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[anthropomorfic] years of experience - g
Title: Years of Experience (The Come and Stare At Us Remix)
Rating: G
Length: ~900 words
Fandom: Anthropomorfic (Twitter, Tumblr, HSK/Spanon)
A/N: REVERSE REMIX: COMMENT EDITION. Title from Regina Spektor's Us. Thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
allthingsholy for giving me her They'll Name A City After Us to play with. I LITERALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THIS IS.
On LJ | AO3 | DW
"I heard it's haunted. Like, American Horror Story!haunted. Like, Glee scary. With rubber suits and bisexual erasure and no trigger warnings. It's freaking me out so hard right now just to look at it. I literally can't."
Twitter unlocked the front door and looked across the street at the house Tumblr was so fascinated by. It was a show-stopper in every sense of the word. Not because it had any great beauty but because once you noticed it, you could hardly look away. It was a hulking mass of mismatched styles, from the Gothic eaves to the candy-colored vinyl siding that was cracked and peeling in a dozen places. The front porch was worn and faded, boards buckling from too much sun and rain. Yellowed newspapers littered the sidewalk and the bushes were grown up so high she couldn't tell if the windows were shuttered or broken.
Twitter snorted. "It's creepy-looking but that place is about as haunted as I am."
"Still. I wouldn't reblog it after dark, that's for damn sure."
"Still, nothing, @Tumblr. It's just an empty house. They moved on." She went back for another handful of reusable grocery bags from the car and headed inside.
Tumblr was right on her heels. It was hard to shake the kid, but she was a good egg. Mostly. She liked to hover over everybody, that was for sure, feeding them a steady stream of links and gifsets and poking her nose into literally everything that went on. Twitter didn't really have the appetite for most of what she was serving, but Facebook from next door ate it up.
Facebook had always been a total pig, though.
"Oh, my God! I totally forgot to tell you! I met Pinterest the other day. She invited me over to start planning the block party." Tumblr danced her way around the kitchen, stashing cookies in the cupboard where the plates were supposed to go. "Wait, no, I did tell you that, didn't I? Or was that Radar? I think it might have been Radar. I tell Radar everything but he never pays any attention."
There was a reason Twitter really only came out of her room to update her status or to run errands. Tumblr was exhausting to be around, just like her cousin ONTD. Everything was at full-volume, all the time. She much preferred her way of doing things, quiet and orderly. Just a few lines of text and a couple of links. That was all anybody needed, really.
She missed the way things used to be, back when the house across the street was practically bursting with life. She hadn't had any roommates, then. Just her links and her pastel eggs in their nests, and lots of peace and quiet. Every once in a while, there would be a big wave of joyous or anguished noise flooding the block when the show stopped by. But even that was nice. Everybody was so happy.
Well, they'd seemed happy, anyway. Spanon hadn't just appeared out of thin air.
"Pinterest said somebody got murdered over there."
Twitter jerked back to the present. "No, it was nothing like that. It was all just a misunderstanding. HSK didn't mean to do it."
"YOU KNEW THEM??? #WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT #WHAT THE WHAT #W H A T"
"Will you please hashtag the right way? You know it upsets me when you do it like that."
"#sorry."
"Thanks. It was nothing, really. HSK gave me something that wasn't hers and told me to give it to Bill Prady. When the rest of the house..."
She paused to take a drink. Talking so much all at once made her throat hurt.
"...found out about it, there was a huge fight. Spanon showed up and kicked HSK out. Pretty much everybody else, too, but that took a while."
Tumblr sniffled. "Oh, my God, I am totally crying right now. That's so sad!"
She didn't ask Twitter any more questions but kept up a running commentary of how she hoped it would turn out for the erstwhile fangirls. She seemed so broken up about it, and so oddly enthusiastic at the same time, that Twitter didn't have the heart to correct her hashtagging again.
It was getting dark outside by the time they were done putting away the groceries. Tumblr disappeared into her room with a list of tracked tags a mile long, mumbling something about her dog Queue shitting the bed. Next door at Facebook's, another in his incessant string of keg parties was just getting started.
Twitter turned on the TV and flipped through the seventeen hundred global channels Google had hooked her up with when she moved in.
It was the middle of the summer and everything was in reruns, even on the cable networks. She stopped on one of the alphabet soup channels at the upper end of the dial, the kind that specialized in crappy syndicated sitcoms and dudebro sketch comedies. After a commercial for an asbestos lawsuit and another for pajama jeans, a familiar ensemble came onscreen. One of the characters sat on a leather sofa, accompanied by raucous studio audience laughter, even though no one had even made a joke yet.
Twitter smiled. She imagined HSK and Spanon were out there together, somewhere, watching the same show. Maybe in a snug little house on the edge of the LiveJournal Desert, away from the pressures of weekly updates and Wikipedia-mining, happy at last.
Rating: G
Length: ~900 words
Fandom: Anthropomorfic (Twitter, Tumblr, HSK/Spanon)
A/N: REVERSE REMIX: COMMENT EDITION. Title from Regina Spektor's Us. Thanks to
allthingsholy for giving me her They'll Name A City After Us to play with. I LITERALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THIS IS.On LJ | AO3 | DW
"I heard it's haunted. Like, American Horror Story!haunted. Like, Glee scary. With rubber suits and bisexual erasure and no trigger warnings. It's freaking me out so hard right now just to look at it. I literally can't."
Twitter unlocked the front door and looked across the street at the house Tumblr was so fascinated by. It was a show-stopper in every sense of the word. Not because it had any great beauty but because once you noticed it, you could hardly look away. It was a hulking mass of mismatched styles, from the Gothic eaves to the candy-colored vinyl siding that was cracked and peeling in a dozen places. The front porch was worn and faded, boards buckling from too much sun and rain. Yellowed newspapers littered the sidewalk and the bushes were grown up so high she couldn't tell if the windows were shuttered or broken.
Twitter snorted. "It's creepy-looking but that place is about as haunted as I am."
"Still. I wouldn't reblog it after dark, that's for damn sure."
"Still, nothing, @Tumblr. It's just an empty house. They moved on." She went back for another handful of reusable grocery bags from the car and headed inside.
Tumblr was right on her heels. It was hard to shake the kid, but she was a good egg. Mostly. She liked to hover over everybody, that was for sure, feeding them a steady stream of links and gifsets and poking her nose into literally everything that went on. Twitter didn't really have the appetite for most of what she was serving, but Facebook from next door ate it up.
Facebook had always been a total pig, though.
"Oh, my God! I totally forgot to tell you! I met Pinterest the other day. She invited me over to start planning the block party." Tumblr danced her way around the kitchen, stashing cookies in the cupboard where the plates were supposed to go. "Wait, no, I did tell you that, didn't I? Or was that Radar? I think it might have been Radar. I tell Radar everything but he never pays any attention."
There was a reason Twitter really only came out of her room to update her status or to run errands. Tumblr was exhausting to be around, just like her cousin ONTD. Everything was at full-volume, all the time. She much preferred her way of doing things, quiet and orderly. Just a few lines of text and a couple of links. That was all anybody needed, really.
She missed the way things used to be, back when the house across the street was practically bursting with life. She hadn't had any roommates, then. Just her links and her pastel eggs in their nests, and lots of peace and quiet. Every once in a while, there would be a big wave of joyous or anguished noise flooding the block when the show stopped by. But even that was nice. Everybody was so happy.
Well, they'd seemed happy, anyway. Spanon hadn't just appeared out of thin air.
"Pinterest said somebody got murdered over there."
Twitter jerked back to the present. "No, it was nothing like that. It was all just a misunderstanding. HSK didn't mean to do it."
"YOU KNEW THEM??? #WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT #WHAT THE WHAT #W H A T"
"Will you please hashtag the right way? You know it upsets me when you do it like that."
"#sorry."
"Thanks. It was nothing, really. HSK gave me something that wasn't hers and told me to give it to Bill Prady. When the rest of the house..."
She paused to take a drink. Talking so much all at once made her throat hurt.
"...found out about it, there was a huge fight. Spanon showed up and kicked HSK out. Pretty much everybody else, too, but that took a while."
Tumblr sniffled. "Oh, my God, I am totally crying right now. That's so sad!"
She didn't ask Twitter any more questions but kept up a running commentary of how she hoped it would turn out for the erstwhile fangirls. She seemed so broken up about it, and so oddly enthusiastic at the same time, that Twitter didn't have the heart to correct her hashtagging again.
It was getting dark outside by the time they were done putting away the groceries. Tumblr disappeared into her room with a list of tracked tags a mile long, mumbling something about her dog Queue shitting the bed. Next door at Facebook's, another in his incessant string of keg parties was just getting started.
Twitter turned on the TV and flipped through the seventeen hundred global channels Google had hooked her up with when she moved in.
It was the middle of the summer and everything was in reruns, even on the cable networks. She stopped on one of the alphabet soup channels at the upper end of the dial, the kind that specialized in crappy syndicated sitcoms and dudebro sketch comedies. After a commercial for an asbestos lawsuit and another for pajama jeans, a familiar ensemble came onscreen. One of the characters sat on a leather sofa, accompanied by raucous studio audience laughter, even though no one had even made a joke yet.
Twitter smiled. She imagined HSK and Spanon were out there together, somewhere, watching the same show. Maybe in a snug little house on the edge of the LiveJournal Desert, away from the pressures of weekly updates and Wikipedia-mining, happy at last.