#sparkstretch

[uhm0hi]

I found a new rarepair today, behold Shapesmith x Powerplex

Their just silly tbh

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

Silly Sparkstretch doodle

I was watching a video abt SNL movies and I saw this clip from Wayne's World 2 and I knew what I had to do. Consider this an April Fool's present I guess lol

Also I decided to draw them casual because,,idk really I was just going to draw Scott casual for some odd inkling and then I decided to do the same for Shapesmith considering it's been a while since we've seen him out of the suit so ye :3

Scene in question this is based on:

(Timestamp: 1:11 if it doesn't work)

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

I know who you pretend I am

16+, swearing & slight references to previous sex but none in here, angst, no happy ending

2.6k words, insp by @/shapeplex's drawing & Rebecca Sugar's drawing of Sadie n Amythest

Summary:

Shapesmith has been 'hanging out' with Scott regularly after the incident but after talking to Kate, he knows something needs to change.

Shapesmith opened the door to Scott’s apartment with a small sigh. He knew what he was doing might ruin everything he had with him. However, after talking with Kate, he realized something needed to change.

Scott was sitting on the couch with masked excitement for when Shapesmith would come, as they met up almost every other day. He looked over at Shapesmith and…

…huh. His eyes widened a bit before waiting a few moments as Shapesmith stood at the doorway awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “So…are you going to…?” He asked softly, twisting his wrist in a circle.

Shapesmith should have figured he couldn’t just show up here and expect him to know everything that was happening in his head. Though, that would make things a hell of a lot easier. He walked over and sat down beside him. He tried to think of something to say, but he couldn’t. Mostly because the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t have much of an explanation or excuse for the way he was feeling.

Scott straightened his back, his hand scratching his neck. The more he looked at Shapesmith…well, not looking at him, the more he started to catch on that something was wrong. “Look…w-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. I should thank you for just putting up with me for this long.” He said with a giggle before clearing his throat once more.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, even as Scott still didn’t have a clue what was going on. Shapesmith slowly moved his gaze up from the floor, to his hands, and finally his face. His eyes stared into his, scanning for any clue of what he was thinking. Though, he didn’t really know if he wanted to know now.

He gulped, trying to start off light. “...you…you really miss her, huh?”

…what an odd question. I mean, he did, obviously, but they hadn’t talked much about her since…well the incident. God, he was so pathetic that night, crying and wailing like a baby. He jumped a bit but still responded calmly. “Yeah…yeah I do. She was great…” He put his hand on his knee, his hand cupping his cheek as he thought about her.

“Yeah…” He responded, more disappointed than what he had meant to sound like. “I wish I got to meet her before…” He looked down at his hands. He felt filthy enough as is, but just…acknowledging her existence and reveling in her memory…it makes him nearly fall into a pit of total despair, and why wouldn't it? He had never met Becky, and Scott never once talked about her around Shapesmith and yet…

Scott put a hand on his shoulder, looking down. “Yeah. You would've liked her.”

Shapesmith looked at him, really looked at him. He had his eyebrows upturned and despite his slight smile, there was a deep sorrow in his eyes by how he was holding back crying, just barely. That's not surprising given it was only 5 months ago. Still…seeing him so much pain, genuine pain, made his own guilt that much worse. 

During their time together, doing this masquerade, Shapesmith had unknowingly convinced himself that the real reason he was with him was because maybe he was questioning if he was gay or bisexual, or that he hated his wife or that she was awful and he just wanted to rewrite history with him transforming. Much in the same way that people use age regression to cope with their childhoods. To see that he actually cared and loved for her as much as he loves Scott feels…humiliating. He knew he was a Martian and all, but even he should have known the reality of their escapades.

Even with that, though, it felt wrong to be so hurt, since he was mourning his wife. His eyes widened for a moment, like a deer in the headlights whilst he slowly grasped Scott's hand, moved it away from his shoulder and let it go, though his fingers lingered for a moment more. 

This…this is when the alarm bells went off in Scott's head. It should have gone off the second he didn't transform, or brought up his wife, but now they were really going off. But maybe, maybe he just needed a break and he wanted to make sure Scott was doing alright with the loss before continuing, so he didn't shapeshift to show how genuine he was being. But with this, what…happened? Shapesmith was always receptive to his affection, no matter how small. This was unlike him.

“Shapesmith…are you, are you feeling alright?” His hand instinctively went out to comfort him, but he quickly retracted it with a pang of hurt in his heart. “Again, we don't have to do anything tonight…”

“I-I don't want to do it…at all anymore.”  He said softly but quickly, trying to get it out before his body rejected to express what concerns were of his brain. Unfortunately, his heart had a tune of its own, and it was immediately horrified he had uttered that. But his heart was no match for his head, for once.

… “What?” His eyes in surprise. “What…what's going on? Why are you deciding this so suddenly?” He gulped hard as he had a despicable thought. “Did you ever feel forced to…?”

“What? No, no!” He immediately cleared up without even thinking. He put his arms out in front of him, waving them side to side to emphasize how much he meant it. But then he paused. His hands returned to his side before one of them crept up along him and rested behind his neck. “Well…kind of.” He said, barely above a whisper.

Shit. “What...what are you saying?” He loved all their time together but he never wanted it to be something he felt like he was forced to do, like that was his duty as a hero to help a dangerous “villain”-more like vigilante-stay sane by any means necessary. He sat straight up, ready to hear the worst.

“...” He moved his hand, rubbing his arm. God he couldn't stop moving, even if it was his fingertips going along his arm. “Not...not the activity but…the transforming itself.”

Scott let out a big sigh of relief. “Thank God.” Those two words gave Shapesmith more hope than it should. There was a peaceful…enough atmosphere as Shapesmith got most of what he wanted to say out of his system, even if his heart was aching. That was until Scott realized something. “Wait…you're going to…stop transforming into her?” He asked, his voice wavering like that was Earth shattering. His world, at least.

“Yes, Scott. It's wrong…”

His expression was hollow, his eyes losing their shine and his smile dropping. What? What was even wrong with their arrangement? There wasn't a thing wrong, he thought they had agreed to do this together, and that he understood the implications of what that meant. He wasn't about to argue with that though, as annoying as he viewed that to be.

What he would argue, however, would be far closer to what goes against his values. “You're a hypocrite. You say it's ‘wrong’ to transform into her-” He pointed a finger at him. “-but you're always playing the part of somebody else. How is what we've been doing any different than what you do everyday?” His voice was raised and an anger was present in his aura that he usually only unleashed onto…other superheros.

He…didn't have much of a response to that. If he was being honest, that's what his greatest fear and doubts were about talking about this. Maybe it was his anger, but he started to feel something bubbling in him as well. Who the hell was he to talk about morals when he was the one who asked Shapesmith to transform in the first place, despite wanting the “truth” about everything else.

“Well…” Shapesmith started, he didn't want to start a serious argument because he wanted to be with Scott…just not as his wife. “That is true…to an extent. When I'm transformed into Rus, most people I encounter…don't know who he is. When I transform into your wife, you know her. You can directly compare me to her.”

God what a non-argument. Just because he's transformed into somebody that most people outside of the GDA don't know about him doesn't mean that it's right to be him. People knowing who you're transformed into or not shouldn't factor into whether or not you shapeshift into them. I mean if we're going with that, you could argue that it shouldn't matter what you do to civilians, because most people don't know them. 

“And that makes it okay? If he was a celebrity would it be different? And…and you know that's not what I'm doing here. I just…want to see my wife again, is that so wrong?”

“No, but…” He felt awful enough for stealing his identity, especially given how the real Rus was invaded by Sequids. “I'm not…pretending to be him. I don't go by Rus and I don't try to go by Rus, and nobody believes I am him because of how I act. With you…you expect me to be your wife.”

“What? No I don't. I know…who you are.” He coughed awkwardly, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He was living a picture perfect life with a perfect wife and perfect child. Then Invincible destroyed that and instead of picking up the pieces, he, purposefully or not, deteriorated himself.

Shapesmith really, really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He liked Scott as a friend and a crush. He still wanted to view him charitably. However, he knew if he didn't bring this up now, things would never change. If nothing else, at least his fears would be proven wrong, maybe Scott would have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. He just…needed to hear it. “Then why do you call me Becky? Why do you bring up ‘our’ kid? Why do you expect me to remember memories that I never lived?”

“Look, just because I mistake you for her sometimes doesn't mean anything.”

“Then…” He put his elbows on his knees with his hands cupping his cheeks, looking at him. “Why do you want me to transform into her so badly if you know it's me? Why can I never just…be myself around you?”

He gritted his teeth. “But this isn't you! You're flopping around in Rus's skin like it's your own. You can't keep acting like this, like this is your form or that I'm a tyrannical king putting all these restrictions on you, ok! I ask you to be my wife because I miss her, God!”

Shapesmith's throat went dry, a little taken aback by not only his voice becoming even louder, filling up every spot of silence in the room, but also by his response. His frustration for not being understood for what he's trying to say was starting to take its toll on him. He could feel an unfamiliar rage start to build itself in him.

Still, what he said next was said calmly, but the deep rage in him was evident with his teeth gritting and him rolling his eyes. “Does missing your wife make you only calling me when you want to play house right?” He covered his mouth with his hands. Oh god, what was he becoming?

Scott's mouth opened slightly.  What did he think was going on here? That he was trapped in a cage? Forced to perform like a circus attraction? He had as much of a choice in this matter as he did. His eyes narrowed as he stood up in one sweeping motion with a loud boom as his shoes hit the floor. “You can get the FUCK out of here!” He yelled, pointing over to where the door was.  

“Scott-Scott please listen to me! I want to stop being your little dolly you kiss every night!” Shapesmith stood up to join him, both of his hands balled up into fists, slamming down into a nonexistent table. “I want to stop being a replacement for something you'll never get back! I want…to be your boyfriend, not your wife.” His heart pounded as he recognized what he just said. Not only his confession, but the awful hatred he just spewed more out of. It was true, but it wasn't going to help this situation de-escalate.

Scott started actively sparking with electricity from the anger and pain he was going through. What in the world gave him the right to talk about his wife that way? He knew what happened, he wasn't a moron. He didn't need an alien telling him about humans in such an analytical and logical way. It was like he didn't have a heart. And to have the audacity to say he wants to be with him? After being so patronizing toward his wife? He wasn't a baby with no object permanence, just because she's gone doesn't mean he'll just…fall into his arms. “I KNOW that! I'm not a goddamn moron. And trust me, you could never replace her. She was…perfect. I just want to see her face again. That's it.” He felt a pang in his heart for his confession but he brushed it aside. He was straight, after all. 

He put his head in his hands. He's never felt this frustrated before, ever, really. He couldn't help but think he was talking to a broken record and he was starting to fully lose his cool, which was saying a lot, considering he, himself, had to have things repeated to him quite a bit. “Stop lying to yourself! You wouldn't kiss me as her and hold my hand and stuff if you just wanted to see her. Just…just be honest with me. For one second, ok? Can you do that? Please?” 

Scott actually shut his mouth, his sparks dying down in their intensity but very much still being there. He nodded.

Shapesmith sighed. “Would you ever do anything that you did with ‘her’ if I just stayed myself? Or Rus or whatever you call this form?” He let his arms fall to his sides, just staring up at him like he had the answer to everything. Like he was the only hope he had in the world. Despite Scott's responses, he hoped and prayed that when push fame to shove, something would happen, something would change, he would have an epiphany that he did all of this because he was scared to confront the fact that he was bisexual or that he likes somebody again or just…SOMETHING.

…his sparks died down, completely gone now. His fists unfurled themselves as he straightened his back. He tried to think for a moment. He wasn't asking if he would do anything with him now, necessarily. But would he ever get with him, even if he didn't get married…? If he had never met Becky and only knew Shapesmith, would he? But then again, that doesn't matter because he does have a wife. Or, had, it's hard for him to remember with how much he sees a copy of his wife act so normally. He didn't react with a nod or shake, not one expression change, not one peep.

Shapesmith started walking over to the door. Scott wanted to stop him, but both of his options resulted in him leaving. He could either do nothing, or tell him that he wouldn't. 

“I should have fucking known you would have used me like this. You really are a villian.” Shapesmith said with poison in his voice as he slammed the door shut

Scott fell back on the couch, pulling his hair back with his hands. He didn't do anything wrong but then…why does it feel like it?

The end

Hi howdy hello! Thank you for reading, I hoped you enjoyed it but I do accept concrit!! Specifically, I really hope everybody was relatively in character because it felt like a soap opera at some parts, haha ^^; anyways but ye!! >:)

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

Spark stretch doodles I've been cooking! :33

Shapesmith: Could I...stay myself this time.

(Note: This is based off of Rebecca Sugar's drawings not too long ago about Sadie x Amethyst! Because oo I like me some angst..anyways I guess in this version I'm not sure why really other than desperation but Powerplex would go to Shapesmith and just like,,either asks him directly to turn into her or is talking abt her n Shapesmith tries to cheer him up so he turns into her or something and um yeah things go from there :3)

Btw the rest of this is based on this clip that I've been seeing lately tho I think I got some of the dialogue wrong whoops haha

Powerplex: I had the most wonderful dream last night! My wife was alive again & we were kissing like a couple of teenagers on lover's lane!

Powerplex: Were those there before?

Shapesmith: No

Powerplex: Then why didn't you wake me??

Shapesmith: I thought you were awake

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

ima need some more shapeplex fics 😈 okay but GENUINELY that fic was so GOOD I NEED MORE IN MY BONES AND MY BLOOOOD

Sparkstretch/Shapeplex is so peak so I completely understand we're you're coming from and awwww anon you're really too kind but thank you extremely extremely much!!! ❤️ I haven't written a full fic in a second so it's nice to know I'm not rusty at it haha.

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

Sparkstretch angst kinda ft. Kate

Kate: You’re dating Powerplex??

Shapesmith: Yeah! Scott is really cool! J

Kate: Well…at least he seems to only be an obstacle to himself.

Kate: So, are things going well?

Shapesmith: I think so, he really appreciates my shapeshifting abilities, like it’s something grand. It’s nice.

Kate, confused: …what do you mean appreciates? I mean, you’re technically always using them anyways.

Shapesmith: Well…I transform into Becky when I’m around him.

Kate: H-His deceased wife?

Shapesmith: Yeah?

Kate: Shapesmith…don’t you think it’s…strange that he only wants you to be Becky?

Shapesmith: …?

Shapesmith: I’m already transformed majority of the time anyways, what’s the difference?

Kate, sighing: Nothing it’s just…forget I said anything…

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

do you have any other shapesmith x powerplex headcanons???

Howdy hey sorry for the super long wait haha anyways I'll try to cook some up!! Apolgizes if I've repeated any from other posts or my fanfic ^^;

Sponge x Squidward ahh ship dynamic

Shapesmith's love language is 100% physical touch and words of affirmation. When Scott lets him, he loves to just stretch himself around him and cuddle on him. Very relaxing for Scott esp if he's stressed tf out. With words of affirmation, he might not always know the...best thing to say but it comes out relatively sweet regardless. Gift giving too maybe but it's always really really shit gifts like the equivalent of printing out a minion Facebook meme and handing it to somebody. Scott accepts them with a smile though.

Powerplex's love language is probably....quality time and acts of service maybe a little gift giving too. I think he just likes to take care of people, otherwise I don't think he'd be hating on Invincible as much as he does lol. Anyways, but he loves spending time with Shapesmith, whether that be at home or through the bars of prison cell. This only grows after his wife dies and he wants to spend as much time with Shapesmith as he can so he'll remember him more since..yknow..after a time he's slowly forgetting her. Anyways....I'm not sure exactly what acts of service he would...do for Shapesmith? Other than like..putting his frozen pizza in the oven or something lol. Also oh you poor fool Scott,,see he loves giving gifts to Shapesmith or taking him somewhere and buying stuff for him and Shapesmith doesn't mind at all. Um. Scott's wallet does though, but he's not..that..worried he's not materialistic or anything but also Jesus christ.

It takes a LONG time for them to like actually actually get together because Scott is still grieving and he feels bad because he feels like a fraud for liking men when he was the 'perfect' husband and feels like a fraud as well because it feels too soon...if he's able to catch feelings this fast (like maybe a year or two) maybe he never really loved Becky...anyways but in a world where they actually stay together but before they're offical, what likely happens is Scott asks Shapesmith to come over and transform into his wife and stuff. And then very very gradually he starts asking him to stay the same, which suprises Shapesmith but he doesn't mind a bit.

Scott is little spoon a lot when cuddling because I think he needs more comfort than he lets on also because of Shapesmith's stretching n shit wrapping his arms around him like a rubber hose character.

Kate is probably the only one that's actually a little concerned for Shapesmith being with a villian, especially when they're first going out and him transforming. She gradually gets better with it but is always a little concerned. (I loveee the idea of them being friends). Maybe Amanda too a little. Rae is confused but happy that they're happy as she watches things play out. Rudy probably dgaf or don't know.

I feel like maybe Immortal and 100% Cecil either dgaf that much about Shapesmith to care and/or see it as him keeping Scott.. "at bay".

When Shapesmith first saw Scott at the GDA he did think he was kinda cute but he heard somebody say he had a wife so feelings weren't really..developed much but there was that initial spark.

Speaking of, a first glimmer of something more for Scott was probably during their fight 😭 dhdhdhd like he worked at the GDA he probably knew who he was but dismissed him. But during their fight he felt..something. Whether due to his personality or the physical fight itself whose to say...(it was the physical fight but Scott would never admit that...). Also partially because he was the only one to give him a full fight since Mark knew how his powers worked and Eve stopped fighting once she realized how they worked. (also kinda liked how he teased/ragebaited him)

Scott really really wants to see Shapesmith's Martian form, something something I want the truth I don't want a phoney something something...but when he does see his form...he's unexpectedly very um...flushed and Shapesmith notices immediately.

Scott does weak sparks when he's sick, and when he is, Shapesmith just cuddles him a lot because he doesn't really know about human medicine. Might try to give him some Martian ones but Scott says he's OK.

When Shapesmith is sick, he like tries to keep doing stuff but then like throws up immediately afterword. If Scott is home when it happens he'll try his best to get him feeling better. He's not by his side all day but he's trying to do stuff so he doesn't have to like errands or cooking or other stuff like that.

Sometimes...and onlyyy sometimes...once in a blue moon...Scott will very very quietly shock a tiny bit, it sounds almost like a purr. As soon as Shapesmith says something about it, he immediately stops but he just can't help but say something.

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

Yo shapesplex fic coming soon here. I would just post it but I wanna try to do some fancy formatting stuff so it might take a bit. But y'all should get it in the next hour or so! :]

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

I feel like I can connect The Catcher in the Rye to fucking anything because I here I am for the FIFTH (Jax, Stanley Pines, Thanos, and Min Su & Nam Gyu) time connecting characters for fandoms I'm in to Holden Caulfield 😭

Anyways but point of the post:

Powerplex reminds me of Holden in some ways. I think Powerplex would at least relate to Holden since yknow he wants justice n shut and I don't think he would appreciate people being phonies since he wants the world to see Invincible for how he really is n shit. Idk Powerplex kinda makes me think of Holden as an adult with just unreasonable grudges against everybody like if Holden was an adult but never got any better and took it to the extreme yknow?

(Now I just want to see Powerplex's speech but with Holden-;'dbhdhshs)

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

SHAPESMITH ANGST!! 🔥🔥🔥 AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!! (based on washing machine heart by mitski)

I'm not wearing my *usual* lipstick...

I thought maybe we would kiss tonight...

Baby, will you kiss me already...

And toss

Your dirty shoes in my washer

Machine heart, baby

Powerplex: Shapesmith...

Bang it up

Powerplex: We...should have never started what we did. But...this? I...I can't handle it right now. You get that, right?

Shapesmith: Oh, y-yeah, of course. It was dumb anyways. I just...thought you liked *me*.

Alright I'm not fully evil lol I did make some fluffy Sparkstretch too :3

Shapesmith: C'mon pick up that smile! Oh god it's not working! (Based off of an Inside Job moment :3)

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

A writer and an alcoholic walk into a coffee shop on Thanksgiving...(Abandoned/never will be finished)

1.8k words, hurt/comfort, Brendon is Unemployed Brendon and Brendan is his brother.

A/N: imma be real with you chat this has been in the works since like before Thanksgiving in 2022 and after writing my Sparkstretch fic I forgot how much fun writing can be and this really feels like a slogfest to try and finish but I hope you enjoy what I have

Summary:

Unemployed Brendon is walking about the shops on Thanksgiving, never feeling truly at home enough to visit his brother. He goes to a coffee shop to write but finds somebody that doesn't expect him to be more than he is right now...

Brendon was walking through the snow one specific day in November as he wondered what to do since no store would be open today. He looked at one of the only places with its lights on, Cracker Barrel. Unsurprising, seeing as though there would be many families having dinner there today. Despite having family, Brendon was never welcomed at any dinner because he was still considered a failure, unemployed, since he was writing a stupid novel, and was still an unpublished author. All those things considered weren’t exactly the most compelling argument to his parents that he should be allowed on the premises, nor to his own brother. His brother, Brendan, was still a kiss-ass to their parents even all these years down the line, and inviting Brendon would ruin that. Or, at least that’s what Brendon told himself.

He continued walking down the streets of Clayhill, desperately trying to get his mind off of his crippling loneliness. He saw a bright yellow hue shine itself on him. It was coming from the local cafe. He smiled, maybe this day wouldn’t be terrible after all, even if he couldn’t spend it with his family, he could at least work on his novel. He clutched his rough draft in one hand and held the other around his waist to keep himself warm. It didn’t help that he didn't have much clothing or body fat to warm him up, but the smell of coffee motivated him to keep going.

He pressed onward through the crunching of snow toward the cafe. The inviting smell and somber music warmed up his heart as he entered through the door with a bell ringing behind him. He went up to order, unsurprisingly he was the only one in line.

Colin was washing a cup with a washrag until he turned around after a few moments and saw the vertically-challenged briefcase. He looked down at him. “Will it be the usual?”

He nodded as Colin got to work making a black coffee with 12 pumps of espresso. Technically, it was too much for anybody to drink at one given time, nonetheless a person of his stature, but Colin compiled because he vaguely knew what was going on with him and his brother.

As Colin got to work, Brendon looked around the cafe to sit precisely where he could just sit and write in peace. Where he usually liked to work was the table nearest to the window. He liked to look at the cars passing in the moonlight as their headlights beamed out, which sparkled up the usually dull evening view. It was a certain ordinary beauty he didn’t notice very often. However, the only real problem with his preference was there was precisely one table next to the window, well directly anyways.

That preference had came back to bite him since there was an unidentifiable object passed out on the table. He huffed a little and thought of some mild swear words in his consciousness, but he could still get some work done anywhere in the cafe, right? Though, as he looked in the direction of his-the table-he soon started to recognize who it was by his lampshade. Despite never really being introduced to any of the teachers-other than Colin, since Brendan didn’t know the fellow, so he had no expectations on what the briefcase family could achieve, so for Brendon it meant that there was no standards to fail to come to, which was comforting-, for Brendan’s fear of embarrassing himself by introducing Brendon as his brother mostly and being seen with him and associating with him, he had seen the lamp on occasion here and there. Usually passed out with a strong smell of alcohol, drugs, or both. Despite this commonplace behavior, there was no scent of that originating from him, not a particularly noticeable one at least.

Brendon kept gazing off into his consciousness before being snapped into reality by the ding of a dinner bell, to alert him he had gotten his coffee. He smiled and held it in one of his hands. It had already brightened his mood and warmed him up a meager amount.

He put his money on the table for Colin to collect, but he pushed it back to him. “It’s on the house.”

“Oh! Thanks, Colin!”

“Don’t mention it.” He continued working in the back for the rest of his shift.

He decided, despite somebody already occupying one of the chairs, it wouldn’t hurt to sit across from him. He could still get his work done and on the rare chance that he does awaken from his slumber, it might be nice to have somebody to talk to, despite how little he talks to anybody other than his brother.

He walked over to the table in question and sat across from the lamp in question. He got out his stapled personal copy of his book and pulled out some lined paper to start on a new chapter. He got out his pen and started to work on his book, The Ultimate Forgiveness. It was a simple book, not that Brendon really cared about that much. After all, it made his heart happy and was the only real hobby he had, and that’s all that mattered, isn’t it?

He smiled as he wrote a specifically touching line of dialogue that introduced some softness to one of his edgier characters. He loved the concept of somebody so hateful and mean was still capable of being soft towards those they had hurt, granted unintentionally, but still. He wondered if he had made them too soft, though. He sighed and put down his pen and carefully took his cup of coffee to his mouth, careful to not let any of it drip onto his novel. Malcolm forbid anybody ruin his book, nonetheless himself, since this was the only copy he had.

He slurped down some coffee and it seemed the small amount of noise he was producing was enough to wake up the seemingly intoxicated lamp, despite there not being a particularly strong odor of alcohol still. For a teacher whose whole shtick is dreams, he wasn’t a very deep sleeper. He sat up slowly, stretching out his arms, and looked at the briefcase in front of him. He wiped his mouth from the eggnog he had consumed the night before-which was only a few hours ago, since it was early in the morning-and gave him a little wave.

Brendon awkwardly waved back as the lamp started to speak, which Brendon dreaded. He didn’t hate to talk to people, but he preferred that people wouldn’t, especially since he was working on his novel. “H-Hey haven’t I seen you around before?”

He shrugged. “You might have seen my brother…”

“The dick?” 

Despite that being his brother, it did make him somewhat happy that somebody shared similar sentiments about him. Plus, it was nice for his brother to get the short end of the stick for once instead of him. It surprised him though he had said that, everybody else treated his brother like a saint who did no wrong.

He smiled a little. “Yea, the one and only. I’m ‘unemployed’  Brendon. What do they call you?”

“Larry, usually. Your brother prefers the terms ‘unemployed, lazy, useless, and imbecilic’...whatever that means.”

“Ah, so you’ve had a talk with the devil himself then, huh?”

“Heh…” He chuckled before he hiccuped. “Yea…he came around these parts and started giving me a rant about jobs and blah blah blah.” He noticed the papers scattered around the other side of the table. “Hey…what’s that?”

Brendon jumped like a feral cat and brought the papers toward himself, a meager attempt to try to hide his sacred words from him. It wasn’t nearly done and not perfect yet, why would anybody want to read it? “U-Uhhhh…nothing…” He mumbled out to him.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. Is it yer diary or somethin’?”

“Well…no…but…it’s…just a work in progress and all…”

“Y’know I’m a bit of a con…conno…connoisessur?...fan! Yea, fan of reading and junk…I could help you with it…” He hiccuped and that just reminded Brendon on how intoxicated he still seemed but it was an intriguing offer. Still though, why did he even want to in the first place? Nobody ever wanted to read any of Brendon’s work, even when they were trying to show how incompetent and how much of a loser he was. 

He handed over the copy over with a shaking hand and a reddening face. Despite the fact that he practically shoved it into his hands, he almost took it back from him as soon as he gave it over, like a cat playing with a mouse toy. He heard the pages turn as Larry read over them, his eyes starting to sparkle with a sudden energy as he glazed through the pages.

Brendon didn’t notice a thing, just sitting there, toying with his fingers like lego pieces. “D…Did you like it?” 

“Yeah, I did.” He said, looking sober for the first time tonight, his eyes all wide and a smile that flashed his teeth. “I like that you made the edgelord…soft. It’s like he’s faking being himself or something.” He hiccuped again, it was hard to remember that he was drunk at times like these until he did something like that.

Brendon smiled wide, his cheeks tinting themselves towards the warmer side of the color wheel. “Oh…uh…” He was reminded of the many times where his brother would introduce him as unemployed and how many times Brendon himself had thrown his novel away. Then he looked back at Larry, who was still smiling like an idiot. “Thanks…i-it means a lot to hear that…”

His eyes widened. “You’re actin�� like you’ve never heard that before…” His right hand curled up, like it was holding a bottle, as he brought it to his mouth. Brendon noticed that he had nothing in hand, not that Larry was sober enough to realize in the first place, though.

“I…haven’t.” He strangled out, looking down at his novel. The novel that he had “in place” of a job. That’s what he told himself, anyways. He looked down at the nametag. Unemployed Brendon. He grabbed at his nametag, almost ripping it off…but he moved his hand away, his throat starting to form a lump. God, he really was pathetic wasn’t he? He shouldn’t be acting like this, it would only make Larry pity him more than he already does. 

Larry put down his imaginary glass of alcohol and reached over the table for his hand. Brendon was still and stared into the void as he grasped his hand. He said no words as he held his hand. Even if he was sober, he wasn’t exactly the mushy gushy say-the-right-things kind of guy. He just wanted to let Brendon know that he was here with him, in the moment, even if he didn’t have a clue what he was thinking.