wowie I did an art

@shinyzango @themarginalartist

(I started this about 3 days ago, drew something else, forgot about this, and then a few days and a haircut later came across the rough sketch and finished it. And this was originally just gonna be a pencil drawing. Art processes, man…)

(Bonus doodles and art process under the cut.)

Sketch

(...plus bonus commentary)

Rough lineart! (...finished like 3 days later)

...and then the ever important question...

End decision: Ink. Started some of the “color” before I took the picture, whoops.

And the rough finished product!

“Hey LG how did you decide whether to do ink or not?”

With a bot of course. That whole “making decisions yourself” junk’s a bit overrated if you ask me. what do you mean i’m indecisive psssh naw

(If y’all want to find it, the Discord bot’s Tatsumaki. Good commands. Fun bot. Less fun when you’re making decisions for a DND style thing and your character ends up beaten up 10 ways to Sunday. Thanks Tatsu.)

opposites attract - f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor.  Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k

A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!! 

P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

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Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.

Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.

Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment. 

When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.

This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.

She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.

“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag. 

Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’. 

These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’. 

“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?” 

Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.

“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care. 

“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.” 

She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.

“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.” 

-

It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over. 

“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.” 

Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?” 

He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening. 

“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.

“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,” 

They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.

“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”

Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek. 

Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.” 

She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?” 

Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.” 

He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck. 

When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done. 

The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.

“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!” 

She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.

He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”

He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist. 

“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.

“I love you.” 

This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?” 

Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.

“I do, I love you.” 

She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide. 

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling. 

surprise (peter parker x stark!reader)

summary: you give peter a gift he would have never expected to receive from you

word count: 2.9k

warnings: angst angst angst, fluff, language

edited: sorry this is super late :(

a/n: hehe, happy bday to the cutest puppy of all! thank you to everyone who helped me come up with ideas for this fic, ily all 3000

masterlist

You and Peter have been dating for almost a year now. You both decided to get together after all the chaos that took place in Europe. You two have been friends for quite a while before that, so the fact that your friendship with Peter flourished into something even better is one of the many reasons why you adore him.

His birthday is tomorrow and you wish to make it as special as it can be. Though you’re not exactly sure how to do that. You know your dad would’ve easily bought something tremendously big and written a cheesy yet short letter with it, and Peter would love it. But if you did the same, it wouldn’t be right. Right?

The night before his birthday, you were in a spiral. You had already planned a surprise party for him at his apartment though that was the least of your worries. You were pacing around your room, unsure if the gifts you’ve been preparing for weeks was enough or if you should add more things. 

Over the years you’ve been friends with him and the months you’ve been dating him, you put together memories and experiences all in a scrapbook. It looked cute and simple on the outside, but once you opened it up, the pages were filled with photos, letters, doodles, and colors. Many references or inside jokes were scattered along the side margins and stickers were put accordingly. You made sure it was perfect, but your gift still felt incomplete to you.

You wanted to be extra. You had to be extra. You remember your mom saying it was something you got from your dad. That man was always one for his dramatics. So you stayed up a bit later than you should’ve, making tiny little paper stars with sweet compliments, affirmations, and advice in them. Then you made as many as you can to fill up a glass jar shaped like R2-D2. 

Though to you, that still wasn’t enough. So you searched and searched and eventually found some vintage Star-Wars comics. Ignoring the fact that they were over a thousand bucks, you bought a dozen or so. His gifts were spread across your bed and you stared at it for what felt like hours.

Is this enough? Is this too much? Will he love it? Will he even like it? Shit.

You remember wanting to sleep and putting it all aside to figure out in the morning. You might’ve forgotten his birthday was the next day with how much you focused on the gifts than the actual date, so you woke up with panic.

You also remembered there was one last thing you wanted to get for Peter but once you glanced at the clock, it was already noon. You overslept.

You feel your heart drop immediately realizing that you weren’t able to text or call Peter a happy birthday or good morning. You assume he must be worried, or hurt or maybe upset? You place your face in your hands and fall into deep thought. Then it hit you, the surprise party is in three hours.

“Morning Friday, read my text messages and voicemails please,” you groggily lean against your bed rest.

“Are you sure, Y/n? You have 243 text messages and 94 voicemails,” Friday informs you. 

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Uhm, actually just read the ones from Mom, Peter, Aunt May, and Happy please,” you mutter.

“Understood,” Friday responds, beginning to go through your messages and voicemails, “Mom has messaged you, “Morning honey. Had to go to some meetings. Nanny is leaving at 1, please watch Morgan. I’ll meet you at the party. Could you bring Morgan with you when you go?” Peter has not messaged or called you. Aunt May has messaged you, “Hi dear! I’ve already baked up some cherry pies for the party, when are you going to be over to decorate? By the way, Peter went out and is probably patrolling,” with a smiley face and heart. Happy has messaged you, “Hello, I already ordered the catering, and went over the invite list. Are you up yet?” and he also left the voicemail saying, “Hopefully you’re up by the time you get this. Most of the Avengers are coming, except Thor, the Saviors, no wait, the Guardians of whatever they’re called, and Captain Marvel. I’m sure you could figure out why. Give me a call when you’re up.” Done.”

“Shit,” you whine loudly. You throw yourself out of bed and get to your morning routine. You quickly tidy up your room, take a quick shower, go through your skincare routine and get dressed up. You decided to put on some makeup and wear nicer clothes for once given it’s your boyfriend’s birthday.

You look around your room and inhale deeply, “Just that one last thing,” you remind yourself and walk off. After getting what you need, the nanny informs you that she’s leaving. You walk over to Morgan’s room and knock the door before entering, “Hi princess, you ready for Spider-Man’s birthday?”

She turns around, all dressed up in a pretty floral dress, “Hi sissy, yes! Don’t you mean, your friend boy?” she giggles, running up to you.

You roll your eyes playfully, “You mean boyfriend? Yes, c’mon pretty girl. We’re going to go now.”

An hour or so later, you’re making your way over to Aunt May and Peter’s apartment with Morgan in the backseat. You felt bad for not greeting Peter at all today but you decided to make it a part of the surprise. “He still has a tracker in his suit!?” you burst out in laughter as you stop at a red light.

“Seems like Tony didn’t get rid of it before, I don’t blame him,” Happy mutters. “You got everything right? Morgan, Peter’s gifts, the decorations, and your head?”

“Yes Happy,” you glance into your back seat, checking in on Morgan and seeing the piled clutter. “I feel like Santa Clause with a bunch of gifts and an elf in the backseat,” you chuckle. Morgan gasps and makes a silly expression at you that brings a smile to your face.

“Maybe you are with all the cookies you eat,” he jokes.

“You’re one to talk, anyway where’s Peter now?” you ask as you drive off as soon as the light turns green.

“He’s swinging around, I saw the news. He’s interacting with fans and interviewers, a pretty rare case.”

“True, he must be trying to distract himself. Am I the only one who hasn’t greeted him yet?” you ask, nervously biting on your bottom lip.

“Yep.”

“Shoot, well I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Let’s hope so, I’ll see you and Morgan when you both get here. Gotta help May out with the pies.”

“Sure, the pies,” you tease, causing Happy to roll his eyes and end the call.

You feel your heart stop as Peter suddenly gives you a call. You fight the urge to pick up and shower him in reassurance and love, but ignore for the sake of the surprise. 

Ten to twenty minutes later, you and Morgan arrive at May and Peter’s apartment. You smile and knock on the door, struggling to hold everything in your arms while holding Morgan’s hand.

“Hello hello, you two,” Aunt May opens the door with a bright smile on her face. She lets you in and helps you out, “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, I overslept. I wasn’t sure if my gifts were enough,” you pout and kiss her cheek. 

“That’s okay. Morgan baby, Happy’s in the kitchen.” May smiles and ruffles Morgan’s hair. Morgan hums and hugs her leg, running off.

“These are all your gifts for him? Sweetheart, it’s his birthday not Christmas,” she giggles. “I’m sure he would love anything you get for him, even if it was a cheap lego set.”

“I know I know, it’s just Peter has been through so much. I feel like he deserves the world,” you say bashfully.

“You’re so cute,” she hums and helps you place the many gifts on a certain table. “Remember, you have been through a lot too.”

“Yes, but today’s his day,” you cross your arms. “Anyway, enough chatter. We should decorate now, everyone’s coming over in an hour right?”

“Yep. I also told Peter to swing around for a while and bring Thai food home at 4. He thinks it’s just going to be him, Happy and I. I told him you have work,” she says, grabbing some decorations.

“Okay, perfect. I feel so bad, I haven’t communicated with him since last morning,” you huff and grab some streamers.

“I’m sure he understands, kid gets busy too,” Happy walks over from the kitchen with Morgan trailing behind him. “Man, are these all your gifts for him?” he glances over at a table filled with only your gifts.

“Y-Yes? Why is that such a bad thing,” you groan.

“It’s not, I think,” he glances at May who gives him a look. He puts his hands up in defense and slowly walks back into the kitchen.

“You’re fine, honey. Also, I love your dress, isn’t that?” she tilts her head.

“Yeah, it’s the dress I was wearing on our first date,” you smile to yourself, glancing down at your cherry red dress. It fit perfectly, not too loose or tight and it had pockets. Something you and Peter were always amused by.

After the three of you finish decorating, the guests begin to arrive. Most of the team showed up and you and Peter’s close friends. You let out a sigh of relief and lean on the fire escape railing, looking out at the city. You glance at your watch, “Almost time.”

“Hey there,” you hear from behind you. You look back and see Happy.

“Hey.”

“You doing alright? Peter’s coming soon,” he says and walks next to you, leaning against the railing.

“I know, I just feel like. I did too much? Too less? I’m not sure, I just wanted this day to be perfect for him especially after last year,” you mutter and glance at Happy with teary eyes.

He smiles sadly and pulls you into a hug, “It’s absolutely perfect. You know, Peter isn’t going to be the only one who’s proud.”

“Who else? You?”

“Well, besides me and a bunch of other people. Your dad,” he murmurs.

You feel your heart tighten and you stifle a cry, stuffing your head into his chest. He sighs and hugs you close, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. Sometimes I feel like he never left, because everyday I see him in you,” he pulls away, holding your shoulder.

You smile softly and nod, “T-Thank you, Happy really,” you sniffle.

“Of course. You should probably tidy up, your makeup’s running,” he takes a step back.

You laugh half-heartedly, “Alright. Could you tell everyone to get in their places?” you begin to walk towards the apartment.

“Got it,” he nods and follows you back inside.

Your heart was racing, everyone wasn’t sure if he was going to show up at the front door or his room. Happy gives the signal that he’s arrived and everyone goes silent. You feel a slight sense of relief when you hear noises from the front door. If he came through his room, he probably wouldn't be that surprised. 

Peter sighs and holds the bag of Thai food in one hand, opening up the door with a key in the other. His senses have been all over the place today and his heart didn’t feel like it was in the right place. He was beyond worried about you, he didn’t even care that it was his birthday. He just wanted to know if you were okay.

He opens the door, calling out for May. “May, I’m home-”

“Surprise!” Everyone appears out from their spots, greeting Peter with bright smiles and confetti. 

Peter instantly jumps and places a hand over his heart. “G-Guys!? Bruce? Scott? Wait, Ned? MJ!?” he stammers, looking all over the place.

“Happy birthday, Spidey,” you come out of your hiding spot, smiling warmly at him.

“Oh my god, Y/n,” he breathes out and rushes over to you, pulling you into a hug. You let out a gasp as he picks you up and spins you around. He places you down and hugs you closer. He pulls away and glances at your dress then at you, “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. 

You blush at his comment and fiddle with your dress. “Thank you,” you smile, hoping he notices your outfit.

“Wait, isn’t this the dress from our first date?” he holds some of your dress and glances at you. You grin and nod, he sighs happily and pulls you back into a hug.

Everyone reacts sweetly until Flash, who was surprisingly invited yells out, “Get a room!” Everyone instantly glares at him and he shrivels up, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes and Peter ignores him, peppering your face with kisses. “I thought you were mad at me or something, or hurt, or just forgot about me,” he rambles, holding your face.

“Well, luckily none of those are the cases. I just wanted to surprise you,” you hum.

“You planned all this?” he gapes, glancing around his apartment once again.

“Yes, but I had a lot of help,” you hum.

“Friend boy!” Morgan squeals and rushes over, hugging you and Peter’s legs. “Happy birthday,” she beams.

Peter’s eyes soften and his bends down, “Thank you cutie,” he grins.

She squeals and hugs him, “Can you be my friend boy?”

You gasp dramatically, “Morgan, he’s my friend boy.”

“I don’t know babe, Morgan looks amazing in her little princess dress,” he picks up Morgan, holding her close.

You pout and cross your arms. Morgan bubbles happily and wraps her tiny arms around his neck.

To say Peter was overwhelmed with happiness was an understatement. He felt relief, appreciation, love and support. This whole time he was worrying that he had done something wrong when really nothing was wrong and everyone was just hiding and being quiet for his surprise.

After catching up with some of the Avengers and friends and eating dinner all together, it was time for cake and presents.

You couldn’t express how unbelievably happy and emotional you felt for Peter as he stood in front of his cake as everyone sang Happy Birthday to him. His face was filled with pure joy and you wish that could stay on his face forever, because to you, that’s what he deserves and more.

Not much later present time begins and Peter starts to open up everyone’s gifts. You told him to open yours last. You absolutely adored this boy and your heart swelled up every time he held a genuine smile to his face as he opened his gifts. He got up, thanked and hugged every single person who had got him a gift. You truly are smitten for him.

“Who are all these gifts from?” Peter asks, glancing at the huge piles of gifts left. “I thought I had opened everyone’s except Y/n’s already,” he chuckles. 

“Those are all mine,” you walk over, sitting next to him.

“Oh, flower,” he mutters softly and pouts out his bottom lip. “You didn’t-”

“Ah, please open them and shut your mouth,” you cross your arms. Everyone laughs in amusement at your sass and watches as Peter begins to open up the gifts.

Peter first opens up the comic books and jars filled with little letters, “Oh my god, you didn’t,” he whimpers happily. “This must’ve cost a fortune,” he holds up the comic books.

“What? All I did was write on little pieces of paper and-”

“Babe.”

“I know! I’m joking, on to the next please,” you coo and kiss his cheek. 

He huffs and unravels the next gift, his eyes beginning to glisten with tears. He slowly flips through the pages of the beautiful scrap book you made for him. He comes across a page where it was you, your dad and him in multiple photos. He lets tears slip form his eyes and glances at you with softened eyes, “Y/n,” he mutters.

“Larb you,” you kiss his cheek. He places the scrapbook aside and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

“I larb you more,” he sighs. 

“I thought that was our thing,” May pouts, causing everyone to chuckle at her comment.

“It can be our thing too,” Peter teases. “Is that all?” he sniffles, glancing back at you.

“One more thing,” you smile cheekily.

“Oh man,” he sighs, placing his forehead on your shoulder. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Morgan,” you look up, running your hands through Peter’s curls. She grins and grabs the last small box, bringing it to Peter.

He looks up and smiles, silently thanking her. “You want to help me open it?” he asks her. She nods and sits on his lap, helping him pull away the ribbon. As they both do so, the box falls and reveals the gift your mom once gifted your dad, then to you. Peter covers his mouth, “No, I can’t-”

“Peter,” you shake your head.

He sniffs once again, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks as he glances at the glass case with your dad’s arc reactor inside. He glances down at the words surrounding the arc reactor, “Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart,” he sobs.

You glance up seeing that your mom smiles sadly, wiping away some tears. “Happy birthday,” you repeat, kissing his cheek.

“Why are you giving this to me?” he stammers, hugging Morgan back as she hugs him close, nuzzling her head into his neck.

“Mom, Morgan and I already have many parts of dad with us. You don’t have as much and we all know how much he meant to you. You really are a part of our family too Peter, and I felt like you deserved this. Now you can see that his heart also belongs with you,” you smile warmly, cupping his cheek and wiping his tears away.

Everyone watches the heart-touching moment unravel, a sad yet understanding smile appearing on their faces. “I love you. I love all of you, and you,” he pokes Morgan’s nose, causing her to giggle.

“We love you too Peter,” everyone chimes in.

“I love you more,” you whisper, kissing his nose.

“I love you 3000,” Morgan pouts, playing with his shirt. You and Peter look at each other with sad smiles.

“I love you 3000 too.”

tagging some mutuals who might be interested! @ariistotles @cosmicholland @petersholland @tonguetiedholland @theamazingtomholland @tombrina @spideyyeet @toms-gf @peterspideysstuff @chloecreatesfictions @mcdwcman @hollandsrecs @the-salty-asian @fallinfortom @hermayone @allegra-writes @waitimcomingtoo @futuremrspcy @dreamofaprilsblog @t-lostinmendes @musicalkeys @icyhollands @beverlyparkerr​ @marvelhoesworld​

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety.  Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them.  Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read. 

 Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out. 

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?” 

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored. 

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!” 

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked. 

“...No.” 

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?” 

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?” 

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained. 

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously. 

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?” 

Virgil waited. 

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added. 

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure. 

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly. 

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.” 

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!” 

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone. 

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to. 

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop. 

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully. 

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them. 

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?” 

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.” 

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.” 

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight. 

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.” 

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”  

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped. 

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?” 

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.” 

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie. 

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.” 

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?” 

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over. 

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?” 

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.” 

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment. 

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.” 

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket. 

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?” 

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them. 

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something? 

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible. 

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it. 

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion. 

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.” 

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?” 

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.” 

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say. 

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe. 

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?” 

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.” 

“Right, right,” Virgil said. 

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked. 

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him. 

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?” 

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?” 

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.” 

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?” 

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed. 

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off. 

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face. 

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear. 

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked. 

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.” 

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. 

Logan shook his head. “No, never.” 

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness. 

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired. 

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building. 

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area. 

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway. 

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby. 

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.” 

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.” 

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?” 

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him. 

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him. 

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up. 

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.” 

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries. 

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly. 

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began. 

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise. 

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.” 

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face. 

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.” 

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding. 

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus. 

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words. 

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it. 

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly. 

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead. 

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees. 

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red. 

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.” 

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it. 

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.” 

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus. 

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.” 

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.” 

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?” 

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?” 

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed. 

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees. 

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?” 

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while. 

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!” 

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge. 

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked. 

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?” 

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page. 

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.” 

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching. 

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?” 

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.” 

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”  

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.” 

“But, like, research? Drafts?” 

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil. 

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him. 

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.” 

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.” 

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to. 

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.” 

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?” 

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking. 

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?” 

Logan perked up. “Really?” 

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it. 

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?” 

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05 

Schnee Week, Day 3: Weiss Ships

So I don’t actually have a finished fic or even a chapter to share today because until my sudden burst of creativity on Monday evening, I have been primarily focused on the next three chapters of Dishonored. (Roughly 31k words written so far across two chapters. It’s coming!) But one little thing I’ve been planning for a long time is on the back-burner and I thought I’d share an excerpt.

Way back at the end of 2019, pretty shortly after we met, @catalyswitch showed me a sketch she was working on of a Schneekos modern day AU and asked me for my thoughts. 

This is the beginning of the fic I’ve been wanting to write since then.

                                                               *

Winter drives her (and her things) to campus, but Weiss moves in on her own. There’s some kind of important meeting — lots of covert messages on a blackberry, which is a thing these kinds of people still use — and Winter can’t delay any longer. It’s not like Weiss expected anything else.

Maintaining low expectations for others and high ones for yourself are sort of the Schnee motto. It saves a lot of disappointment in life, in general.

She decorates her room just fine on her own. Minimalism is another thing she’s grown accustomed to in the mansion mom gave up on renovating in between her fourth and fifth trip to rehab. Call the abandoned projects and clutter in the attic a metaphor for something, if you’re inclined to such dramatics.

Weiss has never had any need for those kinds of abstractions or distractions.

She hangs a single picture on her wall.

Unlike the family portrait that hangs in the dining room, this is casual. While that is carefully composed and well lit, this shows Weiss and Whitley amidst of a mess of wrapping paper, faces lit up with excitement and the soft glow of the lights from their Christmas tree. Winter is in the background, distributing the gifts. Mother sips some unknown liquid from a coffee mug.

Father is nowhere to be found, and the photo was surely taken by Klein. That’s clear enough in Weiss’s smile, which is confident and unrestrained.

Her posture is straight. Her eyes are bright.

It’s as if her past self was looking right out into the future, smiling at the person she is today.

First day of orientation, and she’s ready for anything.

                                                              *

Correction: the one thing Weiss Schnee was completely unprepared for is her roommate.

The girl is a whirlwind of chaotic confusion, and so is the rest of her family. At least, Weiss has to assume this mess of (noisy) people is somehow this girl’s family. None of them look alike. The two loudest (by only a small margin) are blond with smiles as big as their biceps.

None of them have really stopped talking since they burst into the room and began hanging all kinds of things from the walls on the other side of the room.

“What—” Weiss begins, but she has no idea where the question is going.

What’s there to ask?

“Yes, hello!” the person who is probably Weiss’s roommate — but looks much too young for it — shouts from just beneath the mattress she’s managed to get stuck underneath. One of the blondes lifts it off her, and she darts back out, flailing. “Hi! I am your roommate, Ruby. If that’s what your what was.” She stands at attention, hands on her hips, as if that justifies any part of this. “I’m the what’s what, if you were wondering.”

Weiss barely has time to catch her breath. She’s not sure this even counts as caught. “… what?”

“Exactly!”

The two blondes exchange looks and both laugh, but Weiss doesn’t think it’s very funny.

“You must be Weiss,” the man who technically looks old enough to be someone’s father says, holding out his hand to shake.

The other blonde keeps her arms folder over her chest. “Weiss Schnee, wasn’t it?”

She says it in the same way that everyone says it. As in, are you one of those Schnees, as in they know her father. As in they’ve turned on the news sometime in the past eight years. Everyone knows the Schnee family name; father hasn’t exactly been under the radar.

But all she says is, “That’s right,” while shaking the man’s hand. Firmly.

Always shake firmly. Father taught all of them that.

“Your father sure has his hands in a lot of pies.”

“He doesn’t, actually.”

“Doesn’t—”

“—know the first thing about cooking.” Another early lesson: know when to make your exit. Weiss stands abruptly, her stack of books completely forgotten on the bed. “Well I,” she begins, but she’s already made a fatal error.

Because the new roommate is noticing the books. “Oh, wow, are you majoring in political science?” She’s suddenly much too close to Weiss’s personal space, though for what reason is unclear. It’s just happening, and Weiss is along for the ride. “That’s so cool! I guess it makes sense, huh, because of your dad and everything.”

There’s the elephant in the room. The very large (very republican) elephant. “I chose my major for myself, actually.” It was not an easy or a quiet conversation, and certainly not one Weiss cares to repeat to these total strangers. “As I was just going to say, I have somewhere to be.” Somewhere far away from here, that is. Literally anywhere else. “It was lovely to meet all of you,” Weiss continues, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that she has learned absolutely none of their names.

                                                              *

The first place Weiss finds to hide that she doesn’t think her roommate will find her is the coffee shop. It’s clear from her demeanor that the child — very obviously too young to be at college, so perhaps some kind of prodigy which would explain the hyper active behavior and poor socialization — is in no need of further caffeination.

Coffee shops are also a useful place to disappear. It’s easy to blend in to a crowd of people all looking closer at their cups than they are each other.

Except of course for the table of jocks nearby. Weiss has absolutely nothing in common with any of them.

Even if some of them are aesthetically appealing.

                                                              *

On day three of avoiding her room and her roommate, Weiss discovers that said roommate — her name is Ruby, a fact Weiss intends to immediately forget again — does in fact require even further caffeination.

If she cared about this particular annoyance at all, she might be concerned about the state of her heart.

As it is, she’s more concerned with her own social standing being seen in public with an infant who only stops talking long enough to consume even more coffee.

“So anyway,” Ruby gasps, practically gargling her last gulp down. “What about you, are you excited for your first day of classes?”

Since Ruby is studying something else — what that is, Weiss can’t recall, although she’s probably repeated it more than once — and will come nowhere even close to a political science course, the answer is very obviously yes. Weiss tempers her excitement, somewhat, just for the sake of kindness. 

“I’m overjoyed,” she says, almost neutrally.

“Yeah, me too.”

The jocks are there again today. They’re always there. Maybe the field they train on is nearby? Maybe they come here to study?

No, that doesn’t seem likely.

They’re all laughing (loudly) at something a boy with blue hair just said. Hopefully it was about something other than fashion decisions.

“Weiss?” Ruby says, as though she’s just repeating herself after perhaps even several attempts to get Weiss’s attention.

But all Weiss will offer in return is vague non-commitment. “Hm?”

“I was asking if you know them.” She points at the table that Weiss was very covertly staking out and Weiss slaps her hand back down. But Ruby just repeats the gesture with her other hand. “I only ask because you stare at Pyrrha a lot, and I was wondering if you wanted me to introduce you.”

“What, I do not,” Weiss answers without having any idea who Ruby’s even referring to.

At least.

Unless she means the redhead, because then yes. Weiss has been watching her off and on for the past three days, but surely so has everyone else in the cafe. They all have eyes after all.

Even if Weiss’s are currently bugging right out of her skull as Ruby jumps out of her seat. She can see what’s coming, but it’s already too late. “Pyrrha!” Ruby calls, her voice a clanging shriek.

Weiss recoils so hard from the sound that her eyes temporarily close. It’s such sweet relief safe in this darkness that she is reluctant to open them.

When she does, the redhead is there, at her table.

Her smile is confident but carefully contained. Her posture is relaxed and casual. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, with curls carefully framing her face.

“Oh,” Weiss breathes, before she can think better of it, before she can think at all. “Oh, hi.”

Years later, Weiss will wish she could remember what Pyrrha said next. But she doesn’t. She only remembers the way that smile pushed firmly into her chest, opening up an empty cavern of want that she had never known existed before.

The space inside, the empty need, felt almost limitless. It should have been awful.

But the one thing Weiss can remember from that exact moment is how much she was smiling.

lol ok so here’s a fic that I wrote quickly with barely any editing, but I felt the need to write it all out lmao. I’m not sure if this will turn into a longer thing? Maybe? We’ll see? A while-ish ago I was like hmmm....what if Eugene was never sent away and Rapunzel wasn’t kidnapped and so they met as a prince and a princess (a thought I’m sure many have had and written out) so then this kind of happened I guess. Idk what else to say? This is my first time posting using my computer lol so we’ll see what happens. It kinda just....ends so there’s that too I guess lmao- i never know how to end fics,,,or anything

Summary (aka just a snippet from the fic lol): 

"Thank you," he says, "for trusting me. And healing me.”

Rapunzel smiles. "Of course," she says, "I like to show my friends that I trust them."

Eugene smiles, too. They're both silent, staring at each other, the only light around them coming from the fire and the moon. 

Suddenly, Eugene clears his throat. 

"We should, ah… we should probably head back," he says.

•••

Rapunzel, able to sneak out of the party, heads to the garden to clear her head and just be alone.

Now that she's 18, princes from a million different kingdoms are trying to "woo" her, as her mother says.

Rapunzel does not like it. 

None of the princes are actually genuine. They're all the same with no personality and they only want to marry her because Corona is a powerhouse of the Seven Kingdoms.

She sits down on a bench outside with a groan and kicks off her awful shoes. 

"This sucks,” she says, leaning against the wall, her legs splayed out in front of her. 

"I can second that," another voice says.

Rapunzel yelps and brings her legs up to her chest. She looks for the source of the voice and sees a boy, probably around her age, on another bench not too far away.

Next to him on the bench lays a large cape and a crown on top of it- Rapunzel can only assume he's a prince.

"Sorry," the boy says. 

Rapunzel shakes her head. "No, it's okay, I just- I thought I was alone." 

The boy stands up and walks over to her. 

"Eugene," he says, holding out his hand, "well, technically that's my middle name. I'm Prince Horace from the Dark Kingdom, but Eugene is marginally better."

Rapunzel laughs and shakes his hand. “Rapunzel."

"Mind if I join you?" Eugene motions to the open space on the bench. Rapunzel shakes her head and he sits down.

"You're the Princess here, right?" he asks.

Rapunzel sighs and nods. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't."

"I get that," Eugene says. "Let me guess, you've been hounded by random princes all night and you wanted to get away and get some fresh air."

"Right on the nose." Rapunzel sighs. "Everyone is just so… boring. They have no sense of adventure or anything!"

Eugene hums. "That's what's always irked me about other princes. I've never made friends with any of them- I agree, they're all so boring."

Rapunzel eyes Eugene. "You're not just saying that to get an edge on everyone else, are you?"

Eugene's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What- oh! No, absolutely not, I promise. Listen, blondie, I'm not scrambling to get married, trust me."

Rapunzel laughs. "Blondie?" 

Eugene points to her long hair. "I mean, am I wrong?"

Rapunzel takes her hair in her hands. "No, I guess not."

She suddenly gets an idea. 

"Hey, Eugene," she says slowly, still forming the plan in her mind, "do you like riding?"

"Horses?" Rapunzel nods and Eugene shrugs. "I mean, I guess-"

"Great!" Rapunzel exclaims, standing. She grabs Eugene's hand and pulls him up.

"Woah-" he says as Rapunzel tugs him along and into a run. 

"What exactly are we doing?" Eugene asks as they run through the castle gardens. 

Rapunzel answers with a grin. "Getting away from this stuffy party."

They quickly end up at the stables, and Rapunzel opens two doors up to reveal two horses. 

"This is Fidella," she says, motioning to one of them, "and this is Max," she motions to the other one.

"Blondie, I'm all for adventures, trust me, but is it the best idea to just… leave right now?"

Rapunzel is already getting on Max when she answers. "Why not?"

"I mean- well-" Eugene fumbles for words. "For starters, we did just meet."

Rapunzel shrugs. "That's how all friendships start."

Eugene can't help the smile that slowly forms on his face. God, he thinks he likes this girl.

"Now get on!" Rapunzel says, motioning towards Fidella.

Laughing, Eugene does so.

•

They ride all the way out to the woods near Old Corona, joking with each other and racing all the way. 

They stop near a river, letting the horses rest. 

Eugene easily makes a small fire, and the two sit by it, talking about anything and everything.

"I always dreamed of being like Flynn Rider from the books," Eugene says.

He climbs the rocks right by them, acting out one of the stories. Rapunzel watches, laughing along.

"The idea of just being out in the world, free to do whatever… it sounds amazing," he continues. 

Rapunzel hums. "I've read some of those stories," she says. "The adventures sound wonderful. I don't want to just stay in Corona forever… I want to go places- see new things!"

"You’ve never left Corona?"

"Only briefly in order to visit other Kingdoms, but it's not the same. I want to explore, but my father is fairly strict when it comes to that. He's a little overprotective."

Eugene sits down on top of the rocks. "Really?"

Rapunzel nods. "Mmhm…" She pauses. "I guess I understand it to a certain degree. I-"

She's unsure if she should continue. She's only ever told this story to one other person, Cassandra, but she likes Eugene. She thinks she can trust him.

"I was almost kidnapped as a baby," she says. "If it weren't for the Captain of the Guards being extremely quick, I would've been."

"Oh," Eugene says quietly. He stands up and moves to get off the rock. "I-" is all he's able to say before he slips, shouting as he falls.

"Eugene!" Rapunzel exclaims, standing up. She quickly moves to where he lays on the ground.

"I'm fine," Eugene says from his position on his back. He starts to prop himself up on his hands and arms, but hisses in pain as one of his hands makes contact with the ground.

"Oh, here," Rapunzel says, helping him sit up. 

"I'm alright, really, just scratched my hand." Eugene turns his palm up to look at the scratch. He grimaces. "It probably just looks worse than it is."

"I can help," Rapunzel says.

"Rapunzel, really, it's okay-" he stops, confused, when she starts to wrap her hair around his hand. "What…"

"Just… trust me," Rapunzel says, "and don't freak out. Please. Promise me you won't freak out."

"I- okay."

Eugene watches as Rapunzel starts to sing, his eyes going wide when her hair starts to glow. 

Rapunzel finishes her song and lets out a breath. Her hair stops glowing, turning back into the regular blonde shade it usually is.

"What the h-"

Rapunzel cuts him off. "You promised not to freak out," she says as she starts to unwrap her hair from his hand.

"That was before I knew your hair glowed!"

"It doesn't just… glow."

Rapunzel finishes unwrapping Eugene's hand, but takes it in her own before Eugene can see it.

"Seriously, don't freak out," she says, letting go of his hand.

Eugene, extremely confused, brings his hand back to his chest and looks at it. He sees that the cut is completely gone. 

He opens his mouth-

"Don't freak out!" Rapunzel repeats, putting her hands up.

"I-" Eugene clears his throat, "I'm not freaking out, who's freaking out? Not me, that's for sure." He laughs awkwardly. 

"That's why my father is overprotective," Rapunzel says, looking down. "The woman who tried to take me wanted me for my magic. Who knows how many other people do. You're really the first to know who's not my family. Well, besides Cass, but she’s my best friend and lady-in-waiting."

Eugene takes Rapunzel's hands in his own, causing her to look up at him.

"Thank you," he says, "for trusting me. And healing me."

Rapunzel smiles. "Of course," she says, "I like to show my friends that I trust them."

Eugene smiles, too. They're both silent, staring at each other, the only light around them coming from the fire and the moon. 

Suddenly, Eugene clears his throat. 

"We should, ah… we should probably head back," he says. "The party should be winding down… we don't want anyone to worry."

Rapunzel nods, not excited about the evening ending, but understanding. 

•

They ride back to the castle, getting the horses back into the stables and stopping by the garden to pick up the things they left. 

"Your crown is very pointy," Rapunzel says, poking one of the spikes on Eugene's crown as they walk back to the ballroom.

Eugene laughs. "Yes, it has to do with whatever rocks we have in the Dark Kingdom. It's some kind of ancient magic, but my father won't tell me anything about it yet.”

Rapunzel hums. "Interesting. We'll have to trade stories about the magic from each of our Kingdoms at some point. Maybe they're connected somehow."

Eugene shrugs. "Maybe. All I know is that there's something called the Moonstone."

"Moonstone…" Rapunzel says, thinking. "Funny, my magic comes from the Sundrop." 

That's where that conversation ends as they walk back into the ballroom and are immediately met with Rapunzel's father.

"Rapunzel, there you are, thank goodness," he says, taking her hands into his. "We've been looking for you."

"Sorry, dad," Rapunzel says, "I was getting to know my new friend!" She motions towards Eugene.

Eugene bows. "Your Majesty," he says. 

"This is Eugene from the Dark Kingdom," Rapunzel explains. 

"Hello Eugene," Frederic says, nodding towards the boy. He turns back to Rapunzel. "We must say goodbye to everyone and thank them for coming. You can say goodbye to your friend but then please find your mother and I."

Rapunzel nods and her father walks away. 

"We have to stay in touch," Rapunzel says, turning to Eugene. 

Eugene smiles. "I'd like that." He suddenly finds himself in a hug from Rapunzel.

Surprised at first, he gladly returns the hug after a few seconds.

It ends sooner than Eugene would like to admit he wants it to, but when Rapunzel moves back, she keeps his hands in her own. 

"Hopefully I can come visit your Kingdom," she says, "until then, I'll be sure to send you letters."

"And I'll be sure to write back."

Rapunzel squeezes Eugene's hands, smiling, before walking back into the crowd to find her parents.

Eugene watches her go, a smile on his face as he thinks about this new and wonderful friendship.

BEATRIX MORTEL ♡ THE EMPATH. 

(AMANDA CAMPANA, TWENTY TWO, DEMI WOMAN, SHE / HER ) ⮕ Hey, isn’t that [ BEATRIX MORTEL ]? I heard that they were a part of the crew. According to the wiki it says they’re the [ EMPATH ] of the group. Avid fans say that they’re [ INTUITIVE ], but that they can also be [ HEDONISTIC ]. Maybe that’s because they’re a [ PISCES ]. This gossip forum says they joined the group because of [ HER INTUITION PULLING HER TOWARDS THE GROUP ]. I wonder if that’s true. I also heard they [ DO NOT ] believe in ghosts. I wonder if their time in arcane inc will change that. ( pepper, twenty four, est.)

ABOUT THE MUN.  ooh, yuh, get it i guess !

hi, hey, hello everyone my name is pepper and i am very much writing this on three am christmas morning.... oof. but i wanted to pop by and semi quickly introduce my babey before knocking out so!! here we are!! but before we get into her, a bit about me to break the ice! my alias is inspired by the iconic duo salt and pepper and their classic song push it. i am an english major who learned how to spell passivist the other day, yes we exist. i am late to literally everything so me just showing up now,,, can we say on brand?? i am a hoe for pinterest and after i finish this intro i will probably start on bex’s pinterest board! i have never played the sims, rip, i am a hoe for pretty much all reality shows (my faves are bachelor, love island, and the cheesy netflix ones atm) and i am actually a huge scaredy cat! the last horror movie i watched was ready or not which i actually realy enjoyed but i have maybe watched? ten horror movies in my entire twenty four years of life. wild, i know. oh and i use she / her pronouns for anyone wondering! okay, now that that’s out the way, 

BIO.  being intuitive is just like... i don’t like this and no i will not elaborate

bex is actually a new muse and since she’s new to the group i still want her to have a bit of an air of mystery about her so i will not be elaborating too, too much on her backstory but 

actually a twin! i’d like to put in a wanted connection for her twin at some point because i think it’d be fun if they were both involved in the group but yeah, bex is half of a set. if you are interested in the connection hmu < 3

her and her sibling didn’t want for much at all growing up. their parents were pretty well off and so it wasn’t as if they were struggling. the worst thing about their childhood was that they often moved from city to city to support her father’s job. her dad was an author of supernatural and horror books and so he tended to go wherever the inspiration struck. so bex basically grew up in creepy houses and such! whenever her dad solved the mystery of one place nd finished his novel they would move. 

around the time that bex was six they lived in a very specific house. and when they moved from it bex found herself with this power. she is able to feel what people are feeling when she touches them or feel what someone else was feeling when she touches something that they’ve touched. think theo crain from hill house basically. it wasn’t something she was born with though, and since bex was already a pretty cheerful child with a pretty active imagination her mother tried to talk her out of the whole thing. 

bex’s mother was a child psychologist and it was with her help that bex learned that anything she thought she was feeling or seeing was just in her imagination. she was just really empathetic. and sometimes she found herself with imaginary friends. and maybe sometimes she had strange dreams, but this was all very normal. 

bex didn’t really have any choice but to believe her mom as a child. so for years she just ??? went with her powers unchecked, over stimulated and confused and scared. she didn’t deal with it well. and her parents didn’t understand. 

her dad found it fascinating though. wrote a whole book about her. it quickly became a best seller, and bex, his inspiration, pretty quickly became a bit of a celebrity in the horror novelist community. even bex, who absolutely loved attention, hated the whole thing. but she was too young for anyone to listen to her. 

suffice to say, the moment that bex turned eighteen she dipped. specifically she left to go to university. she studied up and got a bachelors degree in architecture. she is planning to get her masters next because she’s really passionate about her field, but well she stumbled into arcane first. 

it was completely by accident honestly. one day she was just living her life as normally as her life tended to get. and the next moment she saw one of their videos. and it was like everything clicked into place at once. she tried to ignore it, she really did, but it wasn’t long until she was seeing them everywhere. until she found herself drawing the arcane inc logo absently in the margins of her notes, or dreaming about the group at night, or mumbling lines of their show to herself when she was meant to be distractedly humming. it was weird, like really weird, and again bex would have brushed it off as nothing, but i imagine that at some point she actually saw them irl. maybe they reached out to her due to one of her father’s novels and bex likely having lived in that house before, or maybe she stumbled upon them completely coincidentally, but bex might not believe in ghosts but she sure believes in the universe. and who is she to say no to what the universe so obviously wants? details tbd sdkjsd

so here she is! having a good time in her gap year between uni and grad school. i’d say she’s been here since?? june of this year and she’s still going strong. she is still a bit skeptical about some things but she’s having a good time anyways. 

HEADCANNONS.  are my prophetic visions a joke to you

is she a mix of all the characters in hill house,,, maybe so 

for someone so smart bex is also dumb. she still thinks that for the most part she’s really empathetic, like yeah she can touch something and tell you how the last person who touched that thing felt but * bex vc * is it really that big of a deal? i mean it’s basically a party trick dkldsklds honestly bex’s mother just really got into her head a child, but she is prety sensitive to things like touch. tends to get cold really easily in places with spiritual energy so catch her wrapped up like nothing else (tends to always have her sweater over her hands in those places). the type to stick to you like glue and touch you like crazy when you’re in a good mood and keep a good distance away from you when you’re in a bad one. she’s pretty good at comforting and cheering people up, but she will not touch you when you are in a bad mood for the most part cause she doesn’t want those vibes?? gets super caught up in other people’s emotions sometimes, and her own and they all tend to blend together. like if you have a crush on someone and you’re in your feels about it and bex touches you she’s like damn do i have a crush on them? do i have a crush on you? are we about to KISS right now? and she will kiss you then tbh she’s big dumb sometimes smh. this is how she gets herself into trouble. 

in love with love and falls in love often and deeply. like she feeds off her partners emotions a lot too so bex is an a plus girlfriend tbh. things never work out though as bex’s partners usually think things are too intense or bex like feels the slightest inkling that they might want to break up with her and dumps them before they can get the chance, rip 

inspired by this tiktok tbh!

bex is also a diver and has been since she was young, and this is inspired by this tiktok

bisexual!

very fun and easy to get along with honestly. almost always has good vibes. if bex is sad she will simply find someone in a good mood and cling to them for a bit. very hot and cold tbh, like she does not explain why she avoided you a bit for a few days and suddenly wants to hold your hands like rip to the crew sdkjsdk

will respond to any nickname! i put trixie on the app but bex, trixie, bee, beck, trick, bea, and any other nickname will be accepted. bex loves nicknames cause they make her feel closer to people so if your muse wants to give her a nickname,,,, please do 🥺

will do anything to make herself feel good. all feelings are overwhelming for her, especially when she has to take other people’s feelings into account too so she tends to try and enjoy herself at all costs and she is a big fan of the little things. sleeping in, sex, dr*gs, drinking, like blowing bubbles, food, anything that is fun and makes you feel good, bex is into and will do over anything serious any day. 

an extrovert. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS. i can’t talk right now, i’m doing hot girl shit. * summons a malevolent demon *

an ex on bad terms, her twin, an fwb, an ewb, a close friend in the group, someone she has a crush on maybe or vice versa, someone who’s good vibes bex is constantly seeking out, someone who hates her omg, a smoking buddy, someone she formed an instant bond with, a sibling like relationship, a childhood friend she’s reunited with, a fan of her father’s novels, a confidante, someone who makes her feel safe when things get to be a bit too much for her, someone she regularly cheers up, someone bex hates? 

Dear (people listed below)

@miss-mary-grace

You pretended to be my friend just so that you could “sleep your way to the top”. You’re only friends with that certain group now because of me. I never got any thanks, except just some “I know what I’m saying will hurt your feelings” Well, bitch, if you KNOW, then that just shows your colors. Again, you KNEW--you said YOU KNEW--, yet you still did it because YOU KNEW. You didn’t stab me in the back. You stabbed me in the front while you were smiling and pretending to be the “innocent soul” that you have everyone believing you are.

I was Miru’s sister first, by the way. We even endearingly called each other “hermana” just as such. So, sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, you weren’t her first “sister”. 

If I could go back in time, I would refrain from commenting on your poor excuse for art—talking about how “cute it is”—, and completely disregard you as a person, much less an artist. You only advanced and grew as an artist BECAUE OF ME. And I, unfortunately, got to see you true colors when you decided to indirectly admit that you were using me. 

Now, I’m used to people pretending to be my friend. But this was the first time someone had done so just so that they can get to where they are in life now.

So, just remember... You’re only Nova’s “little sister” because of me. You’re only friends with all of them because of me. You’re only where you are now because of me.

~~~

@zorakschicken / @zoraksrambles

Fuck you.

During the entire year where you had family member after family member (and your dog) die, I would drop messages here and there checking in on you. I didn’t bother you with messages every single day, like I’m sure you like to think (because “Big Bad Saki/Kura” is constantly and daily harassing people, apparently -__- ). Yeah, I vented to you now and then, but, compared to the times where I sent messages of support to you... those spurts of venting were SMALL in comparison. But, obviously, me venting was just oh so much more outrageous than the supportive messages that heavily outweighed everything.

“I won’t block you. I just think we need to take a break.” That was what you said before we agreed to take a break. And what happened? YOU FUCKING LIED! You blocked me on every single social media outlet that we share. Now, I don’t have a problem with being blocked--I could honestly care less if I got blocked--; what I’m pissed about is that you LIED ABOUT IT. Now, I blocked you first, because, for half a month after our agreement to “take a break”, you would snoop around on my dA (I track IPs, and have your name listed as such every time you pop by, so I know it’s you). It was really creepy and sus af, so I very briefly blocked you because “if you want to take a break from being friends, why tf are you snooping around...? >A>;;” So, you could back off. And then what? You block me for no reason? I didn’t fucking snoop around on you, like you did to me. WTF, dude...

And another thing that always bugged me... you Commissioning Nova. yeah, she’s your friend--but SO WAS I (at the time, at least). And you even mentioned to me how interested you were in my commissions, which were marginally cheaper than hers. So, for someone going through “financial issues”, you certainly are a hypocrite. Not to mention... it shows who you really saw as a “friend”, and our friendship meant nothing.

“Saki is always so negative. I can’t handle such negativity. It’s toxic.” You have an entire blog dedicated to hating some version of a series. What’s your excuse? Nothing but a double standard, if you ask me. Imagine being so high on your horse that you dedicate your time to something that upsets you. (That’s not me being hypocritical. That’s me saying “Hey kettle. You’re black just like me.”

You have schizophrenia. So what? I have Borderline Personality Disorder, but you don’t seeing me play that card as an excuse for my fucking behavior. I never have used any mental illness to excuse my behavior, which, let’s be real here--I’m fully aware of my negative track record, but not once did I play the “mental illness” card. I’ll use it to explain my behavior, yes, and emphasize that that’s the main reason why I’m Public Enemy Number 1 in the FMA Fandom and the reason why everyone left. But, I don’t use my mental illness like some “Get Out of Jail Free Card”, or to make people pity me or anything.

You may think that me making this call out post is the worst thing I could have done to you, but I could have done much worse. Remember: We shared phone numbers. I promptly deleted yours after we agreed to “take a break”, because I’m not that type of person to do shady shit with people’s personal information, unless it’s 100% necessary. 

At the end of the day all I can say is this: Fuck you, you lying ass two-faced piece of shit.

~~~

@novanoah & @mari-m-rose 

Despite what you may think... I do have screenshots. Or, “Proofs” as you like to call them (because “proofs” is totally a word, and not the incorrect use of “proof”... -_- ). The most recent screenshot is of Nova in 2017 committing libel against my friend with a one-sided no-”proofs”-used-to-back-up-her-claim post on Tumblr just to use her mob mentality and further show that she’s the type to use her popularity against people who are smaller than her. (Those “proofs” I have, by the way, and can show how full of shit she is).

And, it still disgusts me to this day that you are “happy” that I was told to kill myself. Are you kidding me? And here I thought I was the one that was fucked up in the head, and all I’ve ever done to all of you was stupid petty shit. To be “happy” that a person you don’t like is told (by numerous people) to kill themselves though...? What the hell is wrong with you? In that case, I’m sure you were crossing your fingers and praying for my death when I was diagnosed with cancer--only to have your little celebration party canceled when it wasn’t a severe type. But, I’m sure you got all ecstatic afterwards when the YouTube Ranters went out of their way to find my mailing address for the sole purpose of “Making [me] so stressed out that [my] cancer comes back and kills [me].” By your logic, you should be in absolute euphoria from that -__-

Sorry to disappoint you all, but the harassing, petty, little twat that bothered you all and gave you a hard time for a decade to the point she made you all (and every other single person) leave the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom is, unfortunately, hard to get rid of.

Speaking of Nova committing libel... let me just say that your little fanbrat Retreat coming after me last year wasn’t unnoticed. I knew it was sketchy af the moment they first appeared—it was no different than Cheery’s fanbrats Vixx_Der coming after me on Twitter for no reason and completely out of the blue just a month prior. So... Nice try at attempting to “give [me] a taste of my own medicine”. Committing borderline Tortious Interference... yeah, okay. That’s totally not something I could sue for. If not--defamation (which, had I known was a suable offense at the time, I would have totally done against Mayou back in 2016). 

And, like I mentioned in Mary’s little snippet up above... she’s only your friend and “little sister” because of me, so you’re fucking welcome. And, if it turns out that she’s using you the way she used me... I will laugh my ass off.

Above all else, and most importantly, my view of you both and the rest of the FMA OC Matriach is, has been, and always will be the same. I made a vow to “knock [you all] off your throne(s).” And I still plan to keep that promise. Because people like you shouldn’t be using that “I have a big number of subscribers/followers/watchers on my page, which makes me better than you~” mentality like you all have been. You’re all--every single one of you--are nothing more than HUMAN BEINGS. You’re not better than anyone one else, and you never will be. Guess what, snowflakes? Outside of your little cyberspace “safe place”, you have no power. Stop acting like you’re better than everyone else, especially to KIDS who are HALF YOUR AGE, and you think it’s right to make some stupid tumblr post (that has no evidence backing up your claim, and can be considered defamation, if not libel) painting that CHILD as an “evil person” and to order everyone to block them just because they said something you didn’t like. “I respect people who have different opinions than me” is the most obvious lie you have ever told. You’re nearly 30-years-old. Act like it and grow up. Stop bullying kids by abusing your power. You’re a HUMAN, just like the rest of us.

~~~

@mayounnaise / @sharkynnaise

Don’t know if you have a tumblr on here or not, but I couldn’t care less at this point. Let me go on the record of saying this:

Commit defamation against me one more time. Commit Tortious Interference like you did with (commissioner, who I won’t mention) again one more time. I dare you.

I WILL sue your ass, knowing what I do now--that what you did is a suable offense.

~~~

@miru-p 

I could say some pretty fucked up things right now, but I’m not that terrible of a person. I mean, I am a terrible person, but I’m not terrible enough to say fucked up things like: “Your family member deserved to live, and both of your positions should have been swapped over the holidays during that time. I’m sure your family member was a much better person than you.”

So, I’ll just simply say this: Vete a tomar por culo.

~~~

@hitantenshi

You are one of the most hopelessly optimistic people I know. The fact that you believe that people can change for the better is just absolutely sad. I mean, hello, have you seen my track record? I’m the bright and shining example and living embodiment of the reason why people don’t change. No matter how badly they want to. And if it’s because of a mental disorder, well, it sucks, because that diagnosis came too late and the damage was already done.

So, you’re all going to have to deal with this monster while I’m still around.

~~~

And to make it clear to every other single person reading this:

I’m not excusing what I did in the past, nor am I trying to make any excuses. I’m fully aware of the things that I did. However, that doesn’t mean that fakers should get some “get out of jail free card” and get away with it just because “they’re popular” or “friends with popular people”.

I’m fully aware of what I am. And, I’m fully aware that I’m hated because I’m a narcissistic, selfish, heartless, backstabbing, toxic, indifferent annoyance, harassing, ungrateful, apathetic, hurtful, manipulative, bullying, dramatic, sensitive, arrogant, petty, spiteful, over dramatic, drama whore, lying, shady, sociopathic bitch.

I’d constantly tell myself and others that “I’m changing” or “I’ve changed”, when really... I was just lying to them—and to myself—to make myself feel better. Always running away from some imaginary monster, and trying to be the perfect innocent souls that could do no harm. For a long time, I had actually believed that; fooling myself as much as I did everyone else.

Just want to make that perfectly clear. I’m not making excuses or using my mental disorder as an excuse or whatever. I just feel like I have to keep repeating myself all the time when it comes to stuff like this -__- (especially when people tell me otherwise).

Meetings : Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N: WOW I AM HOT GARBAGE. I am so sorry, that was the longest hiatus ever. But I’m back! Hope you all enjoy my crappy writing.

Meetings are the absolute worst things ever. Sitting around a long table, listening to one person talk and point at a powerpoint slide for 15 minutes at a time was not the most entertaining thing ever. You work for a graphic design firm, so you have some creative outlet during the day, but all the logistics stuff just bores you out of your mind. You’ve become so bored with the presentation that you’ve started to doodle in your notebook. It’s just little flowers and smiley faces and Spencer’s name in cute little fonts all across the margins.

Spencer has been the only thing on your mind the entire meeting. You two have a date tonight and you just can’t wait to have a night alone together. As you’re stuck in your little daydream, your boss calls for a break. You bolt out of the stuffy conference room to the outside of the building, calling Spencer as you make your way through the set of glass doors.

“Hello?” Spencer’s voice fills your ears, making your heart rate pick up a little bit.

“Hey, it’s me,” you say as you lean up against the brick wall behind you. 

“Oh, hey, how’s the meeting?” He asks. He remembered you complaining about it last night.

“I want to stab everyone in there,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Work is work and you’re grateful for your job letting you have some creative ideas, but there were days when you just wanted to leave it all and run away with Spencer. 

“Well, just don’t get blood on your dress, we have dinner reservations at 7 tonight,” he laughs. You can hear papers shuffling around in the background and you can tell he’s working on a case.

“You know, I love you for enabling me,” you smile as you check your watch, the break is almost over. 

“I love you too,” he chuckles. “I assume your break is almost done so I’ll let you go.”

“You are magical Dr. Reid. I love you and I’ll call you later,” you say goodbye and rush back upstairs to your meeting. 

The meeting runs long and you’re late for your date with Spencer. You check your watch once again and continue bouncing your leg up and down, glancing at the door every couple of seconds. Your boss finally calls the meeting and you gather your things and attempt to run out the door as fast as you can but you can hear your name being called from behind you. Your steps slow and you sigh before turning around with a large smile on your face.

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” You ask, gripping your laptop and papers to your chest even tighter as time goes on.

“(Y/N), I need you to do something for me. You are going to be the new head of the magazine product ad. I need it by noon tomorrow.” He says, turning off his laptop and turning to face you.

Your eyes go wide. This was a huge opportunity since the last head of the team was fired, but it was almost impossible to get it done in one night. “Sir, I’m honored, but-”

“Wonderful, I’ll expect it on my desk by tomorrow. Have a good night, (Y/N).” He leaves the conference room and closes the door behind him.

You set your things down, feeling incredibly awful about having to give Spencer a raincheck on your date that you’ve been planning for weeks. You check your phone and you have several missed texts and two missed calls from Spencer. 

“Shit.” You call Spencer back and he picks up immediately. 

“Hey, is everything okay? You didn’t tell me you were going to be late. Did something happen at work? Do you need me to come and get you?” It was question after question until you finally cut him off.

“Spencer! I’m fine, everything’s fine,” you sigh. “My boss just assigned me a huge project that he wants by tomorrow, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You could feel the disappointment through the phone. “I guess we’ll raincheck again.”

“I’m sorry, Spence. I promise we’ll do something soon.” You say. “I need to get started on this project, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay, I love you,” Spencer huffs. 

“I love you too,” you hang up and open your laptop to start up some music. It was going to be a long night.

Not even an hour later, your head is repeatedly hitting the desk every few seconds. It was like your brain had died and you were trying to jumpstart it again. You grabbed the bag of chips next to you before putting it down again, it was just something to do besides work on this project. You groan and throw your head back as you rub your eyes. Your phone rings and you groan again. Who could be calling you this late?

Spencer.

“Hey, what’s up?” You swivel side to side in the conference chairs, staring at the ceiling.

“Are you still working on the project?” He asks. You can hear a car door close so you assume that he ate alone and just got home. 

It was as if you haven’t even started. Ideas were scrapped over and over again. You would start, then start over because you weren’t happy with where it was going. It was frustrating. “Yeah, it’s going.”

“Have you eaten yet?” You hear an elevator ding in the background.

“Does a bag of chips count as a dinner?” You chuckle, pushing the bag around the conference table.

You can hear Spencer roll his eyes and smile. “No, it doesn’t. Lucky for you, I have real food.”

“Thanks, Spence, you can just put it in your fridge and I’ll grab it whenever I’m done.”

“No, I mean like right now. I’m outside your temporary office. Please let me in, it’s cold out here.” He laughs lightheartedly.

“Spence,” you stand up and open up the conference room door to Spencer holding a bag of Chinese food. You hang up the phone and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him lightly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes I did, because I know you. You were going to work until you got the project done and you weren’t going to eat at all.” He says matter-of-factly. He knows you way too well.

“Well, you got me there.” You usher him in and he takes a seat across from you. He takes out little battery-operated candles and sets them in between you two. You laugh at the cheesy gesture and Spencer pulls out a rose and puts it in a mug that he grabbed off your desk and filled with water. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you, Spence.”

“Of course,” he hands you your usual order and moves your laptop out of the way of everything. “Now, eat.”

Cordonian Nights

So on my old blog I posted a teaser for this, since then I have totally reworked the story and I’m happier with this direction so I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

Non-Royal TRR AU

Summary: Leo Rhys and his brother Liam always dreamed of owning their own bar, but when a high end nightclub opens up close by their dreams begin to unravel. (guys I seriously suck at summaries!)

Disclaimer: I dont own these guys,PB does, I just made up their girls :)

As always, If youd like to be added or removed from tags, just let me know!

Tags: @fullbeaumonty @leelee10898 @cocomaxley @hopefulmoonobject @katurrade @blackwidow2721 @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @ao719 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @brightpinkpeppercorn @choiceslife

        Ember wiped a rag across the bar before hopping up onto it. She'd been working at The Seven Deadly Sins for two years now, and she'd come to think of it as home, her coworkers like family.

       Of course they'd always been like family though, most of the staff having grown up together in Applewood before making the move to Ramsford together so that Leo and Liam could open the bar.

      "So how'd we do with tips?" She asked Allison who was still counting the contents of the jar.

       "Looks like not very good. Enigma opening up down the street has really put a dent in our cash flow." the woman frowned smoothing a stack of bills.

      "And our profit margins. Lemme get a glass of red wine guys." Blair, the bar's book keeper said coming in from the back room.

       Ember gingerly pour a glass and handed it to her and Blair swirled it a moment before she took a sip.

      "This tastes like shit." she frowned. "What is this?"

      "It’s called Vendange. Its cheap. Liam ordered this instead of our usual to cut costs. I tried to tell him it was a mistake, and now we have a whole case of that crap." Allison scoffed gesturing at Blair's glass.

      "The wine is fine, I just won't order it again." Liam said entering the room, shaking his head.

      "Liam I understand the need to cut costs, but we can't sell this shit. We can't skimp on quality." Blair told him and he rolled his eyes in response.

       “Alright, Blair. Noted. Now the guys are just about done cleaning up the back. Leo was thinking that it may be time to head over to the Enigma and see what all the fuss is about. Or as Maxwell put it 'market research.' Sky said she's game. Drake's gonna call Whitney. What about you three?"        "Sure, I'll need to swing by the apartment and change, but yeah." Ember agreed quirking  an eyebrow at Allison whom nodded. Blair peered into her wine glass before sliding it across the bar.       "Absolutely. I'm sure they have real wine there."

   The friends met up inside Enigma, Whitney and Drake had arrived first and saved a table. They made plans to split up and check out everything that the new nightclub had to offer and regroup later.

    The music thrummed throughout the building, bouncing off of the neon back-lit floor tiles. A laser light show flashed on. The combination of bass and lights made Ember a little dizzy, but the DJ was good and she could tell why the new club had become immediately popular.     She sat in their booth sipping her rum and coke through a straw. Beside her Blair and her boyfriend Ollie were cuddled up having a conversation in each other's ears when suddenly he smacked Ember's arm with the back of his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.     "You think they'll ever stop denying that they were made for each other?" he shouted over the music, his thick English accent dripping from every syllable. Ember's eyes traveled in the direction Ollie had pointed to find Sky grinding all over Liam on the dance floor.     She couldn't help but chuckle. Liam and Sky had been "friends with benefits" for two years now, but everyone could tell they both wanted more out of the arrangement.     "Probably not..." Ember answered her face falling as something else caught her eye.     "What? Em what is it?" he asked noticing how abruptly her laughter had ended.      Blair tried to find what their friend was looking at. Finally she saw it: Maxwell, just on the other side of the dance floor, arms waving wildly as he spoke. He was with two girls, both appeared barely old enough to even gain entrance to this establishment, one blonde the other a curly brunette. Both scantily clad, both giggling all over each other as Maxwell continued to impress them.     "Honey, I'm sorry." Blair offered placing a comforting hand on Ember's arm.      "Its whatever. I broke up with him right?" she said shaking her head, turning from the scene.  "Where are Allison and Leo?"     "They were at the bar a few moments ago with Whitney and Drake."Ollie said jerking his head in that direction.      "Oh..." Ember stabbed at her ice cubes with her straw awkwardly.       "I'm uh...I'm gonna...I have to take a leak." Ollie fumbled for words sensing the ladies needed a moment alone. Blair mouthed the words 'thank you.' before kissing her boyfriend on the cheek.       "Honey, are you ever gonna tell anyone what happened?  I don't wanna pry, but its been   6 months. You can't keep on pretending that you and Maxwell didn't happen. I know it must be hard to still see him all the time."     "What's there to tell, B? We broke up. Sometimes things just.."     "Don't work out. I know. That's what you keep saying, but honey I know there's more to it than that. One day you guys were shopping for engagement rings and literally two days later you were kicking him outta the house."      Ember's eyes darted around desperate to change the subject. She noticed that the blonde girl and Maxwell were missing now, the curly haired brunette alone at the table surveying the dance floor for another prospect. Her stomach turned.     "I'm gonna be sick, B. I've gotta go."

   She made her way towards the ladies room, pushing inside she noticed the largest stall at the end was the only door not latched though it was pushed too.     "Hello?" she asked pushing open the door. "Maxwell?! What're you doing in the ladies room?"     Maxwell stood over the blonde girl from earlier. She was slumped over the toilet groaning.     "Ember thank God! What the fuck am I supposed to do? One minute we were making out the next..."      The blonde girl heaved, the sound of vomit hitting water echoed through the room and Maxwell shuddered. "I...Emmy you know I can't do this. Help!"

       Ember looked at Maxwell, his impossibly blue eyes pleading with her, and she drew in a deep breath. Exhaling loudly she said, “ What's her name?”

    “What? Julie I think. Why does that matter?”

    “You don't even know her name?! Christ Max!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, you need to get outta here before someone catches you. I've got her for now, but go find her friend.”

    “Right. Thanks Emmy! I knew you'd know what to do.”

     She knelt beside the girl, watching to ensure her head didn't fall in the toilet. Her eyes fluttered open.

      “Who the fuck are you?” She slurred.

     “Not  important, I'm just hanging out until your friend gets back.”  Ember peered around the stall door.

     Once again she'd fallen for those stupid blue eyes and Maxwell had talked her into something ridiculous. She was so angry at herself, she barely noticed when Julie- or whoever she was- hurled yet again.

           Maxwell finally returned with brunette friend ushering her into the quickly cramping stall.

     “Thanks Emmy.” He said pulling Ember into a tight hug. Her body stiffened up, but he didn't seem to notice as he squeezed her tighter.

     Just then the bouncer pushed open the door. “I knew I saw a dude come in here.” He grabbed Maxwell by the back of his collar jerking him away from Ember. The broad man surveyed the scene, which to any outsider almost assuredly appeared as if Max had done something very wrong.

       “What the hell is going on in here? You're outta here, Bub!” The man bellowed yanking Maxwell out, his drunken protests being ignored.

     Again Ember pinched the bridge of her nose.

      ‘Time to round Everyone up.’ she thought.

     The stall door closest to the exit clicked open and out stumbled Allison. “Em, is the coast clear?”

    Her disheveled appearance told Ember all she needed to know about what Allie had been up to.

     “Yes, Leo can come out. But we need to get everyone else and get the fuck outta here.”

for him.

Summary: In which Dan paints smiles and studies English at a dead end. His muse takes the from of Phil Lester, a film student at his university, but paint doesn’t last forever and not everyone is who we make them out to be.

A/N: I had said awhile back that I wasn’t going to continue this story for a couple of different reasons, but I’ve been wanting to get back into writing and I thought it would be a nice reintroduction. Given that this is over two years late I’m not even sure if anyone still cares haha, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!

tw; depression, alcohol, suicidal thoughts

Masterpost

Part Two

   The paper sits on top of his laptop, crumpled and severely tea stained. The impending due date is written across the top in black sharpie: June 11.  For the most part creative writing is the only class that doesn’t make him want to rip his hair out, but he’s not convinced that his teacher isn’t a sadist.

  Purple writing stains the back of his hand, the biro ink smudging and dripping onto the paper below him.

   we live in the broken fragments of a dying universe.

  His phone releases a chiming sound, the vibrations making a rattling noise against the surface of his desk. Dan grabs it, desperate for anything to take his mind off of the depressing reality that he might very well fail his course. He wonders what he’d do with the rest of his life if something related to english doesn’t work out. Nothing maybe.

  The text is from Phil, perhaps unsurprisingly. they say only boring people are bored. with that reasoning i must be duller than 50 shades.

   A smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself, Dan dials Phil and waits. “E.L. James couldn’t make it so I’m the replacement.”

  “Thank god. I’d rather talk to you any day.”

  “Is my voice your favorite sound?” Dan asks sarcastically.

  “Yes.”

   The smile grows. “In that case it’s worth nothing that your voice is my favorite sound too.”

   “Lucky that,” Phil says, and Dan can hear the accompanying eye roll. “What a coincidence.”

   “Are you finished with your homework?” he asks. There’s a pen sitting beside his computer and he flicks it with his thumb and forefinger. It hits the wall and rolls back towards him, and he repeats the action.

  “The pressing assignments,” Phil says. “You?”

  “Sort of, kind of, not really?”

  “Is the creativity block still pretty bad?”

  “It’s still there,” Dan says, making a face. “By this point I’ve learned to cope but I wouldn’t call it fantastic.”

   “What genre do you like to write?”

   “I gravitate towards realistic fiction but it doesn’t really matter.”

   “Hmm,” Phil’s voice trails off into contemplative silence. “I told you that I would help you cure your creativity block. I promise I haven’t forgotten, it’s just a work in progress.”

   “Don’t worry about it,” Dan says. “It’d be nice to have the block gone but I don’t want it to become your issue.”

   “Who said anything about worrying?” Phil asks. “Who do you think I am, Philip Lester?”

   “Did anyone ever tell you you’re absolutely freaking hilarious?” Dan asks dryly.

   “Hey!” Chris’s shout comes from the living room and he yanks the phone away from his ear, cupping a hand over the microphone. “Cheese or pepperoni?”

  “Why not both?” Dan asks, raising his voice. “We both know you can eat at least one of those without any help.”

   “I’m glad you agree!”

    He repositions the phone. Phil’s saying something, but he can’t quite make out the words. “Sorry, what?”

   “I asked if you had to go.”

   “I should, yeah. Did I relieve your boredom?”

   “I think it’s safe to say that you did, but now I want pizza, too,” Phil says. “Good luck with your story.”

   “Thanks,” Dan says. “I’ll see you then.” He pushes the end call button, shoving his phone in his pocket and turning off the light.

    Chris looks up from his laptop, scowling at the screen. “Have I mentioned before that this thing is utter shit?”

   “Once or twice,” Dan says.

   Chris releases a long breath from between his teeth, eyeing him intently.“Phil?” He nods. “I’m not saying anything but--”

   “Yes you are,” Dan interrupts, subjecting the boy to a glare. “How long did they say on the pizza?”

   “Ten, fifteen minutes tops,” Chris says. “I’m just saying, if you’re planning on making a move you should do it soon.”

    Dan stares at him incredulously. He doesn’t see any point in arguing further, and he retreats to his room; making sure Chris can hear the slam of the door behind him. Even if he was interested in Phil, hypothetically speaking, for those feelings to be reciprocated is about as likely as finishing top of his maths class. There’s no way in hell a notion like that could ever be more than a fleeting fantasy, and he’s never been one for daydreams.

...

    Dan’s seat in Creative Writing is located diagonally by the only window in the classroom. The door is located a short distance away, accessible in ten seconds, maybe less if he’s charged with adrenaline. He has the best seat in the room; if a need for escape presents itself he can make a run for the door or shatter the glass and jump out the window. The drop to the ground isn’t high enough to kill him. He thinks.

   His professor’s giving some lecture about characterization but he stopped listening a while ago. He hopes she doesn’t ask what his story concept is any time in the next millennium, because he doesn’t have one. Despite Phil’s bravado about curing his creativity block the page is as empty as it was a month ago. Christmas break starts in two weeks, and he’s hoping to have the skeleton of his story finished by the end of break.

   He contemplates if the other thirty two students have completed the assignment yet. He thinks that’s unlikely, but he also doubts any of them are quite as far behind as he is. The sparse moments he has to write he’s either too tired to do much more than log onto his computer, or he lacks the inspiration to produce anything with a glimmer of potential.

   Dan scribbles in the margins of the newest handout, previous doodles already littering most of the available white space. He can write nonsensical drivel until every inch of his skin is stained, but finding the right words and phrases long enough for a novel is an impossibility.

  the invisible boy loved the dark so much the shadows rose to swallow him whole. he wondered, if people were fireflies would the world be a brighter place?

  Dan chances a glance at the clock; twenty minutes until his next class. It seems like he’s always counting down to something, the end of class, the end of the day, the days before break, the years before graduation. Sometimes he doesn’t think the countdown is ever going to come to an end. If life’s composed of moments than each moment lasts the number of seconds it takes to end. Everything is composed of numbers, and though they’re cool and aloof and safe there’s a security to them that he’s too afraid venture out of.

   He wonders how long it’ll take before he begins counting down the seconds to his death. Sometimes he think he thinks he’s already started.

   For the end of November the weather is warm enough to allow spending lunch and the time between classes outside, something that Dan wholeheartedly prefers to eating in the cafeteria. Conversations flow more freely, and he can stretch out on the grass and watch the clouds.

   PJ and Phil’s digital storytelling class is the first that’s released, and by the time Dan reaches their usual spot most of the time Chris’s already there. Phil’s sitting with his back against the tree and knees tucked to his chest, PJ and Chris sprawled on the ground in front of him. A sketchbook is perched on his legs, pen uncapped and ink flowing onto the white canvas.

  “Is Louise free yet?” PJ asks.

   “Five minutes,” Dan says, checking his watch and sitting beside Phil. Louise’s French class runs later than anyone else’s, but her next class starts a good half an hour later than his does so he supposes it evens out.

    Sometimes he wishes he saw her more often. The points of their lives that intersect are sporadic; planets brushing and occasionally colliding but never for long. “How was digital storytelling?” he asks.

  “Fine,” PJ says. “Nothing new really, we’re supposed to be drafting a storyboard for a short film. How was English?”

  “Long,” Dan says, pulling a face. “At least break starts soon. That’s something I guess.”

  “PJ and I have an Important Announcement,” Chris says, waving a hand in the air with what he assumes is meant to be an impressive gesture.

  “We do?”

  “Yes,” Chris says, pushing himself up on his elbows and giving PJ a meaningful look.

  “Right,” PJ says, eyes widening in understanding. “We do.”

   “For those of us who aren’t telepathic would you care to clarify?” Dan asks.

   “Hush,” Chris says, raising an admonitory eyebrow. “Patience grasshopper.”

   Dan shakes his head, turning his attention to Phil. The sunlight is filtered through the branches and leaves of the tree overhead, casting parts of his profile in shadow. He thinks that Phil’s the kind of person that deserves to have stories written about him and paintings created in his likeness, yet he doubts there’s an artist alive who could begin to do him justice.

   “It’s a capybara,” Phil says, catching Dan’s eye and tilting the drawing. “A work in progress.”

   “I like it,” Dan says, tracing a careful finger over the drying ink. “Are they your favorite animal?”

    “They’re in the running.” Phil’s eyes slide past Peter, landing on the rapidly approaching figure of Louise. “Hey.”

    “Hello.” Her backpack is tossed on the ground with a dull thumping noise, and she lays on the ground, closing her eyes.

    “Now that everyone’s here I want to make the Important announcement,” Chris says, staggering to his feet.

   “What’re you on about?” Louise asks, her words punctured by a yawn. “I’m too tired for anything that requires more response than a grunt.”

   “PJ and I are dating,” Chris says proudly. Silence meets his words, and a quick glance at everyone confirms that the other two are just as unimpressed as Dan is.

   “Wow, what a surprise,” he says sarcastically. “I never would’ve suspected.”

    Chris looks distinctly wounded. “Thanks mate. Good to have your support as always.”

   “You two have wanted to bang each other for ages,” he snorts. “If you wanted to deliver a shocker this wasn’t it.”

   “Congratulations,” Phil says, offering a thumbs up.

   “Thank you Phil,” Chris says pointedly. He sits down again, crossing his arms wearing an expression akin to a pout.

    “Cheer up,” PJ says, bumping his shoulder. “At least they didn’t throw rotten tomatoes.”

   “That’s tomorrow,” Dan says. He stifles a yawn, checking his phone. He had time to take a nap, but he doesn’t think Chris would agree with the idea.

    “Are you lot going home for break?” PJ asks.

   “I am,” Phil says. There’s no enthusiasm to his words and Dan frowns, giving him a sideways glance.

   “Does that mean you’ll need some entertainment over the holidays?” he asks.

   Phil smiles. “I think some entertainment would be nice.”

   “I’ll also be at home doing nothing,” Dan says. “I have a feeling the entertainment hotline might decide to give you a call.”

  He decides that Phil has the nicest eyes he’s seen, a shade of blue that Van Gogh could only dream of. He’s heard people talk about drowning in eyes before, but Phil’s are more like the sky and Dan thinks he wouldn’t mind letting the anchors snap and float away.

...

    Dan’s favorite bookstore, Ink and Quill, is only a five minute away from the school. Whenever Things become too much it’s his first place of refuge. There's a sofa nestled in front of a fireplace by which a bookshelf is crammed, and it's there he sits and contemplates the meaningless of existence.

   Tuesdays are always his least favorite days. There’s an expectation that Mondays will be bad, and Wednesdays are hump days; if you can survive the first two days you can survive the last few. Thursdays are so close to Fridays and Fridays are the day before the weekend that they’re bearable, but Tuesday serves no purpose other than lengthening the week and adding another day to the work week.

   It’s on one such Tuesday afternoon that Dan finds himself laying on the sofa with his eyes closed. Spots dance across the back of his eyelids, a pale imitation of his own northern lights. He holds the lights closer, as if by squeezing his eyes shut he can make them illuminate his mind.

  “Hey.”

   He opens his eyes, the warmth of Phil’s voice casting it’s own luminescence over the dim lightning from the fire. There’s a skylight directly overhead, and if he tilts his head at the right angle he can see the sky. The torrential downpour outside successfully blocks the sun, projecting a gloomy and melancholy air over everything else. All there is is a mass of gray, and he thinks that if oblivion was to be summed up in a color this would be it.

   “Hi,” he says, leaning against one of the armrests and crossing his legs. Phil sits on the opposite end of the sofa, mimicking his posture. Their legs are pressed together, thighs touching and calves brushing. There’s a distinct warmth to it and for once Dan doesn’t mind the contact. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “I think I’ve seen you around before,” Phil says, a smile ghosting his face. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Well enough.” Dan shrugs, trying to play the action off as nonchalant. “What about you?”

    Phil raises an eyebrow, as if to call him out on the complete falsity of his response. “Fine,” he answers, the challenge in his voice palpable.

    Dan can’t remember the last time someone paid enough attention to notice the difference between sincerity and empty words. It’s nice--but that still doesn’t mean he’s going to sob into Phil’s shoulder and unload the weight of his problems. “What are you doing here?”

  He’s afraid the question comes off as brusque, but Phil doesn’t show any outward signs of offense. “I was submitting my application,” the boy says.

  “For what?”

  “Exchange program and mentorship,” Phil says, eyes lighting up. “In California.”

    Something ugly has begun to take root. “When would it be?”

    “The next three years. I’d finish my degree there.”

    “A transfer essentially?” Dan asks. He’s not sure why it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, but it does and he can’t breathe.

    “You could look at it that way,” Phil acknowledges. “I doubt they’ll accept me, but I figured there was nothing to lose in trying.”

    “I hope they accept you,” Dan says, even though no, he really hopes they don’t. He’s aware he’s being incredibly selfish and that there’s no logic to his thinking, but he can’t force himself past the idea of university without Phil.

  “Thanks Dan. You’ll be the first person I’ll tell once I hear something.” Phil gives him an expectant look. “What brings you here?”

   “I like it here,” Dan says. “I usually come here on Tuesdays and think about Things.”

   “Things?”

    “How nothing matters in the end.” He means his words to come off as sarcastic, but he doesn't think he's successful. 

    “What do you mean?”

    Dan shrinks into the sofa. “I was just kidding,” he says. “Never mind.”

    “Well, if you do want to talk about the end of the world I’m always here.”

   Dan tries not to read into that last part too deeply. Phil is still looking at him a little too closely, and he changes the subject. “When are you going home?”

  “Tonight. When are you?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Dan says. He pushes up his sleeve, glancing at his watch. “I should go and pack. I hope your trip goes well.”

   “Thanks, you too,” Phil says. “Should I keep an ear out for the hotline?”

   “I think you should,” Dan smiles. He shrugs his coat on, rising to his feet. “I’ll see you next year.”

   Phil nods. “Happy Christmas and New Year,” he says. There’s a brief hesitation before he pulls Dan into a hug, letting go almost immediately. Dan thinks he can make out the ghost of a blush on the boy’s face as he opens the door.

   The hug was nicer than he remembers hugs being, and he can’t remember the last time he was disappointed for physical contact to end. Hugs, he comes to the conclusion, should be given more often.

...

     His aunt’s house is always too much of something. Too much noise, too much smalltalk, too much of the same questions and answers over and over again until he finds the quietest corner that he can and retreats. Everyone from his grandparents to cousins to family friends crowd the already cramped space of the living room, spilling out into the dining room and even upstairs.

   It’s impossible to not feel claustrophobic. He’s found that if he spends enough time buried in other people that the walls feel like they’re closing in. There’s no escape from the endless conversation and observation, and in a way it reminds him of school. Always under a microscope, where each and every movement and word is subject to dissection and offense.

    After answering yet another question about uni good, fine, yes, no, Dan slips down to the basement in the hopes that he might find it at least relatively empty. Because the universe hates him, two of his cousins are battling to the death with light sabers and knocking over every piece of furniture in the process. He lets the door slam behind him, leaving before he can be blamed for any of the destruction.

   The upstairs is too loud and too chaotic for any semblance of solitude, and after giving the downstairs a final check he votes for going outside. He’s heard there’s something called grass. From the first floor there are two ways outside--a sliding glass door that leads to the porch and the front door connected to the kitchen.

    The porch door is the least mobbed, and he begins to make his way over. A poke to the back of his neck and a demand to join a card game puts a temporary halt to his escape, and he makes up a lie about needing to get a drink of water before making a run for it. Dan’s not sure if it’s a failure of memory or something else, but he doesn’t remember family reunions ever being quite this bad. The door slides open easily enough, and he steps outside.

   The sky is clear for the most part, and a slight chill sends a puff of condensation into the air every time he exhales. His decision to not bring a coat is one that he’s now regretting, but it’s not worth going back inside to grab it. The wooden slats of the porch are damp and cold to the touch, and he steps off and settles in the grass. The walls aren’t enough to mute the noise, although they make it relatively bearable.

   He closes his eyes, attempting to return his breathing to a somewhat regular pace. A quiet buzzing interrupts his train of thought, and he cracks open an eyelid. He fumbles for his phone, clumsily swiping without bothering to check the caller I.D. “Hello?”

   “Hey.”

  The smile that crosses Dan’s face at Phil’s greeting feels ridiculous, and he’s glad the dark and solitude conceal the expression from analyzation. “Enjoying your festivities?”

    “Not particularly. You?”

   “No. Merry Christmas.” There’s no enthusiasm in Phil’s statement, and there’s even less in Dan’s reply.

   “You too. How’s break been?”

   “I’m actually looking forward to starting school again which I think says a lot.”

   “Is it really that bad?” Dan asks.

   “I might be slightly dramatic,” Phil says. “Family gatherings were never really my favorite thing, but it could always be worse. How’re you?”

   “About the same as you. At least on campus there’s somewhere to hide that’s not outside.”

   “After we get back you should come over,” Phil says, the statement slightly distorted over the sudden influx of noise. “I still have to give you your present.

   “Sure, sounds like a plan.” Dan agrees. He neglects to mention that Phil’s gift is still in the development stages.

  “What's your favorite color?”

  “Blue,” Dan says. “Like the sky. You?”

  “Purple. Like an aubergine.” The static of a loud crash cuts through Phil’s next phrase.

  “What did you say?”

   “I have to go, sorry,” Phil says. “My little sister almost set the table cloth on fire. I’ll talk to you later.” The lines dies before Dan can say anything in response, and he stares at his phone until the screen goes black. He would never admit it, but out of all of the presents he’s gotten so far hearing Phil’s voice is undoubtedly the best one yet.

...

  The worst part of packing all of his family in one house is the inevitable lack of sleep. Dan’s out like a light the moment his head hits the pillow, and it feels like mere seconds have passed before his eyelids are pried open. Literally.

   “Play with me!” Kat, his younger cousin, is jumping on the bed. Her fingers are millimeters away from Dan’s eyes, their attack momentarily paused.

  Dan groans, batting away her hands. He rubs his eyes, blinking a few times to ensure that nothing's broken. “What time is it?”

  Kat shrugs, blonde hair forming a mane around her face. “Time for you to wake up!”

   “I am awake.” Dan buries his face back in his pillow. “And now I'm asleep.”

  He can hear Kat’s pout, sense her arms crossing and bottom lip beginning to jut out. “Why are grown ups so boring?”

   Dan sighs, rolling over to face his cousin. “Why don't you go wake up your parents?” Normally he’d feel guilty about pawning Kat off on her parents at some some ungodly hour in the morning, but he's too tired to feel anything but exhaustion.

  “Because.” Kat begins to jump on the bed, her words falling into time with her movements. “Because because because because because--”

  “If you leave me alone I promise I’ll play with you in a few hours,” Dan coaxes. “I’ll even give you an extra cookie at lunch today.”

  Kat mulls his offer, head tilting to one side. “Okay,” she agrees, sliding off the bed. She totters towards the exit, the door slamming shut behind her. Dan lets the silence envelop him, nestling into the quiet and letting it fill his head overflowing.

    He stumbles downstairs a few hours later, showered, dressed, and hungry. His mum is at the stove, a growing plate of pancakes sitting on the counter beside her. She hums a greeting, shooting him a warning glance.

  “Touch those pancakes and you won’t be getting any,” she says threateningly, waving the spatula at him. In a competition for the best puppy dog eyes Dan would be a long ways away from the winner, but they’d always worked on his mum.

  “I won’t tell Kat,” he wheedles.

  His mum sighs, gesturing for him to open his mouth. She casts a furtive glance around the room, tossing one into the waiting trap. “You’d better not.”

  “Thanks mum,” Dan says brightly. He puts a hand over his mouth to hide his chewing. Whatever else could be said about his mum, there was no denying that she knew how to cook. He had never been a fan of family reunions, but he supposes they’re not all bad.

...

   The bus had arrived back on campus at three forty one in the morning. He’d exchanged a sleepy greeting with Chris who’d arrived the day prior before dumping his bags on the ground. He sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper, beginning to brainstorm ideas for Phil’s present.

   The current beginnings of said present sits on top of his desk, unfinished and a complete disaster even four hours later. Dan stares at it for a moment, hoping that today will be the day that his telepathic abilities kick in and the gift will magically finish itself. Disappointingly, though admittedly unsurprisingly, the paper remains in shards and the cardboard in mangled sections. A quick knock breaks his concentration, and before he can say anything in response the door opens.

   “Why bother knocking if you’re going to come in anyway?” Dan asks, swiveling in his chair. Chris stands in the doorway, holding a plate of cookies and balancing a glass of milk in the other hand.

   He shoots a vaguely horrified look at Dan’s project. “The hell is that supposed to be?” The question reflects confusion and slight disgust, which Dan thinks is probably the appropriate reaction.

   “Your guess is as good as mine,” he says grimly. “It was supposed to be a book, now I honestly have no idea.” In theory his idea wasn’t completely terrible. Originally he’d wanted to write something, but he’s resorted to binding a book for Phil to write his thoughts down in and giving him a fountain pen. He’ll be the first to admit it’s not the most creative idea out there, but it’s always harder to come up with a gift for someone you care about.

   “Is that for Phil?” Chris asks. He enters the room and sits on the edge of Dan’s bed, setting the plate and glass on his desk. “Christmas present?”

   “Yeah. What are you getting PJ?”

   “Camera lens,” Chris says. “He won’t shut up about it--contrary to common belief I can take a hint.” A quiet smile steals the bite from his words, and Dan would tease him about it if he had the energy.

   “Are those for me?” he asks, jerking his chin towards the cookies.

   “No,” Chris says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I brought food all the way to your room because I thought it would be a nice centerpiece.”

   Dan grabs a cookie off the top, the chocolate burning his tongue and bursting in his mouth. He lets his eyes flutter shut, the slight bitterness of the chocolate cut by the sugar in the dough. The contrast is perfect, and he doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything so delicious. “When you asked me about moving in together I want you to know I only said yes for the food.”

   “What’s your idea?” Chris asks.

   “I wanted to bind a book for him to write his ideas in,” Dan says. “It’s kind of a mess right now.” He reaches for his duffel bag, unzipping one of the pouches and rooting around for a moment before emerging triumphantly with a wrapped parcel. “This is yours.”

   Chris shakes it experimentally. “Is it explosives? I bet it is.”

  “It’s not explosives,” Dan says. “I pay rent too.”

   Chris tears off the wrapping paper, face lighting up. “You’re kidding me.”

    “Merry Christmas.” Dan’s almost knocked over by the enthusiasm behind the boy’s hug. He can’t help but think it’s not nearly as nice as Phil’s. “Everyone was really uncreative this year and we all saved up. Trust me, it’s a completely selfish gift. I’m tired of hearing you complain about your old laptop all of the time.”

    “Thank you. Your gift’s coming,” Chris says, straightening. “Shipping hates me.” He points to Phil’s present. “I think you should try hot gluing the fabric to the cover instead,” he suggests. “It’ll hold better.”

   “That’s actually a good idea,” Dan says.

   “I’m full of them,” Chris moves towards the door, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s why you love me.”

   “I’ll have to ask PJ’s opinion on that one.”

   “Only if you let me ask Phil’s.” He ducks the glue stick Dan throws in his general direction, his laughter following him down the hall.

hello everyone!! i was here briefly with this muse over the summer, but things happened and i fell inactive—i’m absolutely thrilled to get the chance to bring her back though!! anyways, i’m nik and this is jackass i would like you to meet kang yebin, aka rena, aka “what the fuck are you doing” because she hears that a lot. she’s nineteen and works at a (boring) stationary store near sopa and star king bowling alley which is a marginally more thrilling job except when she finds someone like passed out in a lane right before closing, so, you know, it’s a struggle too. she used to be drummer of a band but they kicked her out so she’s not really doing much of anything right now. however, she does want to pursue a career in music since that’s all she knows how to do! 

anyways, i would love to get some stuff started! i currently have profile + plots + random prompts pages up for her which might help and i’m planning to get a charisma starter call up once i have the time! otherwise, you can like this post to plot! i also have some info and ideas under the cut but it’s mostly just me rambling. so uh thank you for making it this far! let’s have fun ♡

tidbits:

lives in mapo-gu with a roommate (who i am currently searching for… hello)

SOPA graduate (whatever that’s worth)

has an older brother she hasn’t talked to in months, yikes. he taught her how to play the guitar

speaking of which can play the drums, guitar, and chopsticks on the piano

also says she can play the ukulele and the bongos but don’t test her on this

was the drummer + songwriter for the band POL★RIS but they kicked her out after their debut did badly and she’s #bitter

two time tenpin bowling champion and yes, that is important

she posts song covers and original stuff on her youtube channel, ojingeorena

allergic to dogs and thinks they’re the devil ever since one bit her when she was young

a little too fond of drinking but can’t hold her liquor so go figure

will like, fucking fight anyone anytime for whatever reason. doesn’t even have to be her fight she has pent up aggression 

also your ride-or-die friend for life. even if she seems like she doesn’t care sometimes, she really does has a fear of the people she cares about hating her ahh

plot ideas:

i would really really love some pre-established relationships for her tbh. yebin is a pretty ~*social*~ person and she’s been around the area for a while so it’d make sense for her to have some friends/enemies/rivals/eTC

very much in need of a roommate who lives in mapo. or to be more accurate, someone yebin was mooching off at first before she started paying her half of the rent and now she’s just stuck here like an unwelcome bug

frequent customers either at the stationary store or the bowling alley?? the more ridiculous or annoying, the better since her patience is stretched extremely thin while she’s working

busking buddies?? she does quite a bit so someone she always sees hanging around doing the same or someone she low key fights with for the best busking spots, idk

not even a relationship but a dynamic like “i dare you to do the thing” “why would i do the thing do i look like an idiot–alright i’m doing it” “lmfao i was kidding DON’T ACTUALLY DO IT–” 

idk anything man, anything

Overused Phrases That Should Just Fucking Die Already Power Rankings

The world is full of canned phrases, perfect for those times when you don't feel like carrying on a meaningful conversation. Just toss out some commonly accepted idioms, wait for the other dead-eyed person to return a couple of their own, and move on. Some bullshit phrases every now and again are absolutely necessary, but these ones have lost all meaning and just deserve to die. Let’s count ‘em down.

5. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Why It Needs To Die

This is the pre-packaged response for when you randomly bump in to someone you know in public. If you’re anything like me, you are in most cases woefully underprepared for these encounters. So your brain pulls some dialogue from your internal stock library and out comes “fancy seeing you here.” This process uses up fewer mental resources and prevents you from blurting out things like, “oh fuck, now I’ve got to make small talk!”

There’s nothing fancy about it; You happened upon another human you’ve met before. If anything, it is a cruel twist of fate that has jarred you out of your natural rhythm and into a strained conversation with a person who you didn’t like enough to make plans with, despite the fact that you’re going to the same goddamn place at the exact same time. Let’s stop bigging it up. 

Suitable Replacements

"Oh fuck, now I’ve got to make small talk!” Why not? Toss in a cheeky grin and the person might appreciate your candor and/or unusual sense of humour. Heck, if you say it with a straight face they might even take the hint.

“Hello person I know! Let us exchange brief pleasantries and part ways!”

4. “I need [something] yesterday!”

Why It Needs To Die

I’ll admit I’m being a little nitpicky here. On a Venn Diagram, this one would appear in the overlap between “stupid office expressions” and “things that people in their 50′s say.″ As it so happens, I spend my workday surrounded by Boomers and that’s as specific as I’d like to be.

While I don’t hear this clunker very often, I’m thrown into an irrational fury when I do. Irrational in that I try to explain the general concept of time travel to the person, accuse them of sounding ridiculous, then become furious when they fail to grasp my logic. And once they’re out of earshot I grumble to myself about how humanity would probably just waste time travel on menial office work anyway.

I think I effectively summed it up a few years back with some crude imagery and a little Doctor Who copyright infringement.

Suitable Replacements

Fuck that. We don’t need any more office buzz words. 

3. “Breakfast of Champions”

Why It Needs To Die

Back in the 1930′s, Wheaties cereal was branded as the “breakfast of champions.” Since then, the term has been broadened to refer to any kind of meal, of any size, eaten by anyone, at any point in the morning, regardless of – or in direct reference to – the meal’s suitability as an actual breakfast. In other words, it doesn’t matter what you’re eating anymore.  

Now there was a time when this line was used as be an ironic jab at someone eating an inadequate breakfast. For example:

Me: Hey there, what are you eating? Coworker: A granola bar I found under my car seat. Me: Oh, breakfast of champions!

Not terribly inventive and a little lazy but it serves a purpose. Maybe it’s even a little funny if you haven’t had a decent laugh in a while. Then again, if your coworker’s breakfast consists of found food, they shouldn’t be made to feel worse about their life choices than they already do. So yes, in that regard I’m kind of a dick for saying it.

But it’s those times when you could answer literally anything, and still be met with that same stupid response, that is truly infuriating.

Coworker: Hey there, what are you eating? Me: Just some oatmeal and a banana. Coworker: Oh, breakfast of champions!

Okay. What sort of statement is being made? Am I supposed to take that as a playful dig on my lack of originality or a compliment on a somewhat decent meal? But really, the only commentary being made here is, “I’m seeing you eating and I don’t know what else to say.” This expression has become devoid of meaning, so let’s just agree to let it die. It doesn’t yield a strong return on investment to justify keeping it around. At best, you’re a marginally clever dick. At worst, you’re willfully contributing to the downfall of the English language. 

Suitable Replacements

“It looks like you’re eating, so I’m going to leave you alone.”

Mind your own goddamn business about what people put in their bodies, maybe?

2. “Opa!”

Why It Needs To Die

You’re out at a restaurant and enjoying a nice meal when you hear the sound of a glass breaking. You tense up, dreading what comes next. The volume of the room lowers ever so slightly, as people begin to clue in. For one brief, glorious moment, you think you’ll be spared. But then, cutting through the din of the room, comes the inevitable outburst of some attention-starved patron: Opa! 

Fuck!

To those of you who jump at the chance to use this expression, I get it, really. For an instant you get to bask in the glory of being a standup comedian. You get to demonstrate your perfect comedic timing and elicit laughter from a group of strangers by using just one silly word. You feel awesome, probably (I wouldn’t know, I’ve never made anyone laugh). Except you’re less of a comedian and more like a Pavlovian dog that responds to shattering dinnerware. You said the thing that people usually say, and you’re about the millionth person to have done so since last Tuesday. So maybe just leave this one out of your repertoire. Or better still, leave the comedy to the professionals. 

Suitable Replacement

This:

The second you hear glass shatter, before those Opa fuckers have a chance to pipe up, bust into a rendition of this. Mimicking the screeching electric guitar of Stone Cold Steve Austin’s entrance theme is still pretty obnoxious, but at least it doesn’t make you want to impale your eardrums with a butter knife. 

1. “It is what it is.”

Why It Needs To Die

Sometimes you find yourself in the position where you have absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation. And that’s okay. When a conversation moves towards cars or the housing market, I absently nod my head and begin mentally sorting Game of Thrones characters into their likeliest Hogwarts Houses (if you don’t have Ser Barristan Selmy in Hufflepuff then what I don’t know what the hell you have been watching). The point is, realizing your uselessness is key.

You see, when you respond with this godawful phrase, you’re really just saying, “I have nothing relevant to say, but I’d like you to think I’m making an observation.” This bullshit statement pretty much always gets a pass. People will just nod in response, letting you walk away without any consequences. Well, I’m not other people. I’m an irritable man with a Tumblr blog and I’m holding you accountable for your bullshit. 

Hey you. Person who occasionally says “it is what it is.” You’re not shit, but sometimes your word choices are. DO BETTER.

As a statement of exasperation or futility, “fuck it” works a lot better. Cussing is funnier anyway. Also, don’t just mechanically recite it as a means of ending the conversation. Say or do anything else. Silently nod then disengage. Pretend to doff your cap and say “good day.” Shout “smoke bomb!” then bolt out of the room. Anything you can think of. Anything that doesn’t equate to “that thing is that thing, ho-hum.”

When you can swap out a phrase with absolutely nothing and have it convey the same meaning, that phrase is absolutely fucking worthless. 

Suitable Replacements

Anything else.

Total fucking silence.

long ask

I saw the post you made ( and first of all since I havent watched harley quinn show so I cant comment on the ship ( though I find it ridiculous that you seem to be implying people who are anti korrasami would automatically be anti bb  ( there were people who are anti korrasami but ship bb ) 

and second of all this is what annoys me about ship wars ( where it can get to the point where one of the characters who “get in the way ” of the ship is demonized ) and with ship wars with one being m/f and other being same sex someone will claim homophobia if you ship say black sun over bb and claim that you would ship say bb if one of them was a dude which is baseless  when its a matter of liking the writing or liking the interactions between characters more etc

not to mention the argument  when people point out how a ship say korrasami was forced and had no buildup   certain people go  but there are thousands of straight couples why cant you let us have this one when first of all goodwriting is more important then representation )  korrasami didnt have buildup it was thrown it at the last minute bryke only went to network if they could do at after thinking about how they didnt include rep when they were close to finishing the season finale ( of course they tried to cover their asses  by claiming het lenses when no  the ship  just isnt there it had no buildup or relationship development there had been more buildup / interactions with makorra then korrasami in b4 ( not to mention they fixed their problems with handling  conflict  by b4 which caused problems in their relationship ) compare all asami got in remembrances was going of course we need you youre the avatar (korras problem  at the start was only seeing herself as the avatar and not as person ) mako got a speech about what korra meant to him 

and on bb there is/was no buildup or romantic development to bb v1-v6

( there are people who are debating  on whether rooserteeth made it canon or not and  ( if the v7 stuff is supposed to imply that its forced as hell ) 

  there was no bb moments  in v6 that were  inherently romantic 

 people just try to claim these moments were romantic when they really werent and claim there was no other explanation for tihs like blake holding yangs hand when it trembled as she was facing adam which was a show of Im here for you which yang reciprocated on the plane ( and they try to equate bb on the plane to renora on the plane when no its not besides the fact that renora had volumes of buildup  were alone in that scene  the sun came up and nora did the lean head on shoulders thing) and renora were alone together no one stepped  in contrast to bb who were surrounded and friends with ruby talking to blake ( not to mention trying to claim saying that the bb moments in  v6 were platonic is like saying nora going thats my man was platonic is bs 

Nora was always flagrant about her feelings for Ren. There’s no making “my man” platonic and the hand hold was followed by head on shoulders much like Pyrrha did with Jaune before it. The BB “handhold” is followed up by Ruby comforting Blake as well.

One of the most aggravating things I’ve been seeing in regards to this ship nonsense is people using Adam’s lines (“I will destroy everything you love, starting with her”/“Does Blake make all of her classmates fight for her?”/“What does she even see in you?” ) as evidence that Blake loves Yang over Sun. Oh yes, because the unstable psychopath with a history of being a bad judge of character, especially with Blake, TOTALLY understands how and why she values her friends!

( plus adam  is a racist he hates humans a faunus supremacist  and see a human and faunus teaming up and being friends as disgusting adam barely knew yang he never saw them interact before so those moments would have been the first times he saw blake with those people ( unless he saw  the team fights  and given his surprise about yangs semblance 

(not to mention adam trying to kill her parents a reference to the I will destroy everything you love  which includes friends and family) 

( in contrast black sun has had  romantic development and teases  ( with them showing mutual romantic attraction  v1 scene  where they first met   and the way it was a shot and the angelic choir  the v2 and v3 ( where sun flirted with blake  and blake blushed  and v4 and v5 which had the meat  )etc since v1 and even in v6 there was a hint of reunion  the departure didnt sink.  blacksun  has had too much development  to just throw it away 

the name of representation would just be bad writing the attempts ot justify bad writing with the gay rep excuse is ridiculous and throwing the homophobia card etc around makes a joke of real homophobia same sex ships arent immune to criticism that is equality )  

https://rwbyconversations.tumblr.com/post/179603888501/it-was-never-about-that-or-why-sun-went-to

https://eight-of-pentacles.tumblr.com/post/185944273916

I am really annoyed with how 

certain bb shippers go to accusation to dismiss criticism focuses on their presumption of their sexuality as the issue rather than how its written.   A good love story is determine by how it’s written, NOT by the sexuality of the characters.

“LGBT are historically marginalized and therefore it’s nice they get their main character ship for once.” First of all plenty of media have lgbt main characters now. It’s not groundbreaking. But more importantly, none of that means the relationship is well done. That’s just filling a personal quota. This is a dumb argument. It’s like saying retcon sexualities and ethnicities of existing characters cause we’re too lazy to put the effort in making new ones and you all just get the leftover scraps.

commanderkurama answered:

Yea I mean….its all fine and dandy wanting representation but much the same as they wouldn’t want their first open lgbt characters as villains or killed off, you’d think they’d want their canon couples to be well developed. Most of what they get so hype over about BB is headcanon or trynna reach to connect it to better developed het ships to leech off of their development to make up for the lack of actual substance it has.  because I want to have faith in crwby I will say that v7  was just platonic. ( though more cynical people say they threw blacksun out because they wanted to earn points and get a bit more attention  by having a same sex w/w ship ( which is annoying they could havedone the same thing with freezerburn  weiss and yang werent being teased with anyone and it doesnt throw out any prior relationship teases/development

HEY MAYBE DON’T SEND ME SHIT ABOUT BS BEING BETTER THAN BB etc etc...

Listen, since i’ve posted my comic i’ve gotten plenty of messages saying i’m just not listening to criticism and bb/korrassami/harlivy etc is actually bad and i would see it if i actually cared about good writing bla bla bla.

 And i’ve answered some of them, but now im just tired, bc i came to the conclusion that i’m not gonna convice anyone who thinks they’re above homophobia and heteronormativity (bc they’re too woke for that i guess) that, tho i listened to what they had to say, their arguments just aren’t convincing to me.

So yeah, you think bs (or whatever het ship) is absolutely superior and better written than bb (or whatever wlw ship), bc bb is retcon/forced/pandering/just the fandom reaching etc etc, good for you dude, live your life, write your essay and post it on tumblr.

Just could ya’ll please leave me alone now???

Now, if after reading the comic, you’re very curious about what i think (and not what you assumed i think), here are some links to my other responses:

1. BB is going against Monty’s plan

2. Double standarts i, personally, see with same sex couples

3. Refusing to see bb interactions as romantic

4. Yes it is okay not to like wlw ships (no it’s not alway homophobia, but even if i think you sound like a homophobe when you talk about a same sex ship, i can’t really do anything about it, so yep it is always okay not to like a ship, no one is stopping you) + problems i have with each ship mentioned in the comic

If you still, legitimatelly, wanna talk to me about writing (and by all means, please do, i like talking about writing), how about you start with “hello, how are you? My name is .....” and we can go from there?

Hey all, Dani here.

So this past weekend Damian and I went to work with my friend Brad from Colorworld Books, and it was quite a busy time, but it was overall a wonderful experience. Brad’s wife, Rachel, writes the Colorworld book series, which I admit to being obsessed with–actually, I bet I’ll have another book review up by the end of the year, because she’s supposed to release book 6.3 sometime this year. It’s been a couple years since I was able to work with them, but I wanted to give Damian that experience, so we talked it over with them and the plans were made.

Let’s just start with the fact that our weekend technically started as soon as we finished work for the week, so Thursday at 4pm. We went home, dropped off our work stuff, packed up our last few necessary items, and loaded up our car, before heading out again. The drive was long and we were already a bit tired, but we made it to Cincinnati around 8pm, checked in at the hotel, and then went to the Duke Energy Center to meet Brad and pick up our exhibitor badges. Well, that turned into us parking the car and working until 10pm trying to get some of the booth set up since Brad was running a little bit late.

After that we went back to the hotel and slept.

Friday morning we had to be at the convention center by 8am, even though the show floor wasn’t set to open until 2pm. And yes, it did take us until about ten minutes before 2 to get the booth completely set up.

Yeah, it is a big and impressive booth, right? We sold quite a bit of merchandise and met a good amount of awesome and geeky people from 2pm until the show floor closed at 8pm. After that it was time for dinner–which was Lucy Blue Pizza (delicious, for the record)–and then we went back to our hotel and passed out.

Wow, I somehow almost forgot the best parts of Friday: celebrity meetings. So right before the show floor opened, Brad took us over to meet his friend Colleen Clinkenbeard (the voice of Erza in “Fairy Tail,” along with a whole lot of other voice acting credits). I had a super major fangirl moment, because Colleen has played a few characters who have meant so so much to me. I admit it, I cried when I met her. But she was an absolute sweetheart, so that was wonderful.

And then, in the middle of the day I happened to look up as Wil and Anne Wheaton walked by. I said hello to them and they both stopped and we were able to have a conversation with them. We asked how their dog Marlowe was, and talked to Wil a bit about D&D. Of course that made me bring up my celebrity signed Player’s Handbook, and Wil told me to bring it by his booth and he would sign it. I didn’t lose it and fangirl until after they walked away. And I did get my PHB signed, but that had to wait until Sunday–and sorry, I can’t show off the signature because it is signed to me using my legal name, not my blogging name.

Saturday was the longest day of the convention, though not the longest day for us. The show floor opened at 9:30am and closed at 7pm, and oh man, it was so wonderfully busy. We got to talk to so so many wonderful people. That’s really what going to cons is about, meeting people and geeking out together. It’s great. Oh, and after the convention I took Damian to live out a childhood dream–by taking him to Hooters for dinner. So that was fun. Saturday was also the day that we went and bought my new Switch Lite, which I am really loving so far. Anyway, back to con talk.

Sunday we made it to the convention a little bit early so we could walk around and buy some merch for ourselves. Mostly this ended up being artwork, so I’ll show just a few of those items here, but my favorite purchase had to be the ocarina that I’ve been wanting since I worked with Colorworld Books back in 2016. Back then we were an aisle over from the ocarina booth and I had to listen to that delightful music the whole weekend. I regretted not buying one then. So, upon discovering that they were there again, I absolutely had to get myself an ocarina. Oh, and all of the metal bookmarks and art prints are from Colorworld Books, because of course I need to support my friends in their awesome business by keeping myself in a supply of geeky artwork.

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Oh, and Sunday the show floor was open from 9:30am until 5:00 pm. Then came the real work: taking down everything that we had put up for display a couple days earlier. I honestly had thought that we would be lucky to actually finish by the midnight deadline, but somehow Damian, Brad, and I managed to get finished by about 9:30pm, which is outstanding. We had to box up all of the shirts, take down each display art print individually and wipe off any smudgy fingerprints before gently slipping them into protective plastic sleeves. It’s just a long and somewhat tedious task. But we did it.

Overall it was a few very long days, but we left feeling so wonderfully fulfilled in our hearts and souls. The part of the weekend that is making these days following so difficult is that once again I was offered a full-time place on Team Colorworld, and Damian was offered the same. They want to see their team get bigger, and it is a wonderful opportunity to do something that we actually love and are passionate about. My big concern is seeing what that means for insurance, paying bills, retirement, etc. Getting to travel around the country attending conventions and getting paid to do it, is frankly a dream job, and my heart immediately wants to jump into this opportunity, but I can’t neglect the fact that I have massive student loan debt, and Damian and I just bought a house, and all these other facts of responsibility. We have a lot to think about, and a lot of numbers to crunch. It may be that Damian and I could be making some big life changes soon. We’ll just have to see how do-able it is.

All right, well that is all for today, but I’ll be back soon with more bookish content.

Cincinnati Comic Expo 2019 Wrap-Up Hey all, Dani here. So this past weekend Damian and I went to work with my friend Brad from Colorworld Books, and it was quite a busy time, but it was overall a wonderful experience.

Shrek Retold

Starscreamapillar I feel like I may have regrets attending tonight's stream. Me You too? thenightetc Hello! No regrets, only amusement. Starscreamapillar This placeholder image is not filling me with confidence. Me It's very slowly coming this way. Me Here we go! ThebesAce hello! thenightetc settles in Me Hello, Thebes human! Just in time! Me Off to a great start. Starscreamapillar Indeed... thenightetc ...Interesting thenightetc I don't know why I'm surprised by the All Star cover Starscreamapillar I am sure a lot of work went into this nonsense. Me I'm sure a great number of people are experiencing...something resembling pride?

thenightetc glAARHG Me You know what would go perfectly with this? Steam! Me So, so much Steam. thenightetc Is that a tellytubby Starscreamapillar I do not generally partake, but you are absolutely right. thenightetc I forgot about that part Me Is...is that a diaper? thenightetc Maybe? thenightetc Saw a post pointing out that he hesitates before saying his name, as though making it up on the spot Me Seems believable. Starscreamapillar There are not enough drugs in any universe to make this make sense. Me Not in all the universes combined. thenightetc uh Wow, somebody really likes Ren and Stimpy Me I never would have guessed. Me We are ten minutes in and I feel like I've blown a massive circuit. thenightetc Yeah Starscreamapillar Has it only been ten minutes? thenightetc god Me I like the bursts of talent, like glimmers of light and air. thenightetc I'm just waiting them to pronounce it "fuckwad" Me If they don't, I'm going to be hideously disappointed. thenightetc you know what, I forgot there was a waterboarding scene Me Shronk. Starscreamapillar It is just too disjointed and weird to comment on. All you can do is watch. Me You took the words out of my mouth. thenightetc in which Shrek is all of us Me I keep reaching for commentary, but it's like watching a formation of fliers plummet towards the ground. You just...can't look away.

Starscreamapillar What can even be said? I cannot comment on their ineptness, because it was on purpose. thenightetc (Thebes is having browser problems, they should be knocking to get back in soon) Me They knew exactly what they were doing. Every second of this was someone's conscious decision. I'll keep an optic out! Dear Unicron. ThebesAce whaaaat Starscreamapillar There is no explaining it. thenightetc God ThebesAce Scream yourself awake nightmare faces: the movie Me Scream, scream, and know that no help is coming. Starscreamapillar You plan on sleeping again, after this? Me Never. Me Megatron eyes. Starscreamapillar Somehow more terrifying here. thenightetc uh thenightetc UH Me I thenightetc i'm uncomfortable Me This is an exercise in...something. Starscreamapillar Madness? Me That works. Me The sound of my dying neural circuits. thenightetc I don't like that character model Me Nothing about any of this is alright. thenightetc And its nudity Actually, with the fur it's more like a fur suit with... cutouts. Me .....Cutouts. Starscreamapillar I am strongly considering getting Prime to rip my face off, to spare me having to know I watched this. Me I imagine this is what getting your face ripped off by Prime would feel like, but for two hours. Starscreamapillar Probably. Me Elementary Cybertronian? Starscreamapillar Miniconish? ThebesAce So I'd just like to point out that this might be a deliberate form of torture DISGUISED as a movie thenightetc I'd believe it Me I wouldn't trust either side with this movie. Starscreamapillar Can this be called a movie, and not an assortment of nightmares? Me Assortment of nightmares, I like that. thenightetc Heh. ThebesAce WELL Starscreamapillar At least someone apologized. Me One down, 199 to go. Starscreamapillar Somehow, the strange delivery does nothing to dilute how stupid this trope is. Me It really doesn't. thenightetc Ah, the big misunderstanding for drama thenightetc *irritated sighing* Starscreamapillar No.... Me I, for one, am learning so many new things about fear. Starscreamapillar He just keeps going... Me It just won't stop. Starscreamapillar This thing never ends. ThebesAce Y'know what? If there's a hell, this is probably footage of it Me This is the innermost layer of the Pit. thenightetc Actual good animation! DOES IT NOW. Me At least pretend to care. Me I think that may have been the worst segment. Even the ugliest had some passion in them. Me ...I think I like this cover. Starscreamapillar Even the one with the guy explaining how he never saw a movie he'd seen hundreds of times? Me That one had the word Shrelb. Starscreamapillar Aah, fair. thenightetc Well, that was all... something. Starscreamapillar Something. Yes. Me That was an experience. I'm not sure whether we're better for it. Me I feel like I've lost something I can't get back. Starscreamapillar I do not feel better for suffering through that. Me I'm letting the credits run because I wouldn't put it past them to throw one last nightmare face at us. Starscreamapillar I have exploded from the inside out, and it hurt marginally less than this. thenightetc Ouch. I'll take your word for that. Me I was going to say I'd take the subway train over another run of this, but I think you have me beat. Starscreamapillar I cannot recommend the experience. Me The human who sang Hallelujah haunts my mind. I sincerely can't tell whether he was in on it or not. Or if he even knew where he was. Starscreamapillar He knew that she was a shrek, though. He was certain of that. Me Very certain. Starscreamapillar He had the movie at home. So he knew. Me Alright, then! Onto our usual light note. thenightetc Whew. Me A much better reanimated work. thenightetc Oh! 😀 Me More astonishing than horrifying. thenightetc "Their" finance Me How oddly progressive for humans? They really get a kick out of the third one being fat. thenightetc Oh god it's a.... whatchacallit Those pillow things Starscreamapillar No one will ever know when you shout it like that. thenightetc GAH Me That sure did happen. Starscreamapillar What was the moral here? Me .... thenightetc Don't go into pubs. Me Anyway! Thank you all for not fleeing five minutes into this! thenightetc Well, thank YOU for hosting! Starscreamapillar I have regrets that I did not, but thank you for hosting, all the same. thenightetc I'd say something about repaying you someday but I think under the circumstances that would sound a little sinister. Me If you ever get your hands on something that tops this for nightmare fuel, I'll take my medicine and humbly attend. thenightetc Heh. ThebesAce *begins compiling list* Starscreamapillar Ominous. thenightetc Hey, here's something apparently worse than Leo the Lion! Me Is there, now? thenightetc "Son of Aladdin" Me Ohhh dear. ThebesAce oh yeah, that one thenightetc Disclaimer: I haven't seen it Me ....No, no trailers. If it ever happens, I'd like to go in blind. ThebesAce It has no highs in quality. Shockingly, it just is an entire downhill slide thenightetc Good idea. Me That's always worked out well before. thenightetc It kinda does. Starscreamapillar Worked out, perhaps. Well might be stretching it. thenightetc ...Huh. "What the HELL are Gun Safety Cartoons? " Same guy as the first video up on this list ThebesAce I'm actually a fan of this guy. He subjects himself to terrible, terrible things for our amusement. Most recent? Furry Noah's Ark thenightetc Oh, I saw that! I mean, his what-the-hell-is video Me That one is dripping with sexual tension between the Jason Priestly human and Eddie. Don't ask me how I know. Starscreamapillar . . . thenightetc How, uh.... how do you know? Me ... thenightetc "with a GUN" thenightetc eagle eyes, huh? so he's a SNIPER Me Eddie Eagle's far too proud of his kill count. thenightetc "Peeping into people's houses" Starscreamapillar Spying in people's houses, on their children. Me And coming in through the window. Hah! thenightetc God How long was he watching them, exactly...? Starscreamapillar And their father beat them for creeping around his room. thenightetc Pffff "Glorious" Uh Starscreamapillar Why.... thenightetc Wow, he wasn't kidding Me Oh my. thenightetc oh my god thenightetc Ah, the gun part of the brain Me The gun lobe. Me Officer Few Bad Apples will make you disappear if you don't toe the line. thenightetc *feels bad for laughing at that, thank you* Me I've done my job. thenightetc Okay, the captain's wearing pants, but the lion isn't Me It's that kind of cruise. thenightetc I bet there's a more R-rated redraw of that exact scene Me For the record, this is the version with Jason Priestly human licking Eddie over the phone. Starscreamapillar . . . Licking? thenightetc Licking? Me Well, no, but there's definitely something going on there. Starscreamapillar Born with that awful shirt on. thenightetc Already wearing a shirt And his mom has hair. Me That qualifies as a congenital defect. Starscreamapillar Five, or six. He should really know how many there were. thenightetc A file cabinet thenightetc That's where she keeps the proof Me My turn to laugh and feel vaguely bad about it. Starscreamapillar Grandma did not question the giant eagle. thenightetc Where are their parents Starscreamapillar They were shot. thenightetc A whole playground full of future Batmans Me Now their children are legally owned by the NRA. thenightetc "Dad! Someone put a gun in your closet!" Me "And some videos about sailors!" Starscreamapillar Now I know what to do when I find a gun. thenightetc JOSHUA AND THE PROMISED LAND. I saw that one! Me Is it as bad as the thumbnail's suggesting? thenightetc I mean, the video on the list, there It looks amazing. We should watch the actual movie sometime See? It just jumps right in Me In that case, I'll spoil nothing for myself. Starscreamapillar I have already seen too much. thenightetc I think it'll be one of those descent-into-madness things Me We can never have enough of those. thenightetc Just standing around with his dick out. Me We all know what you did on this cruise. thenightetc Eyyyyyy. thenightetc God, that crowd is so low-effort Me They look agonized. thenightetc What was their budget for this, $20 and a six-pack? Me I'd believe it. thenightetc Again, everyone but him is wearing pants Me Lion Daren has a lot of nerve to judge considering he spent his vacation face deep in poppers and Hurricanes. Starscreamapillar He dares to show everyone his genitals. Starscreamapillar Enhance. Attract. Receive. Me Well, just look at you. thenightetc That sounds like a slogan for some kind of multi-level marketing scam Starscreamapillar The enternet. Me Please, please tell me Cabear is a series. thenightetc "We'll have a talk with your uncle Tony. He'll make them 'disappear'." thenightetc Off to the races. That'd be the horse races. Me Got his success hat on. Me His parents will give him pep talks and get Uncle Tony involved, but won't consider buying him new shirts. I'd actively encourage Impact to bully this child. Starscreamapillar As he should be. Me Apparently, Cabear was too good to last. Starscreamapillar He was just too hard to expertly animate. Me The bullies rolled him into their car after school and drove away and he was never seen again. Starscreamapillar They mailed his terrible hat to his parents. Me Really, it was for the best. Me Well, I certainly can't think of anything to top Cabear. thenightetc Power of the Pen? Me Oh! thenightetc What... is that Me I want a talking pen. I was expecting this and I want this. thenightetc Less entertaining than anticipated Starscreamapillar Get a microcon, and have it take a pen as its alt mode. Me Make my own anti-bullying short in the time it takes the enforcers to arrive. thenightetc So does Captain McFin eat bullies Is that a slide Underwater? Me Be as entertaining as Cabear! ThebesAce Underwater is a nebulous concept in cartoons. They BARELY tried here Me This is the new standard I hold all media to. Me If there had been a series, I promise you, we would be watching every one right now. I'm very invested in this. Starscreamapillar This feels strongly like that horse show... thenightetc Sigh. thenightetc Why did they look surprised Me Greta, just eat the other vicious. thenightetc Why does Greta, the largest fish, not simply eat the others Me Then double in size and cover herself with tiny suitors who fuse with her and melt away until their gonads are all that's left. thenightetc I get the message here, but that's still not how underwater works thenightetc Neither is that Me That's not how any of this work. Especially bullying. Starscreamapillar Is that one fish dead? Me That one's free. Me ...That one down in the corner is haunting me with those eyes. I'm not clicking it. Not happening. Starscreamapillar You know you will. thenightetc Stop looking at us with those big ol eyes Me You got me. Me GAAAH! thenightetc Taht's not uncanny or anything That bird actually looked good! What gives thenightetc Did they spend all their budget on the bird? Me Why can't we have a short starring the bird and no one else? thenightetc Unconvincing takeoff, though Starscreamapillar That child is going to be murdered. thenightetc Jesus, his hair looks like a pile of leaves Danse Macabre? Me Oh dear. thenightetc Human necks definitely turn like that thenightetc I'm starting to think this is just someone's art project and not a PSA per se Me I hope their grade was bad. Me Unless they were being graded on the bird. I liked that bird. Well, that was dull. thenightetc Huh. Me There. We're ending tonight on the bird. Starscreamapillar Perfect. thenightetc Yes. Me Have a glorious rest of the evening, everyone! thenightetc You, too! And thank you for hosting all this. Starscreamapillar Until next time.