Do I not meet your fangirl expectation?

After you, Geekerella.
I sigh - one BuzzFeed article and you've got a nickname for life, apparently - and wrap my free hand around the door handle. Breathe in, breathe out. The whole world is watching.

I suck at being social. I think one thing and my mouth says something completely different, like I'm possessed. By a whole lot of stupid.

Never give up on your dreams, and never let anyone tell you that what you love is inconsequential or useless or a waste of time. Because if you love it? If that OTP or children's card game or abridged series or YA book or animated series makes you happy?
That is never a waste of time. Because in the end we're all just a bunch of weirdos standing in front of other weirdos, asking for their username.

Maybe we should go on lots of double dates,” Cath said, “and then we can get married on the same day in a double ceremony, in matching dresses, and the four of us will light the unity candle all at the same time.”
“Pfft,” Levi said, “I’m picking out my own dress.

Oh—and Darien?”

“Yeah?”

“Diet. Don’t forget. I think the third floor has a cafeteria.”

I make a face. “Cafeteria food? That’s cardboard, bro.”

“Bro, get a salad.”

I purse my lips. With my new workout regimen and my personal trainer (who reminds me of Wolverine with the personality of a wet cat…so basically just Wolverine), I’ve existed on protein shakes and rabbit food. And chicken. So much chicken I could sprout feathers. And it’s not even seasoned