#Pizza Carboard

[anonymous-dentist]

Little oneshot of monster au Foolish and Vegetta finding Leo?

Aight, so here's the thing about being a vampire, okay?

You don't fucking eat.

Foolish has been alive for a very, very long time. And he's maybe eaten a pizza, like, uh, twice? Maybe? Or maybe he just ate two Italian guys... honestly, it kinda starts all running together after a couple of centuries.

Like, you eat, obviously, but you can't exactly leave a human body in the dumpster like you would an empty pizza box. It's illegal, apparently, and it's fucking stupid, too. Body disposal is maybe number three on Foolish's official Most Annoying Things In The World list, right behind "Bad Boy" Halo and "Bad Boy" Halo written in a different font.

So it's not like Foolish's garbage cans are full of food waste, is the thing. He's got some trash in there: plastic baggies, mostly, from when he wants to have his blood on the go with a straw; and then there's an insane amount of carboard boxes from his and Vegetta's LEGO collection.

So it's actually a little crazy one morning when Foolish steps outside of his and Vegetta's mansion to throw away their fifteenth box of the month and he sees a little creature digging through his trash.

Foolish first picks up on the scent of blood. Yum!

He then picks up on the scent of human. Double yum!

He then picks up on the scent of tears, and his stomach stops rumbling. (He may be a heartless, soulless creature of the night, but he isn't an asshole.)

So he carefully closes the back door behind him, and he clears his throat, and he has approximately three seconds to say, "Hey, you're probably in the wrong place to be doing that, pal," before the little human is screaming and tumbling backwards out of the dumpster. They hit the ground with an OOF!!, their red baseball cap flying off and landing a couple of inches away.

Vegetta, as talented as he is, must have heard the scream because he's out the back door almost immediately. But him coming out the back door means he's opening the back door right into Foolish's ass, sending Foolish tumbling down the short flight of stairs and onto the dirty-ass concrete.

"Shit!" Foolish screeches. He isn't hurt because he's literally immortal, but he plays it up just to see Vegetta's stricken face. He's gorgeous when he's worried.

"Foolish!" Vegetta cries. He jumps down the steps and crouches by Foolish's side, clutching Foolish's hand to his chest dramatically. "I am sorry!"

Foolish groans and flops his head onto the ground with his eyes closed. "Oh, Vegeta, how could you do this to me? How could you!?"

He feels a morose kiss pressed to his knuckles, and he's so flattered that his heart almost starts beating again.

But then his heart, as shriveled as it is, does literally jump in his chest as he hears a tiny giggle from next to him.

"Oh," Vegetta softly says, "who is this?"

Foolish shrugs. He cracks his eyes back open and swivels his head to the side so he can look at the kid, who is staring at the two of them with wide amber-colored eyes.

"Dunno," Foolish replies. "Human, I think."

The kid nods. They've got their hat on again, backwards.

Oh, Foolish thinks. They're cool.

"Hey, little one, would you like to come inside?" Vegetta asks.

Foolish sits up with a huff, turning to look at his husband. "What the hell, man! You can't just ask a kid to come inside your spooky vampire castle! That's freak behavior!"

"I don't know that!" Vegetta protests. "It worked with you, didn't it!"

"I wasn't a child! I was literally three hundred!"

"Maybe they're three hundred! You don't know that."

"I'm not," the kid interrupts. They blush and shrink into themself. "And I'm a girl. Today."

"Oh, cool," Foolish says, because fuck yeah. Then he turns back to his husband with a put-on scowl. "Stop being a creep, Vegeta! She's a girl!"

Vegetta is halfway through beginning his reply when they both freeze as the back door opens and slams shut.

Foolish looks over. The kid is gone.

"Huh," he says.

"Huh," Vegetta agrees.

What the hell.

[melodicdork]

pizz a

little ceasers pizza is objectively the best pizza ever because it's edible in any condition, cold or not it's still enjoyable, got mold on that shit? dont worry, little ceasers patented anti-mold cheese will immediatly remov ethfe modl fromm the chese which amkaes it more edible afterewardsaza. you can literally eat little ceasers with fungus and mold and other viruses growing on it and you'll still be okay. papa johns sucks total ass, no one has ever said "hey you wanna eat papa johns?" most of the time it falls under the category of "hey you wanna get pizza?" it's really just how lucky you are, you get papa johns? maybe thats a sign that you are a pest on this planet. you get Little ceaserws? thats good, very good. nothing better like little ceasers pizzza this post is not sponsored by little ceaser inc. dominos also sucks with its flim ass pizza, calling it pizza is like calling carboard eco-freindly. dominos pizza is not even real pizza, they put glue in the cheese and actual carboard in the dough ITS NOT EVEN FUCKING REAL. Pizza hut is goated and its pretty good, one time I was breaking down in a pizza hut parking lot and I think that says a lot about what Pizza Hut does to you, it makes you cry tears of joy whenevr you approach the resturant but mine were tears of fear because they took the FUCKING CALZONE OFF THE FUCXKCIGN MENU FOR LIKE A LITTLE BIt and thats the truth im defintely not disgusing my actual reason for crying, it was the removal of the calzone. Marco's pizza was ass when I first ate it, thats really all I have to say about marco's pizza. Blaze Pizza had burnt pizza everytime I got it when I lived in LA, really living up to the name. Hungry Howie's Pizza isnt even real, they made up that restaurant like it doesnt even exist, I still got it once though and it was good I guess. SHAKEY's PIZZA IS AMAZING PIZZA I only went there twice as a kid and the pizza was sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo fucking good, it tasted like pizza and I think thats good. Charles Entertainment Cheese which is the lamest fucking middle name, your parents dont like you,. the pizza there is genuinely poisonous, everytime a birthday party happens and theres like half-eaten pizza left over Chuck E Cheese using tghat half-eaten leftover pizza to make new pizza which I think is way worse than 15 consecutive 9/11's.

[aflo]

im craving some greasy ass carboard high school pizza rn

[essence-flux-primed]

"Your vegetarian and lactose-free cheese pizza." The grimace on their face as they held the pizza box out could have been their attempt at a friendly smile, or their opinion on the order. "For the third time this month."

The smell of burnt spinach was already wafting from the box, and there was definitely far more grease than there needed to be warping the carboard already. Talon tries to keep their breaths contained, but the damn apartment security already gave them a stern look when they tried to use the elevator, let alone get into the building. Maybe this pizza will give this guy food poisoning and he'll stop ordering. It'll be better for him in the end, anyway. With eyes trying desperately to roll out of their head, they force the marketing spiel past their lips.

"You'll get a discount with a free side and delivery after a few more orders."

⋆ — Wow, they remembered. A slow grin creeps across Ezreal's face, entirely more pleased with himself than a guy ordering pizza ought to be. For some, ordering pizza is a treat because they don't have to cook, or because they're sharing it with others, but for Ezreal it's a treat because he gets the same pizza guy every. Single. Time. Not only are they easy on the eyes, but they're totally into him. It's obvious.

So, Ezreal leans against his doorframe, taking his time pushing his hair out of his eyes and offering Talon — he asked their name a few visits back — one of his best smiles. "A free delivery, huh? You sure you don't just wanna see more of me?"

Well, anyway, they seem a bit on the shy side (who can blame them?), so Ezreal will put them out of their misery, taking the pizza and paying with a tap of his credit card and a big tip. "Cool," he says, "thanks. Same time next week?" And then his eyes tip upwards a bit, trying to catch Talon's gaze. "... Unless you wanna come in?"

[exactile]

Man fucked up dream. I had a dream there was someone in a psychotic episode and saqw me and other people as different people as we are and threw glass at us/stabbed us with glass and we were in this huge house snd idk why we couldnt leabe it but we had to get better by being in a hot bath. I couldnt go to a hot bath because fhere was kids everywhere and they werent allowed to see me with huge gashes so i couldnt reach it.

We had to all go on trial in this really biased sysyem. We all knew the guy didnt think we were us at all and that we were dangerous people to him in the episode, but whatever country this system was didnt like psychotic people so it was going to be weighed against the guy heavily somehow and whatever we had to say would be futile.

Before even going to trial i ha a to fill out this questionaire on a pinpas and the firsf question was Have You Watched Servamp. The person overseeing me fill the questions out was like oh my god i love that show when i asked how to fill out "not all of it" in three letters. "BIT" she typed in for me. There was other things i had to do like deaw from generated prompts.

Still pretial process where everyone involved had to were a carboard box shaped like a paper bag with eyeholes soaked in pizza grease. For some reason. And put into this one room to just be amongst ourselves. We all felt preddy shitty bc if the trial wasnt in our favor we were all in trouble i guess. But ibthink thats because the psychotic guy was our friend. I woke up after that room tranformed into my work place slowly..

[baejax-the-great]

WIP Wednesday

it's wednesday here's pizza

~

Chicago-style pizza—or more accurately deep-dish pizza, because there are multiple kinds of Chicago-style pizza, all of which seem to be unfairly judged by the populace at large—gets a bad rap for reasons Pat has never really understood. Is it too rich? Too filling? Too delicious? Is the crust too good? Has cheese gone out of fashion somehow in America? The criticism he has heard the most often from rather smug denizens of the East Coast is that one cannot hold a slice of deep-dish pizza with one’s hands, and Pat has never understood how that is a rational critique of food. One person even claimed that pizza wasn’t truly pizza unless you could fold it in half, to which Pat responded he wasn’t aware that origami was a necessary part of dinner. In any event, he’s always preferred to eat pizza of any type with a fork because he hates getting the grease on him, so those arguments are moot.

Deep-dish is delicious.

Like other styles of pizza, deep dish is made of three main components—dough (often superior to that of thin crust, where the crust seems to exist only as a vessel for the food and is thus as innocuous as possible and often with the integrity of a piece of carboard left in the rain for five days), cheese (enough of it that no one in history has ever asked for ‘extra cheese�� on their deep-dish), and tomato sauce (this particular establishment goes for very chunky and fresh sauce, which Pat prefers to some of the more compact and paste-like options). For structural integrity of the deep dish, the arrangement is changed so the cheese goes in the middle and the sauce and other toppings go on top.

Normally—and by normally he means the once or twice a year he actually eats deep-dish—he would order a pizza for himself with onions and spinach and mushrooms, but Achilles doesn’t like onions, and he does like meat quite a lot. After some debate with himself, Pat decides Italian sausage is a more likely bet than pepperoni, and he asks for it on half the small pizza that will be more than enough for two grown men to share.

Achilles seems confused by the interaction. “I thought you said women don’t serve men anymore.”

A woman had led them to the table where they are sitting, and their waitress is a woman as well.

“They do when it’s their job. She works here. It’s not her home. She serves women, too. She serves whoever comes in and wants food. And we pay her for it.”

Achilles looks Pat up and down. “And what have your brought to give her in exchange for our meal?”

Currency is a topic that could take days to explain. “Don’t worry about it.”

The only complaints about deep-dish pizza that Pat will allow as legitimate are how long it takes and the expense. It will be at least forty minutes for a pizza, which is why he’s never bothered to actually sit in a deep-dish restaurant before. Ordering delivery just makes more sense.  

For some reason, despite the fact that they have nothing to do but sip on their water and wait for what is essentially a casserole made of cheese, their waitress comes around no fewer than seven times to check on them, or more specifically, to check on Achilles, who cannot understand her.

“Is that Portuguese?” she asks Pat over her shoulder as she remains completely angled toward Achilles.

It’s as good a lie as any. “Yep. It’s all he speaks, I’m afraid.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil,” she sighs before leaving their table.  

[someone-always-cares]

chapter 5, page 50

first - previous - next

[image description: an sac webcomic page. "probably should have transformed before this, bit late now but- huh?" jade says, looking over at lewis who has his arm held out to catch her attention while looking down at somthing. "what is it?". more of the kitchen is shown, it's mostly bare still, aside from a now visible high shelf on the empty wall behind them, containing a few items, the most notable being a carboard box stained with blood. "ovens on. cheese sticks?" lewis replies, crouched down next to the oven, jade leaning over to see what he's looking at. "don't know word or spelling. pizza cheese" "you don't know how to spell mozzarella?" jade asks, eyebrow raised. "i may be a bit stupid" lewis replies, from off panel. the panel only shows jade's head, and the rest of the kitchen behind her, including the now open door and the shadowed figure in front of it. their body is mostly in shadow, all that can be seen is their lower half in boots, jeans, pinkish-purple shirt. the shillouette of their upper half implies pointed ears, and wavy hair, and mst notably, pink glowing eyes with slitted pupils peering out of the shadow. end id]

owo who's this?

anyway place your bets for what's up next

ooh "going to try and finish next weeks page early so there's no repeat because of this week's con!" yeah that didnt fucking happen. but here we are and heres a cliffhanger for your patience!

also as a change of pace from my recent "really want to make sac into a printed comic" rambles, i did actually make something else into a published work so i'm a published illustrator now! not just me- there were 6 of us and i specifically was one of 2 illustrators! a fun guide aimed at and created by young trans people

"A guide for trans, non-binary and gender queer people to help navigate through life and the systems around them as well as educating others on the experiences and truths of trans people. Whether you are questioning your gender identity or wondering what being trans even means, this book is for you! From accessing trans health care, being an ally exploring your identity and getting answers about who you are, this incredible guidebook will hold your hand through it all and show you the safest most accessible ways to being your true self (and supporting people in your life to do the same). In a world full of systems that can be a maze to navigate, especially as a marginalised person, we have got your back and are clearing the way for simple support."

so yeah you can get that here!!

anyway con ramble: con went better than expected at least! i mean i'm not going to that one again unless i get a dealers table, but i covered all of my costs so better than it was in birmingham febuary! i took a bunch of stuff from the hotel when i left to since i got a nicer room than i meant to which came with fancy coffee pods which i nicked and spent too long on sunday trying to give them away to people but nobody at the con had the right coffee machine if they had one

also i dont know what it is but no matter how much detail i try and put in the background it always feels too empty. i blame this mostly on my own bedroom where i am most of the time im at home. picture howls bedroom from howls moving castle but all the trinkets are all art prints, stickers, plushies, and assorted bullshit. thats where i live. also my art program keeps throwing a hissy fit if i add too many things

[the-thing-of-worms]

Carboard boxes are amazing for this and I have caused many a scene in the parking lot behind ghe pizza restaurant destroying and punching the days card board boxes

[cobi-4056]

[E04] Documentary

We agree to meet up at 6, but get there by 7. It’s the second time I’ve been at this house, which is one of the most lively homes I’ve been in: Luka gives me, Dani and Camilo a tour of the apartment, filled with trinkets and objects that make it very obvious that Luka lives there. Broadway posters, Marvel mug collections, drawers filled to the brim with art supplies – he has built this place with love. Camilo has never met Luka before, but he tells him he adores this place. Luka, in turn, tells him that his family has said it’s just a bigger version of his room from back when he lived with his parents. I never saw the place, but the thought of a tinier Luka nook makes me smile.

While the cis people in the room stare in awe at the decoration Luka has set in his home, he taps my shoulder. I know he’s about to share something secret with me, special. He takes me three steps away from my friends and makes me crouch beside him. My eyesight scans the dresser, also packed with Luka microcosms, and settles on the small shrine he’s set up for his testosterone vials. ‘‘That’s sick’’, I say, and he nods his head with enthusiastic agreement. His partner Dante tells us he’s angry he can’t steal any, and Luka reminds him to be patient; which both him and I know is impossible.

Finally, about an hour or so later, we set the supplies on the floor and start thinking about what our sign should say. Camilo isn’t coming to the rally tomorrow, so his role is to stare at us and roleplay as an art critic. Dante and Chaby, his best friend who I only met today, start talking in secret to each other about what they should do. Luka browses sweatermuppet’s Instagram, while Dani browses Pinterest. I sit on the floor, eyes closed, and I try to think about anything that reminds me of Lionel, who I would probably be sending updates to if he wasn’t gone. He makes me think about love, even more, that special variety of trans love – I think about my friends in the same room, and what a blessing it has been to know people who understand me on a fundamental level. So I go in without guidelines and start writing in bold, black marker: EL AMOR TRANS SANA.

Once I start, everyone else starts feeling pressured to do so too (or at least that’s what I assume from the way everyone rushes to start their work). Everyone gets in the position they see as best to make their sign: Luka, Chaby and Dani sit like normal, but Dante spreads his legs that form a border around his piece of carboard. I think it’s hilarious, but I decide not to make fun of him – he’s found his zone, I don’t want to pull him away. My love language is being annoying to my closest friends, but I know when to quit.

Time passes. We keep working, take a break to do karaoke, order pizza, and go back to working again. Everyone gets very into their work, Camilo is out taking a call, and I’m alone with my thoughts for a little while. My mind wanders back to Lio again, how lonely his absence makes me feel, and I want to do something for him. I can’t go to this rally and ignore the fact that his death is exactly why I’m protesting. I’ve never lost a friend before, but I know other people have – everyone in this community at least knows someone who knew someone who died before their time was up. This is a heartbreaking thought, and I don’t know what to do with it. I browse my phone for pictures of my friend, who I also see in every bugambilla on every street, every piece of Hannibal fanart, every MCR album cover… I’ve said for a while now that anything that is beautiful is only beautiful because I can see him within it. So I ask Luka for a brush, I get out an extra piece of carboard, and draw my friend in his eternity; this time, with care.

[theygetthehangofit]

Carboard box, marker, crayon, scissors

Project: bermain jual-beli pizza dengan membuat pizza daei kardus bekas p

Kognitif: Membuat pizza dengan bagian yang berbeda supaya mengenal arti 1, 1/2, 1/4, dst. Mengenalkan konsep harga, uang, kembalian, dll.

Motorik halus: mencapit topping pizza dengan sumpit dan menghitung toppingnya sesuai pesanan. Setelah beres dikembalikan topping-topingnya ke bagian semua, melatih koordinasi tangan dan mata.

Bahasa: mengenal banyak bahasa baru misal: topping, jamur, makan di sini atau dibungkus, kembalian, dan bahasa matematika lainnya seperti 1/2, 1/3, dst

[world-love-government]

So get this. A cardboard box was next to this gray box, I took a photo of the carboard box that said "crustee" on it, it was for some sort of pizza. The photo unfortunately is now missing, I guess the G-Man got to it first before I could post it and all these strange coincidences about "Krusty" The above is a symbol I've seen posted elsewhere, but it could just be a tag for whoever. Here's the other photos of the gray box.

Tag side

Otherside, nothing seemingly special imo. Once again maybe I'm just calling attention to all these things that coincidentally have to do with voices shouting "Krusty the Clown" at me on a daily basis. I'm convinced these voices want to murder me or atleast give me a heart attack by calling me Krusty the Clown daily because they claim to have hacked by body and chakras. My heart often does hurt for some reason when I'm called Krusty the Clown, even though I have no idea why I'm called Krusty the Clown, it really doesnt make sense from my perspective. I can only thank the people, or "good voices" who defend my heart chakra. This is all very upsetting I have to go to the Doctor and literally get help for Heart defense in some way to battle these very real physical and spiritual assaults on my heart and soul.

[imanamjid]

Part two of carousel piece

Made the top cone bit, added some foam clay moulding to hide the seams, and also added plank like carboard pieces to imitate wooden flooring or something under the cone, this was to hide the pizza box, but it also gives it a really cool model effect. 

Have to wait for the foam clay to set and dry. 

Possibly might add more segments to the cone bit to make it wider. 

[a-place-for-stupid-things]

Concept Dump 3

9:00pm Somewhere in the Slums of Neon City.

Her door was open, in fact, it wasn't on its hinges anymore.

Someone had found her, her heart was racing as she was contemplating whether to run or face the music.

She chose the latter, because if they found her here, they'd find her anywhere.

She scanned her apartment using her drones, nothing.

There was nothing inside, all her security systems, code, everything broken into, defeated and for good measure the intruder decided to just break down her door.

The thing that pissed her off was that from the recordings of the break in, was that all it took was a single kick on her door, immediately bypassing all her electronic countermeasures.

Occam's razor. She should've expected it, thought about that first. But when you have a security system that puts mega corps to shame, you don't really think about that.

10:30pm

She had been waiting, scanning the net, police, criminal, everything for signs. There were none.

Who did this? Was she safe? It was late, curfew in effect.

The Oni had been terrorizing the corps in the city, the bombing of Oracle ltd. and the distributions of their "Singularity Program." was just icing on the cake at that point.

She had been following his activities around the world, hacking comms and cameras, creating websites because she was fascinated by him, The Oni.

The Only thing she hated about the Oni was the curfews were because of him, now she couldn't get takeout from her favourite ramen shop.

She now resolved to return back to her home, it had her stuff, and it had been long enough.

11:30pm

Outside her door she assessed the damage. A single kick broke the lock, this was enough to open the door immediately and get in, it didn't even trigger her alarm because she was so used to electronic attacks.

Then for good measure the intruder removed the door from its hinges even looking at her hidden camera.

How?! The camera was small, hidden, and yet he knew.

Then finally as a flex the intruder just cracked all her electronic defense measures, even adding documentations as to how he did it.

"Arrogant bastard" She would mutter under her breath.

"I am, aren't I."

He was still inside her house. But she searched every nook and cranny with her drones and scanners. Nothing came up, IR, UV, Thermal, Bio. Nothing.

Hear heart was in her throat, she was panicking, was this how she died?

"Your pizza is cold, and your taste is shit. Really anchovies? Atleast add other topics to compliment them, or do you like the fishy taste mixing with the carboard cheese of Doctor Joes?"

He was mocking her.

"Look at me when I am talking to you, Sophia Newman."

He knew her name. She turned to face the man and to her surprise it was none other than the Oni himself.

"Good girl." the Oni said looking her over "You and your friends have been stalking me, and it is annoying."

Was the Oni about to kill her? Fear became excitement, she knew she shouldn't feel so excited but then, she had been following the oni for nearly a year, and now he was here in front of her. She was giddy.

"Tsk." The Oni noticed her change of demeanour and while annoyed he was also amused at this sudden change, it wasn't unexpected just incredibly weird.

"Try not to fangirl too much with the proposition I am going to give you INK."

INK nodded her head a bit too eagerly and her glasses came flying off much to her shock and the Oni's amusement.

"Right." The Oni said chuckling "Look, while I dislike you for stalking me and creating that god awful website for weebs and shitters, I know just what you're capable of."

The Oni moved closer to her. Her heart was beating rapidly.

"You saved my life and identity after that mistake in Aurora. You wiped the footage, all of it. Thank you." He said, the normally robotic and partly distorted voice that usually came from the Oni was normal, sincere.

She was screaming internally, this was too much she was overloading.

"I want to ask if you'd like to enter a partnership, after all I am pretty sure you know who I am at this point, and I could use a skilled hacker assistant, I have been following your work."

OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH.

The Oni would sigh "I think I may have been too forward with you Sophia, I should have known you'd act like this. After all, we've been classmates for years now."

"WHAT?!" INK would blurt out shocked, confused, flustered, the Oni was her classmate?

"I'll leave it a that because I am sure you heard me, you have been hanging onto my words after all." He said smugly "Here, when you put yourself together contact me."

Her Dataslate would ping, she would recieve a new contact. When she looked up there was a dissipating cloud of black smoke, the Oni was gone.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Thoughts raced in Sophia's head, the Oni was her classmate, but who?

She would resolve to figure things out, but first she needed to 1. Contact the Oni when she calmed down, and 2. Fix her door and security by incorporating the Oni's suggestions.

[liamalexanderr]

THE CASHIER DIDN'T SEEM ANNOYED that he had interfered with her crossword. she did, however, stop to look at him and then got out from behind her counter. liam mentally prepared for a scolding for some reason, though he couldn't tell why. the nickname made him stop in his tracks, because besides his father there was only one other person .... "no," he protested, and did a double take. "jude ? i can't– i fucking refuse. i killed that nickname ages ago and i refuse to have it reappear now." he pulled her in for a hug, couldn't really help himself and was taken back to the two of them fighting on the playground. "who's to say that carboard isn't my favourite meal ? i happen to like the way it expands in my mouth." the snark came back as if they hadn't been apart for the better part of their lives, but he supposed old habits died hard. still, he put the pizza back in favour of the ramen. "jude," he said again, unable to push down the fondness in his voice. "how have you been ?"

brainteaser discarded like yesterday’s news ( technically, it was ), pen thrown onto the counter with a careless rattle once realization set in. it couldn’t have been, could it ? a narrowed gaze settled on the customer, just long enough to put any doubts jude had to rest; but she knew it was him. features kissed with age, though he still had that boyish youth so often mean-mugged by a competitive little girl staring him down from across a diamond. when her brothers let her get a couple of hits in, that is. “ thanks, junior. ” nickname, she so vividly remembered, rolled off her tongue in casual greeting. felt a bit weird to say, like it did when she first used it as a kid — was only following suit really, parroting the boys in an attempt to fit in at the time. she eventually stepped out from behind the counter, scuff of soles on freshly mopped linoleum an afterthought as she made a leisured stroll down the aisle. one adjacent to the wall of refrigerated displays cases where he stood. “ i'd go with the ramen, personally. unless you're into crisped cardboard with a dusting of cheese. ” a head tilt, corner of her lip curving into a grin — as if she were waiting for realization to strike him too. then again, maybe it wouldn't.

[klngfili]

It's called fashion look it up

[starfaring-princelotor]

Ate outta the trash every day sophomore year of HS, yall dont know what you're missing. The culture of dumpster dining is just amazing

If I was in charge of a school, no child would have to resort to seeking a meal out of the trash. There would be fresh food during lunch and when class sessions are over, especially for those students waiting for a ride home.