#...and an excuse to draw more of Roman ofc

[crazy-as-a-jaybird]

Jay, fully aware of her actions: I am just going to sit down and relax with this episode of my comfort show

Also Jay 44 minutes and 35 seconds later: FUCKDAMN IT COME FUCKING ON, JANUS AND ROMAN WERE RIGHT

[lookupthewordjokeinthedictionary]

Back at it again with another Sanders Sides fanart post. This time we have Roman drawing the others the way he sees them, plus a little bonus of my special details and him drawing himself again!!

(is it obvious that I love him?)

First have Virgil drawn by Roman!! He gave him pointy elf ears because he loves him he has an affinity for woodland mythical creatures. I chose that one famous Virgil picture of Thomas on his chair, you know the one. I also gave Virgil some piercings, went a little bold. Ofc Roman wouldn't dare hide Virgil's beautiful big eyes behind his bangs, so they are a little more sparce.

Next we have Patton, and am I proud of this one!! Funny how Roman drew Patton so when you first see this drawing you think he's happy looking at you but instead his gaze turns more and more critical the more you look back. Hmm. Pretty sure that's just nothing. Roman drew everyone a little bigger than they drew themselves, however he didn't draw Patton any arms (totally not because he's tired of being manipulated by him)

Moving on, we have Logan!! Another dissapointed face, poor Logan, he must be dealing with Roman wayy too much. His hair is still neat but not as neat and Roman has definitely taken note of something lurking in the background.

Remus is always very fun to draw, but even though he lacks the mean look of my previous post, he is as unsettling looking as ever before. You could be naive enough to attribute his blackened fingers to paint (it's blood though) and you could also try to make up an excuse about me not knowing how to draw mouths (very true) but he does have a creepy dark smile. All of that, of course, according to Roman. I do appreciate how he drew him in his jazz "Jeffrey Dahmer" pose though, he still can recognise his brother's creativity.

Ah, Janus, our favourite lying fibber. Roman has an affinity for threatics, because he really accentuated that "dark" side of our favourite...side. His eyes are sharp and jydgy and instead of hands, he is given his beautiful snakes on his right arm. One with a halo on, one with some evil sparks. Totally nothing to look at here. (Also love how he gave all dark sides a little winged eyeliner, including Virgil)

If the previous post was about how Roman would draw himself, this one is probably how Roman would draw himself if no one was around. Instead of having a regal appearance and a side profile, he's all badazzled with imperfect sparks on his (badly) drawn fingertips. His outfit is a mess, his hair is curlier than anyone's but he smiles so so much. Poor boy just wants to let his creativity free. (he doesn't know in order to do that, he will need the help of his brother). It's a canon event, you can't interfere.

[screampied]

well, hello there. (read as lady dimitrescu’s voice)

ok, vegas, you interacted with my account…again. love, i think you’re ought to find out who i am before we can even smell october 1st. so cute that you think i’m sweet, because whenever i re-read what i wrote for you im like “oh, that’s not…that’s weird”. i also think you are very sweet! i’m intimidated with people, so indeed i took the opportunity of being high and loose and approachable to send you that first ask.

i think being a whore for ghostface is as easy as saying it’s name. the masks stays on!! do i mean sex or the killing? both? yes. hm, moving along, what’s you favorite ghostface? mine would be stu and jill.

oh, oHH. ok but toji removing the mask, slowly, and the first thing you see is his scarred lips with that smirk. like stfu, i’ll show him a scream. and geto. that man is my lawfully husband, and picturing him with that knife is doing stuff to me. blood on his face, like in hidden inventory, passing his thumb to try and clean it…mshdhdjdjdk fainted

sam as ghostface would’ve been predictable, but it would still be cool. i think they could take a different approach with her. while everyone is scared shitless because a knew killer has show up, she would be excited because-well, she can kill now. again and again, with the excuse of saving her friends and sister. maybe might even kill someone by “mistake” who knows. i think it would be nice, i like the idea of the good character going a lil crazy crazy.

the thing about sidney is that they won’t have the courage to kill her. literal mother of the final girls. but… dale? yeah, i’m bracing myself and praying for her poor little soul.

yes!! they were right in what they did and the ones that loses are the directors. the movie won’t do good at all without them, so must likely they will comeback, as we say in my country, “the sorry dog comes back” as in the directors are the sorry dog, with tail in between their legs.

between cars and bikes im more inclined to cars, but bikers and drivers? ugh, i’m sold to the bikers. sukuna is the type of guy to go to street races just for the fun of nearly dying (in a modern world, of course). i picture a red vintage car with black flames draw in it. oh he would so sexy, he is sexy. others i can see in street race is toji (of course, he bets all the time) and suguru. idk this trinity can have me anytime any day anywhere.

SHUT UP HUNGER GAMES IS SO FUCKING COOL

i used to be a divergent person, but hunger games has grow in my heart. finnick and peeta forever the best boys, suzanne collins cooked with them. and then she fucking burned it with finnick’s. still not over it, how come gale is alive???

jokes aside, i actually fuck with her writing so much, because it’s true, there is no actual victory in a war, we lose too much to be able to live through it. too much nightmares and death.

i’m reading a fanfic set in the hunger games universe, nearly as many words as in the bible, and it’s so fucking good. the author wrote the aftermath of the games perfectly, the rebellion, missions, the games itself. it’s everything.

yapping is done, question of the day is favorite movie and favorite music? see ya!!

nut anon

SLLLAAAY

nutty pook i rly enjoy our long chats i just wanna let u know that 🫡. also the lady dimitrescu voice ????? stawp. do you play resident evil oh now that game is my shit.

LOLLLL DID I. i swear it’s not intentional man. maybe it’s fate 🧿🧿 you think im sweet omg ty AAAAH.

sex with ghostface where the mask stays on is actually cry FUCKKK IM GONNA WRITE THAT. october is gonna bring out the slut in my writing istg. ooooh my fav ghostface ?? probably jill and roman. i love amber too, but billy ofc.

GHOSTFACE TOJIIII DONT DO THIS TO ME. he’s so do that, don’t mind me im writing this down 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️. real they can’t kill the baddest bitch, the whole franchise is nothing without mother.

sukuna as a street racer ID CREEWWAM. i literally saw a sukuna car at the race i went to. i had many interesting thoughts ……. kuna def bets ur so right, toji too with his broke ass.

KEKFLGLHL I LOVE THG ITS SO GOOD. do you like the movies or books better? i like the books but the movies slap

fav movie uhhhhh legally blond, fav music psychedelic pop and indie !!!!

[thoriffix]

fuck it. heathers au idea dump time

ok so. in this au we got:

roman as veronica

logan as jd

janus as heather chandler

remus as heather duke

virgil as heather mcnamara

patton as martha

character thomas as ms fleming

remy and emile as kurt and ram

now, ok. that doesnt make sense, i hear you cry, and i say hear me Out.

roman as veronica: roman and veronica r both desperate to be important, popular and loved. theyre also both a little bit horny and impressed by fighting prowess, with a lil bit of snark to round it out. hes also excellent and good and ofc hes gonna be the lead have you Met roman

logan as jd: ok at first glance this doesnt make sense, But. jd deliberately numbs his emotions because he doesnt want to experience them... sounds familiar hmm? rage is also the emotion logan expresses most violently and most often, and fuck if jd isnt full of rage damn i also want an excuse for logan to wear eyeliner and have the right to go a little bit feral, let him LOOSE! plus jd is generally one of da more knowledgeable characters, w the most references to literature and the ability to make a bomb, which idk ig thats kinda smart?

janus as heather chandler: in thomases own words "hes like the main mean girl" dude hes a shady bitch and hes not afraid to show it in canon hes manipulated roman into being on his side (i know i know hes getting better dont lecture me he is one of my favs) and i jus feel like he fits chandlers sass and Prestige most of all

remus as heather duke: ok, ignoring the most obvious point of The Duke being heather Duke, all remus seems to want is to be heard and listened to, which ties in nicely with dukes constantly being told to shut up wouldnt you say? also, if you can look me in the eyes and tell me remus isnt the most likely to sing shine a light reprise i dont trust you

virgil as heather mcnamara: i talked about this briefly before, but virgil as mcnamara just makes sense to me, cuz like ok. virgil can be sassy and mean as much as the next guy, but at his core hes just scared of not fitting in, and feels uncomfortable and anxious about his place, which like. reflects on mcnamaras fear of being kicked out of the heathers yknow? also, i have strong feelings about him singing lifeboat dont @ me

patton as martha: look. look. marthas character is based around a desire to go back to when things were easy and she didnt have to worry so much. sounds pretty similar to patton "things were so much easier when you were younger" sanders, eh?? also im weak for patton and roman being childhood best friends

character thomas as ms fleming: ok this is sort of where my reasoning starts to fall apart, but like,, he sort of has the most authority over the sides i guessss???

remy and emile as kurt and ram: yeah ok so maybe this is where my airtight reasoning runs out but. remile is a pretty popular ship considering the two have literally never met and yeah emile might be way out of character but honestly i have the least attachment to them hskfhskfh if anyone has any better concepts for remy and emile pls tell me

ok thats all i got!!! might draw patton sometime soon otherwise im jus gonna sprinkle it in here n there (id lov to make animatics but thats sm work) i hope u like it :]

[lizord-lord]

Splashing, Wading, Knee-Deep, Drowning

(Back once more with the next chapter! I’m still vaguely on schedule right? Counts if I wrote like 2 and a half pages today in a weird frenzy and now this page is a bit longer than the others but it’s ok because more is great? Wait I don’t even remember why I missed some days of writing why is my memory this bad ANYGAY! For once you have a chapter that @poisonedapples my shitbling and beta did not yell at me for, in fact, it actually has ROMAN!!! *cheering* I mean..My Virgil privileges got revoked...kinda had to..his dialogue is hilarious and I think my writing got more flower it’s great. Onwards!)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Five

Warnings: Um...some angst and shit, emotional numbness, death mentions ofc, talk of grief? But this is more of a lighthearted chapter compared to......everything else lmao.

Chapter Four

One month later and about three chapters earlier

Roman’s intention had been to slip into the castle, change, and escape to the woods with his crossbow as soon as the last guest had taken their leave.

But, as he stood beside his mother and watched Duchess Valerie’s carriage roll off into the distance over the green hills, it was made clear that that particular wish would not be granted, as the first thing his mother did when he turned to pick up the cloth-wrapped bow from where it lay on top of a stone bench was reach to tightly grip his shoulder.

“Roman. We still have things to do.”

The prince’s shoulders slumped, and his hand fell back to his side. He’d hoped otherwise..and yet past experience told him not to be surprised.

“..does it have to be now?” He heard a sigh from behind him before his mother turned him to face her.

“Yes, it does, because if you pick up that bow you’ll run off and I won’t see you until sunset, and by then your head will be so far up in the clouds you won’t be able to even see the ground to determine where to step next. Come inside.”

Roman knew what would come next. He’d step inside and be dragged off to some meeting or other. A meeting where they’d speak of the king’s death. The king’s, not his father’s. It’d be glossed over as his ascension was spoke of, as wills were discussed, and it would even be better if he could scream, if he could yell about how disrespectful that was, how he needed time. That’s how it was in every story he’d read, in every play he’d seen, the grieving protagonist would fall to their knees and sob, lament, bargain with the gods to bring their loved ones back.

And yet not a single tear had clouded his eyes since he found out of his father’s passing.

If the situation hadn’t been so extreme he likely would have tossed out a quip about turning into Logan. But that would just be cruel, no, he just..could feel nothing. It frightened him. The bow was like a lantern, a single spot of light he could clutch to give him some sort of understanding, of sight in the endless fog he walked through, and the depths of the forest was the only place where things seemed clear. They belonged together. He belongs there, where no person could protest or tell him he needed to be doing anything differently.

By all means he should protest, tell his mother he didn’t want to be walled in by white, lifeless marble and pale stone.

But when he opened his mouth, what came out was “Okay.” Because he could see two things in her eyes, one of which being determination, the other being sorrow.

She could feel it, even if he couldn’t.

He didn’t hurt. She did. If she needed them..it was his duty to be there.

So he let her take the bow, and followed through the gate.

The arching windows normally spilled the golden light of afternoon through to cast a glow on the perfectly polished floors. But now, the normally brilliant crimson curtains had been replaced with black velvet drapes, the light blocked out so the halls no longer felt bright and comforting, but grim and hopeless.

It only made his numb heart feel cold. At one point his mother turned down a hall to the room that used to be his father’s and now was only hers, and Roman kept walking, almost bumping into a pillar on the way to his own bedroom. When he pushed open the wooden door, he didn’t even take a moment to appreciate the way the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling window behind his four-poster, crimson and gold draped bed brightened the room, washing away the gloom that the halls had cast over his shoulders. Because it had already attached itself to him, and the dull listlessness Roman felt showed in his movements. They were stiff and automatic, close the door, draw the curtains shut, step to his immense wardrobe and change. Not into the forest-green attire he wore to go out and hunt as he longed to, or even to his typical style of white and crimson. No, from the fancy black suit covered in glittering buttons and silver embroidery into a no less dark and gloomy, but slightly comfier alternative. He took longer than usual too, staring at nothing as he laced up his boots. The solitude did nothing for his mind.

When Prince Roman stood up, clad head to toe in the black of mourning that was still so prettily designed that it felt like a show he for once did not wish to play a part in, he did not feel like the title suited him.

For the next three days, Roman’s mind remained in quiet turmoil. He was shuffled from room to room, kept from the outdoors where he longed to escape, weighted down by responsibility and the constant reminder of what had happened. Normally his mind would be his respite, but it had grown gray with grief, and with him unable to seek revival, his usual fantasies were unreachable. He’d half stop paying attention during the discussion of wills, of letters of sorrow sent by frauds nobles who hadn’t been able to make the funeral. The only discussions he really remembered were those of the dreaded wife, which he usually managed to shut down and escape from. One such incident had just occurred, with him offering a rather poorly put-together excuse of needing to polish his sword and fleeing to his room, where he sat on the bed, head bowed, golden circlet feeling like a mountain pushing it down towards his clasped hands.

He could have sat like that for minutes or hours, face totally blank, when someone knocked at his door.

His first thought was that his mother had pursued him to continue the dreaded conversation, and he began to make a beeline for the closet to hide (although to be honest that was the last place he needed to be at the moment) but the voice that came through was not his mother’s. Rather, the voice was younger and stiff. Formal. “Your highness, the Count Veritas is here to seek audience with you.”

Roman’s thoughts of burying himself in cloaks immediately halted, along with his feet. “Let him in.” The door opened, and the count stepped inside the shaded space, pushing aside the blue fabric of his half-cape to offer a slight bow.

“Good afternoon my prince, I hope you are doing decently.” Roman threw a nearby coat on his face.

The noble yelped indignantly as he pushed the offending garment off, while Roman only laughed.

“Come on, Scroll Under the Bridge, still being so formal?” He revoked that opinion after the coat was launched back in his face.

Once the red cloth was no longer obscuring his vision, he was able to look up and see Logan Veritas’s folded arms and smug grin. Huffing, he tossed the jacket on the ground.

“So, you wanted to talk to me?”

The certainty in Logan’s demeanor seemed to falter for a second, but was quickly masked as he pushed his spectacles up his nose and resumed his previous pose.

“Yes, I did. You know, to see if you were doing alright, converse and such..” he spotted the count’s gray eyes flicker around the room. To the drawn curtains, the slightly messy corners, the black clothes on both Roman’s person and the ones tossed carelessly on his bed, which meant he hadn’t let any servants in, and lingering for a noticeable moment on the mahogany surface of his writing desk-completely clean and clear.

“Listen if you needed to vent. That sort of thing.”

There was silence between them for a moment. Roman could see Logan clearly taking advantage of that to scrutinize his posture and facial expression (which was no doubt drawn up and tense) for any clues of his mood. Yet he wouldn’t have to do that for long.

The prince’s shoulders slumped, and he almost felt the title roll off of them. Finally. He knew Logan wasn’t really...the best person to go to when he was having emotional issues. But he was all he had, the only friend he really had around his own age. Who wasn’t, you know, ordered to agree with him on basically everything.

Plus, sometimes, in times of great distress, having a more objective viewpoint was good.

But for now, Roman just took five steps to his right and slumped on the end of his bed, the same position he had been in before Logan arrived. He heard a sigh from the door, and a moment later, he felt the bed dip. The count had sat beside him. More silence as Roman compiled his thoughts, rubbing his left palm with the thumb of his right, switching, rubbing his wrists..

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“...it doesn’t?” He’d expected that much confusion. “No! It doesn’t. It doesn’t hurt at all, but it..” Roman trailed off, eyes darting across the floor as he searched for the words, just to make himself heard, he brought his hand up to rub his temples but ended up running it through his hair, gripping hard and tugging on his bangs. How could he explain? Dammit, why did poetry never come when you need it! He knew Logan would understand that! It was a language they both spoke, even when their own could not quite convey the thoughts!

Roman tossed his hands into the air, admitting defeat.

“It just doesn’t hurt!! It should, I know it should, I should be weeping, I should be bawling, he’s-he’s my father for goodness sake but I just..I just can’t! Everything is-everything’s just-” “Numb?” “.....yes.” Roman’s hands dropped. He buried his face in them, dammit the word had been on the tip of his tongue and it was just so simple! He was a mess.

Around the middle of a very long, very loud, very dramatic groan, the prince felt a hand move to rest in between his shoulder blades and slowly begin to rub circles into his back. The touch was light, hesitant, yet fluid.

And it felt nice.

It was a moment after his troubled mind had ebbed a bit when he heard Logan’s quiet voice again, slow and deliberate. He knew that tone; uncertainty that his words would be well received.

“...the grieving process is different for everyone. It seems, by your own description, that you are experiencing shock. You...you likely will fall into the depressive states later in the grieving process, but for now there isn’t much you can do to speed it up. Your mind needs time to fully work through and understand what has happened, and the only thing I know of that can help it do that is to spend some time clearing your head. Then it is a matter of if the other emotions—either rage or despair, hit you during a time of calm or a time of reflection. They commonly come suddenly. But they will come..and there’s nothing wrong with being unable to fully grasp the weight of losing a loved one in the immediate aftermath of it happening.”

A dry smile pulled at the prince’s lips.

“Did you learn that in a book, My dear scho-lord of the library?” He lifted his head up slightly from his hands, just in time to catch the look that flitted across Logan’s face, a twitch of his lips and unfocused eyes, just for the moment it took to let out a puff of air.

“My aunt, actually.”

“Ah.”

Roman remained in that position for a second to process. The physical contact, however small, did help. And so did the words, now that he let them sink in.

“I haven’t been out of the castle grounds since the day before..” he admitted with a sigh, trying to straighten his posture. Logan made a dissatisfied noise, pursing his lips.

“Did your mother not let you?” Roman nodded with a sigh. “No! She’s kept me here, with wills and letters and plans! It’s like-it’s like he wasn’t even a person..” his head fell back into his hands, words he had only felt in vague bursts of frustration spilling from his lips. “All anyone’s worried about is how to run the kingdom without him…he was my dad too! But no one cares about that, all I’ve gotten is those damn pitying glances! Not a single ‘I’m sorry’ since the funeral, not even from my own mother!! It’s like she’s trying to pretend it didn’t happen! It’s not-aaargh!” He threw his hands up into the air, feeling Logan’s hand fall off his back as he toppled backwards onto the soft mattress. “It’s not fair..”

“..hm. So it was the latter.” “...huh?” Roman peeked up from between his fingers that he had dramatically pressed over his eyes, confused. Logan explained. “The latter. Of my earlier statement, you were hit with anger at a time of self-reflection.” The curiosity vanished from Roman’s face like a child sneaking cake when the baker comes.

“That is literally one of the least helpful things you could have said.”

The count rolled his eyes. “It was only an observation..” “We were having a moment and you ruined it!” “I ruined it? I was only commenting on an earlier statement!” the count huffed, and Roman opened his mouth to come up with another (quite stinging and witty mind you!) retort..and then let it fall closed. He threw one hand over his eyes, sighing loudly. “Oh, it’s not worth it..”

“What, not in the mood to call me out for ‘having the emotional intelligence of a brick wall?’” The tone was tinging on playful, yes, but there was real worry and surprise there. Apparently, it was that statement that brought back Logan’s concern. Roman never yielded in an argument.

“No..what am I going to do Logan! I’m being locked away like a damsel in distress, I can’t just stay here for however many weeks it will take for everything to get sorted out..”

“..have you tried asking your mother? Telling her that this is taking a toll on you?” Logan offered, albeit lamely. He received a scoff in response.

“Of course! I very nearly begged her yesterday, and the witch refused me sanctuary! I am truly Rapunzel, locked away in stone, doomed to never let my face or magnificent locks see the sun! Clearly my only option is to run away from these dark cl-” Roman sat up suddenly, and Logan was filled with dread. That was a very bad place to stop that sentence.

“...how did I not think of that before! I’ll simply sneak out!”

Well, at least he could say he knew his friend..he also knew that his next words would be blatantly ignored.

“That is a very bad plan-”

But as predicted, the prince had already leapt off his bed and was racing to the closet, diving right to the bottom of his dresser and pulling out an ensemble much different from his usual color scheme of blinding white and scarlet. This was a tweed jacket in a shade of dull green, the trousers a dark brown. Brown leather boots-far less shiny than his usual polished black ones, were pulled out after-and Logan didn’t get to see what happened next, having to turn around due to the excited prince currently having no sense of decency and changing right there.

“It’s already evening, so I’ll just sneak out through the kitchens..maybe grab a snack too-” Logan heard the sound of fabric over skin and slight rustling, that must be Roman buttoning the jacket- “-and no one will even notice I’m gone! And I can finally test out that crossbow, eh Logan?”

The count blinked. Actually taken aback that the prince had remembered he was here.

“I suppose, is it safe to turn around now?” From the thud of a boot that he heard behind him and the offended gasp (he didn’t even need to look to know Roman had placed his hand to his chest as if wounded) Logan could infer that yes, it was. Though his lack of doing so brought out another comment.

“Are you saying you don’t want to ogle at my amazingly chiseled physique?” “Yes,” he replied in his flattest and most disinterested voice. “Logan, you wound me!”

“You didn’t answer my question.” “....yes, it’s safe to turn around..if my fabulous muscles sicken you that much,” the prince huffed, and Logan did finally turn around. The hunting outfit was rather tight-fitting—of course it was, as Roman had just proven, he would go to any end to show off his good looks even to bears in the forest. And just as predicted, he looked as deeply offended as if Logan had just told him he was descended from trolls.

When there was no retort from the count, Roman just crossed his arms, close to pouting like a petulant child.

“Well anyway, as I was saying, I can finally test out that crossbow you gave me, and no one should even notice I’m gone!”

“Not even the guards? Who should have been extra alert after having so many guests and with the usual structure of command gone?” The prince seemed to deflate slightly, a frown creasing his face—but almost immediately he perked up again. “Well then I’ll head through the garden, they don’t post too many guards there and even if I’m caught I can just say I was smelling the roses!”

“And if they question your outfit?” Logan challenged once more, folding his arms over the dark fabric of his shirt. But Roman was ready this time.

“I’ll tell them I didn’t want to get any dirt on my regular clothes. Plus, even if they don’t believe me, it’s not like I’m forbidden from leaving the grounds, just...highly discouraged by my mother and she hasn’t exactly told the guards to keep me inside! I am still the prince, I just don’t want her catching wind.”

Logan slowly nodded. For once, his friend seemed to have thought this out. Maybe it wouldn’t end in disaster.

The key word was maybe.

“I assume you’re going to run off right now?”

“Well that was the plan—not much sunlight left after all!” Roman bounced on his heels excitedly, glancing out the window, which, though mostly covered by curtains, had a line of golden light streaming through that easily indicated it was getting to be late evening.

Logan nodded, and then stood up. “Well, then either my efforts succeeded or failed horribly, I’ll have to see.”

Roman waved a hand dismissively, a cocky grin sliding easily onto his face. “Oh come on now Count Veri-blah, I’m feeling better already! Now get out of here and don’t tell anyone!” Said noble rolled his eyes to the heavens at the nickname, and the indication that he would rat on his friend about something that clearly meant a lot to him. He let Roman wave him towards the door, though opened it himself.

“Fine, but I’ll be back  soon and when I do you’d better be here, and without a squirrel hidden under your bed.” He grinned slightly as Roman huffed-a nerve he remembered. “That was one time okay? And it was injured!” “From what I remember hearing news of, it escaped and you decided to chase it around the castle for two hours.”

“Wha-well I had to protect the people who might be scared of rodents!!”

The grin was spreading now. “Perhaps, but I don’t think that was the message everyone else got, again, the rumor I heard was that you referred to the squirrel as ‘Mrs. Fluffybottom’ and were crying ‘don’t you love me’ as it attempted to escape down to the kitchens.”

“I, ugh—that...well that was a rumor!” Roman sputtered, “You would trust a rumor more than I, your dear friend?”

“Indubitably,” Logan deadpanned, and closed the door behind him.

“Well goodbye to you too,” the prince mumbled through the thick door, stalking back to his bed and sitting down on it with a pout. He’d have to wait a bit to go out, but honestly, the nerve of that know-it-all! You’d think a friend of such caliber would care a bit more about his friend’s dignity!

Though, the prince could admit...it had been kind of him to come by.

So there was that, but still!

When those petulant thoughts had calmed, and it felt like had enough time had passed, Roman stood. Pushing the curtains back slightly confirmed that he would have to act fast if he wanted to get maximum daylight—which he was already wasting! The prince straightened his shoulders. A grin formed on his face as he strode back to the closet, but this time to the corner where his weapons were stored.

First, he picked up the scabbard for his sword, buckling the black belt around his waist in a smooth, practiced motion, the familiar weight of the weapon settling easily against his left him. And then for a less familiar weapon-the crossbow. He’d used them before of course, but only to an extent, and of course, any new weapon would be strange to wield at first, no matter the type.

He carefully lifted up pale bow, then the sling he’d smuggled in from the armory the day before (what, he wanted to be prepared) making sure he would be able to easily remove the weapon before slinging the leather strap over his shoulder.

It was at this point he realized that he would not be able to pass off his venture as ‘smelling the roses’ when he was clearly armed.

Hm.

Well he wasn’t going to give up now, dammit! He’d just have to not get caught. And that would be easy!

Confidence restored as easily as a knife through butter, Roman turned and left the closet, removing the golden circlet on his head and placing it carefully by his bedside, before easing open the door and slipping out into the quiet hall.

Lady luck smiled upon Roman that day, for he managed to get to the kitchens without anyone seeing him. Of course once he arrived there wasn’t any hiding from the chefs preparing dinner, and what with there not having been a ‘family meal’ since the death of his father, they were not as focused on being perfectly on time as usual. But he was the prince. While guards might question him, all it took was a wink and a finger to his lips to keep questions from coating the air as he slipped out the door the cooks used as a shortcut to the piles of firewood outside.

Roman breathed in the fresh air gratefully, but his smile faded slightly as he passed under the arch that led to the garden. The numb cold settled in as his leather boots padded along the same marble tiles that the shoes of funeral goers had walked along only days earlier, as his eyes landed upon cut flowers that had dropped from bouquets and had found their way into blooming bushes, as he passed the marble table that a casket had laid on.

Roman stopped.

He grasped his wrist in his left hand, eyes dropping to the ground.

And then he frowned.

I am not going to linger on a lack of feeling.

That was the whole point of getting away. As hard as it was to lift up his chin and resume his path towards the opposite arch, he must do it. This was his escape! None of this existed out in the woods, he’d been numb and hopeless for days! No more. He was getting away.

Sorrow would come in time.

It took him a moment. Two. Three. And then Roman’s feet were moving again, down the path and to the archway that led him to the woods.

He strode out into the open-or would have, if he hadn’t noticed a guard passing by him at that very moment. He yanked himself back into the garden and ducked back behind the gently sloped wall of stones the obscured the garden from the outside, and he must have not been noticed, as the guard did not follow.

Another two minutes passed there, the prince with his back against the wall, until he dared another peek. Nothing. Sighing in relief, Roman adjusted the strap over his shoulder and was off, making sure his footsteps were quick and light against the grass. It was only thirty steps to the edge of the woods from the archway, and he cleared it without discovery, ducking his head below a branch and pushing into the forest.

This was home.

Roman breathed in the scents of the woods, the musty scent of mushrooms, the damp earth, the sweet scent of the few spring flowers that bloomed as well as the crisper grasses and young herbs that poked from under bushes and between the roots of trees. And he listened. His footsteps, near-silent with practice, were yet a steady pattern, one foot lightly placed down toe first, any rigid twig wormed under the arch of his foot where his weight would not snap it, and repeat. It was not the swiftest way of movement by any means, but with as much practice following the trails of these woods as he had, he made decent time. And the silence was important. As he was both less likely to draw attention from unsuspecting prey or predator, he could listen.

His ears caught the faint trickle of a nearby stream, the happy song of a few birds, a rustling-he paused. Something small, a rabbit perhaps, but it fell silent before he could pinpoint the sound. No matter.

Roman strode through the forest with a newfound joy, a proud grin on his face and determination in bright hazel eyes that swept the undergrowth for prey like a hawk. And yet, even as he strode deeper into the wood, and the brush beneath his feet began to thicken and his pace was forced to slow, he’d only drawn his crossbow on a rabbit that quickly scampered away.

Bad luck.

But Roman kept his thoughts optimistic, even as the light that filtered between the dark leaves overhead and scattered dappled patterns over the forest floor shifted from gold to orange, and continued on ever deeper, and just slightly quicker. He wanted to catch something before getting back! And he would, he certainly would. However, getting lost in positive thoughts is still getting lost in thought, and despite the good intentions..it led the prince’s mind to wander. Images of shooting down a deer or even some more dangerous beast, like a wild boar, or even something more fantastical, like a kelpie or a troll were playing in front of his eyes rather than reality, where the orange glow was fading slightly and rough bark brushed up against his broad shoulders.

At least until his searching right boot found a fallen tree rather than smooth footing, and he toppled forward with a very undignified yelp, throwing his hands forward to stop his face from smacking into the dirt but not in time to spare his knees from banging against the log.

Roman grunted loudly in pain, gritting his teeth. Okay. No more daydreaming in the woods...ow…

Groaning, the prince got to his feet, dusting dirt off his palms and grimacing at the scrape along the heel of his left hand, then wiping them on his trousers, which were luckily still intact. Dirty, but at least he wouldn’t have to get them sewn up.

When he took his next step, there were a few things brought to his immediate attention. One-he must have banged his right kneecap, because it was throbbing like a fresh bruise (likely) and while it wasn’t agonizing, it was very unpleasant, and even more so due to having been inflicted by a simple log. How embarrassing.

But wounded knees and pride was..not the most important at the moment. As when Roman looked up, and then around, he noticed that the canopy was so thick only the barest hints of sunlight peeked through, and that the trees around him were too thick to put his arms around, along with being set close and dense. The flowers had disappeared too, the wood he knew, green and lush and fragrant with springtime blossoms and filled with animals big and small, had been replaced with a dark, constricting forest that stretched what felt like miles above his head with not an animal or spot of color in sight-except for the minimal patches of fading sunlight.

Oh...dear.

For a moment, Roman’s chest clenched with fear, not only did was he unsure of where he’d come from, but the whole atmosphere of the wood sent a slight chill up his spine.

But no! This was not how a prince should behave when confronted with a foreboding forest.

They’re just trees. And if they happen to be hiding beasts, well that’s what I came to find some anyway! This is just a little change of plan.

No need to be afraid.

So he strode on, but noticeable kept his hand on the pommel of his sword. Bravery could not diverge into recklessness after all..he’d learned that many times the hard way. And he remembered to watch his step.

For another indefinite while, he stepped through the dark wood at a pace only a tad slower than his previous, the slight nervousness in his gut only serving to tune his reflexes (or so he liked to tell himself). But soon, he noticed just a tad more light filtering through the branches. Relief was unavoidable, along with the instinct to follow it. Roman’s steps came faster, harder, until he was almost running, and he breathed a large sigh when at last the shadows parted.

He stood at the edge of what he had assumed was a clearing-but no, this seemed to be the edge of the woods for at least some extent, as while the branches still stretched, intertwined fingers reaching for the sinking sun, the trunks either leaned out over the soft grass or stood as tall as ever, but with the exception of a few, none sprouted beyond this point.

That made sense, for as he had noticed, the undisturbed rass before him was not that of a simple hole in the woods, but the bank of a magnificent lake that gleamed with reds, oranges, and golds reflecting of its mirror-like surface, the reflections of dark trees unblurred on the water.

It was beautiful.

Roman stepped forward as if trapped in a trance, kneeling by the shore and carefully dipping his hand into the water. It was cool and almost clear, and he quickly scooped some into his hands for a drink.

He could have sat there, watching the sunset and gazing at the last rays of sunlight now dipping below the horizon for however long it took for the sky to fade to black, and likely would, if not for the shape that appeared around what he would call a corner for now—this section of the lake was further inland than the rest, like a pond attached to the main body, and there was must lake to the left and right of it he could not see.

It was a bird of some sort, silhouetted black against the last light of sunset, and a grin appeared on Roman’s face, so he might have a chance of catching something after all! Well, first he had to rush back to the cover of the shadows, but the bird had not seemed to notice his rush. Nor the slight sounds of the prince lifting the crossbow from his back and loading in a bolt.  It swam across the lake to step onto the shore, and it was then that he realized the bird was in fact a swan, and not silhouetted either, oh no, every feather on its body was black as the night about to fall.

Roman raised the bow-and then stopped. A second thought flitted across his mind, this animal was truly something else, would it be right to kill it for something like a trophy? It wasn’t like he needed the meat..he bit his lip, lowering the weapon ever so slightly, and the swan stood there, as if trapped in the moment just like he was, its face turned towards the faintest light still left on the lake, as it faded, darkened, and the water was left black.

But he’d been looking all evening and found nothing! Sure, it might feel a bit better to have found a more common animal in a moral sense, but at the same time what a glorious bird! And he might actually make a kill. Surely it was—no, it was worth it. So Roman raised the bow again, finger on the trigger-

And then he went so still you could have sworn he’d caught sight of a cockatrice.

For the bird..it wasn’t quite a bird anymore. Or if it was it must be magic, for as the darkness swallowed its black form and silver light replaced gold on its feathers, it grew.

And yet it didn’t grow into a larger bird. Its body slimmed and neck shrunk, and Roman watched with both awe and a veiled sense of apprehension as it shifted size and shape, he was sure it would become a fae of some sort, like those shape-changers he’d read about, faeries that lured in prey—be it animal or human—with the shape of creatures that drew them in, only to change to their true form of an eyeless figure that hung with moss and swallow them whole, but that was not what happened.

No.

Feathers did not fade into stringy black hair, the beak did not stretch into hundreds of needle-like teeth, instead, black plumage faded both to pale skin and dark cloth, wings shrung to arms and stick-like legs thickened.

Before him was a young man.

A young man dressed in a shabby black jacket that had been repeatedly patched with what looked to be some dull purple fabric, matching dark trousers that had thin rips over the knees, and with hair only a few shades darker than his own that hung over his eyes.

Roman gasped—and the man’s head whipped around—he didn’t know what he’d expected, but he did know it wasn’t black smudges under piercing brown eyes. Somehow, the stranger was as hauntingly beautiful as a human as he had been as a swan. And now he was staring straight into Roman’s eyes, and the prince was about to open his mouth to (to what, introduce himself? Ask what the stranger was?) when the man reached into his jacket, and he realized he was seeing this all in a slow, entranced vision.

The blade of a silver knife just barely missed Roman’s cheek, thrown with terrifying strength and precision that buried itself in the tree behind him.

“WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING WITH THAT THING!?”

(Roman makes me write so many italics WHY MUST TUMBLR NOT READ ITALICS AAAAA! But anyway, they finally meet! And yes you two, pointing weapons at each other, great. First. impressions. *slow claps*. But I am proud of all the platonic Logince in this chapter because it’s my shit and just. Yes. Now I hope I can keep this up?)

Tags: @royallyanxious @whatwashernameagain  @sandersmarvel @the-incedible-sulk @supremestoverlord @hanramz-the-fander @childhood-wishes-and-dreams @thestoryoferissur @nepturanus-thy-planet @anony-phangirl @pleasebringmerlinback @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @applecannibal @super-magical-wizard @unicornlogan @annonymmm

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

Candy Cane Chaos

Angel’s 2017 Christmas Drabble #2 (Christmas Drabbles List)

Request: @feelmyroarrrr: Can I request Gabriel and where did all my candy canes go? Characters: Gabriel and OFC: Eris Word Count: 770 Warnings: A horrible understanding on my part of the 1920s? Author’s Note: I’m in the middle of teaching The Great Gatsby right now. That’s my only excuse. ;)

In 1928 there was no place Gabriel liked more than New York City.

The metropolis was alive every night, with some of the best music and action that he knew he would ever see in his time on Earth—at least in this century.

Not to diss his time with the Romans… I mean, he would never forget where he’d picked up a taste for orgies, but still….

There was something about the 20s. The elicit gambling and speakeasies, jazz and the Harlem Renaissance, the flappers and big lights of the city; Gabriel didn’t think he’d ever get enough of it. Especially at Christmas when everyone’s generally loose morals got even more extravagant.

He pulled open the door to the penthouse he had willed into existence at the top of one of the nicest skyscrapers in the city, tapping the brim of his fedora and flipping it off into his palm, then spinning it across the room onto his hat rack, as was his habit.

But it bounced off instead.

Impossible.

Unless….

“Hello Loki. Long time, no strife.”

It only took Gabriel an instant to spot his intruder, lounging in his favorite chair across the room, the fringe of her period appropriate dress barely covering long legs as she snapped something between her teeth.

Well, he had been thinking about the Romans a moment ago.

“Eris. To what do I owe this visit?” He immediately took an inventory of his place, checking to make sure any tell-tale markers of his true identity were concealed and to see if she had disrupted any other part of his existence. The hot Grecian goddess had a talent of leaving chaos in her wake, but if you could stay beside or in front of her, she could actually be a fabulous party mate.

As he’d found out in Rome.

She stood up, moving with the fluid grace that no mortal could possibly possess, and Gabriel got a whiff of peppermint from her breath as she stepped closer. He smiled down at her as she coyly batted eyelashes up at him.

“Well, apparently this city is the place to be, and I’ve got some plans in the works. I’m trying something new this time.” She ran her fingers under the lapel of his suit jacket, then tiptoed them up his chest as she continued in a contralto. “Thought I’d stir up a little chaos with this new financial system they’re trying out here in America, and when I heard you were in town….”

He took a step back, his hand gripping hers and twirling her around, watching the skirt she wore flare out in response. Then Gabriel snapped his fingers to start a tune as he danced, dimming the lights except for the Christmas lights twinkling around the room.

“So you thought you’d look me up, see if I’d be interested in joining in?”

She nodded, her hips moving in sync with his and the jazz saxophone floating through the air.

“If I remember correctly, the last time we were together, it didn’t end so well… for us, or for the Mediterranean.” She smiled in fond remembrance as he spun her again, then slowed the dance a bit.

“I thought we proved quite clearly that we have different goals with our mischief. I enjoy seeing people pay for their prejudices and get a little comeuppance, and you—”

“I spread entropy and chaos because it’s fun. You remember fun, Loki?”

He had to admit she was striking with that banked insanity in her eyes, and he smiled, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to draw him into her whirlwind this time.

“Yes, I do,” he leaned his head next to her and whispered in her ear for emphasis, “and I remember that I don’t do well working with thieves either….”

She took a step back, and he let her do so, lowering the volume of the music as well.

“You, Loki, are calling me a thief?”

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “where did all my candy canes go, Eris?”

She rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers, causing more of the peppermint candy sticks to appear in the bowl by his chair.

“I forgot how huffy you get over the smallest things. I’ll be in town. Let me know if you change your mind.”

She trailed her hand over his cheek, then adjusted her necklace and gracefully walked for the door.

“See you around, Loki.”

He watched the epitome of chaos stride out of his life for what he knew would not be the first time, and Gabriel smiled. Sometimes he really enjoyed his pagan lifestyle.

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[jinglyjangly]

I don't know why people in the fallout fandom like to put down people who enjoy characters from ceaser's legion (not people who feel like what they do is right they just like the characters and vulpes furry jokes) It gets kinda annoying when you draw a character and people say your a rapist slaving bastard because of it. // I used to have a friend who would put my art down because I like to draw legion uniforms and they told me that I was a terrible person bc of it//

lol ive seen "why do people hate on fans of the bos but are fine with LEGION fans" been said and ever since then ive actually been wondering about it. and a lot of people saying how the (fo4) bos and institute are evil which is true...ish? theyre intended to be "morally grey" but bethesda is really shit at writing that. with how its presented, it really feels insincere and fake, like you know theyre fictional because they have no believable reason to be doing what theyre doing, especially the institute. how the institute is framed, theres no reason for them to enslave synths besides "just because we can". the legion on the other hand is very believable... in a sense. like taking it out of context ofc they look fucking ridiculous as roman larpers, but as an rpg game everything needs to have the same amount of depth given. NCR isnt morally perfect either, its more like good people doing bad things for a lawful cause. theyre given a multi-facedness. you see troopers who genuinely believe theyre doing good, but the NCR is still an imperialist democracy with questionable leadership.the legion mirrors that, and i think that freaks people out. theyre evil, but it makes sense. they have depth. you see, especially with ulysses, that the legion isnt just some one-faced evil faction with some mastermind behind it all, like how bethesda writes. what i hated about the institute is father tried to preach to the protagonist how theyre bettering mankind, how father is basically trying to "excuse" what theyre doing. caesar doesnt give a fuck, hes just some dumb asshole who found books and based a faction on it. an unapologetic society with a basis of institutional slavery, sexism/misogyny/rape, homophobia (homosexual acts are punishable by death in the legion) and ect is scary to people because its real life! so some prefer the black and white linear narrative where you are the hero who beats the bad guy and you dont have to think or question anything. that's not necessarily a bad thing to want, since making anything complex while still being evil can give breathing room to people who really are sympathetic while in the guise of "its fiction so its fine" kind of manor.but anyway, obviously if you're just like... ironically enjoying the legion, or even enjoy it for its complexity, its a different story. and of course just drawing them doesnt really deserve to being associated with believing in their practices and being harassed. but idk... i think people should probably be kinda careful about setting themselves up as the victim in this situation, and just keep reiterating their stance on things, because people have a good reason to be afraid of the "breathing room" the complex evil gives. tbh i love the complexity and mash up of ancient history and post apocalypse. making roman cosplay out of sports equipment is... an iconic look...

[a-panda-reads-act-omega]

ACT OMEGA PART 17

THE 04/02/17 UPDATE

Welcome to the... sixth update today? I hope this isn’t getting excessive. It probably is. OH WELL, i dont care. lets just hurry this up and GET ON WITH THIS SINGLE PAGE.

80%, huurrry up. I just realized, these updates are a LONG while apart, so this download probably is meant to represent how LONG they’d have to wait. There’s a flash for the 100th page, so im gonna assume thats what was eating up their time.

PLugging something in. Also, I just wanna mention how perfect Rose’s sassy pose is. John’s explaining more shit with Karkat, and DAD’s watching over appropriately.

Oh. Kanaya looks upset about something (could it be how rose was totally checkin jade out). Dirk looks confused, or just kinda like everybody’s missing something he thinks is obvious. Jade seems content. Jake is looking kinda insecure. Terezi still seems bothered by Vriska’s absense. Roxy and Calliope are smiling next to Dave’s neutral self. and OH. Looks like Hal plugged in the audio, because now we get to see a pesterlog!

or... bunnylog

JOHN: are we all good? JOHN: is that everything? DIRK: I really fucking hope so. JADE: yes, john JADE: thats everything

GOOD NOW GO GO GO!!!

JOHN: so i can finally, FINALLY open the stupid door? ROSE: Yes, again, John. The stupid door is yours for the opening. JOHN: anyone have any issues with the plan? TEREZI: W3 JUST T4LK3D 4BOUT 1T PR3TTY 3XT3NS1V3LY TEREZI: 1F SO TH3N TEREZI: TOUGH SH1T, 1 S4Y JOHN: so we're even good on all the weird ectobiology stuff?? KANAYA: I Reserve The Right To Alter My Stance On That At Any Time KANAYA: Though Not Necessarily Right Now

Hmm.. did Kanaya not want to use ectobiology for baby stuff? Or maybe she finds the mixing genes thing to be odd. Maybe she wanted to make baby’s the old fashioned way with rose ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

lenny looks weird on tumblr.

KARKAT: EXCUSE ME, *I* RESERVE THAT SAME RIGHT. KARKAT: BECAUSE APPARENTLY I’VE BEEN IMPLICATED IN THAT MESS SOMEHOW? KANAYA: Yes Precisely JOHN: that’s fine, i guess? JOHN: we have everything we need for that no matter what you decide, anyway. JOHN: earth is all de-flooded for sure, right jade? JADE: yeah! like i said before, i can even see my island back above sea level! JADE: or, rather, jakes island JAKE: Youre welcome to share it with me. JAKE: If you want. JAKE: Though i presume its somewhat different from the version you grew up on... JADE: aw! thanks, jake JADE: well see JADE: i definitely want to at least see the changes up close!

That could be awkward though! Jake doesn’t seem to be a people person, annnd... Well, Jade only just met him. Would it really be that great to live with somebody you’ve only just met? even if he is your grandpa. I just realized, the person Jake got along with the best was Tavros. And in another universe... Tavros fucking murdered Jake. Irony.

DAVE: i cant believe that reverse noahs ark scheme worked DAVE: well actually i can DAVE: this game would be in need of some serious balancing if it wasnt permissible by virtue of kicking so much ass DAVE: i mean think about it DAVE: were like DAVE: actually gods DAVE: and we just congregated on this circular platform and discussed how wed shape an entire civilization DAVE: except instead of taking six days we all had a quick thirty minute powwow and decided yeah this is probably good enough lets skip to the sabbath already DAVE: so maybe more like zeus and his pantheon on mt olympus or whatever

Dave dont get a god complex. thats all i have to say.

ROXY: lol ROXY: weve still got a long way to go before were all like ROXY: greco-roman levels of omnipodouche ROXY: though i bet that jade n i could def construct a marble palace 4 u john ROXY: on top of some ridiculously tall mountain ROXY: from which u can rule the skies and shoot lightning bolts from ur fingertips at pesky disobedient ectobabies

Yes, Jade and her need to build it together (I need some version of Jade Lalonde to come true dammit im sorry.)

JOHN: that sounds cool and all, but... JOHN: even if i could smite people, i don’t think i would! JOHN: i’d rather just get inside people’s heads and talk shit. JOHN: mwahahaha.

Ok yep youre adorable John, but now IM REALIZING YOU STILL HAVENT GONE THROUGH THE DOOR HURRY U P.

JADE: how diabolical! JADE: no palace for you, then JOHN: damn. JOHN: how about a dungeon? JADE: maaaaaybe :P CALLIOPE: oh! i think i know what stories yoU’re referring to! CALLIOPE: it does seem apropos, doesn’t it. CALLIOPE: does this mean that i have a place among the rest of yoU at the oUtset of this odyssey? ROXY: ofc it does! ROXY: ur like ROXY: an integral part! JANE: You know what? Callie, do you still have the book we were writing in earlier? CALLIOPE: Um. i think so. JANE: I think it would be perfect if you were our official scribe! JANE: You could keep record of everything so these important moments are preserved for future generations. CALLIOPE: !!! :U CALLIOPE: i woUld love that! ROSE: I did something somewhat similar over the course of the last three years. ROSE: It’s fairly therapeutic. CALLIOPE: oh? CALLIOPE: i might be a bit more aware of what yoU’re referring to than yoU know. ~_u CALLIOPE: therapUtic is right. ROSE: ... ROSE: If I’m understanding you correctly. ROSE: You and I are going to need to chat. ROSE: Specifically about private things that are best left out of the clutches of the impressionable coming ages. ROSE: Or, better yet, forgotten altogether. KANAYA: (I Disagree) ROSE: (Kanaya!) KANAYA: (Heh)

UGhh, you guys need to stop being cUTE AND OPEN THE DOOR.

IM sorry, how can I not get anxious when theres a fucking flash coming up, and everybody’s acting all happy.. .

CALLIOPE: of coUrse! CALLIOPE: thoUgh... no promises! CALLIOPE: i can hardly wait to get started on all this! DIRK: Yeah. I for one, would love to see myself in a history book. DIRK: Nothing better to stroke your own ego. DIRK: But in order for any of that to happen. DIRK: We should probably, you know. DIRK: Get on with it.

Thank you Dirk, listen to him he knows what’s up. This game is nothing but disaster after disaster, but most disasters come when everybodys being STUPID. so use your brains and open the door before somehow you all die due to a session in your new universe having such a powerful prototype ring that their queen and/or jack manages to get to your session and fuck you all up.

JOHN: oh. JOHN: yeah, you’re right. JOHN: damn it, we got side tracked again! TEREZI: W3LL 1F YOU DONT W4NT 1T TO H4PP3N 4G41N TEREZI: M4YB3 YOU SHOULD JUST OP3N TH3 STUP1D DOOR 4LR34DY! KARKAT: AND DO IT QUICKLY. NO DRAWING IT OUT! JOHN: okay, i’m opening it! JOHN: the moment we’ve all been waiting for-- KARKAT: WHAT DID I *JUST* SAY? JOHN: hehe! sorry, couldn’t resist. JOHN: for real this time. JOHN: here goes!

Here, FUCKIN GOES!

ughh theyre all gonna die... I guess we’ll see on the next update, so STAY TUNED FOLKS