welcome home!


 i'll run away with you, tag: jane/ralph
trista hedy seres
 Posted on: Feb 10 2017, 11:00 PM
❝ That's just a dinosaur toy down the street, that's nothing, let me just take care of that. Just a dinosaur. ❞
toy story 3
crushing and confessed??


spinning on that dizzy edge
She absolutely knew what it was, and it scared the sprinkles out of her.

Absolutely, without a doubt, knew what it was when at 3:00 in the morning she'd randomly think of something he did a few days ago that made her smile and she'd grin at the ceiling and giggle; when she'd feel a bubble of joy bursting in her stomach area and releasing said joy out into her bloodstream to spread out everywhere when he'd try, bless him, to text her back even though she knew he didn't take to it much and yet she did it anyway and he didn't tell her to stop; when something fluttered inside if he smiled at her; when she felt warm and so good about herself when she made him laugh about something, or she did something really silly or dumb and he let her do it anyway, or anything, he'd just go with it, and she would smile, she'd smile for days for him. And she wanted to. She wanted to feel all these things, even though it had made spending time with him increasingly difficult because she was certain if she kept it up then the twinge in her chest that threatened to leave her breathless would get too much and leave her lightheaded too, and that part she didn't so much want. That was too close to showing and eventual telling, and so far, Trista had definitively avoided having to touch those routes with a 30-foot pole.

She had realized one day, while passing the time with a shooter videogame, idly chatting over the headset with a crony of hers and fleeing all over the map from enemies, precisely what she had been doing: running away. It had become easier to hide from her fears and worries, to be a big scaredypants, to continually seek out every last possible sidequest from the mundane to completely bizarre rather than face the big boss and come out the other side. Of course, it was different, she'd scream at herself, when one daunting counterattack this big boss had was pouring a big old bucket of This Sucks on her most precious friendship. How could she attempt this when that could happen? The risk was much too great, and even though she'd made decisions to try on more than one momentous occasion, she'd never followed through. She just couldn't do it. She could not, and would not, chase Ralph away from her.

But it was just so damn difficult when she'd let her mind wander, and it would decide that she hated her and drag him into her thoughts, when she'd indulge herself with fluffy fanfiction and lose sight of the lines on the screen and slowly replace the characters with herself and, damn it all, her best friend; when she heard a song and out of nowhere it would occur to her that it reminded her of them in some way; when she couldn't do a damn thing without there being a chance her meat case and electrical circuits would betray her. It was really a nightmare, trying to ignore every piece of, well, everything and to have all those pieces fighting back. How rude could life possibly get? That wasn't a challenge she was ever about to issue, but really?

The dawn of the month of February had most certainly not helped anything. Not a bit. Not even an atom. All February's lace-covered, chocolate-eating, flower-crowned head did was rub it in her face what she didn't have, what she wanted to have, and that she was a huge sissypants who would never try to have it. Trista loved love. She loved the idea of it, loved loving her friends, loved to see other people feeling it whether romantically or platonic. Every year she made it a point to give the corniest valentine cards she could find to her friends, but this year, she would've just as soon turned into a bear and hibernated in a den of blankets until it was March. Why this? Why did she have to like anyone? Why did she have to want Ralph like that?

When she had approached him with the very-much-repeated-for-them idea of playing videogames and eating pizza, that was exactly what it was: repetitive, something they did all the time and it felt weird when they didn't for more than a week, and it wasn't anything more than that. The fact that it happened on Valentine's Day was truly-- honestly-- a coincidence. She didn't pay attention to what number the day held; what mattered was if they were both free, and they were, so that was that. The day's fact didn't occur to her until about 48 hours prior to the gaming spree, where it nestled in her gut and thoroughly destroyed any sense of focus she had with what-ifs, oh-nos, and oh-hecks.

If there was ever a time to tell him... then it would be when she was already spending the evening with him, eating pizza and kicking his ass at some game, right?


They got delivery this time, because Trista had online coupons that would expire soon and had claimed they were too good to pass up (which she still stood by). So far, she thought she was doing okay. It felt normal. Other than feeling like she was standing in the "do not cross" area of an electrical zone, in her chest area, totally normal, and he hadn't given her any looks or asked why she was being weirder than her normal weird, and that was how it ought to have been. She was a downright professional at keeping it buried, considering she'd realized it all back around Christmas. There had been other times she'd meant to breach the topic, and she hadn't cracked her cover then. This wasn't any different, except this time she was going to really do it, dang it.

"Do we wanna shoot things?" she asked, tongue in her cheek as she very seriously flipped through their game options, whilst Ralph dealt with the fabled bringer of pizza. They were her coupons and she'd brought some drinkage; he could do the paying. "Orrr... ooh, what about Mario Kart? We haven't raced in a while." She held the case as she looked up at him, and tried not to smile but knew damn well it was there anyway. "You might actually win something tonight. Shocker." More like cheeky as a chipmunk, but shocker, sure, whatever.

ralph daniel alcott
 Posted on: Oct 4 2017, 06:31 PM
❝ I don’t need a medal to tell me that I'm a good guy ❞


When a moon hits your eye
like a big pizza pie, That's Amore!
Ralph was slow on the uptake. There was absolutely no hope of him ever being the sharpest tack in the lot or even remotely close. And he was okay with that, mostly. But slow or not, he had finally noticed that something was up with Trista. He didn’t know what nor did he know how to ask about it but there was something definitely weird going on. He didn't know exactly how she was different but something definitely was. Their friendship, though filled with rocky pitfalls full of mainly his own misunderstandings, was one that he treasured. He didn't have many friends but he had a strange feeling that even if he had, Trista's friendship still would have rose to the top. She didn't judge him or try to change him—but still he found himself trying to do things the way that she'd like them. For example, he was naturally a slob. Like it or not, he had lived in a literal dump for the majority of his life. And even if he had liked to clean—which he absolutely didn't—it would have been like pushing a rock up an unending hill for him to keep his home clean. So, when he had been given this apartment by Haven Hill for an absurdly low rent, he’d lived how he had always lived: trashy. And although occasionally he would clean up, it was rarely fully clean and never by his own volition. But since Trista's forcible entry into his life, he found himself not only hiring a professional to do the hard work but he could also be known to do a load or two of dishes now. Why? Because one never knew when his well-meaning friend would bust into his apartment—she had a key now though so he genuinely hoped she'd leave her lock picking days behind her —for an elaborate surprise. And honestly, though she had never seemed overly bothered by his leaning tower of pizza boxes, he liked seeing her surprised face at the cleanliness of the place and hear her praise him for the fact that he had actual dishes in his cupboards instead of stacks of “fine china".

The why eluded him though. Why should it matter to him so much that Trista liked spending time in his home? They were friends, sure, and he wanted her to be happy…but why? He went out of his way and changed his own habits to ensure it. And he was pretty sure that he didn't do that for any of his other friends. And none of their smiles made his insides feel especially warm and cozy. But hers did. And frankly, that along wit her recently weird behavior towards him weirded him out a little. But not enough to stop seeing her. Or to quit their outstanding “date" for pizza and gaming. No, he'd quite gotten used to Trista's presence in his life and home—so much so that when she wasn't around he felt…lonely. He wasn't a stranger to loneliness, he'd been pretty much left alone since he was coded, but having tasted the niceness of company—he found that he enjoyed it. Much more than he would have anticipated it.

Which is why it hurt when he'd started seeing her less and less. Oh sure, she came for their weekly or bi-weekly ritual but for awhile there Trista had all but lived in his house. Coming by two or three times a week, texts (which he still hadn't gotten used to), and even phone calls had become almost normal to him. And while he may have grumped about it at first, her overfriendly nature sort of grew on him. Like a fungus he wasn't sure he wanted. But then after Christmas—which he had thought was pretty great—things changed and he didn't know why. Did he get her the wrong present? She’d seemed to like it after she opened it…but maybe she was just being polite. Did he say something wrong? And he felt like he should ask to clear the air at least but every time he moved to do so, he chickened out. What if she wanted to stop hanging out? What if she decided that he hadn't changed enough or…or what if she liked him better before he'd changed? No that was stupid. Who liked a dirty slob? Other dirty slobs. And Trista didn't come across that way. Not that he actually knew. The pair always seemed to end up at his place. Maybe that was the problem. She wanted to meet up at her place instead but thought that he'd object. It was no great secret that Ralph was a homebody. But…he supposed he could get passed it. Or at least compromise two game nights at hers and two at his. Time permitting of course. Maybe he'd just ask tonight. Yeah. Tonight was their regular thing and what better time to talk about the elephant in the room than when she was distracted at kicking his ass—he lost way too many of these game nights—at some kind of game.

“Why don't we do Mario kart tonight. Then at least I have some kind of chance at winning.” “What the hell?” he exclaimed completely confused as to why someone would mutilate his pizza in this fashion and who in the heck would think those tiny slices near the top and bottom would be enough. “Trista…why?” Yes, he knew he wasn't formulating his thoughts properly but he had to hope that his more knowledgeable friend knew what was up.

trista hedy seres

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