#I will be quiet now and enjoy the race but eff. off.

[eirianerisdar]

Being from HK and forgetting that the anthem for the GP this weekend is that anthem and smashing the mute button because all that anthem reminds you of is 26 years of slow suffocating death and how you continue to be slowly asphyxiated every day

[earliebirb]

stevetony + "one person confesses when they think the other person thinks they're asleep BUT WAIT they're not actually asleep and heard the whole thing"? Thank you so much for your lovely fics, they always make my day and I love your style!! 💕💕💕

AAAAAAAH JEN. You’re too sweet! :(

Thank you so much for the prompt! I adore this prompt. Also, for some reason it turned into another vague college au??? More like vague no powers au with a sprinkle of college, but yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and I hope I did the prompt justice!

ignorance is (not) bliss

steve/tony, au: college, fluff, getting together, 2074 words 

“Come on, Tony. Let’s go.” 

Steve has an arm around Tony’s waist and one of Tony’s arm slung over his shoulder, guiding him step by step as they trudge their way home. After a few of Tony’s wobbly steps forward, however, it becomes clear that they’re not going to make any significant progress in their homeward journey if they keep going like this.

Steve stops in his tracks and Tony’s body sways into Steve’s. 

Tony looks at him and giggles, blinking languidly. Under the yellow streetlights, drunk and unable to walk in a straight line, he still looks unfairly breathtaking. 

Steve ducks his head, biting his lip to suppress his laughter. He sighs before crouching in front of Tony decisively. 

“Come on, I’ll carry you home.” 

There is a brief silence in which Steve becomes worried that Tony is too drunk to understand what he’s supposed to do, but then he hears the shuffle of Tony’s sneakers on the ground and then he feels Tony’s weight settling over his own body, his arms looping around Steve’s neck from behind. Steve reaches behind him and hooks his arms under Tony’s knees before standing up with a grunt. 

“Hold onto me, okay? Don’t let go,” Steve says, turning his head to the side as far as his head allows to attempt to look at Tony. He can’t actually see Tony’s face, but the man hums contentedly into Steve’s neck and Steve shivers when he feels the cold tip of Tony’s nose brush against his skin. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Steve grins to himself, overcome with fondness. There’s something about drunk, pliant, and half-awake Tony that pulls at his heartstrings and overwhelms him with the need to protect.

He begins walking quietly then, the weight of Tony comforting and warm on his back, dirt and asphalt crunching under his shoes. 

“Did you have fun today?” Tony slurs into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I did,” Steve replies sincerely, his mind recalling the events of the night with a smile. Tony had organized a surprise party at a karaoke bar attended by their small circle of friends. Steve had a surprising amount of fun just watching his friends goof around half drunk, enjoying their terrible renditions of various songs. Tony’s own ear-splitting cover of Highway to Hell is Steve’s personal favorite. 

“Although, I would argue that you ended up having way more fun than I did,” Steve teases. Tony giggles, his breath warm against Steve’s neck. 

“Happy birthday, Steve,” he mumbles sleepily into Steve’s shirt. 

“Thank you, Tony.” 

They spent the next few minutes in companionable silence before Steve attempts to make conversation as he turns the corner of the street. 

“Hey, how much did you actually drink? Can’t remember the last time I saw you this drunk.”

His inquiry is promptly greeted by resounding silence. 

He comes to a stop, glancing back at Tony. “Tony?”

More silence. Without the sound of his walking, he can hear Tony’s steady breathing.

“Out like a light, huh?” Steve says to himself, before lifting Tony further up on his back and resuming the walk home.

“You know, Tony. I really did have a lot of fun today. I always tell you that I don’t like surprises, but I find that I don’t mind them so much… coming from you,” Steve confesses, and he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, pouring his heart out to Tony when the man is clearly not awake. Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s 3 AM on a Friday night. The neighborhood is mostly asleep and the way the world is quiet right now makes him feel sort of invincible, gives him the kind of courage to do things he wouldn’t normally do, makes him feel that anything he does right now isn’t quite real and won’t have any permanent consequences. 

So maybe that’s why he continues to say whatever he wants, opening the floodgates for secret confessions his heart longs to say aloud, letting the words flow out without the common sense from his brain there to stop them.

“I loved the surprise party. I loved watching all of you sing your hearts out. Although, I don’t know if we can call most of what we did ‘singing’. Maybe more… passionate screaming.” Steve chuckles.

“But if you want me to be honest? This, right here, is my favorite part of the entire night,” Steve says, relishing the way Tony’s brown curls tickle the side of his neck, his head lolling back and forth on Steve’s shoulder with every step he takes. 

“I would give up even the most amazing, crazy, mind-blowing party if I got to spend a night with you, just the two of us. I really don’t care what we do, just as long as you’re by my side. Hell, you could even slander my favorite TV show and talk my ears off about how scientifically inaccurate it is.” Steve feels his own lips turn up in a helpless smile just at the thought of it, a wave of longing so powerful taking over him and leaving him breathless.

Steve takes a deep breath. 

“The truth is… I’m in love with you, Tony,” he finally says out loud, for the first time ever. The way he is able to express how he has always felt about Tony without any inhibitions feels unbelievably freeing, a lightness filling his limbs, making his steps lighter. He feels untouchable.

“I’ve known this for a while and it’s simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the entire world. Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like I love you so much my heart is going to burst with it.”

He makes it into the elevator of their apartment building, pressing the button for their floor. His own reflection stares back at him from the smooth metal elevator doors as they close. Then his eyes fall on Tony, fast asleep on his back. 

“Some days, it makes it hard to breathe. Other days… On days like today, it leaves me feeling all dopey and happy like I’m on cloud nine,” he says, his voice disconcertingly loud in the small enclosed space. He allows himself a few seconds to lean back against Tony’s warmth and lets his eyes linger on their reflection, indulging in the brief fantasy of them being an actual couple. They look good together. 

The elevator dings. Steve carries Tony out of the elevator and manages to punch in the passcode to Tony’s apartment door—right across from his—with some difficulty, all the while making sure Tony doesn’t slide off his back. He finally makes his way into Tony’s bedroom, knowing the layout of the apartment so well he could probably traverse it in his sleep. Gingerly, he sits down on Tony’s bed, extricating Tony from himself slowly so as not to rouse him from his sleep. His back feels instantly cold from the loss of warmth, his heart bereft. He takes off Tony’s sneakers one by one and tries his best to maneuver his body under the sheets, tucking him in.

Lingering on the bed, Steve leans close to sweep Tony’s brown locks away from his eyes, unwilling to leave just yet. The second he leaves, this magical night comes to an end and Steve has to go back to the reality of days spent in painful, ridiculous pining.

Just as he moves to pull his fingers away from Tony’s face, one of Tony’s hands shoots up to grab his wrist, gripping it tightly. Slowly, Tony opens his eyes.

Steve’s blood freezes in his veins. His heart sinks with dread. 

“Tony?” Steve hopes that this is just some weird bout of sleepwalking, but Tony doesn’t sleepwalk, and from the thoughtful way Tony regards him, Steve knows that Tony is somehow very much awake, which means—

Tony swallows, his eyes wide and alert in a way Steve didn’t think they were capable of being twenty minutes ago. 

“Steve,” he says, the single word carrying too much weight.

Steve moves to pull his wrist away to— 

He doesn’t actually know what he is planning to do but he supposes it’s something along the lines of locking himself in his room, burying his head under a pillow, and sleeping forever and ever.

Tony’s grip is strong and unyielding. He maintains Steve’s gaze with a defiant look in his eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Steve feels lightheaded and when he speaks his words come out in a terrified rush. “You were awake this entire time?”

“Well, I was in and out of it, but yeah. Mostly.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling through his nose. “Did you—”

“Yeah.”

“How much—”

“All of it.”

It feels like eternity before Steve is able to force something coherent out of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve. Look at me.”

Steve’s eyes remain tightly shut.

“Steve?”

Steve shakes his head vigorously, eyes still closed.

“Steeeve?” Tony calls again.

There is the sound of rustling sheets, like Tony is shifting on the bed.

“If you don’t open your eyes, I’m going to kiss you.”

The wave of pure shock that simple statement sends through his body makes his eyes blink open of their own accord. He flinches with further surprise when he sees that Tony’s face is suddenly much closer than it was before. 

“Tony, I—”

“Is this why you always turn down Natasha’s matchmaking attempts?”

Steve nods slowly, feeling dizzy under Tony’s close scrutiny.

Tony starts to chuckle, resting his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “God, we’re both idiots.”

“Huh?”

Tony leans back, smiling at him with a tenderness that sends his heart racing.

“Remember that one time you finally decided to go on a date with Sharon?”

Steve nods, thinking back to the night he agreed to go on one date after Natasha’s endless pestering, to at least try, because Sharon had seemed nice and Tony was never going to love him back anyway. 

In retrospect, the whole thing was a terrible mistake because he practically went on the date to get over Tony, which effectively makes him a jerk. Heartache had clouded his judgment, but sweet and nice Sharon deserved so much better than that. Even at the end of their date, when it had been clear to the both of them that things weren’t going to work out between them, she remained unbelievably kind and gracious. 

“You remember how I had skipped all my classes the following day?”

“Yeah?”

“It was because I had a massive hangover. Because the night of your date, I was getting absolutely shitfaced, drinking my feelings away.”

Steve furrows his brow, breath hitching in his throat. “Because—”

“Because I’ve been in love with you since like, forever?” Tony’s tone is deceptively nonchalant, but the nervous way in which he avoids Steve’s eyes betrays his true emotions.

Steve sucks in a deep breath, an overwhelming warmth flooding his chest, his affection for Tony intense and heady like some kind of potent drug rushing through his veins. 

“Well, uh, the Sharon thing didn’t work out anyway,” Steve says, feeling out of breath. Tony’s doe-eyes look up to meet his gaze at the admission.

“Yeah?” 

“During the date, I… couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he confesses, ducking his head bashfully. 

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t work out,” Tony says. When Steve meets his eyes again, Tony is looking at Steve like he just discovered that the secrets of the universe have been swimming in Steve’s eyes all along. 

“Me too.” Steve lets out a shaky breath. “So, uh. It’s late. You should get some sleep. See you tomorrow?”

He stands up, a little unsteady on his feet. 

“Let’s have lunch together? Make it a date?” Tony suggests.

A date, Steve thinks a little dazedly even as he nods. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Tony’s eyes stay fixated on him as he steps backwards towards Tony’s bedroom door.

“Okay, good night,” Steve says, slowly pulling the door shut. 

“Good night,” Tony replies, snuggling down in his bed. 

Steve shuts the door quietly before resting his forehead on it, the smooth wooden surface cool against his skin. Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he takes a deep breath and opens the door again abruptly. 

“Actually, one last thing before I go?”

“Yeah?” Tony sits up, looking at him expectantly. 

Steve strides purposefully towards him.

As he bends down to kiss him, he finds that Tony is already surging upwards, meeting him halfway.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 70

With the Battalion home on Earth, all they wanna do is nothing. But will they ever have a chance to relax again? Previous! Next!

--

Whole Lotta Nothin

Squee: After the year we had I kinda wanna do absolutely nothing today

Dib: Sounds like a plan

Gaz: Im down

Pepito: way ahead of you

Zim: Then it’s settled. Today we will do absolutely nothing. Check in later.

           Squee closes the group chat and stretches, smiling contently. He quickly finishes his cereal and, after washing his dishes, starts to head outside. Johnny and Granny Cammie, who were both sitting on the couch with him, watch him pass by.

           “Big plans today?” Cammie asks.

           “Yup,” Squee replies as he opens the front door. “A whole lotta nothing. I’m gonna see if Colton wants to join.”

           “That sounds like a good plan,” Nny comments and sinks deeper into the couch.

           Squee heads down the yard and sits on the curb. A moment or two later, Colton joins him.

           “Sup,” he greets.

           “Wanna do nothing today?” Squee asks.

           “Every day,” he smiles and they both lie down on the cement, sighing happily.

           The sky is a bright blue, dotted with puffy, white clouds. Birds are singing as they fly overhead. Around the city, kids are running around, enjoying their last week of summer before school starts again. But as per usual, Grave Road is quiet, which is perfect for the two lazy boys.

           “I bet the Earth sky is pretty boring after what you’ve seen,” Colton remarks.

           “Space is amazing,” Squee comments, “so much…space. But the sky is nice in its own way too. Space is endless; Earth has a horizon. Both boast freedom.”            “I like clouds.”

           “Clouds are nice too.”

           Across the street, a neighbor girl Emily leaves her house with her friend and Colton’s sister, Kay. Giggling, they race over to the boys and stand over them, blocking their view.

           “Squee!” they exclaim.

           “Are you shouting my name or just squealing?” Squee asks.

           “Both,” Emily replies.

           “Is it true you were in space all year?” Kay asks.

           “Yup,” he nods.

           “What was it like?” Emily demands.

           “What did you see?” Kay asks.

           “What did you do?”

           “Did you fight aliens?”

           “Did you go to a lot of planets?”

           The boys both grumble with annoyance from the constant questioning before Colton interrupts them. “Girls, please. Squee just got back yesterday. Give him space.”            “Pun not intended, I hope,” Squee grunts.

           “Uh, yeah, no, sorry.”            “Awww, but we wanna go on an adventure,” Emily whines.

           “Huh?” Squee questions.

         “You guys are always going on such awesome adventures,” Kay points out, “we wanna too!”

           “I never go on the adventures,” Colton argues, “I just hear about them.”

           “Well, I’m tired of just hearing about them,” she whines, “I want adventures!”

           “Me too!” Emily shrilly agrees.

           “Well, why don’t you go find some?” Squee suggests, somewhat impatiently.

           “Huh?” they question.

           “You don’t need me to go on adventures,” he explains, “adventure is everywhere, around every corner. Who knows what you’ll find.”            The girls share a surprised look before beaming with excitement.

           “Let’s go find adventure!” Kay exclaims.

           “Yah!” Emily cheers before they go racing away.

           “Finally,” Squee sighs with relief.

           “Now you know what it’s like to have a little sister,” Colton remarks. They both sigh happily from the peace and quiet and continue their packed schedule of nothing.

           Meanwhile, Emily and Kay race down the street and through the neighboring blocks, giggling and excited.

           “Where should we go? How do we find adventure?” Kay asks as she peeks around every corner they pass.

           “Hmmm,” Emily muses before spotting the city bus. It just arrived at a nearby stop and a couple people are filing on. “Let’s take the bus!”

           “Okay!” Kay exclaims and they both laugh excitedly and skip to the bus stop. They slip inside behind a random businessman and since they’re both young children, the bus driver doesn’t even notice them.            

           They settle down on an empty seat, giggling feverishly as the bus takes off.

           “Where do you think it’ll take us?” Kay asks.

           “I don’t know,” Emily snickers, “definitely somewhere we’ve never been.”            “Somewhere adventurous?”

           “Yeah!”

           They both laugh into their hands, getting strange stares from the other passengers.

           They watch the scenery pass by with wide eyes and big smiles as they get farther and farther away from their neighborhood than either of them have ever been. The filthy city streets covered in litter and panhandling addicts might as well be paved in gold with the way the girls are staring in awe. And when the bus gets stuck in traffic, they both beam excitedly at the new, colourful language they hear from the surrounding drivers.

           Their sightseeing is interrupted when a middle-aged bald man in loose, filthy clothes covered in sweat stains approaches. “He-hello, little girls,” he says in a heavy, panting voice.

           “Hi!” Kay chimes.

           “Where are you off to this-this fine day?”

           “Adventure!” Emily exclaims and they both giggle.

           “Really?” he smiles crookedly, “y-you must be very brave girls to look for adventure.”

           “You think so?” Kay asks excitedly.

           “I-I do,” he nods, “and I know a great place for adventure if you’ll come with me at the next stop.”

           For the first time since they’ve started their adventure, Kay and Emily feel hesitant.

           “I don’t know,” Emily replies, “my mom says I shouldn’t go off with strangers.”

           “That’s a very good idea,” the man nods, “but-but adventurers need to be brave and take risks, right?”

           “I guess,” Kay replies, somewhat unsure.

           “So be brave, take a risk, and come with me,” he smiles, a little bit of drool dripping out of the corner of his mouth as he reaches for them. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

           Before he can touch them, another hand lashes out from his side and grabs his arm, twisting it around.

           “Ow! What the fuck!” he barks and glares at his perpetrator: a young, black haired woman with a nasty glare.

           “I suggest you go sit on the other end of the bus,” she growls, “before I change my mind about being PG.”

           The man starts to say something but stops when the woman snarls, revealing very sharp vampire fangs. She lets go of his arm as he winces back and he scurries away like a frightened dog.

           The woman sighs and sits on the seat across from the girls. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You two are looking for adventure?”

           “Yeah!” they cheer.

           “Well then, let me give you some advice, as a seasoned adventurer. We need to be brave, sure, but we still have to make careful risks. Otherwise, you might end up not being able to go on adventures ever again.”            Emily and Kay both cock their heads, quizzical looks on their faces.      

           The woman looks them over analytically. “You must be far from home. Where do you live?”

           “Grave Road,” Emily replies.

           The woman’s eyebrow rises with interest. “Really. You know someone named Squee?”            “Yeah, he’s our neighbor,” Kay nods, “he’s the one who told us to look for adventure.”            “Oh, he did, huh,” she grins with amusement. “I doubt this is what he meant. He’s gonna owe me big time.”            “Huh?” the girls question, cocking their heads.

           The woman leans forward, smiling. “I’m Serena. What are your names?”            “Emily!”

           “Kay!”

           “Well, Emily, Kay,” Serena says, “I know of an amazing, safe place to have an adventure. I happen to be going there right now. Wanna come?”

           “What kind of place?” Emily asks, eyes shining excitedly.

         “An amazing, alien vessel filled with wacky characters that you would only find in a cartoon.”

           “I like cartoons,” Kay beams.

           “I thought you would,” Serena grins, “but do you also like clowns?”

           They spend the next couple hours riding the bus through the city. Kay and Emily are amazed by Serena’s seemingly endless knowledge of the city, as she always has something to say about something they pass. She also seems really tough and scares strangers away with just a glare and a snarl.

           Finally, after about two hours, they arrive at their stop and Serena leads them off the bus. They walk for a couple blocks before arriving to another, smaller bus that’s bright pink. The young girls are immediately ecstatic.

           “It’s so pretty!” Emily chimes.

           “Really? I always thought it was kind of gaudy,” Serena comments as she opens the side door. “I’m back.”

           Inside is pink too, with fluffy carpeting and leather seats and a hammock hanging from the ceiling. Spread out on the seats are four very odd looking characters who do a double-take as the girls walk in.

           “What!” D-boy exclaims and falls out of his hammock.

           “Uh, Serena…” Sickness trails off, pointing dumbly at the young girls.

           “What did you do?” Reverend Meat asks accusingly.

           “Relax,” Serena grunts, waving away their concerns. “I saved them from some perverted creep on the bus. They’re Squee’s neighbors.”

           “Really?” Eff asks as he kneels in front of them.

           “You’re a clown!” Kay exclaims.

           “Very perceptive,” he remarks.

           “Can you make balloon animals?” Emily asks.

           He shrugs. “Sure, why not.” He reaches into his hat and pulls out a long, deflated pink balloon which he quickly blows up. After a bit of twisting and pulling, he makes Emily a balloon poodle and she squeals with delight.

           “I want one!” Kay exclaims.

           “D-boy, you make this one,” Eff orders.

           The other Doughboy groans with annoyance but pulls a red balloon out of his hat, which he twists into a giraffe. Both girls cheer excitedly.

           “They’re adorable,” Reverend Meat beams.

           “They’re too loud,” D-boy grunts as he rubs his ear.

           “Where’s Aron?” Serena asks as she looks around.

           “In class,” Sickness replies.

           “Damn,” she sighs, “I wanted to drive them home right away but I guess we can’t just leave without Aron. If he comes back and the bus is gone, he’ll break.”

           “Wait, you’re gonna take us home?” Kay snaps, “you said you’d take us on an adventure!”

           “Was this not enough of an adventure for you?” Serena asks, gesturing to the Night Terrors. “You even got souvenirs.”

           “We want real adventure!” Emily shouts, “with danger and…and…exploring and…and monsters!”

           “Yeah!” Kay agrees.

           “Ugh, this is why I hate kids,” Serena groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

           “So, you guys want adventure, do ya?” Reverend Meat purrs as he kneels before the young girls.

           “Yah!” they cheer.

           “Meat,” Serena says suspiciously.

           “Relax,” he grins and stands up. “I was just gonna suggest that we walk them home.”

           “Across the city?” Eff exclaims, “that’s like five hours!”

           “And the perfect adventure for a couple budding adventurers,” Reverend Meat adds, “who knows what we’ll see, who we’ll come across. And they’ll probably get wiped out before we even get them home.”

           “Fine,” Serena shrugs.

           “Yeah, alright,” Sickness nods, “could be fun.”

           “Pass,” D-boy yawns as he lies down on his hammock. But before he can get comfortable, Eff yanks him off and they all leave.

           “I guess we better stop at a store and pick up drinks and snacks,” Reverend Meat muses as they walk down the street, the girls skipping ahead of them with excitement. “Wouldn’t want them passing out from hunger or something. Serena, you got any cash?”

           “Uh like ten bucks,” she replies.

           “That should be enough for them but what about us?” Sickness asks.

           “Don’t worry, I got a plan,” Eff smirks.

           They go inside the nearest store and Eff hands them the ten dollar bill. “Alright, girls, go ahead and buy ten dollars’ worth of snacks and drinks.”            “Cool!” Emily cheers and they race off. They carefully pick out their treats while Eff and D-boy follow, seemingly like diligent guardians. But as the girls pay, the Doughboys slip outside with the others.

          “We got gummy worms and fizzy pop!” Kay exclaims excitedly as they join the Night Terrors.

           “Hey, us too,” Eff replies as he and D-boy reach into their hats and pull out cans of soda for everyone.

           “Hey,” Emily says accusingly, “where’d you get those?”

           “We’re magicians,” D-boy shrugs plainly, “we definitely didn’t steal them while the clerk was busy with you.”

           “Yeah, exactly,” Eff nods, “now let’s go.”            The girls stare at them suspiciously but follow nonetheless.

           It’s a beautiful day for a walk and the girls are in awe of everything. It’s even more amazing than what they saw on the bus because now they’re actually within it. The Night Terrors keep them from stopping and admiring though, but also tell little stories about some of the stuff they pass.

           “That’s the alley where Serena tried to drink my blood once,” D-boy says.

           “Oh, yeah, when we first met,” Serena remarks.

           “Why’d you try to drink his blood?” Emily asks, grimacing.

           She shrugs. “Blood has lots of iron.”            “Eeewww,” both girls reply shrilly.

           They eventually leave the shopping area and pass into a middle-class neighborhood. Kids their age and older are outside, playing around and enjoying the nice summer day. But there’s one house that everyone seems to avoid and Serena points it out.

           “You two will like this; that’s the Membrane house.”            “Like Dib and Gaz Membrane?” Kay exclaims excitedly.

           “Well, I was thinking more like their dad,” Serena replies, “you know, The Professor Membrane.”

           “But Dib and Gaz are the ones who have been on all the adventures with Squee,” Emily points out, “Dib is a genius with ghosts and monsters and Gaz is super strong and dangerous.”

           “Wow, you guys really know a lot about Squee’s adventures, huh?” Sickness questions.

           “So you must know us then, right?” Reverend Meat asks, “the Night Terrors.”

           “Ummm, I don’t think my brother ever talked about you,” Kay replies.

           “But we’ve saved Squee dozens of times,” Eff points out.

           “Yeah, he’s our Little Boss,” Sickness adds.

           Both girls shrug apologetically.

           “Hmph,” D-boy snorts, “guess our adventures aren’t good enough to talk about.”            “Whatever,” Reverend Meat whines, “we’re way cooler.”

           “Guys, shut up for a second,” Serena snaps and points down the street. “You see that?”

           “What? What?” Kay and Emily question. They can’t see it but the Night Terrors do: something or someone on a building across the street from the Membrane house. They’re hiding in the shadows and doing a pretty good job. If Serena hadn’t noticed a glare from the scope on their gun, they never would’ve been spotted.

           “What are they doing?” Sickness asks.

           “Looks like their pointing some kind of weapon at the Membrane house,” Reverend Meat replies.

           “That’s suspicious,” Serena comments.

           “What are you guys talking about?” Emily asks, “we don’t see anything.”

           Eff smirks at them. “We’ll show you just how cool our adventures are. Come on, D-boy.”

           The Doughboys suddenly leap up onto the roof of the closest building, to the shock and awe of the two girls.

           Meanwhile, Dib and Gaz are relaxing on lounge chairs on the roof of their house. Both of them are smiling blissfully, enjoying the peace and quiet. Across the street, an Irken in a black body suit points a scoped laser rifle at them, taking aim at Dib’s big head.

           He starts to pull the trigger when his antennae twitch. He whips around and fires his rifle.

           Dib’s eyes crack open at the sound. “Did you hear that?”

           “Huh, I don’t care,” Gaz replies, not even looking up from her GS3.

           “Hm. Yeah,” Dib agrees and closes his eyes.

           The Irken growls defiantly but is completely immobilized as Eff holds the barrel of his gun and D-boy squeezes his antennae. With his free hand, Eff rubs the little spot of charred flesh on his cheek where the laser grazed him.

           “You ruined my make-up,” he grunts.

           Without another word, Eff reaches into his hat, pulls out a machete, and carves the Irken to bits.

           They soon join their friends back on the ground, after disposing of the Irken in a nearby dumpster.    

           “So?” Reverend Meat asks.

           “Looked like some kind of Irken assassin,” Eff replies.

           “An assassin? After Dib and Gaz?” Sickness questions, “but Squee hasn’t said they’re being hunted.”

           “Maybe he doesn’t know,” D-boy shrugs, “we almost didn’t notice them.”            “Oh! Oh!” Emily exclaims, frantically waving her hand in the air.

           “Yes, Emily?” Serena asks.

           “What if assassins are after Squee’s other friends too?”

           The Night Terrors share a curious look.

           “Well, we’re already walking through the city,” Reverend Meat muses, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check on them.”            “And the Little Boss would definitely appreciate it,” Eff adds.

           “Well, looks like you two are getting more adventure than we thought,” Serena grins at Emily and Kay, who beam excitedly.

           The group hurries through the city. With a set goal in mind, even Emily and Kay don’t get so easily distracted. And soon they arrive at Zim’s cul-de-sac, and stare at his house from down the street.

           Inside, Skoodge, Gir, and Minimoose are enamoured by a silly cartoon playing on the TV. Behind them, Zim is lying face down on the couch, relaxing for the first time in over a year. He forgot how nice it felt to just shut down for a while.

           Outside, on the roof of a neighbor’s house, an Irken reaches into her PAK and pulls out a small, round device with a display and a red button. She presses the button and a countdown begins on the display. She starts to toss the device towards Zim’s house when a flash of purple rushes by her eyes. Before she can react, something grabs her antennae and yanks her off her feet.

           Sickness lands back on the ground with her friends and holds out the immobilized Irken like a trophy. “Behold: an Irken.”

           “Whoa!” Kay and Emily exclaim.

           The Irken says some nasty things in her alien language which thankfully the young girls can’t understand as Sickness tosses her over to the Doughboys. “Here you go, guys.”

           They both giggle excitedly and disappear down a nearby alley to finish her off in private while Sickness hands the device she had to Reverend Meat.

           “She had this too,” she says, “I’m guessing it’s some kind of bomb.”            “Hm,” he muses as he examines the display. “It’s in Irken. No idea what it says. Oh well.”

           He grips the bomb, pulls his arm back, and whips it into the sky strong enough to break through the atmosphere. But it doesn’t make it that far and explodes ten seconds later.

           Zim’s antennae twitch at the sound. He lazily lifts his head, glances around, and lies back down.

           “Well, that was a lot quicker than I thought,” Reverend Meat comments.

           “That was so cool!” Kay exclaims while Emily nods agreeably. He chuckles bashfully and rubs the back of his head.        

           “Okay, we’re done,” Eff says as he and D-boy return. “Let’s get going. It’s a long walk to Pepito’s house.”

           “Yeah, too long to walk if he’s gonna be assassinated,” Reverend Meat agrees then smiles at the girls. “You too wanna go for a ride?”            They stare at him in confusion.

           A few moments later, they’re squealing with delight as they hang onto his shoulders and the Night Terrors leap across buildings. They’re moving much faster now, even faster than the bus, and they cover way more ground. A five hour walk is quickly shortened to barely an hour.

           In his house, Pepito has barely moved from the couch all day, except to get a snack or use the bathroom. He’s been watching whatever cooking shows his mom has playing on TV and finds that he’s retaining quite a lot of it. He’ll have to try these tricks later when he’s not determined to do absolutely nothing all day.

           On his roof, an Irken removes a small explosive device from his PAK and begins to activate it when he senses multiple presences appear behind him. Before he can react, a hand roughly grabs his antennae and turns him around to the Night Terrors, with Kay and Emily peeking excitedly over Reverend Meat’s shoulders.

           “Hey,” Eff nods while D-boy draws a sledgehammer from his hat and smashes the Irken’s face in.

           The noise is audible through the house and Pepito glances up curiously before shrugging apathetically.

           Back on the roof, Serena quickly wipes the pink Irken blood off Kay and Emily’s faces, who are both stunned.  

           “I told you to not do that in front of them,” she hisses at the Doughboys.

           “Sorry,” D-boy shrugs, “got excited.”            “Ah, they’re fine,” Eff scoffs, “right, girls?”

           “Yeah!” Emily exclaims.

           “That was awesome!” Kay cheers.

           “See?” Eff says to Serena. “It’ll just come up in therapy later in life.”            “That was everyone, right?” Sickness asks.

           “Let’s see: Zim, Dib, Gaz, Pepito.” Reverend Meat lists them off on his fingers. “Yup. All that’s left is the Little Boss.”            “Good. We can drop these two off at the same time,” Serena declares and looks at the girls. “You ready to go home?”

           “Okay,” they chime.

           “Good,” she nods, “let’s go.”            The hot summer sun has passed over the sky and just begins to set for the day, and Squee and Colton haven’t moved an inch. They’re still lying on the sidewalk, legs stretched out onto the road. Their glazed over eyes blink heavily as they both smack their dry mouths.

           “Hey, Colton,” Squee says.

           “Yeah?” he questions.

           “I’m starting to think that spending all day lying on cement wasn’t a good idea.”

           “I was just thinking the same thing.”

           Squee squirms painfully, his back aching. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again.”

           “Squee! Colton!” Kay and Emily exclaim as they race down the road.

           “Oh, look who it is,” Colton groans wearily.

           “Wonder where they’ve been all day,” Squee muses.

           “Probably just playing in the backyard,” he replies as the girls approach.

           “You’ll never guess the adventure we just went on!” Kay yells excitedly.

           “First we took the bus, and then we met this really cool girl Serena who took us to the bus she lives in with clowns!” Emily explains enthusiastically, “and they took us through the city while beating alien assassins that are trying to kill your friends!”            “That’s nice,” Squee mutters, barely registering what she just said. Then it hits him like a brick and his eyes fly open. “Wait, what!”

           An Irken’s mangled, lifeless body hits the sidewalk right by Squee’s and Colton’s head, startling them to jump to their feet, squealing. They hold onto each other, panting as they stare with bewilderment at the body and at the Night Terrors as they land before them.

           Serena grins and leans forward, flicking Squee’s nose. “You’re welcome.”

           “Duh-um-uh-g-good work, guys,” Squee stammers, pointing at the Night Terrors before slipping past them and heading to his house. “I gotta call Zim.”            Everyone watches him leave before the Night Terrors look at Colton.  

           “So apparently you don’t like telling your sister about our adventures?” Reverend Meat questions accusingly.

           Colton flinches beneath their glares while Kay and Emily dance around, giggling and cheering about the day they just had.

[krystlind]

I’m actually damn proud and pleased with myself

For how i am keeping at it. I am staying on my course. Sure my thoughts race and play too many hypotheticals it shouldn’t.

But I am like genuinely learning to be with myself and get clear on myself and learn how to enjoy my own company. And if I’m honest, I kinda love being alone. I think I always have, like in Europe when I was traveling. It was so nice to be in my own quiet company. I’ve been attached to someone for so long, living with them, doing things, feeling emotions and making decisions in the context of them, and just having them in my thoughts.

I’m learning to be in my own movie again. Not looking at it through the filter of them or others. I’m learning to be in my own experience. Not a filtered experience, my own. And of course this social media cleanse is working.

I’m also learning how to come back home to me, she who wandered away from me, from her essence. She who was always comparing and aware of what she was not and striving to be the girl he would obsess over. No, I’m learning to come home to the purest most expressive, unique essence of ME. That’s what I’m learning! I love being inspired.. but for so long I have tried to be more of what is wanted. But now, I’d really love to grow into the fullness of myself. Who I am and have been all along but in full bloom. Not that there’s an end, but just this vividness.

A vivid, health flower. No flower like her. That’s how everyone should be right? And is?

I love that I am starting to finally give me a chance. To step back, and see what I’M really made of. When I’m not trying to look like something else, come off as something else, be desirable. Who the eff caresss about making yourself desirable. You know what you get? People who need a shiny object and think they should have you or a piece of you. People who don’t even care about your core qualities, your innate natural beautiful traits and authentic personality. Who wants that anyways then?

What if you showed up as so you, grounded in the values and principles as so you, living your life in so much alignment to what you want to do and how you want to impact the world, and that in itself is so inspiring you’re just magnetic in that sense.. but to the right things and people?

I know you lived so much of yourself to be so desirable, admirable. That’s ok.. you have a super power to put it on and present and inspire and that’s not bad!! But perhaps... you can do that where you actually start with how YOU feel in this life, for you first? Putting you first?

In order to become who you are, you must let go of who you think you are or must be.

(It’s weird ... like am I not this? I guess we can have so many perspectives on ourselves and reality. So there for there is no absolute truth).

I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore. But close and say, no this isn’t easy. Yes there’s a lot of uncertainty. But I’m so done being worried about a future I’ve hypothesized and never turning out that way anyways, so there was no need to spend this present doing that, under the illusion of safe guarding myself from that future hypothetical scenario that never ends up being true anyways, it’s always something COMPLETELY unpredictable, and I end up looking back and saying, wow I could’ve trusted a little more and felt into that moment back then, knowing things would be alright.

So now knowing that as a cycle, my intention now is to realize the future is completely still unpredictable so the best thing you can do, again, in this moment, is not to spend so much energy safeguarding the future and prepping for that, and engineering your path based off of what you think will happen

And maybe not do anything

Just be here, trusting that when you don’t hypothesize and hack the future, it actually turns out for the better, because you get to now spend the current moment building your foundations, building from within, and that woman that is becoming, is soo much better prepared for whatever comes anyways, because she was building from within. And you know what? Life isn’t the game of winning. Life is perhaps this game of just getting to be here. For all this. For the mess, the beauty, the rare unpredictable experience, this gift.

[writefromthevoid]

You can’t learn everything from your backyard.

Despite what many of us were taught in our high school English classes, Henry David Thoreau’s advice on the matters of travel and soul searching isn’t the greatest for writers and world building. We can search our souls without leaving our hometown, but we can’t experience different environments without getting out there. This is extremely important when building a world of your own.

Growing up, I lived with my mother in Camas, Washington. It’s a little mill town in the conservative pocket of Clark County. Just across the river is the thriving cultural hub that is Portland, Oregon. Now, I live in Texas, near Dallas. It’s just about as different as you can get without going to the other side of the globe. As a teenager, I spent quite a few summers here with my father, but living here has taught me to see some things I hadn’t considered before.

Two very different sunsets.

Friends from back North often ask me what it’s like to live in a red state since I lived in a blue state for so long. The differences, though, aren’t really political. Sure, that’s part of it, but the culture itself is what shows the most. It comes up in some of the strangest ways.

“Thanks for warning me…that would have gotten on my nerves eventually.”

Language is something that constantly evolves. It is influenced by the culture of the people who speak it. World building sometimes means coming up with a unique language to suit the people inhabiting the new universe. If it doesn’t, it probably involves different usage of certain words. This became evident to me when I found out my stepmom had warned my grandma about the way I talk before we met.

My step-grandmother thanked my stepmom, Amy, for the warning she received before meeting me. “She doesn’t say ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am,’ Mom. It’s a cultural thing. It’s as different as if she came here and started speaking Spanish,” Amy said.

At the time, Grandma brushed it off with an “okay,” and life moved on. When we met, we got along instantly. We bonded over our love of dogs and talked endlessly about Mississippi, her home state, and the Pacific Northwest. But Amy was right. I never once said “Yes, Ma’am,” to her. My vocabulary was different. I was quiet and polite, but not in the typical Southern way.

Who wouldn’t love this face?

That’s why she thanked Amy. Grandma grew up with honorifics being mandatory, and she raised her kids to know when to use them. It’s a sign of respect, and not using them can be disrespectful. In the North, however, it’s seldom used outside of the service industry.

When building your worlds, consider the differences of language. Would it cause any strife between characters? Would it be something a character would have to learn? What speaking habits would some of them have that others don’t? 

“It doesn’t matter if we like you here. If we aren’t hospitable, the desert might take you.”

We have a family friend, Camille, who has a habit of being very straight forward, very blunt, in a way I’ve not seen from anyone else. When I met her for the first time in years, she intimidated the living hell out of me. Reading people is not my strong suit. I have had to actively teach myself how to read body language and I’m still working on learning tone. Camille is bold and loud. She has a passion for lifting and Pekiti–Tirsia Kali. In many ways, she’s my exact opposite.

I spent a lot of my time when she was around quiet, and it didn’t take long for her to realize I was nervous. She took me out to a Thai restaurant she really liked and we talked the whole time. We discovered a shared interest in music, both of us being clarinet players, and she offered to teach me the basics of Pekiti.

I told her when we got back to the car I’d been afraid she wouldn’t like me much. We’d seemed to be so different. She offered me a shrug and said, “It doesn’t matter if we like you here. If we aren’t hospitable, the desert might take you.”

I stared at her for a moment, stunned. The desert wasn’t a person. It didn’t have that much power. But she explained her statement to me, and I realized yes, yes it does.

You might not even notice until it’s too late.

The desert is hot, formidable, and merciless. Without water, people die. This fact alone shaped the whole concept of Southern Hospitality. When westward expansion was happening, survival depended on being able to put aside differences and help each other. The culture reflects that. Politics don’t matter. Religion doesn’t matter. Race doesn’t matter. Sexuality doesn’t matter. In the desert, without water, you will die. Francis Duggan was right. Death is the great equalizer.

In your world building, consider what parts of the environment would impact the culture of the inhabitants. Are people able to be generous and band together, or are resources so slim, it’s better to be solitary? Is it easy to survive alone? How does the land affect the individual, the family, the community?

“Oh, please. That was mild.”

My fiance is scared of storms.

He lives in Tornado Alley.

When we moved to Texas, he told me over and over one of the things he’d have to work the hardest on getting used to were the thunder storms, the hail, and, God forbid, tornadoes. I tried my best to be reassuring, offering a smile and reassurance that it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Earlier today he experienced his first tornado watch. Then warning. Then sirens. My dad made a point during the daylight to show us both the clouds and where to look for the formation that would eventually become a tornado. My stepmom drew attention to the sudden drop in air temperature as the cold and warm systems moved about. I pointed out the frequent change in the wind direction. We all wanted to teach him not to be so afraid.

The lightening was like a light show. The sky flashed yellow, then purple, then brilliant grey-blue. But still, it seemed tame. That is, until night fell. It sounded like our house was on the edge of the ocean. The wind blasted and the sky never stayed dark. It was almost daylight without the sun.

Hail dumped down. We huddled under the overhang by the front door, watching in quiet awe. Alex murmured to me then, “Nature can really eff some shit up.” No truer words have been spoken.

We retreated inside when the ice shards started skittering across the concrete. Amy and I drew the last of the curtains as the sirens sounded. Dad retrieved a few pieces of hail that had somehow stayed intact.

Yes, those fell from the sky. Yes, they could kill someone.

The wind started to die down. The hail quit falling. The sirens went quiet.

I looked over at Alex, who was still wide-eyed with the kind of feverish excitement that only comes from finding a new thrill. In the North, we don’t get warnings for storms. The hills and trees hide it. They come suddenly and end just as fast.”See why I told you Northern storms are tame?” I asked. “They’re a lot louder here. Much more violent, too,” I added.

“Oh, please,” Amy said. “That was tame.”

Think about how the environment affects characters’ fears. What is different? What is the same? Thunder storms in the south are more intense, but less frightening to Alex. Storms are also a stereotype of this area, but people are more comfortable with them here. Are there quirks like that in your world? Why? 

Texas and Washington are completely different worlds. I am enjoying every minute of learning my new home. Every difference I notice brings me something else to think about when I write.

So go out! Travel! Talk to new people, debate, spark conversation. Find differences and revel in them. The world is richer for being diverse. Even if right now your world is confined to your own Walden Pond, there are people out there who are different than you. Dive into their wealth of information. Think.

Not only is that the route to being a better writer, it’s the route to being a better human.

World Building: This Isn’t Walden Pond You can't learn everything from your backyard. Despite what many of us were taught in our high school English classes, Henry David Thoreau's advice on the matters of travel and soul searching isn't the greatest for writers and world building. 

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 48

This was an idea given to me by a very supportive fan on Deviantart. Previous! Next!

New Hobbies

              “Coming in!” Devi announces as she and Tenna burst through the door of house number 777. But it’s completely empty; nobody’s around.

            “Huh. They must be out,” Tenna says, “should we come back?”

            “Nah. Let’s just hang out,” Devi replies.

            They flop down on the couch, turn on the TV, and make themselves at home.

            Nobody shows up for about an hour. And then suddenly the basement door swings open and Johnny walks out, blood dripping from his clothes and face. He spots Devi and Tenna and nearly jumps out of his skin.

            “What the hell are you doing?” he exclaims.

            “Forget us. What happened to you?” Tenna asks.

            “What, this?” he questions as he gestures to the blood. “None of its mine.”

            “Then whose is it?” she asks.

            “Don’t answer that,” Devi says quickly, “what’s wrong with you?”

            “Hey, don’t shout at me,” Johnny snaps, “you two are always barging in here without knocking. You were bound to see something you didn’t want to eventually.”

            He wipes some blood off his cheek. “I’m gonna go clean up. The two of you should take this time to think of what lessons you can get from this.”

            He goes down the hall to the bathroom. The girls stare after him for a second before Devi sighs with aggravation.

            “He’s so disgusting,” she comments.

            “You know what we should do?” Tenna asks.

            “Well, we could turn him into the police but I don’t think Squee would be very happy about that,” Devi replies.

            “No. I was going to say we should help him find a new hobby,” she says.

            “What?” she questions.

            “He just needs a better way to spend his time and energy,” Tenna explains, “we can help him find it.”

            Devi shrugs. “Well, he did use to like drawing.”

            “And City University offers all kinds of community classes,” she adds, “we should sign ourselves up.”             “Yeah,” Devi smiles, “let’s go.”

            They leave quickly to put their plan into action.

            A few minutes later, Johnny finishes showering and changing and goes into the living room. He looks around with surprise when he notices the girls are gone then smiles, pleased.

            “Much better,” he sighs as he lies down on the couch.

           The only reason Johnny leaves the couch is to drive Squee to Skool the next day. Afterwards, he returns to it and enjoys a couple quiet hours to himself.

            And then Devi and Tenna burst through the front door, smiling excitedly.

            “Ugh,” Johnny groans with blatant disgust. “You two never learn.”

            “Come on,” Tenna orders, “we’re going on a field trip.”

            “Huh?” he grunts.

            “We signed ourselves up for a bunch of community classes at CU,” Devi explains, “we’re gonna help you find a new hobby.”

            “Why?” Johnny asks.

            “You need one,” Tenna insists, “honestly, how else do you spend your time other than watching TV?”

            “Well, yesterday I spent a couple hours drilling into-.”

            “Ah, we don’t need to know,” Devi says quickly, cutting him off.

            “Just come on,” Tenna orders.

            Before he can argue anymore, they grab Johnny’s arms and drag him out the door and into Devi’s car.

            “Fuck,” he huffs as he pouts in the backseat. “What sort of classes?”

            “Sketching, painting, and pottery,” Devi replies.

            “Those all sound awful,” he comments.

            “What, even sketching?” Tenna questions, “we chose that one just for you.”

            “If I could still draw, then I would,” he points out, “some pretentious stranger trying to teach me shit isn’t gonna help.”             “How do you know they’re pretentious?” Devi asks.

            “Why else would they be a community class teacher than to showcase their skills to people of all ages?”

            “Jeez, you’re so negative,” Tenna scoffs, “some people do it because they’re desperate for money or have given up on their dreams.”

            “Yeah, that’s true,” Nny shrugs.

            An hour or so later they arrive at City University, the biggest, most prestigious advanced educations school in the city. They enter through the front gates and head through the campus to the main building.

            “I thought about coming to CU for an arts degree,” Devi says, “but the second I mentioned it to my parents they started bringing up all kinds of other classes they thought I should take instead and they ruined it for me.”

            They enter the main building and follow a map to their class. As they’re heading through the halls, they spot two familiar people sitting on a nearby bench although it takes them a second because they’re normally wearing face paint.

            “Hey, Nny, Devi, Tenna,” one of the Doughboys waves happily. It’s difficult to tell which one but it’s probably Mr. Fuck.

            “Wow, you two are eerily identical without makeup on,” Tenna comments.

            “Don’t remind me,” Psycho Doughboy groans.

            “Which raises the question, why don’t you have your makeup on?” Devi asks, “and what are you doing here?”

           “Aron goes to CU and he sneaks us into the communal showers once in a while,” Eff explains, “we just finished up. Now we’re waiting for Sickness and Reverend Meat.”             “They take so long,” D-boy comments.

            “What are you guys doing here?” Eff asks.

            “Taking some community classes,” Tenna replies, “we’re gonna find Johnny a new hobby.”

            The Doughboys stare at her for a second before bursting into loud, boisterous laughter. They literally hold their sides and double over as their laughter bounces off the walls.

             “We’re serious,” Devi growls.

            “That just makes it funnier,” Eff guffaws.

            “Oh, man,” D-boy sighs as he wipes his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.”

            “What’s so funny?” Tenna snaps.

            “Nny can’t do hobbies,” Eff says, “the Nightmare drained him dry.”

            “But I thought Johnny had endless imagination or something,” Devi points out.

            “Well, sure but what good is imagination if all your creativity and originality is gone?” Eff questions as he stands up next to Nny. “Look at him. He’s completely hollow.”

            To prove his point, he knocks a couple times on his head. Johnny immediately punches him in the face. Eff cries out in pain as he falls to the floor.

            “Well, I think you’re wrong,” Devi states, “if he still has imagination then he can still use it.”

            “Alright, believe what you want,” Eff grunts as he rubs his nose. “But trust us; we were there the entire time the Nightmare was feeding off him. He’s got nothing.”

            The girls both huff as they grab Johnny and lead him away.

            They find their classroom and let themselves in. There are easels with large sketch paper and different pencils, erasers, and sharpeners lined up throughout the room. A few of the easels are already taken, mostly by young adults like them. They pick three easels next to each other in the middle of the room and wait for the class to begin.

            The teacher comes in a few minutes later. He’s dressed in a black, semi-formal suit. He stands at the front of the room and examines the class.

            “Welcome to sketching class,” he says, “here I will attempt to teach you the most basic form of drawing but I can’t guarantee anything. Not everyone is born with a natural talent for art, like I was.”

            “Pretentious and arrogant,” Johnny mumble, “a double threat.”

            “The best way to get better at anything is practice, but that will only get you so far,” the teacher continues, “so to begin I want you all to sketch this bowl of fruit.”

            He goes into a nearby closet and produces a bowl of apples, oranges, and bananas, which he rests on the front desk.

            “I will be going around critiquing your work but don’t let that pressure you,” he says, “remember if you’re not good it’s not your fault. You just weren’t born with the proper skills.”

            The students pick up their pencils and start drawing on the easels. The teacher walks down the rows, quietly looking over everyone’s shoulders. Occasionally he’ll make some sort of noise, like a sigh or a snort that sound derisive.

            Johnny tries to ignore him and focuses on drawing. It’s been a while since he drew something other than loudmouth stick figures. It’s a little difficult but he doesn’t hate it.

            The teacher comes by and glances at his work. He lets out a small scoff and a bolt of fury shoots up Johnny’s spine.

            “I see some talent here,” the teacher says as he walks up to the front of the room. “But mostly I just see false hope. You poor souls enter this class thinking you can just learn talent. I hate to tell you this, but art isn’t for everybody. Better you quit now before you really fail.”

            Johnny growls and squeezes his pencil.

            “Not everybody can be as skilled as I am.”

            The pencil snaps in half.

            “That’s it!” Johnny barks as he throws aside his easel and stomps up to the front of the room. “You arrogant, pretentious, annoying asshole! I’m gonna cut out your irritating vocal chords with my pencil and hang you with them!”

            The teacher cowers before Johnny’s booming voice and terrifying scowl while Devi and Tenna race over and hold him back.

            “Okay, time to go,” Tenna says as they start pushing him to the door.

            “Let go of me! That annoying thing doesn’t deserve to live!” Johnny shouts.

            They successfully get him out into the hallway, where everyone is staring. After a few seconds, Johnny gives up. He drops his broken pencil and trudges down the hall. Devi and Tenna follow close behind.

            “Well, that was a disaster,” Devi comments.

            “Maybe tomorrow will be better,” Tenna shrugs.

            The next day they have their painting class. They drive to the school and head to the classroom.

            “You think you can behave yourself today?” Devi asks, “we’re lucky nobody called the cops after your little episode yesterday.”

            “That douche had it coming,” Johnny growls.

            They let themselves in and pick their easels. Each one has a canvas and some painting supplies. The teacher is already there. She’s built like a cute dwarf and is dressed in really bright clothes.

            “Welcome to painting class, everyone,” she chirps, “here I’m gonna teach you the basics of painting. But remember: the most important rule is to have fun.”

            “Is this teacher better than yesterday’s?” Tenna whispers, “at least she’s not arrogant.”

            “Her giddiness makes me sick,” Johnny mutters.    

            “Yeah, me too,” Devi agrees.

            “Now painting isn’t just about using colours to draw an object,” the teacher explains, “it should be about expressing your feelings and putting those onto your canvas. Paint what you feel. So to start off, I want everyone to paint something that makes them happy.”

            “Happy?” Johnny questions.

            “Just paint Squee,” Devi shrugs, “he makes you happy, right?”

            Johnny groans in reply as he picks up his paintbrush. He stares at the colours and then at the canvas and back at the colours. How does he even begin?             He dips the brush in black paint and starts dragging it somewhat absentmindedly across the canvas. Squee has black hair. He could try painting that.

            After a few minutes he’s somewhat successfully painted a rather messy looking portrait of Squee. He’s not really sure how to feel about it. This whole assignment makes him…uncomfortable.

            The teacher comes by and examines his work.

            “Okay, that’s a very nice portrait,” she says, “but I want you to paint how this person makes you feel.”

            “How the hell do I do that?” Johnny asks.

            “Be creative. Use different colours and brushstrokes. Think about how you feel when you’re with this person and paint it. Use your imagination and visualize your feelings.”

            He just stares at her with a blank, somewhat irritated expression.

            “You... do have feelings, don’t you?” she asks.

            Johnny growls with annoyance and squeezes his paintbrush. Then he catches Devi watching him from the corner of her eye.

            He can’t do anything here. If he tries, he’ll miss his shot just like yesterday.

            He huffs, drops his paintbrush, and stomps away. “I’m done.”

            The next day is pottery class. It seems like an odd choice to Johnny until Tenna says that she’s always wanted to try it.

            The teacher seems tolerable at first. He sticks to the basics as he explains how to make pottery.

            “The most important thing is to be gentle,” he says sternly, “you don’t wanna squeeze the clay too hard or you won’t be able to shape anything.”

            The students get to work on making their pottery. Devi and Tenna enjoy themselves. Playing with the clay is messy and fun. But the second Johnny puts his hand on it, clay splatters all over his shirt and the floor.

            “I told you, you got to be gentle,” the teacher snaps as he comes over. “Try it again and this time control your strength.”             Johnny tries again with the same result, except this time clay also splatters all over the teacher.

            “Ugh, what did I just say?” he barks, “you need to be more careful! Can’t you be the least bit gentle? Pottery is a delicate art!”

            He constantly scolds Johnny like a child while his anger slowly rises. Devi and Tenna watch wearily, knowing it’s only a matter of time now.

            He snaps quickly. He grabs the teacher by the back of his head, slams his face into the clay, and stomps out of the classroom.

            Devi and Tenna sigh with defeat. They apologize to the teacher, help him clean up, and leave.

            “This was a total failure,” Devi groans as they leave the school.

            “Yeah, but in hindsight I guess we should’ve known it wouldn’t end well,” Tenna points out.

            Johnny is leaning against their car when they arrive, tapping his fingers angrily on his arms as he waits.

            “I knew this would all be a waste of time,” he scoffs with annoyance.

            “Yeah and you were right,” Devi snaps, “sorry for taking an interest in your personal life.”

            “You should be,” he retorts, “it’s not like I ever ask for it.”

            He gets off the car and goes into the backseat.

            “Why do we even try to be friends with him?” Devi growls.

            “Well…we like being around Squee,” Tenna shrugs.

            They get into the car and drive away.

            Later that evening, after Johnny has picked up Squee from Skool, the two of them laze about on the couch and watch TV.

            “So the hobby search didn’t work out,” Squee states.

            “No,” Johnny growls, “I guess the Doughboys were right. I really am hollow.”

            “Well, hey, you draw Happy Noodle Boy sometimes,” Squee points out in an attempt to make him feel better.

            “That doesn’t require imagination,” Johnny scoffs.

            “No, I guess not,” he sighs.

            “Oh, well,” he grunts, “it doesn’t matter anymore. I lost that part of myself so long ago I don’t even remember it.”

            “Maybe you’ll reinvent it someday,” Squee suggests, “like how you’ve been reinventing yourself for the past couple years.”

            He shrugs. “Yeah. Maybe.”

            Later that night, after Squee’s gone to bed, Johnny goes downstairs into his underground floors. He goes down a couple levels and goes into a room with dim light and lots of tables holding multiple sharp objects. In the middle of the room, three familiar people are tied to bolted-down chairs: the teachers for each of his community classes.

            “Maybe I am hollow,” Johnny says, “I’m no longer creative and I can’t use my imagination. I see things I had drawn in the past but I don’t remember drawing them or what I felt at the time.”

            “You three are art teachers. I assume you must be very imaginative and creative, although I haven’t seen evidence to support that theory. All you guys did was lord your creativity over everyone like some arrogant wannabe god,” he rambles as he picks up a three-bladed knife with serrated edges.

            “Still, teachers are meant to help their students,” he says as he faces them. “So do any of you have any advice for me as to how I can be creative again?”

            They only whimper and sob fearfully in response.

            Johnny glares at them with disappointment then sighs, “ah, well. I’ll reinvent myself some other day.”

            He lifts his knife and slices through their chests simultaneously.