ic fmk: sing edition

[singhelpers]

Fuck (kiss), marry, or kill


— post your a toplevel for your character or throw three people's names out into the ether
— decide which one your character would like to fuck (or hug for the wee ones), marry, or kill
— respond appropriately
— shenanigans ensue

Comments

OH BOY OH BOY....assuming this is post separation/reuinon too..... uh oh sisters...

[m1895]

[ An awkward cough from a man who was not expecting that question, and also has no idea what the safest bet is here, because he most certainly would fuck him (up to and including right now if he were to ask), and thinks about fucking him, and how he'd be—but he can't say that. Right. Right?

Marry hits a little too close to home, considering the... roles they've taken in the household, the joint nature of most of their business, but he certainly can't say he'd rather kill him than have sex with him or be married to him, and it's also not true. Plenty of guys with no interest in anything but women had said they'd fuck their comrades, back when he was in uniform—said as a raunchy compliment, usually prior to the recipient leaving on a first date—but it wouldn't fit the tune of most of their interactions.

He answers lightheartedly. Playful! This is so normal! He's just a non-homosexual man (when did it become so important that his housemate perceive him as not attracted to any men at all? When had him not getting the wrong idea about their living arrangements become so critical—) joking around with a friend on a boring winter's day. ]

Marry. You're a tidy housemate. And you know how to cook. [ Beat. ] Not that you're not fuckable, but you already know that, Mr. Hero of the Soviet Union.

[ Yeah... stick that landing, Vasya. ]

ROLLING UP MY SLEEVES

[sputnik]

[ Weirdly, stupidly, somehow, he was simply not anticipating Vasiliy answering this. And just as weirdly, stupidly, somehow, he finds himself initially startled by the response.

It's some knee-jerk thing, maybe. "Marriage" is.... an odd concept, for him. An odd thought. (An undesirable one, if he'd let himself look at it brutally honestly, but he's always kept those thoughts safely tucked down under the usual layers. He's terrified of the thought, for a multitude of reasons.)

Not that all of that comes pouring out now. Just— the kneejerk reaction is something that flinches a little. He realises, suddenly, that Vasiliy's also the only person who gave that reply to him. Which makes him wonder how he might react if it was anyone else, and for some reason.... for some reason, he thinks none of it would feel as strange as this particular reply from this particular man.

— Not that you're not fuckable, but you already know that, Mr. Hero of the Soviet Union.

..........That's another piece to it, something that renders him bizarrely speechless. Everyone has given that reply to him, and Konstantin's taken all of that with playful delight, so easy and natural. And yet here, now, hearing Vasiliy say that.... (He thinks he's 'fuckable'? Attractive in that particular way?)

....Vasiliy means all of it as a joke, right. Of course. All of this is very tongue-in-cheek, not meant to be taken seriously at all, and it's obvious Vasya is being playful, in the ways men of their culture would be. Of course he is! Konstantin slips past the initial startle and the confused jumble of thoughts and the odd dose of pleasure to be seen as desirable by Vasiliy Ardankin Specifically, and smiles playfully, too. ]

Then it sounds like I'd be the perfect package. You better swipe me up before someone else does, Vasya.

SCREAMMMMM

[m1895]

[ How that makes his heart leap into his throat, little to Konstantin’s knowledge (as always). Is it not enough that he’s already the ideal Soviet man, without being an incorrigible flirt? It’s a unique sort of torment, the way he has an uncanny ability to parrot exactly what he’s already thinking unironically. He’d think this were some kind of punishment, too, were he not so wonderful to be around in every other way, even if the relationship will never go as far as he’d like it to—God, he really is fuckable; it’s a laughable understatement, even as he sits around in his usual track pants and tee shirt, filling it out a little less than he did a few months ago—he’d be happy just to be the man’s friend for the rest of time. That’s what a relationship is at its core, isn’t it?

(Not that it eases the sting of his unavailability, or the very real knowledge that there will eventually be a woman who pulls him away and ends this. He tries not to think about it.)

And he tries not to think about that right now, too; he doesn’t let the playful twinkle leave his eyes. ]

That’s my plan. You’ll get so used to the smell of smoke you won’t be able to live without me. Besides, where are you going to find a strapping young huntress to bring you grouse?