#shitposts will resume at some point

[kittennature]

DROP THE DAGGER AND LATHER THE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS ROMEO ‼️‼️

[proosh]

have to go to work but want to thank everyone for turning out and supporting cavefic. a very silly jokefic spun wildly out of control getting this sort of reception has blown me away and I can't thank you all enough ;; w ;;

[genericpuff]

wasn’t expecting to see you on a r/shitpostxiv thread. i know you play ff but it was a shock LMAO. hope you’re doing well

LMAOOO that subreddit gets suggested to me all the time in my home feed and sometimes the topic's too interesting to lurk past, my shitposting knows no bounds FJDKLAFJDSKLAFAJKL plus with how heavily moderated the main FFXIV subreddit tends to be, most of the time spaces like ShitpostFFXIV and TalesFromDF wind up being way funnier, case in point:

ngl sorta off topic but I actually really enjoy the recommendation feeds on reddit, sometimes it's just recommending me stuff in the same orbit of subs that I already follow (like FF XIV), but then other times it'll show me something COMPLETELY random from some hobby or niche interest or fandom sub that I don't participate in, which makes me feel like I'm being led behind the walls of a secret establishment and now I'm overhearing all of their discourse and secrets LOL ofc this does result in sometimes getting recommendations for subreddits that I don't wanna touch with a fifty foot pole, but that's just the thrill of the recommendation roulette 😆

actually my weirdest "puff in the wild" story was when someone was asking for advice in like, the /r/tattooartists subreddit or something like that, specifically concerning their transition from a tattoo school into an actual tattoo shop and not knowing how to make that transition

and i threw in some of my own advice regarding personal networking and how the tattoo industry is still largely based on personal relationships, it's not like working a corporate or retail job where you hand out resumes until something sticks, you actually DO need to talk to people and get to know people within the community if you want to find a shop to work in

and OP responded to me with, i shit you not, a response that was along the lines of: "omg genericpuff! I love your comic! Thanks for the advice!"

and i just

w h a t

anyways yes i'm doing well thank you for asking LOL i just drank a soda, is it obvious

[junebugwriter]

On Ferality 

A ramshackle meditation on anarchy, civilization, and in going goblin mode 

Aren’t you tired of being nice?  

Shitposter extraordinaire and cultural podcaster @JUNIPER (now, sadly, deactivated for her crimes against our horrible South African overlord) tweeted out a fake headline that she cooked up for a goof about the then-current and still ongoing Kanye West implosion, noted musician and antisemite. Since then, the ubiquity of the phrase “goblin mode” has become a matter of cultural immersion, to the point that it won the 2022 Oxford English Dictionary Word of the Year.  

Clearly, @JUNIPER was onto something. People latched onto the phrase online, and now it has become simply a part of the common vocabulary. However, I think it is more than simply a passing phase or a fad. I think there is something going on in people that is hard to grasp in its totality. It is partly an abandonment of decorum and civility, partly a desire for a more authentic life. I speak of the desire to take on the goblin mode, and become, in a word, feral.  

There are many groups on Facebook of which I am a part that live into this ferality. Some aspiring to the goblinoid aesthetic, some simply embracing the eternal and ever-shifting id that lies beneath our conscious minds. It all simply points to the zeitgeist of my generation, Millennials, and the ascendant Gen Z. We are tired of being nice. We do want to go apeshit.  

There are many reasons for this, of course. Goblin mode came out of 2022, a year that was when the powers of liberal democracy decided that, since there was a COVID-19 vaccine freely available, there was no reason for adherence to mask mandates or health precautions anymore. However, for many, we had spent the better part of a year and a half in our homes, or otherwise cautious about being in public places for too long unprotected. That isolation we felt, along with the relaxation of social norms and requirements, loosened something within us. Additionally, the requirement to “come back to the office” and resume capitalism as normal, despite the pandemic still going on around us, but us all being told to just ignore it, has driven not a few of us in the disabled and immunocompromised community up a wall. 

Then again, the pandemic was just the latest in a long line of social cohesion coming unglued. Since the 2016 election, and throughout the Trump administration, every day felt like it came with another psychic assault upon the world. Four years of sustained detachment from reality has lasting effects, not the worst of which being the Q-anon apocalypse cult. Then, as we spent a year and change in our houses, we... let things go. We gave up on some things. Perhaps we didn’t get dressed as nicely as we used to. Perhaps we spent less effort in looking presentable. We took that business meeting wearing a nice shirt and gym shorts, because who was going to look at the lower half of our bodies anyways? We began to understand that civility is but a thin veneer, a fragile structure that isn’t always necessary and sometimes crumbles at the barest whiff of resistance.  

Yet I think this desire to be feral has endured, and it’s not necessarily because of any one thing. Many of us reignited our love for nature, and natural wonder. We grew enamored with a world we thought we lost in childhood. Not a few of us lost ourselves in naturalist nostalgia, and nostalgia in general is big business these days. But nature is a difficult thing to capitalize upon and resists our commodification. Along with this, though, we realized just how constrained we really are in the world. 

For many, working from home made people realize just how much we sacrificed for our jobs. Hours of life wasted on commuting. Stress of open office plans, constant meetings and interruptions. A good portion of the population realized just how little we needed our central offices, and skyscrapers began to be left unfilled and empty. Real estate for office space saw real and drastic losses, because how much money, time, and life was wasted in these places? And people have resisted returning to the old pre-pandemic status quo. For their part, I am excited, because people have realized just how much freedom we could have, and just how much our occupations take from us.  

As for me, well, I work in the service industry currently. I’m still working in hospitality, a job that does require physical presence. Academia never recovered, most institutions becoming hybrid class spaces, and I barely am required to be in person with any of my meetings or classes. Life has changed a great deal in a short amount of time. More than that, life seems to resist our structures and systems. And people are tired of trying to keep up. 

Something has changed in younger generations that the older ones don’t quite grasp just yet. There has been a resurgence in not simply disenchantment with neoliberal democracy, but a sense within younger folks that the system no longer does what it we were told it would do. Rather, we are beginning to see that the system is working as intended, and it is in its most extreme form. As a result, we are seeing more and more the America that we were told we could be a part of no longer exists, if it ever did. We are talking to each other, learning that we don’t have the same reverence for “the way things are” that our parents did.  

Enter the internet. Enter academia. Enter meme culture. Enter social media. Enter a reclamation for classical Marxist analysis. Enter class consciousness. Enter anarchy. 

What I am about to say here as perhaps another “coming out” of a sort, but not much of one if you’ve paid attention to the kind of person I have been most of my life. This is, naturally, when things get political. I am personally drawn to a kind of pacifist Christian anarcho-communism. What this means is I am  

Disenchanted with all unjust hierarchical structures in society, including those of racism, classism, cis-hetero-patriarchy, and so forth.  

Believe in a communal, decentralized, socialist egalitarianism, free from the dominance of capital as the driving force in society, and in favor of a more just and fair society that prioritizes the needs of all rather than the freedom and power of the few over others 

Am resistant to violence and would like to work towards a world where violence is no longer necessary, understanding that in certain cases force is a necessity but not an inevitability 

Believe that the way of Christ and the Reign of God/Kingdom of God/Kingdom of heaven is what the ideal society ought to strive towards, and that society looks a lot like one that is free from violence and unjust hierarchies. 

All of that is just kind of a brief outline of the things I believe. I want to also say that I’m primarily an ethicist, and not a political philosopher, and by no means should this be taken as a coherent or comprehensive political platform. What I am, however, is deeply moved by my theological beliefs, and it is out of these theological beliefs that we ought to strive towards a political reality that more closely mirrors the Reign of God. Make of that what you will.  

The point of me saying all of that is when I express this political sentiment, I am far from alone in doing so. More and more people my generation and younger are growing more aware of the harsh, restrictive systems that capital has put us in thrall to, and we are chafing at our chains. We were told to stay loyal to our companies and work organizations and were laid off despite it all. We are told to “just get a better job,” but the better jobs no longer exist, and all of us are saddled with too much debt to ever escape it in one lifetime. Buying housing is largely growing to be a goal out of reach, and even rents are skyrocketing. The cost of living has ballooned since the pandemic began and has not evened out or reduced as we were assured it would. Companies are more profitable than ever, and workers are being exploited more each day. We are tired of our world as it is and yearn for a better one. Socialism, communism, anarchism (NOT anarchocapitalism, aka libertarianism), all of these proclaim that a better world is possible, but only if we act together.  

Beneath it, though, is an unbridled desire to stop living in the status quo. To reject the civility and norms of the world as it is, because that world doesn’t exist anymore. We long to be feral, unburdened by the expectations of our capitalist system, and more authentic to ourselves and to each other. We are isolated, and long to be in community with each other. We are frustrated, and long for release.  

To paraphrase Antonio Gramsci: The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of goblins. 

(Frank Frazetta) 

Civility and civilization are flimsy things, and only as strong as we desire them to be. The desire for freedom from its bonds is not new, either. Robert E. Howard famously expressed this brittleness in his Conan stories, as evidenced by quotes like, “Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.”1 Howard often concluded that the “civilized” people of the world were simply putting civility as a self-delusion, that we had progressed beyond “savagery” as embodied by Conan. Howard was writing in an era in which such terms were common parlance and are now rightly called out as racist/xenophobic, especially when talking about indigenous/native peoples. However, there is also an argument to be made that Howard’s work was entirely critical of the entire dynamic, that in writing about Conan, he was trying to reveal that we were not nearly as “civilized” as we purported to be, and that there was little separating us from those we deemed “savage” save for culture and power. Conan stories are pulp, popular fantasy fiction, but fantasy is a great way to examine real dynamics in our culture. For all their lurid salaciousness, Howard’s writings put a mirror up to us and our advancements, our cultures, our fancy dress, and reveal that the emperor has no clothes, and we are all goblins now.  

I write all of this as a way of expressing the deep angst I am experiencing, but also the collective angst of the moment. I am tired. All my friends, family, and society are tired. We long to collect shiny rocks on a forest path, make noisy music with our friends, cook a big pot of stew, play silly games, and tell stories. We indulge in fantasy and science fiction as an escape, but the escape only reveals the truth of our dystopic society. We are in a fail-state. Our political choices are 1) a fascist and 2) and vain bureaucrat who is at the very least is not a full-on fascist but that is really his only selling point at this point, who aids and abets genocide and allows our country to fall into greater disrepair. We are told to accept this, and more of us are deciding to opt out, to fight for a better world, to organize, to resist the lie that “civilization” has sold us. We are savage. We are angry. We are messy. We are noisy. For along with our organizing, we recognize that humanity is inherently disorganized, disorderly, feral, and messy. This messiness only points towards our greater humanity than is allowed by our current system. We are going goblin mode because being human has not worked out for us thus far, and we need something different.  

I write this to expiate some of my own inner struggles, my demons, my rage and anxiety. I am worn out and beyond burnt out by the grind that must continue. What happens when there is no longer anything to grind? What happens when people collectively get tired of being ground into a fine paste, and have that paste sold back to us at ever more unaffordable prices? The society we built is a meat grinder, and buddy, that grinding noise does not sound good. We ought to resist the meat grinder. Why did we even build that grinder in the first place? It seems like it was a bad decision to build it, because all it ever did was grind humans into meat, and we ought not do that. 

Perhaps all this is pointless. I am but one person, writing alone in the middle of the night to an audience of like-minded people. I have little time to do a lot of the organizing that I might desire, and even less talent for organizing people as a general principle.  People are mercurial and illogical things, and tend to go for gut instinct as opposed to reasoned arguments. But this is not a reasonable argument, is it? This is a primal scream. This is a guttural howl into the abyss, into the frozen and bloody plains of a battle that has been raging since long before I was born. I am tired of pretending that just because we wear nice clothes and hide behind a desk that our battles don’t have real impacts, that the coffee I might buy here isn’t grown and cultivated by people enslaved far away, out of sight, and therefore out of mind? Our convenience, our civilization, is built out of blood and bones, and I’m not supposed to get mad about it or even think about it? I have benefitted from the subjugation, pain and misery of others, and I’m just supposed to be okay with it?  

(Ippolito Scarsellino) 

I’m supposed to be okay, when Jesus himself, God incarnate, saw the cruelty of our systems and got so upset, he made a whip and threw tables over it all? That’s right, I’m saying it here, Jesus went goblin mode on the moneychangers. He got righteously angry and upset everything that was “civilized” in his society. The people in power saw this was a threat and had him crucified as an example to any other rabble-rousers. Jesus started an anarcho-communist movement, and I want us to reclaim this tradition today. Loving your neighbor is a radical position. Liberating the prisoner is a radical position. Caring for the widow and orphan is a radical position. Working towards healing is a radical position. Putting on a towel and washing your student’s feet is a radical position. Breaking your body and pouring out your blood for your friends is a radical position. We are his followers, but we are too afraid of breaking away from our comfort and our convenience to follow him.  

Take this as your invitation to go goblin mode, to embrace ferality. Civilization is a beautiful lie that we tell ourselves so we can go to sleep easier. Well, I’m not getting much sleep as it is, so I might as well break out of the comfortable lie.  

So, I will ask you one final time: aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to just go apeshit? 

[sparring-spirals]

do you ever plan on writing meta/your thoughts on some of the one shots ?

Hrmm. i mean, maybe? Possibly? It really kind of depends on whatever strikes me at the right time in the right place, and tbh, if I feel like I have something to say that hasn't already been beautifully phrased by other people.

The primary thing is that I don't really control my meta braincell, it just sort of rattles around or takes long naps or rockets off the walls, and sometimes I catch it and shake words out of its pockets. Certain themes/dynamics/character traits get me better than others, but that doesn't mean I'll always be able to write about it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I also tend to favor character-centric analysis, and the nature of oneshots don't always lend themselves to that, or not for the stuff I tend to write about.

Don't misunderstand though, I do really enjoy the oneshots, at least when I can get myself to sit down and watch them. Off the top of my head, both Liam's twoshot and Nautilus Ark were both splendid. 👌👌👌👌 themes, storytelling, character builds, unique vibes.... nice. The Elden Ring oneshot? Hilarious. Fantastic. The Elder SCROLLS four-shot? Exquisite (the first half i saw at least). Guest Battle Royale? Murder Capitalism Hell Yeah. Oneshots are fun! Just not always followed by meta.

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Kino and the ghouls sneaking around Banmaden in LE like

[indica-lungs]

Now opening the bidding war for my kidneys.

[corporalswhore]

⇒ TAKING DIRTY MIRROR PICS WITH THEM

includes; kotaro, tobio, kenma, tsukki, tetsuro & daichi.

warnings; crack/nsfw. curses. another shitpost from yours truly mwah. unedited. might do a pt. 2

→ kotaro bokuto

mirror pics?

say no more

you mentioned it one time whilst scrolling through instagram

and the thought has never left his brain

so he creates the perfect opportunity for you both to take one

albeit you’re beyond fucking confused

he’s balls-deep in you as you ride him, so close to your orgasm that you almost start shaking. whimpers and moans escape your lips as you lock eyes with your boyfriend. kotaro gives you a cheeky grin, palms gripping your waist tightly - halting your movements momentarily.

“w-what?” you ask breathless, dick-dazed.

your phone, laid on top one of the many pillows littering his bed, is grasped by his left hand.

“what are you doing, ko?” you’re starting to get annoyed, your release slowly slipping away from you.

he places the phone in your palm and you note the way it’s already open and on the camera app.

kotaro points at the mirror to the side of his room, not far from his bed.

“we’re taking a mirror pic!”

an irked expression graces your once lust- blown face. this man can’t be serious.

“c’mon! you wanted to do this!”

“not in the middle of my orgasm,” you groan, but zoom into the camera anyway.

your hands are propped up in a certain way to hide your boobs, squishing them in the process. the phone blocks half of your face and you fix your posture. your boyfriend’s dick is still in you, pulsing at every movement.

you can’t help but want to strangle kotaro right now for interrupting your pleasure but you restrain yourself. his two palms sprawl across your waist and you quickly snap the picture - desperately wanting a release.

you throw the phone back onto the bed and resume your previous movements. kotaro just laughs at your eagerness and reaches up to press a kiss onto your lips.

“good girl.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

→ tobio kageyama

dirty mirror pics?

yeah he knows his mirror is fucking dirty but he didn’t know it’s a photography genre????

dude’s fucking clueless when you ask him

“huh?”

you love your boyfriend but, it takes everything in you not to scream at his obliviousness.

“just..” you start by leading him to the mirror, “stand here.”

space cadet. doesn’t move a muscle as he stares at his reflection - he’s only got on his heart-printed boxers.

stripping off your clothes, your lingerie-clad self drops to your knees in front of him, causing him to move back a bit.

“are you gonna-“

“no!” you roll your eyes and hand him your phone. to be frank, sucking him off would just get him more flustered and it’d be difficult to get the pic. so selfishly, you opted not to indulge your boyfriend.

peering up at him, tobio has not a thought behind those eyes. when you hand him the phone, it’s already on the camera app - but he’s still confused.

“here,” you take his empty palm and encircle it with your hair. his hand acting as a make-shift hair tie. tobio grips it tightly, almost like second-nature to him.

grinning, you scoot to the middle of his legs. mouth fanning his crotch as you take your actual hair tie and twist it around both of your wrists behind your back. obviously, you didn’t have a real pair of handcuffs but the pic you wanted to recreate just looked so hot that you couldn’t not try to recreate it perfectly.

with tobio’s grip on your hair allowing you to peer up at him, you bite back a blush as you recall the many memories of both of you locking eyes at this angle.

“you can the pic now.”

he nods, somewhat stiffened in his movements - but still manages to snap a few pics. you just hope it’s of good quality.

“i know you wanted your ass in the frame but - my head wasn’t.”

“tobio!” you groan, “it’s fine.” yeah you wanted your ass in the frame (because it looks fucking magnificent) but he could’ve been less blunt with his words.

“okay well - can i get some head now?”

fucking dumbass.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

→ kenma kozume

doesn’t even realize what you’re doing

he’s too engrossed in his fucking game

you keep moving on his lap trying to get a better angle and he’s like

“you’re bothering me”

boy if you don’t stfu

with only his hoodie on, your cheek rests on his shoulder-blade as you lowly extend your hand out so it doesn’t block his view of the monitor. his hands cage you in by the waist and it hikes up the fabric of the hoodie with each movement he makes. his controller digs into the skin of your back but you’re accustomed to it.

the camera barely focuses on the mirrored closet door due to the incredibly dark room and you can’t help but sigh. the only source of light emits from the monitor and it’s extremely bright in contrast to other parts of the room - so you move ever-so-slightly to get a better angle - and kenma jolts. “would you stop?”

bitch.

you mutter an apology and he uses his wrist to move up the bunched up fabric annoying him - resulting in only your boobs being covered as of now. well, this just makes things easier. you arch your back slightly to accentuate your ass a little bit and try once more to get good lighting.

eventually you do when kenma moves closer to the screen, giving you just the right amount of light needed. your fingers sneakily tangle with his hair and you hurriedly snap the picture before he moves again and before your back gives out from that position.

“aw, this is cute!” you say, relaxing back into his chest. once again, he groans, “i’m literally going to throw you if you move again,”

fucking bitch.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

→ kei tsukishima

mirror pics???

don’t make him laugh

he thinks the idea is absurd

“how childish are you?”

like bitch??? it’s just a pic

let me LIVE GOD

“please?” you sit on the edge of his bed, hands gripping his ankles as he scrolls on his phone. “i swear it’s just one picture! after that, you’ll never have to do it again!” you try to bargain with him, but he’s not budging.

“why do you want to be those type of people? who wants to see that on their instagram?”

“this isn’t going on instagram! i just wanted to take it because it’s cute!”

kei sighs loudly, seemingly fed up with your pestering. “fine, just one!” he makes it clear before he grabs your hand and pulls you towards his mirror.

he sits down on his floor and without warning, lifts your sweater up; covering his entire face under it. “kei? what the fuck are you doing?”

“would you just pose?”

you sigh, twisting your legs slightly to push your ass out, your lace underwear is on display (due to your sweater being raised up) and kei’s right hand finds its way on your ass cheeks. you lean closer into him and you feel his lips lightly brush your stomach - sending chills across your body.

you rest your hand atop his covered head and the other behind his neck, “okay, you can take it now,”

you don’t know how but, he expertly takes the picture with his covered eyes. but it’s only when he releases himself from your sweater, do you look closer to the image; both of your heads weren’t in the frame.

that bastard. if he didn’t want to be in it that’s fine but what about you?

“you’re welcome.” he says smugly and returns to his previous position on the bed.

fucking asshole.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

→ tetsuro kuroo

dirty pics?

with you????

you don’t have to ask twice

he’s already pulling you on top his lap

but you just took a bath?????

so you’re fucking naked

but the dumbass does not care

your knees, along with your hands on your boyfriend’s shoulder blades, are the only thing keeping you steady on his bed. “suro c’mon, let me get some clothes,” you beg but his grip on your waist tells you you’re not going to win this fight. your knees cage his legs in as your breasts suffocates his face and he lets out a giddy chuckle- yeah he’s having too much fun.

tetsuro picks up his phone that’s next to him and his thumb slides across the screen, opening the camera app. he pulls you closer to him, your breasts now being squashed by his chest and your arms wrapped around his neck. tetsuro’s free arm comes down to your ass and simply covers your most intimate areas - leaving only your butt-cheeks to be seen in the frame.

he quickly snaps a few and unceremoniously throws his phone elsewhere. his hands encircle your waist once more and he pulls you down onto the mattress with him, grinning widely.

you’re beyond flustered at his actions, “tetsuro! let me put something on!”

“nope, i think you look better like this.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

→ daichi sawamura

poor dude is so confused when you ask him

“mirror pics? like in the nude?”

he’s FLUSTERED

and somewhat protective???

he’s beyond confused when you pull him towards his full-body mirror. daichi’s hands rests on your hips when you pull your top over your head, eliciting a gasp from your boyfriend.

“what’s happening here?” he asks, completely taken-aback by your nude body. you’ve only worn on one of his t-shirts that fits you like a dress, and your favorite pair of underwear.

he’s even more perplexed when you reach for your phone and sees you open the camera app. “babe?”

“we’re taking a mirror pic!” you explain to him, as giddy as a child.

“in the nude?” he responds very quickly, sounding almost stressed out.

“technically, i’m the only one nude here-“

daichi’s grip on your waist tightens as he spins you around to face him. “i love you, but i don’t think i feel comfortable with other people seeing you like this.” he mumbles into your neck.

you can’t help but laugh at him, “daichi this isn’t for anyone else but us!”

he raises his head sheepishly, “oh.”

you smile up at him, giving his lips a quick peck and turning your back against him.

“okay so-“ resting your phone back onto the table beside you, your palms grasps his hands on your waist and brings it up to your boobs. instinctively, daichi cups them.

right how you wanted it.

you giggle at his actions and reach back for your phone. leaning against his toned chest, you realize his head is out of the frame due to his tall stature but you don’t mind. his fingers are starting to gently twist your nipples so you quickly snap the picture before he becomes a horny man child.

you snap about five before releasing yourself from his grip and turning back around to give him a sweet kiss.

he grumbles into the kiss as his hands leave your boobs, “you’re a tease.”

“thanks, baby.”

[believerindaydreams]

me: we will resume normal service of Fallout shitposts and random memes at...some point.

[quijotine]

We interrupt your scheduled Truth ranting to bring you Day 3 of Adrinette April

ML Season 4 shitposting will resume after this message. 

@adrinetteapril

Day 3 - Game Night

Read on AO3

Marinette always played to win. She didn’t care what sort of challenge or competition it was. So long as there were an opponent and some sort of prize to win, she was game. And she was not the kind to touch her heart or think twice about backstabbing you if that meant winning the match, either. She went all out, or not at all. After all, games of any kind were the only occasions where Marinette allowed herself to unleash her ruthlessness, to blow off some steam.

Unfortunately, so did Adrien.

This was a fact initially only Nino knew, having been witness to a couple of his basketball matches and fencing competitions. The dude packed a punch. You could be easily fooled by his friendly, polite demeanor but one step into the mat, the court, or whatever kind of space where competition happened, and that mild-mannered boy flew out the window. This was a truth the girls learned much to their amused surprise when Alya invited them to a board game night.

Regrettably, though, it had been Marinette who had been at the receiving end of his competitiveness. Adrien and she had been playing as allies throughout a long round of Diplomacy when, at the very last minute, Adrien betrayed her to protect his troops from Alya. It didn’t help his case that she had managed to win anyway, thus making his betrayal of Marinette be all for nothing.

The thing is, Marinette knew this was a game and she wasn’t about to make a deal out of it, certainly not when this was Adrien in question. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to ruffle his feathers a little bit if she could, especially after finding out he was perhaps the only person she knew who was as competitive as her.

Besides, that betrayal demanded to be avenged and who was she to deny the universe what it asked for? Particularly when Uno was the weapon to exact her justice?

She smiled devilishly at her cards.

“So with the blank wildcard, I can set whatever order I want, right?” Marinette commented casually as she mulled over her next move while Nino and Alya struggled to organize the handful of cards they had acquired over the last few rounds. A regrettable bout of bad luck, plus Adrien’s quiet but ruthless strategizing had left them sharing a good two-thirds of the deck they were playing with.

All the while, Adrien grinned smugly at them, dangling the one card he had left, and utterly convinced nothing Marinette could come up with would prevent him from winning the round.

“Yeah,” Alya said.

“Okay!” Marinette said chirpily, already knowing the rules but just fishing for confirmation. She set down her blank wildcard and with the sweetest voice possible, she ordered, “Adrien, take all but five cards from both of Nino and Alya’s hand, and return any power card or wildcard to the deck.”

“No,” he gasped, while Nino and Alya burst into screeching laughter. “Mari, no!”

“Also, I pick red.”

“It’s not fair! They have the whole deck!” Adrien complained as both Alya and Nino pushed their little mounds of cards towards him, crying with laughter.

“I’m not taking them!” he protested.

“Oh yes, you are!” Nino said. “You’re the reason I have thirty cards in here, you bastard. You’re taking them!”

Adrien pouted and grumbled, resigning to take the collection and causing the three of his friends to wheeze with uncontrollable laughter as he struggled to organize his new hand of plus seventy cards. “You are evil , Marinette.”

“I will take no such slander from the man that threw me to the dogs,” Marinette said, mocking a dignified air, and causing Alya and Nino’s hysterical laughter to escalate.

“I had to do it or Alya would’ve taken my army!”

“You betrayed me. We were a team !”

Adrien sighed, finally laughing himself. “Okay fine. Just be prepared, I’m going to destroy you.”

“Bold talk for a fool who has more than half the deck,” Marinette said with a wink. “Next time, don’t betray your allies!”

Call it bad luck, call it Alya, Nino, and Marinette working in tandem to pulverize Adrien, but the poor boy could not get his groove back. Even after that horrendous round was finished, Adrien ended up losing in the next few as well, much to everybody else’s amusement.

“I see how it is, then,” he said, sourly, yet only on the surface. In reality, Adrien was elated to even have someone to bicker with over silly board games. His own collection, though much more extensive than Alya’s, sat at back at the Agreste mansion neatly organized by size and name, collecting dust.  

“If that’s how you’re going to play, fine by me. We’ll see who laughs last,” he grumbled as Marinette snickered at him.

“What was that you said?” she wondered, taunting him. “Something about destroying me?”

Laughter bubbled from the crevices in Adrien’s fake scowl. He was having too much fun to pretend he was mad.

“Yo, what other game are we playing?” Alya asked.

Adrien scanned the stack of battered board game boxes that sat on the counter of Alya’s dinner table and grinned, immediately snatching his pick. “This one!”

Marinette blew a raspberry. “Twister? You’re going to lose.”

“We’ll see about that, Pigtails,” he said with a smug smile.

After flipping a coin between Alya and Nino, who were both arguing to see who’d have the privilege of watching the certified chaos that it was going to be having Adrien and Marinette compete against each other, Nino was assigned as referee.

Alya, Marinette, and Adrien stood without shoes at the edge of the Twister mat waiting for Nino’s instructions. It started civilly enough.

“Left foot, red.”

“Left hand, green.”

Given that Marinette was in the middle and being the shortest of all three, Adrien seized the opportunity to claim the green spot that was closest to her. She yelped, taken aback, and forced to take the one immediately adjacent to the left, leaving her in an awkwardly stretched position.

“Right foot, blue.”

Adrien smirked, instantly applying the same strategy and forcing Marinette to slide under him to put her foot on a blue spot. “Adrien! You’re cheating!”

“I’m doing no such thing, you’re just bug-sized.”

Marinette gasped, both delighted and insulted at Adrien’s audacity. Alya was too busy laughing at her reaction to even care about the fact she had fallen down.

“Left hand, blue.”

“Adrien!” Marinette complained after Adrien took the closest spot to her once again.

He laughed with unbridled amusement as Marinette produced a tiny, “Eeep!” and fell down. Not content with the outcome of the game, she launched herself aiming for his ribs, knowing he was dangerously ticklish in that area.

Adrien produced an unfortunate wail-like sound before collapsing right underneath Marinette, who despite being squashed by him, was not deterred from continuing her attack.

“Ma--ri--MARINETTE STOP!” he exclaimed, laughing hysterically and rolling, trying to free himself from the tiny “bug-sized” girl.

“No!” Marinette said, laughing with malicious power. “You were cheating!”

“No, I WAS NOT! MARI!” Fighting the torturous tickling, he forced himself to sit so that he could return the attack.

Marinette squealed with a pitch higher than Adrien thought was humanly possible. Delighted by the way she squirmed and laughed, he kept tickling her.

“Stop!”

“No, no, you started it!”

It was Marinette’s unintentional jab at his stomach that put an end to the tickle fight. She managed to elbow Adrien hard enough that she knocked the wind off from him. He pleaded for a truce despite the fact Marinette was not attacking him anymore but rather was sitting next to him, mortified that she had hurt him.

“You’re a sore loser,” Adrien pointed out, giggling, delighted to have learned that particular fact about Marinette.

“And you’re a ruthless backstabber,” she retorted, grinning. “Two can play the guilt-trip game.“

“Hey, I play to win,” he said beaming at her.

“I’ll get you back next time we play Mecha Strike,” she threatened him, adorably poking her tongue out at him, thus defeating any sense of menace she could have possibly portrayed.

“Can’t wait,” Adrien said with an elated smile and a blush caused by all the tickling. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself.

[starneko123]

Yoomi & Köre/Nova Nagako Shitpost n' Incorrect Quotes pls?

Yoomi: I learned some very valuable lessons from this.

Korë: I'm guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should've taken away.

Yoomi: Death isn't real and I'm basically god.

Korë, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something.

Yoomi: I saw a squirrel in a tree today!

Korë, with the tons of someone who is used to Yoomi: Outstanding.

Korë: This is what I'm talking about people.

Korë: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back.

Yoomi: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.

Korë, going over Yoomi's resume: Okay, so right here, it states that you're creative.

Yoomi: Yes.

Korë: Okay...may I know what you create?

Yoomi: Problems.

Korë: This is a mistake.

Yoomi, enthusiastically: A mistake were going to laugh at one day.

Korë: But not today.

Yoomi, still enthusiastic: Oh no. Today's going to be a mess.

Yoomi: *Kicks the door down looking panicked*

Korë: What did you do?

Yoomi: Nobody died.

Korë: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?

Korë: I actually have a black belt.

Yoomi: In what, karate?

Korë: No, from Gucci.

Korë: I was arrested for being too cool.

Yoomi: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Korë: Don't worry I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Yoomi: I think you mean cards.

Korë, pulling knives out of her sleeves: No, I do not.

Yoomi: Can you keep a secret?

Korë: Do you know anything about my life?

Yoomi: No I do not. Good point.

Yoomi: Am I in trouble?

Korë: Take a guess.

Yoomi: No?

Korë: Take another guess.

Korë: Where are you going?

Yoomi: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I'll decide on the way there.

Korë: Violence isn't the answer.

Yoomi: You're right.

Korë: *sighs in relief*

Yoomi: Violence is the question.

Korë: What?

Yoomi, bolting away: And the answer is yes.

Korë, running after them: NO-

[tomatograter]

Two things, first do you feel like john/june and Dirk would get along together? I feel like they're personalities compliment each other nicely and secondly if you haven't listened to it, wow wow by Neil cicierega along with cabinet man by lemon demon are some great Dirk songs if you're ever lookin for some more!

i like neil’s work a lot! he’s basically a staple on shuffle at this point. and this is a complex question to me bc i feel the answer is... “not much”, but in an interesting way - for june, dirk is a downgrade version of vriska + terezi + rose and an edgier dave, far more invested in putting up elaborate displays of hypermasculinity and shutting out the slightest hint of public weakness to go on a textual deluge about a bazillion shitpost academic topics she could frankly find funnier sources for. Karkat is the only troll boy june references as ‘not lame’ in the entire comic and that’s because he was so easily, boisterously outraged at everything he delighted her, purely as a chatty bounce-off target. The way i see it, she probably takes conversations with dirk as a gesture of extended courtesy for hanging out with the other strilondes, but has better hangout options on the top of her list that don’t include pumping up her agonizing existential dread. Probably takes the chance to try wiseguy jokes and tricks to derail the more sluggish subjects. 

For dirk, both june and jade exist in this “i pretend i do not see” null space as jane and jake’s family (sometimes more awkwardly, their daughters) and people he just doesnt have the correct drive in mind to get to know but is dying to impress, for further establishing his reputation. But his definition of making “a good impression” doesn’t always quite match with theirs. Jade probably earnestly debates him on robotics and is interested to hear some of his more engaging musings on theories, but she’s got an historically intimidating resume on her alpha self, one he’s well aware of. (i think its p funny to think about them going over shared subjects, in terms of art & furries & botanics & mechanics, it wracks his nerves). June is on the flipside here of having less common ground to positively play with, because she *likes* to push back and poke fun at you (sometimes in a mean spirited way) even if he’s got his funny clown pants on, and sorta looks like shes tuning out or trying to distract him into losing sight of the discourse when he has his business outfit put instead. Can easily make a dude feel more frustratingly self-absorbed than usual, like whatever he does her sim points won’t really go up & are always in the verge of tipping to negative. I always think of them as the awkward connections in big family parties, which can end up funny sometimes but have you wistfully wishing for a saving grace.

[gisellelx]

I believe resume will be taught to be racist towards people who aren’t white

The pragmatics of this ask suggest that this is maybe something the asker expects me to disagree with? 

Renesmee is (at this point in the timeline was) raised by extremely rich, pretty oblivious white people, some of whom have histories involving incredibly overtly racist actions, and none of whom grew up in a time which would’ve been conducive to starting to question the inherently racist structure of U.S. Society. 

Of course she would develop racist attitudes and no one would even notice. 

But here’s the thing I hope would happen, and certainly headcanon for my Kairos AU (Bella and Esme don’t survive BD and C & Ed end up together) which is that the fact that she is Gen Zer, with the ability to hop on Instagram and TikTok and tumblr and all these spaces where people her “age” are confronting white supremacy, patriarchy, heterosexism and other systemic societal ills would cause her to ask questions. I like the version of Renesmee who is a royal PITA to the rest of the Cullens even when it makes them uncomfortable. (@notquitetwilight ‘s shitpost Resentment Cullen Instagram is something I take as more than just a shitpost. I think it’s probably spot on--if you’ve never seen it, go find it.) I think that’s a plausible thing, and were this where I wanted to go in fic writing, I would love to explore what that tension is like. From a writing standpoint, that makes her a very useful character. If you try to impose anti-racist attitudes on the Cullens because you just want the story to be less racist, it feels very forced and the reader feels the heavy hand of the fic writer. This lends to a very preachy sounding fic (I’ve read several). 

Renesmee actually offers a really interesting twist to the narrative in that regard. She is a character who can grow and who would have some perfectly understandable reasons to develop attitudes which are at odds with those of the rest of her family. And that means she could be used as a character who helps shine a light on these highly problematic parts of the original story and could be used to change them in a way that doesn’t feel like the author smashing in with a heavy fist. There’s also the distinct possibility that she will end up in an interracial relationship. Not saying that plenty of probelmatic AF white people don’t end up in interracial relationships, but it can allow for growth on the part of the white partner, if that growth is allowed to happen.  It’s all the more reason Meyer needs to leave Jacob/Renesmee alone. If she writes them with her utter resistance to self-reflection about her own biases, none of this repair is possible. Ficcers have to do it; we’re the only ones who can.  Also this is a really good spot for me to tag @renegadepack and the Anti Racism Twilight Resource carrd--if you’ve read this far, you should think more about these questions. https://arrfortwilightfans.carrd.co/

[bite-me-didyme]

Why is everyone calling Renesmee"Resume"? I came late and i'm a little bit lost haha

Lmao I have answers for you

Shitpost answer: what? Those are the same words.

Serious answer: When humans read things, at some point your eyes stop processing every letter and just make general assumptions based off the grouping of shapes. So a word we've never seen before can become a keyboard smash in our heads really quickly. Renesmee is an unusual name (I've never seen it outside Twilight or Twilight related contexts) with an unusual spelling; resume is a fairly average vocab word, and it has most of the same letters, so our reading brains can easily link them after a couple examples. Additionally, the multitude of memes based off misspelling benedict cumberbatch's name and alexander hamilton's name show that misspelling long/complicated names is a form of humor, based off internetisms and unintentional autocorrect-isms. A lot of people thought Renesmee's name was nonsensical and complicated, as well as out of character for Isabella "please call me just Bella" Swan-Cullen, so we made a joke about ridiculously misspelling it.

[missmeikakuna]

The Girl Who Cried Gay

Rated: T-M (It's something I can see a teenager reading and enjoying but could be given a more mature rating due to the swearing and the edgy jokes the characters make.) Fandom: Original story Relationship type: F/F Description: Edgy teenager Jimena's idea of a joke is coming out to her classmates every day. The thing is, she actually is gay but is too chicken to come out for real, playing off her numerous attempts as a joke. But this time she's going to tell the truth and confess to her best friend, the equally edgy rebel Vinciane. Her plan? Write an entire song in two weeks and perform it in front of everyone. Should be easy, right?

Right? Notes:

I want to thank Tyler, the Creator for inspiring this story. Your numerous jokes about you being into dudes before coming out for real was a source of fascination for me, which is why I wrote this story. Also, Igor is a great album. Congrats on the Grammy.

For my readers, keep in mind that my opinions do not always match those of the characters. These girls say things I never would. I hope you find them entertaining.

CONTENT WARNING: There is a mention of suicide but no actual suicide, just the characters being edgelords and joking about the topic.

Jimena picked her teeth with one of the spikes on her boots, which she had shaken off as the school day drew to a close. Before that afternoon’s teacher had the chance to chastise her for her choice in outfit… again… she stood on top of the table. 

‘I’ve got something to tell you all. I…’ She wobbled a little on the table. ‘Woah, this is pretty difficult.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m gay.’

Everyone, the teacher included, rolled their eyes and resumed their in-class tasks. Vinciane leaned back in her seat as she looked up at Jimena. She watched this grand reveal with a smirk on her face that would make a lawyered-up business mogul jealous. 

Her short, dyed red hair in a sidecut was a constant source of frustration for the teachers. Jimena tried to copy it with her black hair but settled on a faux sidecut with braids. In fact, she tried to copy every aspect of her appearance, a feat made difficult by their differing body types, with Jimena being tall and thin and Vinciane being short and curvy. Both wore dark and heavy makeup, also causing a stir among the teachers. 

Vinciane almost dropped her smirk when she saw Jimena’s hands turn into trembling fists. Almost.

There was little point in being concerned since it wasn’t long before Jimena laughed and applauded herself.

‘You should have seen the looks on your faces! Get wrecked!’ She plopped back down off the table and nudged Vinciane in the ribs. ‘Lezzies for life, Vinny?’ she said, holding out her pinky finger and rivalling her smirk with her own. ‘We’ll get our own U-Haul and argue over who makes the sandwiches.’

Vinciane tied her pinky around Jimena’s. ‘Wouldn’t have it any other way. By the way, I’m making the sandwiches.’ Her accent was lightly French.

The two laughed loud enough to cause another quick lecture on manners from the teacher. Then it was Jimena’s turn to roll her eyes. Being the rebellious girl she was, she flipped the bird at her teacher… under the table.

That night, Jimena held her pillow in between her chest and her knees, slouching against her bedframe. She lifted her pinky and stared at it before bringing it to her lips in a gentle kiss. She looked at the acoustic guitar at the other end of the room, romantic lyrics flittering in her head.

The punk text tone on her bedside table sent lightning up Jimena’s spine. It was Vinciane’s favourite song. The text was accompanied by a poorly shot photo.

I put a gold bath bomb in and now the bathwater looks like piss. FML. Gonna kill myself, brb.

Jimena responded a little later than she had hoped, taking time to craft her text.

Is that a toaster in your bathtub or are you happy to see me?

Vinciane’s next text pushed Jimena’s heart up to her throat.

¿Por qué no los dos? Btw, you almost had me fooled today. Almost convinced me your verbal coming out shitpost was real. Excellent job, my love 😉

Oh, yeah. Shitpost. 

Jimena pulled her numerous blankets on top of her body and rolled around until she was caved in by warmth. It did little to bring a smile back to her face, but at least she could bury herself and perhaps never come out.

The pity party was crashed by her mother calling her to the dinner table. She had no choice but to crawl out of her blanket cocoon and enjoy a nice meal of… supermarket tacos.

Two thoughts battled for prominence in Jimena’s mind. The first was wondering how her parents could have possibly come from Mexico when they had the most Americanised tastes. 

The second was the reopening of the recent wound caused by her friend.

¿Por qué no los dos?

Her mother heard her sigh and asked her how school was. Jimena shrugged, using the beef and lettuce in her mouth as an excuse not to talk. Her mother didn’t buy it. Not that she ever could, what with Jimena resting her feet on the table and scowling at no one in particular.

After lecturing her on keeping the table clean, she asked, ‘Why must you always wear those shoes? Is this because of that girl?’

As Jimena managed to prove, swallowing food in an unambiguously angry way was something humans could do. A light clink hit everyone’s ears as she kicked the salt shaker, causing it to collide with her mother’s plate.

‘Leave her out of this,’ Jimena said in the clipped voice of someone who wanted to yell but knew she would receive a yell in return.

Her father tried to speak calmly. Emphasis on ‘tried’.‘We’re just a little concerned that you’ve, well, been acting differently since befriending her. You used to be such a bright girl. And why won’t you wear the dresses I made you?’ His voice cracked a little at the question.

‘Well, maybe you should make clothes that I actually want to wear.’

‘I don’t appreciate that tone, young lady,’ her mother chastised her, raising her voice even louder. There it was: the yell.

‘Well, you’re going to hear that tone a lot longer if you don’t shut the hell up!’ 

Jimena shouted, getting out of her seat and storming off to her room. She then went back into the dining room to retrieve her tacos and brought them to her room. 

She took her phone out and texted with one hand while holding one taco in the other.

My parents can step in dog shit while stuck in a time loop. Shit on their shoes for all eternity.

After a few minutes that felt more like fifty, Vinciane responded in an almost insultingly short text.

Mood

Rather than take the length as an insult, Jimena held her phone to her chest and giggled. She was unsure whether it was the heat from the phone or something else that made her heart feel so warm.

That sensation didn’t last long when she remembered that Vinciane lived with her aunt. She immediately texted an apology. She didn’t have to wait long before getting a message back.

Don’t sweat it. If I lived under their house, I would have to live under their rules. My aunt gets me better anyway. She’s even okay with my nose ring.

The two continued texting through the night, and not once did Jimena admit to looking forward to going to school the next day. 

The day that followed involved Vinciane skipping class and, without even asking her, being followed by Jimena. Vinciane sat by the pond, a place students weren’t allowed to be within ten feet of, and took out a cigarette. Upon seeing the horrified look on Jimena’s face, she chuckled and lowered her eyelids until they were half-closed.

‘You worried these will turn me from a dyke to a fag?’ she asked in a strong Cockney accent. ‘Don’t worry, love, I would never leave you.’ She took a drag of the cigarette and opened her eyes fully, returning to her original accent. ‘Oh, speaking of which, any guys you think are cute?’

‘None as cute as you,’ Jimena murmured, then gulped when she saw that Vinciane heard her. The stone she was sitting on started feeling mighty uncomfy.

‘No, but seriously. No one? There’s a guy who’s got my eye- what’s wrong?’

Jimena was looking down, focusing her eyes on the hem of her plaid skirt as she fiddled with it. Anything to stop tears from falling.

‘I’m gay.’ A laugh came from Jimena’s mouth out of habit. 

Vinciane joined in. ‘Yeah, yeah. So which guy do you like?’

Jimena shrugged. ‘No one at this stupid school.’

‘Fair point.’ Some of the smoke reached Jimena, who couldn’t help but cough. This earned a snicker from Vinciane. Jimena pouted and reached for the other girl’s cigarette packet. Vinciane guarded it with her free hand. ‘I don’t think you’re ready for that. Wait ‘til you stop sounding like you’re dying of tuberculosis.’

‘No way. If I’m going out, it’s gonna be human mad cow disease that takes me down.’

‘Or AIDs.’

Jimena smiled and gave Vinciane a finger gun. ‘Or AIDS.’ The two were silent for a moment as Vinciane finished her cigarette. She squished the butt into the ground and stood up, stretching her arms and yawning. 

‘Um, why exactly do you go to school anyway if you’re going to skip class?’ Jimena eventually asked.

Vinciane brushed her fingers through her hair. The sight took Jimena’s breath from her. ‘I mean, you’re here. And where else am I going to go?’

Jimena didn’t know how to respond to that, not that her airless lungs would have allowed her to respond at all. All she could really do was look away from Vinciane’s plump lips and pray that she would soon be able to breathe properly again.

A decision managed to get air pumping through her veins again. She was going to come out for real, and she was going to make it as convincing as possible.

At home that night, she jotted down ideas for this ceremony onto her notes app. The following morning, she gave Vinciane vague details about an announcement she planned to make and a song she would use to do it.

‘Is this another one of your coming out ceremonies? This might be your most over the top one yet. Looking forward to it.’

‘No, no, it’s quite different. Okay, so for the announcement song, I will sing it to you and you’ll sit there all surprised.’

‘What will you be announcing?’

‘I have to make sure you look surprised.’

‘You saying I can’t act?’ Vinciane asked as she crossed her arms.

‘That’s not what I mean! I just want the song to be a surprise to everyone, including you. I may dance around you, by the way, so don’t be surprised by that. Focus on the content.’

‘So where are you going to say… er, sing this announcement?’

‘The cafeteria at lunch, two weeks for now. That should be long enough to write and rehearse a song, right?’

‘I guess. So are you going to play the song on your acoustic guitar?’

‘I was thinking of asking the music department to borrow one of their electric guitars. I think the song would be cool with a punk edge.’

‘Good luck getting one in two weeks. And an electric guitar kind of needs a band with it, so you’ll be spending a lot of those two weeks trying to get bandmates. Won’t the song be more, I don’t know, sincere sounding if it’s acoustic?’

‘You think so? You sure it wouldn’t be fake deep? I don’t want to sound like some hipster dude trying to pick up a girl at a coffee shop.’

‘If the lyrics are sincere, an acoustic guitar will highlight them. I doubt you’ll sound pretentious.’ 

Jimena took a deep breath and put her fist in her other hand as she exhaled. ‘Okay, I’ve got this.’

Vinciane stroked Jimena’s hair, not noticing the warmth radiating from the other’s cheeks. ‘I know you do.’ 

Instead of hanging out with Vinciane, Jimena spent lunchtime putting lyrics into her phone. Vinciane kept walking up to her and trying to sneak a glance, but Jimena’s screen-covering reflexes were way too good.

At home, Jimena continued typing on her phone, even during dinner. Cue the nagging from both her parents, whom she ignored.

As she lay in bed, she tried to continue typing away but the claws of doubt picked at her brain. She sat on her side, listening to the scarce sounds surrounding her. Her ears picked up the whir of a sewing machine, a sound that pulled her up like the strings of a marionette. After listening for a while with her eyes closed, the familiarity of the sound lulled her back down onto the bed.

She knew exactly what was going on and was tempted to tell her father not to bother, but the sound softened the pillow she lay on. She let it play in the background like an ambient album full of rain sounds.

Before she could fall asleep, and boy was she tempted to, an idea popped into her head. She sat up again and grabbed her guitar, playing riffs in time with her father’s sewing. The plucking of her guitar mirrored the sound of the needle.

She made a new note on her phone and wrote new lyrics referencing the sewing terms she could remember her father mentioning. Half an hour later, she put the phone down and got into her pajamas. 

The first thing Jimena saw when she woke up was a finished dress hanging from the doorknob. A piece of paper was taped to the hanger, saying, ‘For when you perform your next song’. She smiled until she received a text from Vinciane. She pictured Vinciane scrunching her nose at her and tossed the dress next to the bin tucked in the corner of her room.

The following lunchtime, it was Take Two for Vinciane’s attempts to uncover Jimena’s lyrics. Once again, she failed.

‘Come on, can’t you show me a little bit?’

‘For the last time, no!’

A pout stayed on Vinciane’s lips for the rest of the day. 

When she dropped her backpack by her bed, Jimena saw the dress her father had made neatly folded on the bed. She sighed and threw it back towards the bin, narrowly missing it. The next few days were a pattern of the dress appearing folded on the bed and her throwing it in the bin. Each day, her father’s shoulders drooped further and further until he looked like a caveman with depression.

During those days Vinciane didn’t pry any longer and instead spent the time sitting next to Jimena and offering words of encouragement as the girl silently edited her own lyrics. She reached for Jimena’s free hand but Jimena wriggled out of her grasp to start typing with two hands.

Once again, Vinciane pouted for the remainder of the day.

Jimena practised over and over again at home, at least until her mother yelled at her to knock it off. The ‘knock it off’ point was at 10 o’clock at night. She gave her mother the middle finger but did indeed knock it off.

However, she continued adjusting the sheet music and playing the song in her head well into the night. Naturally, this led to her coming to school with bags under her eyes and little patience for Vinciane’s gestures of friendliness. Apparently a quick, non-invasive question about how the song was going was enough to set off an atomic bomb.

‘Shut it, Vinny!’

Vinciane blinked and stepped back. ‘Sorry.’

Jimena almost apologised too but couldn’t bring the words out. Vinciane made sure not to bother her until the two weeks were up.

Having her muse not by her side made it both easier and more difficult to practice the song. On the one hand, more time to herself without worrying about the secret getting out. On the other, no words of support and no one to look at when she needed a boost of inspiration. Doubt’s claws scratched at her psyche again.

That night, she sat in the dark, Vinciane’s verging-on-tears face playing over and over in her head like a scratched CD. 

The morning of the performance day was the same as usual, complete with the neatly folded dress on the bed. Jimena groaned as she shoved the dress into her backpack.

Vinciane didn’t show up at class. Alarms rang in Jimena’s ears. What if the most important audience member wasn’t there for the performance?

After changing at the beginning of lunch, she wasted valuable rehearsal time searching the school for Vinciane. She wasn’t at the pond nor behind the gardener’s shed where the druggies usually hung out. 

It was five minutes before the end of lunch by the time she found Vinciane in a classroom. The same classroom Vinciane would have been in that morning had she not skipped class.

Vinciane’s eyes popped out of their sockets upon seeing Jimena in the dress. Its colour was not unfamiliar- black, as always. However, it was frilly and lacy and buoyant, paired with knee-high socks and a little bonnet. It was utterly adorable.

As soon as the shock wore off, she glared at her. ‘Come to tell me to shut it?’ Jimena tightened her grip on her acoustic guitar. ‘Or maybe you want to take me to the cafeteria so everyone can hear the song you refused to show me.’

Jimena stepped closer and began playing the guitar. She breathed in, then out, then in again. 

‘You pull me in... like a thread caught in a sewing machine.’ She pronounced the last syllable of ‘machine’ pretty weakly to get it to rhyme with ‘in’.

She continued. ‘I don’t know where this is going. This sin.... gives me pins and needles, you’re giving me the feels. Now I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.’

She strummed the guitar rapidly, sending a warm sound to a smiling Vinciane. ‘I’m really sorry if I’m bursting at the seams. It’s so hard standing next to the girl of my dreams. When you’re edgy, I keep folding like a hem. It’s so hard to admit that you’re my favourite femme.’

Vinciane’s cheeks went red while Jimena’s playing slowed down. ‘Your jokes leave me in stitches but my foot’s in my mouth. I want to tell you how I feel but I don’t know how.’

Jimena circled around Vinciane’s chair, speeding up her strumming. Her heart was beating faster than the song but, for the first time, she wasn’t going to back out now.

She returned to the tune she started with. ‘Well, I’m as straight... as the hem of a big swing skirt. Don’t hate, I’m not looking to get hurt. A date... would be wonderful, don’t judge. My feelings simply won’t budge and I feel like this might as well be fate.’

It was time for the outro. ‘No, this is no joke. No this is no prank. I’m gay as fuck and with some luck, I got you in my ranks. This is the real me and yes, my heart is true. I’m not that tough, it’s all a bluff. Just know that I like you.’

Vinciane looked into Jimena’s eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She stood up and whispered in her ear, sending tingles down her spine.

‘You didn’t need to act tough, you know. I’d have liked you either way.’

‘Um, so about that guy you have your eye on-’ Jimena asked.

‘Oh, that?’ Vinciane’s smirk returned as she put her index finger against her own lips. ‘That was a lie. Just wanted to test the waters, plus I didn’t know how to tell you. You won’t get mad at me for that, right?’

Jimena shook her head and then rubbed the back of her neck. ‘So, uh, how does a date sound?’

‘Make it two. Then we can get a U-Haul. I’m still making the sandwiches, by the way. I’ve seen you in Home Ec and you kind of suck in the kitchen.’

Jimena giggled and grabbed her hand as the two walked out of the classroom. ‘Sounds like a plan. But for now, we should just focus on how to convince everyone else that we’re a couple for real this time.’

Vinciane shrugged. ‘Does it matter? I know and you know. Who cares what the others think?’

The bell rang and Vinciane followed Jimena into another classroom. During class, they spent less time listening to the teacher and more times sneaking glances at each other. Vinciane played with the ribbon attached to Jimena’s bonnet, twirling the pretty fabric around her finger. Jimena ran her kitten-heeled shoe over the spikes on Vinciane’s boot, smiling at the rough sound.

[veryimportantsparkles]

Alright I’ve kept meaning to do sort of an infodump on my projects because I’ve been really slipping lately.  I dunno how obvious it is?  Probably kind of obvious.  I’ve also been really bad about checking messages and responding to people.  So I figure I can write up a status report and then point to it when I’ve been inadequate about communication.

My IRL job has been wiping me out.  I’ve been getting short, labor-intensive shifts in the evenings, and then random surprise morning shifts shortly after, which has been really hard to manage my time around.  My sleep schedule has been extremely broken and it’s affected my productivity a LOT.  Leadership in my department is about to shuffle around and I’ve been interviewed for the manager position.  If I get it I’ll be working an entirely different schedule, which could potentially be good for my sleepy brain but will definitely leave me with less art time overall.  I’ve also been enduring some back/shoulder issues over the past few months.  Nothing urgent, but it’s limiting how much I can draw each day.  I think replacing my desk chair is going to be a big factor but it’s not the only factor.  I just need to be a smart human and take care of my joints and not hunch over so much.  Working on it.

Here’s the current status of my various art projects:

Laserwing

I ended chapter 5 in June and said I would finish up some other side projects before I start concept work for chapter 6.  One of the projects I needed to finish was the Popkas Yugioh season 4 special, which I finished.  The other big one was my Neonmob card set, which is most of what I’ve been posting lately.  Once that’s out of the way (see below) I need to do concept art.  Chapter 6 will put all the Laserwing characters in new outfits which will need reference sheets.  I’ll need background sketches and layout diagrams so I don’t have furniture shuffle randomly around between scenes.  I also need to sketch out the chapter 6 draft page by page.  I’ve made Laserwing in GIMP up until this point and am going to try switching to Krita for chapter 6.  I might need to do a test page to make sure my process transfers over well into a slightly different system.  Once I’m ready to make real pages, those take a while.  Chapter 5 pages were going up maybe every 2-3 weeks.  I don’t know how many pages are going to be in chapter 6, nor can I say for sure how many chapters are in Laserwing.  An old outline had maybe 40 chapters.  It’s a story with a defined end point, I can say that for certain, but it’s intended to be long.

Popkas

I’ve had issues with Popkas for a while.  I keep picking new themes for dailies, thinking they’re going to be quick and easy, but then end up making them hard for myself.  It’s been to my benefit, I’ve forced myself into learning new art programs and techniques through Popkas.  But it’s hard to keep up the daily schedule.  Currently I’m doing the Paper Mario: TTYD bestiary, which has 124 enemies.  At a rate of one per day, by the time I’ve finished them, Pokemon Sword and Shield should be released and we’ll have all the info about the new Pokemon.  Those will be drawn in ‘Popka classic’ style (scribbly shitposts).  After those are finished, unless my IRL work situation dramatically changes, I’m considering putting Popkas on pause.  In order to do any other monster dexes I’d have to do a lot more research (for example, people have suggested Yokai Watch but I’ve never played one) in order to have anything meaningful to post.  Same deal with Popka Specials (the anime writeup things), those take prep time and anime-watching time that I might not have.  I don’t ever want to end Popkas, but a hiatus might be necessary.

Angelfire Hime

Did anyone even know about Angelfire Hime?  Well I want to post more but that involves finding, scanning, retouching, and transcribing my old high school scribble comics.  It takes as long as any other project but is also low priority because it’s all old content.  Nobody is waiting for the latest update because nobody but me actually knows what that content is, and possibly nobody but me can even read it.  It’s more a personal journey of self-reflection than anything.  I want to return to it but not at the expense of better work.

MeganFantastic dot com

I had a domain name linked to a tumblr that was supposed to be my news blog/front page and I barely use it.  Also, I let the domain registration drop.  Also, I had let a typo in my banner graphic go unnoticed for YEARS and still haven’t fixed it.  Even now, I’m writing this big post to my personal blog instead of the one for news.  The idea was to eventually buy some real hosting and make MeganFantastic a whole site of its own, but that’s a lot of work.  I’ve got a generally good idea of HOW I’d do it (probably wordpress) but I’m not a coder, it would take a lot of trial and error.  This would be a huge undertaking and eventually Laserwing, Popkas, and all my other junk would be contained on one big non-tumblr website.  But it’s uhhhhh not happening yet.

Hundera Youtube

My contribution to our LP channel is to show up, talk about video games, and then draw title cards.  All recording, editing, and channel management is maintained by Josh, and I can’t speak on his behalf about our update schedule.  I will say there are a lot of half-finished games we want to return to.  I will also say that when the new Pokemon comes out Josh is dead set on recording it.  I don’t know if he intends that to be a stream or a regular LP.  In the meantime he streams Minecraft with his friends every Sunday and we fit in our own streams and recordings when we can.

Commissions/Patron Art/etc

I’ve not been very good about this lately and I’m truly sorry!  I have a few things I’m working on, a few things I’ve promised to start working on, and a few things I’ve told people I can do once my workload lightens up, which hasn’t been happening yet.  I really don’t have an answer.  I almost never delete anything so if I’ve been sent a message in any form I should still have it, and I’ll be sure not to forget anyone.  And if I do forget someone feel free to throw rocks at me!

Rane Story 2

What the heck is Rane Story 2?  Well I guess I have to explain Neonmob.  Imagine if ChickenSmoothie and DeviantART had a baby.  It’s a virtual trading card site, which is fun and cute, and I’m drawing out a card series to release on there.  I’ve been using it as practice for painting backgrounds and to fill out some backstory for some 4th-string Laserwing support characters.  Before Mistaire came to Earth, she went to space high school, and that’s where Rane Story takes place.  You can preview the series, and when it’s finished I’ll post about it.  I’ll also repost all the art to DA.  If you scroll through the last several pages of this blog you’ll see some of the art.  I’ve put a lot of my brain energy into getting this done in spite of my work/sleep issues because I don’t want to resume Laserwing until I’ve finished it.  This is what’s stolen my life, guys.  Right now I have 6 more cards to make, and then I have to write and finalize all the text.  I should be done SOON.

Pokemon Nonsense

When my back and shoulder get too hurty and I have to take a break from drawing, one of the easy things to do is whip out a DS and play Pokemon.  I’ve done a lot of twitter shitposting about it lately.  I’ve also drawn up a bunch of gijinkas for my Pokemon.  I’m talking about it now because I also intend to draw up gijinkas for Pokemon to trade away.  I’ve already done a few.  However, I don’t know for sure how I’m going to distribute them.  The idea is people can trade actual Pokemon with me (in either X or Let’s Go Eevee) and the Pokemon they get will come with a character design for you to keep.  I was thinking I might do a discord server for organizing trades and such, but I haven’t yet.  Mostly because it’s low priority and I have SO many other things going on.  But actually playing Pokemon can happen when I’m too fatigued for real work, so the horde keeps growing.  Hopefully my posts and scribbles about it are entertaining.

I feel like there’s other projects on hold that I wanted to discuss, but right now I’m too braintired to remember, and some of my ‘projects’ never actually got talked about online so nobody’s waiting for an update.  My greatest problem seems to be that I try to juggle too many pointless side projects and then drop them all over the place.  Sometimes I’ll shitpost about an idea and even I won’t be sure if I was serious or not.  How do I end this post?  I don’t know.

tl;dr Megan is SLEEPY and dropped her spaghetti everywhere but somehow still has time to play POKEMON and WON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT IT