#THAT WAS THE MOST HALF ASSED WAHOO

[gender-euphowrya]

oh THAT WAS INSULTING

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XI good omens season 1 finale I'M SORRY THIS IS LATE, I WAS READING FANFIC.

How is this a title I'm now forced to write. Yes, I know it's been a week since I finished episode 6 with you maggots. And today is the day we start season 2. However, I, the Official Good Omens Mascot, procrastinated writing part XI, because I was reading too much good omens fanfiction. Yesterday I do believe I was reading till 3 in the morning. Thanks guys.

Season 1 finale, or whatever I can figure out with my records of the watch along chat, at least. WAHOO.

[EDIT: I'm back at the intro after finishing this post, and I realised this is a very long summary, because most of it is me yelling at you guys. As I typed it I started reliving my rage of last week. Read on if you dare, yes the post is long, and yes the second half is in all caps. THIS TOOK EMOTION. YOU GUYS BETTER REBLOG IT INSTEAD OF LIKING IT SILENTLY WHILE LAUGHING AT MY PAIN. I WANT MY RAGE EVERYWHERE ON TUMBLR.]

Someone puts a message about how Crowley can no longer sense Aziraphale's presence, and again for some reason covers it with black. My reaction is of course horrified, and then everyone tells me to STOP CLICKING THE SPOILERS, ASMI.

So that's what that was. I realise this out loud, and everyone is ready to cry with exasperation. I explain to them very reasonably that while I don't read every message on the watch-along chat, every time there is a black message I assume it's important and I click on all of them to reveal the text.

Realising the spoiler function has backfired, as most things do with me, the chat sighs and everyone goes for a break. Then someone puts another blacked out message about the bookshop, and I react to that, leading to another blacked out message which simply says STOP CLICKING THE BLACK.

Oops, I already forgot. THE SPOILERS ARE JUST TOO CLICKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. I HAVE TO CLICK ALL OF THEM.

Someone says I forgive you, Asmi. I reply with Don't bother, which leads to tears and threats to stab me. The chat maggots give up and we start episode 6.

There is a random flashforward. I don't understand what is happening, but then again, I never do.

Back at the airfield. Crowley walks in, recognises their hubby instantly, and takes charge sexily. Then the Bentley bursts into flames.

Crowley is heartbroken. No one comforts them. When I point this out (read, YELL IT AT THE CHAT IN DEVASTATION) someone tells me that this is how it always is.

APPARENTLY DAVID WAS TOLD TO THINK ABOUT THE TARDIS EXPLODING IN THAT MOMENT. I HATE THAT I KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.

Crowley needs all the therapy. Someone says kinder fanfic authors give it to him. LIES, I point out, FIRST THEY GIVE HIM EVEN MORE REASON FOR THERAPY. THEN GIVE HIM THERAPY.

Everyone is yelling about a fanfic called demonology while Adam the Antichrist feels so weird at Aziraphale being inside someone that's not Crowley that he separates them in the First Bigeneration style. Doctor Who is inspired.

Aziraphale like the babygirl he is, tries to girlboss his way through the situation by making Crowley murder the kid.

Pepper FUCKING STABS WAR IN THE NAME OF FEMINISM WITH THE SWORD OF EDEN AND THEN OTHER TWO KIDS END THE OTHER HORSEPERSONS IN THE NAME OF HOMECOOKED MEALS AND ECOFRIENDLINESS AND WHAT THE FUCK THESE KIDS ARE TWELVE WHAT PERCY JACKSON LEVEL OF BADASSERY-

Crowley and Aziraphale give a half-assed attempt at a father-son (gn) talk with the Antichrist as the world is ending. It is a terrible contribution to saving the world. The Antichrist thankfully has inherent common sense, because he wasn't raised by them.

Aziraphale tries to overshare his and Crowley's meetcute and has to be shushed by an embarrassed Crowley who is trying to keep them alive.

Satan is supposed to arrive. I mistakenly assume Gabriel is actually Satan. Which pleases a lot of people.

Gabriel and Beezlebub talk and blame Crowley and Aziraphale (who contributed exactly JACK SHIT to averting the apocalypse).

I kind of ship Gabriel and Beezlebub after seeing them interact for 30 seconds, which for some fucking reason leads to a lot of reactions and yelling. I want them to be together. Which leads to more yelling. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY CANON?

Satan arrives. Antichrist disowns him. Through the power of Manifestation, Law of Attraction and Positive Thinking, Adam is now no longer the Antichrist, Satan leaves, none of this happened and the BENTLEY AND BOOKSHOP ARE SAVED.

NO ONE IS FUCKING HUGGING CROWLEY. I'M GOING TO STAB A BITCH.

There is the bus stop scene Crowley asks Aziraphale to move in with him and they hold hands I DON'T FUCKING KNOW BY NOW THE CHAT HAS DESCENDED INTO CHAOS I'VE LOST MY BRAINCELLS.

ICE CREAM DATE AND SUDDEN INVASION AND I'M WATCHING THE ACTING AND I'M LIKE HANG ON A SECOND SOMETHING IS OFF AND I ASK SUDDENLY IF THEY SWITCHED.

THAT'S RIGHT, I ASK IF THEY SWITCHED. I KNEW THERE WAS A SWITCH AND I THOUGHT IT WAS MIDWAY THROUGH SEASON 2. BUT THE SIGNS ARE TOO MANY HERE. EVERYONE IS NOW YELLING AND PEOPLE KEEP IGNORING ME.

ALL THE ACTING IS FLIPPED I'M NOT BLIND YOU FUCKERS. AZIRAPHALE'S FACE IS DOING CROWLEY'S COULDNT-CARE-LESS EXPRESSION AND HE'S QUESTIONING HEAVEN AND CROWLEY'S TALKING HAS LESS CONSONANTS THAN USUAL AND NO CROWLEY SASS MORE AZIRAPHALE SASS IT'S THE SAME BACKGROUND AS THE NOSE-SCRUNCH SCENE AND SURELY THAT WAS AZIRAPHALE RIGHT.

EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME TO WAIT AND SEE. I KEEP YELLING THAT THEY MUST HAVE SWITCHED.

SOMEONE SAYS I'M EITHER A MADMAN OR A GENIUS. I TELL THEM I'M BOTH BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT DID THEY FUCKING SWITCH.

I'M NOW QUESTIONING MYSELF BECAUSE EVERYONE ISN'T LYING BUT THEY'RE MAKING ME QUESTION MY REALITY SO THE CLASSIC GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSSING.

I'M YELLING ABOUT HOW ONLY AZIRAPHALE WOULD BE POLITE ABOUT JACKETS AND SURVIVE HOLY WATER. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING AT ME. I'M NOW 60% SURE I'M WRONG.

PEOPLE KEEP YELLING WAIT AND SEE AND TALKING ABOUT SADIE AND DOTTIE I HATE IT HERE.

CROWLEY IS IN HEAVEN THAT WAS HIS DISMISSIVE LOOK I'M NOW 90% SURE I'M RIGHT. I'M YELLING ABOUT IT.

ADAM LEAVES THE GARDEN IN A METAPHOR AND THEN AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY SWITCHED BACK. THEY SWITCHED BACK. I WAS FUCKING RIGHT. I AM LIVID. I AM YELLING.

IT'S VERY EMOTIONAL AND NIGHTINGALES AND THEY TOAST THE WORLD AND I'M VERY EMOTIONAL BUT I'M COPING BY THREATENING MURDER BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING RIGHT.

THE END.

SEE YOU GUYS TODAY AT SEASON 2 I GUESS GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

[tianhai03]

You've mentioned before that Dante is uncomfortable with his demonic heritage, do you want to talk about that?

should probably start off by showing where exactly we see his feelings abt being half demon, so here's where i got that from (this is from pg 249 of before the nightmare, the dmc5 prequel novel. you can find a pdf of it here):

there are other instances in the series where we get hints of him being uncomfortable abt his own demonic heritage, but afaik this is the most In Your Face one. it literally says right there. "he was sick of turning into something else."

it took dante a long, LONG time to get comfortable with his own powers. he probably didnt feel comfortable with it until he got his SDT in dmc5, because this was from his first encounter with urizen. he's been living with his demonic blood that gave him powers, the same power that saved his and many other people's lives, ever since he was born, and yet he was never comfortable with it. i think a lot of people forget abt that very often.

people only see dante when hes the wacky wahoo pizza man, because he rarely ever lets others see the real him; the dante who is probably so sick of the demonic blood running through his own veins he hated seeing himself, let alone his demonic form. i'm sure throughout his life he wished he was just some normal guy very often. it's exhausting having to constantly try to hide yourself from everyone else.

but hey! everything's fine and good now because he found his family again in 5, he finally learned how to accept both his human AND demonic blood as parts of himself (and got a cool new demon form out of it), and he's now on his way to kicking more demon ass with his brother while they fix their relationship. life's finally starting to look good for dante and i'm sure he's happier now :)

[calcium-chan]

OLD BULLSHIT DUMP

its time to dump a bunch of stuff i have no other place for but i want online somewhere! its a total fucking shitshow wahoo

first is an alien nine fan comic (its read right to left if it wasnt obvious, oops). this was made as a for an alien nine discord i lurk in. they had missed yuris birthday, and some discussion was had about what present is best to get her. most of the options were aliens?? anyways take this as the anti-kasumi propaganda that it is.

next is two separate love web doodles. uh for anyone who doesnt know i have a half joke love web AU where cybermare and manon just fucking hate each other, and its just sad and awful for no good reason. im sorry shadok, i am physically unable to let blorbos be happy. second image is more of a doodle but i like it. and the first image i thiiiink was made when i was planning out a little one shot comic i never finished. for the 1 of you (oretal) who are maybe curious, i had a bunch of dialogue written out, the comic would have been a really tense conversion that culminates in a shouting match, i had this really cool idea where the comics color palette gets darker and darker as the sun goes down and their little apartment becomes so dark that its hard to see but neither of them want to bother turning on a light (many such cases). i care about these two way more than i probably should, uh thank you silly deer lady for the blorbos.

the next one is a drawing ruru chan (you saw the alien nine bit of this post, you know what kind of fucking blog this is) i keep forgetting i made forever ago. i ended up hating it and never finishing it. i still dont want to bother finishing it but i like it enough now to post it. shinsei kamattechan is one of my favorite bands and i really like this dumb melodramatic song a lot. noko is one of the realest ones going and i hope i can draw something i actually really like one of these days to express my love properly.

lastly i wanted to post this absolute dumb bullshit fuck ass stupid technique. i was commissioned by a friend to make some custom buckshot roulette cards (he is paying me in sandwiches), and i decided that i liked the idea enough to go whole hog at least a little bit. this is just showing the process for the rendering technique im using in krita. i will be posting the final images once theyre all done (my deadline is fucking thursday, pray for me girlie). this method of rendering is super janky but its fucking worked so far! to any aspiring item key artists, please just render shit in blender, save yourselves. looks kinda nice tho once its on a card.

thats it, please listen to "all my little words" by magnetic fields and "cant run away" by brave little abacus. GOODBYEEE ill post my drawmegle drawings next maybe?

[sonicasura]

I think the funniest crossover ever would be Pizza Tower and Devil May Cry. We got one anxious pizza joint owner, Peppino Spaghetti, who would pummel someone with his bare fists while going at Mach 4 like a maniac. Then there's the wahoo half devil pizza man, Dante Sparda, that hunts demons for a living and has major family drama.

Dante would be such a common visitor to this strange pizza joint for two reasons. One is the pizza is actually good. Two Peppino practically the most interesting person he has ever met. Dante is convinced that this man got demon heritage from seeing him beat the shit out of any demons who try wreck the joint.

Hell there is a gooey doppelganger he seen multiple times with an apparent appetite for demon meat, living pizza toppins who dance around and another chef that rides on a giant ass rat. Peppino meanwhile just glad Dante pays for his massive amount of food(thank Vergil whose tired of his little brother's tab lifestyle. He does the funds.) He still doesn't know how this guy with the big ass sword even found his shop.

I got even funnier yet wholesome crack thought in the form of Nero being adopted by Peppino. He magically disappears from the orphanage doors and instead pops up outside the diner. Peppino is fucking confused as he just finished closing up his new restaurant only to find a baby. (DMC and PT are separate worlds that can be accessed through particular areas.)

Cue instant panic since who the hell would leave a baby here?! He can't exactly leave the kid here as there is no place to take him anywhere. Thus the start of reluctant dad Peppino and Nero Ink Spaghetti with special guest uncle Gustavo!

It was definitely a struggle raising a baby alongside running a pizza joint but our anxious man manages to do it. Peppino is an absolute happy crier when it comes to Nero's big accomplishments. Especially making his first pizza by himself as he definitely teaches our quarter devil how to cook.

Although Peppino hates the Noise a lot more than him being a usual nuisance. He can handle the mean pranks when it's on him but his son? You can thank one notorious mishap with the Noise that awakened a 10 year old Nero's Devil Trigger.

The kid was absolutely a fucking wreck when it happen not because he have no clue on his heritage nor demons completely. It's how Peppino would react as the man who raised him like a son is a massive ball of PTSD from being a retired war veteran. The man definitely got spooked when his kid burst into flames.

Nero being able to change into some kind of devil wouldn't make Peppino reject him though. This was just another side that everyone would have to get used too but yeah. Peppino definitely hates the Noise with passion after this incident.

Nero's first adventure actually doesn't start in Devil May Cry 4 but instead Pizza Tower which takes place a year before it. Due to Pizzaface antics, father and son got separated for quite awhile. Taking on the various levels of each floor before finally reuniting at Fake Peppino's boss stage: Bruno's Pizza.

Nero stole a random sword on Floor 1 and a gun from Floor 2 as he doesn't has his official gear yet. (He steals that from SWORD while at Fortuna.) Pizza Tower could be considered a perfect playground to figure his own abilities than just Devil Trigger. That and final boss tag team as both were completely done with Pizzaface at that point.

Now things around the diner absolutely changed a bit afterwards. Fake Peppino, Peppy, moved in without warning although Nero wasn't that offput unlike his dad. He absolutely pulled the 'Clone = New Kid' card on Peppino as the Toppins were practically adopted too from how fond said man is with them. (Those little guys taunt whenever Peppino does too!)

Ending up on Fortuna can be considered a Hell Portal in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or it shows up inside Peppino's Diner which practically leads Peppino, Nero, Gustavo, Brick, and Pep to get dragged in devilish shenanigans. You can bet your ass everyone was so fucking befuddled by these newcomers.

Dante the most as he had a feeling who Nero is but not the strange man who piledrived a Balrog with sheer strength and speed. Did Peppino think the half devil is his son's relative? Absofuckinglutely. White hair, can go Devil Time(what he calls Devil Trigger) and the obviously cultish spiel about this 'Sons of Sparda' was enough.

He would've torn into Dante if the man didn't admit to being clueless. (Vergil nor his other halves are safe though. Even V is getting suplexed.) Peppino and Pep do rip Dante a new one when he decides to call Nero deadweight. You don't insult their son/older brother without an ass kicking.

Our Pizza Tower makeshift family get involved in Devil May Cry 5 when Nero didn't call them back for awhile. He had decided to work under Dante so he could get to understand his family heritage better. Nero still calls and visits when he can even bringing Kyrie along.

Peppino did cry upon finding out the two became a couple like the proud dad he is. Kyrie gets quite well with Pep and thinks the Toppins are adorable little fellows. Now I can't forget about Vergil.

You can bet your ass it was fucking awkward when he found out not only Nero is his son but considers this weirdass anxious man as his father. Peppino loathes Vergil to no end especially with the arm cutting to get Yamato. The older Sparda doesn't visit the diner for awhile since Pep would try to tear him apart since he's just as vengeful. Fake Peppino likes the taste of demon flesh btw.

It took some time before things could smooth over between both parties. Now if only Dante and Vergil behave than try to kill each other near his restaurant. Peppino's Diner practically has a two way portal between both worlds due to the Hell Portal in the restaurant incident. (It's in the basement behind a closed door.)

The Devil May Cry crew do visit frequently thanks to that. Mainly Dante since the pizza is not only good but cheaper too. If a demon tries to slip through than Peppino will beat the shit out of it. Also he probably got a Devil Arm shaped like a pizza cutter now that I think about it.

Then again, Peppino's Diner never be the same after a little baby with white hair showed up at the doors. What do you guys think? For now enjoy this little jam.

[ourple-octoling]

He’s here. At Wahoo World in his half assed Zombie costume. Vio will probably just be playing some games for the most part and eating snacks. 

(like this for a splatoween ball starter! it will vary in length.)

[comics-in-midgar]

Devil May Cry, but it also now doubles as a pizza delivery service when demons are demoning.

The pizza always arrives cold, has a bullet hole or two in it & is always missing a slice—no discounts.

[klugpuuo]

Amitie is trans(masc): an essay

sort of

i like amitie puyo puyo and i headcanon them as a trans guy. This is not at all a popular headcanon, so I feel like I have to justify it. Wahoo

I will refer to amitie by no pronouns or they/them exclusively as I do not wish to upset anyone who headcanons them as transfem or cis.

also please note although i do seriously headcanon ami as a dude 99% of this is a joke i don't actually think the moon and sun and clothes and shit should be gendered . thanks

The dumb

1.Something Puyo Puyo has built itself on since the Compile era is stereotypes. Gay. Lasses wore skirts (or pants and skirts) and lads usually just wore pants. Everyone wore armor because if you didn't you would be a total idiot. i mean seriously you would be so fucking stupid

This continued on until the late Sega era, because of course it did. In fact, aside from noncanon art and stuff like Puyo DA!, there's only been one character before Puyo Puyo Quest who was a lass and wore pants.

[ID: A png image of Amitie's shocked sprite from Puypop Fever]

THIS GUY

Out of ALL their classmates, out of EVERYONE until like quest (and INCLUDING puyoteto), AMITIE is the ONLY girl character to EVER canonically wear pants without ALSO wearing a skirt/a dress/another piece of clothing generally considered "feminine" for some reason that is beyond me.

if clothes have to be gendered then amitie has to be a boy. checkmate transphobes

2.You know how transphobes say all transmascs have terrible fashion as a way to belittle and discredit their ultimate swag?

yeah

The personal

3.The first time I ever heard abt Amitie I thought they were a guy because before I watched Little Witch Academia and became enlightened I associated the word "magician" with a guy with either a stupid little mustauche or a long ass beard

4.Amitie looks sick as hell w top surgery scars

1.When I was younger and still thought I was a girl I once called myself "a tomboy but like not super athletic so just a boy" and I can hear Amitie saying that so

2.Another thing I did was I would make my voice deeper and when others said they couldn't hear the difference I'd get so so sooo upset and Amitie having almost half of their alt. voices be a lot deeper than their normal voice reminded me of that

3.All in all I just really relate to Amitie. From everything from their anxieties over their friends to their tendency to get in way WAY over their head to trying desperately to go above and beyond for their friends. It's all stuff I can relate to, and as I am the type of mentally ill person who finds a character I relate to, latches onto them and gives them all my mental illnesses and genders along with the ones they already have. yea

4.also seeing them present themself as a guy gives me massive Euphoria

The desperately grasping at symbolic straws

1.Okay so you know how the moon is generally regarded as feminine and the sun is generally regarded as masculine in some cultures (which is fucking stupid they're a rock and a ball of gas respectively but)

And how Amitie's "Red Amitie" alternative form from the (arguably) canon Puyo Puyo!! 20th anniversary has tons of sun imagery to the point where everyone thought the deity Amitie was part of was of the sun?

But apparently there's far more proof that it was, at least originally, a deity of the moon?

And how most of Amitie's spells are more fire-related than moon-related?

What I'm trying to say is they are so transgender they just completely changed the type of god they were

(this point can also be used for the opposite in cultures where the sun is feminine and the moon is masculine. solidarity if you want .)

2.I was looking up names for fun and I found "Alden" which is a masculine name that means "old friend" and I keep nearly crying thinking abt them changing their name to that once they transition to a more masculine yes

thanks for reading. if youre transphobic on this post i wont even respond to you i am just ignoring you

if anything i said here was harmful or upsetting tell me and i'll edit it or just delete the post

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Two

how do you write Wei Ying? All talking. How do you write Lan Zhan? Run on sentences, of course.

have some exposition. everyone is a mess, wahoo.

Part One

---

Lan Zhan’s iron is broken. 

There’s no reason it should be—he keeps it clean and returns it to its original box after each use, and it’s barely three years old. But no matter what he does, it does not heat. He shouldn’t even need to iron his shirt in the morning, but deadline on deadline (and budget cuts on budget cuts) mean that he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in six days and hasn’t done laundry in a week. There are dishes piled up in the kitchen sink, so he’s started avoiding the kitchen entirely on his way to crash into bed so he doesn’t have to see it.

Things break, Lan Zhan accepts this. They wear out, come to accidents, disappoint you, die. But there’s no reason for this iron not to work. There have been no odd smells, the plug is fine—he’s tried three different outlets—and it’s barely three years old.

He stands in his closet in an undershirt and boxers, one hand pressed flat against the heating element, and allows himself a two minute breakdown.

There’s no reason for it. He’s done everything right, ticked every box. He started writing at age ten and hasn’t stopped since. He was top of his class at university, edited every school paper he had access to and founded two more, he got his masters. Even factoring in nepotism—which he doesn’t like to do, because it makes him feel like a cheat—he’s gone about as far as he can as a journalist. He’s won every major award, and with his uncle as managing editor he has more freedom than most in terms of how he writes and what he covers. He served the Republic, fought for two and half years and got a Sunshot medal for it. And yet, after ten years in his chosen field, everything is dying around him. No one pays for papers anymore, no one cares for the truth anymore. Political pundits on TV and radio have taken over the readership; citizens still traumatized by war just want someone to tell them what to think, tell them everything is fine now, tell them to ignore the injustices and messes and misfortunes that surround them. When he started at the Gusu Herald there were fifty people on staff—now they’re down to under twenty, including editors. All the small town papers in the area have closed, but there’s hardly the staff to even consider local stories these days. Lan Qiren tries to hold out as the last family-owned paper in the area, but corporations are circling. It’s like he spent his whole youth building a shining bridge across a canyon, only to find the other side barren and dead, miles of cold steel and no light on the horizon. 

He turns the iron and presses it against his chest, imagines it suddenly turning on, the satisfaction of the burn.

Then he unplugs the iron, puts it back in its box, and pulls on the wrinkled shirt. He pulls up the blackout curtains to let a little of the thin 7am light into the bedroom. There’s no reason to still have blackout curtains in Gusu, but he got used to it years ago and once he gets used to things he tends not to change them without reason. But he’s got plants now, gifts from his brother, and he’s trying to keep them alive. It shouldn’t be that difficult to do, he is conscientious and meticulous, but then his iron shouldn’t be broken either.

No one comments on his wrinkled appearance when he gets to work, which irks him. There is the familiar sound of phones ringing, printers going, file cabinets slamming open and closed in every direction. It’s calming to him, but he can’t help but notice how much quieter it is now than when he started. Part of it is the new computers—when he started here they were still on electric typewriters which were deafening. But mostly it just feels . . . empty.

Not completely empty, not yet. 

“Hey, hey Lan Zhan,” Lan Meiling waves him over to her desk, where a half dozen reporters are gathered around a computer printout. “Did you see this? Jin Zixun’s the new head of the Trade Commission. Just announced.”

Lan Zhan winces and looks over the report.

“But we’re not a monarchy, right guys?” Liu Dong snorts, shoving Meiling’s shoulder.

“It’s not a monarchy, it’s the other thing,” Wang Tengfei says, tapping his chin. “What’s the thing where it’s not passed down by birth, but you still appoint all your family members? That’s a thing isn’t it?”

“That’s just Jin Guangshan,” Liu Dong laughs. “But hush, hush, treason.”

“Come on, what’s the word for it?” Tengfei asks again.

Meiling takes the paper back from Lan Zhan. “Wasn’t he the one who paid for his grades in college? I get them confused.”

Lan Zhan nods. “That was Jin Zixun. Who’s got the story? There should be clippings. ‘92, I think, or ‘93.”

“Who covered that? Any of you?” Su She leans over the cubicle wall, knocking the photo of Meiling’s family onto her desk. There’s no reason for him to be here; he doesn’t cover politics. He’s had the local court beat for the past three years, and has spent those three years writing the exact same story five times a week with different names and charges plugged in. Lan Zhan is completely sure that he’d cover a person fined for unpaid parking tickets and a person arrested for smuggling baby unicorns with the exact same level of interest.

“Wei Ying wrote the story,” Lan Zhan says. The group falls silent, a troubled glance flying between all but him. “Before the merger, in the Gusu Times. Lan Shu can pull the clippings for you. It was a series, I believe.”

Lan Meiling coughs. “You can find a different reference, Liu Dong. Someone in Qinghe must have covered it.”

“It was a good series,” Lan Zhan says. He’s being needlessly stubborn, but that’s nothing new. “Wei Ying got the school registrar on the record.”

Liu Dong scratches the back of his shaved head. “Yeah, but. You know. I’ll call over to Qinghe.”

“It was a good series,” Lan Zhan says again. It’s awkward enough to break up the group, everyone shuffling back to their desks or the coffee maker. Lan Zhan has that uncomfortable feeling that he’s supposed to want to apologize for something. It’s a feeling he gets a lot, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to apologize—he has nothing to apologize for. Wei Ying was a good reporter; he wrote good stories. Everything that happened after that doesn’t change the fact that he was good at what he did.

Su She follows him over to his desk, so his day is about to keep getting worse. Lan Zhan prides himself on being rational, and he has many rational reasons for disliking Su She. He’s a half-assed writer, he wouldn’t know a decently placed comma if it was unveiled to him on a pedestal by the gods, he is a busybody and a gossip, and he lives to take credit for other people’s work. He’ll offer you the phone number of one of his “connections” and then whine about how he deserves a shared byline.

But on many levels beyond the rational, Lan Zhan hates the guy. He hates the way he pronounces words, his laugh, the smell of his lunch, even his handwriting. And he’s always there.

“You knew him, didn’t you, Lan Zhan?” Su She leans on his cubicle now, though there are no photographs to knock down.

Lan Zhan’s instinctual response is Don’t call me that, which is ridiculous because it’s his name. But he hates the way his name sounds in Su She’s mouth.

“What?” 

“Wei Ying. You knew him before the scandal, didn’t you?”

Lan Zhan takes an even breath. “Yes.”

“Did you work with him?”

“He was at the Times, before the merger. He never worked at the Herald.”

“But you knew him in school, right?”

If Lan Zhan wanted to be fair (he doesn’t), there’s no way for Su She to know that this line of questioning is particularly painful. He distracts himself from the sting of it by considering all of the answers he won’t be giving.

Yes. He gave me half a handjob in 1989 and I’ve thought of it every day since.

Yes. He called me his soulmate one day in the library at Gusu University and I’ve thought of it every day since.

Yes, I read the story that ruined his life before it was published, because he came to my home and asked me to read it and he was so proud, skinny and manic and over-caffeinated and burning, burning, burning, and I looked at him and I recognized the same thing that burns in me, the thing that keeps me coming back to this sad beige office every day, that makes me want to fight the inevitable like swinging swords at the sea, and I didn’t tell him not to publish. I told him it was a good story. It would not have stopped him, me telling him not to do it. But I could have tried. And I’ve thought of that every day since.

He just nods, instead.

“Is he still alive, do you think?” Su She asks casually.

The question stops Lan Zhan. “What?”

“No one’s heard from him since the war, have they? Could have died somewhere. Plenty still missing. I heard he went West, maybe, and the fighting was—”

“He is not dead.” Lan Zhan doesn’t know this for sure. But he would know, surely. Wouldn’t he? The thought honestly has not occurred to him in all these years, that Wei Ying might have died.

“Are you in touch?” Su She has a habit of asking questions like this, flipping from casual conversation to an interrogation. It makes him a terrible reporter.

“I served with his brother. He has not mentioned that Wei Ying has died. I have work to do, Su She.”

It bothers him, even after Su She leaves. He hasn’t seen Jiang Cheng in a few years, and they do not write or call each other. Jin Zixuan writes to them all about once a year, and he visits when he’s in Gusu, but he has always been the more sentimental one of the three of them, the survivors. But he thinks that Jiang Cheng would tell him if Wei Ying had died. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t. Jiang Cheng was not at school with them; he may not think of Lan Zhan as a person to notify in the event of his brother’s death. Would anyone think to let him know? It wouldn’t make the papers, probably, so how would he know? Wen Qing, perhaps. If she remembered. If she is also alive.

He feels it like an itch on his skin, something unsettled in his stomach, the idea that Wei Ying might not have survived. He would know, wouldn’t he? He’d feel it, the change in the fabric of the universe. Food would taste different, his voice would sound different. He’d feel it in the moments between sleeping and waking.

He makes a cup of tea and boots up his computer. They all have emails now, which is still a relatively new part of the morning ritual, but he doesn’t mind adding it as he checks his mail, his answering machine. He had a deadline yesterday and isn’t swamped this morning, so he takes down phone numbers and flips through his calendar on autopilot while he thinks about Wei Ying.

Wei Ying probably remembers him. He definitely remembers him, it would be ridiculous for him not to, but Lan Zhan doubts he remembers their college years the same way. 

(His fingers in Wei Ying’s hair, shoved against the wall in someone else’s dark bedroom, cheering and laughter from the drinking game just downstairs, cheap beer on his breath, everything spinning, spinning, his first time being drunk, his brain singing out kiss him, kiss him again, more, more, more, this is your chance, Wei Ying’s left hand on him, awkward and surprisingly tender, Wei Ying’s voice slurring in his ear “Lan Zhan I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so glad, I’m so glad I found you, Lan Zhan,” before the door bursts open and they spring apart, before Wei Ying ruffles his hair and says, “You probably won’t remember this, huh?” before they leave the party separately, before weeks of silence because what do you say to all of that, before Wei Ying and Wen Qing get together and Lan Zhan says, “I’m happy for you,” which is a lie, a lie, a lie, before Wei Ying and Wen Qing split up and Lan Zhan says, “I’m sorry to hear that,” which is a lie, a lie, a lie . . .)

He could do some digging. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to find him, and it’s not like Lan Zhan lacks resources. But every time the thought crosses his mind it feels like too much, too violating. If Wei Ying wanted to be found, he would not have disappeared. And if Wei Ying wanted Lan Zhan in his life, he knows where to find him. Lan Zhan is not the one who left.

That’s a bitter thought, and unfair.

The story of Wei Ying is not complicated, and it’s not secret, but it’s never told right. 

They’d met in college, when Wei Ying transferred to Gusu in junior year, in a psych class of all places. Lan Zhan had a double major, because psychology and journalism was a logical pairing, and Wei Ying was meant to take a broadcast concentration but had broken his wrist falling off a roof and couldn’t work any of the equipment. 

Lan Zhan hadn’t known what to do with him at first. Wei Ying had grabbed him for the first group project a week into the semester, declaring, “We’re kindred spirits, you know,” before writing his phone number left-handed on Lan Zhan’s arm. Lan Zhan did not know. They had barely spoken before this, but for the rest of the semester Wei Ying sat by him and they studied together and Lan Zhan pulled strings to get him onto the university paper. And Wei Ying had grinned at him one day in the library, sleep-deprived and rumpled, when Lan Zhan had finished his trailed-off sentence, and said “Ah, my soulmate.”

They were kindred spirits, Lan Zhan believed. Lan Zhan decided he wanted to be a reporter when he was ten and learned the truth about his parents. After an entire childhood of being lied to, he decided his calling in life would be to tell the truth, no matter what. It made him odd and prickly, and usually lonely, but gave him a reputation of fearlessness and ferocity that he would never regret.

Wei Ying was different. He wasn’t so invested in the truth from a moral or political perspective—he was cheerfully amoral back then, in a teenage kind of way—but he loved information and he loved being right. Puzzles and secrets attracted him, and Lan Zhan watched them open up for him like lotus flowers at every turn. 

Lan Zhan settled into their friendship in a way that was unexpected, he began to rely on Wei Ying’s opinion, began to think of things from his perspective when he found himself stuck. And then he’d gotten drunk at a midwinter party and kissed Wei Ying and ruined all of it. It wasn’t Wei Ying’s fault. Lan Zhan had panicked and run and then left for break and never given Wei Ying his home number, and then when he returned Wei Ying wasn’t single anymore. He’d gone to Yiling with Wen Qing and her brother and come back someone’s boyfriend. (Wen Qing! Older, beautiful, stern and razor-sharp, who Lan Zhan had hero-worshipped, the part-time advisor to the school paper who turned down more offers than either of them would see in their lifetimes. That Wen Qing!) And Lan Zhan didn’t know how to handle it so he just . . . let it go. They stayed in touch while Wei Ying moved back to Yunmeng for a while, then got a job at the Times after the war started, and Lan Zhan joined the Herald and went to grad school, always Wei Ying reaching out first. But even after they were both single again and living in the same city, they just stayed apart.

It would be easy—completely unfair, but easy—to blame Wen Qing for all of it. But all she’d done was the same thing Lan Zhan had. Loved Wei Ying, and failed to stop him. If anything, Wen Qing is better than he is—when Wei Ying fell, at least she fell with him.

The downfall was not complicated, and he should have seen it coming. When Wei Ying showed up at his door in the middle of the night with a crumpled print out of his story, Lan Zhan should have seen where it would lead.

It was 1994, three years into the war, and Lan Zhan was in training with the cultivator corps in Lanling. In retrospect, that’s likely how Wei Ying found him—Jiang Cheng was in his unit and must have given the address. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he didn’t stop Wei Ying. Everything was so unreal, the war, the devastation, the training, cultivation itself. Everything he’d known about life, the country, physics, what is possible and what is just a legend, all of it was thrown out into a whirling storm of adapt, adapt, adapt. It was chaos, and Lan Zhan became very good at chaos.

The story would have been a bombshell in any year—over a dozen former assistants, interns, and even one sitting representative accusing the Acting President of the Republic of misconduct and abuse. Rumors about Jin Guangshan were older than his political career, and illegitimate children were hardly rare in government, but Wei Ying had been the first to get multiple accusers on the record along with recordings and photos. Wen Qing, the youngest managing editor in the country and one of only two women, had agreed to run the story.

It was a good story. A really, really good story.

But there was a war on, and Acting President Jin was the only protection the country had against the usurper Wen Ruohan and his army of traitors. Not that Jin Guangshan ever left Carp Tower himself—that’s what the oldest son was for. 

The blowback was immediate—Wei Ying was forced to retract the entire story and resign, Wen Qing was fired and the Gusu Times lost every advertiser and investor on the books. It was only natural for Lan Qiren to buy it up for pocket change, the merger he’d been looking at for years. All of the women named in the story issued statements accusing Wei Ying of lying, of doctoring evidence, of hiring actors that looked like them to fill his false story with fake photos. All statements made after visits from high ranking military officers, of course. He’d heard rumors that Wen Qing’s brother had enlisted and they used him for leverage, which wouldn’t be surprising. He hadn’t expected Wen Qing to give up without a fight.

Wei Ying had written to him once, just after he disappeared, with no return address. 

It’s my fault, it said. Lan Zhan, it was all true, the story was true, but I’m still a liar. I told them I could protect them all, if they went on the record. I promised. I promised Wen Qing. And I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Lan Zhan, I never wanted to be a liar.

And in the end, it meant nothing. Few enough people were getting daily papers, much less actually reading them, and with the immediate retraction, reams and reams being taken off newsstands by military police, it was barely a drop in the storm that was raging. Outside of the newsrooms themselves, at least, where Wei Ying and Wen Qing were nailed up on the wall as a cautionary tale. Free press, up to a point. Sometimes Lan Zhan thinks about what would happen if the story broke today, the impact it could have. But after the retraction, you can’t go back. He can’t think about it too long or the rage overtakes him. Rage for Wei Ying, for Wen Qing, for every person in the article who was smothered and tossed out with nothing. The kind of rage that doesn’t fade, can’t be extinguished.

Lan Zhan shakes himself. Wei Ying is alive. Wen Qing is also alive, most likely. Su She is an idiot.

He only has one message on his answering machine.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, it’s your cousin Lan Liang. Listen, I’ve got something I want to talk to you about. I don’t know if it’s your thing, or if you choose what you cover or whatever, but there’s a kid gone missing here in Moling and some very weird stuff going on at the building sites. I don’t have all the details, but it’s my uncle’s daughter-in-law’s foster kid. Cops aren’t giving them much, so I said I’d call you. I don’t know if the kid went wandering and got hurt or got lost or what, but maybe someone from the Herald can cover it, get the public interest up. Maybe someone knows something. I don’t know. Probably a long shot, but I said I’d call, so there you go. You can reach me at—”

Lan Zhan takes down the number neatly in his calendar. He can call after the 10am meeting, maybe drive out to Moling in the afternoon. The rage is still there, banked and contained and ready to be useful.

Part Three

[corpsentry]

What is a series* you would recommend?

All the stuff I hear about seems super out of my alley. Like Game of Thrones. Or Supernatural. Or Dr. Who. Or whatever.

I guess what I'm asking more is actually what series* you wish more people knew about?

*honestly whatever form and kind of media comes to mind. Live action, animated, written...

I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THINGS I LIKE. THANK YOU FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY. i’m mainly an animated and textual storytelling kinda guy so i’ll mostly recommend stuff in those general regions HERE ARE A HANDFUL

anime-- shinsekai yori for a refreshing, non-western-ya-lit take on dystopian fiction and a sick soundtrack. mawaru penguindrum* for an equally dazzling soundtrack, existentialism, and absurd, haunting metaphors about child broilers alongside brilliant, charming characters. kyousogiga for bright, buoyant energy, a story centered on family relationships, interdimensional chaos, and a girl with a big fucking hammer. made in abyss* for the fantasy exploration genre taken to its logical extreme, absolutely stunning visuals, and a big ass hole in the earth that just keeps going

manga-- haru no noroi* for the most convoluted but vivid portrayal of the human condition i’ve seen in so few chapters (and a sick art style), ran and the gray world for magical realism that’ll whimsy the pants right off of you, beastars for nuanced portrayals of morality and incredible character development, the land of the lustruous for the most awful, brilliant, and terrifying main character development i’ve seen in my life (phos eclipses kaneki ken in both tg and tg:re in terms of physical and mental transformation), and the umibe no etranger/harukaze no etranger pair of stories which present not only the woes of teenage romance but also the early twenties, and then the late, and then the thirties, and also your dad has depression

novels/plays/other printed matter-- a little life* (hanya yanagihara) for the kind of character-driven narrative  most people only dream of telling and breathtaking, heartbreaking, fucking disastrous lines that punch you in the face and then stare at you for three hours. never let me go (kazuo ishiguro) for being what it is, which is incredibly fucking sad but also grounded, and whimsical, and resilient. rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead (tom stoppard), especially if you’ve seen hamlet, for the kind of meta shit that makes you go what the hell and then sets your desk on fire. when you reach me (rebecca stead) for giving you hope.

i realize you asked about series’ and compared to supernatural’s 499 season run these are all incredibly short, but on the bright side you can blast through most of them pretty fast and decide if you like them or hate them in record time. as a bonus, please allow me to recommend the writing of ao3 users twoif, batman, SORD, and gamblers. i have read kpop fic because of these people. i have read homestuck fic. i have read. they’re all very good at what they do. fucking incredible really. thanks again for the question dear anon, and have a wonderful day

series’ labeled with * contain some potentially upsetting content so you may want to look up content warnings before you take a look at them because i sure was caught off guard half the time wahoo

[khadij-al-kubra]

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 6)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Words: 5518

Author’s Note: *Shuffles in, hijab haphazardly wrapped, wearing a fleece hoodie over rumpled pajamas, carrying a mug that reads “I write, what’s your superpower” and wearing one slipper.* Hey folks. So um. Yeah. I know it’s been, well, a LONG while. Apologies. I have no excuse other than this last semester of grad school and my part time gig kicked my ass, stole most of my free time, and possibly my left shoe. But I haven’t forgotten this fic or all of you incredibly wonderful and patient readers. And trust me when I say that I have made the wait worth it. Plus I’m on break now and already plotting out the next chapter, and I know exactly how I plan to progress with it, right down to the number of chapters left. Can I get a wahoo? *Yawns and takes a long drink of strongly brewed black tea* Once again, thank you SO much for your patience and love, and enjoy the lovelorn chaos from our favorite gays. ^_^ (also, if for some reason the tag link isn’t working for you, please let me know)

AO3

<=PREV

Chapter 6 - (POV Patton)

The fire in your eyes

Like a grave digger’s lantern

Your passion revives…me

“Gosh dang it, one syllable too many,” Patton muttered to himself over the notepad.

He felt a staccato of taps on his arm; a signal for when the world was silenced by Patton’s big headphones and Roman wanted to talk to him. He took them off, giving his soulmate his full attention. That was still so nice to say and put an actual face to. My soulmate.

“Problem, dear heart?” Roman asked from the seat next to him. The new term of endearment made Patton blush, but he loved it.

“Nah, just tweaking a new haiku,” he said. “I want it to be perfect for my muse.”

Now Roman was the one blushing. “Well I’m sure when it’s done it will be as wonderful as everything else that’s made by your hands.”

It had been barely two days since he and Roman discovered they were each other’s soulmates (or at least one of them), but since then they had spent every spare moment getting to know each other. From walking to classes together to spending free periods together, and Patton’s mother had even insisted on inviting Roman over for dinner just last night. When Roman had complimented the pasta Patton helped cook, saying he could taste the love poured into each noodle, his heart felt near to bursting. It was such a short amount of time getting to know each other, yet Patton felt as though he’d known Roman for eons all throughout past lives.

Who knew being with your soulmate could make you feel so alight inside?  

“Thank you for sneaking me your Tupperware of leftovers, Patton,” said Roman, covertly twirling his plastic fork into the spaghetti under their table.

“No problem, kiddo,” said Patton.

Technically they weren’t allowed food in the library during study hall except for water. Unless you had a blood sugar problem or something. Still, Patton was willing to break a tiny rule if it was for his soulmate’s well being. And maybe myself, he thought, sneaking bites from the napkin cookies on his lap.What? He’d had an Algebra test that morning. He earned a treat or two.

“Mom’s right, I do need to pack fuller lunches. I don’t know what’s up with my appetite lately. Least I’ve still got my figure.

“Maybe it s a puberty thiiiiiohmygosh it’s him.”

“Him who?”

“Look, but don’t look, over your shoulder.”

Roman sneakily looked over his shoulder and saw what Patton meant. It was Logan Berry, in all his brilliant glory, pulling out a book from the chemistry section. He looked lovely as always in a cream colored blouse, mint green skirt, and cherry blossom patterned neckerchief. The yellow gems of his bumblebee hair clip glittered under the ceiling light as it kept the ebony bangs out of his eyes.

Yet there was something off about Logan today. His face was neutral as always, but Patton noticed there was something slightly somber in his posture.

“Isn’t that supposed to be the school genius or something?” Roman asked.

“Debate club president,” Patton said wistfully.

“I’ve heard about his through tech club. He is really pretty! In a nerdy way.”

“Yeah, he sure is a lovely creature of nature.” Patton said with a sigh.

They must have been whispering louder than he realized, because suddenly Logan’s head was turned, and he was looking curiously at Patton. Oohhh gosh golly. He half hid behind his copy of Wuthering Heights.

“Patton my dear, you sound positively smitten.” Roman said, turning back around. “Not that I blame you really.”

Patton chuckled, unable to stop staring at his crush. “Guilty. Have been for awhile.”

“Say, you don’t suppose Logan could be one of our mysterious shared soulmates, maybe the one from yesterday, do you?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think we have the same lunch time as—Ohhh Lemony Snickett, he’s coming this way!”

“What? Here? Now? Does my hair look good?”

Patton considered himself to be pretty good at reading people on an emotional level, but Logan was usually like a tightly bound journal, difficult to look into. Except this time it was clear he did not look too happy with them. Before he could gage deeper as to why, Logan was at their table. Patton had never been this close to Logan before, never had the chance to make real mutual eye contact.

Logan’s stoic gaze went back and forth between them. His brave little Prince was mumbling Disney lyrics under his breath and clearly trying so hard not to clam up. Guess it’s up to me. Patton grasped for some sort of ice-breaker good enough for Logan. Something friendly, intelligent and totally not off-putting like he normally was.

“Umm…cookie?” Patton asked, holding up his cookie napkin in peacemaker offering.

“I don’t appreciate being stared at and spoken about behind my back.” Logan said sharply, staring pointedly at him.

“So that’s a no on the cookie.” Patton said, shrinking back.

“If you have something to say, you can express your mockeries to my face, because frankly I am in no mood for ignoring judgmental comments today.”

Ouch! Logan had never come across as the friendliest person ever, but Patton was definitely not expecting him to speak so coldly upon their fist meeting. And it hurt. Or it would have more so if Patton couldn’t tell from the look in Logan’s eyes that he was actually upset about something more than just people whispering.

“H-hey, don’t talk to my soulmate like that!” Roman said, voice cracking. He was loud enough to be shushed from another table. Yet for once, Roman didn’t duck his head down in shyness. “I-in fact, you shouldn’t talk to anymore like that, or make such harsh assumptions yourself, Mister Sub-Astute-Teacher.”

Logan turned to Roman. “I beg your pardon?”

“We weren’t gossiping about you, or whatever it is you think we were doing. If anything we were complimenting you. I mean- well yeah-yes! We were. But that was before you came at us so rudely with your negative assumptions. Just because you’re the debate club president or whatever doesn’t give you the right to talk to people like that.”

Wow. Patton had never had someone stand up for him like that before. And he’d never seen Roman be so, well, unabashedly vocal, even when people were watching. I am so proud!

Logan looked taken aback, ashamed even. “I-I apologize.”

“Yeah, you should, Blaise Pastel. And another...thing?” Roman cut himself off suddenly.

Patton was about to ask Roman what was wrong when he felt the tell tale tingle on his arm. He pulled up his sleeve and sure enough, another new soulthought was there, tattooed in navy blue ink: ‘Hm. Brontë. Excellent taste.’

“Patton,” Romans said, tapping him excitedly. “Look!”

On Roman’s arm in the same navy blue read: ‘Interesting sweater choice.’ They beamed at each other. There was no doubt about it.

Then Logan coughed, and when they turned to look at him, he too was holding out his arm on display. Beneath two purple and sky blue soulmarks, the latter of which Patton recognized as his own, were letters in bright red: ‘Nerd—Pretty—Pretty nerd.’

“Well. It would appear that we have much to discuss. May I?” Logan asked, gesturing to an empty chair at their table.

Patton checked wordlessly with Roman if he was okay with it. The drama techie nodded. “Please.”

Logan pulled out the chair across from them and smoothed out his skirt as he sat. “So. It seems that we are all ineffably bonded to one another, judging from the matching color palettes in our soul thoughts. And you both are...”

“We’re together,” said Roman, reaching for Patton’s hand on the table and lacing their fingers. “We found each other just two days ago.”

Something flashes across Logan’s face, but it was gone before Patton could read more into it. “That is...quite fortuitous.”

“And we’d love for you to be apart of this too.” Patton said. “That is, if you’d be comfortable with that. We wouldn’t dare bind your heart to ours, regardless of being soulmates, if it wasn’t something you also wanted.”

“Or if you ended up being a jerk.”

“Roman!”

“Well he—

“It’s quite alright, um, Patton was it?” Logan asked. Patton nodded yes. “Roman is within his right to feel how he does. I did not exactly make the best first impression.”

“You can say that again.” Roman muttered.

“Now Roman, you and I didn’t exactly get off on the right foot either. In fact it left a lot to be desired.” Pattona said.

“But he—

“Deserves just as much a chance as we did. He is our soulmate after all. Alright?”

“Yes, dear.”

A low chuckle from Logan caught them both off guard. The beautiful brainy boy was covering his mouth demurely. The sight of Logan, who’d always been so sharp and alabaster cold, so softened by just his laughter alone was breathtaking. It set moths fluttering about in Patton’s tummy.

“What’s so funny?” Roman asked, brows furrowed.

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his Warby Parkers. Hey, we have the same glasses!

“Apologizes, I am not laughing at you,” Logan said. “It is merely that, well, for a moment there your bickering reminded me of my mothers. Which is quite remarkable given how, as you’ve said, you two have only known each other for two days.”

“Aw gee, it’s sweet of you to say that we remind you of your moms, Logan.” Patton said.

To think he and Roman already sounded like an old married couple. Sure it was all fast and new to him still, but he couldn’t help delighting at it. Would he get to share this same sort of bond with Logan? With his fourth unknown soulmate? He sure hoped so.

Still, he was so different from Roman. Even though Patton had been crushing on Logan fort ages, he seemed to have a much thicker wall. Could Patton ever be good enough to be invited in?

“So I take it from your reaction that you are not among the school’s percentage of ignoramuses that take offense to LGBT folk, such as myself and my mothers?” Logan asked.

“Pshh, puh-lease! I’m about as straight as this spaghetti,” said Roman, holding up a limp noodle hanging off his fork.

“You do know food is prohibited in the library.”

“And my brother Remus is a regular Ace of spades.” Roman continued, ignoring Logan. “Not that you’d ever guess it, with all the crude jokes he makes on his podcast.”

“Brother?” Patton and Logan asked.

“Trust me, the less you know about that internet troll the better.”

“As for me, said Patton, “well, just fry an egg on my head and call me pan.”

Roman nearly choked on his bite of food, cough laughing. Patton offered his bottle of water to him. Logan tilted his head to the side.

“Fry an—what? That isn’t—pan?” If there was a lightbulb over Logan’s head, it would have just clicked. “Oh good lord, was a that a pun comparing pansexuality to cookware?”

“Heh, guilty,” said Patton. “I’ve got ‘em by the dozens.”

Roman seemed to like Patton’s jokes, but Logan not so much. Patton had been trying real hard to make his jokes less dry and dark. Did Logan just not like puns, or did he not like him? Patton so wanted Logan to like him.

“Tawdry wordplay aside, I’m please to find that at least some of my soulmates are not ashamed to be themselves, unlike...”

Patton turns to Logan concerned, but he merely opened his book to a random page and pretended to read it. He was clearly holding something back, but Patton didn’t want to push him into talking. He already felt like on thin ice.

“Unlike who?” Roman asked. “Does it have to do with your soulmate?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” said Logan, not looking up.

Roman rolled his eyes. “The one with the purple writing. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Patton and I both have thought tattoos in the same color, and if you know who are third soulmate is, then don’t you think we have a right to know who they are as well?”

Logan closed the book. He looked at them for a moment, then sighed. “That is more than fair. Alright. It’s...”

He leaned in close to them, and in a low voice whispered a name that Patton was surprised to hear.

“VIRGIL!?” Roman shouted. Logan palmed his forehead.

A neighboring table shushed them and at least two students milling about the stacks gave them odd looks. Patton tugged his hat down and Roman slunk down bashfully. Baby steps, Roman. Baby steps. They probably would’ve gotten more than odd looks if not for Logan giving the more nosy students a steely glare.

“Would you kindly think before you open your infinitesimally loud mouth next time?” Logan asked.

He knows that word actually means really small, right? Patton thought.

“Well excuse me for being shocked that the Stormcloud of South Bay High is our mysterious soulmate.” Roman said, using his backstage voice. “I mean, look at us and look at him.”

“I have,” Logan said.

“And you’re still in one piece? After being alone with an unnerving ruffian like him?”

“FALSEHOOD!”

The sudden outburst startled Patton nearly out of his skin, and Roman actually fell out of his seat, spaghetti almost flying. The school librarian shushed Logan pointedly, and he apologized to her profusely, being luck enough to to get off with just a warning as her model library goer.

“He is not like that.”  Logan said. “Yes, he is among the athletic clique but he is by no means a brute. He is intelligent and sweet and...gentle.”

“It’s true Roman,” said Patton. “I haven’t talked to him much myself, but I sit behind him in English Lit., and he’s never been mean to anyone in class.”

Patton pictured the anxious kiddo in his mind. How fidgety he got, the way his back tensed when being called on even if he knew the answer, and especially the lost lonely look in his eyes.

“Actually, when he’s not huddled in with his buddies, Virgil’s even more awkward than you can be.”

“Augh!” Roman gasped offendedly. “Patton, you wound my pride. Wait, was that a compliment or?”

“Does that mean you’ve talked with Virgil then?” Patton asked Logan.

“Indeed. We officially met—coincidentally—on Wednesday, realized we are soulmates, and spent Study Hall yesterday getting to know one another. It was quite...enjoyable.”

Then something happened that Patton would’ve gone so far as to call a little miracle: he saw Logan smiling. It was small but softened his angular face oh so nicely. Seeing Logan’s smile was like watching a sunrise. If Patton hadn’t been in puppy love with Logan before he definitely was now.

Then the overcast came, and stone faced Logan was back. “That is until some of his neanderthal brethren in lettermen’s happened upon us, and Virgil revealed the coward he truly is; ashamed of himself and ashamed of me.”

The three of them went quiet, their snacks and studies long forgotten. The library clock ticked away, turning pages crinkled like autumn leaves, and somewhere somebody was not so sneakily smoking a joint. Of course his brave little Prince would be the first to break the silence.

“Sooo I take it that Virgil is deeper in the closet than Narnia,” said Roman.

“Precisely. And I refuse to belittle my self-worth by wasting my time on anyone who does not have the courage to be themselves, let alone be associated with me simply because I am not of the same socially constructed  high school status. I told him as much before leaving with my dignity intact.”

Patton tried to process this new information. It hurt his heart to hear the bitterness in Logan’s words, especially when he was so obviously trying to hide how hurt he really was. Yet even so...

“I understand where you’re coming from Logan, and I’m sorry that happened to you. But,” Patton bit his bottom lip, “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on Virgil?”

Logan raise a sharp eyebrow at him. “In what way am I being harsh?”

“Because, well, it’s not really your place to say when or how ‘out’ somebody should be. Even if he is your—our—soulmate.” Patton sat up straighter, blowing the curly bangs out of his eyes. “I mean, you probably came to this school already out of the closet, right? You’re used to to knowing how to handle yourself and others when they might talk bad about you. So it’s probably easier to feel like you’ve got the Pride high ground.”

“I...suppose I hadn’t considered it in that light.” said Logan. “Astute.”

“Yeah, top notch analysis there, Patton-cake,” said Roman.

“And yeah, we’ve got a modest little LGBT club and a small portion of the school has not so nice views of queer people,” Patton continued. “Which makes sense, I mean, this isn’t exactly New York. But you’ve gotta understand that Virgil is smack dab in the middle of that crowd. He probably feels like it might not be as safe for him to be out as it would be for someone like you; the debate club champ and smartest kid in school who’s also in good standing with the teachers. ...Or someone like me; the creepy emo kid that everyone treats like a ghost or is too scared of to bother with anyways.”

Lonely as it was, being invisible did have its advantages. Patton felt Roman wrap a deceptively strong arm around him, nothing but tenderness in his eyes. Well, not so invisible anymore. Patton smiled and leaned his head on Roman’s broad shoulder.

“Honestly, I see Patton’s point. Sure, I get teased by those guys all the time for being perceived as gay—not that they’re wrong—but people have picked on me for plenty of other reasons over the years.”

Roman paused for moment, using one hand to wipe his large glasses on his swirly patterned sweater vest.

“Look at me. I’m a scrawny, shy, Disney obsessed theater nerd, and not even one of the leading actor elites. I knew going in that I was bound for the bottom of the social food chain no matter what I did, so I figured, why not at least allow myself to be my full rainbow self, albeit quietly? Sure, I haven’t officially come out yet, but it’s not like I’d have much more to lose when I do. But Virgil? He has everything to lose.”

Logan sat back in his chair, mulling over their imput. Pattons was worried that he might have offended Logan somehow. He wasn’t storming away from their table, so that was a good sign. Maybe Patton should apologize anyways.

BRIIIING

Study hall was officially at an end. Students packed up their bags, and returned or checked out books. Meanwhile the librarian ushered any stragglers out so she could prepare the space for any Friday electives that would be taking place there.

“I have to get to class,” said Logan, gathering his things. “It was good meeting you both. You’ve given me much to think about. Perhaps we might converse again sometime?”

“No problem Specs. Where are you off to next?” Roman asked, closing up the Tupperware and hanging it back to Patton.

“Um, U.S. History,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses.

“With Mr. Terrence? Me too.” Roman grabbed his classic Mickey backpack. “Maybe we can, um, walk over there together? I mean, since we’re headed the same direction.”

“I have no objections with that.”

“Onward then. Farewell, Patton dear.”

“Bye Roman. Uh, Logan, I—“

Before Patton could say anything more, his two soulmates were on their way out. With a sigh he grabbed his writing journal, book, and backpack before heading out himself in the opposite direction for his last two classes of the day. He had English Lit with Miss Valerie next. And Virgil, he thought, pulling his headphones over his ears. It was high time he and Virgil spoke for real.

* * * * *

Patton watched the clock on the wall tick tock away the last few minutes of class He gripped his stretched sleeve end into a black and grey paw with one hand, and doodled furiously in his notebook margins with the other. Did I overstep my boundaries? Patton wondered for the hundredth time since the middle of class. In front of him, Virgil nervously bounced his knee and kept chewing on his cuticles, sending a twinge of guilt through Patton’s chest.

Halfway through class while Miss Valerie was writing out notes on the board, he had carefully tossed a folded note onto Virgil’s desk. Luckily he’d always been more of a thrower than a catcher. The anxious athlete saw the slip of paper, unfolded its contents, and went rigid. He’d cast a quick wide eyed glance over his shoulder at Patton before turning back to the front. Virgil hadn’t looked at him again since.

BRIIIING

“Alright class, that’s it for today. Don’t forget, your essays about the symbolic significance of the Moores in Brontë‘s novel are due next week,” said Miss Valerie.

While the rest of the class rushed to leave, he and Virgil lingered behind, packing their backpacks slower till the coast was clear. They stood up at the same time, Patton clutching his journal to his chest, and Virgil hunched awkwardly.

“Hey, is there some place we can’t talk? Privately?” Vigil asked, his voice gravelly.

“Mhm. Just uh, follow me.” Patton said.

They walked out the classroom and through the crowded hallways, Patton in the lead and Virgil following a foot behind. Murmurings of between bells chatter and tinny locker taps filled his ears. Two hallways later, Patton pulled Virgil round a courier and into the Nurses Office.

Flickering fluorescent ceiling lights cast shadows around the off-white walls. The only decorations were an anatomy poster, a poster of a cute bat dressed in a nurse’s cap, and the skeleton onesie clad teddy bear Nurse Talyn kept for students in emotional distress. Patton called him Mr Fluffybones. There were chairs, a sickbed, and a filing cabinet next to the supply closet. The office always smelled of rubbing alcohol, but it was clean, quiet, and most of all private. Talyn was a colleague of Emile’s so they let him stay in here on his bad days for as long as he needed to.

“Patton, it’s ten minutes till classtime.” Nurse Talyn said from their desk, their horn-rimmed glasses sliding down their nose. “Do you have a pass for another breather? Or is there something your friend needs help with?”

“No, nothing like that Talyn,” Patton said, smiling at the word ‘friend.’ “Virgil and I just needed someplace private to talk for a bit.”

“You know I’m not supposed to let students be in here unless they’re feeling unwell.”

“Pleeeese? We’ll head right to class afterwards. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Then, Patton unleashed his most secret of secret weapons, used for emergencies only and rarer than a red moon: the puppy Pat pout. When Talyn saw his pouty bottom lip and big eyes, their mouth went lemon tight. They only resisted for a few seconds before an audible groan told Patton he’d one this round.

“Ugh, fine! You get five minutes while I go restock my bandaid jar.” Talyn took a not even half empty jar with them as they went to the supply closet. “I blame Emile for teaching you that puppy dog pout. It should be illegal.”

“Thanks Nurse Talyn!” Works every time.

Patton turned around to where Virgil stood behind him, hands in the oversized letterman jacket and a crooked smirk on his face. If Patton didn’t know better, he would think Virgil looked almost impressed.

“We can talk privately now, don’t worry.” Patton said.

“Worry’s my middle name but, okay. So uh, about this.”

Virgil took a deep breath and pulled from one pocket a crumpled note. He unfurled is, words facing up: ‘I know you’re my soulmate. We all do. Can we talk?’

Standing in front of him now, seeing the dark bags under his wide eyes, Patton thought that Virgil looked so small and vulnerable. All shelled up in his too big jacked, clutching that paper between his shaking skinny fingers. He just wanted to hold the poor thing close and protect him from every nasty thing in this world. Instead he settled for smiling as warmly as possible, hoping to help Virgil feel more at ease.

“Just tell me first,” Virgil’s hands fidgeted. “By ‘we’ you mean my other soulmates and not, y’know, the whole school? I hope? Not that I think you’d out me or anything; you’re not like that. Not that I’d assume what you’re like, I jus—

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kiddo.” Patton said, making his voice gentle. “I do mean our soulmates, and of course your secret is still safe with us.”

Upon hearing this though, Virgil’s whole body relaxed. “Heh, you really do say ‘kiddo.’ So how’d you find out?”

“Logan ran into Roman and me in the library earlier. We got to chatting and figured out the four of us are all soulmates.”

Virgil gave a low whistle. “I knew you guys were my soulmates but geez. All four of us? Fate must have a weird sense of humor.”

“Our gossamer spider-silk threads of fate are interwoven into one intricate home for our four hearts to feast upon entangled love.”

Patton mentally winced. Way to get weird and dark again Patton. Wait, he’s...smiling. Oh gosh, I really have a thing for nice smiles, don’t I?

“Wow Pat, that was...really lovely. And just the right amount of creepy. I dig it.”

Lovely? Me? Patton smiled, his freckled cheeks feeling warm all of a sudden. I knew you would be kind.

“I meant what I thought, by the way,” said Virgil. “You really do have gorgeous eyes.”

“And you really need to stop calling yourself an idiot,” said Patton.

Virgil chuckled, then looked down at his purple sneakers. “Did um...did Logan tell you about what happened?”

Patton rubbed his arm. “Yeah, he did.”

“So then you probably hate me, right? Argh, stupid question. Of course you do. Or at least Logan does. He probably thinks I’m just another stupid jerk athlete. Roman too. Not that I blame him after the number of times I’ve just stood by like an idiot and—

“I will physically fight you if you keep talking bad about yourself, Mister!”

The sharp outburst startled Virgil into shutting up. Patton didn’t often use his papa bear voice (as him mom called it) outside of the house or with anyone besides his younger cousin Elliot. But he couldn’t stand hearing Virgil talk that way about himself for another second. There was only room for one self deprecating soulmate in their group, and that was him.

“Logan doesn’t hate you Virgil. None of us do.” Patton said. “He’s upset still, sure, but never hate. And I told him that what he said to you was probably a little too harsh.”

Virgil’s head shot up. “You did?”

“Mhm. Of course his feelings were valid, but that couldn’t have been an easy situation for you either. Being in the closet is a pretty scary time, and the anxiety probably doesn’t help with it either.”

“H-how did you?”

“My godfather’s a therapist. Got pretty good at picking up on the signs from talking with him. Besides, you’re not the only one with a monster living between their ears.”

Patton rolled up his left sleeve, showing the tally marks of all the times he’d managed to come back out of the darkness and stand in the sunlight again. Virgil gave a quiet gasp, but Patton refused to turn away in shame from his soulmate, even if he did look at him with pity. When he met Virgil’s eyes however, they were filled with understanding.

In a bittersweet sort of way, it made Patton feel happy.

“I’m not saying you have to come out for us. Or go public, or do anything you’re not ready for yet. I just want you to know that we’re here for you when you are ready. And,” Patton held out his hand in offering, “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

He expected Virgil to take his handshake, maybe say thanks and offer to talk outside of school sometime. Maybe.

He did not expect Virgil to take his wrist in a gentle calloused grasp, turn his arm upward, bend down, and place a soft kiss on his scars.

It was sudden. It was impulsive. It was an act of pure reverence that set Patton’s pulse point thrumming faster than a hummingbirds heartbeat.

And judging from the look on his face, it shocked the hell out of Virgil just as much. He snatched his hand back as though his touch might burn Patton.

“I’m sorry! That was—I should’ve asked—-out of line. I—NGK!”

“Virgil, wait!”

Too late. Just as someone else was coming in, Virgil was running out the door, nearly knocking the other person over.

“WOah! Where’s the fire babe?” they asked.

Virgil paid him no mind. Didn’t even seem to hear him. Once again, Patton’s soulmate was gone before he could even try to make things right.

“Guess he’s got the runs or something. Ngh-ow. Forget it. Head hurts too much to care right now.”

The student who’d just come in was also wearing a letterman jacket, and their fingers hovered over a mean looking bruise near their temple. It took a second for Patton to recognize from the sunglasses who he was.

“You’re one of Virgil’s friends, Remy, right?” Patton asked.

Remy jumped, not realizing Patton was there. “His best friend, thank you very much. And who wants to knoOOHhhh I see. You’re one of his secret soulmates he won’t tell me about!”

Patton followed Remy’s eye line leading to his still uncovered arm. He quickly pulled his sleeve back down, blushing scarlet hot and hid behind his bangs. Remy chuckled.

“You know I gotta say, not at all what I pictured, but you are a cute little black kitten,” Remy said with a grin.

“Do you know where Virgil might’ve run off to? I want to go after him, but I need to get to class soon. Oh, it was all going so well, but maybe he thought he crossed a line and I’d be upset, but I’m not! He looked just short of a panic attack and I just...is he going to be okay?” Patton could’ve cried he was so worried.

Remy gave him a long unreadable once over, then sighed. “Look, if I know Virgil—and I do—then he’s either gone to the gym to blow off some steam, or holed himself up somewhere private where he can calm down. He doesn’t like people seeing his anxiety get the better of him if he can help it. Say it makes people uncomfortable.”

“Mental health isn’t anything to be embarrassed by, or of.”

Patton must have passed some sort of test, because Remy finally gave him a genuine smile of approval and lifted his sunglasses atop his head.

“Totes babe. Look, right now I gotta see a nurse about this goose egg hatching on my head, but I’ll try to look for him after. Kay? Ow!”

Patton signed. “Thank you Remy.”

“You still here, Patton?” Nurse Talyn called, coming out from the supply closet with an armload of bandaid boxes, a bad of cotton swabs, and a now full jar. “The second bell is about to ring. You need to get—“

They looked around the room, spotted Remy, and dropped their arms. Their face fell flat, along with the rest of the things they’d been carrying. Good thing that jar was plastic.

“Remy Dormier, did you fall asleep and hit your head in the hallway again?” Nurse Talyn asked, looking just about done with everything.

“Nope. Track field. Bottom bleacher,” said Remy, wincing and he touched the spot.

“That is the FOURTH time this week! That’s it.” They pulled out a crushable ice pack from their desk drawer and handed it to Remy. “You, on the bed while I call your parents. We have GOT to get a script from your Doctor for this obvious narcolepsy problem of yours. Patton, get to class. Go on, shoo!”

Not wanting to endure the tiny wrath of Talyn in full nurse mode, Patton left. Not before getting a wink from Remy that did little to lift his spirits. He speed walked to his last class of the day, but home economics was the last thing on his mind. He could still feel the kiss from before like a memory on his skin.

I hope he’ll be okay.

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[theonceoverthinker]

The Search for the Spot

Summary: There are some things Clover won’t tell Qrow, things Qrow realizes he’ll have to find for himself. Now, if only Clover wasn’t so good at hiding those things.

AO3

(Don’t worry -- you’re all still getting one of the HCs tonight, too!, but my writing mojo is BACK mofos!!!! WAHOO!!!!)

As her prize in my 300 HC giveaway, @collectingsparechangemadeeasy requested a sequel to my fic “Say Uncle.” I’m not gonna spoil it here, but it was a pretty...unique piece of mine (That I actually made on my birthday!), and I’m so happy to do a follow up to it! You don’t need to read the original fic for this story, though you might enjoy the continuity. Thank you for the request and for your patience while I got my writing mojo back, @collectingsparechangemadeeasy! Enjoy!

()()()()()()()()

Qrow knows desperation and what it means to fight the seemingly impossible off to the bitter, bitter end far better than most anyone else alive these days.

He knows what it’s like to cling to hope, even when it’s at its faintest, to grit his teeth at a world determined to bring him down, or to not have hope, but fight anyways just because it’s the right thing to do.

It’s painful, thankless, requires determination, and involves eternally balancing on the edge of sanity as hope dangles possibilities in front of him like a hunk of cheese at the center of a mousetrap.

Qrow’s seen it all before, lived it all before, and survived it all before.

He understands that the lessons that kind of existence teaches don’t abandon you, even after peace begins to blossom in your life in the same way it does with an elegant flower.

Giving up is never the answer, no matter how exhausted and out of your wits you are. 

It’s especially not an option when your husband stares at you with that same infuriating smirk of his that he’s always had, reveling in your failure as he says the one word you wish more than anything for him not to say.

“Nope.”

The word is simple, yet merciless -- dumbfounding, and mocking through its sheer existence.

Never before has Qrow Branwen hated a word so much as he decides in this moment he hates this four-lettered abomination.

Qrow looks up from his spot on the floor and meets Clover’s eyes. He hopes to find falsehood in them, any kind of betrayal of his words in their sea green shine, a stray crinkle in the nearby skin, the tiniest bit of dilation to suggest a truth different than what he just stated.

There’s nothing of the sort to be found.

More than anything, he wants to throw a pillow at his head just for that.

Even still, he can’t quite loosen his grip on Clover’s foot just yet.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he grunts instead.

“Does it look like I’m kidding you?” Clover retorts.

To be fair, with that damned smirk on his face, he almost does.

But even as he seethes on the truth, Qrow knows better than to doubt it, not after he’s met and confirmed the words and his husband’s face for himself. 

“I’m going to find it,” Qrow promises. There’s the slightest temptation to smile, but he commends his sense of petulance for dominating it and perfectly maintaining his frown.

“I’m sure you will,” Clover humors, his smirk now a jovial smile, albeit, not the one Qrow was hoping to see as a result of his endeavors. He’d make it a reality one day. “Eventually. Just not today.”

Qrow shoots his husband a grouchy look. 

How does he manage to argue with his unvoiced thoughts like that, and make it seem like he didn’t do that at all?

What kind of superhuman mind reader is he involved with?

“Hey,” Clover continues, taking Qrow away from those thoughts just as quickly as he pushed him into them. “While you’re down there, feel like giving me a foot rub?”

Qrow attempts to push Clover’s foot out of his hands -- a silent, yet firm answer to his inquiry -- but Clover applies just enough pressure to the limb to weigh it down so he can’t. 

“Please?” Clover begs, now making a face littered with puppy dog eyes.

Really, how over-the-top can he get?

Well, Qrow reminds himself, it is Clover. Over-the-top is to him like peanut butter is to jelly.

“Not a chance.”

Once more, Qrow tries to get Clover’s foot away from him, but Clover ensures that it stays right where it is.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Clover offers, flexing his toes, “if you make it worth my while, that is.” There’s then a relaxation of tension in Clover’s foot. This is the last time he’ll ask -- and the last time this offer will be on the table for Gods’ knows how long.

The manipulative ass.

Why did he marry him again?

Something about love and understanding?

Beats him right about now.

Qrow glares at the foot. His pride half shouts at him to reject the offer out of hand -- literally. He’ll find out what he needs to know on his own. It might take him some time, but hey -- they’ve got a lifetime together for Qrow to work with.

However, Clover’s good at hiding things when he wants to, and he’s clearly really wanted to hide this. Qrow’s checked all the usual spots. That only leaves the abundance of unusual spots to explore.

He’s been good at hiding this for so long…

Maybe a little hint would be just what he needs to finally get his answer.

Qrow’s thumb begins kneading the ball of Clover’s big toe and without even looking at Clover’s face, he can feel the smile on his husband’s face for his triumph. 

Gods, this is humiliating...

The foot’s sibling slides down to just beside Qrow’s right knee seconds after he starts rubbing it.

“One at a time,” Qrow groans.

Clover smiles and lays back in their armchair, his hands behind his head.

“No problem with that,” he says, “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“So what’s my hint?”

Qrow’s hands haven’t been stretched this much in a while. He’d relax them against his pants, but he has a feeling he’d better wait to wash them first.

Clover’s feet aren’t what he’d call stinky necessarily, but he wouldn’t eat off them anytime soon.

Speaking of, Clover’s feet, now on the ground, flex, his toes jumping up and down like waves on the seashore just to show off how good they feel. 

“You certainly did a good job,” Clover praises. 

“And I don’t need to tell you that a good job deserves a good reward,” Qrow points out, smirking, ready to put together whatever it is Clover tells him and find what he’s spent weeks looking for.

“Okay,” Clover teases. He leans into Qrow’s ear and begins whispering. “Here’s your tip: It’s somewhere you like to touch a lot.”

Qrow’s mouth falls open. 

He cannot be serious.

That can’t be it.

It just can’t be.

However, as Qrow sees Clover pop away from him just as quickly as he came near him, it becomes quite clear that that’s all Clover’s giving him.

“No,” Qrow protests, in the bluntest matter-of-fact tone he can muster. “I reject this hint, and demand a better one.”

Clover smirks. “And why’s that?”

As if Clover doesn’t already know.

Qrow can tell right away exactly what his husband wants to hear: That he enjoys touching every part of him, so the hint is no clue.

Well, no. He’s not getting that kind of ego trip, not when he pulls a stunt like this.

“You know damn well why, Clover.” They’ve both noticed how the tone of Qrow’s voice has raised significantly since he last spoke.

Clover -- still smiling, still always smiling -- presses his lips together. 

“I have n-no idea what you mean,” he says, obviously attempting and failing to create an innocent aire about him.

There are a lot of innocent things about Clover. 

This isn’t one of them.

It’s so clear how much Cover just wants to give up the facade of a pretense he’s holding up and start roaring with laughter as he stands there looking like a shaken soda bottle waiting to be opened.

And if Qrow’s being honest with himself, it’s probably pretty clear that Qrow wants to hear that very same laughter. He just wanted it to be delivered to him in a very different context than it will be now.

Well, if Clover’s about to have some fun at his expense, then he may as well get a bit of retribution for it.

In one quick, fluid notion, Qrow grabs a throw pillow from the couch beside him and flings it right into Clover’s chest.

Immediately, Clover groans, his chest folding in half from the pillow as he tries to diminish the pain.

Clover’s grunt has Qrow laughing, and much to his petulance but a moment later, it seems to have had the same effect on Clover himself.

“I thought this was a tickle fight,” Clover wheezes through his laughter, still semi-keeled over from his feathery wound, “not a pillow fight.”

Qrow smirks. “All’s fair in love and tickling, especially when you give me that kind of clue after I just rubbed your feet.”

“Speaking of fair,” Clover retorts, “in all fairness, you were the one who trapped me and started tickling my feet, so convinced that you got the right spot this time. Sorry I’m not as easy to tickle as you, but really, this is all your doing.”

That cheeky bastard.

Qrow, half shouting, pushes his feet-smelling hands into Clover’s face. 

“This is what I had to deal with for a half hour!”

Clover laughs, trying to push him away.

“Gross! Cut it out!”

Qrow, now laughing too, keeps at it. 

“Give me a better hint!”

Qrow keeps pushing Clover backwards. It only occurs to Qrow that they might have gone a bit too far back when he feels the front of their armchair knock against his shins.

Clover, clearly trying to stabilize himself, loops his arm around Qrow’s waist. However, Qrow’s mid-fall by the point that he does, and onto the armchair they go...and as their momentum hits the armchair with the force of a bullet train, their trip takes an extra, far more bumpy stop.

Limbs find themselves tangled and incoherent sounds fly into the open air as the two of them, plus their chair, hit the floor. The landing thuds throughout their home and spreads dust from the chair’s bottom flying across the space behind them. Qrow’s hand moves to massage his chin, and Clover arches his back to relieve it of the armchair’s tension.

They look at each other. Qrow feels the chaos they caused in so little time spark all around them. He can tell Clover feels the same.

Then...they laugh. They laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more.

Qrow feels Clover’s hands on his back and the stench of Clover’s feet on Qrow’s hands transfer to Clover’s shirt as they hug, practically giggling all the while as they embrace.

Minutes pass in this state before they help each other up and get to work setting their living room back to normal. Qrow straightens out the carpet  and slaughters some dust bunnies with the help of a nearby tissue box and wastebasket while Clover resets the throw pillows and the armchair.

When it’s finally done, they turn to each other again.

“I’m going to find it,” Qrow says, repeating his promise from earlier, but now grinning from ear to ear. Clover looks at him like he’s the world’s most enticing mystery novel. Once upon a time, that would’ve been enough to blush until his cheeks were more like tomatoes than human skin, but now, any discoloration like that comes from moments just like these -- laughter, annoyance, chaos, love, and everything in between.

“I know you will,” Clover says, shoulders rising and falling in the same way a balloon floats in a child’s hand. “But I’m gonna make it fun for myself until you do.”

Really, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Clover and Qrow approach each other, hands gently taking hold of arms once they’re close enough to do so. 

“Well, go for it,” Qrow says, leaning his head forward until it makes contact with his husband’s shit, hanging just above his heart. “Want to know why?”

Clover rests his head on Qrow’s shoulder. Qrow can feel his smile touch Qrow’s on their cheeks.

“Enlighten me,” Clover says, a chuckle bubbling underneath him.

Qrow’s never been the greatest with words, but in this moment, he knows exactly what to say.

“Because when it comes to you, giving up’s never going to be an option.”

[sharkangelic]

This one’s just important character growth points, in chronological order! 1. Character Introduction This is the first time we meet Sesshoumaru, and very early on! This first moment scene up his character immediately - ruthless, powerful, merciless, and completely lacking compassion. It is the foundation for how he will act for the rest of the series. 2. Fight With Inuyasha His first battle with Inuyasha. This is important for so many reasons - it really rams home what makes this character unique. Thus far, all of the villains have been after the Shikon Jewel. But Sesshoumaru expresses 0 interest in it, and is there for other reasons. He knows Inuyasha personally, and it gives insight into Inuyasha’s character and background as well. Moreover, it does a lot to showcase Sesshoumaru’s overall power - it sets up that among the many demons the characters face throughout the series, Sesshoumaru is undoubtedly the most powerful one. 3. Attempts to Take Tetsusaiga and Meeting Rin After the first fight with Inuyasha(that Sesshoumaru loses, mostly because of his own arrogance), he is permanently maimed, having lost his left arm. He spends much of the series obsessing over stealing Tetsusaiga, the demon sword, from Inuyasha. It is in this episode, in which he meets Rin, that he finally gives up after many failed attempts. He is defeated in combat and severely wounded, whereupon he meets the little orphan girl who will change his life - he becomes her primary caregiver in his first display of compassion ever. It is a major turning point in his character arc. It is this episode that we are introduced to Tenseiga, the demon sword that Sesshoumaru has had this entire time but for some reason never used in battle. The reason? It can’t kill. This sword is unique in that it saves lives, and is unable to do harm. 4. Toukijin Toukijin is the massively evil sword that Sesshoumaru commissions upon giving up on taking Tetsusaiga from Inuyasha. It is an incredibly powerful weapon that possesses everyone who picks it up(including its swordsmith) - and Sesshoumaru subdues it immediately upon touching it. It’s still an extension of his obsession with Tetsusaiga, though - he may have given up on acquiring the sword, but he doesn’t stop being resentful of it for a long time. Toukijin was forged from the fangs of an ogre that bit Tetsusaiga in half. 5. Kagura Big time jump, I know. Tenseiga remains important this entire time. Its powers have been slowly revealed up to this point. Kagura is the second person Sesshoumaru shows any compassion towards, and in this episode she finally kicks the bucket. Sesshoumaru is shown mourning her, in his own silent straight-faced way. In this same episode, Toukijin breaks. This is the catalyst for the next series of events - the spark of rage and sorrow that Sesshoumaru felt for Kagura was felt by Tenseiga, and Tenseiga(a semi-sentient object) alerted its swordsmith to Sesshoumaru’s change of heart. Thus Totosai(the swordsmith) approached Sesshoumaru to reforge Tenseiga into a weapon. Sesshoumaru vows to use the new Tenseiga to avenge Kagura. 6. Compassion Sesshoumaru is exceedingly arrogant and prideful. This has not changed. With Tenseiga’s new killing abilities and its still intact healing abilities, he feels he is pretty much unstoppable. This bites him in the ass when Rin is killed, and he finds he is unable to resurrect her - Tenseiga can, previously unbeknownst to him, only resurrect a person once. And Rin had already ben revived by the sword once before. In this episode Sesshoumaru learns that he must treat the lives around him as precious, be compassionate, and realize that he is not indestructible. 7. Shishinki Fuck. Shishinki was an enemy of Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha’s father. He attacks Sesshoumaru in an act of vengeance and reveals that Tenseiga is merely a cast-off piece of Tetsusaiga! This pisses Sesshoumaru off, and is part of the plotline that eventually leads to Sesshoumaru completely relinquishing his obsession with Tetsusaiga(while retaining great resentment for his father) and Tenseiga being returned to its previous state as a tool for healing, not a weapon. 8. Magatsuhi Magatsuhi is the physical manifestation of the evil will of the Shikon Jewel, ie he is extremely powerful and evil. His power proves to rival Sesshoumaru’s, and Sesshoumaru is now weaponless without Tenseiga’s offensive capabilities. He struggles in the fight with Magatsuhi, and almost dies. But! He prevails, and gets a new arm and sword! His new sword, Bakusaiga, is incredibly powerful. He also learns in this episode that Magatsuhi has one(1) weakness - Tenseiga. Tenseiga can kill beings “not of this world.” Magatsuhi doesn’t have a physical body - he’s a spirit. Sesshoumaru is the only one who is capable of stopping Magatsuhi. He is finally freed from all the dumb Tetsusaiga bullshit. 9. Inuyasha Sesshoumaru is now shown to care for and have compassion for his brother. Having hated Inuyasha his entire life, Sesshoumaru now has to fight him again - without wanting to. Inuyasha is being possessed by Magatsuhi, who attacks Sesshoumaru. Sesshoumaru, who could have easily killed Inuyasha to get to Magatsuhi, instead chooses to fight Inuyasha with Tenseiga - a weapon that is incapable of harming Inuyasha. This makes it infinitely more difficult for Sesshoumaru to kill Magatsuhi, who he really hates for their first encounter. He goes through the trouble to not instakill his brother and do everything he can to kill Magatsuhi without hurting Inuyasha, endangering his own life in the process. 10. Victory Sesshoumaru finally kills Magatsuhi, ending his pain-in-the-ass sword arc and removing the last major hurdle to killing the Big Bad, Naraku. All this time, Sesshoumaru has hated Naraku intensely for constantly bothering him and trying to kill Rin. Naraku is on everyone’s shitlist I s2g. Anyway, Kagome - Inuyasha’s gf - is the only one capable of destroying the Shikon Jewel, which Naraku now possess. Magatsuhi was sealing Kagome’s power. With Magatsuhi dead, Kagome can now fight again. She is integral for killing Naraku. Sesshoumaru moves on to engage in the final battle with Naraku. And he is defeated! Wahoo!

[manjuhitorie]

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Muro Festival, is a rock festival! Which invites newcomers, upcoming artists, veteran come-on-ers, and all hard song enthusiasts alike to celebrate. Named after Muro Kiyoto, who is the manager of a Shibuya concert venue. As an avid enforcer of music events he’s esteemed by many in the scene, so the event draws in people who are driven by the fuel of that pass. At least bands will comment “Muro fest is an adhesive (Arukara)” or “The number one trait of Murofes is that the performing bands have awesome strong connections even on the side, and that the essence of that friendship engulfs it (Wasure).“ or “Even if Murofest was hosted at a small park or a in the middle of the street or in Muro’s house or even in a public toilet, I would perform. I love Murofest (Mizuno Gii).” 

Anyway the performances are full of power! Full of summer heat! Full of maudlinism to soar like Muninn! Full of a favorite: there’s Hitorie’s dead pan heartfelt bassist, ygarshy! 

And you were able to watch it on a niconico livestream but...

 IT’S ENDED NOW

 I will preserve this post as a report.... Doubling as a source for various trivia....  I’m considering maybe if a fan makes a purchase of a Wasureranneyo album, or something of similar sentiment, and DM’s me a screenshot, I could share the recording... Even if you see this in a billion lightyears from now. Because sharing is caring, all around yeah!!!

You have to get niconico premium to watch it, which is only 540 yen. Nothing compared to the fest’s ticket fee of 10,000 yen (Plus airfare fee for us overseers). You can use foreign debit cards, or even Paypal… ! Much of the performances were locked up, only for Premium members originally even for those who were able to watch real-time, so there’s no regrets in seizing the now. Thumbs up. Live shows enhance a whole different essence, so more than listening to a J-rock playlist on Spotify I’d recommend taking a dive into this while you can!!

Not only can you upfront witness the air around their electric pickguards warp to their technique, you can see them hop and whomp and throwmp around! What chords they clench with their teeth, what lines they unleash from the pit of their lungs, what parts the band will huddle together for and what songs mean the world to them! Also the crowds reactions, I move when I see them move, in polysemy. If there’s any niche J-rock band names you’ve maybe been curious about, or just want to find some new indie J-rock, the artist line-up is here! LAMP ON TERREN: wowawawa’s best buddy ‘Dai-chan’ is in there… *Waves hand* TERREN were once scheduled for a joint live with perfect timing, so they brought a birthday cake for wowaka and they got friendly with Rie... or so they thought.. The next day SND was ready to beat the shit out of them on stage. But they’re all friendly now (I think)))) Arukara: They master the standard rock setup with wads of distortion, wah effects, while sometimes make instrumental songs with violin etc. even! They do podcasts! And they reinforce cats a lot. I recommend Chigirero.  majiko: Village Man’s Store: Who are the band with bright red suits, bright firey songs, and bright red lips who kissed Shinoda that one time - In seriousness I could recommend them though, they’re sweet with only a little taste of the sleazy!  KAKASHI are rejoiced by quite a few Hitorie fans I know. There’s CIVILIAN: A three-piece whom all graduated from the Tokyo School of Music Shibuya, the bonds roam, who also hosts Nanou HoehoeP, another past utaite like majiko. LEGO BIG MORL: Sukippara ni Sake: Who are swanky with Kachāshī-like dances to the stretches of never making a boring song. And so so many more! J-rock band names start to make more less sense the more I’m in here! Wahoo! A band named Hitorie performed two years ago, and there’s LEGO BIG MORL this year, which is hoisted up by the same manager as Hitorie, Mika Arara! The members separately will some participate in cooking shows(), some each do acoustic shows on their own accord, each ego-search, and their stoic songs together are bound to at least make your foot tap from their flavored textures. For this sake I’m eyeing up the band’s particularly memorable whiz named Hiroki Tanaka. Hiroki is not most notable for his #My ygarshy hashtag, but for the sake of this he is. Under the tag is either Hiroki posting a picture of him together with ygarshy or him commenting #My ygarshy on pictures ygarshy of himself with others. Or the “What? Are you a couple?” on ygarshy’s “It’s our 9th year anniversary” photo of him with SND… yg “Sorry.” In general ygarshy and Hiroki are friendly, they drink and vent together time to time.Also Hiroki and Shibata Takahiro, the character who comes in soon, have a unit called Takahiroki. Which is the two of them fused to make flurry, with only an acoustic guitar and a mic as their weapons even!  Their concerts tend to break the norms of the non-flamboyant J-rock scene, as they screw around with their power with no real point, just a joint to a jollity! Where as many J-rock shows will use screens of music visualizers to engross, Takahiroki will use the crowd by galvanizing them raise their signature rainbow towels or make explosive call-outs towards the flames of reality. Where many will use subdued dance to party, Takahiroki will chit-chat about food and females as they swing their limbs like spinning amusement park rides or dress as bartenders and drink . Though all rock shows are have their unique tricks and spirit, it’s nice to see it super shaken up also… I introduce these two for good reason! It’s background for what’s feautured in the niconico livestream! The band Wasureranneyo! That Shibata is on vocals and guitar, that Hiroki is on main guitar, our ygarshy is on bass, and Takayuki Tomita is on drums! Tomita is from a band called THE LOVE NINGEN, whom I’m not sure how came into relation with Shibata, but Wasurerannee yo is constantly borrowing members to fill it’s blanks due to . ygarshy has been consistent for more than half a year now! Hiroki also bounces in whenever he can an ex. Wasurerannee yo member once filled in for Love Ningen. They themselves most likely meet at festivals like this! Where similar bands get together under a sonic medium and spend the crepuscle ball. But I’m going back to ygarshy! Him! His performance is a spotlight!

the important part     THE SHOW    highlights 

Wasureraneeyo start at 1:27:28, end at 1:58:39. You can manually copy-paste, and it’s a whole 30 minutes action-packed. There's about 48 hours before a the single watch instance will expire, but it's possible to close the window and come back anytime between then.

The first 5+ minutes are rehearsal, they’re muted to give the live-goers an extra extra incentive. It’s still worth a peak to see how musicians will stroll as they test. They played their theme song and also a cover of Alexandros’ Wataridori there’s nothing worth hearing anyway right (*wails).

The rest is 100% worth the buck!  ●Shibata starts off by whimpering over an urge he needs to burst out, he needs everybody to cheer him on. When he Says “Miyamoto - Ryou!”, you have to shout “You can do it!” Note: Miyamoto and Ryou are a comedian duo, who just days ago were revealed to the victims of a corrupted corporation, who was holding absolute control over them. People have cheering for them to win better circumstances in the case. Yet the apologies and the press conferences have been fantasy football battles.... Ugh... It's a riot for sure though! Official news reports are here or here or etc. ●He gets everyone to wiggle their arms 90° angles above their heads “like we’ve gone crazy!” and shout a nonsensical “Yossoi hoi hoi!” chant! With the heat as the beat! yga just plays bass! ●He makes noise for his mom, multiple times throughout! His T-shirt even has his mom on it! Specifically a picture of 2 year old himself being embraced by his mother printed on it, with the word “Mother” metallically written on the back… Source from his past diary entry of him expressing his maternal love. I can’t believe this ygarshy no wonder you can’t help but smile a lot during these shows. ●He complains about the shitty time he “went out drinking when he two cute girls walked through the door in, ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ he thought, only for them to start chit-chatting about how small their boyfriend’s dicks are! What kind of damnation is this bullshit!” ●The lyrics are about that stuff anyway!! ●There’s also a special appearance from Kanata Takehiro, the vocalist of LEGO BIG MORL. Shibata bitches at him mid-solo because “Fuck you! All the girls are staring at you now damn it!” *He is actually popular in the band due to being good and cooking and math and being an overall goofball behind the gallantries. The original of Odore Hikikomori features Hiroki and Sekihan, of Happy Head NANIYORI also he was in the niconico scene a long time ago, both dressed in clothes that you may find very unlikely but 100% plausible. ●ygarshy smiles and then recalibrates his hair over his eyes to look like a dark souls boss faceless again. He holds his bass with the neck upwards, he’s reviving his high school orchestra club bass playing sensibility. Virtuoso. The high tempo of Wasureraneeyo’s songs is definitely on par with Hitorie’s, Rie's irregular metres, swapping, interchanging and 456 metres are monstrous, but the sheer volume of tutti and strumming in Wasure’s punk songs seems to be something else as well…! yganbare!! ●Also don’t worry about those missed minutes because Shibata crowd-surfs again. This time with cash in his hand a mission! Saying “I’m glad to be here! Take me to the cute beer darling!”, as he is driven by the hands of the compliantly ecstatic crowd towards a staff member waiting in the middle of the crowd, holding up your average beer! Shibata trades the cash for the cup, he orders everyone to gather under him, “I can’t stand up if you’re pushing my ass! Oh now I can thank you”, and at last he gains the support to stand up! On top of a crowd for God's sake he rises. To glug the beer like a food chain top predator of the wild. Then to slide back to stage while crying for his mom again.

●Hiroki physically shoves ygarshy around while they have the stage to themselves. Ahh how the tables turn, the kicker to the pushee. ●In his black robes ygarshy is just such a trance to witness play throughout… It’s really great in motion and as a whole I love dirty rock concerts. Music has to be heard, my lumberous lumpy text can’t convey those sound waves… So give it a watch if you may have free time to do so! Only if you can please!  Source for comments and some info: https://skream.jp/feature/2019/06/muro_festival_2019.php  More photos and videos can be found on their official twitter! Photos by Suzuki Kouhei woah...

[ofsalamanders-blog]

is that - ̗̀(TOM HOLLAND)  ̖́- ? no, it’s just - ̗̀(FELIX WILSON) ̖́ - – FELIX  is best described as [INTELLIGENT] i’ve heard (HE/THEY) are a 21 year old - ̗̀(HIKE LEADER & WILDLIFE SPECIALIST) ̖́- which explains (why THEY’RE) so [AFFABLE AND HUMOROUS], but i also heard [HE DROPPED OUT OF COLLEGE WITHOUT TELLING HIS PARENTS] (peaches, 17, mst, she/her)

hello my loves! I’m peaches (the p stands for “pain in the ass”), but you can call be peach too! as stated a few times before, I’m 17 and am in the mst timezone. I’m super duper excited to tell ya’ll a bit about my poor frog son, felix. yeah, you may know the tom holland frog meme and it wasn’t entirely intentional.

anywho, here’s a big about my salamander boi:

as a kid at the camp, felix was the science and nature nerd. he was always the kiddo squatting in the bushes to try to find frogs, salamanders, beetles, and the like. he probably even had a jar of bugs under his bunk too! who knows. he was also super intelligent and was for sure the kid who would raise their hand and answer everything and bug the living shit out of his camp counselor with questions. I imagine most of the kids would have found him annoying or oddly cool. he was pretty shy back in the day, but he has confidence now! 

now felix is the hike leader and wildlife specialist at camp! he still loves to find some slimy boys in the woods and teach kids to love such slimy boys! here’s footage of one of his hikes! 

but, here’s the tea. his parents didn’t want him to grow up to go into a field with wildlife and nature preservation. instead, they wanted their poor son to be a lawyer. felix got halfway through his junior year of law school before dropping out. he didn’t even tell his parents! nobody knows tbh.

while he had that half year free, felix had a #zoinks moment and came to realize his gender and more about himself! wicked. he identifies as agender but hasn’t told most people. he uses he/him & they/them pronouns.

felix is still super smart, funny, friendly, and kind. he’s probably too good and innocent for the world, but it’s alright. around people he doesn’t know that well, he can often come off as awkward or incredibly dumb, but that’s alright too! once you get to know him, he’s an absolute gem and will probably be one of the funniest and weirdest people you’ll know.

BUT... felix also he can become quite stressed and snippy because of the whole college situation. while he obviously knows where his stress come from, he can’t help it sometimes and can be quite angry around people. it’s all good though! he’ll bring them a frog to apologize.

his handles on most social media is @salamanderboy420

I made a pinterest board for him here!

some odds and ends:

felix is bisexual and he realized this when he was a youngling at camp! wahoo!! i already have a wanted connection up for this, but if you want to fill that plot feel free to shoot me a message!

more connections could include people he knew at college (I have yet to decide which college, so that leaves room open) to make the rumor even more juicy!

I’d love to plot with every single one of you, so feel free to send me an IM on tumblr or on discord!

here’s his stats page! 

again, please watch this video. it resonates with me as something felix would do on a spiritual level.

[majorluz]

and now for a post nobody asked for

reviewing the weird ass beverages i've had the displeasure of ingesting

1. regular ass mtn dew

its not horrible but it tastes like what you expected glowstick juice to taste like when you were 5 and didnt know glowsticks glow because of cemicalce. i feel like when i crack my knuckles my blood is going to glow through my skin.

2. mtn dew voltage

its supposed to be CITRUS flavor idk about that but it sure tastes like BLUE. it tastes like what you expected windex to taste like when u were 3. i feel like i would taste this if i stuck my head in a mall fountain. this is going to give you a taste for engine coolant. i love it i drink it all the time

3. mtn dew code red

that's mtn dew and cherry all right. i didnt finish this one i drank half of it and gave the other half to my brother whose blood is gamer drink

4. mtn dew livewire

FUCK yea babey..... that's ORANGE!!! FUCKin.... oRANGE SoDA!! FUCK YEA!! WAHOO!!

5. mtn dew vooDEW

i think if i keep doing this to myself i'll pass away

6. mtn dew merry mash-up

mtn dew saw "wanna sprite cranberry" and said "WE CAN ALSO CREATE A MEMEABLE HOLIDAY DRINK" and then added cranberry to mtn dew and it was not as good as sprite cranberry. "wanna mtn dew merry mash-up" does not roll off the tongue but rather falls over and farts

7. sprite cranberry

i like it only because my brother threw things at me after i would not stop saying "wanna sprite cranberry?" after every sip

8. crush sour patch kids blue raspberry

i drank one of these and couldnt taste for a few hours because it evaporated my taste buds with ite acidity. i think the secret ingredient is cobra venom

9. mtn dew major melon

the most recent one. watermelon flavored things are my favorite so this was a pleasant surprise. insert war crime joke here

10. monster ultra watermelon

tastes exactly like a watermelon jolly rancher. i've hoarded every single can of this at the store and have instructed my coworkers to let NOBODY buy them but me. only i am allowed to enjoy ultra wawamelon.

11. red bull red edition

another watermelon energy drink. this one tastes like a watermelon warhead candy without the sour stuff on it. its not bad at all but it's a little pricier for a little can rather than a big can of monster ultra watermelon so i only tried this one once. i give it an eeeeehhhhhhhh/10

12. crush watermelon

THIS is the best out of all the carbonated watermelon drinks,,, its just pure unadulterated watermelon soda,, and its only a dollar???? *buys 12 at once and drinks themall in one day* ABBLHGFFGSFLCOOGHH MY KIDNEYS ARE BURNING

in conclusion....... i drink a lot of soda because the sugar makes my brain happy