you see dean martin for the first time when you’re thirteen years old. he’s new in town, and he’s been assigned a seat next to you on the bus. he’s wearing an outfit that his father clearly picked out for him.
he’s scowling as he moves next to you, arms crossed over his chest.
he looks annoying, you think.
there’s nothing warm or inviting about him. you scoot a little closer to the window just to slightly distance yourself from him.
at first, you hate him. he just seems…weird to you, somehow. he never smiles at you when you say good morning. after a while, you just stop saying it.
he never stays on his side of the seat. his feet are constantly bumping into yours.
you get the feeling that he doesn’t like you very much either. but you can’t really tell, because he seems to have a major case of resting dick face.
eventually, though, he starts to warm up to you, and by the end of eighth grade, you two are best friends.
you don’t even remember how it happened, really. you suppose that one morning, the two of you just actually get around to talking to one another. and from that moment, dean martin becomes a permanent fixture in your friend group.
he comes out to you the summer before freshman year, on one of those sticky-sweet hot july nights. you’re sitting on his back porch, popsicle in hand, shades pushed up into your hair, when he turns to you.
"i think i like boys," he says.
and because you’re only fourteen and an idiot and don’t know how to properly respond, you give him a thumbs up.
"cool with me, bro," you say back.
years later, you’ll apologize to him for not responding in a normal fucking way, but he’ll brush it off, laughing.
"it’s fine," he’ll say. "i know you meant it in a supportive and loving way."
halfway through sophomore year, you realize that you’re hopelessly in love with him. you’re in love with his shy smile, so rare and coveted that you’re convinced you’re one of the only people who’s actually seen it happen in real life. you’re in love with his laugh when you say something unexpectedly funny that catches him off guard. if sounds were visible, you’re positive that dean’s laugh would sparkle. you’re in love with the way he inches closer to you for warmth when the morning bus ride is too cold on autumn mornings.
you come out to him on the morning bus ride the day before thanksgiving break. it’s not often you see dean smile. he only really smiles under extreme circumstances. but still, he smiles at you. his semi-permanent scowl is wiped off his face for a rare moment. he holds your hands in his.
"welcome to the club," he says.
you beam back at him. you desperately want to tell him that you love him. that it aches to be in love with your best friend. but you’re afraid that telling him could ruin your friendship, so you keep your mouth shut.
you kiss him for the first time during the summer before your junior year. you’re both at a party, the bass from the speakers pounding in your ears. you’re sort of mildly drunk out of your mind.
you’re not thinking straight, and dean just looks so good that you feel the need to say something.
so you do.
"you look good," you say.
"what?" he shouts back, clearly struggling to hear you over the blaring music and general deafening party noise.
"i said you look good," you shout back.
he blushes. it’s hilarious, because he’s still got that godforsaken scowl on his face, but his cheeks are turning a beautiful rosy pink. you want to grab his face and kiss him until he can’t speak.
"i want to kiss you," you yell over the music.
"so kiss me," he yells back.
so you kiss him.
it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.
you always thought it was such bullshit when people said kissing someone was like fireworks, but now you get it. there’s a whole fourth of july fireworks and sparklers show going off in your head as he deepens the kiss.
the two of you have a long talk about it the next day. by the end of it, you’ve made plans for your first date.
it’s typical first-date shit. just the classic, dinner and pretending to watch the movie when really you’re staring at your date the entire time.
he holds your hand throughout the entire thing.
just before you’re about to start walking him home, you remember that there’s a photobooth tucked into a little corner of the movie theater lobby. you drag him by the hand to it, begging him to just sit in the booth for, like, two minutes.
he agrees.
"just smile," you say just before the flash goes off.
he does not smile. you giggle, because you know he’s just doing it to piss you off.
you kiss his cheek, and you can feel him smiling in a cute little surprised way as the second flash goes off.
he turns to you to give you a proper kiss, his mouth on yours, and the third and fourth flashes go off, but you don’t stop kissing him until another couple shoos you out so that they can take some photos of their own.
the pictures turn out fucking great.
you tell him you love him during your junior year.
"i’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while," you say. "since before i even kissed you."
he just blinks at you.
"you don’t have to say it back yet if you’re not ready," you say.
he kisses you sweetly, tenderly, and you’re on cloud fucking nine.
dean tells you that he loves you the summer before your senior year.
he’s sleeping over at your house, and you’re cuddling until you eventually doze off.
you’ve been asleep for a while, but karkat taps your shoulder lightly until you wake up.
"i love you too," he says.
you're happy, and nothing hurts.
things start to change during senior year. he seems more distant, less open. you know he struggles with his mental health, but you’re not sure that you’d even know how to help him if he opened up to you about it.
you only ask him about it once.
are you alright? you ask, and he smiles back at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
i’m fine, babe, he says back.
you can tell he’s not, but you don’t want to push it any further, so you simply don’t say anything.
you kiss him on the forehead and tell him that you love him. you tell him that he means the world to you.
you wish that had been enough to keep him from killing himself.
you see dean martin for the last time when you’re eighteen years old. his body is lying in the solid wood coffin his mother picked out for him.
his eyes are closed, and his arms are crossed over his chest.
he doesn’t look like himself, you think.
he looks too peaceful, too happy. your heart aches. you long to be with him. you lean in to get closer, to get just a few more seconds of contact before he’s put into the ground forever.
later that night, you pull out your old photos of dean. pictures from sophomore and junior homecoming. pictures from junior prom. pictures of him and you together in the photobooth on your first date. those pictures feel like they were taken ages ago, now.
you stare at your favorite photo of him, a more recent one. it’s a great candid shot. he’s laughing, his smile as bright as the sun.
"it’s not fair," you say to him, though you know he can’t hear you.
"you’re too young," you say. "to die, i mean. too young to be so miserable that you…felt like you had no choice but to…"
you trail off.
you take a deep breath.
"i wish you hadn’t done it," you say. "i wish you had talked to me. i wish you had talked to anyone."
you realize, suddenly, that you’re crying. you wipe at the tears with the back of your hand.
"i wanted to go to senior prom with you, dean," you say through your tears. "would’ve made it a whole big deal. stretch limo, matching tuxedos, the whole nine yards. i wanted to graduate with you. i wanted to go to colleges in the same city, so we could still be close. i wanted to get married to you. hell, i wanted to start a family with you."
your tears won’t stop flowing now, and it’s gotten to a point where you just don’t care about wiping them away anymore. you stare at the photo again for a few moments before a thought hits you.
you don’t know how to go on without him.
the next few minutes are all a blur, but by the end of them, you’re sitting on the bathroom floor, medicine cabinet open, a sea of pills on the floor around you. you vaguely remember swallowing a shit ton of them.
the crying has completely become full-body sobbing, at this point. everything hurts. your heart is pounding, and everything’s far too loud.
then, all of a sudden, there’s a brief second of silence.
you let out one last sob, and then all of the pain stops. everything stops.
something i find really interesting abt the hsirl kids is really just how close they are to the beta kids. you have the heir (traz), knight (seth), witch (reed), and seer (ryle) , as well as a space player (traz), a breath player (reed), and a time player if you count deltabot.
seth as a hope player and ryle as a heart player differ moreso than the others, but even then it's rather funny how those two line up somewhat with the alpha kids. seth with jake more than ryle with dirk, of course, but similarities are still present! seth,,sort of has a brain ghost dirk but it's ryle heh.
something i find really interesting abt the hsirl kids is really just how close they are to the beta kids. you have the heir (traz), knight (seth), witch (reed), and seer (ryle) , as well as a space player (traz), a breath player (reed), and a time player if you count deltabot.
seth as a hope player and ryle as a heart player differ moreso than the others, but even then it's rather funny how those two line up somewhat with the alpha kids. seth with jake more than ryle with dirk, of course, but similarities are still present! seth,,sort of has a brain ghost dirk but it's ryle heh.
lmao imagine actually writing story for one of your sburb fansessions. (from my limeblood ocs pov)
She was the one who forced you into hiding, she made Ittara so desperate for power he ended up being cut out of most conversations, she made Kariae terrified to exist because he would end up an engine someday. She had killed Pirens like she was nothing, too.
No one would be able to live a real life, a good life, if they were conscripted or killed as soon as they hatched.
You might die. Hell, it was doubly as likely that you would die than be alright, and start some new empire, sans Empress.
Maybe it was selfish of you to even try anything like that.
What if you destroyed society, because you couldn’t just let yourself die? What if they actually were going to take over and ruin things, and you were pushing for it like an idiot?
But when you sat in the shower, the water turned too hot only because you had started snapping at your troll-lusus for being too touchy, you couldn’t think of any other option.
Your friends, your moirail…You were needed, now. There was no other option. You had to be with them, you had to stay alive no matter what.
Even if you destroyed this entire planetary system, and ruined it for everyone.
Thinking of it like that made you feel like you're setting yourself up for failure. Were you supposed to be some kind of hero? You were only cullbait who tried to be a Specterrorizer. Specterrorizers weren’t even high on the military ladder; hell, many trolls didn't even count them as military because of how low they were.
You had been aiming low. And that was because you knew you couldn't have been better, you couldn't have been a real power player, you knew that well. There was no real chance for you to just… Be something. There was no chance for you to actually be powerful, or important.
And now you had to kill the Empress. The leader of your entire universe, who had been in control for longer than almost anyone was alive. The Pirateer Grimwish was her "best friend," she said. What if he retaliated?
Would Ittara be..?
He told you over and over to 'just do your best'. Anything would be fine. And you told him that this was your best, making sure that Ittara had something left of him, no matter what, because you weren't close to anyone else anymore. You still cared about them, but they weren't Ittara, and they weren't safe for him anymore.
Kariae had sunken deeper and deeper into anonymity, Eshwar never left your forest, Rascha was always two words away from a nervous breakdown because of her need to please the Empire and her need to protect her moirail. Ekaine was dodging drones who wanted her dead, and Aeizar was barely keeping his facade ability going.
At the same time as reminding you how fucking lonely your life was, it was helpful for Ittara to tell you everything he safely could about your friends because it made you want to fight harder. It made you want to make it better than it was, make it so your friends, the ones who hadn't died or lost themselves to their grief, could be happy, alive, and healthy as they fucking could be.
You wanted to give Esakar, Ittara, Rascha, Katyam… All the caste-locked jobs they were headed to with no other options, no other hopes, you wanted to change it. You wanted to make it so they could at least try to stay alive doing other things.
You don't know anything about government, political shit, policy, but you wanted to make it better, and the head of all of this mess was Sov, so taking her down would help. Ittara said Eshwar promised that the clowns wanted nothing to do with any kind of uprising, because they just wanted to be able to worship and be safe, and not be forced into service to be able to practice. You didn’t want to consider that the Highblood might be benefitted by not having Sov around, beyond politically anyway. Eshwar insisted that there was no way that the Highblood could ever be anything but fully in control, and swore that there was nothing that could overpower him. He was the strongest clown, he was the leader of the Church, he couldn’t be swayed just because Sov was able to get close.
So you wouldn't keep asking about it. Everything would settle one way or another...eventually.
"Finley, get out of my room," Aeizar groaned. Observing the wall decor, Tess was surprised to see a fursona art print. Turning towards the troll, he stuck a thumb out towards the drawing.
"What's up with the art? You look like someone who'd call me cringe for being a furry. Not that I am one, but y'know," Tess quipped, eying Aeizar's eternally grumpy look. However, upon hearing Tess's comment, he frowned and gave him an annoyed glance. "What?"
"Finley.. I'm literally Katyam's moirail. You know? The catgirl?" Aeizar raised an eyebrow at the blonde. Tess cringed back. "What now?"
"Dude.. Isn't Katy, like, trans?" Aeuzar wrinkled his nose.
"Yeah, so?"
"So? Dude, that's so fucked. Don't call them a girl then," Tess said, incredulous that he even had to say such a thing. Aeizar groaned and wiped his face with his hands. Taking a deep breath, he began again.
"Finley, Yams doesn't care about being called a cat girl because she's literally a cat girl! Being nonbinary doesn't change the cat girl thing," Aeizar said, his eyes starting to spark from irritation. "I think I know more about her gender than a guy who's barely met her."
Sensing he's struck a nerve, Tess bit the inside of his cheek and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah, you're right. Sorry, man. I guess I just get defensive over that kinda shit because of Eshwar and y'know.. basically all my friends.. Wow, we're all trans, huh?" Blinking, Tess started nervously rambling. "I mean, shit, there's me, Esh, Macy, Jass, Rory, Rosa, Elie, Pirens, Esakar, Ittara, Mashak, and apparently Katyam too, holy shit. Aw fuck, are you trans too, Aeizar? If not, you gotta join the club, man. I swear we're cool. I'm sure we can make you some fuckin' welcoming gift. Jass and I can bake for you and Keirli could make ice cream. Shit, if you join, Macy's gonna force us to watch Tom Cruise movies. Maybe you shouldn't join."
Aeizar closed his eyes. It's okay. He can do this. He's been friends with Eshwar since they were wrigglers. He can deal with his best friend's boyfriend's idiotic ramblings for a little longer.
"If you don't wanna join, you can be our honorary member. Maybe Eshie will give you a congratulatory blowjob. Wait, fuck, forget I said that."
Okay, nope. Not doing this. Aeizar stopped Tess's speech with his psiionics. Even so, he could hear the cogs whirling in Tess's mind on how Aeizar's psiionics could be used in the bedroom. He gave him a warning glare and Tess's face immediately turned red.
"Finley. You are going to shut up. No, don't make this weird and sexual. You're going to stop making weird slip-ups about your matesprit giving me head. Holy fuck, why would that even cross your mind," Aeizar asked, the sentence finally penetrating his mind.
At the very least, Tess looked embarrassed, but not even remotely ashamed. Shaking his head, Aeizar facepalmed before continuing.
"For your information, I am trans. So is Rascha and all the lowbloods. We just don't find it as culturally significant as humans. Seriously, who the fuck cares what others identify as?"
Letting the psiionic hold loosen, Aeizar collapsed on his beanbag. Tess let his hand linger on his mouth. It was all tingly from Aeizar's hold on him.
"So.. you aren't going to join our club," Tess asked with a grin. Aeizar used his psionics to toss a energy drink can at Tess's head while he laughed and dodged it. "Okay, I'll leave you to your weird gaming stuff. See you later, Eggs!"
Once Tess ran out of the room, Aeizar shook his head and turned back to his husktop to continue caring for his online pets.
pretty sure im the only person working on hsirl ambitious enough to do this. take some traseth/setraz shenanigans i spent way too long on. (2hrs, 34mins)
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