#sunhive

               they just let anyone do this shit, don’t they? buttercup has to work very hard to keep her eyes from rolling right out of her head. this might be kind of hypocritical of her, seeing as she’s been solving mysteries and exterminating monsters since she was five. that’s different, though. she and her sisters have SUPERPOWERS for fuck’s sake. they can do whatever they want. she’s pretty sure it’s all sorts of illegal to have a civilian assist in criminal cases, but whatever. 

               buttercup waves her puff id to the uniformed mopes surrounding the area, flashing it far too quickly for them to actually read it. they don’t need to see it. the puff uniform gives her away. the glow of her eyes makes her recognizable from miles away. some of the officers give her the side eye, hands hovering over available sticks and sidearms; the others visibly relaxed. while she might be the most VOLATILE powerpuff, she is still, at the end of the day, a powerpuff.

there's a becky, holding a card out to him. it's decorated in glitter and anything else a young girl can manage to get her hands on in arts and crafts. " here - "

    🤖🤖— All to waste would go the ever snarky, holier-than-thou remark prepared upon the other’s approach; the pleasure of even getting to speak her name in his trademark sour tone is found lost - when something she bears utterly silences him: a little gift.

  & -- seemingly, a little gift for HIM. From a narrow glance, eyes visibly widen in puzzlement - looking to Becky & back to the card she presented, lips to quiver with hands twitching in anticipation. In the light they stood under, the card shone & shimmered more than a handful of jewels; even he had to admire that.

    ❝ W--- what’s all this, then? ❞ Warily, he reaches for it -- she wasn’t hesitating, nor taking it back from his open grasp - yet he couldn’t help but think if this was some trick. Even with the month’s latest festivities in the backburners of his mind, he didn’t expect something with such OBVIOUS dedication put into it -- not for HIM, anyway. Notions of cookie cutter, dime-a-dozen generic Valentines - like the ones he’d gotten himself for the class, swam past the vision of the card he held, pinched carefully in his grasp; this looked NOTHING like it. Akin to a puzzle piece not fitting into an empty slot, this simply couldn’t register.

  A cocked brow & curious eyes examine the girl’s work, taking care not to damage it’s content - taking care not to smudge the glitter & all it’s decor, perhaps not in his taste - but not the point. The effort put in to put it all together, the knowledge that SHE put that effort in for HIM & HIM alone -- despite it all, well - he can’t help but feel a little softened by it. It didn’t have to be stunning, --goodness knows NEITHER of them had such artistic capability, but suddenly getting it felt like being rewarded -- & even his bitter mind can’t truly place why past the sentiment.

Silence; it’s deafening, overwhelming -- & it clearly hits him that he’s been boring a HOLE into the card the entire time without a word - even more so, he’s been SMILING for who knows HOW long. Quiet finally breaks as he briefly hides his face behind the card, his grin falling bashful & struggling to stay in his awe, cheeks darkening in the sudden mess he’s making of himself.

    ❝ I-I--- o-OH-- um-- ‘HEM-- I-it’s---- it’s a very--- ‘HGHM. V-very nice card--! I-- I-I don’t even know what to SAY, I--- ❞ Of course he doesn’t, the fool he’s making of himself explains it perfectly. ❝ Y-your--- I-I’ve noticed your-- um--- a-artistic--- ❞ He looks to the card for assurance, ❝ --SKILLS! -- Have--- ha-have improved, um.. ❞

  ❝ --I-it’s a very nice card. ❞ Good job Becky, you rendered him fully stupid. He stands awkwardly, arms crossed over the card, holding it close -- most definitely getting glitter all over his vest, with the rosiest cheeks & biggest, dopiest smile. Can you tell he’s struggling to remain composed? ❝ I love--- I-I thank you for it. ❞ 

        { ♜ } ❛❛ Sometimes the only payoff for having any faith, is when it's tested again and again everyday. ❜❜

“Hey!” The room seemed to go silent at her entrance, students and friends parting way as Alya busied herself with the luscious locks of hair that fell over the blogger’s shoulders now secure in an elastic band.

She could care less about being expelled, at least her reasons would be valid.

“You won’t have to lie about what I’m going to do to you once we’re done here. I don’t care about your “issues” and your “loneliness” you messed with my best friend. 

One of the best people in this school and I’m not going to stand around to watch you turn everyone against her. ” 

Moving into Lila’s personal space Alya pressed forward, pushing her against the heavy set of lockers behind her as the rest of the room gasped.

Shit’s fucked.

Maybe that’s an understatement. Shit’s not only been pailed, it’s gone down so hard down the mothergrub’s chutehole that it’s become a symbiote with it. They’ve merged and made a motherfucking mess of a miracle child that only pops out shitty wrigglers. It’s shit wrigglers all the way down, trolls are going extinct. If Alternia hadn’t already been assaulted by meteors Gamzee would be praying for a quick death.

People hated him. Everyone thought he was a piece of despicable clown shit and honestly this motherfucker isn’t too inclined to disagree sometimes. Sure, he found his calling, his destiny to have some sort of heroic moment, the ultimate sacrifice. Yet in a way he would be forever denied of his paradise planet, the dark carnival aint goin’ to welcome him, and he’s forever stuck on comitting horrible atrocities in the name of a fake messiahs. Sacrifices must be made for his legacy he supposes, shit was worth it as long as everyone was happy afterwards. 

Karkat had exited the room for a moment. Gamzee could see his diamond shattering a mile away, yet a clown that he was he kept up the ruse. He was now all motherfucking alone with the girl who’s diamond he shattered on his own. Shit was as silent as death itself.

So he was the first to talk.

—

if you told helga g. pataki that she would be venting to her older sister about arnold shortman of all people while simultaneously raising her arms and flailing in frustration about her predicament yet being completely open and honest with her sister, she probably would have punched you right between the eyes.

and yet ; there they were.

“ so of course i say : move it, football head ! && do you know what he says back ? nothing ! absolutely nothing ! can you believe the nerve ? UGH. ”

b99 ✿ ( accepting! )

          ❝ Don’t worry, miss. It gets pretty HECTIC around here on a daily basis, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it.  Why don’t you sit down ?   I’ll grab some tea and explain in a way that makes sense.❞