Ryan Farrow (
mediumatlarge) wrote in
fifthcurriculum2014-09-05 09:27 pm
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INTRO LOG
[[Exactly what it says on the tin! This is just an initial log to sort of get things started and is largely freeform, open to (but not limited to):
-Meetings before classes start
-First day business
-Dormshenanigans meetings
-First classes in progress
-or whatever the heck else you want to do for beginning-of-term things!
There's a CR meme up now for some initial planning if you like, or feel free to just hop in here.]]
-Meetings before classes start
-First day business
-Dorm
-First classes in progress
-or whatever the heck else you want to do for beginning-of-term things!
There's a CR meme up now for some initial planning if you like, or feel free to just hop in here.]]
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[genuinely curious now, horny street rat.]
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Another challenge. That's all he hears. Not a no. John's lucky Petre wants something out of his own volition, because he wouldn't be above something a lot worse otherwise. He wouldn't even think of it as being abuse.]
Whatever you say, fire balls.
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I don't see how this is so hard to understand. You're already a mutant. You get the whole minority thing. There's a whole world of guys out there who don't want to fuck you and probably never will, so why not just stick to the ones that do?
[Of course, a lot of the reason he turned away was the insistent way Petre kept worrying at his lower lip, combined with an extra notch of intensity in his gaze. Like he was hungry. Being looked at like that by anyone will cause a reaction, he thinks - the sheer level of sexual energy emanating from him and zeroing in on John was ridiculous, there are probably people in the hallway wondering why they suddenly got a shiver.]
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[He tilts his head, apparently uncaring, still eying John because he's all about this discomfort, all about exercising his power in any way he can. Even as John's so reluctant to let him have anything, he still somehow strives to draw blood from stone.]
We could all just have fun together, if everyone wasn't so hung up on the details.
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[God, this argument is so circular, and yet it gets him just as irritated every time.]
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[And now he's got his lighter out, opening and closing under the desk. A sure sign of agitation.]
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[He says that with an almost clinical tone, an argument in a debate. Totally not just an onslaught of blunt and shocking words meant to draw out that same old repulsion.]
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I didn't wanna have to get personal here, Petre, but you're not my type. At all. In any way. I was just going for the most obvious reason.
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[He leans his chin on his palm, all ears.]
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[He's self-aware enough to know that his side weakens as he gets angrier. He just doesn't have the control to stop it.]
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[Tell us the truth, bro.]
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[He turns in his seat to face Petre, ready to lay some truth on him if he really wants it.]
I do like it when we can talk. Just shoot the shit. Tell stories, laugh at this place, whatever. But every time you turn it back around into some kind of campaign against me? You ruin it. This is on you, whatever you wanna believe.
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You really don't get it, do you.
[He pauses, leans back on his own seat, fingers drumming on the desk.]
I just want your attention. All of it. All on me. All the time.
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[How did he attract this kind of attention, of all things? All he wanted was one person who could listen to him without writing him off as a lunatic or or a psychopath or both, and he ended up with exactly what people think of him.
Then he shakes his head. Hard and brisk enough that several strands of hair pull loose and fall across his forehead.]
No. Forget it. You're just a goddamn toddler.
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Because.
[Petre is incapable of remorse.]
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I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you.
[pay attention to meeeee.]
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After a long, long silence, he gives Petre a level look. Calm. The preface to a purely hypothetical question that in no way shows his mounting desperation.]
Would you actually back off? If you got what you wanted?
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[Because he'd make sure John would want it. And keep wanting more, because that's how Petre works. He becomes an addiction, makes himself the center of attention until that one spotlight bores him and he moves on to the next stage.
It's all he knows. Ask him the one thing he's good at, and he'll tell you that's it.]
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[Arrogant bullshit, and not a real answer. He'll never get a real answer to anything.]
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[He presses on it, like a finger to a wound, smile gone.]
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No one has that kind of power over me. I don't let them anymore. You can piss me off all you want, you can corner me and trap me as many times as you want, but you'll never own me.
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[Right here, where no one can hear them.]
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