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teknikolor-walters · 3 months

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uhhh poorly written thoughts on bugboy duo and brotherhood

@parkeryangs sorry in advance. and also sorry if I got any bits of cricket's lore wrong / mischaracterized him I tried my best I prommy

Cricket Sherwood considers Cicada Alexander Walters a brother.

He misses his sister, his Katydid, of course he does. There have been several times where he sits alone, on his bed, her contact open. It would be so easy to call her.

He never does.

It's better that way.

Their job is dangerous, and cruel, and violent. Sitting by and doing nothing as these people are completely destroyed. And then he is assigned to work with someone, specifically.

Ty answers all of their questions almost excitedly. He's very passionate about the new "Mikelijah Consolidation Project". He tells them that the consolidation is half Mike Walters- surely Cricket knows about the Mike Walters -and a tier three worker at OVER. All Cricket has to do is make sure that the memory tests and surgeries run smoothly. Simple.

Except it isn't. "Mikelijah" is hostile from the moment Cricket walks through the door, but he can see it in their eyes that they're just scared. Introductions and pronouns are exchanged. Cricket learns that this test subject doesn't have a name.

"You know, I named myself Cricket because I've always been really into bugs. Since childhood. Me and my sister, we would go out and try to find as many bugs as possible for us to study. Her name's Katydid. I'm pretty sure that's because of me, at least somewhat."

What Cricket doesn't mention is that their sister is in constant danger, and is wrapped up in all of this, technically, also because of them.

The test subject regards him.

"I used to be casually into entomology. It was just a passing thing, really, but Eli was into it for a bit. I should pick it back up."

And Cricket, ever the fool, says that they have some bugs in their room, if 'Mikelijah' would like to see. She says she would.

"I think I'd like to be named Cicada," they proclaim one day, as they lay on the floor of Cicada's cell next to each other. "It just feels right."

Bugs encased in resin turns into entomology textbooks turns into facts excitedly being shared between the two. The consolidation is lonely. He likes talking to Cricket.

"You're kind of a freak," they tell him. "I like that. We should be friends."

Eventually, excited facts turns into sharing details about one another's lives turns into a genuine bond. Cricket looks forward to looking after them, to be able to talk and be with them.

"It suits you."

"But I still wanna keep Mikey's last name. And maybe I'll keep Elijah's middle name too? Cicada Alexander Walters. Cuz then my initials would be CAW, like the sound a crow makes."

Cricket can't help but smile. Cicada Alexander Walters. His friend.

It's testing day. Ty always makes them stand there and watch. They know their friend's insides better than anyone, he says. They'd know if anything goes wrong.

Cricket isn't squeamish by any means, but seeing Cicada howling over the operating table, viscera exposed, makes his blood boil. He wants to protect them. He want to grab Ty and takes Ty's own tools and-

It doesn't matter in the end. It never does. Cicada never remembers it and Cricket isn't supposed to talk about it. It's not like they ever want to, anyway.

(The fact that Cicada never remembers doesn't do anything to stop the guilt. They can't shake the feeling that they're supposed to protect him, and every single time they're hurt is another one of his failures.)

Most of their time spent together is spent just hanging out. Sometimes Cricket finds music he thinks they'd like or Cicada convinces him to let them watch shitty horror movies on his even shittier computer. But today, Cricket has beads and string, and is determined to make something out of it.

The two friends slip the friendship bracelets over one another's wrists once they're done, and it feels so much bigger than it is. The bracelets themselves are shoddily made, but they can't help but feel tied together, somehow.

Bugboy 1 and bugboy 2, the bracelets proclaim.

Afterwards, Cicada leans into him, snuggling into his chest. Cricket clutches onto his friend like he's going to disappear if he doesn't.

"I love you, Crick."

"Love you too. I'll always protect you, okay?"

(Katy nods and smiles up at her brother. "Thanks. And I'll always do the same for you.")

Cicada nods and smiles up at his brother. "Thanks. And I'll always do the same for you."

Eventually, Cricket's phone buzzes. It's from Ty. He tells Cicada that he has to go and he'll see them as soon as humanly possible. Cicada says they understand. They love him. He loves them too.

And then a day passes, and another, and Cicada is gone. Nobody seems to have known where they went, and they heard no alarm bells. They want to believe that Cicada made it out. They want to believe she disabled the alarms somehow and made a home for themself away from all of this.

Still, he can't help but worry. Maybe he'd doomed another sibling. Maybe he'd failed to protect them. Maybe they were dead.

He doesn't even want to think about what would happen if they died.

Cricket more often than not finds himself sitting on the floor of the cell Cicada used to occupy, staring at the ground. They know it's selfish but in those moments they want nothing more than to hold her again. They want to know where she went.

Little brother, they ask, why did you leave me here?

There is nobody to respond.

#bugboy duo #cicada walters #THESE TWO MAKE ME SO SAD I SWEAR

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maybe-sixth-times-the-charm · 11 months

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hi, baby.

this week, we had our first real fight in quite some time. (a few weeks ago, i remember crying on the phone, trying to catch my breath, and you begging for us to stop fighting because those were the only kind of relationships you'd seen growing up and you didn't want to be one of them. i decided uss din that i wasn't going to fight with you. we were going to be the good kind of relationship and then we didn't fight for days. you and i both let some things go. it felt nice to be doing something right :)) right now, i don't care about what the fight this week was about, who said what, i genuinely don't. i just care about me lying in bed, looking at my phone buzzing with texts about you and your dream of that rainbow glass necklace on the beach and me and you pspsps-ing me and telling me that you're sorry and that you love me - and i just care about how i sobbed into my pillow for a good 6 minutes before picking up the phone to text.

it's scary, loving someone so much that the notion of not losing them is enough to make you break down.

anyways, i don't want this post to be all sad. let's talk about some more sweet things this last week off the top of my head? you told me that you missed me in the mornings when i didn't spam you and that made my day so much. you told me that the reason you loved me was because of how much I cared and your voice broke and you had tears in your eyes and I wanted to kiss them away so so much. you told me that all i had to do for u to love me was exist (which, honestly, i have genuinely felt sometimes, it's so sweet 😭)

love, for me, baby, is different than love is for you. you say that you're too secure in not losing me, and i love the candidness, but i say that i love wooing you every single day, reminding you of why you love me and the fact that I love you in every single way. it's because im secure in not losing you that i can give it my all and love you with all i have.

(i have tried to tone it down thooodasa recently, but yeah. it's not going away anywhere.)

and so maybe that's why we fight, don't we? because I'm the kind of idiot who needs appreciation when i do something nice - Not because I did it to get appreciated, but just because if I don't get it, I'm going to assume ke you didn't like it, and I'll stop. Like, I'll start these elaborate gestures of love because i want to do it but I can't keep going unless I feel like you want me to do it. and then if I see ke I should stop - i won't want to stop, because fuck it, i should get to express love however much i want if I have it inside me, right? and then i erupt. i erupt and then u erupt and then we're stuck in a tangle of sadness and misunderstandings because love, for us, is so different.

i try to understand your ways, i really do. and I'm glad for every single time you've tried to understand mine. I'm so so glad for every time you've made me feel loved. and i know it seems like I'm high maintenance sometimes, but oh, I don't think so at all. I think all I am is a sucker and a whore for feeling loved, and sometimes, baby, you can do it just with the way you look at me.

i miss touching your face for no reason.

i miss your shoulder.

fuck, i miss you.

we're far from two people who'd be "destined" to be together. we have different interests, different ambitions, and different conceptions to express love.

and yet. there's no one else I'd rather spend my college life obsessing over repeatedly, and repeatedly, and repeatedly.

yours,

in trying to understand the chronicles of us in written format ahahah, and loving you harder with each passing day,

mahima

ps. i prommy aage waale will be more pyaare, less contemplative :p

pps. thank u for doing this journal thingy with me. thank u for what u wrote. thank u for giving me something I can come back and read and cry over. thank you for entertaining another of my weirdass ideas. thank you for loving me enough to make me all andar se melty about it

#- mahima

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