- Amanda made Dirk watch Star Wars four times because he’d never seen it (“It’s a classic, Farah!”)
- Everybody gets to take turns picking a film or show to watch, and Farah always puts on some previously unheard-of foreign film that makes everybody cry and/or howl with laughter
- Bart just rewatches the five Disney movies she owns every time in order, and Ken doesn’t even care what they watch because he gets to sit next to Todd at the back and they complain about their crazy friends the whole time
- Dirk still owns a Blockbuster card and he and Todd drive four hours to get a DVD in the nearest one every time, and he never checks the back to see what it’s about (“the universe wants us to watch it, Todd!” “Dirk, we can’t watch another yoga instruction video it was chaos last time!”)
- The Rowdy Three watch a mixture of classic films and weird kids show box sets from the nineties, and Amanda alternates between the Die Hard series and indie, black-and-white films nobody’s heard of
day one: victorian era people, but PUNK/EMO/GOTH victorian era people.
day two: dogs with top hats and monocles
day three: your favorite character as a dinosaur
day four: make a comic that explains what your current situation is, using an anime art style
day five: draw yourself as a high school stereotype
day six: come up with, or think of a terrible pun, and then draw it
day seven: draw a beautiful scenery, and then redraw it post apocalypse
day eight: draw a being (ghost, creepypasta, zombie, etc.) that scares u the most, with groucho glasses on
day nine: recast your favorite movie with animals
day ten: draw yourself as a grumpy old person
day eleven: create your own fourth of july fireworks, and make sure to include at least one dick
day twelve: draw your favorite character wearing 80’s disco clothing
day thirteen: create an original character that fits the name “bob”
day fourteen: draw yourself as your pet, and your pet as yourself
day fifteen: draw what you think a weeaboo looks like
day sixteen: design a pair of shoes, then have someone looking at them going “WHAT ARE THOOOOSE??”
day seventeen: draw yourself in your favorite video game/movie/book
day eighteen: create an anime and name it
day nineteen: create your own rare pepe
day twenty: reuse old meme faces and make a comic with them (the trick is you have to draw those faces)
day twenty-one: two favorite characters reenacting the “you stupid,” “no i nah,” “what’s nine plus ten?” “twenty-one” vine
day twenty-two: draw your least favorite food as a monster
day twenty-three: draw your family in the same style a little kid would
day twenty-four: draw yourself in the style of an animal crossing (animal) villager
day twenty-five: draw yourself as either a grunge/punk, or a preppy/rich kid from the nineties
day twenty-six: draw a cake that says “i’m sorry for….” and put ur reasons
day twenty-seven: draw some people in vintage clothing (50’s era)
day twenty-eight: draw yourself as the lead singer of your favorite band
day twenty-nine: draw Death as a child
day thirty: draw all of your favorite characters having a sleepover
Christmas had started in the NYC, and every street corner seemed to jingle with the bells of yule tide or glisten with the tent of vibrant neon lights. It was only a few weeks out of Thanksgiving, but that didn’t change the atmosphere. Especially at Midtown high. You on the other hand, were a blur among the noisy students, too busy scampering through bodies to find your best and longest friend; Peter Parker. Peter was found exactly where you expected him, humming a tune louder than what he probably intended- his headphones blocking the loud noises of school at his locker. Once in your reach, you jumped up to snatch the thinly corded buds from his ear- which received a slight yelp of surprise. “(Y/N) Peter huffed, his eyes wide. “Don’t do that. I thought you were Flash or something.” You gave him your best smile while leaning against the locker next to his. “Sorry, I’m just stoked because tonight we get to go and see the Rockefeller tree and go Christmas shopping!” It had become tradition years running now, that you and Peter would travel all the way to Manhattan to visit the famous tree and shop along the strip. Peter’s face though, didn’t share your surprise as he blinked a few times. “huh?” You also returned his dazed expression, a frown slowly grating your features. “The tree. You know, that thing we do every year. Hot cocoa, lame jokes, scooting through crowds of people. Come on Parker even I’m not that dazed out!” Peter’s expression faltered completely, as he began to rub the back of his head. “Oh shoot (Y/N)… I completely forgot about it. I have some plans with Mr.Stark you see. Some kind of scholarship dinner party. You know, for that thing I did a couple months ago?” Your eyes flickered downward. You remembered alright. Peter had disappeared for a few days, before showing up again with bruises and a broken arm. He hadn’t exactly told you what happened- always dodging the subject when he could. It hurt to know that your friend was hiding something from you. It hurt even more that he had forgotten your most cherished tradition. Despite this you turned to look u at your friend again, giving him a small and warm smile. “its fine. Things happen. Just make sure to text me how Mr.Rich-and-Busy parties up in his tower huh?” Peter sighed with relief before laughing. He was dense like that, not catching your small emotions or disappointments sometimes. “I’m really glad you understand (Y/N). I promise I’ll make it up to you sometime. Really.” He gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze before closing his locker, leaving you behind the the crowded all. Lately, you felt like Peter was leaving you alone a lot. –
siiince you said you've been stucky trash since civil war, please write “Okay wait. Can we stop joking around like we’d ever actually date? It’s really starting to hurt…” for stucky! thank you
Oh man, follow me as I go further down the Stucky rabbit hole!
Steve Rogers was drunk. The skinny kid from Brooklyn who was ninety pounds soaking wet didn’t take more than two beers before he was completely trashed. Bucky let Steve hang off him like a wet noodle, Steve’s feet unsure underneath him.
Steve couldn’t stop giggling and the mere noise of it made Bucky smile. “Gosh Stevie, you’re gonna wake up the whole damn neighborhood with that,” he teased.
“Who was that girl you were dancing with?” Steve asked, hiccuping loudly.
“I think her name was Nancy,” Bucky responded. “What’s it to you?”
“Just curious is all,” Steve mumbled, looking down at the ground.
“Aw, come on, Steve, you know you’ll always be my best gal,” Bucky joked, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple.
Steve frowned and wrenched his small frame away from Bucky. “’m not a woman,” he said, puffing out his chest, which inadvertently made him have a coughing fit. Bucky rushed over and lifting Steve’s arms up to help expand his chest.
“Deep breaths, buddy,” Bucky murmured, holding on to Steve with care. He was always so careful with Steve even though he knew how tough his friend was.
They were pressed up close together and the air between them became thick with the smell of alcohol and their panting breaths. Bucky looked at Steve and found his friend staring at him. “Can’t say things like that,” Steve slurred, his eyelids becoming heavy.
“Like what?” Bucky asked, lowering Steve’s arms but not letting him go in case he fell backwards.
“’m a guy, Buck. So you an’ I wouldn’t…would never…It can’t happen, see? So stop jokin’ around.” Steve pulled away again and started stumbling towards their apartment.
Bucky shoved his hands in pockets and began to follow after him. He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk and took in what Steve had said. “Why not?” he called out suddenly.
Steve tripped over his own two feet and went sprawling onto the sidewalk. Bucky raced over and knelt beside him. “Fuck, you’re drunk,” he said, shaking his head.
“’m not,” Steve insisted, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the sky. “It hurts.”
“Come on,” Bucky said, holding out his hand. “I’ll help you up, tough guy.”
Steve shook his head. “Not that. Not that, Buck. You. You make me hurt.”
Bucky reeled for a moment and then took a deep breath. “You feelin’ alright, Stevie?”
Steve glanced at Bucky and then away again. “You ever been in love, Buck?”
Bucky sighed and sat down on the sidewalk next to Steve, having a feeling they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Reckon so,” he said, lying down with his head on Steve’s stomach. Steve was so skinny he could feel his ribs against his skull. “Why do you ask?”
“Who was it?” Steve asked, sliding his hand up and playing with Bucky’s hair. It was so natural for them to have this kind of intimacy with each other that Bucky almost forgot they were on the street and not in the privacy of their apartment. He quickly sat up and dusted himself off before getting to his feet. When he turned around, Steve had such a hurt look on his face that it made Bucky feel inordinately guilty.
“Come on, pal, let’s get you home,” Bucky said, lifting Steve up to his feet and putting his arm around him.
“It wasn’t me, huh,” Steve said, sounding so tired and defeated.
“Hey,” Bucky called out, turning Steve to face him. “Why don’t you ask me again in the morning. That is if you can even remember this conversation.”
“Jerk,” Steve said, punching Bucky in the arm.
Bucky grinned and got his best friend home.
Bucky was getting ready to go down to the docks for his shift when Steve finally wandered out of his room. He put his hand against the wall to steady himself as he made his way into their tiny little kitchen. He got a glass of water from the tap and drank it all down in one go before refilling it.
“What happened last night?” Steve asked, putting his hand to his head and groaning.
Bucky pressed his lips together and walked over to Steve. “You asked me if I’d ever been in love with anyone,” he said quietly, not wanting to cause Steve more pain.
“Did I?” Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder quickly at Bucky and then turning back. “I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. We can’t afford it.”
“You had two beers Steve,” Bucky said with an amused grin. “That’s hardly going to break the bank.”
“The rent’s due soon.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?” Bucky wondered, moving in closer.
Steve turned around, his face hard in determination. “What did you say?”
“Well, there’s someone. This huge punk. Known him most my life,” Bucky began, taking another step towards Steve. “Skinny an’ stupid an’ sweet.”
Steve’s face fell. “Don’t make jokes like that, Buck.”
“Who says I’m jokin’?” Bucky challenged, grabbing Steve by his suspenders and hauling him forward into a kiss. The kiss was sloppy and unrefined - Bucky knew for a fact it was Steve’s first - and Steve was too eager. But god damn it if it wasn’t exactly what Bucky wanted. He pressed Steve against the sink and continued to kiss him until Steve needed a breather.
“I’m not stupid,” Steve murmured, his face flushed and his lips red from kissing. It was a good look on him. Bucky decided he was going to make Steve look that way as often as possible.
“Not about a lot of things,” Bucky agreed, nuzzling his face against Steve’s neck. “But other things you’re very stupid about.”
Steve smiled and ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “You’re going to be late for work,” he whispered, pressing kisses to Bucky’s hairline.
“Don’t wanna go,” Bucky mumbled, completely content right where he was.
“The sooner you go, the sooner you can come home to me,” Steve whispered.
Bucky straightened up and gave Steve one more chaste kiss before heading towards the door. “You really thought it coulda been someone else I’d been in love with?” he asked from the doorway.
Steve shrugged. “Just never thought it coulda been me.”
They know that Santa’s on his way. He’s loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh and every mother’s child is gonna spy to see if reindeer really know how to fly. And so I’m offering this simple phrase to kids from one to ninety-two. Although it’s been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you.
It was really taking an effort to not scrunch up her nose at the ticklish brush. Maka flicked away Blair’s happily swishing tail whenever it got too close, it’s owner currently babbling on about “contouring” and “highlighting” while expertly applying Maka’s costume makeup. Blair tended to get rather alarmingly enthusiastic about Halloween, as did practically everybody in DC. In a city as eerie and creepy on halloween as it was any given day of the year, it’s residents usually went all out to try and impress their desensitized neighbors. As Blair finishes with a flourish (declaring her Purrfect, Maka-chan!) she straightens her waistcoat and sticks the iconic 10/6 card in her hat, heading into the living room to hassle her partner off the couch and to the costume party at Death the Kid’s mansion.
She rounds the corner and her brain comes screeching to halt, because…well. He’s wearing a half-ass vampire costume, reclining on the couch in a posture that was in no way unfamiliar. Dress shoes and slacks are offset with a simple white button down, along with a cape she’s ninety percent sure he borrowed from Kid. His head is propped up by a fist on his temple, the flickering lights from the TV playing up the sharp angles of his jaw and reflecting strangely in his pale hair. Not-even-fake fangs peek out of his lips as he idly chews a twizzler, the sight oddly causing Maka’s face to flush deeply. She clears her throat in what she hopes is an authoritative tone, but only manages to swing that sleepily intense gaze toward her own. Soul gives her a quick up and down, grinning before drawling out, “Mad Hatter? Heh. Leave it to you to dress up as a book character."
Maka narrows her eyes. "That supposed to imply I’m some sort of ultra- nerd?”
She huffs and rolls her eyes, which only seems to make his grin grow wider.
“How’d you even find this with all the ridiculous sexy nurse outfits and stuff?” he asks, coming to her and studying her elaborate frock coat.
“It’s called creativity Soul, of which you seem to have none. And I’m sure there will be plenty of other skimpy costumes around, so don’t stain that shirt with too much blood from your nose, kay?”
From this close his eyes seem to deepen, zeroing in on her face before leaning in close - unnecessarily close, close enough for her heart to start hammering and her breath to come up short- to open the door behind her.
“Could say the same to you” he murmurs in her ear, that damn smirk of his practically audible. And then he’s off, cape rippling dramatically (which she thinks he might be doing on purpose) as he strides down the steps and into the cool desert night. Scoffing, Maka is confused until she raises her hands to her burning face, pulling away to discover a thin trail of blood leaking out of her nose.