(wendy was planning on having a relaxing, fun filled day at the con. buy a ton of stuff she doesn't really need, but her room desperately needs wendy corduroy decorations aside from a shitton of weapons. this means grabbing anything resembling death metal album covers, obnoxiously crazy fight scenes, preferably that look like weirdmageddon, you get the idea. a lot of really cool stuff.
but she's having a rather hard time making her way through as she frequently gets stopped by fans. she hasn't done much, but she's apparently every teenagers dream. cool. confident. kick ass. pretty? she shrugs at that one. but at one point, it's near impossible to move as her fans literally swarm around her. and showing no signs of being able to get out anytime soon. she's trapped in a sea of flannel. possibly forever.)
(b)
(when she finally manages to duck away from the swarm of teenage girls practically screaming her name, and not at all the usual deep chanting she's used to, wendy takes this time to load up on as much junk food as possible.
especially the stuff with all her friends' faces on them. or her own face.) I've beaten myself up, but eating my own face? This is going to be an experience to remember. (now to devour these corducookies.)
(c)
(is it really a rave if thompson isn't there to take off his shirt and embarrass himself?
if there are glowsticks, then the answer is yes. definitely. absolutely. she's practically collecting them as she dances along to the louder, more rock sounding songs. for a lot of other stuff, she's off to the side, mildly jamming in her own little corner. not like youcan miss her, she's practically her own disco ball, mabel would be proud. despite all the attention, wendy is fairly chill, instead casually nodding her head in greeting at anyone who stares at her.
friends naturally get a more proper greeting, like a dance challenge.)
wendy corduroy // registered // ota
(wendy was planning on having a relaxing, fun filled day at the con. buy a ton of stuff she doesn't really need, but her room desperately needs wendy corduroy decorations aside from a shitton of weapons. this means grabbing anything resembling death metal album covers, obnoxiously crazy fight scenes, preferably that look like weirdmageddon, you get the idea. a lot of really cool stuff.
but she's having a rather hard time making her way through as she frequently gets stopped by fans. she hasn't done much, but she's apparently every teenagers dream. cool. confident. kick ass. pretty? she shrugs at that one. but at one point, it's near impossible to move as her fans literally swarm around her. and showing no signs of being able to get out anytime soon. she's trapped in a sea of flannel. possibly forever.)
(b)
(when she finally manages to duck away from the swarm of teenage girls practically screaming her name, and not at all the usual deep chanting she's used to, wendy takes this time to load up on as much junk food as possible.
especially the stuff with all her friends' faces on them. or her own face.) I've beaten myself up, but eating my own face? This is going to be an experience to remember. (now to devour these corducookies.)
(c)
(is it really a rave if thompson isn't there to take off his shirt and embarrass himself?
if there are glowsticks, then the answer is yes. definitely. absolutely. she's practically collecting them as she dances along to the louder, more rock sounding songs. for a lot of other stuff, she's off to the side, mildly jamming in her own little corner. not like youcan miss her, she's practically her own disco ball, mabel would be proud. despite all the attention, wendy is fairly chill, instead casually nodding her head in greeting at anyone who stares at her.
friends naturally get a more proper greeting, like a dance challenge.)