"All I have is this Elmer's Glue Stick." "I'll take it!"
Welcome to the Riddle School Exchange!
Where Riddleblr get to exchange art, fics, and more!
WHAT IS THIS ABOUT?
This is a secret santa type exchange for people within the Riddle School side of [tumblr]!
HOW DOES IT WORK?
Participants (gifters) will be given an exchange partner (giftee), who should be kept secret until the posting week, who they would be tasked in gifting! This is like secret-santa!
Gifts will most likely be a prompt or several prompts your giftee wants in the work! You do not have to do all of them! It's up to you how much of it you want to do, but the minimum is at least one (1) piece of work.
Things like art, writing, webweaves, etc. are some things the giftees would want and I'll do my best to match everyone with a type of work they're able to do, with a gift wanting their exact type!
WHERE DO I SIGN UP?
Sign-ups will be done on a Google Form, where you can sign-up HERE!
I will add ALL neccessary information, that's in case anyone has never done an exchange before and will need help.
EVENT SCHEDULE
SIGNUPS - July 31st - August 10th
ASSIGNMENTS SENT - August 12th - 13th
CREATION PERIOD - August 13th - September 30th
GIFTING WEEK - October 1st - October 7th
GIFT GUIDELINES BELOW
ART
Minimum requirement is base coloring, and however you deem as "finished".
Rough unintelligable sketches won't be accepted!
FANFIC
Minimum word count is 150 words! No maximum word count.
Unfinished drabbles, oneshots, or chapters won't be accepted! Please at least try to finish it!
ANIMATION/MUSIC
Minimum requirement is at least 30 seconds! No maximum time.
STIMBOARDS
Minimum requirement is at least 3 images/gifs.
All sources must be credited!
WEBWEAVES
Minimum requirement is at least a background with 5 images.
No only text webweaves* allowed!
*NOTE: This means just a blank background with text. Anyone can do this, and it doesn't seem appropiate to gift someone this!
Got a question? Send it through the inbox!
Or simply shoot a message through here or my main @patorucho !
From @riddletransfers exchange, a gift of writing for @itissadbutitsmy-life! Im sry, I was gonna have art to go along with it and i dont think its rly up to my standards life just kicks u in the ass yk? (warning for mentions of panic attacks, trauma, and implied canon complient police brutality(I based it off of my shit school so i hope this isn't like, pushing too far))
It always came back to school, didn't it. If Phil had the option, he would have asked his parents to be homeschooled the day after Quiz died.
But no one else could've either, and somehow, he didn't think it'd help to still have those memories and be isolated from his friends to boot.
Days like these though... Slumping over a desk hoping he could remember anything made him wonder if it would've been better. At least he could've used the same resources as the teachers.
He didn't know anyone in this class, so chances of him borrowing notes was admittedly slim. The class itself, chemistry, wasn't hard in and of itself. Mostly he just copied people's answers to labs and tried to remember enough for the tests. But the teacher requiring constant notes was a pain in the ass, to say the least.
But even if chemistry sucked, and did it ever, Phil could appreciate it for one thing. He could spend this whole class excited for the next one, every day, for forever.
Not that he was particularly excited to do math worksheets for an hour and a half, no. He was excited because it was the only class he had with all of his friends this year.
And to top it all off, the teacher didn't seem to give a shit about what happened as long as the work got done. The only thing they'd ever been told not to do was roast marshmallows over Zach's head, and that was because they set off the fire alarm. She probably wouldn't even notice if they did it again.
Thick as thieves was putting it lightly, and it was probably the only reason Phil understood why teachers assigned group projects themselves instead of letting people chat all class. So maybe chemistry felt like forever, but right afterwards he could chill with his friends and talk about their days and help each other out.
That last one happened more often than not lately. For some inane reason, their school had an extra cop assigned to it. Because kids needed to watch out for more dangerous people, obviously.
It probably wouldn't even have made them worry so much if the bastard didn't decide to wear shades and pretend he was an FBI agent or whatever he wanted to be. They'd seen the real deal and this wasn't it, but it looked close enough to freak them out.
Phred was actually the first one to break last week, hyperventilating into his hands before Smiley ran out to get a paper bag. Phil still didn't know all that had happened, but the cop presumably decided the kid was suspicious for being nervous around him, as if anyone didn't understand why.
A bunch of stutters and sobs and rants later, there were four submitted worksheets, two with Smiley's handwriting, and they had implicit permission to walk Phred down to the councilors office. They stayed there for the rest of the day, helping him work through memories anybody who wasn't present wouldn't believe if their life depended on it.
This kind of thing wasn't uncommon, even before more and more triggers started popping up. Phil still didn't know if triggers was the right word for it, but the probability of finding a therapist that believed any of them was slim to none, so he figured it didn't really matter.
Sure, he could dwell on everything that had happened all he wanted. Wonder what the hell had happened on the government side of things, if they were spared or if they just didn't bother tracking them down, or if something else happened. Either way it would be his fault.
Really, it was all his fault. It overwhelmed him sometimes, with the constant reminder that every panic attack and flinch was his fault. Like the story he didn't really read for English or whatever, with the heart the lady could always hear or feel beating.
But his guilt dragged theirs down, much as the pressure of the tiled hallways. Maybe he should be a poet. He'd have plenty of out there material, that's for sure.
Class bell autopilot must've kicked in, because Phil didn't even realize he was sitting in his usual seat until Phred tapped him on the shoulder.
"Yup, we're dealing with a zombie here," he announced in a deadpan voice. "Someone take him to the nurse and let's see if cough drops can bring back the dead."
"Hey!" Smiley punched Phred's shoulder, but she was grinning and so was Zach. Phil loved to "admit" it, their smiles were infectious.
"Eh, there we go." Zach flicked his face and raised an eyebrow in humor when Phil flinched. The humor was quickly replaced by sputtered indignancies as Phil covered his face with a hand.
"That's what you ge-!" Phil's retort was stopped by Zach licking his hand, giggling as Phil shook said hand desperately. "Grosssss....."
Smiley laughed. "Hey, you spoke! Took long enough." Her light hearted teasing was only punctuated by how she was practically plowing through her worksheets. She got given them all at once at this point, her boundless enthusiasm adding to the notes the teachers inevitably had for her.
Like all of them, she was far from a joy to have in class. Constantly correcting the teacher came at a cost, as it turned out. But unlike the rest of them, she could at least do her work nigh perfectly.
"Still can't convince you to do my work?" Phil jokingly questioned.
"Nope! Gotta earn it, silly!" She hummed back as she worked, scribbling down a correction on the teacher's formatting with a disapproving click of her tongue.
Phred rolled his eyes, but he actually started before the rest of them. So much for ambitionless, Phil supposed. He wasn't heading for top of the class or anything, but he had motivation now. Weird as it felt to him, him of all people, there was a twinge of pride in Phil's chest.
He stuck his tongue back out Zach before starting his work. Zach huffed and started too. As the sound of pencils scribbling filled their corner, one thought filled Phil's head.
He was so, so lucky to be in a real, oppressing as it might be, school, with them all, this time.
