out a deep breath as he tried to center his thinking. It wouldn’t help anything if he started panicking. He just needed to stay calm. He grabbed some Chipotle napkins out of the glove compartment, wiped his eyes then held them to his nose to stop the bleeding.
Once the bleeding was under control, he unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of the car. He was immediately met with an overwhelming feeling of nausea and dizziness. For a moment he was sure he was about to pass out but after a few nauseated minutes of vertigo, he managed tos steady himself enough to pull his phone out and press Raph’s contact.
It had taken them no more than ten minutes to get to Donnie’s location, thanks to a ride on Casey’s bike, a red and black CB500X that had clearly been customized with all kinds of upgrades that Raph wished he understood how to do himself.
Donnie was easy to spot. The crash had happened off the side of an empty suburban back road. Donnie was standing outside the car with the hood popped open. The side of the bumper had been crushed and one of the headlights completely shattered but all things considered it didn’t seem to be too bad.
“Oh, my God, Raph!” Donnie turned around, quickly jogging over to Raph and Casey. “You won’t belie–”
“Holy shit,” Raph gasped.
Donnie’s face was an absolute wreck. Any hope of hiding this from Splinter immediately diminished. There was a mass of blue, purple, and yellow spreading across the majority of Donnie's forehead then down to his snout. His glasses were slightly bent, sitting on his nose crooked but luckily they seemed to have protected his eyes from any damage.
“OW–ow,” Donnie winced as Raph grabbed his face in both his hands, leaning in close to get a better look at the extent of his injuries. There was a small cut near the top of his forehead and the right side of his face was caked in what must have been dried blood. Raph wanted to gag. “Raph, what are you–”
“You call this just a bruise?!” Raph barked.
“I said it was a bad bruise.”
“Dude, you literally have dried blood all over the side of your face!”
“I had a bloody nose!”
“You know it’s totally your fault if Dad never lets any of us leave the lair ever again!” Raph felt guilty for saying it before he even finished getting the words out. The hurt look on Donnie’s face that followed did little to quell the feeling.
“Is that seriously what you’re most worried about right now!?”
“Holy shit, ENOUGH!” Casey’s voice boomed. Both brothers turned to stare at the older teen, both their voices quickly going quiet. “You two arguing isn’t helping shit!”
Donnie failed to hide the way he winced at Casey’s voice, a hand immediately going to his temples. Casey grabbed Donnie by the arm with a surprising amount of care and led him to the side of the road. “We need to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” He motioned with his head for Donnie to sit on the guard rail. He stumbled a bit but managed to regain his footing and lower himself onto the cold silver metal. “You thrown up or anything? Dizzy? Remember what day it is?”
Donnie stared back at him and blinked, a slight vacant look in his eyes that made Raph’s heart race because Donnie wasn’t supposed to be staring like that. None of this was supposed to be happening. Raph tried to secretly let out an anxious breath then wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his pants. He couldn’t help but feel it was his fault.
Donnie wouldn’t have been out picking him up if he hadn’t been on the Hockey team in the first place. Hell, he should have just sucked it up and taken after school Driver’s Ed so Splinter would let him get his own licence.
Donnie shook his head, “No throwing up,” he muttered, “Just kinda dizzy,” he admitted in a soft voice that Raph rarely heard from him. “It’s Wednesday.”
Casey nodded, “Cool. Just gotta check your VOMS.”
Raph just watched a look of total bewilderment as Casey held up his finger and had Donnie follow it, occasionally breaking the silence with questions about nausea, dizziness, and overall fogginess on a scale of 1 to 10.
Raph felt useless as he watched Casey work. “H-how,” he stammered, “How do you know how to do all this?”
Casey turned to look at Raph over his shoulder, “C’mon, man. I’m captain of the hockey team. You think this is the first concussion I’ve seen?” He turned back to Donnie then instructed him to stand up and twist at the waist with one arm held out as he played a slow metronome off his phone. Donnie managed it, only wincing when he hit a particularly sore part of his body.
“Look, I’m no doctor,” Casey said in a crisp tone, “But you may have a minor concussion.”
“Fantastic,” Donnie muttered sarcastically.
“So what’s that mean?” Raph asked. “He’s gonna be fine, right?”
“Yeah,” Casey nodded. “But you should probably go to the doctor or maybe urgent care.”
“Nope,” Donnie cut in, “Not happening.”
“The school’s not gonna let you skip tests without a doctor’s note.”
“I’ll just tell my dad I’m sick or I dunno I’ll think of something,” Donnie said flippantly. “You said it’s minor anyway. I don’t need to go to the doctor.”
Casey glanced over at Raph as if to ask him to do something.
Raph let out a breath then took a seat beside Donnie so they were eye-level. “Why are you making such a big deal out of going to the doctor? You’ve never seemed to mind before?I’m actually pretty sure it was you who was hounding us all to get out flu shots earlier this year.”
“Well, first of all I’m pretty sure we still don’t have health insurance and second, if I go to the doctor there’s no way we’re hiding all,” he motioned to himself then to the car, “this from Dad and-” His voice got quiet and he stared off down the road, a frustrated pensive look passing over his face. “You're right.” He turned back to look at Raph, “If dad finds out about this he’s gonna flip. He won't just take away the car. He’ll probably never let us out of the lair and–” Donnie’s voice caught in his throat, “It’ll be my fault.”
“Donnie,” Raph drew out. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”
“You wouldn't have said it if you didn’t mean it.”
“I was being stupid,” Raph snapped, voice wavering slightly. “Seeing you all,” he motioned to Donnie’s bruised face, “messed up like this is honestly kind of terrifying.”
A small smile made it to Donnie’s face, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Raph moved to flick Donnie on the forehead but stopped himself. “Just let us take you to urgent care.”
Donnie looked back at the car and then back at Raph. “Dad’s gonna be pissed.”
“And he’ll be even more pissed if you lose brain cells or something from not getting treated!”
“Okay, fair. But what do we do about the car?”
“I can probably help you there,” Casey said as he walked back over to the brothers. “The damage really isn’t that bad. I could probably fix it up in my Dad’s shop.”
Raph jumped up, grabbing Casey by the shoulders and shaking him a bit too vigorously, “Wait, for real?”
Casey nodded nonchalantly, “Yeah. Pretty easy fix if I’m being honest.”
Donnie narrowed his eyes, expecting there to be a catch. “How much you want for it?”
Casey shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, shivering slightly. “Ehh, don’t worry about it. We’re friends. You can pay me back eventually.”
“Dude, seriously?” Raph gaped.
“Uh, yeah,” Casey repeated. “It’s cool.”
“Donnie.” Raph ran back over to his brother and grabbed him by the shoulders. “I punched you in the face today, right?”
Donnie blinked, “What?”
“We were fooling around sparing,” Raph said, “And then I punched you in the face, accidentally and now we’ve gotta go to urgent care. You didn’t crash the car.
Donnie stared back at him with a vacant expression in his eyes. He blinked again before a look over understanding overcame him. “Ohhh, riiiight,” he nodded. Then brought up a fist and punched Raph square in the jaw.
“The hell was that for?”
“Now the story’s believable.” Raph glared back at him, holding one hand to his jaw. “What?” Donnie said innocently. “Dad’s been training us in ninjutsu since we were like two. There’s no way in this hypothetical sparring match that I didn’t at least land one hit on you.”
Raph rolled his eyes with no real malice, “Okay-okay, whatever.” He grabbed Donnie’s pinky in his, “You have to promise me, Donatello. This goes to the grave. We can never tell Leo or Mikey or Dad or anyone.”
“Are you,” Donnie paused, “Are you making me pinky promise?”
Raph’s expression remained unchanged, “Yeah.”
Donnie curled his pinky inwards, “To the grave,” he nodded. “Now can we actually go to urgent care? My head is seriously killing me!”
or; supply closet makeouts, ft. gratuitous references to Taylor Swift’s “fearless”
Jake didn’t think it would be Bob. He didn’t think it would be Bob, period, but he certainly didn’t think it would be Bob over the cliff first—leaping the ledge, eyes wide open, fearless.
But it is Bob. It’s Bob coming up out of a firestorm, on his wing, always, with that permanently inquisitive brow hidden behind wide glass lenses. Even now, it’s Bob pressing Jake into the careful dark of a supply closet corner, slowly taking Jake apart in ways he didn’t even know he could be broken.
And the thing is, Jake has been starving for weeks. But now he realizes maybe Bob has been hungry for longer. Because those are Bob’s hands in his hair, pulling gently at the roots, fingers carding through. That’s Bob’s jaw beneath Jake’s fingertips, and his shaking breath against Jake’s lips, and those are his teeth, grazing skin.
Jake can’t get enough. He doesn’t know how he went this long without it. And still...
“We can’t," he murmurs, and Bob growls, a low rumble breaking the quiet.
“We already are,” he insists, but he pulls back a couple inches just the same, carefully removing himself at the first sign of Jake’s distress.
“No, no,” Jake soothes. He reaches across the sudden distance placed between them. He runs his thumb over Bob’s bottom lip, pulls lightly at the slight dip of his chin. “We can’t be late for drinks. Phoenix will never let us hear the end of it. But until then…” He tugs Bob gently closer. “We have time,” he breathes against Bob’s mouth, and feels the hands at his waist seeking purchase, clenching in the fabric of his uniform.
“We have time,” Bob echoes, and Jake is nodding, backing himself into the corner, letting Bob take the lead.
We have time, he thinks, and then he’s right back to falling.
i, uh, found this in my drafts ? forgot that i wrote it haha. but i kinda like it so i decided to post it here :) enjoy
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Will and Mike are sitting across from each other on Mike's bed, Mike's fingers tapping absently on Will's knee, mouth twisted into a lazy pout, staring into space.
Will's lips form a fond smile, and he props his chin in his hand, taking a moment to really look at Mike. He does that a lot, if he's being honest, and he takes comfort in the fact that he can admire Mike openly, that he doesn't have to hide it anymore.
His coarse, dark hair that Will finds himself constantly wanting to gently card his hand through. The freckles scattered almost artfully across his face form an irresistible constellation. Will wants to trace it with his fingers. Every so often, Mike will doze off, only for his eyes to pop open a few moments later, tired blinking, wash, rinse, repeat. It was honestly kind of entertaining.
Will's eyes inevitably move a little lower, and he feels the tips of his ears heat up.
Um. Yep. Those sure are lips, alright. On Mike's, uh, face.
Okay.
So maybe Will is currently fantasizing about pinning Mike against his bedroom wall and just– fucking– kissing him.
Maybe.
“Will.”
Will's eyes snap up to Mike's, and he hopes his face isn't as red as it feels.
Mike lifts a lazy eyebrow, the corner of his lips pulled up in a knowing grin. His voice is thick with sleep when he says, “You were staring.”
Will refuses to blush more than he already is. “I was,” he admits. He moves forward a little and tucks a strand of Mike's hair behind his ear. Gives a shrug. “You're pretty.”
Okay, so Mike's not at too-tired-to-feel-flustered level yet, because his eyes widen a little, color suffusing his cheeks, and Will can't help but smile. Although it is, truthfully, not that hard for him to make Mike blush, the combination of accomplishment and amusement and fondness he feels whenever he does never fails to make an appearance.
He cups Mike's cheek in his palm, because he can, and isn't that just the best kind of miracle, getting to hold something you never thought you'd have?
Mike's eyes are wide, and there is something in them that makes Will's heart do a little flip in his chest. He brushes his thumb across Mike's cheek, and he repeats, voice barely above a whisper, “Pretty.”
Mike's face is reminiscent of the color of a fire engine. His mouth is moving wordlessly, like he's been flustered speechless, and Will's face breaks out in a smile.
Mike finally decides on a halfhearted “Shut up,” eliciting a small laugh from Will. But he's closing his eyes and leaning into Will's touch.
“Why?” Will muses. “It's true.”
“Well, you're prettier.”
Will lets out a surprised laugh. Mike's compliments always catch him a little off guard, leave him reeling from the sheer consistency of them, and the way Mike always seems to believe whatever it is he's saying.
Mike's eyes fly open, and he frowns. “It's true,” he insists. “You're the prettiest ever. It's just,” he gestures at Will, “your face. And your eyes and stuff. Like, wow.”
Warmth spreads across Will's cheeks. So much for not blushing any more. “You're the worst,” he huffs, crossing his arms and slumping against the bed frame.
cw: none // ships: platonic (?) intrulogical, background queer-platonic demus // summary: remus and logan try to figure out the difference between romantic and platonic feelings. // notes: remus uses he/vae and roman is bigender // please don’t like without reblogging, reblogs are much more helpful and encouraging
———
“Remus?”
Remus looks up from his desk to the doorway, where vaer name has been called. Standing there is Logan. He’s dressed in a large blue hoodie and sweatpants with his hair pulled back in a headband and ponytail, instead of his usual attire.
“Hey Lo!” Remus says with a smile. Vae twirl in the office chair he’s in, waving towards himself. “C’mon in, don’t be a stranger!”
Logan stands for another moment, cautious, but then moves into the room, shutting the burn-covered door behind him.
“Hugs okay?” Remus asks. Logan shakes his head, still lingering near the door. “Okay, no problem! Come sit down, what’s on your mind?”
Logan sits on Remus’ bed, leg bouncing as soon as he sits. He stares blankly ahead for a moment and then speaks.
“What is love?”
“Baby don’t hurt me,” Remus sings with a laugh. Logan smiles a bit at that. “Nah but seriously, uh, in general? Or is there a more specific question?” Vae know sometimes Logan will be trying to say something specific but ends up saying something more general while trying to gather his thoughts.
“Well,” he pauses, trying to think of how to phrase his question. “I know, generally, what love is. It is an intense or deep affection for someone you care about. But there’s many kinds. The Greeks words for love are agape, eros, philia, storge, philautia, and xenia, but what’s used now is platonic, romantic, queer-platonic, and familial.”
Logan pauses, and Remus nods to him, so he continues. “Familial and platonic I understand. Familial is love between family, and platonic is love between friends. But I don’t understand queer-platonic or romantic.”
“Ohh okay!” Remus says, understanding the question now. “Uh, shouldn’t you be asking Roman about this? He’s a lot more- “
“She day,” Logan corrects.
“She’s a lot more knowledgeable on romance, y’know? She’d probably be able to explain it better than me.”
“Well, that may be true, but even if you know less, we understand each other more than Roman and I. I’ll understand more of what you explain compared to Roman explaining it.”
“That makes sense,” Remus hums. “Well, queer-platonic’s probably gonna be easier for me to explain because of me and Snakey, so we’ll start there.”
Remus gets up and starts pacing in front of Logan. Moving around helps vaem get vaer thoughts in order.
“Okay so queer-platonic love is sort of a blurred mid line between platonic and romantic. It’s not romantic love and it’s not platonic. It’s stronger than what people traditionally consider platonic, like some qpps want to get married! And that’s not a traditionally platonic thing. It was started by aromantic people, but anyone can use it.
“It’s also, like, subjective I guess? Like Jan and I, we totally could have stuck with labeling our relationship platonic! Because really, queer-platonic is a thing because society has really weird specifications for what should be romantic and platonic. We just use the label because it kinda makes more sense? It’s-, ugh.”
Remus plummets backwards, landing on the floor on his back.
“Okay maybe it’s not easier. I’m sorry Lo, but it’s really weird to explain. Hell, I don’t really get it! Like, romantic feelings are supposed to be so much stronger than platonic, and you’re not supposed to want to kiss and cuddle and that shit with friends, but it doesn’t make sense why!”
“See, that’s my problem!” Logan exclaims from the bed. “How is the strength between friends different than between partners? Where’s the figurative line between close friends and partners? How do you differentiate between romantic and platonic?”
The pair are silent for a moment, taking in the thoughts.
“Romance is such a weird fucking concept,” Remus sighs, sitting up on the floor. Logan nods.
“I wouldn’t typically word it that way, but I agree,” Logan says. “I also may be romance repulsed.”
“Like on the aro spectrum?” Remus asks.
“I’m not sure,” Logan responds, flopping sideways to lay on Remus’ bed. “I just know that standard romantic things, like flirting and kissing, ‘lovey-dovey stuff’,” He does air quotes. “are repulsive to me.”
“That’s valid!” Remus replies. Vae get up and sits at the foot of the bed. “Y’know, I blame this on Disney.”
Logan’s silent, then snorts and laughs. Remus giggles at Logan’s reaction.
“Seriously!” Vae say through giggles. “Romance was a marketing scheme by Disney to sell shit!”
Logan cackles, shoving Remus with his foot. They both laugh for a minute, happy in each other’s company.
When his laughter dies down to breathless giggles, Logan sits up next to Remus and takes vaer hand.
“Love is a very confusing and strange concept, to both of us it seems.” Remus nods. “Nonetheless…I love you Remus. Romantic or platonic or whatever, it doesn’t matter. I care about you very, very much and you’re very important to me. I’m glad to have you in my life.”
Remus gives him a sharp toothed grin and grips his hand a little tighter. “Love you too Lolo. Now, you wanna watch a movie?”
Note: Remus uses vae/vaem pronouns and Logan uses star/stars and moon/moons pronouns. -💚
——————
“Logan!” As stars name is shouted, Logan looks up from the computer moon’s been staring at for too many hours. Moons boyfriend is at the door in vaer green comfort hoodie and pouting, hands on vaer hips.
“Yes?” Logan asks. Remus’ pout turns into a frown.
“Get away from the computer and give me attention,” vae whine. Logan rolls stars eyes and saves stars work. Remus notices this and gasps, hurrying over to their shared bed and flopping onto it.
With the work now saved, moon directs moons attention to moons smiling boyfriend, vaer arms open and waiting for star. “I assume you’re wanting to be cuddled?”
Remus nods eagerly. Logan smiles at vaem with a fond sigh. Star moves to the bed, barely getting moonself on before Remus grabs star.
“Love, let me get in bed,” Logan laughs, giggling a bit when Remus nuzzles stars stomach.
“But I need cuddles now!” Despite the whine, vae let Logan under the covers before vae snuggle up to star again.
Remus scoots down, resting vaer head on Logan’s chest and happily noting star hadn’t been binding while working. A cold hand comes up to Logan’s stomach, snaking under stars shirt and tracing the stretch marks on stars side.
“Remus!” star laughs. “Your hands are too cold, get off!” Remus buries vaer head in Logan’s shirt, muttering a small “never” as vaer hand stays on Logan’s stomach.
“You’re so soft and warm,” Remus sighs, relaxing further against vaer partner. Logan snickers, wrapping both arms around the other.
“And you’re freezing,” star says, kissing Remus’ forehead. “I love you.”
[ work in progress || humanstuck high school au || john/dave/karkat || trans masc karkat is pissed about being afab and comes out to his boyfriends || tws for kinda graphic/specific talk about dysphoria, descriptive talk about afab bodies, deadnaming, swearing, and transphobia and queerphobia mentions ]
“Hey Vantas!”
“Vantas, you’re late. Again.”
“Hey K, ‘sup?”
“KK! There you are!”
Just the way he likes it, no one refers to Karkat by his name. Well, that’s not really how he prefers it. He’d rather be called Karkat, especially by his boyfriends. Problem is, no one knows that’s his name.
Because the universe hates him and decided to give him a big “Fuck you” as soon as he was born, Karkat Vantas is, unfortunately, AFAB. Which is just a fancy way of saying whatever deity or deities may be out there decided, “Hey! This guy seems pretty shit! Let’s give him a pussy!”. Karkat thinks it would have been nicer for them to just let him never be born.
And, of fucking course, he had to be a trans guy with a transphobic bitchy mother who wanted a perfect daughter.
“Surely it can’t get worse?” It can. The cherry on top of the pile of shit that is Karkat’s life: tits. That’s sort of a given, seeing as how he’s AFAB. But he just had to get tits that are too small to be “attractive” but too big to hide in sports bras or under big hoodies. He hates his chest so, so much and just wishes he could get a binder already.
Anyways.
Today is a big, terrifying, “if this goes wrong, just feed me to my mother” day. Today, Karkat plans to come out to his boyfriends.
Dave and John are pretty cool. They’re not queerphobic in the slightest. They’re both bi, Dave’s uncle is a trans guy, his sister’s nonbinary, and John’s sister is queer. Karkat knows they’re going to be cool about it. That doesn’t help the acidic anxiety in his stomach though.
“Mom, I’m goin’ to Dave’s!” Karkat shouts from the front door, trying to relace his stupid sneakers.
His mom yells something back about being safe or not being home late? He doesn’t catch it, focusing too much on his deadname being shouted through the house.
He wants to burn that name from his memory and everyone else’s. Hell, he wants that name to be gone forever. No one ever gets to be named his deadname again. It’s illegal.
Mentally reminding himself to ask Terezi if that would hold up in court, he grabs his scooter and earbuds and heads out the door.
It’s days like this he really appreciates how close his boyfriends live to him. He thinks he’d probably explode if he had a long distance relationship. His cousin Nepeta’s in one with her queer-plationic partner, Equius. She says its not that bad, but Karkat knows better after holding her while she sobs and cries about wanting to hug her partner.
Before he can start daydreaming (daynightmaring? whatever) about his boyfriends living across the country, he shoves his earbuds in, turns on his “Gender is Bullshit” playlist, and hops on the scooter.
