#implied bullying

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day six - four months in the future

@anaroceitweek

prompt: hiding/library

relationship: eventual/implied romantic anaroceit

word count: 2.1k

(cw -> implied bullying, concussions.)

---

Virgil’s lungs were starting to hurt. But he had to keep running. 

How was he supposed to know that refusing to do the football team’s homework one time would lead to him getting jumped every time he was alone? It was just an attempt to gain some freedom, and perhaps a spine, after being trapped in the frustrating cycle of being forced to do the football team’s bidding. Football wasn’t even that impressive, in Virgil’s opinion. Sure, it took a lot of strategy and physical strength, but it didn’t give anybody the right to order other people around. 

They were getting closer now; Virgil could just feel it. He had to stop running and find somewhere to hide before they caught up to him. Rounding the corner, Virgil thought fast, diving into the nearest door and shoving it open, closing it behind him quietly and quickly. 

It was a bit of an awkward thing to do, considering how quiet the area had been before Virgil burst in. The air felt practically still, like nothing in the room was moving except for Virgil. Everything about this place felt hazy, like Virgil was walking through a dream. He couldn’t quite make out the details of anything, and every time he squinted to get a better look at something, it just fuzzed more and more. So for the sake of his vision, Virgil stopped squinting. 

The shelves, piled high with books of all different thicknesses and colors, seemed to go on forever. Virgil vaguely recognized this place as the school library, but something about it felt different. Besides, according to Virgil’s knowledge, the library was on the other side of the school. 

Come to think of it, Virgil didn’t remember seeing this door until today. 

“Virgil, what’s going on? Are you okay?” 

Virgil turned to see who had addressed him, but as soon as he saw that red and white football uniform, he crumpled to the group, his legs giving out in shock as he quickly scooted against the door. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay??” Virgil cried out, his words tumbling over each other in fear. “I’ll do your dumb homework, I’ll do everyone’s homework! Just leave me alone-” 

“What…what are you talking about?” 

The boy wearing the uniform was somebody Virgil recognized. Roman Mendoza, the newest member on the football team. He had gained popularity quickly, not just because he had looks that modeled movie stars, but also because he made it onto varsity as a freshman. His features definitely gave away his age, considering that he was a lot smaller and slighter than the other members, and he had a permanent, smiling sheepishness about him that made him seem more like an excited puppy than a ferocious wolf, which was what the other members of the team reminded Virgil of. 

And here, in this strange, mysterious place, the boy seemed even more sweet, as he knelt down before Virgil, his brown eyes round with worry and compassion. Though everybody knew Roman to be arrogant and a bit of a braggart, nobody could deny that he cared a lot about everything around him. Virgil couldn’t count the number of times he had watched Roman, standing off to the side and wringing his hands while the football team terrorized him. Never once had Roman joined in. 

It looked like he wasn’t going to here either. 

“What are you wearing?” Roman asked, tilting his head. “Why did you change?” 

“I didn’t change,” Virgil replied, growing more and more confused, especially when Roman took his hand and kissed it. 

“Don’t worry, my dear, there’s some water in my bag.” 

Virgil couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose in pure, unbridled lostness. My dear??? What the hell was going on?? 

As if it was second nature, Roman helped Virgil up, walking hand in hand with him to where the tables were at the library. Another boy that Virgil only vaguely recognized was sitting at the table where Roman seemed to be going towards. 

“Janus, could you pass me my water? Virgil needs some,” Roman said. 

The boy named Janus was very short, shorter than Virgil, even, and his eyes were a striking light green, so bright that they almost looked yellow. He had vitiligo across one side of his face that made him look paler than a ghost from that angle. And he was breathtakingly gorgeous. 

And he passed Roman the water bottle. 

“Here you go, love,” he said nonchalantly, flipping the page in his book and not looking up from it. 

Okay, what was the deal with all these pet names? Virgil was starting to feel more and more like he was in a dream. Roman passed him the water bottle and Virgil drank the entire thing without hesitation, not stopping until it was all gone, and by the time he finished, he was feeling a bit less winded. 

“So what happened?” Roman asked. “You’re wearing totally different clothes, and it looked like you were running from…something.” 

“Really? I was running from something?” Virgil scoffed in disbelief. “You don’t say. Maybe asking your little friends will help you figure out who I was running from.” 

“What…are you talking about?” Roman asked. “The team’s not practicing today. The team only practices on Mondays. And- I told them to stop pushing you around. Are they still not listening??” 

Roman continued to ramble, growing a bit more panicked with each word. But Virgil could only focus on one thing that he had said. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking up at Roman with his eyes narrowed. “Today is Monday. If this is the team’s idea of a joke, it’s really fucking stupid. I would know what day of the week it is.” 

“Virgil, it’s not Monday. It’s Thursday.” 

Janus’ voice cut through Roman’s as well as Virgil’s, causing both of them to stare wide-eyed at the sharp-tongued boy. Virgil didn’t know anything about this boy, but he found himself being quiet for him anyway. As if he knew intrinsically that whatever Janus had to say about the situation, it would probably be sensible. 

“Okay, let’s all just calm down. Clearly, there’s a bit of a mix-up here, but we can figure this out,” Janus reasoned. “For now, let’s just focus on getting everyone feeling better. Virgil, you can have some of my water too. You literally look like you just got out of a marathon. Roman, let’s keep watching this show. Virgil, you can watch too, if you like.” 

“Yes!” Roman said excitedly, “Don’t worry Virgil, we didn’t watch too much without you. This is the episode where it’s between Autumn and Bailey!” 

Virgil had no idea who the fuck Autumn and Bailey were, but before he knew it, Roman’s arm was around him, pulling him closer so Virgil could get a better view of his laptop screen. Janus was on the other side of him. This felt strangely familiar, even though Roman had never touched Virgil before in his life. Virgil noticed that he smelled strongly of vanilla, and his smooth skin was a bit sweaty. Maybe football players just always sweat. But strangely, Virgil didn’t find himself feeling grossed out by touching Roman’s sweaty arm. It almost felt…exciting. 

This reality show with brightly dressed 20-something year old women competing for a role on Broadway was more entertaining than Virgil had given it credit for at first. He couldn’t really pick out what any of the women were saying, too focused on Janus and Roman beside him, but there was a screaming match, and that was vaguely fun to watch. 

As Virgil let his guard down and relaxed, he started to grow tired. It made sense. He had been running for a while, and Virgil was the first to admit that he was pretty out of shape. Though it was strange, he let his entire body weight rest upon Roman, and he closed his eyes, deciding to get some sleep. He was still a little put off by Roman, but at this moment, at least, he seemed safe. Even if he was entirely too loud and clingy. 

But maybe Virgil liked his loudness and clinginess. It was endearing. 

Virgil drifted off to sleep, the last thing he heard being a loud crash. And then, nothing. 

—

“He’s waking up! He’s waking up!” 

Virgil rubbed his eyes slowly before opening them, starting to sit up. He was confused, as he was able to hear Janus’ voice. Why was he shouting like that? Virgil had only been sleeping for a few minutes. Then, he realized that he wasn’t in the library at all. 

He was at the school nurse’s office. And Roman wasn’t next to him anymore either. In a very embarrassing position, Virgil had been cuddling a pillow as if it were a person, and his face burned upon realizing this. He sat up completely, and let go of the pillow, looking for Janus. He was wearing something totally different, and his eyes didn’t hold that same air of recognition that they did just a few moments ago. 

“You took a pretty bad fall,” Janus said, walking over to Virgil. “You’re lucky that Roman found you and carried you all the way here.” 

“What…?” Virgil grumbled. “What about the library?” 

“You’re awake!” 

Roman rushed over to the bed and threw his arms around Virgil. Vanilla. Just like earlier. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay! I’m sorry I didn’t do something sooner, I’m sorry I let this go as far as it did- I just- I didn’t want to-” 

“Calm down, buddy,” Janus said, awkwardly and stiffly patting Roman on the back. “He’s disoriented. Talking some crazy about the library. Take a seat and let him get a grip.” 

“Buddy?” Virgil mumbled. 

Where did buddy come from, after all those pet names, and the cuddling, and the affection? Why were Janus and Roman acting like they didn’t even know each other? 

“What’s your name anyway?” Roman asked, “Come to think of it, what’s both of your names?” 

Oh. They didn’t know each other. 

Virgil blinked rapidly, his heart hurting from how fast it was spinning, and how much thinking he had to do. The library, hazy and dreamlike. Maybe it really was a dream. But if it was, then why was it so detailed? Why did everything feel so real? And how did he know Roman and Janus in the dream without knowing them now, and how was the dream so accurate? What was going on?? 

Roman stared at Virgil with those same big, concerned brown eyes, and Virgil’s heart stuttered for a moment. 

Janus gently placed a small ice pack on Virgil’s head, which Virgil was starting to realize hurt terribly, and the way Janus’ fingers brushed against Virgil’s hair made him blush. 

“I’m Janus,” he said, as if neither of them knew. “Nurse’s aide. She’s at a meeting now, so I’m taking over until she comes back.” 

“I’m Roman,” Roman said back. “I…uh…I was confused about why I was the only one at practice. So I went down the hallway, and that’s when I found- the rest of the team. And you.” 

Virgil realized quickly that he was the “you” that Roman was referring to. 

“I’m Virgil,” he said. “I’m nobody.” 

“That’s not true,” Roman protested quickly. “You’re certainly fast. You were running so quick before they threw that book at you that I thought you were on the track team.” 

“They threw a book at me??” Virgil asked. “I didn’t feel it.” 

“Well, they threw it at you, and you fell down,” Roman recalled awkwardly. “You were passed out. Cold. The team left to start conditioning, but it…didn’t feel right to just leave you there, y’know?” 

“You did the right thing, Roman,” Janus said. “Virgil, you probably have a concussion, considering that you fell on the side of your head. Your ankle is twisted too, but it doesn’t seem to be any sort of fracture or break. We’ll be able to tell better when the nurse comes back.” 

“What do we do in the meantime?” Roman asked. 

“I suppose we wait,” Janus said. “Talk a little.” 

And as Roman and Janus talked, and Virgil joined in as much as he could (though his head was throbbing worse and worse with each passing minute), he decided that maybe he could get to know these two some more. They seemed nice, and if the dream had been accurate about everything else, maybe their personalities matched too. They certainly seemed to now.  It was silly to feel such a way towards people that he technically barely knew, Virgil knew this. But as he watched Roman’s curls bounce, and how Janus curled his lip upwards to smile, showing off his beautiful, sharp teeth, Virgil realized with embarrassment that he was down bad. What an interesting thing to come with a concussion.

[inkdippedstars]

[last edited feb 17, 2020]

Weak.

I heard a group once; Talking and laughing; I asked them; “What’s going on?”

Who knew it’d give me a revelation?

They snickered; “We’re talking about this girl; Who cried for a stupid reason; Because she’s weak as hell!

We wonder, are YOU weak?”

To this question; I know I should say; “No, I’m strong.” But the truth is;

I am weak.

They would laugh once more; “Don’t you know; That being weak is a bad thing?” And I’d stop to look at them;

Being weak isn’t horrible.

Those people; Seem to have forgotten; They were weak too; And could very well still be weak now;

It’s in our nature as humans.

After all; When we were born; Didn’t we require our parents and guardians; To care for us, until we were grown?

That’s being weak, and that’s okay.

When we cry; Or are hurt; And can’t make the sadness stop; And you feel as if you won’t overcome it;

You are showing weakness, and it’s normal.

People have always been weak; But being weak isn’t a bad thing; It shows we aren’t perfect; It shows we can be hurt;

And all of that’s more than okay.

Don’t hide your weakness; Embrace it; Weakness is a part of us; A part that shouldn’t hide away;

Weakness shows us how we’re human.

And while humanity isn’t the best; It’s actually messed up quite a lot; There are still good moments; One of the many things that influence that glimmer of good;

The fact that we are weak.

Admitting that makes us pretty damn strong.

[mrsunshineboy]

[hypnoprincesslottie]

"denial" except, not really.

"you better not cum." "don't you dare." "you're going to be in so much trouble, you know." "you don't want me to get mad, do you?" "you know what happens next if you cum without permission, right?" "are you stupid, or what? i said no." but it's obvious by how i'm touching you that the goal is to force you to cum as hard as you can, while knowing you're desperately trying your absolute hardest not to.

[iaminpainfr]

Trigger warning with sewer slide and bullying

yandere! bullies are cool, I guess, but sometimes I just wanna see em fucking guilty, frowning. Getting what they deserve.

The bully with a Manipulative! Reader

"You're so mean... You don't care? I'll just kill myself then... since you hate me so much."

"What- no... that's not what I-"

"Then start acting like you care."

Or....

Imagine that the victim has a partner, they step in to defend the victim from yandere! Bully.

It breaks the yandere! bully's heart secretly because you feel safer with your partner instead of them, you love your partner. You don't love them. Because all they do is just torture you. But still, at least love them a little... please look at them with those eyes like you do with your partner.

But then they pull the "I'm doing this cause you're mine, I own you." bullshit, aha, no.

I want a yandere bully broken. To see them full of guilt.

If they're doing this cause they love you, it's only fair you did it back, ŗ̵̡̺̤̅́̇͒͠i̴̮̓̚ģ̵̝͓̻̝̾͆͒̈͑͜͜͝ḧ̷̊��̗̘̞͊͂ẗ̵̳̹͗̆̆̃̐?̵̟͍̤̱͎͑̌̈

[vctrdoom]

30 days to train aka 30 days for kars to cyber bully joseph

[robo-milky]

Growth

[CW: Implied Suicide | Bullying]

? ЯƎວИOЯTƧ Ǝᗺ UOY T’Иᗡ⅃UOƆ YHW i wish i was nicer to you.

[tropicalcontinental]

The first is not kind.

[sinn-bee]

Open for a surprise!

Lqg getting his hair pulled >:3 (By Binghe?!) (Not clickbait?!)

You’re welcome <3

[propertyofkylar]

prompt event: date night (m!whitney x f!pc)

word count: 1815

tags: 12. romantic, 15. date night, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, canon-compliant name-calling

You were walking out of the school grounds when you were interrupted by a cigarette butt smacking the back of your head. Whirling around in surprise, you came face-to-face with your boyfriend.

“Oi,” Whitney said, with an unpleasant look on his face. You tensed up slightly as he walked closer to you. “Slut. You’re not doing anything tonight.”

It wasn’t really a question, but you nodded anyway. “Um, yeah. I’m free.”

That satisfied Whitney. “Good.”

“Can…I ask why?” You asked hesitantly, but Whitney replied with one of his signature smirks.

“Because I’m taking you out on a date. Be ready. And make sure you look nice, yeah?” He shoved past you, delivering a sharp smack to your ass as he did so. “Don’t be sloppy. I’m picking you up.”

Just like that, he was gone.

You stood uncomfortably in front of the orphanage, shifting in your high heels. It wasn’t like you were unaccustomed to dates. You went on plenty. But with Whitney? Never. The two of you made out in public, you fucked in school, every once in a while you visited Whitney’s place but that mostly was just to fuck in his bed. He had never taken you - or anyone, as far as you knew - on an actual date. It was honestly mildly terrifying.

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of footsteps and you looked up to see Whitney approaching. He looked pretty nice himself - he had on a pair of khakis and an unbuttoned shirt over a t-shirt. 

When he got close to you, he looked you up and down appraisingly. Then, he gave a short nod. “Nice,” Whitney said simply.

“Thanks. You look good, too,” you replied. You couldn’t hold back the burning question on your mind, though. “What are we doing?”

Whitney tossed an arm around your shoulder and gestured for you to start walking. “I told you. I’m taking you out on a date.”

“Why?”

He shook his head, a look of mock offense on his face. “Because you’ve been a good slut, and I wanted to reward you. Isn’t that enough?”

You still felt a little uneasy, but he was being surprisingly genuine. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go along with it. 

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” Whitney elaborated. “My treat. Whatever my slut wants, she gets.”

That surprised you. “Really?”

“Well, just don’t be a dumbass about it, yeah?” He pinched your side. “If you go and order the most expensive thing on the menu, I’m walking out and leaving you to pay.”

The two of you continued walking until you reached the outside of a nice café. It wasn’t the fanciest place in town by far, but it was still nicer than you would have expected from Whitney. 

You went to reach for the door, but Whitney grabbed your wrist. “Hold on.”

He pulled you toward him, then set his hands on your waist and kissed you deeply. You instinctively leaned in, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him back. 

After a few moments, Whitney pulled back, his eyes closed and a smile on his face. “Mm. Thanks for that, slut. Let’s go.”

Once the two of you were inside and seated, you couldn’t help but stare at him. Eventually he noticed, and looked back at you with an irritated look. “What?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Just nice. Didn’t expect this.”

He frowned, a hint of blush creeping across his face. “I can be nice too, y’know.”

That made you laugh. “I don’t know if I really believe that.”

Whitney was fully blushing now, and he looked away from you. “Whatever. See if I ever do anything nice for you again, slut.” But his tone was teasing and he accented the sentence by flicking his crumpled up straw wrapper at you. 

You hadn’t opened your straw yet, so you seized the opportunity to tear the top of the wrapper off and blow it at Whitney. It smacked him right in the forehead and he turned to you with genuine surprise. That quickly morphed into a smirk that sent a chill through your body. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now, slut,” he said, searching the space for anything else he could fling at you. But he was unsuccessful and took a moment to sulk, which made you laugh out loud. Whitney gave your shoulder a playful shove, then leaned to whisper in your ear. “Guess I’ll make you pay later.”

You suddenly became very interested in the menu. 

As you were finishing your last bite of dessert, Whitney was absentmindedly twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. You gave him a smile and he suddenly blushed again, looking away. 

“What?” You were genuinely curious. 

But he just sighed. 

“It’s nothing,” Whitney mumbled, laying his head on his arm. “Just shut the fuck up. Okay?”

And so you did, and soon enough, Whitney had finished paying and the two of you were leaving the restaurant. 

As soon as you walked out, he caught your wrist with his hand. You barely had opened your mouth to protest before he was on you, pressing you against an alley wall as his hands slid up your thighs. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he mumbled against your skin while his lips assaulted your neck. “You were just begging for me to bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone.”

You felt your body growing hot under Whitney’s skilled touch. His hands groped your ass and you felt him smirk. 

“And no panties. I’ve trained you well,” Whitney said. But just as suddenly as he began, he stopped. He pulled you out of the alley and started walking again. 

You, again, tried to protest, but the brief endeavor had left you light-headed, so all that came out was a few odd sounds and squeaks. 

“What?” Whitney replied, as if you had actually spoken any sort of human language. “I promised my slut a date night. What kind of romantic boyfriend would I be if I fucked you in that alley like some common whore. I’m taking you home.” He flashed you a wink and you felt weak in the knees. 

The two of you walked the familiar route to Whitney’s place, neither speaking. The air was so thick with sexual tension you were afraid that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. So you opted to stay silent and presumably, Whitney was feeling the same way. He didn’t say anything, but the feeling of his hand gripping yours said enough. 

You barely made it into Whitney’s room before he was slamming the door behind him, kicking off his shoes, and shoving you down on his bed. 

“You have been begging for this all night, slut,” he practically growled as he kissed you aggressively, grinding his crotch into yours. “Feel that? That’s all your fault.” 

“Whitney…” you whimpered as he tugged a fistful of your hair. He pushed you so you were laying flat and then crawled over you. His eyes were dark and he was panting. 

Leaning back on his heels, Whitney sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You just look so…fuck!”

You tilted your head in confusion, but Whitney dove back in, pushing your skirt up to your hips and slipping a hand between your thighs. “Of course you’re already fucking dripping. Not that I would expect anything less.”

He crawled back and positioned his head between your legs. “You drive me fucking crazy. Just know that.”

Then he flicked his tongue against your clit and you moaned. 

Whitney began eating you out, truly, like a man starved. He rarely went down on you, which made this even more special. He expertly alternated between licking and light sucking, eagerly lapping you up. 

You tried to speak again, to tell him to slow down, but all you could manage was to weakly moan his name. This had the opposite effect of what you wanted, further encouraging him. His nails were digging into your thighs and when you looked down and made eye contact with him, things were too much. 

You cried out and your back arched off the bed as you came, Whitney still drinking up your juices. As you came down from the high he finally pulled back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, the lower half of his face shiny and slick. 

“Tastes good,” he said with a smirk, tugging off his pants. His cock looked almost painfully hard and flushed, precum dripping from the tip. You reached out to touch it but Whitney quickly was positioned between your legs. He teased your clit with the head of his dick, eliciting a squeak from you. 

Then, he slid into you, letting out a sharp gasp in the process. He mumbled something that sounded like “I love you” but your head had gone fuzzy from the feeling of him stretching you out, so you weren’t entirely sure. 

“So fucking good,” Whitney groaned as he slowly started thrusting. “How’s a slut like you feel so fucking tight?”

Whitney yanked down the top of your dress and began to grope your tits and pinch your nipples. His hand on your body, the feeling of his cock inside you - it was all too good. 

“F-fuck,” you managed to squeak out. “Feels so good, Whit…”

His face was flushed as he pounded even harder into you, lifting up your leg to get even deeper. “Oh my god,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around his back and digging your nails into the bare skin under his shirt. 

“I-I,” you started but that was all you got out before your second orgasm hit you. You squeezed your eyes shut as you rode the wave of pleasure, your mouth falling open and only short, breathy sounds coming out. 

Whitney was fucking you hard, the bed frame squeaking with every thrust. He was panting when suddenly he pulled out of you and stroked his cock as he came. Ropes of cum shot out and sprayed across your tits and the front of your dress. 

“Fuck, slut,” his shoulders were heaving. “You fucking…” he left the rest of that thought unfinished. 

“Mm,” was the only response you could give as you were still recovering. The two of you sat in silence briefly before you sat up. “Hey. You got cum on my nice dress.” 

Whitney shrugged and flopped down next to you, propping himself up on one arm. “You shouldn’t have looked so hot in it. It’s your own fault.” 

You turned to face him, a small smile on your face. “Well. Thanks for the date night.”

He blushed again. “Don’t mention it. I mean it.” 

You nuzzled into him, resting your head on his chest. His heart was still beating fast. “You got it.”

[sweetestflow3rs]

since it came to my attention, here is more accessible link for like... i think most of my more sexually 'explicit' art ( some are )

[fyepertine]

Something to Cry About, Part 2

=============

Part 1

[danadiadea]

And comparing Death eaters tormenting innocent muggles to Snape and James is wildddddd. Snape balls deep in the dark arts at school, using slurs etc etc he was not the innocent little baby yall want him to be

Well, how do you know the Roberts didn’t hold political views you disapprove of? Or hobbies you dislike? Maybe Mr. Roberts had been a member of a right-wing party! And Ms. Roberts might have been homophobic! By your victimblamey rotten logic, "morally impure" people deserve being undressed without their consent, right? A crime ceases to be a crime if the victim isn't an innocent little baby (whatever that means), does it not?

I wonder what is that mysterious "etc etc" of yours, because aside from learning dark magic (slay behaviour, saved Dumbledore's and Katie's lives) and using slurs (not good, but he started using them on his fifth year it seems, and for the previous four the Marauders were psychics I guess), Snape did literally nothing. Well, also didn't condemn his classmates for bullying a girl after he was murder attempted and no-one gave a shit, which is at worst student!Lupin level of crime. Not that it's important anyway. The Marauders didn't have any authority over punishing people. Even if some of their victims were bad people and held harmful views, it gave them zero rights to hex and undress them and try to feed them to the werewolf. Sexual offenders and bullies aren't heroes in shining armour for abusing "bad" people, and their actions always stem from their cruelty and dehumanisation of those around them. And also they have impact on the victims, like, let's say, making them seek protection and safe space among their powerful peers, or giving them trauma that influences their emotional management.

James explicitly gave the reason he bullied Snape – Snape existed. Lily had known why James bullied Snape – because he's an arrogant, bullying toerag. Sirius had known why did James hex people – for the fun of it. And only you stay delusional, poor thing. But keep believing that the marauders gave him a sexist nickname from the day 1 because he was a half-blood dirt poor Voldemort's protege.

[mychlapci]

this is so funny why did they do that to prowl

[malamilkbeats]

I haven't written in a long time, but the Pink Corruption made me want to write a short bit about an OC and something silly about Pentellow, Iris and the group. I'm posting it on AOx3. I'm not saying a damn thing./lh

This is my OC, Concavex, btw. She/they, 21 y/o. Bi as heck. A nervous wreck, but they're sweet. She's not a shape who fights, though. Their specialties are telepathy and levitating over a short amount of time. They play the violin and dance.

Just a musician, touring for her performances. They are an orange dork and fails horribly trying to hide it.

Poor Cube has no idea what the hell those three are on about. What's the big deal about liking Twilight Sparkle?

[lilidawnonthemoon]