#fdsdca I’m hesitant to post this but whatevs

[mepencil]

fanfic thing uhhh yeah

Hi guys mepencil here from objectconfessions

This is blog is like an ask/RP sideblog for me and oc-version of mepencil

This fanfic is an introduction to their role in the ii universe

Uhhh tw for Big Asshole Yang Hours, it can be a little iffy for sensitive nb’s bc big misgender hours for plot point

 Paintbrush lay on their front on the mediocre hotel bed, staring listlessly at the little crab that scuttled back and forth on the quilt. They let out a huff, the rush of air surprising their crab friend. “Sorry Baxter,” they sighed. Sure, it was nice to not have the stress of the competition on their back, but they were still afraid. Afraid for Lightbulb, and Test Tube, and...well, Marshmallow was still missing, and apparently Apple had vanished with only a broken window left behind as well, according to the other eliminated contestants.  To be honest, Paintbrush was scared. What if something really bad had happened to them? What if that happened to the others? Or Paintbrush themself?  It certainly was a thought that Paintbrush deserved to be scared of.  Baxter flopped off his feet, making a discontent noise. Paintbrush scooped him up and arranged him in their brush, the place he had seemed to claim and vanish into and out of at inopportune times. Paintbrush was 99% sure that Salt and Pepper were still deathly afraid of the little crustacean.  They sat up and scooted off the bed, deciding that they were hungry. It was late morning, after all, and they hadn’t gone downstairs yet. The upper floors of the hotel were empty and quiet, but Paintbrush could still hear the muffled sound of Salt and Pepper yelling about something, and the bustle of OJ and Cherries in the kitchen. They were surprised the yelling of Yang wasn’t to be heard, but then they saw that the two’s bedroom door was still closed.  Paintbrush made their way to the elevator and pressed the button for ground floor. They muttered an obscenity or two at the horrible music choices of OJ, the sounds of which played softly in the minute-ride to the bottom of the building.  It was always a challenge to maneuver around the morning hustle-and-bustle, but Paintbrush had quickly forged themself a tactic, weaving around the many objects crowding around, expertly keeping their bowl of cereal steady. Trophy frowned at them when his attempt to trip them failed miserably, and they grinned defiantly in his face.  They plopped themself down at an empty chair at the table next to a sniffing Tissues. “How have the new meds been treating you?” they asked him.  Tissue sniffed again. “W-Well, I haben’t been sneezig as much…”  “A relief for you and everyone else,” Painty sighed.  “Sorry…”  “Meh. You couldn’t help it.”  “Thangks…”  Paintbrush shrugged. “Hmph.”  Across the open space a firm knock came at the door. Somehow it was easily heard above the hustle and bustle of the fight for the first at the pancake mix, and everyone paused a moment, even Soap, who was furiously cleaning up after the messier ones.  “...someone gonna get that?” Cherries’ left half asked.  “I will,” Balloon said, hurriedly jumping up from his seat at the table and running towards the door.  A tall cylindrical figure stood outside the hotel, hand on one hip.  They glanced a moment, back at the staring faces of the objects eating breakfast, then smiled. “Heyo!”  “...hi?” Balloon finally said.  “Sorry if I’ve interrupted anything,” the newcomer apologized, then gestured to those in the kitchen. “Do continue!” They turned back to Balloon. “Could I perhaps come inside?”  “Uh.” Balloon looked back towards OJ, who shrugged with a confused look on his face. “Sure.”  They stepped past Balloon into the place and looked around with a smile. “I like it,” they murmured.  OJ made his way past Soap and went to greet the newcomer. “Uh, welcome to Hotel OJ?” he said in confusion.  They turned back to look at him and smiled, They were a good bit taller than he was, and they held out their hand. “Thanks! I’m MePencil.”  He shook it. “Me...Pencil? You wouldn’t happen to be from Meeple, would you?”  “Yeah, easy to tell, ain’t it?” MePencil sighed, looking tired. “Adam wanted someone to...keep an eye on the eliminated contestants. Since, correct me if I’m wrong, Apple vanished, and MePhone ‘n’ Pad are having their own troubles with the contest…”  “They could’ve sent us a warning,” OJ muttered. “We don’t usually get people knocking on our door unless it’s...well, even that doesn’t happen anymore,” he murmured, glancing at Balloon (who had quietly returned to the table, where conversation was starting once more).  “You know how MePhone is,” MePencil shrugged. “Absentminded, to say it...kindly.”  “Well, I guess you’re allowed to stay here then. I’ll see if I can get you a room or something…”  “Just ignore me, it should be like I’m not even here!”  “We’re just starting breakfast...if you can call it that. Do you need to eat, or…?”  MePencil shrugged again. “I eat when I feel like it. Don’t worry about me, I’m like the babysitter that gets paid doing nothing. I’ll try not to bother y’all.”  “Well, I suppose,” OJ said unsurely. “If you need anything, though, just come find me.”  “Gotcha!” MePencil grinned, giving a thumbs-up. “I’ll be around.”

 “So, what do you think of him?” Paper asked.  “Huh?” Paintbrush asked, pulled away from the newspaper.  “MePencil.” Paper gestured to the corner of the room, where said personage was enveloped in a sketchbook. “What do you think?”  “I dunno.”  “I thought she was a girl,” Cherries butted in.  “Oh, don’t go starting this again!” Paper huffed. “He��s a boy. You can tell.”  “Girl. Can tell by the voice!”  “You could ask,” Painty muttered. Both of the objects shook their heads, and Paintbrush snorted. “No wonder you’ve never asked me. Not that I want to be bothered, anyway.”  Paper and Cherries looked a little guilty, but they said nothing.  “MePencil’s ok, though.”

 MePencil had taken to watching cartoons with Soap and Balloon in the mornings, sitting on the right arm of the couch in a debatably precarious position, sketchbook in hand. Sometimes they wrote, sometimes they drew, but it was pretty hard to tell the difference if you weren’t an artist. Or you could snoop on them from behind, but nobody had the courage to do that.  MePencil was, too, different from the other Meeple products. They were nice, sure, but there was something about them that intimidated everyone. Maybe their height. Maybe because they were there to keep everyone out of trouble. Maybe because they had no screen.  They were exuberant. It appeared that they were extroverted, but they normally didn’t speak unless spoken to and was often nowhere to be seen, probably in their room, which OJ had let them stay in.  Not doing a good job of babysitting, then, Paintbrush thought. Lazy.  They didn’t seem to eat much, either. Occasionally they would raid the fridge of its oranges, which no one commented on, but either than that not much.  They also seemed to have a very sarcastic sense of humor. “So, get this,” Nickel said. “When I asked MePencil if he was a boy or a girl, he said ‘I’m not legally obligated to answer that question.’ Like, how much more passive-aggressive can you be??” he complained.  “Not like you didn’t deserve it,” Paintbrush muttered under their breath. “Just deal with it, Nickel. Didn’t mean it to be disrespectful, I’m sure.”  MePencil often butted in on what other people were doing. They didn’t seem to intend to be rude, just curious, but it infuriated Paintbrush to no end. They weren’t sure what the others thought (probably a similar reaction) but they were quite annoyed with it.  “Whatcha drawin’?” MePencil asked, appearing abruptly beside Paintbrush on the hallway bench.  Paintbrush recoiled back in surprise, and MePencil flinched. “Do you mind??” Paintbrush snapped.  “Sorry!!” MePencil exclaimed. “I thought you know I was coming.”  “I was literally looking nowhere in your direction!”  “Sorry, sorry,” they continued. “I just assumed...artist, observant type...should’ve walked in front of you first!!”  Paintbrush snorted. “So you’re saying I’m inobservant.”  “No, no! You were probably just enveloped in your work. Or…” They trailed off and shook their head. “Nevermind. Sorry.”  The other sighed. “I don’t really like showing my work to other people,” they said.  “Oh, no, I get it,” MePencil nodded. “I’m the same way. I just enjoy meeting other artists, you know?”  “...can’t say I’m really too thrilled,” Paintbrush muttered.  “I can leave. Really, I just wanted someone to sit with, and everyone else is busy.”  “You can sit here, but don’t expect me to talk to you.”  “Oh, thank you!” MePencil grinned.  “Mmm. Whatever.” Paintbrush heard a whisper of a breath escape from their guest, a slight sign of...disappointment, perhaps. They chose to ignore it.  After some time MePencil spoke. “Your sketchbook is pretty beat up.”  “So?”  “I guess you’ve had it for a while, then. Surprised you’re not that far through it though.”  “I...don’t really draw that often,” Paintbrush replied hesitantly. “It’s not really a hobby.”  “Ah,” MePencil said, stealing a glance at what was on Painty’s paper. “I see.”  Paintbrush hid their sketchbook indignantly, and MePencil grinned slightly, guiltily. “Sorry to disappoint.”  “I’m not sad about it,” MePencil replied. “As long as we can get along.” They smiled cheerily. “I have many friends who aren’t artistic. It’s ok!”  Paintbrush huffed softly. “I’m perfectly artistic!”  “...that’s...not what I meant,” MePencil muttered, frowning. “But okay…”  “Hmph,” said Paintbrush, temper on the edge. Something about MePencil just set them off. They could feel their hair getting warmer, but they kept their cool in case Baxter had found his way into the bristles. It wasn’t MePencil’s fault that their nosiness had brought out those thoughts. They didn’t know and didn’t need to know.  Paintbrush shouldn’t be so angry.  They never should be, really.  “Yo, Paintbrush?” they heard, and fell out of the trance, looking towards MePencil. “You okay? You spaced out for a minute there…”  “...huh?”  “You kind of froze up,” MePencil said. “Like, you didn’t even blink.”  “Oh, uh. Sorry,” Paintbrush said. “Just thinking.”  “Hmm,” the other frowned, seemingly unconvinced. “About what? You were pretty out there.”  “None of your business,” Painty snapped.  “Okay, okay, I won’t pry,” MePencil nodded, their tone ever serious. “If you ever need to talk though, I’m available.”  Paintbrush stared a good long while at MePencil, surprised at the genuineness they had expressed.  Now there was a different side of any Meeple product.

 Paintbrush never took up MePencil’s offer, despite the fact they did really seem to mean it. They just weren’t ready to say anything. Not yet.

 “All right people, group activity!!” OJ exclaimed, arms up in the air.  Salt and Pepper instantly groaned, and then were consequently elbowed by Pickle and Paper.  “Meep here is st–”  “Ay, ay, no,” MePencil interrupted from the side of the audience. “Please don’t call me Meep!”  “Oh,” OJ said, embarrassed. “Is ‘MePence’ okay?”  “Sure.”  “All right, uh. So MePence here is still feeling left out–don’t think I haven’t noticed, Pence!–and as head of the household, we’re gonna participate in some good-old group activities!” OJ announced. “And don’t complain!” he added, squinting in S&P’s direction.  MePencil smiled at the gesture and shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”  “I’ve got a list here…” OJ said, looking at said piece of paper, which he obtained from nowhere. “Alright, listen up! We’re all gonna go on a hunt!”  “A hunt for what?” Nickel asked, somehow polite enough to not show his disdain like S&P.  “Everyone go look for the crab! Whoever finds it first gets dibs on the beanbag chair on movie night!”  “Done,” Paintbrush immediately said, procuring Baxter from their hair. “Beanbag chair’s mine.”  Everyone stared at them for a moment, and then S&P started complaining in protest.  “That’s not fair! It’s her crab!” “She just had it right there!” “That was a horrible challenge!” “No wonder he screwed up hosting for MePhone.”  MePencil took one look at Baxter and immediately started crooning over the crab as if it were a puppy. “He’s so cute!” they exclaimed, lifting him out of Painty’s hands.  Paintbrush gave them a look. “You and Lightbulb would get along,” they muttered.  MePence grinned, booping Baxter on his nonexistent nose and immediately getting pinched. “Ow,” they said, but laughed it off, letting Baxter crawl up their arm to their shoulder. “I love animals,” they said to Paintbrush with a smile.  “I can tell.”  “Okay, uhhhh. Paintbrush wins the chair, I guess?” OJ said, a little taken aback by how quickly it’d been won. He hadn’t even said “Go!” yet! “Uh, next thing…I was thinking Truth-or-Dare.”  “That’s childish,” Trophy said.  “But it works,” OJ countered. “This is my hotel, my rules. We’re gonna play Truth-or-Dare.”  Nickel and Trophy both had the largest frowns on their face as OJ organized everyone into a rough circular shape.  Well, more of an ever-fluctuating oval. Not everyone was exactly the most still-sitting.  “Tissues!” OJ said, pointing to said object.  “H-huh?”  “Truth or dare?”  “Oh,” Tissues said. “Uh. T-truth…??”  “Did you take your meds today?” OJ asked.  “Oh, no, I forgot again!!” Tissues exclaimed suddenly, jumping up and hurrying out of the room.  OJ snickered a bit, smiling. “Ok, ok,” he said. “Paper! Truth or dare?”  “Dare!” Paper grinned, looking prepared to do just about anything.  “Eat a corner of your head.”  Paper immediately scowled. “You said the same thing last time!!”  “So?”  “Hmph,” Paper muttered, tearing off a tiny piece of his corner and angrily shoving it into his mouth. “Uh…Nickel.”  “Dare, just get it over with,” Nickel huffed.  “Uh. Sit upside-down for the next three rounds.”  “That works,” sighed Nickel, rolling over onto his head, meticulously balanced. “Hmm...Meep,” he said after an interruption of Tissues returning to the room.  “Truth, and don’t call me Meep,” MePencil said.  “Are you a girl or a boy?” Nickel asked.  MePencil seemed to think for a moment before saying, “No.”  “MePence, you gotta answer the question,” OJ scolded.  “I just did. ‘No’ is my legitimate answer, I’m not even trying to be clever here,” MePencil replied. “Sorry if it disappoints you.”  “That’s even worse than your ‘not legally obligated’ answer from last week,” Nickel scowled. “Is your gender ‘no’? That’s stupid.”  Paintbrush cringed a bit.  MePencil smiled at Nickel, but it was a very dark, irritated smile. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind someday! Okay, Yang!” they called across the circle.  “What??” Yang said, apparently having been MIA.  “She’s asking you truth or dare,” Yin told him.  “I pass!!” Yang frowned, crossing their arms. “You do it, Yin.”  MePencil shrugged, jostling Baxter, who’d made his way onto their head. “Truth or Dare, Yin.”  “I think I’m better off with a Truth,” Yin said, glancing at his darker half.  “Hmm, what’s your favorite food?”  “Well, I quite enjoy milkshakes,” Yin contemplated, “but Yang doesn’t often enjoy when we eat sweet things.” He looked around the room then, thinking of who to call on.  “Paintbrush!!” Yang grinned evilly, suddenly.  “O-oh,” Paintbrush said. “Uh...d-dare?” they decided hesitantly.  Yang’s grin widened, and Yin looked worried. “I dare you to tell us that you’re really a girl!” he said viciously.  “I…!” Paintbrush gasped in surprise, and Yin began to hit his darker half, scolding him. “I can’t–!”  “Yang!” OJ exclaimed angrily. “That was...you can’t just…!”  “I can’t–!” Paintbrush blurted again, stumbling over their words. “I’m not–!”  “So you’re not a girl then?” Yang grinned. “There we go, guys, you’re welcome!”  “But...I’m not...I-I…!!” Paintbrush blabbered, distressed and teary-eyed. They immediately shut their mouth when MePencil laid a hand on their shoulder. They looked to the other in surprise and MePencil smiled at them, winking.  “You don’t have to tell them,” they said. “Yang’s just being unfair.”  “Wh…” Paintbrush said, mind coming to the conclusion. “Wait, you…”  MePencil nodded.  “How long…??”  “It’s easy to tell if you know what you’re looking for,” MePencil smiled.  “Does that mean...are you…?”  MePencil grinned, squeezing Painty’s shoulder. “I’ll pick someone for truth or dare for you, if you don’t want.”  “Wait, what just happened?” Trophy asked.  “Dude, what did you two even just talk about??” Nickel exclaimed, rolling over rightside up again.  “They’ve got their own language,” Soap hypothesized, and MePencil snorted, grinning.  “Paintbrush, are you okay?” OJ cut through the chatter, frowning.  “I think so,” Paintbrush replied unsurely, still shaking a bit. MePencil pat their shoulder.  OJ sighed quietly, then turned to YinYang angrily. “Sorry, Yin,” he began. “Yang, you are denied movie privileges for the next week!”  “It’s ok, I get it,” Yin nodded solemnly.  “What???” Yang exclaimed.  “You went entirely too far!” OJ retorted. “You made Paintbrush cry, and he’s not a person I see crying!” Paper folded his arms and nodded in agreement.  “Yeesh, even I wouldn’t do that,” Trophy muttered.  “Same, same,” Nickel said.  “Dirty move, Yang,” Soap frowned.  “Oh dear,” Balloon muttered.  “I think that’s enough group activity for today,” OJ huffed, standing up. “Remember you get the beanbag chair,” he smiled at Painty hopefully.  “Here, let’s go up to your room,” MePencil said softly as the group awkwardly disbanded, helping Paintbrush up. “Too many rude faces down here.”  “Are you sure you’re gonna be all right?” Cherries came up and asked worriedly. “Yang is such a meanie!”  “I’ll recover,” Paintbrush assured the little ones, managing a smile.

 “I hate that I can’t bring stuff up with everyone else,” Paintbrush vented in the empty elevator. “But they just wouldn’t get it!”  “I know,” MePencil sighed. “Being the third can...be a burden.”  Painty looked to them. “So…’they?’”  “Yep,” MePencil nodded. “Sometimes I like ‘he,’ but never ‘she’.” They smiled to the other. “You ‘they’ too?”  “Yeah.” Paintbrush looked listlessly up at the light that sat in the center of the elevator ceiling. “Only Lightbulb knows, though.”  “And me.”  The elevator door dinged, and as the two stepped out shoulder to shoulder, Paintbrush took into account that all of MePencil’s ‘annoying’ pestering was just...an extended hand for a friend, for someone akin to talk to.  MePencil was a C, and Paintbrush was not alone.