#who wants to smoke and buy me a burger

[hornymoder]

[tinytennisskirt]

best friend!patrick zweig who is totally not in love with you…

headcanons with a plot <3

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, marijuana, smoking, casual touches, jealousy, and silent yearningggg

- insists that he drives you home even if you’re the slightest bit tired. you yawn at his place- you’re not driving home. he says it’s to keep you safe but really, he just wants more time with you.

“it’s like twenty minutes out, i’ll drive, it’s nothing.”

“i’m perfectly fine to drive! i just yawned, i’m not tired.”

his foot is down. “yeah, that’s not happening.”

“you’re going to take a bus home? patrick…”

“i’ll take a taxi if it makes you feel better?”

“uh huh.”

- he follows the sidewalk rule. he’s never heard of it before but he does it, just on his own.

- saves you the last slice or even bite of anything he’s eating that’s worth it. he orders a really good burger, the very last bit left is yours. ordering a pizza, the last slice is yours. even a slice of cheesecake, the last bite is yours. bonus points to him for making sure the last bite contains all elements of what he had. the burger has all toppings left on the last bite, the cheesecake has the crust and the caramel drizzle, etc.

- doesn’t get why you choose such shitty men to go out with and waste your best dresses for the wrong eyes. he plays it off as caring about you, but he’s jealousss

“i have another date tonight with tony,” you tell him. he looks up from the can of ravioli he’s opening.

“tony with the hair or tony with the fake hair?”

you tsk, “with the hair.”

“the guy with the weird moustache who runs the laundromat? really?”

“he’s nice!”

“just nice shouldn’t cut it. and doesn’t he have the weird butt-chin thing? come on.”

“he treats me well! compliments me, pays for things…”

“yeah okay, with the laundromat money, you’re sure it’s not going on credit?”

by the end of the conversation he’s telling you that you look nice, a little defeated, but he means it. he can’t talk you out of it truly without first admitting he likes you and secondly, admitting to you he likes you.

- he’s always down to spend time with you. he might say he’s busy but he’s not. and when he is, he moves things around just to see you, but he won’t tell you that.

- he buys the drinks you like just to keep them in the fridge. he buys more every time he goes out so the stock of it keeps growing and soon enough it’s taking up two shelves in his fridge.

“i’m going to make something to eat for dinner,” you say, opening the fridge. and the fridge is near-full of your favourite drink. he usually gets it for you, you’d assume he just had a few but no. he has so many. and the thing is, he doesn’t like the drinks. so it’s just really weird. there’s a million of your drinks and then in the empty spaces, ketchup, mustard, milk, ground beef, cheese, and two red peppers next to the can of opened redbull. what for? who knows. you walk back out to where patrick is sitting and he looks up from his phone.

“we can get groceries. don’t have much right now,” he reaches for his keys and you laugh just a little, which stops him. you hold up one of the drinks and he just stares at it, knowing you know about the shelves upon shelves of it. “they were on sale, fuck off.”

- any time you’ve slept at his place he either gives up his bed and sleeps on the couch, or if you fall asleep on the couch you always wake up the next morning with a comfy blanket over you and a proper pillow under your head. he won’t move you, he’s too afraid to wake you. or on nights when you know you’re staying over or even on a whim, he’s used to giving you his clothes to sleep in because he knows you like the fit of them. they’re comfortable.

- without you coming over, patrick wouldn’t do any of his chores. he’s only motivated by the idea that you might come over and think he’s a slob. you already know he’s a slob, but he does a good job at hiding it. it always smells a bit like febreeze when you come over and not that you mind it- it smells good. but it can’t mask the slight cigarette scent and the scent of his cologne which is without a doubt on every surface he’s ever layed on.

- he’s the guy you can go to for honest opinions because he’ll always shamelessly side with you. a fight with a friend who was clearly in the wrong? he doesn’t even try to see the other perspective, he’s on your side no matter what. your ex and his new girl? he thinks she’s ugly and a downgrade and he’s an asshole for posting the grocery store flowers he got for her. he’s jealous, but he’s good knowing your ex fumbled you.

“they’re yellow.”

“he got her yellow chrysanthemums?”

you chuckle and look at him. “you know what flowers those are?”

“saw them the other day at the store. on sale, $5. same ones, look at the wrapping.” he says, pointing at the laptop. “he’s broke and she doesn’t even know it.”

you laugh. he’s glad to hear it.

- when you go out to bars he pays for your drinks. says you deserve it- you do come over and cook all the time so why not?

- patrick is known to crack a few jokes but when you’re serious, so is he. you’re upset? he’s listening, he won’t make fun of you unless he knows it’ll make you feel better. he’ll sit next to you, let you talk, cry, get really angry, get really sad. he’s there. and he’ll comfort you in whichever way you need. it’s his softer side, the one you bring out. lets you lean against him, he’ll even hug you if you ask.

- he’s a GOOD HUGGER. he gives amazing hugs, they are so enveloping, so comfortable. his arms wrap all the way around and not only do his arms squeeze you the perfect amount of tight, but his hands as well. he’s always warm but not hot, and he smells like good cologne and slightly of cigarettes. he’ll take any chance to hug you and you’ll gladly have it.

- struggling not to think about fucking you when you’re trying on dresses for a date. he’s thinking ‘what will these guys think when they see you?’ and his mind is on one thing that they’ll be thinking. but his mind is on it too, when you come out in a little black tube dress and you ask him if it’s too short. it’s too short for sure.

“what about the cleavage though? too much? not enough?”

“hm?” he’s not paying attention to your words.

“the cleavage. too much?”

“yeah. maybe try a turtleneck.”

yeah yeah it’s wrong to think about sex with your best friend, but the dresses, each shorter and showing more skin than the next we’re making him so incredibly horny. he doesn’t do well with that. goes home and fucks his own hand at the thought. helps to distract himself from the fact you’re out on a date with someone else who might actually get to take off that dress :(

- he’ll show up at your place with whatever it is you say you’ve been wanting and he will make a night out of it. wings? he’s at your door with them in an hour. drinks? yeah he stopped for a six pack of whatever he grabbed. he’s always down to get food. you want to go out? he’ll pick you up to go get whatever it is you’ve been wanting. a good excuse to actually work on bulking. not that it’s date-like.

- he’s got a photo of you in his wallet. it’s a platonic thing, he swears to the girl he takes on a date. she’s pretty but she’s not you. the photo of you sitting pretty with a potted plant doesn’t give off ‘available’ and yeah he kisses her but she is not you. he leaves early and calls you on his way back. he’s pretty sure he’s fucked forever because he’s realizing he only wants you.

- he’s protective at parties. he’s already watching you dance and have fun but when you come there with him and start flirting with guys it provokes him just a little more than it would if he were sober. he’ll walk over and slip his arm around your shoulder or even your waist if he’s had enough to drink and he’ll ask the guy how he’s doing and he’s 100% running interference pretending he’s just out of it from the alcohol and it isn’t the fact he’s jealous.

“hey man,” patrick usually greets the guy, hand resting on the small of your back. he’s always got a big smirk on his face, tongue against his cheek. “what’s up?” the move usually scares the guy off and you playfully hit or elbow him, but it’s worth it.

- his doors are always open to you. you have a key if you need it. so when you show up, soaked from the rain, upset over tony the laundromat guy being the dick patrick was so right about him being (despite not knowing the guy at all), he wraps you in his arms and he listens to the whole story. you’re complaining about genuine men being so hard to find and he’s sitting right there. he just brings his hand to rest against his jaw and looks off to the side at something as you continue speaking and he’s listening, he just hates what he’s hearing.

- he’ll take off whatever jacket he’s wearing if you’re cold. he won’t be happy about it- or look happy about it, but he might be a little happy about it… he’ll complain about what he’s going to do in the cold but the sweater or jacket is on you within five minutes of your ask.

- he’ll begrudgingly do whatever you ask of him. like he does not want to get up at 4:50 in the morning and drive to the hilltop to watch the sunrise. he wants to stay asleep, snoring in his bed, but you wake him up and he hates it, but it’s you and it’s the sunset so he goes with you. but in his still-tired state all he can seem to focus on is the light of the sunrise hitting your skin. he’ll either do it super slowly or begrudgingly, sometimes he might even say no. but it never stays a no.

- again. can’t stand that you keep giving your time to men who don’t know how to treat you. he goes to the bar, he drinks about it a little, he talks to the bartender about you. the bartender knows you by name, knows your favourite album, knows you go out with guys who aren’t him, and he knows you’re beautiful, having your features described by a drunk patrick who uses his hands a lot to gesture. it’s weird when you go to the bar with patrick another night and the bartender already knows your name and the drink you want.

- drunk patrick uses all the self control he has not to tell you he wants you. he almost lets it slip with unfinished sentences. does everything he can to fend himself off, but he’s very close to you when he’s drunk, his already-bad spatial awareness so much worse while impaired. his face always close to yours, nose sometimes hitting yours, he comes so close. hands reach for your waist when he’s near you. you don’t mind it- it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. it’s a different feeling. you manage to wrangle him into his bed and make him drink water. he’s talking to you like there are important things you need to know before he absolutely passes out.

“if that tony guy comes around again i hope he knows i owe him a broken nose,” he’ll say and he’s grinning and you’re just rolling your eyes at him, he’s so stupid. “you have to stop dating these guys, fucking douchebags. i know i’m not much better, but at least i don’t wear axe body spray and pick you up in a beat up honda.”

“patrick, you drive a honda,”

“mine isn’t beat up.” he says. so honest. you laugh at him and hand him back the cup of water. but he says it, “you deserve more than that kind of guy. want you to have someone who really gives a fuck, you know?”

“if i could find one,” you say. half-oblivious, half-looking for him to say something that’ll have meaning. it’s the first time his drunk mind is telling him the feeling in his chest is heartache. oh my god, he feels like such a girl- he just grins, dimples on his cheek crawling all the way up. he covers his face.

- when you’re hanging out with mutual friends, smoking, talking, he’s always taking the seat next to you. your friends all know he’s into you- most of them suspect you’re already dating on the down low, the way you guys are so close. you’re sitting on the couch and his arm is up on the back of the couch behind you, your hand sometimes resting on his leg, you have your own conversations on the side and you’re laughing and leaning toward each other. it’s obvious. he’s obvious. YOU are obvious. and oblivious! painfully.

- patrick will shave his beard for your birthday. he’ll trim it regularly but on your birthday he shaves it all off, it’s an annual thing. bare-faced and you find it so so fun to see him without.

- the dress you wear on your birthday is a little too perfect. the mix of you and your hair done and your makeup and the intention of drinking with your girl friends and asking him how you look before you leave. you usually ask him before you go out. he’s going out with you and your friends, but he comes over a little early, just how things are. he’s always honest.

“you look… wow.” he’s looking at you. you’re standing in front of him, little dress, perfectly fit to your body. and you’re smiling, doing a little spin. and you’re beautiful and god you’re so fucking hot. patrick fears for the possibility of his sober thoughts becoming drunk words later. you’re already unbearably fucking beautiful what is he going to do with himself?

- he’s a touchy drunk. not with everyone, not the same way he is with you. when he drinks his hands are magnetic to you, resting on your hands, hand on the small of your back, your waist, your arm. like i said before, you’re used to it, you don’t mind it, but it’s different when he’s staying somewhat sober because he’s afraid of how he’d act if he had more than three shots. he wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with- it’s not that, it’s the fact he’s scared if he drinks tonight that you in your element, dancing, laughing, having fun in that little dress would provoke him to spill all of his secrets. he’s got a stoic form of self-understanding he’s taking to prevent anything dumb from falling out of his mouth under the influence.

- he does, however, fend off the creepy guys or just the assholes who try and buy you more drinks or even talk to you. he won’t let them get so far as to ask for your name. you whine but he just tells you, “you wouldn’t want to talk to them sober.” and you’re like hmm true. the defender position includes closing your tab, getting you home, and getting you inside safely. and usually you take care of him when he’s drunk or high, but he takes the opportunity very seriously. before he’s helped you get to bed but this particular time you’re asking him to undo the zipper on your dress and you’re lifting your hair.

he’s not going to tell you no, so he undoes the zipper and in seconds you’re stripping in front of him unabashedly and he turns around, arms folded, grinning to himself because of course this was happening. he is not an asshole, so he won’t turn around until you’re dressed, but when he turns around you’re only in one of his shirts that he’s been wondering where it went- and your underwear and you’re asking him to come sit with you because it’s still technically your birthday (it’s not).

he will, but he doesn’t want to stick around too long. despite the lack of alcohol, there’s still a pull to tell you how he feels, but that’s girly. and you’re drunk. he puts you to bed after making you drink water.

- he’s the kind of guy to keep a condom in his wallet- he’s never going to use it, it’s probably expired and worn in front his wallet being in his pocket but he has it in there. in fact it’s right behind the photo of you.

- he also has a stolen street sign in his living room from when he was on tour after high school. it’s custom for all guests visiting his place to slap it before they enter the room. if you don’t, there’s no consequences, but it’s just wrong not to. he will, however, catch YOU on it if you forget. holds you to it in whichever way he can.

- he’s totally debating on kissing you almost every time he’s with you. it’s getting progressively worse every time he’s with you he swears he’s going to do it but he doesn’t want to. (he wants to sooo fucking badly, it’s insane). any time you pass him by, every time you say his name, when you sit next to him, when you’re talking to him about anything, engaging with him, looking him in his eyes. it’s a struggle not to.

and you’re friends, longtime friends so the casual touches get to be too much, even. you cup his face with your hands saying he needs to shave and he’s only staring at your lips.

or you sit sideways next to him on the couch facing him and your hand is on his shoulder and you’re so close to him when you talk he really could just reach over and kiss you.

you sit on his counter while he’s making spaghetti and you’re eating the shredded cheese out of the bag and it’s weird but the height your at, it would be perfect.

- you are the cause of his biggest grins and most laughter. you don’t even have to try. he enjoys your company more than anyone else’s. platonically, romantically, in every way. you are his best friend. you get him on a level even art didn’t.

- he’ll pick you up whenever you need him to. doctors appointment, from a friend’s- so when your self-proclaimed final attempt at a date ends up terribly, he’s the first person you call. you’re all pretty for another piece of shit and patrick has to pretend he’s not happy the guy was so weird. you get in the car and his eyes fall on your collarbone and your thighs and you yourself catch it. his eyes. you pull a knowing little look. “shut up,” he says, driving away without even letting you get your seatbelt on.

- he’s not a door holder very often. maybe for old ladies and kids, and the occasional friend, but he’s holding every door open for you. he even opens the car door for you most times. get back to his place, you don’t want to go home yet, he holds the door for you on your way in. you hit the street sign on the wall before flopping down on his couch. it smells like citrusy febreeze and a bit like his cologne. out of his personal needs of restraint, he tosses you one of his comfy shirts and shorts so you can be out of that little dress. and after you take them to his bathroom to get changed, he’s still feeling the same way about the way you look. it was not the dress’ fault.

- the thing with patrick and other women is he’s never been afraid to go up to a girl, hit on her, he’s hardly been afraid to kiss a girl. he’s pretty confident all around but you are so different. the need to kiss you is all-consuming. he wonders if he should talk to you about things first when he’s never considered more than the flavour of a girl’s lip balm in the past. you make him nervous, sitting there in his clothes. i say there, but you’re next to him, hair behind your ears, talking about how you think you’re done with dating and you’re going to wait until the perfect guy falls into your lap. you’re playing some angle but he’s thinking that it’s a good thing. the conversation turns to joking, he’s teasing you, you tease back it’s just normal.

- of course patrick has a snack pantry. if he doesn’t have groceries, he has snacks. at a random point in conversation you tell him you could really go for an oreo right now and he’s so on that. so you both take a trip to the kitchen and you’re looking in the cabinet and you find the oreos and share them while continuing to talk at the counter. you’re going on about how strange your date was and how you felt if you stayed you’d be on a true crime document and the conversation begins to turn to thanking him for coming to get you. but like mentioned before, he’d always come get you. didn’t matter how far you were but he wouldn’t say that.

“it’s different, it’s not like you picking me up from the dentist, it’s you picking me up when i know you were busy.” you say. he smiles because he really wasn’t that busy- he was just out with friends of course he’d drop them for you. “i just want you to know i’m grateful is all.”

“don’t need to be-“ he says with his mouth full of oreo. “it was nothing, i was nearby anyway.” he wasn’t. he sped. in his honda.

“you’re so weird,” you giggle. “why can’t you just be normal about people thanking you for things you do? you go out of your way far too often.”

patrick chuckles to himself, shutting the package of oreos. he doesn’t do it for anyone else. “how do i be normal about it?”

“you could say ‘you’re welcome’, maybe?” you say. he nods. “i say i’m grateful for you and the things you do for the people you care about, namely me and you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

“we’re rehearsing?” he straightened himself as if getting ready and you pressed your hand to your forehead, smiling. “go for it. say how grateful you are for me and the things i do for you. only you.”

“so stupid, just say you’re welcome.” you giggle, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. he grins, a sly grin, dimple on full display, gorgeous. he turns away from you to put away the oreos (if you weren’t there he wouldn’t have put them away). he shuts the cabinet door. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

and he’s met with your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

- the way patrick kisses is very passionately. that’s who he is. he kissed a lot of girls in high school, met a few on tour that were worth making out with. his kisses are full of passion. but this kiss is from you, so he receives it like a gift. surprisingly politely. he’s never ever been caught so off-guard by a kiss. he didn’t see it coming at all. it’s a small kiss, a few seconds of lips fitting together perfectly, but you pull away. his face stays close to yours. he’s never had a kiss like this before. in the crowd of girls he’s ever kissed. it’s never felt like this. and it was so small.

“i’m sorry,” you say, hushed, but you’re smiling, so how sorry are you? he grins and in an instant, you’re kissing again, deeper, more, hands in his hair and his on your waist, holding tight. it’s all he’s thought about for a month on end. there’s something better than drugs and it’s this, patrick thinks. your back against the pantry door, him against you.

- he’s never been so in need of a kiss before. he’s never been kissed like this before. it’s somehow everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s never gotten from every girl he’s ever kissed. and the thing about patrick is, like mentioned, he’s a moderately horny guy but this to him is all he wants. he only wants to kiss you. a few minutes pass and he’s doing something he’s never done and that’s talking it out with you. but as soon as he admits he likes you, he’s telling you to shut up because you’re giggling and it’s adorable and you can’t be calling him out on his crush like that…

- you admit to being a little oblivious and maybe admitting to repressing feelings because you weren’t entirely sure- and he’s instantly on making fun of you for it. he makes fun of himself for not seeing it sooner or for making a move sooner but there’s no room for apologies between another kiss. a kiss full of laughter where you just can’t stop laughing but you also won’t stop kissing him and it’s kind of perfect.

[undead-supernova]

HIGH TOLERANCE

Only 10mg / Masterlist

Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

warnings: so much angst, a night gone wrong, more (derogatory) Steve, Gertrude (extra derogatory), Delta-9 gummies

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: dates aren't always what you want them to be...let alone with people who you don't really want to be on dates with

wc: 4k

song inspirations: VOID by Melanie Martinez, We Are Nobody Else by Lady Lamb

“What do you mean you haven’t seen any movies this year?”

“I mean, I’ve seen movies. I just haven’t found anything I thought was interesting in the last eight months.”

“What do you watch then?”

This morning you actually found someone on Hinge named Gertrude and by the afternoon you were on a lunch date. And you’d thought they were cute when you met up at Grub Burger, like really cute, with thin-rimmed rectangular glasses and a long dark braid down their back. They had a soft voice and an even softer smile…but it was quickly starting to go downhill.

Every question they threw at you felt like an investigation where you were wrong every single time, as if your preferences weren’t good enough. Even the lack of movies you’d seen.

In your defense, you usually went to the movie theater if Eddie asked. He was really good at guessing when a movie’s going to be worthwhile (and you weren’t). He never once disappointed. He’d also never taken you to a movie without at least giving you something of the cannabis persuasion and buying a large popcorn for you to share. 

Sometimes he even bought your ticket.

Which you always pretended were dates like the desperate woman you were.

“Yeah, I really like 2000s movies,” you replied, shrugging. “I’ll pop on a Seth Rogan film every once and a while. Like, I know they’re a little outdated or whatever, but they’re fun. Oh, especially if you smoke some weed. Then it’s super funny. Like, This Is The End? It’s just cool to see all these actors—"

“I mean, they’re, like, super problematic,” Gertrude interrupted.

You nodded. “No, I know,” you agreed, scratching at your neck. “I know. It’s not the best, but like, I recognize that. I don’t think it’s all funny. And it’s not just Seth Rogan, there are other genres like dramas and fantasy and horror. Have you heard of the movie The Invisible? It’s about this guy who dies and is a ghost and can’t talk to anyone and finds out he—”

“I just thought because you’re queer, you’d have better standards for the media you consume.”

Pausing, you felt yourself deflate. You shrugged again, wondering how this conversation was turning into something else entirely. “I mean, I think you could argue that every piece of media is problematic, depending on the way you look at it. If you acknowledge that the media you like is flawed, you’re still allowed to enjoy it. It’s not that hard.”

Gertrude gave you that judgmental look again, pushing their fork around their French fries. “Agree to disagree. Anyways, maybe you should ask me a question now.”

As if I had had any chance to ask anything since we sat down.

“Uh, okay. What’s your favorite color?”

Gertrude finally smiled for the first time since you’d greeted each other. They really were pretty. There was just something so grating about their attitude…

“I think I like a soft yellow, something bright and cheery.”

You nodded, trying to seem more interested than you were. Some part of you even felt like laughing. “Yeah, yellow’s a good color. Very vibrant. Makes you happy.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe black? Red?”

Steve sighed, scratching his bare thigh before going back to his cherry and goat cheese ice cream. Eddie merely stared down at his cream puff flavor, unsure as to why he thought this date would be a good idea. He’d suggested they go out to get ice cream (definitely not to distract himself from what was probably happening across town with someone who he definitely wasn’t thinking about). 

But Steve didn’t remotely hesitate, making Eddie think that maybe that was a sign. He was in it now. They were getting somewhere…

If only it hadn’t started going downhill just from asking basic questions that they somehow hadn’t thought of in the last however many years of knowing each other.

“Ah, come on, Eddie. You can’t say red!”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, trying not to get irritated. “Why not?” he asked. “It’s a color. That was part of the assignment.”

“I just feel like it’s a little stereotypical for you.”

“Why, ‘cause I like metal?” Eddie guessed with a sigh sitting in the back of his throat. He was careful not to release it.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replied. Like it was obvious. Like it was stupid. “Precisely.”

“Okay, then what’s yours, big guy?”

“Probably red or green,” you answered. “Not a soft green. More like a deep emerald?”

“Like Christmas?”

You shook your head. To give them credit, it was a common question you got whenever anyone cared enough to ask.

Well, except for one person...

“Well, no. I wouldn’t consider myself someone who likes Christmas all that much.”

“Let me guess, your favorite holiday is something weird, like St. Patrick’s Day.”

What the hell was this person even talking about? Were they hearing themselves talk?

You successfully suppressed your sigh before you decided to answer honestly. “Uh, my favorite holiday is Halloween.”

“Next you’re gonna tell me your favorite holiday is Halloween.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, because it is.” What was Steve even talking about? Why was he suddenly being so fucking judgmental? “Let me guess, your favorite is Christmas,” he bit back.

Steve laughed, oblivious to Eddie’s venom. “Yeah, the lights are cool. The hot chocolate with the peppermint in it. Oh, and the snow. You can layer everything. I mean, it’s cute. Plus,” he stopped, clearly trying to make his next sentence sound less rude. “I just think Halloween is a little…meh.”

“Meh?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What beef do you have with Halloween?”

“It’s just a little overdone, don’t you think?”

You shook your head, appalled as to why they didn’t get how important the holiday was. 

“No, I think it’s about expressing yourself and becoming something more than what you are. It gives kids a moment of exploration of themselves and creativity. Not to mention its importance for queer people and how they can have one night where they can be themselves—"

“—without the scrutiny of the public. We could walk out in drag or anything feminine whatsoever and it’s not considered threatening, even if that’s shitty in and of itself. But it’s still that opportunity.” Eddie smiled to himself. “That chance. It’s bringing a sense of fucking safety that’s otherwise missing.”

Steve nodded before he shrugged, scraping at the bottom of his cup. “Yeah, you make a good point. I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that.”

Eddie forgot that he and Steve never really had conversations like these. It was usually you who he could talk to for hours on end, deconstructing what it meant to live and how everything was about perspective. Inebriated, sober—it didn’t matter. Like those days at the aquarium, you were able to see the bigger picture at the end of the day. You talked about stuff like this without even having to be asked.

That ticket still sat in his wallet. He always took it out whenever he needed a pick-me-up. It gave him a spark of hope that life could change for the better if someone like you existed.

Steve kept talking, but Eddie was pulling out his wallet and running his fingers over the ticket like it would bring you here and he could have you here instead. 

As you and Gertrude fell into silence, you put your hand in your skirt pocket, feeling the smoothness of Eddie’s yellow pick. Tracing the edges, you wondered what it felt like for him to run it down his strings. How it fit in his fingers. 

How he was doing.

Where he was.

If he was available.

You looked at Gertrude, watching them scroll through their TikTok feed, volume up, before you stood and grabbed your purse.

“I have to go.”

Eddie watched Steve reach the very bottom of his cup, hoping there was a way for him to slip in a reason to leave. Because, holy shit, this was a piss poor excuse for a date.

He looked back over at the long line forming at the door, knowing you would die to have a cup of the wildberry lavender flavor. You were a big fan of Jeni’s Ice Cream and always gave him grief whenever he went without you. It was kind of funny how your face would screw up as you yelled at him for being a traitor. He nearly chuckled at the memory. 

And it suddenly hit him that he was way more concerned with his thoughts of you.

How your date was going.

Where you were.

If you were available.

Fuck having a good enough reason to leave.

“Can we go?”

You basically sprinted to your car, barely registering how rude you had just been. You didn’t say goodbye, didn’t even give them an excuse. But you argued to, well, yourself that telling them some shitty excuse would be ruder than not saying anything at all. 

All you wanted was to talk to Eddie and tell him about how awful your date was. How mean Gertrude was and how confused you were about what the hell you’d done to deserve their scrutiny.

Sighing, you scrambled into the front seat and tossed your phone onto the passenger seat.  Pulling out Eddie’s guitar pick, you tried to calm yourself down. You studied the brand, the tiny tortoise outline with the shell replaced with the Tortex brand name. It read that it was a Dunlop, 50mm. Smooth. Thin. The kind Eddie always said he preferred, always said it hit the strings so magically. Said it rang out the bottom E string, like it was trying to reach the heavens and got there every time. 

And there was your eyeliner, ruining it.

You shook your head, resigning to the fact that you probably should just go home and isolate yourself for a while. Try and figure out how the hell you were supposed to be normal around Eddie and Steve the next time you saw them together.

Is that how it’s going to be now? you wondered, feeling nausea pool in your stomach. Are they going to be a package deal? Is that something I could survive?

For how long?

Before you could even start your car, your phone started going off. As soon as you saw Eddie’s picture pop up, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” he breathed, sounding as exhausted as you felt.

“Hey, hello,” you replied, trying to calm yourself down. “Hi. I was actually about to call you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I just had the worst date ever,” you grumbled, trying to rub the eyeliner off the pick.

“Me, too.”

You sat up straighter, shoving the pick back in your pocket. “Really?”

“God, yeah. I’m never going to Jeni’s without you again.”

“You went to Jeni’s without me?” With Steve, you felt like adding. 

But you were going to be good. Just this once.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Like I said, I’m never going without you ever again.” You let out an irritated huff. “Listen, Weirdo, would you mind if I came over and we took some edibles and, like, watched a movie?”

Thank God.    

“Yes, please.”

“See you in twenty?”

You smiled. “See you in twenty. Traitor.”

Eddie had gotten back to your apartment at the same time as you, both fighting for the closest parking spot with playful honks. You may have almost hit his van. And he could (maybe) admit that he almost deserved it.

“That’s rude,” he said as he hopped down from the van. “That’s just—”

He stopped as he finally got a look at you. Because it wasn’t even fair anymore, the way you just being you flustered him. Just standing next to your car with a simple Joan Jett t-shirt tucked into a short skirt and black Converse. Some sword earrings. And fishnets. Fucking fishnets.

Did he mention that you were wearing a different pair than the night before?

How many do you fucking own?

“That’s just what?” you asked, looking confused.

Eddie had to get a grip. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep losing his focus whenever you were around. Hell, he was already losing his focus when you weren’t. When you were looking like this, it made everything worse. Much, much worse. 

He shook his head before poking your shoulder. “Extremely rude.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away, starting the short walk up to your apartment. “Hey, you asked me to hang and then you tried to steal my favorite parking spot? Where are your manners?”

“I think we both know I lost those years ago.”

“Okay, weirdo,” you said.

“Uh, what did you just call me?” Eddie asked playfully, clasping his hand over his chest. 

A giggle escaped your lips as you ascended the stairs, making his smile widen.

“You heard me!” you exclaimed as you quickened your pace up the steps. “And I will not be taking it back!”

The two of you bickered like always, going back and forth with seemingly no end to each bit that you started and never truly seemed to finish. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t help himself around you, always excited to hear what you had to say or what you wanted to do. Anything you wanted, because any opportunity to be around you was an opportunity worth taking.

You decided to heat up leftover soup for you both, maneuvering around the kitchen while you complained about the weather and your upstairs neighbor who was taking all the warm water these days despite the scorching heat.

Eddie wouldn’t admit it, but he was having a hard time paying attention to your words. How could he when your hands were waving around the air and putting your hair up? How in the hell was he supposed to pay attention when you decided to run chapstick over your lips? Or when you bent down to take your shoes off, skirt riding up just enough to reveal the lining of red underwear? And how was he supposed to feel normal when you were wearing the cutest fucking socks, with black cats sporting witch hats next to a brewing cauldron? 

“I’m gonna go pick out a movie,” Eddie said suddenly, backing away from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” you said absentmindedly as you fiddled with the microwave. “That’s a really good idea. What’re you gonna put on?”

“No idea,” he lied. “Absolutely no idea.”

After you finished the chickpea and sausage soup, you and Eddie popped 10mg Delta-9 gummies and decided to chill on the couch. As soon as Eddie pressed play on your remote, you immediately knew it was the opening to When Harry Met Sally. Like always. 

But it wasn’t like you were paying attention. If anything, you were talking over it like you were in a crowded room. Small talk here and there until you were unable to keep your questions to yourself.

“So, you said your date with Steve didn’t go well,” you said. “Do you want to maybe talk about it?”

Eddie groaned, throwing his hands over his face. You may have taken the opportunity to stare at him, how his tattoos were visible. He’d shown up in his jean jacket but discarded it as if he was taunting you with only a black tank top and jeans. His guitar pick necklace around his neck. Rings. Threaded bracelets and watch. That fucking nail polish…

Focus, you told yourself. Just focus.

“I don’t know…” he trailed, biting his lip.

“I’ll share mine if you share yours,” you suggested.

A sigh left his lips before he gave in. “He thought it was predictable that I liked black and Halloween.”

“Has he even met you?” you asked, scoffing. “Of course you do. That’s, like, your whole thing. It’s not predictable, it’s just who you are.”

“I know! It was so weird. We’ve known each other since high school. I don’t know how he didn’t know that already. Rob knows more than him, apparently.”

“She’s extremely observant,” you noted.

Too observant.

“That’s a good...observation.” Now it was your turn to groan, making Eddie laugh before he added, “Now’s your turn, Weirdo.”

Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time. So what does that say about me?

“I got absolutely slammed for my shitty 2000s comedies.”

“But Michael Cera is a visionary…” he trailed, confused.

“Well, apparently they’re all problematic and I’m damaging our community.”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. So is everything else. Besides, you don’t even laugh at the bad stuff. It’s like eating around a bad food you like. It’s not like the whole plate is bad, right? Most of it’s good.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaimed, throwing your hand up. “It’s like eating at Waffle House. You know it’s not going to be the best meal you’ve ever had, but damn if those waffles don’t hit the spot every time. Especially when you’re fucked up.”

“You get it! You may be the smartest person I’ve met.”

“Or maybe the dumbest.”

“Nah, you’re pretty intelligent…when you want to be.”

“Ouch!” you said, grabbing one of your throw pillows and whacking him with it. “Take that.”

Before you could take another shot, he took the pillow from you and hit you back. “You deserved that one, Weirdo.”

You fell into gentle laughter, shaking your head at him before you sighed and leaned your head on the back cushion. Eddie readjusted, also leaning his head back so he could make eye contact with you. He wrapped his arms around the pillow, hugging it to his chest.

For a moment, you just kind of sat there and looked at him. Watched his eyes flicker back and forth between yours while you did the same. Studied the brown, the way his pupils dilated as you kept staring at each other. You couldn’t say how long that lasted before you finally said something.

“I just don’t think it’s supposed to be this hard.”

 “What, dating?” he asked, tightening his grasp on the pillow.

“Yeah.”

He nodded, letting out a hum. “I don’t think so, either.”

You looked away from Eddie’s gaze to find him fiddling with the pillow’s black fringe, clearly anxious about something. It was exactly how he played with his lighter or tapped his leg. Rapid, incessant. Finding his bearings through the texture as if it could keep his attention longer than a few seconds.

And then he said your name, bringing your eyes back to his.

“Should I keep seeing Steve?” he asked.

This time you were the one readjusting, feeling yourself scoot even closer to him. Your legs were touching, the blanket seeming to slip halfway off you two. But neither of you moved to fix it. 

“Does Steve make you happy?”

“I…I don’t know.” He let out a staggered breath. “I think so.”

And you tried not to, but your leg was slipping further down his calf. Blanket be damned—you were already starting to burn.

“Tell me something. Why do you always put When Harry Met Sally on?” you asked, trying to steer away from the subject of Steve Harrington. Trying to distract yourself from the heat building inside you. Trying to distract yourself from thinking something stupid. “I thought the second Lord of the Rings movie was your favorite. The Two Towers.”

He shrugged. “No, yeah. The Two Towers is my favorite. I just think I’ve just always related to When Harry Met Sally. Always missing my chances, opportunities. Always just one step away from getting what I want.”

Was Eddie getting…closer?

You raised an eyebrow. “Missing your chances?”

And why was he staring at your mouth?

“Yeah.”

But weren’t you also staring at his?

“Are you, um, Harry?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from doing something stupid. “Or are you Sally?”

Why was he so close to making you do something stupid?

“Depends on the day,” he said, softer this time.

And why was he leaning closer, searching your eyes for some kind of confirmation that this was okay?

And why were you about to let him?

“What do you want?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Eddie didn’t answer, the hum of Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal being the only sound left in the room other than your shared breathing. 

“What has she done? She makes desserts.”

It was growing heavier the closer he got to you, maybe the closest you’d ever been since you met. And it was so strange, the way he affected you.

“You all went to a Met game together?”

Your fingers reached out, searching for his. Found it on his thigh, also reaching for yours. Fingers touching, itching to twine. And it was so strange, the way he moved you.

“But Sally hates baseball.”

And there Eddie was, leaning in more and more, his breath seeming to intoxicate you the more it fanned over your face.

“Harry doesn’t even like sweets.”

But it was dangerous, the way he could break you.

His lips just barely brushed yours before you pulled back.

“No,” you said.

“What?” Eddie asked, leaning back. “Are you okay?”

All you could think about was Steve. Eddie literally just told you he was happy with Steve and then he was going to, what, kiss you? What business did he have doing that? And what business did you have being a homewrecker?

“I think you should go,” you said sternly, throwing the blanket off and standing.

Eddie looked up at you like he was confused. As if he wasn’t just trying to do something incredibly stupid.

“What? Really?”

You walked over to the opposite end of the living room, desperate to stay the hell away from him. Because there was some part of you that was wondering how stupid kissing him would really be. But maybe if you stayed as far away from him as possible, you wouldn’t be tempted. You couldn’t be. 

“Yep.”

Eddie shook his head, standing. “What just happened here?” he asked. “Like, seriously.”

You shook your head. “I just want you to go, Eddie. Okay?”

“No, not okay. Jesus H Christ,” he huffed, throwing the pillow on the couch. “You can’t just kick me out and not even tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You should figure that one out for yourself. You’re probably too high anyway,” you said, maybe a little too bitterly.

“It was only ten milligrams,” he emphasized. “And maybe, just maybe, I need to be given some clear fucking communication.”

“You’ll figure it out.” 

He gave you a hard stare. “Really? Is this really what you’re doing right now?”

“What?” you pushed. “What am I doing?”

Say it, you thought. Eddie, please just say it.

“Maybe you should figure that one out for yourself,” he mocked.

And before you could figure out how to respond, Eddie turned away from you. He stomped over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his keys and wallet before walking towards the door.

“For the record,” he said, turning back to look at you in the eye. “I’m completely sober. You of all people should know I have a high tolerance.”

Eddie opened the door and slammed it right behind him.

Eddie couldn’t stop his thoughts firing at a rapid pace as he nearly sprinted to the van. He was going to pass out, he was so sure of it this time. Hell, he was dying. He had to be dying. There was no way he was going to survive this.

The kiss. The fucking kiss. He was going to kiss you. He was actually going to do it.

Eddie’s fingers trembled as he tried to unlock the driver’s side. But the keys slipped from his fingers, clanging onto the asphalt. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, barely able to fight against whatever was grabbing hold of his throat and tightening its grasp. Shaking his head, he leaned his back against the driver’s side door. “Shit.”

Eddie clutched his chest for real this time, feeling his heart race. The panic was flooding his system, tears pricking at his eyes as he tried to focus on the breeze. The white noise of it moving through the trees. The stupid fucking squirrel nearly getting run over as someone barreled through the speed bumps. Your fucking Halloween socks.

This was going wrong. All of it. Every single last scrap of dignity he had was gone. He blew it. He fucking blew it.

If he was stronger, he would turn back around and bang on your door. Demand that you talk about this and tell you how your shared avoidance was going to be the death of any and all chance at a relationship. Kiss you the way he knew he could, knew he would. 

Because there was no way, no way, that nothing was happening between you two. 

He knew it. You knew it.

If only he was strong enough.

And it was occurring to him that he didn’t feel this way about Steve. If anything, he could never feel this way about him. And, frankly, he was starting to truly understand that it had nothing to do with Steve. It was everyone. He would never be able to feel this way about anyone else.

This time, Eddie couldn’t shake that off.

This time, Eddie knew that something had to change.

You couldn’t help but hope he’d turn back. That he’d walk right back in and kiss you the way you knew he could, knew he would if he wanted you like that. And maybe he did want to kiss you, you couldn’t say. But why would he continue to see Steve, bringing him up in nearly every conversation if he wanted you? What would be the point of that?

You were more confused than ever, finding yourself haunted by the scene playing on the TV behind you.

“What’s the matter with me?” Sally exclaimed.

“Nothing,” Harry said softly.

“I’m difficult!”

“You’re challenging,” he countered.

You fell back on the couch, sobbing as you listened to Harry and Sally go back and forth, nearly taunting you with how fucking accurate it was. How fucking accurate everything around you was, from music to movies and back again. 

“No, no, no! I drove him away!”

This was your fault, and now you had to live with those pesky little consequences you hadn’t thought of. You drove Eddie away and now you had no idea how much longer you had before he would fade into a stranger, a fever dream of what once was. And a reminder of what could’ve been.

[infernalodie]

𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 || 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭

"𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘖𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦"

Inspo: Kamal. - people don't change - demo

Pairing: Rue Bennett x Black!Male!reader

Summary: Maybe you had held out for hope for no reason...

Warnings: Reader and Rue dated prior to Jules ever arriving, drug abuse, and a lot of angst.

Words: 1253

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR SENSITIVE TO THE WARNINGS ABOVE!

At the heart, you wanted to believe Rue was trying to get clean. Indeed, you wouldn’t be a friend if you didn’t believe it. What made it hard was sitting in this parking lot, standing by the counter to grab your guys’ food and knowing precisely what she was doing inside your car. A powdered line along your phone case with a rolled-up bill in hand. Her shame had no limits.

And you weren’t going to try and act high and mighty because you’ve done your fair share of drugs. But you didn’t let them take ahold of your life like Rue has.

But who were you to judge? It’s not like you were someone that had control in her life. You were a mere ex-boyfriend and only recently she had befriended you again after the two of you caught up from the few months of her being in rehab.

You didn’t know how to navigate around the clear issue she had been sent to deal with. And the people in her life, like Fez, weren’t exactly helping. Him giving her drugs after knowing about her going to rehab set her back at square one. The difference was he cared about her, unlike most drug dealers. So, you could respect him for that.

Once again; what could you possibly even do?

Grabbing the bag of food, you walked to the vehicle. Rue noticed your approach and slipped out with a tired smile. “I’ve been needing this.”

You smiled. “I’m glad I can be of service.” Handing her the food, you moved to the other side of the car and took your own out.

“Yeah, man. Mom’s been on my ass about these drugs and shit. I can barely be able to go out anymore without her throwing a drug test in my direction.” She took a bite of her burger, humming in satisfaction.

A groan fell from your lips that hadn’t been intentional but simply slipped out. “Here we go again.”

Hearing that made Rue frown. Her lips twitched in a confused grin with her head tilting slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Taking a bite out of your burger, you grabbed a napkin and wipe your lips. “You’re always complaining. Why does everyone keep walking out of my life? Maybe you keep pushing them away? Perhaps you’re the problem.”

Rue scoffed, shaking her head. “I don’t complain, man. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that.”

“That’s all you do, Rue,” you laughed. “You don’t realize it, but when you were gone, Leslie had me driving Gia to school instead of the bus and I get to hear all about that shit.” Rue, of course, hadn’t known this considering the two of you ended things on a harsh note with her slapping you in front of the entire football team. Now, you weren’t going to take the full blame because you had yelled at her for deciding to skip out on your game to do drugs. And your anger came from your worry, but she hadn’t seen it that way and it resulted in her cutting all ties to you. “You complain and complain about your circumstances and why it won’t get easier. You say you want “change” but you don’t want to change.”

“Pretty high and mighty coming from the asshole smoking weed in front of me,” Rue pointed out, snarky. “If I had recovered at rehab, you would be the cause of me going back to drugs. You ever think about that?”

You smiled, leaning your arms on the roof of the vehicle and saying, “I wouldn’t if I knew you were off of them but I hear everything from Fez. You completely forget that I buy my shit from him.”

She looked about ready to walk away just so this didn’t ruin her high. But you continued, keeping her shortening care to listen. “Rue, you aren’t unique, all right? If I have to be the one to tell you, then I will. But you are just like every addict in this world that is struggling just like you. They had something happen in their lives that put them down the same path as you.” Sighing, you tapped your hand on the roof of your vehicle and said, “The difference is people in your life care and have been trying everything to help you, but you won’t accept it.”

“Why do you even care?” Rue asked.

Exhaling deeply, you said, “Because for a time, I loved you and I still care about you enough to tell you when you are being a jackass. And maybe I had hope that you would get better and go back to who you were before all this shit.” She stared at you for a few moments, perhaps thinking. Whether she was or not, you glanced away before popping open the door. “But then again, I don’t mean jack shit.” And you left her with that hanging statement for most of the ride.

Life had its way of working things out and you were sure that in some way, your words would come to reality for Rue. There hadn’t been malice for years and your intentions weren’t to destroy her. But you saw the only way she could heal was to crumble and repair afterwards. There could only be so much pain and torment she could take before she had to look for a way to pivot to either keep herself safe or keep the people she cared about in her life. And you hoped she found it sooner than later because you could already see the aftermath of her decisions if she kept down this road.

Pulling up outside of her house, you placed the car in park and allowed your hands to fall by your thighs. Leaning your head back into the cushioning of the headrest, exhaling softly.

Rue shifted from time to time, clearly wanting to express her thoughts. She could get out of the car and walk away with the remnants of resentment she’d held against you for years. But she didn’t. She sat there, uncomfortable in her thoughts that she couldn’t put together well enough to make a coherent and important statement.

Sighing, you said, “I know you don’t care about what others think Rue and I can’t change your mind. I am just an ex-boyfriend that you dated for a little while. I can accept that.” Turning toward her, you shook your head. “But your mom, Gia, Fez, Maddy–everyone fucking cares. The last thing anyone wants to see is your face on the early morning news dead from an overdose. I don’t want to see that shit.”

Rue chewed on her bottom lip, nodding to herself. As she went to grab the door handle, she stopped, looking back at you and muttering, “You know, I’m sorry about us-”

“Don’t.” Rue watched as you shook your head, glancing at her. “You don’t need to go digging into the past to apologize to me when you should be focused on the road ahead. It’s embarrassing.”

Again, harsh. But needed. And for the first time since the start of the argument, Rue didn’t bite back or protest. Almost agreeing. Because it was despicable how she desperately tried to indirectly apologize. Especially for something she knew she didn’t deserve the opportunity to apologize for. “It’s in the past and you found someone new and I’m happy for you.” Unlocking her door, you sighed. “Just don’t go ruining it like we did with our relationship.”

[iminyournotis]

I was thinking, "I don't even have any friends to be honest with, or tell my shit to, because everybody seems to have some kind of stake in my personal business," but then I remembered TUMBLR EXISTEDDD, so here I am.

1. Ended up snooping on my NINETEEN year old coworker last night because he skipped out on BK with me after work, and I got UNREASONABLY possessive, noticing that he was talking to the new girl at work, and I thought no WAY he's fucking her... She just started. (And he made a WHOOOLE thing to me abt how he doesn't want to hook up-- he just wants to find someone he loves and 'make love'. ((I was all, 'You're completely valid.' and then look at the camera like I'm in The Office then do the finger loop crazy sign at my head's temple, crossing my eyes. LOL.))) So I pulled back up after I finished getting BK alone because I was salty as hell and overly curious, and they were still there an hour and ten after close... I honestly scared them and embarrassed myself and I tore off.

2. Went to the gas station beforehand, because I had started smoking cigarettes again like a day or two ago, because I've been stressed about having Seb cock block his brother from me (and potentially for me. It's complicated.) and it lowkey feels like Caleb ALLLL over again, and it's making me lose my mind, so I'm back to stressedly chuffing.

Went to buy a pack, and this dude hollered in the gas station. I hollered back.

We were talking, I give him my phone number, I told him I'm willing to hook up, he's like 'alright, cool... Maybe pick me up later cause I need a whip,' I'm like, 'Okay.' Cue Burger King and checking where I shouldn't.

3. Go back to my parents' house and dude texts me asking if I was trying to link up... It's late, I tell him yeah anyway. I have work at 8:30, and it's already 11 or midnight by the time we're messaging each other. I end up pulling up to this bar I've never been to around midnight, and I end up taking him and his friend to get blazed out in a parking lot somewhere. Dude I was gonna hook up with doesn't smoke za, but his friend does. I get high and immediately get scared, because now I'm OVI, and I have two young Black men in my vehicle with me, and I get scared that some awful shit was fixing to happen, so I go, 'I'M GETTING YOU BOTH HOME SAFELY. I'm not pulling out until our seat belts are fastened, etc.' Went full mom mode. (Also, at this point, the young man I was with was 22, and his friend was 21. They thought I was younger than even them, which was hilarious. So another predatory woman moment for Mama.)

Drop 21 off. Go to drop 22 off next, but he takes me to this outfield out the way... We park, talk some; he hits it and as he's getting out of the backseat, I go, "Wait, did you finish?" He very non-chalantly said "Yeah," as he's putting his pants back on. I go, "... Did you cum inside me?" He responds pretty deadpan "Yeah." I'M LIKE "WHAT? Did you even plan on telling me???" He goes, "I mean, yeah." I was stunned. He's like, "I mean, you can take a Plan B if you don't feel safe." NFJSJFHJDN I was losing my mind. NOT the fucking point. He's like "Are you mad at me?" I'm like, "TO be honest, yeah."

I drive him back home, he forgets something in my car, I pull back around, he's tryna get me to stay at his mom's house with him for the night (which he pays rent at), I say no. I drive off. He goes, 'Actually, I forgot my hat, too.' I was like 10 minutes down the road and closer to home by the time I saw this message, so I'm like 'Man, I'm keeping it now. Sorry.' He's like, 'alright it's fine. lol.'

End scene. Oh, actually not, because by the time I get back into my city/town, it's like 3:30 AM. I didn't even wash my clothes, I still needed to shower, I haven't really been eating for the last week, so I thought, 'Fuck it. I'm calling off.'

Haven't called off a single time since starting, even through this lowkey nasty cold I had a few weeks ago. So my manager, who I'm WAY too involved with, was like 'wtf?? You're just not coming in?' I'm like yeah. She's like "What's your reason." All investigative. I'm like "Not been eating well. It's for my health." She goes, "Get well." I'm such a fucking loser.

So then I woke up like an hour ago at three PM, and here I am. ❤️ What the fuck is going on with my life, though.

[degenrcy]

only i can hurt you (chapter 2)

same warnings as last one but with more highlight on the ed part of the relationship! 

you two were out grocery shopping for the league with a whopping budget of barely 120 dollars. it was getting hot out, summer not just rolling but suddenly jumping you from around the corner with multiple day long heat waves predicted for the next 2 weeks. this meant no one wants to smoke drugs in a non-air-conditioned in an already heated car. this meant dabi and shigaraki weren't making much on their deals. this meant 120 dollars for groceries. for a house full of adults.

minus you two of course. "it's perfect tomu, we don't have enough for all of us so me and you can just... not eat for a little. nothing we can't handle, right tomu?" you clung to his skeletal form, instinctually running your hands up and down the length and wrapping your fingers around different parts of his arm. it was self-soothing yet a burdening reminder you two were only centimeters apart when it came to gaps and circumfrences of limbs and calories and weight and food and disgust and fat and-

"don't call me that in public. good idea i guess," he sighed, then motioned to the shelves of the current aisle you were in. "but look. we buy two packs for 12 dollars and we can get another THREE for free. i can be set for like, 2 weeks more if we invest in this."

you scowled, tugging him away into a different aisle. shigaraki was addicted to every diet soda out there, making it his mission to try every flavor before he dies as if he has 3 months left to live. full sugar soda was his vice when you two first met, cliche mountain dew drinking gamer with fast food bags inside more fast food bags inside grocery store plastic bags- he was disgusting. his teeth were nothing short of rotting and yellowed. but he was skinny. unintentionally omad-ing a burger and fries with a bunch of soda to wash it down after going days with either snacks and energy drinks or nothing at all when he was grinding out gameplays. you had grown up trying every sort of diet and eating all types of food but god has cursed women for eternity and blessed shigaraki tomura and every other male you've known with statistic-breaking metabolisms and simple cravings.

the only thing that ever worked for you was him. someone else's force. him forcing you to not eat by keeping you in his room for days. forcing you to purge those fries you got because can you imagine how much fat is actually in there? they don't weigh your food out, and look, all the fries are different sizes. the calories aren't gonna be accurate, you know that. it was fun to eat, but now all that salt is gonna make you look fat. actually, be fat. you're fat. go to the fucking bathroom and get that disgusting shit out of your stomach before you get fatter. by making you feel so horrible about yourself, you couldn't even stomach the thought of eating anything with sustenance.

you tossed a couple boxes of gauze and this really good disinfectant cream you two use, a lot, in the cart. sometimes he cuts you- one for every extra piece of food over your limit, every pound gained or not lost within acceptance, for even suggesting eating. how else would you have learned without him? without shigaraki's love and dedication to you, you'd be lost. and fat.

you tossed in some of toga's requested items- this new organic ramen cup rip off that was 2 dollars more expensive than being normal. a new pack of razors- but in an artistic way. toga likes to make art pieces with razors. and blood. who's blood? no one asked. everyone knew. some fruit went in the cart that everyone could enjoy. a lot of sale-priced store brand microwavable foods followed. cucumbers and pickles were the only vegetables you and shigaraki could handle. salad was to expensive. the biggest budget-denter was all of jin's mass amounts of protein. chicken, turkey, protein bars, protein powder, protein drinks, shit you guys didn't have money for anyways. you could only buy a nice pack of chicken for him. some tofu for dinner and broth.

"he can buy the rest with his gym-guy money. we don't owe him." you tugged on shigaraki's hoodie again, and he jerked his shoulder away from you. you gripped his forearm, and he frowned. haha, shigaraki, you can't hurt women in public.

by the time you guys got home, everyone was there.

"when the fuck did we all get days off, huh?" shigaraki yelled as he entered the house with two packs of strawberry flavored diet coke. he won that argument, judging by the three shakily stacked up in your arms. dabi got up from his permanent spot on the couch and the smoke around him twisted and curled until it reached the open door. they dapped eachother up, as boys do, dabi handing off the blunt without missing a beat to your boyfriend and showing him something on that god-forsaken beat up iphone 7. you couldn't really tell what was going on, didn't care much, just focused on bringing in the last few bags. you heard some expressions of disbelief, some anger, some laughing.

"i gotta kill her." dabi was saying as you put the final bag down, taking a few moments to catch your breath. you felt like you were gonna pass out.

"shit, i'd kill mine too if she did that." they were both leaning against the wall now, you could tell they were trying to inconspicuously get to the couch to knock out.

"shiiiiit," dabi ashed the blunt on the floor, then pointed to shigaraki with it. "you'd kill yours for breathing too fat."

there was an awkward moment of silence for you, followed by the two guys laughing their asses off and shigaraki not disagreeing.

"hey," you panted. "can you help clean out the cabinents?"

they looked at your hunched over form, hands on your knees, panting like a dog. and laughed at you. dabi slapping his thighs while he died of laughter and shigaraki stomping his boots against the floor, also laughing, also driving the ash further into the grains of the wood.

"gotta kill you now, y/n. out of breath over one set of stairs." he shook his head, giving one last hit to the blunt before letting dabi finish it. "fat bitch. clean this place up yourself." he spat, pulling off his hoodie after carefully peeling it away from his arms. your eyes started to well with tears, stinging. you pulled off your own hoodie, setting it on the couch and getting to work. you had thirty minutes left till your fast was over, it was enough time to clean out the old food from the kitchen and organize all the new stuff. enough time to get some wet paper and clean the floors. (what's a swiffer?) enough time to think about how hungry you were while staring in the fridge absentmindedly. fat bitch. enough time to chug a glass of tap water and physically shake your head free of food thoughts. dog.

you held the warm mug of soup in your hands, always cold and shaking. now recently added, veins sticking out more. it made you want to slice up your hands and fingers. you sighed, swirling the soup around with your spoon. you wish you could put bread in the soup, or maybe have a bowls worth and not just a cup. it wasn't on the plan shig had you on though, and it probably would never be. you gave up bread months ago, along with things like cereal and any soda at all. however sugar was always the hardest part, going strong for a month or two then ultimately binging on a whole candy bar one of the roommates gave you.

shigaraki comforted you that day, holding you in his arms. "i know it sucks you ate all that candy. you've been doing good so far, and i'm disappointed, but it could be worse. just make sure you're back on track tomorrow like you have been." he kissed the top of your head. "they never offer me candy or their food, you know."

"...what?" you lifted your head to look at him, clutching onto him tighter.

"yeah," he nodded. you felt like a little kid listening to his story. "i think it's because you're almost bmi 19, finally, but don't look any different from when you first were starting to lose weight. i mean, look at me babe. would you ever offer someone like me something so depraving as chocolate?"

your lip trembled.

"they know what i am. they can already tell i don't need it, that i won't take it from them. you know why?"

"cuz' your so skinny." you sniffled, trying to hide in his sleeve. he nodded again.

"and they all know you're the fat girl that they can buy a hershey bar for. that they can share their food with and you'll finish it for them. is that what you want?"

"...nooo!" you cried out, tears dripping down your cheeks. he kissed them, pink and hot from the shame of being his fat girlfriend.

"good... fix it then."

you were now barely bmi 17, and your boyfriend was nearing 15. you cried every time you thought about it, which was everyday. every gash on your arm for all the binges and regret and disgust and hatred and anger and all those gross feelings you got about being alive were imprinted on you forever now. you wanted thin forever, you wanted to be beautiful for your boyfriend forever, even if it wasn't gonna be shigaraki. you saw how amazing jin treats his women before his next episode, toga's insanely strong adoration for the same person she's been on about for years- yet her ability to do it for her current partner anyways. how dabi sleazes up girls at parties to be his customers and in his bed by the morning. even some of shigaraki's cut-off family seems nicer than what he's ever told you. they speak fancy and dress nice, they're rich. they pay the rent here for shigaraki and his 'friends', he was a rich boy living the poor life.

"you have money shigaraki, we could buy a new car or fix the fucking washer if you just called your stupid fucking uncle!" you were arguing again, not really remembering what really started it. the missed car payment might've been it, but no one really cared about paying off a car you guys bought for like 5k- oh, then wanting a new one, you were caught up now. "we could maybe have a kitchen, with, you know, real food!"

he scoffed.

"what?!"

"always thinking about food," he rolled his eyes. "even if i did get more money from them, i'm sure you'd waste all my gas money on driving to food spots. spend all the water in the washer washing away the grease and food stains from your clothes. your clothes, which go up in size," he got closer to you, back against the wall. "if i called my stupid-" his fist collided with the wall, actually breaking through it. it crumbled and fell in small pieces on your shoulder and to the floor, you flinched but didn't dare to scream. "-fucking uncle. for more money. you'd just spend it on filling up the kitchen, with real food. is that what you're telling me?"

he was in your face, seething. eyebrows pinched tightly, looking into your sunken eyes. you shrugged. he smacked you.

"you don't eat shit unless i tell you to." he grabbed your jaw, forcing you straight, then smacked you again. with similar force that he gave the wall apparently, knocking you to his feet and oh shit you were actually seeing stars. his boot pressed between your shoulders, holding you on the floor. "lay here while i make jin his retarded fucking pre-workout. if you get up, i'll kill you."

you sobbed as quietly as you could into your arms, phone buzzing in your pocket. the fast was over. you had 2 hours to eat. start with something light, maybe a cup of soup. some fruit for fiber, or something. uh, maybe tomu will make you some of his good tofu... takes too long though, it'll be 7 by then, and you don't eat past 7. you lay there. even after tomu walked by you, even after he came back to tell you to get up, even when he kicked you.

you felt small as he picked you up, grumbling and cursing, setting you down into his bed. he rubbed your head, down your spine, over your hip bones. he pushed you flat on the bed, running his fingers up over your flattened stomach and feeling up your ribs. he kissed your collarbones, each side, then your forehead. "just a few more." he whispered to you as you whined. few more pounds, okay. few more hours, okay. whatever tomura wanted, you would gladly do. you love hurting yourself, but he does all the work for you. you loved losing the weight, loved the perfect scars, loved the feelings that weren't complete distain so it surely meant they were good-feelings.

you loved tomura.

[kwockwoc]

What do you think Nicholas’ favorite flavor of ice cream is? What would his ice cream order be (if he could afford the extra toppings)? 🍨🍨🍨💗

Hey anon, I started writing a minific for this but it got out of hand, so instead you get a prose reply without the fic aspect, sorry 😔

Ice cream thoughts below the cut

Couple of different aspects here.

I think teen Nicholas has his ice cream order down pat – he’s got a fave ice cream store, and he knows which server gives the biggest scoops, and will literally ASK to be served by that guy/girl when they’re there, and WATCHES very closely as the ice cream is assembled. We know he likes extra pickle no sauce on his burger, so I’m thinking he’d be a left-field sort of ice cream guy. I have no idea how American ice cream works so let’s say he can get 3 scoops of different flavours – Nicholas is opting for the sour cherry, the licorice, and the peanut butter. No idea re toppings (gotta admit I had to google ‘what do Americans put on ice cream’ and found this article and now I’m slightly obsessed with the idea, but I lack brainpower to crunch Nicholas’s topping preferences rn).

Adult Nicholas is the kind of guy who always orders the special on the menu when he goes out to eat, so I think he’d also be looking for unusual and interesting ice cream flavours as he gets older. He goes to a farmers market and sees the unique one-of-a-kind ‘heritage apple and honey’ ice cream and buys a punnet. He stops by a provedore and sees the special ‘toasted cardamom and citrus’ ice cream and thinks ‘hey, yeah, okay’. Balsamic strawberry? Sure! Seasonal pumpkin ‘n’ brown sugar? Sounds neat. Devilled egg custard with smoked black tea? Uh… (yeah, I saw this online & apparently it’s real)… hey, why not, Nicholas says, you only live once!

Whereas, Seiji…

Well.

--

Nicholas Cox (husband): hey hon what do u want from carrolls

Seiji frowns at the screen.

Seiji: Why are you at Carroll’s again? We had ice cream yesterday.

Nicholas: I know but I thought u might want some

Nicholas. Call.

“Uh. Hey,” Nicholas’s voice says, and he sounds a little guilty. There are other voices in the background. He’s already in the store.

“Nicholas, we had ice cream yesterday. And the day before,” Seiji adds, before Nicholas can protest, “and last weekend.”

“It’s summer,” Nicholas says plaintively. “That’s when we eat ice cream, right?”

“Sweetheart –”

“D’you want your usual?”

Seiji sighs into the mic. “All right, yes, okay. My usual.” Triple fudge sundae, whipped cream and choc sprinkles, he doesn’t need to say. Nicholas has it memorised.

“Yay!” Nicholas says. He actually said yay. Seiji rolls his eyes. Spending so much time around the kids is impacting Nicholas’s vocabulary.

“What are you ordering for yourself?” Seiji asks. Nicholas’s order is always interesting.

“Pickled mango!”

Seiji’s pretty sure he heard that wrong.

“Pardon?”

“Pickled mango. Special, this week only,” Nicholas says, his excitement undimmed.

“Okay,” Seiji says, cautiously. “That sounds… nice.”

--

Okay, you got a minific out of me anyway 😅😉🍨

[ashtheva]

[UNDERSWAP] Quotes For Every Character

I went ahead and wrote some character quotes for every significant character in Underswap (Including some characters who never initially had any concepts.) Hopefully whoever ends up seeing this enjoys them! Some characters will also include headcanons (Which I will explain along with their personality as you read.)

I'm going by the logic that each character retains some of their personality, while still giving off a swapped vibe.

Temmie Quotes:

“h0i!!11!1 im temmie! Temmie da t3m!!1!”

“By my temmie fwakes for 1g!!!”

"Dey totez don't hurt u!!111! :3"

“BUY. THE DAMN. FLAKES!"

"In this world, selfish desires are the only solution!"

Asgore Quotes:

“Do not fret, dear fallen, as it is I, Asgore, Caretaker of the Ruins.”

“If I may ask, do you prefer Golden Flower Tea or Sea Tea? I am not sure if you've had them before, but choose the one that sounds most interesting to you.”

"Would you like to try a piece of pie? I'm... unfortunately not the best at baking, but I try!"

“I am sorry, dear child. As the Ex-King of the Underground, I shall see if you are worthy of the outside world.”

Mad Dummy Headcanon:

Considered "silent, but deadly." Doesn't speak just like the Ruins Dummy in UT, but still attacks you.

Mad Dummy Quotes:

"..."

"..."

"... >:("

Mettablook Quotes:

“You’re a fan.. of me? That’s flattering, darling.. But I’m just a nobody..”

“Oh, my..”

“Oh, how I wish to be a star, but the dream seems so far.”

Papyrus Quotes:

“greetings, i'm a totally ordinary human being.” (When greeting you w/ Groucho Glasses)

"call me frank, and to be FRANK with you, i'm happy i saw another human today." (Still wearing groucho glasses)

"nah, i'm just pulling your leg bones." (After taking them off)

“hello, the name’s papyrus, but you can call me papyrus.”

"guess you should put more BACKBONE into it."

"i don't have the GUTS to stop smoking. heh heh."

“uh oh. i suppose you’re gonna have a rather unpleasant experience.”

“don’t worry, in the end, i still believe in you.”

“you really thought i’d just stand there and eat it up?

how naive.”

“human, don’t smoke. It’s bad for you. we skeletons have no lungs, so we do what we want, you know?”

“junior jumble is way harder than crossword, amirite?”

"you really think crossword's better, brother? un. believable."

“YOU’RE JUST SPINELESS.”

“YOU’RE DEAD MEAT.”

Sans Quotes:

“I’M SANS. THE MAGNIFICENT SANS!”

“SERIOUSLY, BRO? YOU’RE SMOKIN' AGAIN?”

"THAT STUFF'S BAD FOR YOUR LUNGS, QUIT IT!" “I’M PRETTY SANS-ATIONAL, EH?” *audible wink.*

“MWEH HEH HEH!!!"

"YOU REALLY WANNA BE MY FRIEND?"

"LISTEN, I HAVE A TON OF WORK TO DO TODAY. A SKELE-TON!"

"HEH, I GUESS YOU'RE LAZIER THAN I THOUGHT, BRO."

"PAPYRUS, YOU'VE BEEN UP ALL NIGHT. DON'T YOU THINK YOU NEED SOME REST?"

“I’LL STOP YA IN YOUR TRACKS, KID! I’M THE MAGNIFICENT SANS, AND I’LL CAPTURE YOU!”

“AND I SAID TO CAPTAIN ‘ALPH, YOU DON’T GOTTA BE SO ‘COLD BLOODED’!”

"HUMAN. TURN AROUND, AND FACE MAGNIFICENCE IN THE EYE SOCKETS!"

"i guess this is goodbye..."

"imma.. imma go home and take a nap i suppose."

Burgerpants Quotes:

“Hey there, little buddy! Care to try one of my burgers? I call ‘em smiley patties!”

“Be careful what you wish for, little buddy.”

"Once, I dreamed of becoming a famous actor.. But, I unfortunately aimed for something less ambitious, and got stuck here."

"I'm still staying hopeful though, never give up on your dreams! Stay positive!"

“Smoking? What do I look like, I run a burger shop for a stuck up robot? That's bad for your lungs, kid!"

Muffet Quotes:

“Papyrus, you gonna pay your tab soon?”

“Please, come again soon~!”

“I should introduce the both of you to my pet~”

"That's gonna be extra for the honey that you drink everyday, Papyrus!"

Asriel Headcanon:

Asriel is older than he is in Undertale.

Asriel Quotes:

“Howdy, Chara!”

“Don’t you think Alphys is so cool?”

“Let’s be friends!”

“Here, have this locket. A symbol of our friendship!”

Flowey Headcanon:

All of the Floweys are innocent and goofy, but speak normally. The Flowey replacing Bob would be named Rob, (to reference an Underswap co-host who went by "Coastrobbo") who speaks like Undertale Temmie. Each Flowey has a distinctive personality.

Flowey Quotes:

“Howdy! I’m Flowey!”

“Hoi!!11! im rob!!”

“Look, I have a sprout!! I’m such a proud parent!”

“DIE.” *insert struggling to wrap around Chara.* “Nevermind..”

Alphys Headcanon:

Alphys is often insecure about the way she looks at times, but she deals with it, it helps with intimidation. She still stutters due to having a speech impediment, not due to shyness or nervousness.

Alphys Quotes:

"Y-You'll have to try harder to beat me than t-that, human!"

"Oh my god, Mew Mew Kissy Cutie is on right now!!"

"O-Oh, that Dr. Undyne person? S-She's.. so cute!"

"Darn it! I'll keep you at bay with a ton of lightning strikes if I need to!"

"I-I'm always afraid of hurting people with my insane strength, or scaring them with the way I look..."

"I'm done hiding, I'm coming right for you, human!"

Regular / Ruins Dummy Headcanon:

Regular Dummy can speak, and fights you out of boredom rather than getting angry. They leave rather rude/snarky remarks towards Chara. Their attacks consist of boring things. (Idk, like dust particles, newspaper articles n' junk.)

Regular / Ruins Dummy Quotes:

"You really don't know how to keep a guy entertained, do ya?"

"You're boring me here, buddy.."

"I'm out, you're too boring."

"Wow, didn't see that attack coming, again."

"Are all humans this bland?"

Undyne Headcanon:

Less shy than Undertale Alphys, she more so just likes to keep to herself. She's nerdy and she likes to keep her things organized.

Undyne Quotes:

"Please, don't mess with any of my stuff, I worked hard to keep them organized."

"Hey, human! I'm Dr. Undyne, the Royal Scientist of TORIEL."

"Well my schedule is r-ruined now, hope you're happy..!"

"I installed a totally cool bomb-defuser thing on your phone, try it out!"

“Anyways, uh.. You want some soda?”

“Anime is amazing, I absolutely LOVE Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2! I love it for it’s more mature themes!"

"

Napstaton / Napstablook Quotes:

"WHY DON'T WE GIVE THE HUMAN A TRADITIONAL WELCOME, DUDES?"

"LET'S GET THIS STREAM ON THE TRACKS!"

"REALLY NOT FEELIN' UP TO IT RIGHT NOW. SORRY."

"YOU KNOW I'M AN IMPENETRABLE ROBOT, RIGHT? HERE, I'LL JUST PRETEND YOU BEAT ME..” **DIAL UP SOUND NOISES, ERROR SCREEN.**

"SOMETIMES I LIKE TO RELAX ON THE GROUND AND LISTEN TO SAD MUSIC WHILE FEELING LIKE GARBAGE. IT'S A FAMILY TRADITION, BUT I DON'T DO IT AS OFTEN NOWADAYS."

"GET ANY QUESTIONS WRONG ON MY SURVEY, AND YOU'LL BE.. uh, eradicated? uh.. HAHA, YES, UH, ERADICATED!"

"oh.................. you flipped my switch."

"I totally feel up to it now, dudes!"

"I'll punch you with these awesome arms!"

Grillby Headcanon:

Grillby can speak, but just chooses not to. He has a Heat's Flamesman who says whatever he might be thinking on his shoulder.

Grillby Quotes:

"..."

"..."

"..."

Heat's Flamesman: "The boss thinks you should buy his food, OR ELSE!"

"...You're in debt, human. You owe me your soul."

Nice Cream Guy Headcanon:

Nice Cream Guy hates his life. He works in NTT's radio station room and does the sound work. He doesn't necessarily hate Napstaton, he just finds him obnoxious at times. He has a lisp, and is made fun of the way he says ice cream, "Nice Cream"

Nice Cream Guy Quotes:

“What do you need now, Naps..?”

“OH!!! Someone came to see me?”

“I’m always made fun of for the way I say ‘Nice Cream’, I have this dumb lisp.”

"Want some advice? Don't be like me. I gave up trying to own my own Nice Cream shop long ago, now look where I am in life."

Catty & Bratty Quotes:

"We're like.. SO hyped to capture you and stuff."

"Hi, my name's Catty, and this is my rival, Bratty!"

"Hi, my name's Bratty, and this is my rival, Catty!"

Catty: "Really, will ya stop finishing all of my.."

Bratty: "SENTENCES?! I think not!"

RG01 & RG02 Headcanon:

RG01 & RG02 own the shop dump. They resemble typical video game nerds who review Video Games (e.g. Nostalgia Critic and AVGN), they're still a couple and bicker about their favorite games.

RG01 & RG02 Quotes:

RG01: “Dude, like, we both know that Deltatale is better than Underrune!

RG02: “Really, brah? You have no taste.”

Toriel Quotes:

"My child, would you perhaps like a piece of pie?"

* Toriel stands silent as if she doesn’t want to do this, but she must.

MK Quotes:

"Yo, dude! It's me. Your best friend!"

Frisk Headcanon:

Frisk does not speak. They communicate using sign language. Frisk will stand there silently, and randomly jump scare you before everything goes black.

Frisk Quotes:

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

RANDOM JUMPSCARE.

Riverperson Quotes:

"Tra la la.

I heard the old song from the sea.

It was chanting towards me.

It drowned me in… darkness.

As if I have reached the bottom of the ocean.

I yelled… and I yelled.

But no one heard me."

??? Quotes:

"✋︎ ✌︎💣︎ ✌︎☠︎ ⚐︎☼︎👎︎✋︎☠︎✌︎☼︎✡︎ 👍︎✋︎❄︎✋︎☪︎☜︎☠︎📪︎ 👌︎🕆︎❄︎ 🏱︎☜︎⚐︎🏱︎☹︎☜︎ 👍︎✌︎☹︎☹︎ 💣︎☜︎ ✌︎ 💣︎✌︎☝︎✋︎👍︎✋︎✌︎☠︎📬︎"

"❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👍︎⚐︎💣︎☜︎👎︎✋︎✌︎☠︎ ✌︎💧︎😐︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👍︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎👎︎ ✋︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ 🕈︎✌︎☠︎❄︎☜︎👎︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☟︎☜︎✌︎☼︎ ✌︎ ☺︎⚐︎😐︎☜︎ ✌︎👌︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🏱︎☜︎☼︎✋︎⚐︎👎︎✋︎👍︎ ❄︎✌︎👌︎☹︎☜︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ ☼︎☜︎🏱︎☹︎✋︎☜︎👎︎ ❻︎☠︎✌︎❼︎📬︎"

"👌︎☜︎🕈︎✌︎☼︎☜︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💣︎✌︎☠︎ ✋︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 👌︎⚐︎✌︎❄︎📬︎"

Annoying Dog (PopcornPr1nce) Quotes:

"Bork!"

Hatsune Miku Quotes:

"Why am I even here?"

"What's an Udderwasp?"

"I am nothing more than a simulation."

[sugarfluffandallthatgoodstuff]

Each marker stroke is special

Oikawa x fem!artist!reader

You are a current sophomore at a CSU school majoring in Arts. 

(V/M/N)=venmo

Y/N=your name (dur)

H/C= hair color

It is currently 8 am and you are very late for your first class.

“NOOOOOO I'm going to be laaaaatttte”

As you run across campus you bumped into a boy with satiny fudge brown hair. Your papers fly around. 

“AHHHHHH NOOOOOOO. I’m so sorry.”

You apologize as you grab your papers. The boy stands up and grabs the remaining papers. 

“Oh, it's ok,” he said in a Japanese accent. 

You look surprised and say in Japanese. “Thank you for helping me”

The boy looks at you and says back “Oikawa”

You run away and smile at Oikawa.  “Y/N” you yell back.

“IMA BE LAAAAAAAAAATTE”

Oikawa laughs and sees you run to the Art building. 

**********************************************************************************************

You somehow made it to class and began to do your project. You look at your drawing book and begin to draw. The more you draw the more you realized that you end up drawing Oikawa. You look at it and begin to blush.

You yeet the book to the floor and the teacher looks at you in concern. 

“Your drawing is looking wonderful Y/N.” The teacher says looking at your drawing in amazement.”Might I ask who was the inspiration behind the drawing?”

You look at her and begin to blush. 

“It's… it is just a random person that I met.”

She looks and begins to smile. “The most random things can end up being our greatest accomplishments. I’d love to see this boy looking at the stars or a lake. Good work.”

You look at the drawing again and begin to smile. This was the first time that your Art teacher ever noticed your work. 

Classes were over for the day and you began to look for food. As you decided to go for Burger King (A/N rip our BK), you noticed a tall figure you seemed to have recognized. You tap his shoulder and sure enough, it was Oikawa.   

“Oh,” you said. “It is you again”

“Well well well if it isn’t the cute art major~ whatcha got there?”

 “Oh, this?” You take out your picture, then realize what you are doing. “It’s just a drawing for practicing,” 

Oikawa just smiles, not pressuring the obvious that it was him you drew 😏.

“You’re very talented you know!”

“I mean I think I’m pretty mediocre and have a lot to improve on before I’m willing to accept compliments and or commissions”

“Well I think you are good at it and I would pay for your work”

“While that’s very kind of you to say but, there is no reason to blow smoke and flatter me over it”

You obviously know that you always say these things. You never accepted any compliments from anyone. Always trying to find anything that you need to work on. It’s always been your flaw.

“Well it’s amazing” 

You looked surprised. Oikawa is looking directly at you.”I know what it’s like to be negative about yourself.”

All you do is nod at him. 

“So allow me to tell you everything I like about it”

“I like the attention to detail, your ability to make it look super realistic but ethereal at the same time!”

“I-I m-mean i-it’s the bare-”

“Bare minimum nothing! Your work is still beautiful! In fact, I want to buy it when you’re done so I can hang it in my room!”

“B-but i-it’s not good-”

“Nonsense! You work hard and it’s time you see the value of your work!”

“What’s your price?”

“I-I c-could d-draw a better one i-if y-you w-want”

“Nah I like that one. I’m thinking $200 minimum offer”

“Th-that’s a lot for me to ask you f-for I-I-I m-mean w-we a-are in college”

“It’s fine, but now I wanna pay a minimum of $250 and every time you insult your work I’m raising my offer by $50”

“Damn it. Seriously why me though? There are so many more talented artists in my class alone who could do much better, much faster, and much prettier”

“$300. I’ve seen their art and honestly doesn’t speak to me. Their best work pales in comparison to your ‘worst’ work like you say that piece is just for practice but it still looks waaaaay better than a lot of people’s best work. And honestly, it makes me excited to see what you can do at your fullest potential. Which is why I’m willing to invest in you. And now my offer went up to $350”

“While that’s very nice of you I still believe that I’m not very good and that I have a long way to go before I get to the level I want to be”

“So how long does it normally take you to draw stuff like this?”

“Uh like, 2 days tops?”

“Great! See you can make cool things in the blink of an eye which probably means the stuff that takes you a while is better than historical art right!?”

“Y-you d-do m-make kind of a good point there I guess more time does typically mean higher quality work”

“See now you’re starting to get it! How much longer do you think?”

“Well that depends on if you want a clear protective coating or not”

“The coating sounds cool but how long will that take?”

“Well if I coat it, it will take an extra 45 minutes but without it, I’d guess 2 more hours since I am barely finishing the line art and still have to do flat colors, shadows, highlights, and a light glitter coat for an enhanced highlight effect”

“Sounds great! Say do you have any more classes today?”

“No, but do you?”

“Nah and I’ve got no practice today either so I could honestly spend the whole time with you and that makes me happy”

I blushed and looked down twiddling my thumbs and stammering when

Out 

Of

No

Where

He leaned over and kissed my forehead

“Let that be a little symbol of my faith in you and your work”

I blushed HARDER and picked up one of my skin-toned markers for the base color and swiftly got to work being careful not to miss any part and be able to blend and looked up periodically to make sure I was getting the color right 

“You look like you’re gonna kill someone,” he said while giggling 

“I’m just in th-the z-zone right now a-and I g-gotta get the colors right”

“Oh makes sense. So uh… what’s being an art major like?”

“It’s not like people think it is, sometimes we gotta draw naked people and that’s kinda awkward. I d-don’t know if y-you can tell b-but I’m not that great at conversations”

“That’s totally cool, I don't mind! Do you do any extracurricular activities? Like I'm in volleyball here for example.”

“Oh uh…I’m on the dance team b-but i-it’s not that special”

“That’s so cool! I envy what you guys are able to do!”

“O-oh um th-thank y-you”

LE TIMESKIP

“Phew, that took a while! Now for the clear coat”

“Wow, it looks amazing Y/N-Chan!!”

“It’s not all the way done yet silly!”

“Are you excited to commission for the first time in a while?”

“I guess but if I’m being honest I didn’t think about it at all”

“What's your Venmo Y/N?”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“I wasn’t kidding about paying you $350 now tell me your Venmo before I make you”

“You seriously don’t have to pay I’m happy to give it to you for free! It was originally supposed to just be for practice anyway”

“Well Y/N you leave me no choice but to force it out of you”

He walked up to me and the closer I got the more I realized how smol I was

Then he grabbed my wrists (gently though what a gentleman) and twirled me around 180° into his back and put his chin on my head

“Last chance Y/N what’s your Venmo before I make you give it to me. I’m not letting your hard work go unrewarded or unpaid”

“That’s so much though for something not that great! I’ll take $10 and no higher”

“Oh how tragic, I’m still paying you the $350 and giving you a little extra something on top of that because you still aren’t understanding your worth and I’m gonna use you being in my arms to teach you that lesson” and he said this with a smirk on his face

He then walked us both out to his car, us and all our shit in tow.

And once we were both inside the car he started peppering kisses on my forehead and cheeks with his fingers interlaced with mine only to then nuzzle my nose with his and then he started talking again:

“I’m barely getting started but are you flexible by any chance?”

Weird question but ok

“Uh y-yeah, why?”

“Can you try to put your wrists through the headrest?”

“Y-yeah, n-nothing b-bad is gonna h-happen r-right?”

“Of course not! Think of it as me showing you how great your artwork is detail by detail!”

He then raised the headrest and gave me time to slide my wrists into it to see if they would fit 

That is

Only for him to lock it around them within 5 seconds of me putting them in the smallish opening

“Haha! Now I can show you and see you smile as I compliment your work! Why don’t we start off with the details of the face? I don’t even think a camera could possibly do justice to how I look but you did!”

He then proceeded to kiss all over my face and when he started butterfly kissing all over my nose he was kind enough to push my glasses up so he wouldn’t accidentally smudge my glasses {ayo where the fellow glasses peeps at~red} 

“The hair detailing is just– FLAWLESS I love how much it captures what a perfect hair day looks like! So well done there!” and as he says that he starts ruffling my hair and then there was a fun little series of head pats and re-smoothing my hair as well as curling my H/C around his finger while looking into my eyes

“I d-don’t understand why y-you’re b-being s-so k-kind t-to m-me”

“Gotta make up for you not being kind to yourself Y/N, and I’m gonna make you love and feel proud of your hard work!”

He then reclined the seat back a good amount and climbed over to be directly in front of me

“Wouldn’t want you straining your neck right?”

He then carefully put the image I drew of him on the back seat and smiled at me before running his fingers up and down my entire torso 

“I guess we should move this out of the way shouldn’t we?”

He then pushed my shirt up and tucked it under my bra line 

“That’s much better! Wow, I can kinda see some little abs there! How cute! I gotta see how strong they are!”

He started speedily fluttering his fingers all over my ever so slightly defined 4-pack and I started trying to hide my blushing face 

“Aww don't hide your cute face from me! That’s so mean Y/N-chan!”

“Waihaihaihaihaihaihaihaihaihaihaihaihaihait pleaheheheheheheheehehehehehehehese nohohohohohohohohohohohohohohoho. Ihihhihiihihihihihihihihihihihihihihihihihihihit’s uhhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhugleheheheheheheheheehehehehehehehehehy”

“ *GASP* HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT Y/N-CHAN!! YOUR FACE AND TUMMY ARE CUTE!”

And he started tickling me with his nails going up and down my torso, front and back while I squirmed and squealed with laughter and delight and tried my hardest not to blush as this tall handsome playboy of a man was just cooing at me like I was a little baby

“Who’s such a cutie with a cute tummy? You are! No- don’t you try to hide or argue you are cute!”

And then he moved his hands up to my armpits and it was fucking over for me

“waihaihaihaiHAIAHIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHT NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO PLEAHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHESE NOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHRE I’IHIHIHIHIIIIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIL DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO ANYHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHNG”

“Anything you say? Well then, you just have to say 3 simple things: that your art is worth the price I offered, that you’ll accept the amount, and that you’re adorable. Can you do that for me? If you can I’ll let you go, but if you don’t you get an extra 5 minutes before I let you try again”

“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY”

“Great now say it!” he had slowed down the merciless tickling and brought his hands down to the area around my belly button

“Myhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhyhy ahahahahahahahahahrt ihihhhihihihihihhihihihihs wohhohohohohohhohohrth the threhehehehehehehehe fihihihihihihifty ahahahahahahahahahahahahand I’hihihiihihihihihihil ahahahahahahacehehehept ihihihiit”

“Aaaaaaaand?”

“I’hihhihihihihihihihihihihihihim adohhhohohhhhohohohohohohohohrable”

“Good girl!” he finally stopped but before he did entirely he booped my nose and gave me a kiss as well as a raspberry on my tummy

“Now. what’s your Venmo? Or do you use cash app?”

“Venmo”

“So what’s your Venmo?”

“(V/M/N)”

“Perfect.”

He then, while still having me in straddle btw, got on his phone and got onto Venmo and sent it to me 

Then he put his phone away and looked at me again

“You’re so pretty you know that?”

“I-I-I uh-uh-uh I-”

“Well in case it wasn’t clear to you before you are beautiful. It does not matter what you say I still don’t think you are capable of ever being lackluster whether in looks or talent”

And before I could even refute him he pressed his lips to mine and kissed me very passionately.

As his lips slowly detached from mine, he also released my wrists from their locked position under the headrest.

“I know this is going to seem strange but… will you go on a date with me?”

“Would it be strange if I said yes?”

“Absolutely not my dear Y/N”

might make a part 2 maybe not

IDK

~Red



[strongfuck]

ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE? Normally, Rhys just smells clean whenever he’s able to be. He showers regularly and is pretty meticulous about his grooming in general (if he doesn’t shave everyday, he’s got a stubbly beard the next day), and while he makes sure to use deodorant often, he doesn’t slather it on like butter, so at most there’s just a hint of it. When he’s meeting important people or dealing with other professional-esque situations, though, he buys a similarly clean and refreshing men’s cologne, often with a hint of citrus. If he’s going on a date, the man is most certainly wearing some gentle baby cologne-- “rain cloud” or some other scent like that. He just finds them nicer for the senses in general than bolder men’s colognes, that’s all.

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE? Rhys’ flesh hand is rough from years of hard work growing up and even more years of hard work as an adult, what with how often he dealt with engineering, mechanics, and other heavily tinker-related duties at university and at Hyperion. The pads of his fingers are callused from his recreational guitar playing, and his fingers are long from childhood years playing piano at the town church down on Amalthea. His cybernetic hand, meanwhile, is metal-smooth in texture, and contrary to popular belief actually runs pretty similarly to a human temperature instead of being cold. It isn’t soft like a hand is, of course, and you can feel the ridges of plating and panelling, but because of bleeding edge temperature regulation, it can be whatever temperature Rhys wants. He tends to go for “a simulation of normal human temperature based on the rest of me”.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY? Everything. Anything. If Rhys is rushing and nobody is there to remind him otherwise, he’ll spend a day eating nothing but fastfood, chips, and other easily accessible things. He could have a personal chef at work, but why waste the expense when he can just walk outside to the nearest burger joint and eat something way cheaper? That said, though, if he has the time he does like to try new things and cook them. Food’s a fun experience for him, and being a cyborg means he can make any recipe perfectly as long as he has the ingredients and correct instructions for them. He doesn’t have any “comfort” food, per se, but his favourite carb is dough of any kind, and the food he eats the most of as far as cooking is concerned are dumplings filled with savoury meat.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE? Rhys can sing on-tune, and he’s more a quiet singer than a belter if it’s up to preference, but he’s not polished or especially superstar-esque with it. He’s not likely to sing for other people willy-nilly unless it’s karaoke night with friends (or at Atlas holiday parties). I’m also gonna link Troy Baker casually singing because the dude’s his voice actor, but that’s also more or less how it goes.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS? Sometimes, very rarely, he’ll smoke cigarettes. He obsessively tracks the nicotine in his body all the while with his cybernetics, though, so it doesn’t help him calm down as much as it theoretically should. Drinking is also virtually useless, because Rhys’ cybernetics burn the alcohol in his body quickly, so he doesn’t bother with that. He might eat too much ice cream, though. As far as nervous ticks go, Rhys has a tendency to stammer when he’s nervous or rub the side of his neck, or run his fingers through his hair to calm himself down.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR? When Rhys is at work, he puts on the image of the clean, corporate guy, who also doubles as Your Cool Boss. He likes to wear colours that suit the aesthetic of his work; with Hyperion, he had loud yellows and blues to stand out and stay in line with Hyperion trends, and with Atlas, he wears a deeper blue colour and a vivid, red tie. While he’s not too pressed about looking extremely neat with his clothing (his tie can be askew here and there, or he’ll forget to tuck some of his shirt into his pants), he does try to have some semblance of neatness. In private situations or at home, Rhys has an almost entirely different aesthetic-- he likes earthy colours, or simpler neutrals, and actually isn’t a huge fan of sticking out. Comfort always beats style to him, and he’s not immune to keeping “ugly” clothing around if it has sentimental value to him. Regardless of the situation, though, he likes to roll his sleeves up, and if he’s able to, then he’ll pop the top button of his shirts, too.

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW SO? Yes! Rhys isn’t afraid of showing his appreciation of others, and can do so whether through verbal praise, high-fives, fistbumps, hugs (one-armed or two-armed), and the whole shebang. He loves his friends dearly, especially those that’ve made it into his inner circle, and is loyal to a fault, and he can forgive almost anything. In terms of romantic relationships, he most certainly has to be told to stop if a partner doesn’t want him to touch and kiss them often, since he likes to do both quite liberally. (He also, in an embarrassing show of territoriality, likes to leave marks if he’s given permission to, and will abuse this privilege if given free reign. You’re welcome to interpret this as you like, because any possibilities you can think of probably fall under the umbrella.)

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN? On his back, because he’s insane (also it’s good for his back). Rhys will also sleep on his side if he has someone to spoon because he’s clingy.

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM? If he’s talking? Probably, albeit muffled, since he tries not to yell much if he can help it. If he’s not speaking, though, it depends-- he doesn’t work hard to be silent unless the situation calls for it, but he’s not excessively loud, either. He walks like a normal guy and his shoes are pretty normal, so the sound of his walking’s normal, too.

tagged: @manaborn​ i feel like u and me are gonna be the “did we just become best friends?” gif real soon tagging: @munro-of-europa​, @therelignedstars​, @phaseshiftings​, @micsmasmuses​ (angel), @general-kalani​ (knoxx so u can develop him more hehe), @love-seared​, @irrfahrer​, @protodroid​, @lowerqualityrp​ (maya), @auroradicit​ (kalma... or theia if u want. Both?)

[pjplayground]

Chill Cat

First redesign for the rest of the cast. Wallace, a.k.a. Burgerpants, gets a more coherent color palette and a whole bio re-haul. Speaking of -

Bio: Wallace is only at this academy because of a program which states that all students who meet a certain criteria may attend without having to pay the yearly tuition fee. He comes from a very poor household, where he - along with his twin sister Nora - must take care of his younger siblings as a replacement for their mother. Their mother is enthralled in the night life, often being too hung over to take care of her children - which all have different fathers. Wallace and Nora both work two part time jobs just to be able to make sure their kin can have food on the table... even if they're just frozen dinners or take out. Sometimes, if Wallace can find the time, he smokes weed. Just to relieve himself for a short while.

Basic Info Full Name: Wallace Zebediah Reuben Nicknames: Wally, Burgerpants, BP, Hairball (by Romper only) Age: 18 Height: 6'1" Gender Identity: Cisgender (male, he/him) Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Medical Issues: Tense Muscles, Anxiety Can't Leave the House Without: Lighter, work uniforms, phone, ear buds, extra hair ties, snacks

Relationships Nora - Twin sister, sibling energy to the max Ramona, Jacob, Diego, Tulvi, and Hip - Little siblings, the cool big brother Amaranth - Mother, distant/non-existent Romper - Best friend, like brother and sister Papyrus - Friend, helps when he can Outer - Friend, also helps when he can Starbone - Friend, the quirky one Hunter - Friend, lets them hold his tail Skrunkly - Friend, fuels its chaos BonBon - Friend, used to be Asriel's friend Paperjam - New friend, likes his kindhearted nature Undyne - New friend, likes her style

Miscellaneous Little Facts - He drives a van which he's named Stanphanie. - Prior to meeting PJ, he was the only one in the friend group who had his license. - He prefers to listen to lo-fi, because in his words - "It keeps me sane when dealing with people who complain about the price of soup." - He has a Rumblr blog where he makes random shit posts and rambles on when he's high. - "Burgerpants" as a nickname came about in middle school. This was during a time when he was too young to work, so he'd scrounge around the cafeteria for scraps his fellow students didn't want. Asriel spotted the slightly dry burgers in his hand-me-down pants pulling them down, and immediately tagged him with the nickname that plagues him to this day. - This story is set in a world where people his age can buy weed as long as they have proper ID and are at least 18 years old of age. In which Wallace qualifies. - Wallace is actually a pretty good home cook. Kinda has to be. - His siblings all often bond at breakfast time, since this is when they're all together. - Because they can't really afford to call people for repairs around the house, Wallace also has some home repair skills. - Sometimes he has to skip school days because work and providing for his siblings has to be a priority. - He's often at school barely able to pay attention because he's so tired all the time. - There's a part of his that loathes his mother for being selfish. - Wallace has a special gift. He can see astral projections of Sides - beings that are the personification of one aspect of someone's personality or struggle. - He found out that PJ has a Side simply known as Diamond. - This gift that he has drains him of his energy on top of all the crap he deals with. This is why him and Romper are reading up about the gift to learn how to quote un-quote, "turn it off." - Wallace notes that his jacket isn't anything special - but PJ borrows it because it's warm and oversized. - He's one of those heathens that puts mayo on almost every sandwich they make. - On an odd day, his mother told him that his name was his grandfather's name... but he doubts this statement because he knows his mother. - Most - if not all - of his clothes are hand-me-downs/thrifted. - He can't remember the last time he's been to a doctor. - His bio father actually died when he was young, and he watched his mother spiral down... down... down... - Despite his hectic life, he remains to be a calm, kind, and resourceful person for anyone who find themselves in his presence.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

His Bleeding Heart

The air has been knocked out of me. The little whoosh silent but taking me by surprise. My vision narrows, and I reach my hands out to steady myself. It feels as though the world has tilted. I must maintain my equilibrium, keep my poker face on, despite the sweat that's starting to dot my forehead.

Everyone who sees me would never see the turmoil behind my eyes. The pain and the panic swirling within my thoughts.

What should I do? What will happen next?

I see his face in front of me, blurry and unfocused. Quickly, I swipe an arm across my eyes, crouching in front of him. I cup his face with my quivering hands. His declaration has taken me by surprise, and I couldn't think properly. At first.

Now that the shock has waned, every detail of my surroundings is coming into sharp focus. Our curtains lift a little with the breeze, the napkin tucked under the saucer fluttering without care. I see the remnants of my lipstick on the rim, the last dregs of the coffee I'd been drinking cold inside the cup.

My eyes scan every feature of his face, committing each to memory. I remember how many times we'd spoken about the future we'd share together. The dinners we'd spend laughing about this and that.

I just sigh, straightening up and heading toward the kitchen. It's getting late, and I need to prepare dinner. He chooses to stay in the living room. His eyes looking almost vacantly at the basketball game on tv.

I wash my hands carefully. I was planning to make burger patties out of our leftover ground beef, and I needed every inch of my hands clean.

He used to bring every stray he meets into our house. His bleeding heart unable to fathom them being hungry and abandoned. After the fifth one, I'd put my foot down.

He would go to work every day, and leave the actual care to me.

I can no longer stand the toll it takes - not only physically, but emotionally. We can never keep these animals; our children are allergic to them. We've had to hide them in the shed for fear our children would meet them and fall in love.

Tonight is our anniversary. I'd taken special care with my appearance. Our children have been sent off to their Grandma's to spend the night, a little sleepover party I'd told them.

Of all the nights he could have given me the bad news, it had to be this night. I could scarcely accept the news. The shock forces me to widen the distance between us. Him into his designated spot on the couch, and me to the kitchen.

I sneak a glance at him around the corner. He's just sitting there, with nary a care in the world. And why should he look disturbed? His world hasn't changed. He knows I'll be here to pick up the pieces.

But I don't think I will be.

I look around the brightly lit kitchen. At the marble countertops and wooden shelves. When we first moved in here as newlyweds, it was what compelled us to buy the house. Since then, I've spent many a time preparing meals for our family in this house.

Placing the cast iron pan on top of the stove, I turn the knob, waiting for the pilot to turn on. The sound of the vent sucking up any smoke fills the small room until I can no longer here the game.

My hands toil even as my mind calms. I've known what I need to do. Known it for a couple of months now.

I go over all the details of my plan. It won't be easy. But if I do everything right, I can make both of us happy.

"Dinner's ready," I announce from the doorway.

With a grunt, he pushes a hand against the chair and stands. His figure has filled out since I first met him. The shoulders and arms heavily muscled, his hips slim, and his legs sturdy.

"Thanks," he says as he slides into his chair. The piping hot burger I'd placed on his plate still emitting steam. I'd fixed it just the way he liked - with copious amounts of ketchup, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon and slices of cheese.

I won't be begging him to stay. Not me.

But if he's leaving, I want him to realize what he's missing.

"I appreciate you not making a fuss about it, Eileen," he says before taking a big bite of his burger.

My mind flashes back to the suitcase waiting in the hallway. I didn't even think he knew how to pack his own clothes, let alone where the suitcases are.

I just make a murmur in my throat in response. I've lost my appetite, but I know I have to keep up my strength. I'm going to need it in the days and months ahead.

"About the kids," he starts.

I hold up a hand. "Why don't we talk about that next time? Our lawyers can figure that out, surely?" I say, using my knife to cut myself a sliver of meat. I detest burgers, I prefer my patty plain. If I'd know this was where we'd end up, I'd have chosen a different menu.

"I'm hoping for joint custody," he says, ignoring what I've said. "I'll do my best to find a place nearby, so they won't need to go far."

"No reason for things to change for them just because we're divorcing," he chews noisily, taking a big gulp of water to help the meat go down.

"I agree," I say, resigned to having this discussion.

"I do appreciate your sensibility and cooperation on this," he informs me. "I'll need your help in making sure the kids accept Amara, too. After all, she's to be their new stepmother."

I make another murmur in my throat, taking a sip of water. He must have mistaken it for assent, as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

I wait for a few minutes before I speak again, my voice stronger this time. "I do have a few concessions regarding that point."

He looks up. "The children shouldn't meet her until you're sure of your relationship. I won't have them hurt. They'll already be hurting once they hear the news. We should take it easy on them."

"I don't see any reason to rush."

He snorts derisively. "They've already met her a few times. I don't think they'll need a bigger adjustment period. Maybe you do, but not them."

I clench my skirt into a fist under the table, not deigning to give him a response.

Instead, I stand to take away both my plate and his. I've cleared for him during all the years of our marriage, and even though it's about to end, I wasn't going to stop now.

He grabs my wrist, stopping me as I turn away.

"You'll always be my first love. It's just - I've fallen in love with someone else now. You have to learn to accept it."

I take a step firmly away from him. "I don't need to accept anything. You're the one who'll need to adjust. I doubt you have anything in common with a 20-year-old fresh out of college."

"That's beneath you," he admonishes. "I'm leaving soon, I just need to grab a few things I've forgotten in the bedroom."

Making no acknowledgement, I move away finally, walking with leisurely steps to the kitchen. Heaving a deep breath, I slowly place the plates inside the dishwasher, clicking the door shut with finality.

No one can fault me for not being an exemplary wife. I've done everything that's to be expected and more.

Thud.

The sound reaches my ears, and I walk toward where I guess it's coming from. Perhaps something's fallen out from the closet.

Pausing at the bedroom door, and clutching the frame, I look at him in the bedroom, having fallen backward into the mattress.

Moving closer to him, I give him a smile. I slip the syringe I'd prepared earlier from my apron pocket and quickly gave him another dose. His eyes look desperate and pleading - frantic - but I don't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I hum to myself, grabbing him by the legs and pulling him to the kitchen.

It's my domain, after all.

I've had enough of his strays. I can't believe he dares to build this one a home.

I always knew his bleeding heart would be his undoing.

I warned him.

[44-docx]

15/04/24

I had a rough past few days. Two days ago I had one of the worst panic attacks of my life. Thank god my partner was there to help me. They held me and when I saw the look on their face I wouldn’t let myself dissociate. It hurt almost , in the weirdest way, and was so hard but I was able to. And so I didn’t record my food that day or the day after, but I felt okay about the food I ate. Today I feel as though I ate more than I should have and am having shame I dislike the feeling of but I’m reconciling with having put it in my mouth to begin with so I’m sitting with this feeling lol.

Breakfast 8:00

I had all of this. I was kinda nauseous halfway through then it dissipated and I finished. I got hungry an hour after and had this snack. I was studying and needed a pick me up, hence the red bull. I usually try to avoid caffeine but I’ve been TIRED all day :).

Lunch: 12:00

For lunch I had chicken and egg on rice. I added hot sauce and honey. I had that soup and picked out two dumplings and thre the rest out. Then I picked up this little bit my cafeteria was serving. I didn’t like the potato it had because ew it was soggy asf, so I just ate the smoked salmon instead. Didn’t really want it tbh but I ate it and regretted it in my mouth but I can’t spit it out in public like I would alone. Not gonna lie, spitting things out if I don’t like them is a new development that kinda keeps me true to eating only what I like and want. I don’t chew and spit, not something I have ever done! But having the ability to respect myself enough not to swallow something I hate is part of me trying to regulate what I eat. I got cereal for desert, again. I saved this muffin and picked at it for like 2 hrs as I tend to do while I work , it’s a bad habit because I feel like sugar helps me focus…. More on that at 3:30 lol. (Also I did not eat that banana)

3:30 “snack”

So I had this snack which I feel like was rather large. I had a handful of cashews, maybe more, a few bites of yogurt and an orange with a coffee with oat milk. That caffeine kicked me into being able to work again because I was honestly dissociating and was able to get a hold of it again! I’m getting really good at that and am really proud of myself. I started work and got a reasonable amount done and then I noticed my blood sugar dipping again. I am noticing that when my blood sugar feels low I feel out of breath and get super bad brain fog and am not able to work! (Big surprise wow I know) but as somebody who would force myself through work after barely eating I’m noticing just how productive I am when I actually eat - especially when I have sugar. So I got a slushes and oh my did that kick me into high gear lol.

Dinner: 8:00

I had this chicken burger and peeled off the extra bun parts because why do I need that much bread for such wimpy patties??? Like buy smaller buns if you’re gonna be that cheap? Anyways enough beef with my cafeteria. I had half the fries and a load of ranch and hot sauce with honey. It started to freak me out actually having the sauce about halfway through eating it, and then I was like okay let’s just see if we finished it. And then I did . And I’m trying to be neutral about that. I almost wanted more food but then I realized I didn’t want it I just wanted it because it was available and I would freak out if I ate more because I was already full and I should stop. Having unlimited food is really hard as someone who has binges, uncontrollable eating spells where I feel out of control regardless of how much I eat it feels compulsive because I’ve restricted for so long. Trying to recover with a cafeteria is hard lol. But… I stopped myself. I had cereal, I also got a little carrot cake but I realized I didn’t want it so I just ate the cereal. Actually eating the cereal did make me feel like I was pushing myself and made me consider P, but I did not. I’m fine and I’m full and that’s okay. It just feels like sooooo much food. Not being able to put anything back is also kinda ficked up to me because like , I will take something and have to throw it out, which I obviously don’t wanna do but I’ve grown comfortable doing as a part of my healing . Anyhow I’m looking at the carrot cake I smuggled out of there because I didn’t want it but wouldn’t throw out because I may want it later. I have an exam at 9 am so I expect I will be up late studying.

Taking photos of my food has been super freeing. I’m really happy that I started doing this. Throughout the day I have these thought about trying to calculate my food that I’ve had for years. Now being able to SEE what I eat is putting me at ease in a way I can’t quite explain. I feel a sense of freedom from it and I’m not trying to use it in a toxic way either which is nice that I don’t have that compulsion. I’m trying to focus on the fact that this food will fuel my brain for my exam tomorrow morning and and I’m trying to be happy for myself because I did a good job at studying today and avoiding dissociation - and regardless of my marks I think I’ve done a good job here preparing and that puts my anxiety at ease.

I’m on SLYND now which is a birth control. I’ve been taking it for two days now. It may cause weight gain but most people say it doesn’t which is a blessing omg. Keeping this food diary will help me make sure I’m not being adversely affected by the medication to eat more. And that gives me comfort because my last birth control I gained FORTY POUNDS. Omg I can’t even think about it it was so bad . Like with such bad body image it SUCKED. Really made my eating disorder worse for sure. But here I am trying to recover and mitigate the risks in a healthy way by monitoring my appetite and intake💪

Anyways, back to studying.

[andrewlovely]

Homecoming

USS George H.W. Bush USS Gerald R. Ford They dock in my hometown and dominate the landscape. Holy Roman Empire Such power is seductive… You can’t take your eyes away Two Bechtel A1B nuclear reactors Five squadrons of multirole air superiority strike fighters

Who could oppose them? And who would even think to? We are nothing. Provincials on the outskirts of Rome

I want to believe in Big Brother I want to rest easy knowing that Father protects the world And beam with pride whenever I see his warships coming on the horizon. Guardians of the Free World Sentinels of the West

But I’ve been too close and seen too much I know too much and I know better

Satanism in the frat house Machiavelli’s acolytes thirsty for blood But they’ll settle for red death and sexual assault. A brood of vipers A school of sharks who eat their own young

They turn on each other out of a kind of boredom Or simply because they know of nothing else better to do. Brotherhood is betrayal

Patio get-togethers with smoked salmon queso carrot dips and forced laughter. Amidst the bad jokes and the desperate cackling my dad’s friend tells me how much he loves Batman and how much he misses killing people.

Post 9/11 lonestar quarterback varsity cheerleader pep-rally culture Band of Brothers jingoism and Republican family values Post Reich Fourth Reich zeitgeist propaganda films Our dear beloved Hero of The Fatherland Our dear beloved American Sniper scouting the aisles of HEB for Always Ultra Maxi Pads and cheap microwave dinners.

I’m getting Laguna Beach flashbacks and Homeland Security Orange Terror Alerts. Over a million killed in Iraq, But Janet Jackson’s exposed nipple is somehow the pinnacle of moral depravity. Wealth is health.

Long gone the Comanche trails we used to hike and the old wooden watchtower where the good Christian children warned of strange nightly rituals and animal sacrifice. Now they paved the sacred grounds with another shopping mall and you can buy arrowhead souvenirs where every burger joint meets every coffee shop. Interstate I-95 on the next exit. Highway marker 279. Food and gas in 16 miles.

I woke up on some European toll road federal highway built by Colonel Sanders’ military junta. I could just as easily have been driving back from San Antonio Airport. Home of the 1999 NBA Champions. The signs are the same everywhere But they all lead back to the same source.

Rick was a driver for Halliburton. Always spoke to me in a heavy drawl about the importance of having a good attitude. “We gotta fight ‘em over there so we don’t fight ‘em over here, Andrew.” I always thought that was just the way he talked. Turns out it was the highballs and the VA drug cocktail he drank every morning. He wasn’t even from Texas.

I never did find out who “they” were. The ones we were supposed to “fight over there.” But apparently they were in cahoots with whoever it was he fought in Vietnam.

Rick had a pretty good attitude about driving a truck I guess. About as good of an attitude as you could have really. He went to church every Sunday and blew his brains out on the Fourth of July. A patriot to the very end. Yeah, they used him up pretty good alright.

Beverly was a Dallas debutante with a sweet disposition, if maybe wound up a bit too tight for the likes of Austin. I probably seemed alien to her and maybe too polite, or too gentle for the rugged “boys will be boys” expectations that southern women seem to cater to and delight in.

She always asked me if I wanted more sweet potato casserole with a mixture of disappointment and confusion. I think I just seemed strange to her. But she was nice enough, and everyone was always “doin’ good, ya know And we’re all just doin’ fine… And you know, Doyle just bought that new boat he was wantin’ And I think we’re finally thinkin’ ‘bout sellin’ that old house finally.”

Beverly eventually jumped off the roof of a nine story parking garage. But that just got swept under the rug right alongside everything else.

There was a murder in Dallas and all Americans carry it three layers deep in different forms of societal conditioning and infra-red shades of misplaced anger and resentment. “The military industrial complex now permeates all aspects of our national identity and daily life: the political, the economical, even the spiritual.”

Ordinary citizens are buried and there’s nothing left, they’re all used up. Empty vessels filled to the brim and then discarded At the brink, at the brink, the cracks always form at the brink!

Lightning strikes splitting down Dick Van Dyke’s milk bottles, crazing through the glass, and just at the moment of critical eclampsis, the water cannot hold, it’s too late for the light, too late for Japanese Kintsugi, and everything not saved will be lost.

There will be no apotheosis, no final reckoning with the cowardly and dastardly adversaries who always hid themselves, but who, thinking their time nigh and the hour at hand prepared duly and dutifully beforehand to be utterly invincible, their case bulletproof, their charge noble and steadfast, now suddenly dare to reveal themselves, [and what a gift (!)], so you can finally stand up and fight, so you can finally show yourself, and show your power, and fight them head-on, and fight them in the light of daybreak, and fight them in the light of high noon, and with no more evasions, and with no more doublespeak, and with no more shadows, no…

There will be no final apology, no great apocalypse, just a tired whimper and a bewildered release.

Now the casket was lowered with military honors, and we all saw that, we all saw it. But The Beast was never slain. It gave the eulogy at its own funeral dressed in drag. Hairline trigger fingernail painted black. The CIA has operatives with dreadlocks and man-buns now. They meet all their diversity quotas. All of the bureaucratic vestiges of The Republic have been allowed to persist. They carry on the day-to-day affairs of The Empire and seem to please the people Conjuring up images of some past glory or vaguely reminiscent of some new half-promise half-remembered. It’s been a successful rebrand.

We all live on three job credit cards, but if we can just figure out which bathrooms we’re allowed to use, we’ll probably be OK. - Lovely

[gayloserboy]

a little thing i decided to write and am forcing you all to see. it's set in a verse with superheroes and superpowers.

it follows a sort of anti-hero named dante. everyone's gay. enjoy!

He stood outside holding a burning cigarette in his hand, taking a drag. He breathed out, watching the smoke mix with his puff of air. He tried not to smoke on the job, but it was a slow night. He watched the roofs beside him as he waited for the cigarette to burn out. He twitched as he heard a noise, dropping his cigarette and grabbing his knife as he spun around and lunged.

“Well hi.” He held his knife right at her throat. He scoffed, taking a step back. He twirled the knife in his hands, before slipping it in his pocket, staring at the other person.

“You made me drop my cigarette.” He frowned, finally breaking the staring contest. Mimic chuckled, glancing down. “I’ll buy you a whole pack. How long you been up here?” He sighed, cracking his knuckles. “Only been out for a few hours. It’s dead as hell.” “You wanna go get a drink?” He glanced up at her, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m working.” She scoffed, bumping his shoulder. “No, you’re brooding on a rooftop waiting to jump into a fight and get your hands dirty.” She grabbed his arm and started pulling. “Yeah, working.” He rolled his eyes, but let her take him. Night was slow anyways.

-

They were sitting in the back booth of Randy’s, a small diner on the corner of 4th street. He took the back seat, watching the door. Force of habit really, he doubted they’d get jumped. No one knew who they were in civilian clothes. No Mimic and no Vigilance.

Their server, Edna, placed down their meal - a fried chicken sandwich and a bacon cheese burger, both with fries.

“You finish your exams yet?” Bella popped a fry in her mouth, leaning back as she shook her head. “Nope, got two tomor-” She glanced down at her phone. “Today.” Dante chuckled, taking a sip of his Coke. “I don’t know how you juggle this and still get Dean’s list.” Bella stuck her tongue out at him. “Not all of us dropped out of college.”

He leaned forward, snatching one of her fries even though he still had his. He ignored her cries of protest, dipping it in his ketchup and tossing it in his mouth. “I didn’t drop out.” He corrected. “Legally, I’m dead. Bottom of the sea and all.” She rolled her eyes.

“Okay Mr. Tax Fraud.” He let out a loud laugh at that, startling the few other patrons. One of the teenagers shot him a glare, which quickly went away when he leveled them with one of his own and flipped them off. Dante turned back to Bella. “Okay, you’ve wined and dined me. What’s up?”

As soon as she opened her mouth and spoke he groaned. “I am not joining your “Hero Team”.” His tone showed how he felt about that. “Dante, you’d be a good addition.” He slumped down, putting his head in his hands. “I should have known this was too good to be true. You have finals!” His voice was muffled in his hands. “They wanted me to double check, okay? Titan was talking about it again.” He scoffed at the name. “God, that guy. Why would I be on a team with a leader I can’t stand?” Bella rolled her eyes at that. “I still don’t know why you hate that guy.” Dante looked up from his hands. “He’s an entitled prick who acts like we all don’t know his dad is the O.G. Titan. Why can’t he just grab another name? Like something that doesn’t scream Titan Jr.” Bella rolled her eyes again, standing up. She threw a twenty on the table. “Okay, I’m done here. You’re being annoying. I’ll see you later.”

He rolled his eyes, saying a “bye.” so she would leave, before finishing his meal. He left another five on the table, standing up. Or going to, before he was thrown back into the booth. He grimaced, glancing up and rolling his eyes as he locked eyes with the highschooler from before.

“Scare your girlfriend off? Can’t imagine she’d want to stay around this for too long.” There was a group of about five of them, and he automatically picked out the best fighters. “Here to give me some pointers, big guy?”

The tallest guy, looking like your stereotypical jock bully with his varsity jacket grinned at him with pearly white teeth. “Something like that.” He probably looked threatening to some nerdy freshman back at high-school, but this was the real world. And Dante also had a knife in his boot. “We were gonna teach you some manners, right guys?” There were some nods as they all tried to look intimidating. It wasn’t working, though Dante was rarely intimidated. Almost never by people, usually by aliens or robots. God, robots. Fucking suckers were hard to kill sometimes.

“Doesn’t sound all too my style, guys. Well if you excuse me, I’m gonna go-” As he went to sit up, he grabbed his empty glass of Coke and lunged, ramming it into the front jock’s head. There were four gasps of shock and one groan of pain as it shattered and the guy stumbled back. Dante got out of the booth as they all stared at him, before the main guy yelled and they all swarmed him. “You’re gonna get it, asshole!”

Dante dodged a punch, ramming his elbow into another guy’s neck. He let his grin turn feral as he heard a choking noise, before slamming his head into the front jock guy’s face, hearing a satisfying crunch. He distantly heard someone calling the police before he kicked some guy in the balls and slammed his head on the table, wiping him out and breaking his nose in the process. He wheezed as one kid got a lucky punch, before giving out one of his own, only a lot harder. He kicked someone’s legs out from under them, grabbing them and throwing them at another one, sending them both crashing down. He glanced at the final two opponents: the front jock with a now broken nose and the guy who got his feelings hurt.

“I don’t think my feelings have been hurt yet.” The main jock ran at him, throwing one of his large meaty fists at Dante. He simply dodged, and kicked him in the balls, watching as he dropped. He looked up at the guy who got his friends to jump him at the beginning. “You’re a fucking freak.” He spat at him, although he was shaking, before running off. Dante sighed, looking down at the first jock right as the police came across the corner. He kicked the guy in the side just for good measure, before running off through the kitchen out back right as the cops burst in. He got on his bike, slipping his helmet on and sped off. Did he really just beat the shit out of a bunch of teenagers? God, at his ripe age at 23? He snickered to himself as he drove off.

-

[the-letter-horror-lover]

The Fourth Wall by TheAuthor5263

Anime » Boruto: Naruto Next Generations Rated: T, English, Adventure & Romance, [Boruto U., Sarada U.] Mitsuki, Words: 16k+, Favs: 1, Follows: 1, Published: Aug 29 Updated: Sep 28

Chapter 3

The first place Boruto went upon waking up was Mitsuki's house. After talking with Sakura yesterday, he was beginning to develop an idea of how he could complete the mission without potentially getting punched in the face. And he would need Mitsuki's help.

"Boruto? You're here early."

"Remember what we talked about last night?"

Mitsuki smiled. "Ah, it's about that."

"The sooner we put it into action, the sooner that creep will go back home."

"Do you really think it will work," asked Mitsuki, closing the door to his studio apartment behind him. "If I recall correctly, Hebi said that you can't get punched."

"You're actually using the name you gave that weirdo?"

"Why not?"

Boruto sighed. "Oh well. Mitsuki, you can transform into a little girl, right?"

One cloud of smoke later, a small girl with pigtails was standing where Mitsuki had been.

"Perfect." Boruto gave him a thumbs up. "Sarada won't punch me in front of a little kid who just dropped their ice cream."

"I wonder about that," said Mitsuki, transforming back into his normal self.

Suddenly, one of Mitsuki's snakes came slithering up. "It seems like Sarada is at that new famous sweet's shop with Cho-Cho," he said, holding the snake up to his ear.

"There's a place to buy shinobi cards right next to that shop! If everything goes according to plan… It'll be mission complete in no time."

Mitsuki smiled. "I wonder about that."

"That again? Come on Mitsuki, have more faith in my plan!"

"Do you think Hebi will let it be over that easily? I have a feeling that isn't what Hebi wants," replied Mitsuki, letting the snake slither into the collar of his kimono.

"I at least have to try." Boruto slumped his shoulders. "I don't want to be the cause of a war, especially not over a dumb mission like this."

"I'm willing to go along with whatever you say… But be careful. We have an opponent who can do anything on our hands."

"I know," he said, clenching his fists. "That's why I have to put an end to this today… Don't forget to smile when she exits the store."

"Roger."

With that, they both set off towards Sarada's location, Mitsuki running ahead in the form of a six-year-old girl to buy some ice cream and spy on Sarada.

Upon arrival, Mitsuki headed into the shop while Boruto lay in wait.

A few moments later, little girl Mitsuki strolled out of the shop, ice cream in hand. He signaled Boruto with a toothy grin, then hopped up onto a bench and began swinging his legs back and forth, licking his ice cream.

The second Sarada set foot onto the sidewalk, Boruto sprang into action. "Hey, old man! Got any card packs?"

"Ah, Boruto." Cho-Cho was the first to notice him. "Buying cards again?"

"Heh, I bet he still won't be able to get the one he wants," laughed Sarada.

Boruto's eye twitched. This is why I don't want to complete that dumb mission. Nevertheless, he took out his wallet, pretending to be surprised that it was empty.

"S-sarada," he stuttered, holding his empty wallet, "could you lend me a couple ryo?"

"Huh? Why would I lend you money for your pointless card game?"

Boruto narrowed his eyes. It was now or never. He took a step closer and faced her, retorting back. "It's not pointless, it's a really good game. You'd know if you played it."

"Why should I play it," she said, accepting his challenge and stepping closer. "I don't have time to waste on pointless card games, I have to train to become the hokage."

"Hmm? I bet you just want to spend all your money on sweets." He smirked, taking another step closer. "Cho-Cho is fine because her Jutsu relies on her consuming calories, but don't you need to be super-fast to do Chidori properly? I'd watch it if I were you."

Sarada narrowed her eyes. "Huh? What about you, Mr. I only eat fast-food burgers."

"Like you can talk," he replied, "I eat my mom's home cooked food every night. Doesn't your mom only cook once a week?" It was a low enough blow to make her lose it.

Just as Sarada took another step forward and put up her fist, little girl Mitsuki bumped into her leg with enough force to make her fall forward. Please, let this work, Boruto prayed as his eyes began to shut. But just before he left his fate up to fate itself, a kunai flying towards Sarada's head entered the crease of his vision.

What the…

Battle instincts taking over, Boruto no longer cared about the mission. From her position, Sarada couldn't dodge.

Reacting as quickly as he could, he put one hand on the back of her head and pulled her chin into his shoulder, knowing full well the momentum would topple both of them over. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fell backwards, bracing for impact.

The second he hit the ground, pain rocketed from his lower back all the way up to his head, leaving him dazed on the concrete.

"Sarada!" Cho-Cho crouched down.

Sarada was frozen, her eyes blinking in confusion at the sideways street. It wasn't until Boruto groaned from underneath of her that she scrambled off of him.

"You're heavy, you know that," he moaned, heartbeat pounding against his skull.

She adjusted her glasses. "You didn't have to pull me out of the way, I could have dodged…"

"Sure," he let out a faint laugh, despite knowing she couldn't have dodged it when she was already off balance and didn't see it coming. Was that… Hebi?

"There's no one suspicious here… Where did that come from?" Cho-Cho looked around.

Boruto slowly tried to sit up, but his head immediately began to throb harder. He reached behind it and felt hot sticky blood against his hand. "Darn it…"

With that, he passed out.

. . .

The author was sitting in Kaminari Burger, quietly skimming the text as it generated on the screen. Now that Boruto had verbalized his willingness to complete the mission, there was no longer a need to type every event as it occurred.

Peering into certain character's thoughts, as long as they were in close enough range to them, was another bonus that came with the chosen character accepting a mission. They were fully aware of Boruto's plan, and while it was rather lame, it made them laugh.

But just as his plan was about to be enacted, the author noticed something odd. He wasn't carrying it out.

Putting down their soda and pulling the laptop closer, their eyes rapidly scanned every later, the text stopped generating. Fantastic, they said with an eye roll, abandoning their soda on the table and rushing towards the place where Boruto had passed out. Someone else is here.

. . .

Boruto opened his eyes to a white celling. He blinked away the haze from his vision to find Mitsuki sitting on a chair.

"Oh? Boruto. You're awake."

"Mitsuki?" As he sat up, a shiny wrapping caught his eye. "This is…"

"Sarada bought them for you. She was here until just a few minutes ago."

Boruto picked up the package. "Ha. I guess the plan failed after all."

"I figured Hebi wouldn't want it to end like that. They've been waiting eight years after all."

"So that Kunai was…"

Mitsuki nodded. "There were no traces of anyone throwing it. And it vanished shortly after it passed by you both."

Boruto sat up carefully, noting the bandages around his head. He didn't feel any pain… Did Hebi heal me?

Disregarding the thought, he responded to Mitsuki. "I thought Hebi didn't want to stand out... Throwing a kunai in a public place like that doesn't make sense. What if someone else had gotten hit?"

"No one else seemed to be phased by it," Mitsuki replied. "I don't think they were able to see it."

Boruto frowned. He looked back down at the pack of cards in his hands. This mission… will I be able to complete it? If I have to take it seriously… Fingers gripping the edge of the wrapper, he pulled down and opened the cards. The pinkish bluish silver coating on top indicated an SSR.

Breath hitching in his throat, Boruto closed his eyes. If by some miracle, Hebi gives me Sasuke-san… I'll consider it. Cracking one eye open, he pulled the cards out of the package. "No way…"

Mitsuki craned his neck to see over the edge. His yellow eyes widened.

"I GOT SASUKE-SAN!"

Jumping out of bed excitedly, Boruto dashed towards the door. "Mitsuki! You said Sarada was here until a little bit ago, right?"

Mitsuki nodded his head with a smile. "Mmm." He knew it was no use telling Boruto to rest.

Still clothed in the standard hospital uniform, Boruto raced down the hall. He spotted Sarada just outside the entrance and nearly smacked into the glass door. "Sarada!"

Blinking a few times, Sarada turned around. "Boruto? You just passed out! You should be—"

"Look! I got Sasuke-san!" He shoved the card in her face, too close for her to even make out the picture.

"Ahh, is that right? I guess I pulled a—"

"Thank you!"

Before she could even comprehend what was going on, her arms were pinned to her sides and his chin was on his shoulder. By the time she comprehended it, he was dashing back into the hospital to show Shikadai.

Blinking a few times and wondering if someone had just used genjutsu on her, Sarada rubbed her eyes. Boruto… HUGGED ME?!

She stared through the glass in disbelief, and back at her hands, and then back at the glass. First, he demanded money from her and insulted her family. Then he saved her from getting stabbed. Then he hugged her for something she didn't understand. What is with him lately? Cheeks tinging pink, she pushed her glasses up and turned away.

Well that turned out better than expected, thought the author, this time watching from a nearby bench in human form. I even left the cards up to the luck of the draw… But the question still remains. Who threw that kunai?