#;; & headcanon

[clioerato]

Steve, raised since childhood on a strict diet of tax forms, utility bills, and neatly labeled folders, handles Love with capital L the only way he knows how—logistically.

So the moment he realizes things with Eddie are serious-serious, he doesn’t make a big speech or even breathe a word.

He just quietly opens a joint savings account.

Then a trust fund.

Lists himself as Eddie’s emergency contact.

Buys a gold ring (simple, tasteful, suspiciously the right size). He knows Eddie likes silver, but that's not what it's for. Gold is in any case an investment in the future, if something happens.

And—because, well, they’ve survived four apocalypses—he updates his will.

Steve wrote it after Apocalypse #2.

The BMW had been bought with his money and, should anything happen, was legally designated to go to Dustin.

Everything else—his personal savings, the shared funds, and whatever compensation the government might cough up for the next end-of-the-world scenario—was to go to Eddie.

Nobody knows this but Steve. It’s filed in a folder marked “just in case”.

Eddie, on the other hand, doesn’t do paperwork.

When he realizes things are serious, he gives Steve his favorite band t-short. Then changes the tires on Steve’s BMW from summer to winter without being asked. Fixes the bookshelf Steve’s been threatening to burn for a month. And starts making him sandwiches in the morning — the kind his mom used to make for him, with just the right amount of mustard and that one slice of tomato Steve always forgets he likes. Uses his entire vocabulary of cute nicknames on Steve and comes up with a couple of new ones.

Miraculously, it works.

Because Eddie gets this strange, unfamiliar feeling of being safe. And Steve? Steve finally feels understood. And cared for, in a way he didn’t know he needed.

[sagsunandmoon]

sometimes i think about how in batman arkham knight, when he walks through the gcpd every metal detector goes off. it inspired me to think about just how many metal weapons the bat carries on him at all times, enjoy this:

The JLA on an off world mission, negotiating with an Alien species:

Unknown Leader: “Yes, I’m afraid this meeting is under a no weapon policy, so please deposit them here along with any other belongings” holding a large metal box

Ollie: deposits his bow and arrow, along with a knife strapped to his calf

Diana: following suit, depositing her lasso and sword

The others do as well, the box quickly filling with a range of explosives, swords, knives, handheld traps, etc.

Then it gets to Batman…

He was just going to ignore the order, keeping all of his equipment with him before Diana gave him a sharp look, he sighed-

He started with his batarangs, the team expecting him to move on once they were released from his utility belt, but instead he proceeded to pull 2 from his calves, 2 from under his boots, one across his chest (nobody knew that the insignia could also come off??), and 4 hidden under his cape along his back.

Unknown leader: Alright then, we may procee-

Batman released his grappling hook from the belt, along with 4 explosives, 2 smoke bombs, and an emergency flair, putting them in the box as well.

Barry looked at him with utter confusion in his eyes, yet also nodded, clearly impressed. He moved to turn back to the leader but was stopped when Bruce pulled out even more equipment.

He unhooked one ear of his cowl, pulling out 3 different lock picks, the other ear detached and and became a retractable blade. (no one knew how this was possible).

Just when they finally thought it was coming to an end, he takes out 3 more knives lined in his cape pleating, a can of shark repellent?, an inhaler (for Tim), a small tin of hair gel (for Dick), a snickers bar (for Jason), a glitter bomb (for Steph), weighted gloves (for Cass), sunglasses (for Duke, not because of his power but because someone will ask him about the power and he feels he needs the glasses to complete the look), and a juice box (for Damian).

The box is full, the team is bewildered, Bruce has the audacity to ask for a second box. The aliens audibly sigh.

[pukefactory]

(Absolutely don’t do this if you aren’t comfortable) ENA (Dream bbq) getting drunk with reader?

•☽────✧˖°˖ FIZZY VALLEY ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Drunk Salesperson Ena X Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (Ena: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): Mentions And Descriptions Of Alcohol

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You should’ve known something was off when Ena invited you to what she called “a high-stakes engagement strategy brainstorm over beverages.” You were picturing coffee. Not tequila. Not her slamming two shot glasses on the bar and declaring, “Let’s reframe the concept of reality, darling.” She drinks like it’s a performance review—firm eye contact, exaggerated praise, and PowerPoint levels of misplaced confidence.

☆ Once Ena’s a few drinks in, her Salesperson side becomes so aggressively charming it’s like being smothered in coupon codes. “If you subscribe to this partnership now, I’ll offer you unlimited emotional support and complimentary hand-holding,” she hums, voice like cherry soda and half-suppressed giggles. You try to hide your flustered expression. She sees it. She logs it as “high conversion potential.”

☆ Her Meanie side doesn’t come out often at first—until she tries to order fries, but the kitchen’s closed. Suddenly she’s slamming her forehead on the bar, sobbing, “I AM THE TRAGIC EMBODIMENT OF CORPORATE WASTE—WHERE’S MY SALTED PRODUCTIVITY?!” You offer her a peanut. She throws the bowl at a breathing taxidermy moose.

☆ “Here’s your performance feedback,” she slurs, twirling a swizzle stick like a laser pointer, “You’re hot. You show initiative. You opened a door for me once. I will die for you.” You tell her that’s not how feedback works. She pulls out a clipboard from her suspenders and tries to make you sign a form titled “Love Contract (Beta).”

☆ She draws gimmicks on napkins. Terrible ones. Drunk ideas like “emotionally sentient office chairs” and “a pyramid scheme where everyone sells little hats.” You try to say “maybe we shouldn’t do this.” She claps a hand on your back like a frat bro and shouts, “WRONG ATTITUDE, PARTNER. THINK BIGGER.” Then she draws a diagram that’s just the word “VIBES” in a circle.

☆ She stares at you for a full minute, eyes glassy, voice flat: “Are you in the mood for shared assets and mutual annihilation, or should I put on my mask again and pretend not to like you?” You blink. She blinks. Her red side winks. You are either about to get kissed or yelled at. Or both. Probably both.

☆ The bar has one of those ancient karaoke machines. She picks a glitchy jazz remix of the Windows 95 startup sound. Halfway through she forgets the words (there are no words) and starts yelling improvised business jargon in rhythm. “Synergize my dividends, baby! Let’s OUTSOURCE THE PAIN!” Someone in the back cheers. You cry.

☆ Her Salesperson side leans over the counter, cheeks flushed, voice soft and too sincere: “Do you think people like me more when I smile? I’ve been smiling all night. It hurts now. But I—I want to be liked. I want you to like me. For me. Even if I mess up the pitch.” And her Meanie side chimes in: “GØD, I hate being real.”

☆ You’re not sure what triggered it—maybe someone said “quarterly”—but suddenly she’s sobbing into your shoulder like a malfunctioning LinkedIn ad. “I DIDN’T ASK TO BE A PRODUCT OF CAPITALISM! I just wanted to sell fruit. Or stickers! Or happiness! But now I’m selling ME!” You rub her back. She hiccups and asks if you’d still like her if she was “just a weird triangle girl with debt.”

☆ The bar’s quiet now. Her hat’s fallen off. You’re holding her upright and she’s murmuring nonsense like, “Let’s invest in each other’s feelings… diversify the pain into smaller dividends… I’ll build a company out of your laugh…” Then, barely audible: “You’re my best client. Don’t ever unsubscribe.” You smile. You don’t say anything. You just let her rest.

[bluukive]

Jerking them off - LaDS

mdni

ᡣ𐭩 lets you jerk him off from behind when he's sleepy, your chest against his back whilst your hand pumps his aching cọck. He's overstimulated, having come twice already, and his face is red from the lewd squelching noises your hand makes against him. He lets his head fall back to your shoulder, murmuring heated words of encouragement - Xavier

ᡣ𐭩 has his larger hand over yours as you jerk him off together. He rolls his hips up and fucks the makeshift hole both of your hands have made. His other hand is pressed up against your own pụssy, cupping and stroking it erratically as you both pleasure each other in unison (almost) - Caleb

ᡣ𐭩 lets you jerk him off through his pants. It's something new he likes to indulge in, a complete contrast to his usually clean appearance. Breathy groans leave his lips as he bucks his clothed hips upwards to meet your hand, ass, whatever is grinding against him at that moment. He eventually comes in his underwear with a spasm - Rafayel

ᡣ𐭩 Makes you watch him jerk himself off whilst you're restrained. Ignores all of your begging and pleading whines whilst looking down at you with a blank expression, but you know him too well. The subtle hitches of his breath and the way his throat bobs told you everything you need to know about how he's feeling - Sylus

ᡣ𐭩 Prefers to pleasure you, but on the rare occasion he lets you touch? He's tugging you onto his lap and guiding his hand to his cock so that you could stroke it. His forehead is pressed against yours as he murmurs low words of praise, occasionally pecking your cheek or lips - Zayne

[debcroft13]

ohhh imagine him manipulating to ursa making him a his dirty tool to take out his main person he wants done so he can take the throne

This flashback in ATLA, Azulon becoming enraged with Ozai for disrespecting Iroh and the recently deceased Lu Ten, is usually interpreted as Azulon then ordering Ozai to kill Zuko. I disagree with this for two reasons. 1: We don’t actually hear Azulon say that, it’s only referred to by Azula (who was around seven or eight at the time and might have misunderstood what she heard) and by Ozai, years later, when he is taunting Zuko on the Day of Black Sun. Neither Azula nor Ozai are reliable narrators. 2: Azulon is, at the time of this flashback, the ruler of the Fire Nation who has just lost one of his only two grandsons and heirs. What kind of monarch loses one heir and then turns around and demands the death of another, especially when losing Zuko would hardly bother Ozai? My interpretation of this situation is Azulon ordered Ozai to give Zuko into Iroh’s care, replacing Lu Ten as Iroh’s heir, neatly removing any argument Ozai had about Iroh’s line having ended. Ozai of course would never accept this. He either lied to Ursa, claiming Azulon wished Zuko dead, or outright told his wife he’d kill Zuko before seeing him get ahead of him in the line of succession, thus manipulating Ursa to help him assassinate Azulon. I think this theory makes far more logical sense than ‘Azulon ordered the murder of his nine-year-old grandson’.

[lazysoulwriter]

not dating - rafe cameron // hc.

based on 'not your girlfriend'

He leaves you little notes everywhere. On your car window, in your bag, under your coffee cup. Always signed, “Yours (but not officially), Rafe.”

You once told him your favorite flowers as a joke. He remembered. Two weeks later, he showed up with a chaotic, oversized bouquet and said, “Had to beat the florist up for the last of these. Worth it.”

Rafe never knocks. He just shows up outside your place like some overly confident raccoon. Usually holding iced coffee like it’s peace offering. “Figured you’d forgive me if I brought caffeine.” “What are you even apologizing for?” “I dunno. Preemptive guilt.”

He pretends to hate romcoms. But he sat through How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days with you and said “that guy is literally me” no less than four times.

Every time he thinks you’re mad at him, he texts you: – “Are we in a fight?” – “Is this about the gun thing again?” – “Be honest, on a scale of 1 to blocking me, where are we right now?”

He swears he's not clingy but miraculously ends up everywhere you go. “Oh, you’re here too?” “Rafe, this is my dentist’s office.”

One time, you kissed him without thinking. Like muscle memory. Mid-argument. Mid-sentence. He didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week.

He says stuff like: – “Just one date. One. You can ghost me after.” – “Do you believe in fate? Because I keep running into you like it’s planned.” – “You keep saying no, but you kiss me like you mean yes.”

He sends you selfies from therapy with captions like: “She said I’m emotionally volatile. I said yeah but in a hot way.” And then, “Doing this for you. Hope you’re proud. Also I miss your face.”

Once, he showed up bleeding. Nothing dramatic. Just a cut on his cheek. “Got into a fight with a guy who said you weren’t that hot.” “Rafe.” “He was wrong. I stand by my actions.”

Sometimes you forget why you keep saying no. Like when he pulls you into his chest and kisses your forehead like you’re something fragile. Or when he says your name like it’s a secret. Or when he looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

He always says, “I love you,” like a dare. And you always roll your eyes. And kiss him back anyway.

You once told him you’d consider dating him if he could go one whole week without doing anything illegal. He made it to day four. "That parking ticket doesn’t count!" “You parked in a church.”

He wears your hair tie on his wrist. Says it's his good luck charm. “You know, for self-control.” “Rafe, that doesn’t even make sense.” “Doesn’t have to. It’s yours.”

Every time you call him by his full name — “Rafe Cameron” — he gets this stupid smirk like he’s about to get kissed or arrested. Maybe both.

He’s chaos. He’s a menace. He drives you insane. But when he pulls you in, hands on your hips, forehead pressed to yours… You don’t pull away. You never do.

---

requests are open! / check out my masterlist.

[cup1dluvhss]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ CHEATER, written by cup1dluvhs

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ hamzah gets to frustrated when playing dress to impress and recruits you to play for him, unbeknownst to martin (request).

| warnings: fluff, swearing

| taking requests!

‘fuck! last again?’

hamzah’s voice echoed through the room as you looked up from your phone for the fifth time, a giggle escaping your lips as you observed your visibly frustrated boyfriend.

he and martin had decided to play dress to impress, and it was safe to say the two were losing their minds. you had been watching them competing as if their lives depended on it for the past twenty minutes, and every time they scored embarrassingly low in the leaderboard you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, the two of them letting out profanity’s or loud groans.

‘your so bad at this, it’s hilarious.’ you said to him from across the room, your gaze flickering up to him briefly before he turned to you with furrowed brows.

‘i beg your pardon? i’d appreciate it a bit more if you’d be a loving and supportive girlfriend.’ he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as you heard martin say something through hamzah’s headphones, presumably about your statement.

‘please, how hard can it be?’ you muttered absent mindlessly, your attention turning to your phone again, oblivious to hamzah’s eyes suddenly widening at you.

‘c’mere, baby.’ he said, his voice quiet as he gestured you to come and stand by him, your movements hesitant at first before you hoisted yourself out of the beanbag you were perched in, making your way toward your boyfriend.

you watched him closely as his hand reached for the mouse before muting his mic, your brows furrowing at his action.

‘i want you to play for me.’ he said, a wide smile on his face as you crossed your arms over your chest, staring down at him with an unimpressed expression.

‘isn’t that cheating?’ you said, looking at him playfully as he rolled his eyes and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you closer to him.

‘are you really gonna say no to me, hm?’ he said, his voice almost a whisper as one of his hands played with the strings of your sweatpants, the other gently stroking circles on the exposed skin of your waist, your tank top having rose up slightly. as much as you wanted to keep teasing him, the look in his eyes as he stared you down made you want to make him happy.

‘fine. but you have to do some of the work, got it?’ you said softly, slapping his cheek playfully before letting him guide you down into his lap, your legs swinging over to perch in between the both of his. one of his hands reached around your body to bring the mouse closer to you, while the other stayed positioned on your waist, steadying your frame.

‘hey man— what’s up?’ martins voice sounded as you attempted to shut up the snickers that threatened to fall from your mouth, a stupid smile on hamzah’s face as he began talking to martin.

a round had started, and you had been given the theme of ‘renaissance’ to make an outfit with. you had played the game before, and you had already made an outfit for the theme previously, so it was safe to say there was no panic as you guided your avatar through the game, customising and adding accessories as you went.

by now, the outfit was looking like one of the best in the server, and hamzah couldn’t keep his giddiness under control.

‘oh my god, i’m so gonna win.’ he mumbled, his lips pressed against your shoulder as your eyes remained fixated and focused on the screen in front of you, your gaze occasionally flicking up to the time remaining to check if you were under any pressure to finish.

‘don’t get too ahead of yourself.’ you said quietly, smiling at the feeling of his curls brushing against your skin.

‘your so fucking awesome at this game.’ he said, obviously forgetting for a moment that martin was still on the other end of the microphone, hamzah’s eyes widening as you quickly nudged him with your elbow, your mouth slightly parted as you waited to see if martin had noticed.

‘thanks man, i appreciate that.’ martin said, and it took every ounce of self control in your body to not burst out laughing right then and there, hamzah’s hand going to cover your mouth as he let out a series of laughs at martins statement, shaking his head at you.

eventually, the time came for the runway and it was safe to say martin was very confused as to why ‘hamzah’ had gotten so much better at the game in the space of five minutes.

‘dude, seriously? how the fuck did you do that?’ martin said, his tone telling you he was genuinely desperate to know as hamzah tried to form words to respond to his question.

‘uh—pinterest. outfit inspo.’ hamzah said bluntly, your head falling against his arm as you tried not to laugh yet again, hamzah’s own expression fading to one of amusement as he observed your state of desperation as your body shook, one of your hands clinging onto his bicep for dear life.

later on in the game, it was revealed that you had in fact came first place and martin was sitting firmly in last, his demeanour after viewing the leaderboard clearly telling you that he was starting to realise something was going on.

‘okay, seriously man. how did you do that?’ martin asked, hamzah’s head turning to you as he tilted it slightly, as if asking you if he should come clean.

you nodded, and hamzah took his headphones off and placed them over your ears, his hand going to adjust the mic in front of your mouth.

‘hey, martin!’ you said enthusiastically, a gasp immediately falling from martins mouth as he immediately began going off at hamzah for cheating, and at you for letting him do so.

‘i mean—are you kidding me? this whole time it was you?’ martin questioned as you nodded, a few giggles slipping from your mouth as hamzah’s hand began stroking up and down your waist, a wide smile on his face.

‘yep. did you like the outfit?’ you asked him, listening closely to hear him contemplating, a little ‘hm’ sound coming from his mouth on the other end of the microphone.

‘it was pretty good, to be fair.’ martin said, your attention immediately shifting to hamzah who gave you a high five, kissing your shoulder as you hoisted yourself off of his lap.

‘you owe me one, cheater.’ you said as he winked at you, his gaze still on you as you retuned to your beanbag on the floor, smiling like an idiot.

[mirachdae]

I love the unspoken rule about all the pet names:

James calls reg love

Reg calls James baby

Remus calls Sirius sweetheart

Sirius calls Remus anything to do with the moon

[jons-tape-recorder]

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Go right ahead, friends.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Rb if you want all the hcs people have about you in your inbox

[clioerato]

Do I have a chance with that guy?

Modern AU/Bar AU

Steve moves to Chicago with Robin—because of fate, obviously.

(And also because of their lifelong friendship pact, signed in blood and one weed trip.)

Robin starts college. Steve? Steve is on a quest to “find himself.”

In the time-honored tradition of their codependency, Robin gets them both jobs. Because together, they are unstoppable. Steve nods solemnly. He doesn’t even ask where the job is. If it’s with Robin, it’s fine.

Turns out, it’s a bar.

Steve is hired as a bartender. Steve is not entirely sure why.

But, as it turns out, there was no need to worry: A million high school parties, a questionable but expansive knowledge of top-shelf liquor courtesy of the Harrington family stash—Steve’s basically overqualified.

By week one, he’s slinging drinks like a pro and casually suggesting additions to the cocktail menu.

And Steve likes the bar. It’s cozy. Kinda cute. The music’s good, the vibe is chill, the crowd is stylish and laid-back.

He stays in his lane—mixes drinks, flirts politely, keeps it smooth.

It’s… maybe a calling? Steve is not ruling it out.

And then he sees him.

The guy with long hair. Leather jacket. Eyes like melted motor oil and a stare that fries Steve’s last two working brain cells.

Steve sees him more than once. Every time ends in mild chaos: mixed-up orders, forgotten drink umbrella, Steve knocking over a shaker.

He’s acting like a complete idiot. Which is new for Steve, who was the king of flirting in his hometown. Then again, he'd never flirted with someone like this.

The guy smiles.

Steve dies.

One night, near closing, Steve’s wiping down the bar and glances at Robin.

Steve (quietly, nervously): “That guy… y’know. The one with the hair. And the face. I mean, I told you. What does your gaydar say? Do I… have a shot?”

Robin (blinks at him): “Steve. He’s come to the gay bar several times. I really don’t think he just accidentally wandered in every time.”

Steve: “Wait, gay bar? What gay bar? When were you at a gay bar? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to gay bars??”

Robin (just stares at him like he’s grown a second head): “Steve… the gay bar we work at.”

Steve freezes.

He slowly looks around.

“…We work in a gay bar?”

Robin (pats his shoulder): “Hi, welcome. It’s been two months.”

[babyblankyerror]

You know, the sunshine and moon characters applies to the elder twins really well but while you may be expecting the sun to be Stanley and the moon Stanford, you'd be wrong...

Without the sun there is no moonlight, the two are held together and the sun is always meant to shine brightest.

Stanley is so little in comparison to Ford and all his light is not even his to begin with. No, the moon's light is the sun's and the sun's light is just it's own.

The sun doesn't need anyone but the moon cannot live without the sun. The moon is just a rock without the other, it just causes trouble in the sea because trouble is all he can make...The sun? He is not only the brightest but one of the biggest stars...

Stanley revolves around Stanford, that's all it matters to him, that is all he knows. How sickening is it for gravity to force you to twirl around the one person that doesn't care for you anymore? That doesn't really need you anymore...perhaps never did.

[incorrectbatfam]

Things Duke and the girls do when fanfics forget them:

- Treason

[powderh]

Powder would adore jellyfish

>> the_story_of_a_biologist

[ask-the-marimozoro]

Does sanji ever go heart eyes at you like he does women?? Does mans do his funky little pervert scene for you?

“Despite the fact that we are a couple, he has never done anything close to that and I highly doubt Curly would ever swoon like that towards me (not like I care either. It is weird to watch).

Even though he’s softened up around me after all this time and we’ve gotten into a different dynamic in private, I am a man, that little show is to impress women.”

[pukefactory]

In dream bbq, froggy mentions that Ena becomes “more of a disaster” when drunk. Would you be willing to write a reader and Ena going out for drinks. I like to imagine the salesperson side becomes less polite while the meanie gets not quite polite but at least less gruffer, but they both g egg grumpy when recovering from a hangover.

•☽────✧˖°˖ DOUBLE MINT FIZZ ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Drunk Salesperson Ena X Reader Drunk At A Bar & Hangover Aftermath

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (Ena: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): Mentions And Descriptions Of Alcohol

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You made the mistake of calling it a “casual night out,” which somehow translated in Ena’s brain to “full-blown networking gala.” She showed up overdressed, overcaffeinated, and already rehearsing a pitch to “sell your liver to a better candidate.” You hadn’t even ordered drinks yet. She flagged down the bartender like she was interviewing him for a job. “Do you offer loyalty programs? How much to rename this bar after us?”

☆ One drink in and her smooth, customer-service tone starts cracking. Two drinks in and she’s swinging her leg over the barstool, making finger guns at strangers. By drink three, she’s calling people “consumer-class parasites” and asking if she can “return your attitude for store credit.” “Excuse me, miss, is that your real personality or did you get it from the clearance bin?” You try to stop her. You do. But she’s too fast and way too articulate.

☆ While Salesperson is talking business like she’s running a stock scam in the bathroom mirror, Meanie slips out with glassy eyes and a quiet confession: “I th-think…I’m bad at parties…” You blink. She’s got her head on your shoulder and is mumbling something about her “internal marketing failure.” When you offer her water, she whispers, “You’re the only person who hasn’t emotionally bankrupted me tonight.” You might die.

☆ Shot glasses are the worst possible idea. Salesperson slams hers back and immediately yells, “I’M INVESTING IN YOUR POOR DECISIONS, BABY!!” while Meanie swats her own off the table and mutters, “Only suckers drink blue-liquid lies.” Then she looks at you and shouts, “CHUG IT OR I’LL SOB.”

☆ Salesperson Ena tears a napkin into the shape of a phone and tries to convince the bar’s patrons to invest in a new “emotional expense tracker app.” “We’re calling it Feelance. Now, who wants to monetize their heartbreak?” Meanie insists she’s the beta tester. “I already logged nine traumas tonight. You owe me five bottles of wine.”

☆ Ena refuses to walk in a straight line. Salesperson is trying to hail passing clouds like they’re Uber cars. Meanie is whispering insults to pigeons. You’re holding her elbow, and she’s shouting, “DON’T TOUCH ME I’M WORTH MILLIONS—wait never mind I’m dizzy—carry me, employee of the month…”

☆ The next morning, both she’s devastated. “I feel like a failed IPO.” “I think I bit a karaoke machine.” She lies on your floor like broken wind-up toys. Meanie has her face pressed to the cold tile and whispers, “I miss my dignity.” She throws a pillow over her face and groans, “Why did I sell it for tequila shots?...”

☆ Salesperson Ena insists on calling every single person she insulted last night. “Hello, is this the woman with the unfortunate scarf? I’d like to formally retract my statement. Your fashion choices are legally protected under the Geneva Conventions.” Meanie then chirps in and throws the red cup phone into a plant and hisses, “NO MORE BUSINESS. NO MORE BULLSHIT. ONLY PANCAKES.”

☆ You ask if she wants to go drinking again. She stares at you. Unblinking. “Are you out of your revenue-driven mind?” But by next Friday? Ena’s at your door with coupons, a flask, and a full slideshow presentation titled: “Why You Should Absolutely Let Me Embarrass Us Again – Q2 Edition.”