Idk have you ever just paused to wonder why people like you? Why people follow and send you nice messages? How out of the billions of people on Earth, someone really thinks your cool. Whether it’s an internet friend or someone in real life, someone out there knows your name. Someone out there knows what kind of topping you like on your pizza. Someone out there will order the exact opposite pizza of what you like just to see your reaction. Someone out there knows and cares for you, whether you know it or not. I like thinking about it.
Old art post :3 * “ When playin’ games online, me n’ Iggy have a very interesting play style. Looks kinda mushy, but hey it works! >:3 Those online suckers don’t even know what hit em! “ … * ” Ahem.. Also.. his hair smells like pineapples *u* “
Once upon a time, a girl named Brooke from the great, humid state of Florida decided that on this fateful day, she would make a tumblr account. She did, and after receiving a single follower, she danced around her room like an utter idiot. Flash forward a month, and she was scrolling through her feed. She was looking at the ship “eremin” and stumbled upon an account named “attackonshawn.” Since it was an audio post, she plugged in her earbuds and listened to this wonderful human’s godlike voice. She instantly followed him. A few minutes later, he followed her back. She did the stupid idiot dance again, only multiplied by 100000000 bc of the magnitude of this guy’s talent. A few weeks later, we get to know each other very well and become awesome fwends. He hosts various streams that birth some of the greatest memes of the century, created by none other than me, the meme queen (ily meme king @pixelbit5801 ) and the wondrous Shawn Squad. Adding sh to things, pineapple shipping, kinkshaming, and even the entire bee movie script were discussed and laughed at on the streams and on the dashboards of his awesome followers. Today, his fan base has grown to a whopping 2000 people. That’s a lot of Shawn Squadians. Anyways, this girl, Brooke, has had the greatest period of her life bc of this one accident of stumbling upon your audio post, Shawn. This whole situation has literally been a happy accident. Wow, I’m glad I clicked that play button. Otherwise, I would’ve never met your wonderful, awesome, funny, and shamazing self. Keep being you, Shawnathon. We shlove you so much. You’re one fine pineapple. ♡
131. ”This is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here.”
When he heard a knock at the door, Combeferre debated whether he should get up to answer it. He was feeling better, it was true: the itching and swelling had gone down and he hadn’t vomited for the past hour at least. Still, he wasn’t quite back at full capacity. Maybe if he just lay there on the couch, whoever it was would just go away…
The rapid fire banging that occurred as soon as the thought entered Combeferre’s head told him that wasn’t going to happen. He managed to stop himself from audibly groaning when he stood up, but he still shuffled his way to the door as slowly as he could.
He opened it, expecting to see maybe a concerned Joly or perhaps the downstairs neighbor complaining about him flushing the toilet so often (it did funny things with the water pressure), but not a pizza box shoved in his face. He recognized the bowed head behind it by the mass of coppery brown curls. Before he could extend a greeting, he was cut off by,
“This is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here.”
Combeferre leaned against the doorframe, a fond smile finding it’s way to his face. “Courfeyrac…”
“I’m serious, ‘Ferre.” And the way his voice quivered on the ‘Ferre made Combeferre believe him. He quickly straightened up and took the box from Courfeyrac’s hands.
Finally, Courfeyrac raised his head. He really did look on the verge of tears.
“Do you want to come in?” said Combeferre hastily, hoping to get the question out before Courfeyrac actually started crying.
Courfeyrac nodded and with a sniffle entered the appartment. He sat down on the couch Combeferre had just vacated and Combeferre followed him, placing the pizza box down on the coffee table. They sat in silence for a moment, but true to form, Courfeyrac didn’t let the silence stand for long. He broke it with a blurted,
“I swear I didn’t mean to poison you.”
Combeferre smiled at him kindly.
“You didn’t know I was allergic to soy,” he said gently. “In hindsight, I should have told you when you decided veganism was the flavor of the week.” Combeferre paused and stared off into the distance as he reflected on what he had just said. Then a small smile came over his face. “Heh. Flavor of the week.” He turned back to Courfeyrac. “Get it? Because it’s food?”
Courfeyrac looked bewildered. “Did… did you just laugh at your own joke?”
Combeferre coughed. “What? I’m allowed,” he said in what he hoped was a dignified manner.
Courfeyrac cracked a dimpled grin that made Combeferre’s stomach feel like maybe he had ingested soy again. Except… upon reflection the sensation was much more pleasant. He wondered what that meant.
“Anyways,” said Combeferre, clearing his throat before such thoughts could get away from him. “Even though there’s no reason for you to apologize, I accept your apology. What kind of pizza did you get?”
For some reason this question made Courfeyrac shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Well…” he said, rubbing the back of his head. (The action made his hair stand up which caused Combeferre’s stomach to flip again but he ignored it.) “I wasn’t sure what else you were allergic to. I know a lot of people are lactose intollerant, so I couldn’t get cheese pizza, and apparently some people who are allergic to dairy are also allergic to meat, so I couldn’t get you meatlovers. And some people are allergic to tomatoes, so red sauce was out of the question. But I don’t know what they put in white sauce so I couldn’t risk that either… And did you know people can be allergic to broccoli? I didn’t, but apparently it’s true and you could be one of those people as well so…”
Combeferre’s head was spinning. “Okay okay,” he said, raising his hands. “So what exactly did you order?”
“Well,” said Courfeyrac sheepishly, “I remember when you went to Hawaii for your mom’s wedding, you said you liked the food there. So I figured it was safe to go with pineapple.”
Courfeyrac flushed. “Yes.”
Combeferre opened the pizza box to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, “You got me baked pizza dough with pieces of pineapple on it.”
It wasn’t necessarily a question, but Courfeyrac still answered, “…yes.”
Combeferre stared down at the pizza. It looked dry and completely unappetizing. But out of the corner of his eye he could see Courfeyrac earnestly watching him and dammit if that didn’t make up his mind for him.
“Well,” he said, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “It’s not going to eat itself.”