#This turned out to be 779 words long *laughs in normal*

[xenia12]

Greetings, frog Tumblr! Welcome to my impulsive, salt-induced Amphibia rant!!

This where I’m gonna ramble about Anne’s nonchalance and near indifference towards Marcy’s whole situation despite, not only supposedly wielding the “heart” gem (which embodies empathy, selflessness, and responsibility), but also the fact that she has been friends with Marcy since before kindergarten and has previously been very protective of her.

So STRAP IN, frogs, newts, toads, and hummuses alike cuz HERE WE GO

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[in TV announcer voice] Brought to you by unhinged screaming in a discord server with @froggythesculptor.

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Alrighty, we’ll start with Anne’s relationship with Marcy in “Marcy at the Gates”!!

When Marcy is about to jump in and save Sprig from the barbariant queen, Anne stops her and says she can do it herself. Marcy argues and asks about why she won’t let her go before Anne shouts, “Because I just got you back, okay?!” She then adds:

So worried and sensitive, right? Well, let’s move onto “True Colors” :)

-

When Sprig is dropped by Andrias, Anne is so overcome by grief and rage that she actually activates her powers for the first time. She didn’t even see him hit the ground, yet still seems broken by the perceived loss.

However, when Marcy, her life-long friend, gets a giant flaming sword through the chest, uses what she thought would be her last breath to apologize, and collapses lifelessly to the floor, Anne simply shouts her name then basically goes, “Oh, I’m home now. Anyways-”

She has the shiny eyes here but doesn’t shed even a single tear until “All In” after Marcy is freed. Like, girl, you watched the friend that you’ve probably know longer than anyone except your own parents get brutally murdered 5 feet in front of you. How are you fine???

Of course it’s understandable for Anne to feel betrayed by Marcy after her truth is revealed. After all, she’s been trapped away from her home and family for 5 months and near-death experiences have become a worryingly routine thing for her in Amphibia.

The thing is that, with Sasha, despite her trying to knowingly and intentionally kill Hop Pop (and at one point Sprig), Anne still later said that “Sasha and I might be going through a rough patch, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about her” (S2 E6). Plus, after Sasha showed a little remorse then let go of her hand at Toad Tower, letting herself plummet so her friend could get away, Anne was sobbing just a minute later. She even saw Grime catch her so she knew Sasha was going to be okay.

The most logical conclusion Anne should’ve come to after going through that portal was that Marcy was dead. Yet, we’ve seen her get far more worked up about someone that, not only also betrayed her, but was clearly saved and alive. And, in earlier episodes, Anne seemed so much closer to and more protective of Marcy than Sasha… So I’m honestly confused.

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As far as season 3 episodes 1-15, I wanna believe that Anne was simply in denial and didn’t want to bring it up, but it’s stuff like her being “stabbed” by the toy flame sword (in “Escape to Amphibia”) and simply laughing that make it hard for me to genuinely think that. When I just saw that happen through a screen I froze and stopped breathing for a second and it took me a bit to compose myself after. But Anne lived through both the actual event and the reminder yet didn’t react?

Also when Sasha passingly mentioned that Marcy was still alive, just captured, Anne simply sighed and said “thank goodness” before changing the topic. Like????

-

Now for “The Beginning of the End” :D

When first faced with Darcy, Anne (and Sasha kinda, but her reaction is more expected/normal for her tbh and imma not focus on her here anyway) was initially confused but, once she knew the jist of what was happening, she was just angry. She didn’t take a second to mourn or feel bad for her friend and skipped straight to getting mad. I was expecting some sort of guilt for not getting there earlier and maybe even an attempt at an “I know you’re in there!” speech (I wouldn’t want it to work but I feel like Anne would’ve been one to try that), but guess not.

Insert text “Yeah, we gay. Keep scrolling.”

-

BUT THERE IS HOPE!! Marcy’s Journal is gonna have a section written by S3 Anne, so we might get some Annegst >:3. I doubt they can entirely salvage this with just a book (the show is the great majority of the story, after all), but something is better than nothing lol.

[genevievemd]

#2 and #7 please 😊

The Glow

Book: Open Heart (Beyond) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 779 Rating: G Category: fluff Trope(s):

Summary: Ethan is certain his wife is pregnant, his wife says otherwise. One of them is write.

Warnings: none

A/N: It’s so fluffy you’ll need a dentist after. Hope you like it nonny!

He’s’ been suspicious for weeks, but now he’s sure. Watching Genevieve feed their two year old daughter, he can see the glow. The air around her is different, exactly how it was when she was pregnant with their Elizabeth. 

They decided to start trying for a second baby just a few months before Lizzie turned two, and now three months later, Ethan was certain his wife was pregnant again.

Even if it wasn’t for the “glow”, she’s been showing signs. She more tired than normal, nauseous almost every morning, and has already become averse to the same foods from her last pregnancy. 

“Are you going to stand there and staring, or actually come over here?” Gen turns from her spot beside Lizzie, smiling at him in a way that melts his heart. 

“You’re glowing.” 

“What?” 

“You’re glowing, you java that –”

“Don’t say it.” Gen holds her hand up, stopping him in his tracks. 

“You know I’m right, G.” 

“No. I don’t.” She gets up from her seat, walking over to the kitchen sink. Eyes still focused on their daughter happily eating her broccoli. 

“Have you taken a test?” Ethan joins her at the sink, leaning down to kiss her head. 

“No.” 

“Because, it would be a waste. You remember how long it took to get pregnant with Lizzie, there’s no way it happened this fast this time.” She sighs in defeat, leaning into his chest. 

“Gen,” He quickly takes her in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. “You’ve been sick, tired, and haven’t touched your beloved Gushers in weeks. Plus, as previous stated, you have the glow.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” She snorts, and though he can’t see her face Ethan is certain she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Are you questioning my diagnosis, Dr. McClure?” 

“Hey.” She leans back, eyes wide with mock offense. “That’s McClure-Ramsey, old man.” 

Although his wife corrects him in jest, the joy quickly fades from her eyes, falling back into his space with defeat. Her arms winding around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as she can. Ethan is quick to follow, pulling her closer. His own arms back around her petite frame. 

“I don’t want to be disappointed when it comes back negative.” 

“You won’t be, because I am 99.9% sure you’re pregnant, baby.” 

“Fine, for using my favorite pet name, like the jerk you are, I will go take a stupid test.” Gen removes herself from his embrace, walking towards their bedroom. She stops at the doorway, turning to look back at him. “But when it comes back negative, you owe me a lot of snuggling once our tiny terror is in bed.” 

“Done.” He promises with a smile, waiting until she’s disappear into the bedroom to move from his spot. 

He walks over to their daughter, taking the seat his wife was in just a few minutes ago. 

“You think daddy’s right, don’t you sweat pea?” Ethan tilts his head, smiling at Lizzie. 

“Yes!.” She offers him the broccoli stem clutched tightly in her little hand, returning his smile with one of her own. 

She looks just like Gen when she smiles, and it always makes his chest tight. Although, if he was honest, Elizabeth Grace Ramsey was the spitting image of her mother. The difference was that she inherited Ethan’s blue eyes and not Gen’s green. 

“Okay, here you go.” His wife comes out of their bedroom, pregnancy test in hand. “One more minute and I’ll be proven right.” She drops it onto the kitchen island, before joining him and Lizzie at the dining table. 

“I’ll have you know, our daughter agrees with me.” 

“Oh, does she?” Gen laughs, leaning down to brush the hair away from Lizzie’s face. “You think daddy’s right?” 

“Yes!” Lizzie smiles again, before reaching her hand out. “More.” 

“She got your eating habits.” She shakes her head, sinking into a chair, “I hate broccoli.” 

“She knows she needs proper nutrition to be as smart as her mom.” Ethan offers Lizzie another piece. “How much longer?” 

Just as he finished his question, the timer on Gen’s phone goes off. He gets up from the table, walking to grab the test off the counter. 

The second his eyes land on the blue and white plastic, he feels his eyes water and his heart grow three sizes. 

“Well, was I right?” 

“No.” Ethan holds up the test, unable to contain the joy bubbling to the service. 

“Shut up!” Gen leaps up from the table, rushing over to him. She rips the test out of his hand, gasping when she sees the word pregnant spelled out, clear as day. “I’m pregnant.” 

“Told you.” 

A/N: And nine months later, Grayson Henry Ramsey is born. 

Pregnancy Prompts

Tagging Separately

[bromberryx]

Is that your dog?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You´re at the park with your dog and you spot a cute dog - and his good-looking owner ;)

Warnings: mentions of abuse, beard kink, irony

Word count: 779

A/N: I´m trying to improve my writing :) I still struggle sometimes, but I hope you don´t mind if there are some mistakes. Also: Sorry that I didn´t post in the past weeks, I didn´t feel like writing at all. 

Also: I´d really appreciate any feedback ^^

***

***

It was almost dark outside. You moved your blanket off your legs and took your phone off the table in front of you. 

8:02pm, time to walk your dog. „Winnie!“ You yelled, hearing big paws running towards you after. 

A few moments later, you stepped out of the front door of the house. You just put on some boots and a jacket, you didn´t feel the need to put on a bra. Normally there weren´t that many people at the park anyways. 

Winnie was running in happiness, enjoying the cold and fresh air. 

While walking next to your dog, some thoughts came to your head. 

How much you would enjoy meeting someone. No, not someone, THE one.

You had been single for a long time now. After your last ex-boyfriend, you didn´t really feel like wanting to have a relationship ever again. 

Abusive relationships never leave a good feeling.

So you haven´t had a boyfriend in 5 years now. Well, you went on some dates, had some amazing nights with 3 or 4 of the guys, but none of them seemed to be the type of guy that wants to spend a life with you.

So you waited and waited, but you never met someone that made you feel good.

Interrupting your thoughts, Winnie was barking and jumping, expanding the dog leash to the max.

You tried to see what made her so upset.

A cat. Oh, what else could it be. You shushed at Winnie, trying to shut her up, but the Saint Bernard began to run, ripping the dog leash out of your tired hand. You tried to run after her, but she was too fast. She was gone.

You sighed in annoyance and tiredness. You saw her running into the park, most of the street lamps were out of order, so you weren´t able to see that much.

Your hand slipped into the pocket of your jacket, frantically looking for your phone. 

„Oh, of course I left it at home.“ You rolled your eyes, making your way into the dark.

Under other circumstances, the atmosphere would´ve been beautiful. The sounds of the trees in the wind, birds singing quietly. The sky was beautiful and full of stars.

The second time this day, something interrupted your thoughts. But this time, it wasn´t Winnie, no. „Is that your dog?“

You turned around and looked at a shadow of a man. He held 2 dog leashes in his hand, one dog didn´t seem familiar, but the other one was:

„Winnie! There you are!“ You ran towards the three, patting Winnie and putting a kiss on her face.  „How dare you to run away from me, little girl. Do not do that again, okay?“

You could´t be mad at her, she was adorable.

You stood up, taking the dog leash and looking into friendly eyes of the man who caught your dog.

He reminded you of a teddy bear. His full-face beard and gentle smile on his pink lips made you inhale sharply. You had a thing for bearded men, and not only looked his beard great - no, he was handsome! He wore a dark blue sweater and light blue jeans that fit his body perfectly. On his neck you could see chain, glowing in the dim light. 

„Th- thank you f-for catching her. She normally doesn´t run away.“ You spoke nervously, giggling at his gentle response:

„You´re welcome. Dodger helped a lot, the two seem to like each other.“ His smile was warm and welcoming. „My name´s Chris by the way. Nice to meet you.“ 

You took his hand and shook it for too long while saying „Y/N. Nice to meet you too.“ His hand was warm and soft. You wished you could stay with him for a little longer. 

Chris frowned a little in confusion, when you finally realized that you must have been shaking hands for longer than the average hand shake length. Hands parted and you looked on the floor in embarassement. 

Perfect introduction. Staring at a stranger and shaking his hand for too long. 

Anyways, he seemed nice and you decided to shoot your shot.

„You said your dog- Dodger, right?“ He nodded. „Dodger and Winnie seem to like each other… how about we give them the opportunity to meet again?“ Wow, what a good flirt that was, Y/N. 

But Chris laughed and his right hand moved to his left boobie.

„Absolutely. Meet me and Dodger at the park at 3pm tomorrow?“

You nodded, a wide smile spreading on your face now.

„See you tomorrow then, Chris.“

Maybe, after you had waited for so long, he was the one.

[mildkatfics]

visit  rating: g word count: 779 summary: Natasha Grimm-Pitch visits when the Veil lifts again, twenty years later.

read on ao3

It’s been twenty years, but the cold gust of wind feels exactly the same. Simon feels goosebumps ripple across his skin; that’s what wakes him up. His eyelids flutter open, and before he could look at the time, take in the morning light starting to creep through the window, or even open his other eye, he sees her.

Golden skin. Formal robes. Sharp nose.

<i>Headmistress Pitch.</i> Before he could speak to her, though, she speaks first.

“You’re not him.” He sees her eyes grow wide and glassy. “This is not possible. This is his place. You’re not my...” She stops talking when he feels the lump beside him abruptly sit up. When she sees him, her face breaks into a million pieces. “My Basil.” She floats over their bed, until she can hold his face in her hands.

In the pale light, Simon can see Baz’s face. How his eyes are impossibly wide. How his neck jolts down as he swallows. How his lips quiver, before splitting into a smile. “Mother?”

She laughs softly, delight spilling out. She presses their foreheads together. “My son.”

Baz grips her wrists. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”

She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

Simon wants to slip off the bed and leave the room—there’s no one who wants Baz to have this with his mum more than him—but he’s afraid of drawing attention. But Baz takes his hand before he can start to try (he’s since learned that vampires can’t actually read minds, but he’s decided it to be a Baz ability rather than a vampire ability).

“Mother, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Baz looks away from his mother for the first time since he saw her—and looks at Simon. He shifts their hands and interlocks their fingers. He turns back to her. “This is Simon. My love.”

“Headmistress,” Simon bows his head. “It’s an honour.”

She lets one hand drop from Baz’s face and uses it to touch Simon’s. Seh tilts his chin upwards, ever so slightly. “I remember you. You were in his place back then, and here you are, in his place again. In the House of Pitch, no less.”

Simon chuckles and looks into her eyes. There was a time when he wouldn’t have even looked at a ghost directly, and another when he thought he wouldn’t be able to. “Forgive me.”

She smiles at him and leans in. “Hush.” She kisses his temple, the same place as she did all those years ago. “This one is for you this time,” she whispers. She floats back to Baz and does the same to him. Her finger catches a tear rolling down his cheek. “My Basil. I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry I left you.”

When Baz speaks, his voice cracks. “<i>I’m</i> sorry. I’m not what you...I’m...”

“You’re my son,” Natasha finishes for him. She puts a hand on his heart. “You’re my darling, perfect son. I’m proud of everything you are.” She starts to fade away and Baz grips onto her tighter.

“I miss you.” Baz whispers.

“Oh, Basil. You’re not alone anymore...” She fades away, as if she were a trick of the light. The room is still cold.

Simon pulls his hand away from Baz’s grip and uses it to rub his back. Baz looks like...well, like he’s seen a ghost. Simon keeps quiet, resting his cheek on his partner’s shoulder.

“She looks just how I remember her,” Baz murmurs.

Simon just hums.

“She would have loved you.”

At that, Simon snorts. “No, she wouldn’t have.”

Baz shoves his shoulder against his face. “She would have.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she would have loved to see her darling tosser son shack up with a Normal chav.”

When Baz shrugs, Simon kisses his shoulder. “Tragic, isn’t it?. My poor mother.”

“That’s alright. <i>I</i> love her.” Under his hand, Simon can feel Baz start to tremble. “I’m gonna shower.” Simon plants another kiss, on the collarbone this time, and when he dips out of bed, Baz lets him.  

He busies himself in the bathroom, tidies the parlour, and starts breakfast in the kitchen. He’s prepared to spend all day by himself. Prepared to give Baz all the time he needs. It doesn’t take long until Simon hears the violin, slow and careful, echoing from the library. Baz must have left the door open to let the music travel freely, and for that Simon is grateful.

Outside, the pale light slowly turns into gold streams of the early afternoon. Pitch Manor is a lot less dark than it used to be.

[hughiecampbelle]

TV Lied To Me (Tony Stark Drabble)

Character/s: Tony

Word Count: 779

Inspired By: Moral of the Story by Ashe

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @hypsiacrobasiphobia @way-obsessed-5 @melody-of-scream

A/N: I wanted to write tonight, but it just didn’t happen. Been a long week and none of the words felt right. This has been sitting in my writers block folder for awhile, and though I’m not entirely in love with this, I figured it’s not doing any good sitting with half finished ideas. Anyways, sorry about the lack of writing lately! Still trying to get back on my feet with everything. Xoxoxo💜

You had the kind of love you believed could be saved by babies. A ring, a house, the white picket fence. If you had that, you had it all… . right? Love that sat in chunky tv’s, black and white sitcoms with strict roles, rules, you were drowning in the martinis after work type of attitude. Cut your hands open on the long list of chores turned love letters. Choked on bathtub cleaner, burned yourself on the iron, burned his shirts. On accident, at first. Then not.

Some mistakes get made. That’s alright. That’s okay.

A surprise engagement. A yes, a kiss, a thought: the easiest ways to break your own finger. Everything with him was impulsive, driven by a force, a single thought. You could see it behind the guests, the clapping, over his shoulder while you shared this special moment: red flags. Doubt settled within your bones the second you slipped it around your finger. The happiness he wore a shade you’d never seen before, one that reassured you he truly believed he was fixing whatever was wrong. Adjust the antennas, hit the remote, the static on the screen growing a little clearer. Old fashioned, believed he could fix everything on his own.

You can think that you’re in love when you’re really in pain.

You could picture it, that fence. Crooked, lopsided, nothing like those old shows said it would be. No patches of perfect green grass for the kids to run around on. No windows to let pie cool on, no chipper welcome mat that invited guests in. There was uneven, cracked, rat infested sidewalks. There was thirty floor with sleek windows that refused to open. Security by the front door. You guessed all those suburban homes were simply missing out… Nothing from the tv reflected in your own life. So, you turned it off. The static became deafening over the car horns, the paparazzi, your own screams.

Some mistakes get made. That’s alright. That’s okay.

You had dreams. Of painting your house together. Cliché dates. One milkshake, two straws. Drive in movies. Flowers in vases and kissing on the first date. First a dog, then kids. Growing up, old, two rocking chairs. This was not that. Rewatching shows, cartoons, horror stories of your childhood, a time in grainy scenes and pleated skirts, a stay at home and a bread winner. Behind the cameras, off screen, there were blinding lights, there were crews and an audience. You were the only one watching this love story crumble. No crowd to laugh and clap when you fought, when you lost your ring on purpose, when you went to bed angry. Curlers in your hair, his tie unbuttoned, worried by things that would be resolved at the end of each episode. No director yelling cut. This was not that.

Some mistakes get made. That’s alright. That’s okay.

You thought you knew him, you wanted to at least. A man made of complications and contradictions. Maybe you knew parts, fell in love with the ones you liked, the ones that fit the mold. The rest were ignored, or never seen at all. Moving too fast, too soon, the way the young always do. Disagreements turned something else, something more. Your addiction for one another putting up a facade. Words too bitter, names too childish. No marriage would survive this kind of engagement. Fighting the whole time.

Some mistakes get made. That’s alright. That’s okay.

No divorce, no court, no kids to think about. He could keep his own, you would find yours. Slide the ring across the table. No kiss goodbye, not this time. Who knew it would be the last? Feeling foolish. The tabloids slander your name, his, both. This was the easiest part of your relationship by far. You hung up your apron, the curlers, the iron. No more dress up. This wasn’t the kind of thing you could switch channels for, there was no fast forwarding through the bad parts of life. No commercial break, no screen going black, no end credits. The dream was gone, but not forgotten. You wanted something normal. This was not that. Someone to come home to, to have a family with on a quiet street. You should have known all along, when you pictured it, he was never in it. Give him time. Time to mature. He would want that, and he would have that, but not now. You couldn’t wait that long. Besides, you believed it would all work out. Everything would be right in the end.

In the end it’s better for me, that’s the moral of the story.

[waywardnerd67]

Pretty Please

Summary: Dean finds out an interesting tidbit about Isabella and begs her to show him her hidden talent.   Ship Pairing: Dean Winchester x Isabella @imascio08 Warnings: Fluff/Pouty Dean (because yes that is a warning) Word Count: 779 A/N: I tried to get the ballet terms and outfit as correct as possible. I never took ballet, so I was clueless. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Check out: Nerdy’s Ships Celebration Masterlist

Isabella sighed leaning her head back against her pillowed. Dean was lying beside her resting his head on his hand and smiling down on her.

“Are you serious?” he asked his olive eyes looking down at her with glee.

Isabella sighed, “Yes Dean, I trained in classical ballet for twelve years. Can we move on now?”

Dean sat up on his bed crossing his legs and shook his head, “I need to see this. Come on, Isabella. Please show me some of your moves.”

Now it was her turn to get up and she gracefully rolled out of his bed before he could stop her. “Nuh-uh, Winchester. That was a long time ago and you get all the benefits of my ballet training all the time.”

His beaming smile and delightful laughter filled his room, “That’s why you’re so bendy?! Oh, now I definitely have to see you perform. Pretty please, Isabella?” He asked as she shook her head walking out of his room. “Isabella!” he called out as she made her way down to her room.

Over the next few days, Dean would not stop asking her about her ballet training. She could not even look to Sam for help since he was just as curious as Dean was. She pulled out her trunk from under her bed filled with all the items from her past life. The life she knew before living with the Winchesters.

A small smile spread across her lips as she pulled out the familiar leggings, leotards and ballet slippers. Slipping out of her normal jeans and t-shirt, she put on her ballet clothes. Hunting and training with the Winchesters had kept her petite body in shape everything fitting her perfectly. Grabbing her phone and slippers she snuck down to the training room.

She guided her feet into the slippers wrapping her ankles securely. She spread her legs as wide as they could go and began stretching her body out. It was when she heard a low raspy voice from the door that she noticed Dean standing there watching her.

“Good god…” He whispered his jaw slacked slightly.

She laughed continuing to stretch, “Alright, Alright I will show you some moves. But only you and not Sam.”

Dean quickly pulled up a chair sitting down, “Forget Sammy, I want this all to myself.” He said as she stood up.

She found a song on her Spotify list hitting play. She closed her eyes letting the music invade every part of her and she let go of the bind holding her body back. Feeling as free as a bird in the sky, her body moved gracefully across the concrete floor.

She allowed herself to forget about her surroundings and just dance. As the song came to a close she finished with a Pirouette on pointe. Her short brown hair was down in front of her eyes as she peeked over to Dean who was sitting there stunned.

“So, what did you think?” she asked nervously.

He stood up wrapping his arms around small waist picking her up and twirling her around. “That was beautiful, Isabella! I didn’t think you could be any more beautiful but once again you prove me wrong.”

Dean set her down and she pressed her lips against his. “Now, I think I want to put your ballet skills to some other uses that should send Sammy running to the hills.” He said picking her up over his shoulder as she giggled.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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[virgiltheanxious]

Prince With Glasses

Title: Prince With Glasses

Pairing: None

Warning: None

Word Count: 779

Summary: Prince's contacts aren't working so he has to use glasses.

I thought of this au and talking about it on Tumblr (prinxietys account) sparked some inspiration. Also I had this happen to me yesterday and I thought about it happening to Prince and laughed at the thought. (This was made in April bye the way??)

Groaning, Prince slammed his hand on the table.

He had succesfully gotten one contact in his left eye, and that one was fine. Perfect, even.

But this one contact refused to cooperate. He had been trying to get this contact in his eye for a minute now- it should have taken him about thirty seconds to put both of them in- and it was taking much too long for his liking because he was hungry and just wanted to go to the kitchen to eat.

Eventually, he got the contact in and smiled in the mirror, adjusting his outfit. He looked wonderful.

As he walked to the kitchen, he ignored the irritation that his right eye was giving him, assuming that it would go away soon. That's how it usually worked, anyway.

He had decided to go for toast with jam on it when Anxiety walked in.

"Hello, emo nightmare," he said, dropping his toast in the toaster and pulling out the jam he selected.

Prince received a grunt in response, but he just continued to wait for his toast to finish.

When Prince turned around, Anxiety looked up.

"Why is your eye so red?" Anxiety asked him.

"Pardon?"

"Your right eye is irritated it doesn't look too bad, but it's noticeable," Anxiety explained, then went back to his phone and eating cereal.

Prince shrugged Anxiety's comment off and are his toast silently. His eye didn't bother him too much, anyway.

-----

By midday, Prince had already cleaned his contact and put it back in. He decided to try and fix his problem but, unfortunately, it only made his situation worse. He was trying to work with Thomas on creating a script for a video when he really started noticing how bad it was.

The room, though only as lit up as much as normal, was just too bright for Prince. He cover his face as much as possible as he and Thomas wrote down ideas.

Sure, the brightness hurt his eyes, but he needed to focus so he could help Thomas finish this. He could go through the little bit of pain for Thomas.

-----

When Prince came back to the mindscape, he was well aware of the fact that he was crying.

Not because I was sad or anything. It was because of his eye. Again.

Why did this happen to him, anyway? He just wanted to see.

He walked with his head up tall, despite the tears coming down his face every now and again.

"Are you crying?"

"It's a reflex, Anxiety."

There was a short from the other man. "What do you mean it's a reflex?"

"It's my contact, I suppose it happens to you on occasion as well, doesn't it?" Prince responded.

"What do you mean? I don't even wear contacts," Anxiety blurted.

"You don't? Then how do you see?" Prince questioned.

"I don't, really. Your face is blurry, actually," Anxiety commented, squinting at the boy in front of him.

"I'm standing five feet away from you. It's no wonder you're always tripping over things. Now, if you'd excuse me, I need to go take care of my eye," Prince replied as he walked off to his bedroom.

He took out both contacts and threw them away, deciding to just get rid of the pair and use a new pair tomorrow.

He sighed as he looked at his own blurry face in the mirror, opening the drawer next to him to find a case with his glasses in them. He took the cloth from the container and cleaned off his glasses before setting them on his nose.

He looked in the mirror again, pleased to see that he could actually look at things again. His right eye was extremely red, he noticed. He was sure that tomorrow it would be okay to wear contacts again but, for now, he let his eye be.

-----

When he came to join Anxiety, Logic, and Morality at dinner, they were all suprised to see his glasses.

"You have impaired eyesight?" Logic asked.

"We all do. What did you think, Anxiety and I could see perfectly and Morality and you were the only ones that were blind?"

"Technically-" "So you wear contacts? And so does Anxiety?" Morality interrupted Logan with his question, practically jumping in his chair.

"Yes, I normally wear contacts, mine were not working with me today. I cannot say the same for Anxiety, though," Prince explained.

"I've worn them before, I stole some of Princey's for important events," Anxiety said, picking at his food. "Like Thomas's videos. It's why I'm not so clumsy before and after we record."

"So that's where my contacts always go!"