Chapter 13 It Sounds Really Crass When You Put it Like That
thirteen
it sounds really crass when you put it like that
Can we trade sisters?
I don’t expect Damien to respond right away; I know he’s visiting family for the weekend, and he won’t be on his laptop all the time. But I hate not being able to just talk at him whenever I want.
He’s pretty much always online when I am, which makes me think he’s probably always online, and I find it comforting. For one thing, it means he’s always available when I want to play some SOA4. But it also means he’s not hanging out with someone else.
Not that I should care about that. He can hang out with whomever he wants.
He’s a grown-up, at least technically. And I know that he does sometimes spend time with his roommates—on purpose, even—but usually when he sees a message from me, he switches over to gaming pretty quickly.
(Maybe I should feel bad about hogging him all the time, but I don’t.)
Wednesday evening was a bit awkward on my end, after everything, but we quickly fell back into a rhythm of conversing and gaming and soon I’d forgotten all about the unwelcome dream I’d had the night before. Pretty much.
But we didn’t see each other in person for the rest of the week before he headed to his parents’ house for the weekend, and I’m unreasonably disappointed by that.
My usual Saturday afternoon coffee date with Victory was great yesterday, but the rest of the weekend so far has been miserable.
Saturday night dinner with my family—including the sinister sister—was a headache.
And we have to have dinner together again tonight for Thanksgiving. As if any of us care about that.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t belittle everything that I enjoy, if she didn’t constantly try to make me look like a fool just because I have hobbies and interests.
Damien’s sister has hobbies and interests, though, and I think I would prefer her instead.
SconesOfAyor:
I don’t think that’s how families work
His immediate response surprises me, and when I click on his icon, it doesn’t say that he’s online. I know that he sometimes likes to appear offline while we chat, but it would be nice to see that little green dot today.
I didn’t expect you to be online
SconesOfAyor:
I’m just using the phone app
It’s janky though
Yeah I never use it
SconesOfAyor:
I’m currently listening to my grandparents talk about a trip they took in 1983
Which they have told us about in detail countless times
So I’m about to pass out from boredom
But at least my dad’s in a different room because he hates it too
This is the lesser of evils
Isn’t it rude to be on your phone if you’re with your family, then?
SconesOfAyor:
Did I mention the conservative assholes thing? I think rude is appropriate
Oh right, I forgot
SconesOfAyor:
Emily says hi though
Is that your sister?
SconesOfAyor:
Yeah
I told her you were the one at the stationery shop and she got very excited
I think she wants to steal you from me
Not that you’re mine
I just mean she wants to steal you as my friend
To be her friend
I’m going to shut up now
I laugh at the number of messages that pour in over the span of five seconds. He definitely has a thing for the word-vomit, even in text. Perhaps especially in text.
Please never shut up
SconesOfAyor:
Good because I don’t know how to
Also Emily wants to know if you knit
I crochet, does that count?
I have to wait nearly a full minute for the response, and I find myself staring at the chat window the entire time. I wish I could say I had better things to do on a Sunday afternoon, but of course I never do.
SconesOfAyor:
She says that’s acceptable
Congratulations, you are now the proud recipient of my sister’s undying devotion
She’s now telling me that’s a weird way for me to say it but I stand by my decision
I promise to take good care of it
SconesOfAyor:
Anxiety—and something else, something even more unwelcome—swells in my chest at the sight of a heart, despite the fact that Victory and I text each other heart emojis no less than three thousand times a day. But it’s not something Damien and I do, ever. In fact, he hardly uses emojis at all.
I’m trying not to read too much into it, but—
SconesOfAyor:
That was from her, for the record
Of course.
Duly noted
SconesOfAyor:
sorry if my brother is being weird but he’s weird and you just have to get used to it
That was also from her
I AM A BUTTHEAD
-__-
I still want to trade sisters
Another minute passes without a response, and then two, and I tell myself not to take it personally.
But I keep wondering if I finally did it, if I finally became too weird for him.
I shove the thought aside and open one of my old SOA3 saves, feeling the need for something comforting and familiar right now.
I hadn’t gotten very far with this one—I’d only just recruited Sammy and had not even started his quest line yet.
His companion quest line is one of my favourites in the entire game, besides Hadley’s, although Damien was right: romancing him is really creepy because he practically worships you by the end if you choose all the dialogue options necessary to earn enough points with him.
I’m off to threaten some Swindler’s Syndicate goons on Sammy’s behalf, wish me luck
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve nearly reached the tavern where the thugs threatening Sammy like to hang out by the time Damien replies. I pause my game immediately.
SconesOfAyor:
Sorry for disappearing
I was dragged into doing tech support because I’m the only one in this house who knows how to turn a computer off and on apparently
But yes Sammy must be protected at all costs
That beautiful sweet dumbass
That reminds me of a terrible fic I read where the author called Sammy a “himbo"
SconesOfAyor:
No.
He may be a dumbass but he’s way too clever and manipulative to be a himbo
Treagan is a himbo though
But he’s in 4 so who is the himbo in 3?
SconesOfAyor:
I don’t think there is one
You must be the himbo you wish to see in the world
Wise words
SconesOfAyor:
…
So you read SOA fanfic huh?
No comment
SconesOfAyor:
I can’t say I’ve tried it myself
But I am curious what kind of person would call Sammy a himbo
And I’m extremely bored
Share the link?
I don’t save the bad ones so I don’t have the link to it
SconesOfAyor:
Send me a good one then
I hesitate for a moment before I open a new tab and scroll through my bookmarked fanfics. If I filter to only show The Stones of Ayor fanfiction, I notice a distinct pattern emerge.
Um, the only ones I have saved are Hadley/Sammy fics
SconesOfAyor:
Hammy is my ship!
That’s not true
And I really hope no one calls it that
I want to stab my eyeballs out with chopsticks
SconesOfAyor:
How weirdly specific
Don’t ever inflict “Hammy” on anyone again
SconesOfAyor:
Well I obviously don’t have a problem with dude on dude fanfiction
At least the dude on dude part
I’m still iffy about the fanfiction part
Forget it
SconesOfAyor:
I’m kidding
Sort of
I’ll be honest I’m preparing myself to be scarred for life
What do you actually think fanfiction is?
SconesOfAyor:
I’m not really sure but I know I don’t want anything with the words alpha and omega in it
How do you even know what that is?
Never mind
I wouldn’t send you anything smutty fyi
In case you were worried
SconesOfAyor:
Worried? No
Hopeful? Maybe
I’m not going to send you porn
SconesOfAyor:
It sounds really crass when you put it like that
I scroll through my list again and pick out a short one that I thought was pretty sweet. He’ll probably think it’s ridiculous, anyway. I copy the link and paste it into our chat window, then return to my game to give him time to read.
I’m in the middle of a tense conversation with a bandit leader that I’m trying to convince not to murder us all when Damien finally acknowledges the fic.
SconesOfAyor:
That wasn’t as horrifying as I expected
You thought I would send you something horrifying?
SconesOfAyor:
Out of spite, absolutely
I would have
I’m obviously nicer than you
SconesOfAyor:
That’s true
I don’t even know why you like me
I don’t mean *like me*
Not like that
I just mean you talk to me
Even though I don’t know how to shut up
Although maybe you aren’t talking to me anymore
Which is understandable
In which case I wish you a nice life
With your Hammy fanfiction
Seriously though
I’m losing my mind in this house
Save me
Holy shit
SconesOfAyor:
Hi!
You’re the worst
[thewoooooorst.gif]
The thing about Thanksgiving dinner in the Grace family household is that, once again, none of us can cook worth a damn.
So, there’s no huge turkey dinner with all the fixings.
Just the Swiss Chalet Festive Special that comes with a lump of stuffing and a glob of cranberries to make it festive.
Which is fine by me, since I prefer chicken to turkey anyway.
Mom has to cut Gram’s chicken into small pieces so she can eat it with her chopsticks. She’s actually gotten pretty good at using them by now.
I watch Marie arrange her food on her plate just the way she likes it—fries on the left, chicken on the right, stuffing at the top. And no Chalet sauce. Because she’s a heathen. But that’s okay because it means there’s more sauce for me. I could drink that stuff.
“Make sure you wish Josh a happy Thanksgiving from us,” Mom says after we’ve started eating, and Marie freezes with her fork in midair.
“Yeah, sure.” She lowers her fork to pick up her wine glass, looking shaken.
Mom glances at me and I know we’re thinking the same thing. She’d said that Marie and Josh were having troubles, and now he’s not here. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that something’s going on there, but no matter how many times Mom brings him up, Marie doesn’t share anything.
I don’t know how she’s able to do that. All Mom has to do is give me The Look and I cave and tell her anything she wants to know. But Marie seems to be immune.