#carbs on demand

[thunderheadfred]

Why would my partner utter such cursed knowledge in the presence of my uterus

[venomouslj]

(via "High Carb Loading Funny Gym Quote" Racerback Tank Top for Sale by VenomousLJ)

[swytdoll]

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 [art: @hunnismokah :)]

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮: toji’s bulking and you’re ovulating! how can you keep your hands to yourself when all you want to do is touch? 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒩𝒯 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢: any color can read<3 size difference (toji has a monster cock ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა), blowjob, female oral, choking, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, cream-pie, explicit language, mirror sex, 69, toji fucks you in a headlock ݁𖥔 ݁˖

BULKING!TOJI who always seems to be wearing the sluttiest clothing. muscle tees that grip his meaty arms enticingly, showing off every curve and bulge of his well-defined biceps. his sweats always seem to hang too low on his hips, revealing a dark happy trail that leads down to his waistband. the fabric clinging to his thick thighs.

BULKING!TOJI who religiously carries a protein shaker with him, even on date nights, because he's serious about his bulking diet. he’s got a variety of protein powders, from chocolate to vanilla, and he loves mixing them with different fruits and oats to keep things interesting.

BULKING!TOJI who loves trying out new high-calorie recipes and often ropes you into cooking massive meals with him. you two have fun experimenting in the kitchen, making everything from giant stacks of protein pancakes to hearty chicken and rice dishes, always ensuring they meet his caloric needs. he’s genuinely grateful. often, hugging you from behind while you cook, placing the sloppiest kisses behind your ears, his tattooed arms coiled around your frame. his gratitude is evident in the way he nuzzles into your neck, whispering sweet nothings about how much he appreciates your efforts. “i love you, y’know that. . .right?”

BULKING!TOJI who’s noticeably chubbier, you like it. really like it, often burying yourself into his pudgy side with a satisfied sigh. “i could die like this.”

BULKING!TOJI who despite his intense workouts, always makes time to cuddle and watch movies, using you as his favorite "recovery" time. he loves resting his head on your lap while you binge-watch your favorite series, feeling your fingers run through his hair as he relaxes. “i hate this scene.”

BULKING!TOJI who gets annoyed and sleeps on the couch when you won’t stop playing with his tits. “you’re so damn annoying.”

BULKING!TOJI who you make sure has a secret stash of snacks in his gym bag for when he needs extra calories on the go. protein bars, nuts, and dried fruits are his go-to, and he always has a little something to munch on between sets or during quick breaks.

have a good workout<3 - signed your amazing beautiful girlfriend

BULKING!TOJI who becomes an expert at meal prepping, and his mini fridge is always stocked with containers of chicken, rice, and veggies. each container meticulously measured to ensure he gets the right amount of protein, carbs, and fats, and he takes pride in his perfectly organized fridge.

BULKING!TOJI who likes wearing your crop tops, flexing in front of the mirror. “take it off! you’re stretching my shit toji.” “no.”

BULKING!TOJI who can’t resist squeezing your face in his bicep, laughing as your chubby cheeks push together. “haha!”

BULKING!TOJI who just throws you over his shoulder during arguments. “i’ll put you down when you’re done being a brat.”

BULKINGTOJI! who thinks it’s dumb as you tie a pink ribbon around his wrist, demanding he stay still. he thinks it’s even dumber when you record it, the video boasting one-million likes on tiktok. “they loveeeeee you!”

BULKING!TOJI who’s entire hand covers your face. jeez, your poor cunt, he thinks.

BULKING!TOJI who can’t help but admire the way your swollen sticky lips suckle at his thick cock, pulling him back in greedily. usually, it’d take some time for him to ease into your tiny hole. but, you were ovulating today and after seeing your boyfriend walking around shirtless with nothing but boxers on, you practically jumped his bones.

BULKING!TOJI who presses all his weight onto you as he fucks your soppy pussy, the pressure in your back dull as he prods into that sweet spot from behind. pale veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, spreading you, revealing your puckering hole. a glob of warm spit followed by his thumb lubricating your asshole has you arching your back in anticipation. “papaaaa,” glossy eyes squeeze shut as he gently sinks his thumb into your asshole, pelvis relentlessly slapping into your sore ass. the sight has his dick twitching, “humph, look so pretty with both holes filled.”

BULKING!TOJI who doesn’t care that you’re overstimulated, rocking his dick into your tight velvety walls at a mean pace. you don’t know how many orgasms the man has yanked from you. “i know baby, doing so good. takin’ all of me like a big girl, fuckkkk.” glazed eyes watching the way you glisten on him as he folds you against the wooden headboard, your legs flush to your chest. “tojiiii,” you whine, he could get drunk off the way you whimper his name. “am i deep baby?” he groans, thick cream building on his base. “mhm!”

BULKING!TOJI who has you in the nastiest headlock, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other forcing you to look into the mirror. you’re a mess, disheveled hair, tear-stained cheeks, swollen lips. the man’s so fucking huge he covers your entire body. “unt, unt. eyes open beautiful.” he sends a particularly deep thrust that has you shivering. slick, slick, slick, a repetitive noise that has him grunting deeply into your ear.

BULKING!TOJI who eats your pussy while you suck his dick. it’s a struggle taking him, drool seeping down your chin as you slurp at the veiny masterpiece. it’s also a struggle to concentrate as he eats you out like a starved man, spitting, slapping, fingering. god, you’re gonna cum again. “cummin!”

BULKING!TOJI who watches as his cum trickles out of your pulsing hole, pushing it back inside with a frown. “stay.”

[ent-is-indecisive]

Juggling 4 sketches for sub eddie week weehoo

[rafeslittlepup]

you’re just sitting pretty on the porch, shirley temple in your hand, legs crossed all dainty, not a single thought behind your wide eyes, and rafe, arms crossed, standing over you like some smug psycho.

“coulda been ugly for you, sweetheart. real ugly. imagine you being a… bitch with a pixie haircut and a linkedin addiction... who drinks burnt office coffee” he says, confident he has saved you from the horrors of feminism, even though you’ve been sipping pink drinks and getting mani-pedis your whole life. it was still a heroic act in his mind.

“what’s linkedin?”

“exactly, angel. exactly.” he grins.

don’t even get me started on your closet.

“what the fuck are you wearing? jeans? next thing you’re gonna grow armpit hair!”

and you’re just standing there on the verge of tears because he’s being so mean and dramatic. he feels a little bad.

“baby… no tears… c’mere…” he says as he scoops you like a princess.

“you don’t gotta think about all that scary feminist shit.”

he bans baggy jeans after that. he loves it when you wear reformation mini skirts, love shack fancy floral dresses, staud beaded little handbags. that one white bella hadid x frankies bikinis mini dress that makes him act like a caveman. maybe a pink mini kelly for the future wife energy. and always demands “approval twirls” in every outfit. “spin for me, princess.”

no carbs before noon. no seconds. no soda. no food that will bloat you. but rafe doesn’t even have to say most of it anymore. you know better. you drink your almond milk strawberry matcha like it’s gospel. smile when he pulls your fries away halfway through lunch. only reformer pilates. “i don’t want you to look like man, princess.” he’d say

he kisses you like a prize he won and plans on keeping forever. and you… you have never felt so loved.

[emptyheadedhousecow]

still fat

900 words · 5 min read · emptyheadedhousecow.tumblr.com · November 2024

The funnel is empty. The blanket is dotted with crumbs. The pizza boxes are on the floor — there's a grease stain on the bedsheet where it had been carelessly placed half an hour ago, but that's a job for tomorrow. The box of aftercare chocolates is open and the best ones are already gone. It was hot, but the libido is gone now, and appetites are more than sated. Your feeder is curled up beside you, half-asleep already, small beside you, eclipsed by your mass. The pain has been kissed and rubbed away, but you're still swollen and stuffed, and most importantly, you're still fat.

They woke up before you. The pizza boxes are gone, and the funnel too; through the walls you hear the dishwasher churning, something sizzling on a stovetop, and fresh coffee being ground. There's a hunger brewing inside you already, but the stretchmarks on your sides are itching again, and the moisturiser is just out of reach. They'd jump at the chance to help, but it's not sexy right now, you just want the discomfort gone. You shift and roll, and build momentum, and grab the bottle, and then come crashing back down on the mattress in a breathless heap, your fat splayed out in exactly the same way it was before. You breathe, and recover, and you have to remind yourself, like every other morning, that your body has grown into something made of carbs and lard, even though everything else is back to normal, you're still fat.

Your day would be easy for anyone else, but everything is an ordeal for you. It seems like every time you shower you discover a new fold that needs to be cleaned and powdered. You need to catch your breath while washing your hair. You could wear clothes, if you wanted, but it's so much easier not to try, and you're increasingly unsure just how long it's been since you wore anything at all. Your feeder brings you all the food you could want, four meals a day or five if you're lucky... and you're grateful, of course you are, but not every meal is sex. You eat because you're hungry — a deep hunger that's only satisfied when you're pushed to breaking point — and you eat to shush, if only for a little while, that tiny voice inside you that's always demanding more more more. You knew this would happen; that every time you push yourself, your appetite grows a little... and you've pushed yourself a lot. You don't always eat because you want to, you eat because you HAVE to, because that's what a body as fat as yours craves, and day after day, you're still fat.

And then the funnel's back in play, and another order is lined up on the pizza app. Can you down the pitcher of cream before the pizzas arrives, and then the pizzas too? It's always an offer, never coerced. It was such a struggle last time, you only barely made it, but that only means it'll be easier now. And the tiny voice inside you can't be silenced, and the deep hunger is so very demanding, and it does drive you wild to see them this excited. You agree. You know you won't be able to stop yourself from pushing yourself to your limit, again, and you know that if you manage it, next time there might be another pizza on top, and that's far beyond what any normal person could eat, and as exciting as that is, you can't help but worry a little. But the preparations are underway, and your feeder's in the kitchen already, and all you need to do is eat, which you're amazing at, so this is just the best option, right? After all, you've done this a hundred times, what's one more? Tonight won't change anything, not really — either way, you're still fat.

The next day is always the same as the day before. Your feeder is dressed in a tenth of the time it takes you to shuffle to the edge of the bed and you're exhausted already. A kiss and a smile and you're helped to your feet, but you're not steady, and your balance is always unfamiliar, and it wasn't so long ago that it wouldn't even have occurred to you that you might need help getting up, and yet here it is, a development as casual as a second portion of breakfast. It ought to worry you but you are so very hungry, and the little voice is louder than your own thoughts these days, even though the pressure from last night's feast remains. Food is brought directly to the bedroom, once a rare treat but now the norm simply because it's getting harder to walk to the kitchen, even assisted. Getting dressed isn't an option anymore, for sure there's no clothes that still fit you, and that means no going outside, even in the car. Not that you've been outside in a long time. Perhaps you begin to slowly realise, if you hadn't been in denial about it already, that your last opportunity to lose the weight has quietly disappeared, who knows how long ago, and you never even noticed. But that doesn't seem nearly as important as finishing the plate of food that's in front of you. Maybe you'll get a chance to think about that later, maybe not — it feels like a very permanent fact of your life that you're still fat, forever.

[wosospacegirl]

I absolutely falling, literally, could we have some headcannons about aggie and reader?

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: soft girlfriend

Read more about Aggie and reader here

..

Period

-> Y/n and Aggie have a full-on, printed-out period protocol, and it is not even a joke. This isn’t some casual list of dos and don’ts, it’s a serious survival guide–at least for Aggie. 

-> Aggie keeps it tucked away in the drawer of their coffee table, laminated for easy access. It’s color-coded and everything, a true masterpiece of precautionary planning. 

-> Y/n, bless her, turns into the most irrational, moody, and dramatic version of herself when her period hits, and over the years, Aggie’s learned the hard way that the only way to survive these few days is with a well-organized, foolproof system. You might think that Aggie is being melodramatic, but no, she needs it!

-> It all started a few months after they moved in. Y/n had been snappy all day, until they had a whole fight about it, and Aggie realized something had to change. So, she did what any practical, logical person would do: she created the "Y/n’s Period Protocol."

-> The rules are simple–but sacred!

Give her space:  at least an hour of alone time to wallow in her feelings.

Snacks on demand: Aggie’s job is to keep a steady supply of comfort food, with a special emphasis on chocolate and carbs. No questions asked. No judgment.

The "Just Ask" rule:  Whenever Y/n says, “I don’t know what I need!” Aggie has to respond with, “What do you want, babe?” to remind her that she’s not the only one who’s been hit with the ‘hormonal roller coaster,’ and that Aggie, unfortunately, does not read minds.

No logic allowed: Aggie’s learned not to try and reason with Y/n when she’s deep in her period-induced emotions. Logic? Gone. Trying to explain how ridiculous the argument is? Forget it. Let it go.

Cuddles and TV: The protocol mandates at least three hours of binge-watching their favorite comfort shows. But the deal behind it? Aggie has to keep quiet and just cuddle with Y/n until she feels ok again.

-> The first time she showed it to Y/n, she was half-expecting Y/n to laugh it off, but instead, Y/n burst into tears and thanked her for creating it. Saying something about ‘being loved is to be seen’, Aggie had never heard of this before, but she enjoyed the kiss Y/n gave on her cheek.

-> “You really do care,” Y/n sniffled between sobs, and Aggie had to hold back a smile.

-> "Of course I care," Aggie had replied, “Now…let’s read the protocol…what do you need right now? And be specific, please.

-> It’s become a ritual over time. Whenever Y/n’s period arrives, Aggie is ready. She’s got the chocolate stash, the fluffy blankets, and the TV remote. The protocol has become a symbol of their love and patience, and understanding of each other’s quirks

-> Especially for Aggie, since she had a hard time dealing with Y/n when she was on her period. Aggie is very logical and pragmatic, and when Y/n was PMSing? She became the complete opposite of it.

Disagreements

-> When Aggie and Y/n have a disagreement, it’s a weird mix of frustration and confusion, because they genuinely don’t like staying mad at each other. They’re both quick to want to resolve things, but the problem is they’re more irritated that they’re arguing in the first place than by whatever the issue actually was.

-> Their relationship it’s just so chill that when they’re not on the same page, it feels like the world is falling apart, even if it is something small. Because why the hell is this weird feeling in Aggie's chest? Is this what normal couples feel when they fight

-> Their arguments are never the dramatic, shouting kind. Instead, it’s this quiet, unspoken tension that fills the air completely.

-> It’s not a battle of words, or who is right and who is wrong. Both of them just walk around the apartment pretending the other doesn’t exist, trying to act like nothing’s wrong when everything feels heavy.

->Every movement feels more deliberate, like even the smallest gesture carries some kind of weight. There are no sharp words–just the silence of two people who don't know how to fix whatever is broken.

-> Neither of them is particularly good at staying mad, but they are both stubborn people. The argument will end in a matter of who’ll crack first. Y/n, being a little less stubborn than Aggie, tends to be the first one to break, and it drives her nuts when she knows she’s the one who has to make the first move.

-> She usually sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes and muttering, “Okay, I’m gonna order some pizza… You want some or…?”

-> She tried to sound casual, but she couldn't hide the hint of hope in her voice that maybe, just maybe, Aggie can stop ignoring her and that Y/n can also stop being annoying. It's like a truce.

-> That’s when the silence breaks, and Aggie–who might have been too proud to speak first– finally says. "Yeah, okay. I’m sorry," she says quietly, and Y/n can’t help but smile, despite everything.

->I t’s in those moments, when the tension finally evaporates, that they realize just how silly their argument was in the first place. They always end up kissing it out. No matter how they got there, they always came back to each other.

Losing

-> Y/n and Aggie couldn’t be more different in how they handle losses, and they are complete opposites. Y/n has this incredible ability to just brush things off, to deal with things quickly. While she definitely cares, her approach to losing is all about keeping it light.

-> She jokes, makes a little joke about how the universe seems to be playing a prank on the Arsenal team, and somehow manages to stay upbeat.

-> It's almost like she refuses to let one bad game weigh her down for too long.

-> Aggie, on the other hand, takes losses hard. She doesn’t have the same ability to move on quickly, and her emotions run deep. When she loses, it’s like she goes through the entire stages of emotions. First, there’s the anger, fueled by pure frustration at herself.

-> She blames herself for every mistake, and she tears herself down, frustrated that she couldn't have done better.

-> Then, the anger shifts to the team. She gets snappy, frustrated with everyone around her, even though she doesn't mean to take it out on them. Next comes the referees–because, of course, they’re always the ones to blame in her mind when things don’t go right.

-> But the hardest part is when she goes quiet. Once the anger fades, she retreats into herself and kinda of withdraws completely. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone–not even Y/n!

-> She isolates herself, hiding away in their room and shutting the world out.

-> Y/n always knows when it’s that stage. She doesn’t try to push Aggie out of her shell or anything. Instead, she gives her the space she needs, letting her process in her own way. Y/n might be frustrated too, but she understands that sometimes silence is what Aggie needs most.

-> And then, when Aggie can’t stand the silence any longer, she walks over, quietly sitting beside Y/n. Without a word, she lets her head fall into Y/n’s lap, silently asking for comfort only Y/n can provide. Y/n doesn’t need to say anything. She just lets her hand gently run through Aggie’s hair.

-> “Better games are coming,” Y/n will whisper softly, trying to remind that one bad game doesn’t define who Aggie is.

-> “You’re gonna bounce back, like you always do.” And no matter the outcome–whether Aggie’s team has just lost to Arsenal, Y/n’s team–Y/n holds space for her, letting her know that defeat is just…temporary. It's never easy, but Y/n always helps her find.

..

Notes: Please let me know what you guys think about it.

More about Aggie and reader here

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 4: market day

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You've heard a lot of people say that the honeymoon period only lasts the first few weeks of marriage and that after that things can start to get complicated. But the rule didn’t seem to apply to you.

Maybe it was because you two were young and enthusiastic, because you were too busy missing him to think about arguing, or maybe it was just that you really were made for each other.

You often tried to steal as much time as possible from your husband’s demanding job because being an FBI agent often took him away from you, and sometimes having a few domestic moments was all you both desired.

Grocery shopping was one of those activities that really made you feel like a married couple, and it saved you many trips to the store for food.

“Which do you prefer? Soy or almond milk?”

“Soy has phytoestrogens and more health benefits in moderate amounts. Almond is for people looking to maintain weight, and although it’s healthy, it’s low in protein.”

“Soy, got it,” you said with a small smile at his intellectual response.

Every time it was grocery shopping day, your job was always to push the cart and grab an item or two within reach, but most of the time, Spencer was the one in charge of selecting your groceries. After all, he had a pretty extensive knowledge of the benefits of each food. He always wanted to take care of you, and since he was often away, one way he could do that was by ensuring you were well-nourished.

“Look, I found some tea,” he announced happily, making you look away from the yogurt section in the fridge to pay attention. “Lavender, passionflower, valerian…”

“For your insomnia?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, dropping the boxes into the cart “And some mint and lemon for you.”

“You know me so well,” you smiled sweetly, leaning on the plastic handle, letting him gently caress your cheek.

You two had known each other for so many years that there were details about each other you knew by instinct. You knew his favorite brand of coffee, how he liked it with a specific number of sugar spoons, that you needed to buy him two sets of socks because he always liked mismatched ones, and you knew the exact spot on his head to stroke to help him fall back asleep after a nightmare. He knew you hated wearing shoes indoors, that you had a specific way of sleeping, and that you hated the smell of cinnamon. There were so many things you did as if they were second nature that it seemed impossible to list them all.

The truth is, people at Spencer’s work were quite surprised to find out that not only did he have a girlfriend, but that you were getting married. The event was private, very intimate, and not at all pretentious because that wasn’t your style.

You both had no problem moving into a new, slightly more spacious apartment, now that everything was doubled. But you were managing it quite well, to be honest.

You continued strolling through the grocery store, staying close to your husband, and then remembered you needed some bread. You pushed the cart over and stood next to a woman who seemed to be in a dilemma, staring at two loaves of bread as if trying to analyze which was better.

“The best one is that one,” you said, hoping not to make her uncomfortable. She looked at you confused, so you decided to speak again. “It has less sugar and the necessary carbs for good nutrition. There’s a study about it; it’s true.”

“Oh, sweetie, I wasn’t looking for the healthiest, just the one with the best quantity and price. It’s for my kids. Those children could eat an entire loaf in a day, and I can’t afford that.”

You laughed honestly and gave her a look of understanding. She was a bit older than you but not old enough to be considered elderly.

“I think you’re right.”

“I love my kids, but I won’t lie… sometimes they drive me crazy,” she confessed, and you both laughed again.

“Darling, do you want me to make pasta for you this week? Rossi taught me a recipe that…”

He trailed off when he noticed you had company, and for some reason, he suddenly felt shy.

“That’s fine, love. We can eat whatever you want,” you replied kindly. “I already have something to go with it.”

You winked at him when he noticed the wine you had tossed into the cart, and then he smiled and went off in search of the necessary ingredients.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Husband,” you corrected her. There was a strange pride in saying that.

“Husband! Oh, that’s so sweet. How long have you been married?”

“We’ll be married for four months next week.”

“Young love, so beautiful,” she sighed, as if nostalgic for a time that now seemed too far away. “And he helps you with the shopping?”

“I help him, actually,” you laughed. “He’s the one who selects everything. Before we got married, I had the worst eating habits, and he hated that. So we try to eat better now.”

“Marriages are so different now,” she said, and upon hearing that, you expected to endure a conservative speech and internally dreaded it. “My husband never joins me for things like this; he’s not even interested. In this and in much more, to be honest. And it’s nice to see that girls nowadays can have these kinds of relationships. You know, where they’re supported.”

Somehow, that touched your heart, and suddenly you wished you could hug the woman, but you held back. Then, you looked over at Spencer. He was in the vegetable section, apparently comparing two bags of spinach. You could recognize him in a crowd without a doubt, with his slouched posture, his messy hair (freshly cut, by the way), and his peculiar formal attire.

You had always appreciated having the man in your life, even when you didn’t have a romantic relationship, but you had never stopped to think how lucky you were that he had decided to love you.

“I’m glad too,” you said in what was barely a whisper.

You didn’t say anything else. The woman said her goodbyes kindly, and you just smiled at her, too busy gazing at the man with loving eyes. You stood there watching him, and when he approached, he couldn’t help but notice your strange expression.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just had a very revealing conversation with that woman.”

“Huh, yeah?” he hummed, dropping a collection of items into the shopping cart “And what was it about?”

“About you,” you answered casually, lifting your hands to place them on his chest and then sliding them to his cheeks “Talking to her reminded me that you’re the best husband in the world.”

Carefully and affectionately, you stood on your tiptoes and planted a loud kiss on him. Spencer laughed as his cheeks blushed, returning the favor with a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know if I am, but I try.”

“And that’s why I love you,” you confessed sweetly.

And then, it was Spencer who felt lucky.

[bbydoll18xx]

Guilty As Sin?

'We've already done it in my head'

Paige Bueckers x reader

I've never written anything, so this could very well be terrible, but I have a teeny tiny crush and it's killing me lol here we go!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: some naughty thoughts, ANGST, friends to lovers aka my fave

....................................................................................................

If there was one thing you had learned throughout your time at uconn, it was that it was pretty fucking difficult being Paige Buecker’s best friend. 

You had met her early in your freshman year when the boisterous blonde was partnered with you in an introductory biology course. You attempted to hold back a groan and an eyeroll as you heard your professor assign the two of you together for an upcoming lab project. You hated group projects, and even more, you could not stand the prospect of not getting a good grade in a class so important for your major. 

Paige, even as a freshman, was extremely popular. Her incessant smirk caused girls to blush under her gaze, and the boys basically broke their necks trying to impress her. She was the type of girl who knew she was hot shit.

Unfortunately, that was your type.

As Paige strolled over to where you were waiting for her, you tried desperately to ignore the uptick of your pulse. ‘Get it together,’ you thought to yourself. Girls like that should have no control over you.

“Hey, I’m Paige. I don’t think we’ve met. I would’ve remembered someone like you,” she murmurs flirtatiously, looking you up and down. Trying to keep the pink out of your cheeks and taking a deep breath, you hold out your hand and introduce yourself. 

That was the beginning of the wildly complex and intimate friendship you would build with Paige.

As a senior in college, you had learned many things: don't drink copious amounts of alcohol without eating some carbs first, avoid getting into ubers alone, do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your TA, and falling in love with your best friend is never good.

It started off innocently enough.

Paige was clingy and affectionate to those she was close with. You, being bisexual and surrounded by mostly straight people before coming to uconn, were hesitant with showing any sort of affection. You had always worried about accidentally giving your girl friends the wrong impression. Paige never cared, though, as she conditioned you into accepting hugs and tentative hand-holding. You grew to crave her warm, longer fingers wrapped around yours or her hand resting on your leg when she’s next to you at dinner or in the car. 

You had realized you were head over heels for her in your sophomore year, and the rest was history.

History you’d very much like to forget.

You were laying on the couch in your apartment. Music filled the room and you basked in the warmth of the sunshine. You rarely have moments of peace anymore, now that school had started back up.

Suddenly, the front door flung open dramatically, allowing several members of uconn’s women’s basketball team to enter as if they owned the place. 

“Hey girlie pop!” screamed KK. “We are going out tonight, and before you say no, you are coming with us.” 

“What happened to bodily autonomy?” You questioned with an eye roll. This happened all the time. Paige and her teammates had made it their personal mission to turn you into an alcoholic.

“Fuck that,” chirped Paige. “You had all week to chill, and I will not stand for that shit for another minute. Party P is comin' out in full force tonight, and I expect the same from yo' ass."

You let your eyes lock with hers. God that shade of blue made you want to drown in it, gasping for sanity as if it was air. 

“C’mon, you always do this. We’re going crazy tonight,” demanded Nika.

Pretending to think about it, you hesitantly agree. You didn’t have any control when it came to Paige. Whatever she wanted from you, she got. You chalked it up to being best friends, but your stupid brain always reminded you of the true source of power.

Paige, Nika, KK, and Azzi all celebrated as you acquiesced, already planning drink orders, outfits, and song requests at the bar they always frequented.

You sighed as Paige sat down next to you. You could handle this. You always did. Focused on anything other than her, you pick at a piece of lint on the soft green couch. Everything seemed to be a distraction from her. The heat of her body sends your pulse racing, just as it did the very first time you met. She really was an enigma.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” she murmurs softly. “Wouldn't be the same if you weren’t there.”

Taking a page out of the Paige playbook, you look her up and down and respond with an “I know.” She momentarily wears a look of shock, before her lips slide into that smirk again, and she laughs. The sound makes you want to run through a field of flowers and then jump from a building.

The pregame was, like always, chaotic, loud, and gave you anxiety. A drunk Paige was a clingy Paige, and you were not sure you could handle the extra touching tonight. One of the bottles of vodka that sat on the counter in the kitchen was beckoning to you, and you decided quickly that the only way you were getting through the night was with copious amounts of alcohol.

As you swallowed with a grimace, feeling the burn slide down your throat and settle into a warm pool in your belly, the door opened. Paige appeared, rubbing her hands together, looking like she was ready to fuck shit up. Your shit already felt ruined as you gulped at the sight of her. The black crop top she had on made you quickly spin around, shooting another shot in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the hunger that was brewing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. We don’t need you wasted before we even leave,” Paige taunts teasingly, as she saunters over to you.

With your cheeks pink and inhibitions already lowered, you licked your lips in a manner you could only hope looked seductive and put the bottle into her outstretched hand. For the second time today, a flicker of surprise graced her features. ‘Good,’ you thought. ‘Two can play that game.’ 

As Ted’s was close to the apartments you all were living in, it was decided that a walk would be more efficient than attempting to wrangle the numerous already drunk girls into ubers.

You cherished the warm breeze flowing through your hair, allowing it to briefly sober you up.  Walking alongside Azzi and Caroline, you let out another small sigh, catching their attention. Your feelings were evident to pretty much everyone except Paige, and her teammates often tried to coax you into admitting your feelings to her. 

“Try to have fun tonight. Find someone hot to grind on, and you’ll feel better,” Azzi said unhelpfully. You laughed, but it wasn't a bad idea. “You’re right. I need a distraction. And preferably someone who is not blonde,” You muttered, causing Azzi and Caroline to giggle. 

Paige’s head whipped around at the sound of laughter. She pouted for a second before bounding over to you. She secretly hated the attention you gave her teammates; she wanted you all to herself.

Paige was possessive, as well as mouthy when drunk, which could be a messy combination. But Paige did not care about being messy tonight. She wanted your attention and your attention only. She knew she could very well embarrass herself, but the desperation of needing your attentiveness was far more important. She could handle her anxieties in the morning. 

“There’s my pretty princess,” Paige announces loudly, taking your hand into hers, almost possessively. The pet name wasn’t unfamiliar. Paige called you every name under the sun except the one on your birth certificate, yet the sudden affection caused your heart to lurch dangerously.

You needed a drink.

The bar was already buzzing when you walked in alongside the girls, still being pulled along by the tall blonde. You were fortunate it was dark inside, allowing a sense of privacy to indulge in the intimacy Paige was supplying to you.

She places a hand on your waist, looking down at you. “Imma get you a drink, babe. Stay here with the girls, and do not let any creeps touch you.” You could tell the few drinks she had at the pregame were already getting to her. She was getting more proprietorial.

You nodded, but you wanted to see how far you could push her. You’d do anything for her attention, even if that meant flirting with a boring guy to test her. She was sexy when she was pissed.

You fantasized about the way her jaw clenches when she's angry, as you scoped out for someone to be the target of your favorite unhealthy game. A six-foot blonde with light blue eyes catches your gaze, and you smirk. ‘Game time,’ you think.

With a smoldering look in your eyes, and the alcohol in your veins to keep you feeling confident, you walk up to the guy and introduce yourself. You find out his name was Josh and quickly shift in closer to him, feigning intimacy you would only ever want with Paige. 

It’s not long before you feel Paige slide between you and Josh, creating the distance you wanted since you walked up to him. 

“Paigey!” you exclaim. “This is Josh. He wants to dance with me.”

You see Paige jaw clench in annoyance and she pushes the drink she brought you into your hand before wrapping her now free arm around your waist with her hand splayed against your belly. You shiver at the contact.

“Go away before I make you, bro. She’s mine,” Paige practically barks at Josh. He shrinks away with a weird expression on his face.

You weren’t sad to see him go.

“Thanks for rescuing me, Paigey,” you beam up at her and take a drink. Paige’s eyes never leave your lips as you bite them, looking around the crowded bar. Your lips are pink from the gloss you just applied, and she thinks about how they’d feel against hers. 

Paige would never admit it aloud, but she thinks about you. She thinks about your dimples when you smile at her. She thinks about your laugh. She thinks about how you taste. In her head, they are together. In her head, you are spread out underneath her, begging for her tongue, her fingers, for anything.

Paige is used to people throwing themselves at her, and the idea of rejection, especially from you, makes her shrink back in fear. 

Paige’s eyes are hazy as the dirty Shirley starts to float its way through her veins. She relishes in the feeling of lowered inhibitions and the perfect excuse to get closer to you. Paige pulls you into her to dance. With the alcohol fully in your system, as well, you giggle and seductively dance against her. You can feel the tight muscles of her abs up against you, and you swallow thickly. It's difficult to ignore the way it makes you feel hot and sticky. 

“God, P,” you mumbled against her pale throat. 

“You look so good dancin’ against me, you don’t even know, babe,” Paige replies with her signature smirk.

You could feel the boundaries of your friendship slowly stretching to accommodate the feelings of lust sparking between the two of you.

Between the dancing and the large amounts of alcohol flowing, the night flew by quickly. Soon, you were getting pulled through the door and back out into the chilly Connecticut air with Paige holding you steady. You were a notorious lightweight compared to the girls of the basketball team, and that hadn’t changed tonight. 

“P-paigeyyy,” you whined needily. “Need you,” you pouted up at the blonde. The other girls in your vicinity shared curious looks with each other. You had never acted like this before whilst drunk, and no one really knew how to respond, Paige included. 

“What do ya need from me, princess?” Paige asked with a chuckle.

You motion for her to lean down, and you whisper in her ear, “kisses.” 

“Oh? You wanna kiss me?” Paige questions, feeling all the blood rush to her head.

You nod with a dreamy look on your face. You were going to regret this in the morning, but right now all you could think about was how soft her lips looked and how much you wished you could be hers.

'We've already done it in my head,' you thought drunkenly.

Paige looks down at you with an unrecognizable look, but she presses a soft kiss on your forehead and says, ‘“let's get you home and to bed, doll.” 

As you stumble back into Paige’s apartment and onto her bed, you look up at her and raise your hands over your head, making grabby hands at her. Paige rolls her eyes fondly but helps you get undressed. Walking you into the bathroom, she lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly, helping you take your makeup off and brush your teeth.

It felt so domestic you could cry.

Climbing into bed, your drunk mind prepared itself to sleep next to Paige. It would never feel like enough to you. You wanted all of her. 

Paige lies down behind you, wrapping a long and muscular arm around your waist, caging you in just the way you like it. You are a second away from sleep enveloping you, when you think you hear Paige whisper, “I am so in love with you.”

Your heart stops.

You wake up the next morning with your head pounding. You squint your eyes and look around. Paige is still sleeping next to you. You gently smile as you gaze at her peaceful figure. You wish you could stop time to stay here in this bubble with her. Soon, you’ll go back to being just Paige’s best friend, and the relationship you’ve built up in your head will come crashing back down.

Soon enough, the blonde wakes up, ripping you from your daydreams. She smiles at you, and turns over to completely face your body. “Crazy night, huh,” she alludes slyly.

Your eyebrows crinkle in question. “Did something happen?"

“Uh yeah…you don’t remember what you said to me?” she asks.

You shake your head in confusion, but you start to attempt to recall the events of last night, and all of a sudden it comes back to you. You recall asking her to kiss you, hanging all over her, and the incessant pouting and neediness. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment, and immediately you jump out of bed to leave.

“Wait, don’t go please,” Paige pleads in a way that is startling unlike her.

You ignore her pleas, gathering your stuff and running out of her apartment. Tears burn your eyes as they threaten to slide down your face. You try to stifle your sobs as you climb the stairs two at a time and get to your own door. You throw yourself into your shower as you attempt to drown out your own cries. 

As you sat on the floor of your shower you could not believe how stupid you were. Drunk flirting with your best friend would be the end of your friendship. You could see it already. Paige coming to you, trying to let you down easy. You felt so humiliated.

You sat there until the water got uncomfortably cold, leaving goosebumps against your skin. As you toweled off, you replayed the events of last night in your head for the millionth time. The dancing in the bar, the walk back to Paige’s apartment, her helping you undress. You sigh at the idea of losing her before it all comes crashing back.

“I am so in love with you,” she had whispered into your hair. You still at the memory. Paige loves you? Sure it's common knowledge that you loved and craved her with all of your being, but a love that was requited? It was almost too much to think about. 

You grab your phone that you had left abandoned on the couch and see the messages from the blonde. Messages of regret and longing fill your phone. One more pops up as you scroll, saying ‘I’m coming over. I won’t let you avoid me over this bullshit.’ 

A few moments passed before there was a loud banging on the door to your apartment. You had never felt so appreciative that your roommates had left for the weekend. Your breath grew ragged as the door slowly creaked open, revealing a panting Paige. Her blue eyes looked almost wild as they met yours.

“C’mere, just let me explain,” she says quietly. You weren't used to Paige being quiet and almost solemn. It scared you, just as the thought of confrontation did. This was not a conversation you wanted to have. 

Fighting your own instincts to immediately bolt, you gingerly sit on the couch where she had already made herself comfortable. Some things never change.

“Listen,” she starts out cautiously. “I never want things to be weird between us. I never imagined I would be feeling this way towards someone who was just a friend, but…I think we haven’t been ‘just friends’ in a while.”

You finally allow yourself to meet her gaze, trying to search for any semblance of where this conversation could possibly be going. Surprisingly, she looked hopeful, as if she knew something you did not.

“I-i want you. Like, more than a friend,” Paige stutters out, “And I think you feel the same way. We’ve both been too scared to admit it, but I’m tired of ignoring how you literally make me feel whole.”

You blink back more tears in realization that the last three years of hell of being only Paige Bueckers’ best friend was finally coming to an end. She could finally be all yours and yours only.

Without thinking, you place a hand on her jaw, bringing her to your lips. They meet yours with such hesitancy you almost think you’ve ruined the delicate balance of what you are to each other at the moment. Paige lets out a breathy sigh and pulls you onto her lap. 

You were heavenstruck. 

As the both of you finally pull away from the drug of a kiss, you look at each other and giggle.

“So much for the dramatics, I guess,” laughs Paige. 

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Not my fault,” you pout. “I have no control when it comes to you, P.”

“Same,” grins Paige. “The only thing left to do is figure out how to tell the girls. They’ve all been beggin’ me to tell you ‘bout my lil crush on you.”

“Those bitches knew?” you ask incredulously.

“Well yeah,” Paige says. “I’m not subtle.”

You giggle at how stupid you felt. The signs were there all along, but the fear of rejection and the cloud of lust had obscured any indications of reciprocity. 

“Let’s just start making out the next time we’re in front of them and see how they react,” Paige suggests with a waggle of her eyebrows. 

You could hear the whoops and cheers already.

“Deal,” you say blissfully. 

She was finally yours. 

[souliebird]

Okay. So.

I keep trying to write this and it's not clicking so. Let's do this as a My brain literally rambling with minor grammar edits. Let's go. ((I'm 🍃))

Hero!Dex!drabble time bby

Dex lives across the hall. You run into each other some times. Small polite neighbor talk if it's relevant. You don't know each other names.

The idea is you are the daughter of an Irish gang boss, with your brother being a high ranking member. You've newly run away from the family and are hiding in Hell's Kitchen. Shady apartment building, cash rent, no names.

Until Bullseye comes back from a rough Daredevil fight at the same moment as you. And you know exactly who Bullseye is.

But instead of panicking, you just go, "Oh shit, hold on, I have field medic training. Do you have a kit?"

And he's just like "Huh? Yes. Okay".

And Dex let's you in. You patch him up without asking anything while Dex tries to not panic.

Then you just tell him to wait a moment and he is like "Okay." Because he knows you know. He should kill you, but you're being nice to him.

He wants to Trust.

And you come back really quick with some left overs being like "Look here, eat this. It's got lots of protein and carbs, you'll need it. Just pop it in the microwave for five minutes, it'll be good. That bowl is microwave safe."

And Dex is just like. "okay. Yes." He likes that you're not asking questions because questions means he'd have to kill you

You're just helping him. A good person.

You leave after that.

Then you pretend it's back to normal but Dex is Dex.

But he's sure to keep his distance this time.

Time passes.

Dex wakes up to banging from across the hall. Early morning. Your door is open. He goes inside. Two men are assaulting you - you're pinned with a knife in your hand, clearly mid-fight with one guy while the other watches.

Dex does not think.

You crawl towards him. He grabs you, takes you back to his apartment, you do not fight him. He starts demanding answers.

You tell him everything.

They were looking for your brother. You haven't seen him in years, even before you left. He's turned into a state's witness and your dad thinks you'd know where he'd hide.

He's right but you'd never tell him that.

Dex looks at you very clearly. Right in the eye and Bullseye asks.

"Does he know anything incriminating about you?"

"Yes."

"Would you go to jail?"

"Yes."

"Do you want your father dead for sending his men after you?"

Pause.

"Yes."

"Okay."

He takes you to a hotel four hours away. He lets you block the doors with furniture. You cried in the car and are just tired now. He waits until you fall asleep. He leaves a note.

You wake up and panic and bit, but the note helps. He tells you he'll be back and you want to Trust that.

He saved you. He wouldn't bring you all this way to kill you. He's Bullseye. You saw him in his weird little Villain costume. He kills people in public like all the time no problem.

He's going to kill your family. He's going to set you free.

He's going to cause So Much Fucking Chaos in the underbelly of the city. It might vibrate all the way back to Cork.

That makes you kind of giddy because they all deserve it. All of them, especially your brother.

But you kinda deserve it, too.

You never hurt anyone. You've never threatened. You don't want to. You were happy to play the naive one because it meant one less criminal. But you know everything. You couldn't stop it.

Your cousin's ex-wife was a mole in the FBI. You'd be dead before you could find a lawyer.

You could very easily pretend to be dead now, though.

It's something to think about when you aren't panicking.

You hate being alone. You are terrified of someone busting in. You sit and watch bad cable for hours bc it's the only way to stay sane.

You don't sleep and you chug bad motel coffee.

Dex comes back after ten hours.

"If I don't tell you anything, you can't use it against me later."

You get it.

"Are you hurt?"

You patch him up with what's in the bathroom.

He bought clothes and supplies on his way back. He insists you go shower first. He doesn't ask why you didn't shower before.

You once again panic at being alone.

He comes in and you end up in the shower together. You keep to yourselves, backs turned. You only talk when he asks if you are finished - he has to move around you to get out.

You are.

You dress . He brought cheap ready to eat food. You both eat that while watching bad cable. You both comment on it and joke.

You still don't know his name.

He lets you push the second bed against the door. You sleep in the same bed, with you closer to the wall. Your head is on his chest.

"Thank you for saving me."

He doesn't reply.

You sleep.

He watches you all night.

And scene.

[rigby-oconnell]

Passing Out Is So Not a Vibe

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon that left this in my inbox <3

Request: "Heyy, idk if u’re taking requests but…Can I ask you plastics x reader where reader faints because an exhausting workout (she pushes herself too much) and they get over worried and Regina scolds Reader. Thank you so much!" Poly!Plastics x reader

After a few weeks of hanging with the Plastics, you push yourself too hard trying to live up to their standards. But when you collapse mid-workout, they show you something totally unexpected: they actually care. Even Regina. Especially Regina.

Tags/ warnings:  Slight Hurt/Comfort, Regina George x Reader focused, Female Friendships(but it could be more), Reader-insert, slight angst with a Happy Ending, Fainting, food/body image mention, light swearing, emotional vulnerability

Request are open!

You weren’t sure what was worse—the way your lungs burned, or the fact that Regina George hadn’t looked away from you once in the last five minutes.

The gym was too hot. Or maybe it was just you. You were sweating so much it felt like your skin didn’t fit right. Your vision flickered at the edges, but you pushed through it. You had to.

Regina was doing reps on the bench beside you, calm and composed, like she could lift the whole school without breaking a sweat. Gretchen was bouncing between sets like she was on fast-forward. Karen was humming to herself, chewing gum and somehow still doing squats perfectly.

And you? You were a heartbeat away from passing out.

But you kept going. Because if you slowed down—even for a second—you were afraid they'd see you for what you really were:

A try-hard. A fake. A guest at the table.

You’d only been hanging out with the Plastics for a few weeks. A charity event win, a confident one-liner in class, and suddenly Regina George had looked at you like you were interesting. That one look spiraled into a lunch invite. Then a mall trip. Then the gym.

And you had no idea what you were doing.

But you were sure of one thing: you had to keep up.

“You good?” Gretchen asked, breezing past. “You’re, like…sweating a lot.”

“Totally,” you lied, forcing a smile. “Just pushing myself.”

“Love that for you,” she chirped, already distracted by her phone.

You clenched your teeth and picked up the weights again, even though your arms felt like cooked noodles. You hadn’t eaten much today—just coffee and part of a granola bar. Regina had casually mentioned that carbs were “post-breakup energy,” and you hadn’t touched bread since.

You closed your eyes.

Just for a seconde.

And everything tilted.

The weight fell from your hands with a thud. Your knees buckled. The gym floor rushed up to meet you.

🩷🖤🩷

Blackness. Then hands touching you. Then voices.

When you woke up, the lights above were too bright, and the air tasted like metal and cheap perfume.

“Hey—hey! She’s waking up,” Karen said urgently. Your head was resting in her lap. Her voice was soft, almost childlike. “Don’t move too fast. Your aura looks messed up.”

You blinked, confused. Gretchen was crouched beside you, fanning you with the glossy paper from a water bottle label.

“You fainted,” she said. “Like, totally blacked out. It was actually really scary. You hit the mat hard.”

“I…” Your mouth was dry. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Regina snapped. Her voice cut through the noise like a razor. “You passed out in front of, like, fifteen people. You scared the crap out of us.”

She stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like she was about to rip into you.

And she did.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Regina hissed. “You don’t starve yourself and then pretend you’re some kind of CrossFit girl. You could’ve broken your face.”

“I didn’t…” you started, your voice weak.

“You didn’t what?” she demanded. “Didn’t think we’d notice? Didn’t think you mattered enough for it to be a problem?”

You looked away. “I just didn’t want to let you guys down.”

The silence that followed was sharp.

Karen stopped petting your hair. Gretchen’s mouth parted slightly, as if realizing something too late.

Regina crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her.

“You thought we’d drop you,” she said. Not a question. A diagnosis. “Because you couldn’t lift some weights?”

“I thought I had to earn it,” you whispered. “Earn being here.”

Regina blinked. Her whole face shifted—still fierce, but the edges cracked just enough to let something real slip through.

“You are so stupid,” she said, but her voice cracked on the word. “God.”

You braced for more anger. But instead, she let out a slow, shaky breath and sat back on her heels.

“You don’t have to earn us,” Regina said quietly. “We already picked you. Dumbass.”

Gretchen leaned in, placing a hand on your shoulder. “She’s right. We don’t hang out with just anyone.”

“Yeah,” Karen added with a sweet smile. “We like you. Even if you eat bagels and pass out sometimes.”

You laughed a little, even though your head was pounding.

Karen wrapped a hoodie around your shoulders like a cape. “You need juice. Like, right now. Apple or orange? Ooooh—what about cranberry?”

“I’ll grab snacks from the vending machine,” Gretchen said. “Salty, right? Salt helps.”

Regina stood again, arms still crossed, but her tone gentler.

“New rule,” she said. “No workouts unless you’ve eaten. I mean it. You try this again and I’ll feed you myself. And I don’t mean that in a cute way. I mean like...shove-a-sandwich-down-your-throat aggressive.”

You smiled at her. “Thanks, I think.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. Almost a smile.

“Come on,” she said, extending a hand. “Let’s get you off the floor. Passing Out Is So Not a Vibe”

You took her hand, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you felt like you weren’t trying to climb up to their level anymore.

You were already there.

💋 End

Like always pretty please comment and reblog! I'd love to get input back from the audience.

Taglist:

@gaydetectiveperson @reneesghostinthelivingroom

Peace and Love, Rigby🌱

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Ford didn’t build the Boss 429 engine just for fun they built it to win. Back in the late ‘60s, **NASCAR** had a rule that said race cars had to use engines that were available in street cars. That meant if Ford wanted to take on Chrysler’s dominant 426 HEMI in NASCAR, they had to create a big block that could breathe deep, rev high, and survive the brutal demands of 500 mile races…

The Boss 429 wasn’t just another big-block it was designed from the start to be a high-RPM powerhouse… Ford engineers gave it massive, free-flowing cylinder heads, a beefed up bottom end, and a dry deck design to handle extreme pressures without blowing head gaskets… It was built to run hard and hold together at sustained high speeds…

On the track, this engine found its way into Ford Torino Talladegas and Mercury Cyclones, where it became a serious threat… In the hands of NASCAR legends like Richard Petty, David Pearson, and Cale Yarborough, the Boss 429 powered Fords and Mercurys became serious contenders on superspeedways like Daytona and Talladega…

Pearson, driving for Holman Moody, took the 1969 **NASCAR** Championship in a Boss 429-powered Ford. Petty, who had been a longtime Mopar guy, even switched to Ford in 1969, largely because the Boss 429 was the only thing that could run with Chrysler’s HEMI at the time…

To make the **Boss 429** race legal, Ford had to stuff it into at least 500 production cars, and the Mustang was chosen as its home… But here’s the thing the street version wasn’t exactly the same beast that dominated **NASCAR**…

It was conservatively rated at 375 horsepower, but those massive cylinder heads were designed for high RPM power in stock form, it was a bit underwhelming on the street…

However, muscle car guys quickly figured out that with a better carb, a hotter cam, and a little tuning, the **Boss 429** could wake up in a hurry. With the right setup, it became an absolute monster, capable of leaving plenty of other muscle cars in the dust…

The Boss 429 engine was short-lived, but its impact was huge… It was Ford’s answer to the HEMI, a **NASCAR** warrior that made its way into the hands of lucky Mustang buyers, and one of the most unique big blocks ever put in a street car…

Today, it’s one of the most valuable and legendary **Ford** engines ever built a piece of muscle car history that still commands respect…if you're eager to learn something new, join this page

[ficfield]

Chris Redfield: Dad chronicles – Chaos, Crayons and a Cat named rocket. 

Request: More Chris and his baby!! It’s so adorable I cannttt I need moreeeeeee

Dad chris never fails to amuse me 😂 Enjoy my lovelies

Chris Redfield faced Tyrants, B.O.W.s, and nightmares most people couldn’t imagine. He’d walked into bioterror hot zones with nothing but a combat knife and grim determination. 

None of it had prepared him for parenthood.

Specifically, none of it had prepared him for this day.

“Rocket! No! Drop it!” Chris barked, lunging across the living room just in time to catch the family cat sauntering off with one of his son’s tiny sneakers in its mouth. Rocket, a stray that Claire had “accidentally” gifted them last year, hissed in annoyance but relinquished the shoe. 

Chris sighed, holding the slobbery thing up in mild disgust before glancing at the clock. 2:37pm. Only… several more hours to go.

“Dad!” his son shouted from the hallway. “I made a masterpiece! Come see!” 

Chris winced. Those words… they’d been said before. He trudged over, praying it wasn’t another “mural” on the wall. 

It wasn’t this time.

It was worse. 

“Oh no.” 

The boy, four years old, full of energy, and apparently blessed with his mother’s creativity and lack of caution, beamed up at him. “I made Rocket a superhero!” 

And there was Rocket, sitting in the laundry basket, covered in stickers, streamers, and sporting what Chris was pretty sure was one of his old tactical headsets duct taped around its tiny feline skull. 

Rocket meowed pitifully. Chris sighed again.

“You’ve gotta stop using my field gear for crafts, buddy,” he said, gently peeling the headset off the cat. “This stuff isn’t cheap.”

“But Rocket needs to call for backup,” his son argued seriously. “He’s fighting crime.” 

Chris groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, and I’m fighting a migraine.” 

4:03PM.

Snack time turned into a battleground. Chris set out apple slices and peanut butter, his son demanded pancakes. Pancakes, Chris explained, were a breakfast food. 

“I’m having a growth spurt,” his son declared, hands on his hips. “I need carbs.” 

Chris blinked. “Where did you even learn that?” 

“Aunt Jill.” 

Of course.

Chris made pancakes.

4:45PM.

Finger painting. Chris had been told finger painting was a good outlet for kids. No one had mentioned that finger paint somehow ended up everywhere. On the table. On the floor. On Chris’s face.

At one point, Rocket streaked past, trailing neon green paw prints around the house. 

“Your mom’s never gonna let me live this down,” Chris muttered under his breath. 

5:22PM.

They played hide and seek.

Chris found his son inside the dryer.

“Hiding in appliances is never okay,” Chris scolded. 

“But I fit!” his son protested.

Chris fought the urge to scream into his hands. “That’s not the point!” 

6:03PM

Dinner was another exercise in practice. He cooked, he begged, he bribed. His son ate three bites and then insisted he was full. 

Ten minutes later, he asked for ice cream.

Chris said no. 

His son wailed like a siren.

Chris seriously considered calling in backup. 

6:45PM.

By the time his partner, his wife, his best friend, the only other adult in the house, walked through the door, Chris was slumped on the couch, his t-shirt smeared with paint, peanut butter and cat hair. His son was shirtless, giggling, and wearing Chris’s BSAA cap backwards like he was in some kind of toddle street gang. 

“Hi,” Chris croaked, hauling himself up.

She raised her eyebrow. “Rough day?” 

Chris nodded wordlessly.

Their son ran to her, arms wide. “Mom! Mom! I made Rocket a superhero and dad said no carbs but aunty Jill said carbs are important and I got stuck in the tumble dryer but I was fine and-“

She smile, scooped him up, and kissed his cheek. “Wow, sounds like an adventure huh” 

Chris could’ve cried with relief. 

They got the kid bathed and into pajamas. Story time was mercifully brief (though he did have to read goodnight moon twice). And 8:15PM, their son was finally asleep. 

Chris melted into the couch like a man who’d just survived a two-day op in enemy territory.

“You okay there, soldier?” she teased, sitting beside him.

He groaned. “I don’t think my back will ever recover.” 

She chuckled softly, leaning into his side. “Well… good news.” 

Chris raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to give me a massage?” 

She smiled at him. Soft, warm, and just a little nervous.

“Not exactly.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny white stick with two pink lines.

Chris stared. Blinked. Stared again.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “We’re doing this again.”

Chris opened his mouth. Closed it =. Ran a hand through his hair and let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“Another one,” he muttered “God help me.” 

She laughed, taking his hand in hers. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Chris turned toward her, eyes soft. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You weren’t ready the first time,” she pointed out. “And look at you now.”

He glanced toward the baby monitor, where their son was snoring softly, one hand curled around his favourite stuffed wolf.

Chris smiled.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Okay. I can do this.”

“You can,” she agreed, kissing him gently. “But we should probably tell Leon after you’ve had time to process.”

Chris chuckled darkly. “He’s gonna buy matching leather jackets.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They sat there in the quiet, hand in hand, as Chris let it all wash over him.

Another baby.

Another tiny life to protect. To love. To fight for.

He exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna need more coffee.”

[steddieasitgoes]

Steve, Eddie, and Robin move into a house in Boston in the 90s. Their neighbors are a nice, older couple who Steve’s pretty sure used to be Olympic runners. Every morning they go for a jog around the city and it’s only a matter of weeks before Steve is joining them. As Thanksgiving approaches, the couple tells Steve about the annual turkey trot the city hosts.

Still new to town, Steve convinces Eddie and Robin that the turkey trot is a fun tradition that they have to attend. Taking the name literally, they agree because they want to see wild turkeys running through the streets of Boston

(“Let them run for their freedom!” Eddie chants.

"It's what they deserve," Robin agrees. ) 

Flash forward to an hour into the festivities, Eddie and Robin are sweating and panting, practically falling over each other. They’re glaring at Steve while trying to keep up with him, muttering that he’s a traitor and how they thought they would see turkeys not be the turkeys. 

At one point Robin shouts at Steve to “Save himself” while Eddie collapses to the floor in a dramatic fit shouting “Leave me here to die.” 

When Steve finishes the race, he has to double back to rescue the fallen "turkeys." As punishment for his scheme, they make him cook and clean the entire feast of dessert and carbs (no turkey in sight) they demand after participating in physical activity. 

The following year, Steve is the only one running while Eddie and Robin cheer him on from the sidelines in awful, homemade turkey outfits. 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi! I had a twst thought that I wanted to share and hear your thoughts on! So you know how in vil’s chapter he has the sdc crew in ramshackle and is talking about the changes in diet they would be enforcing for the duration of the training? What if prefect had southern momma vibes and goes ape shit. Like ‘I am the prefect here, you are in my dorm. You will respect my rules! I am willing to compromise on lots of things but you wanna take away good food from these boys?! Ain’t no way.’ Maybe prefect knows a lot about nutrition and adds in stuff like ‘everyone’s bodies are different and need different things, some people need more food than others or need more protein than others. Diet culture doesn’t work for everyone and it is frankly harmful to even suggest that as the way to go. It’s unhealthy and even more unhealthy to block carbs and sugars completely!’ And being absolutely appalled by the notion of not seasoning the food. Possibly making jambalaya or gumbo for the boys. It’s not a fully fleshed thought but I can’t stop thinking about it. Thank you for listening, I really enjoy your work and hope you have a good day/night!

Foodie Reader SDC | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

I love your thinking 

The idea that Vil’s own warped sense of dieting makes him forget that you can eat healthy and the food still be good

Not to mention the way he starts demanding things in the dorm you practically run

Not in this house!

“Alright boys you can eat that and still be hungry or you can have some of this gumbo and sleep happy.”

Of course you win by a large margin and they’re choosing your food

Thinking of always wanting to cook for your friends and finally when you get them all together Vil just has to ruin it with his bland food options

“Will you let me do my job as the coach of this team?”

“If you let me run my dorm the way I plan to then sure.”

He hates you so much before his overblot

Constantly agonizing how the team has smiles all-around the second you offer sweet ice-tea during a break

You remind him too much of someone else he hates…Neige

But he still can’t completely ignore the flicker of pride when you compliment his dancing or his voice

Or when you actually agree when he picks a healthy side

And of course who could hate the prefect that’s just happy you liked to eat

“Mon filou, you’re cooking is amazing! Did you have an suitors lined up back where your from?”

Of course make sure you have enough otherwise theres going to be a lot more infighting than the dance group needs

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Dreaming till the Dream Come True

 Rumi hesitated, her fingers hovering over the launch button on her phone. A part of her wanted to do it. Wanted to announce their single and finally turn the Honmoon golden. 

 However…

 “So tonight is becoming one with the couch,” Mira said. “Tomorrow is Izuku, right?”

 “Yeah!” Zoey cheered. “He got the ticket for UA! That's amazing!”

 “Hopefully, they actually let him do it,” Mira muttered. Rumi blinked before exiting the app she’d been on. 

 “They should,” the purple-haired woman said. “Japan, so far, is one of ten countries in the world that haven't had Quirkless heroes. It's about time they start.” 

 It was thanks to the Hunters that Korea didn't face the same issues as other Quirkless people. Something they were all very aware of. The incident where a greedy bigot tried to pull one over them wasn't unusual. 

 Japan had only begun implementing anti-discrimination laws for minority groups when Quirks began appearing more frequently. An attempt to protect people from losing jobs due to not having the right Quirk once they became accepted, along with some more underhanded ways to promote equality. 

 Many people forgot that being Quirkless was actually a minority that fell under the law, at least according to Izuku. He never told them how bad Aldera was, but they all knew it was bad. He just wouldn't say. 

 Angie promoted letting him come to them. She kept an eye on things, and Rumi hoped the woman would step in if things got bad enough. 

 She had experienced the discrimination that came with being Quirkless, but not like Izuku or the other girls had. It was still discrimination, but well…

 “Cover them,” a hand grabbed her sleeve to yank it down. “Don’t show anyone. They won’t understand.” 

 Her shame came from her marks rather than her Quirk status. She was rich, famous and had a long family history in music. You’d have to be stupid to do anything. 

 “Well, that's a worry for the future if we have to sic our lawyers on them,” Zoey said. “Couch time,” she groaned as she headed to the kitchen to grab her food. Mira a second behind. Rumi snickered, following them.

 Couch time sounded divine for a bit. 

 Then it was time to make the Honmoon golden. To make a world where they could spend time with Izuku, where they could relax more. 

Rumi couldn’t wait.

-

 “You good to open the portal, or do you need me to?” Angie asked through Bobby’s phone as he leaned back in relief, as the massage chair he sat in did its magic. 

 “I can. You need to focus on cooking up a storm.” Bobby said. 

 “Nice. You want anything special for your energy boost?” Angie asked, sounding like she was writing something. Probably her menu for the next day. She'd have made a lot of the desserts already; she just needed to do the mains. 

 “Give me the weirdest Canadian thing you can,” Bobby asked. Angie laughed. 

 “Will do. Have a good one, Bobby,” she hung up, leaving him to relax.

 His head hurt from the overuse of his Quirk the past few weeks, but a good night's rest plus some carbs would help with that. Bobby hummed as he closed his eyes.

 Teleportation Quirks to the extent he or Angie could use them, were rare. He didn't know the exact percentage (Izuku would he should let the kid ramble at him later, cheer him up from any crap Aldera pulled), but he knew that for most of his childhood, his parents had pushed him towards heroics. 

 His Quirk could be useful there. He would be in high demand, and if he didn't want heroics, then working in the travel industry was a good idea.

 Bobby had been twelve when he pretended his Quirk stopped working as well as it used to, framing his mother, who loved forcing him to teleport her around the world, as the reason. 

 It caused a stir. Big enough he'd been removed from his parents' custody and placed into a new home where he'd been allowed to pursue his actual dream of being a K-Pop Idol. 

 Bobby smirked a bit, eyes still closed. Those years had been some of the best and worst of his life. He'd travelled the world without his Quirk, used it on stage in flashy shows, and had refused at times so they could keep it old-school. 

 He was also constantly screamed at. Told to work harder, to stop drinking certain things, to take a pill rather than eat. Bobby had listened, dreaming of being on top of the charts.

 He'd ended up retiring when the abuse from his manager got so bad that he'd fainted on stage, completely starved. 

 It had been a wake-up for Bobby. One, he didn't let it pass by him as he changed careers to go into management. He wanted to make changes. To ensure that anyone he managed wouldn't end up like he did. 

 That was how he met his girls. Celine had hired him right when she heard of his experience as an idol himself, along with his stance. It helped that the Starlight Sisters were already a wild card in the industry, and they had always been open; they had a dietitian who didn't restrict their diets. 

 Managing the girls was a dream come true for Bobby. He got to work with insanely talented singers, while also knowing they were treated well. His own stories of his treatment, told to the girls when he’d nearly started a fight with another manager, led them to help promote a healthy lifestyle in the industry. They recorded their carb loading and training, which never pushed them to the point of collapse because of someone screaming at them. 

 Bobby didn’t know how they did it either, but they’d shut down his old record label. He knew it was them, too; the smug looks on their faces proved it all.

 Bobby loved his girls. He loved them dearly, and it was why he broke his own promise not to use his Quirk to teleport anyone around the world. He had been there when Rumi broke down sobbing in a realization she’d deserved better. Bobby had watched her break and rebuild herself. Bobby had watched as Rumi did everything she could to make Izuku happy. To give him a life she never had. So using his Quirk to enable them to see each other often was the least he could do.

 Even if it gave him headaches to overuse it after so long of not stretching it to its full potential, Bobby didn’t mind. Angie was there to take some of the weight from him with her own teleportation Quirk. 

 Bobby hummed, wondering how to help Rumi get the information about breaking away from Sunlight Records without tipping Celine off. It'd be tricky, but he was already in contact with some other disgruntled employees who had seen how Celine belittled Rumi. Starting their own label would help. 

 He wouldn’t let those girls down. Never. 

 So, he’d take a good rest day, then head over to their tower for the party. Following that, he’d help Rumi with the launch. He wasn’t sure why the girls were waiting until after Golden released, but he’d back them. 

-

Zoey bounced on her feet, giggling as she looked around their living room. Celebrating the end of the tour and Izuku’s entry ticket? This was the best idea ever! They’d gone and decorated the room with balloons and streamers! Angie called ahead to give them the menu plan, though she threatened them to stay out of the kitchen.

 Rude, she taught them to cook. Did she think she did a bad job? Though given it was Izuku and Rumi who did the best…

 “Oh, we should talk about his hero costume design!” Zoery said, the thought popping into her head out of nowhere. “He has to put in for that, right?”

 “Yeah, like the few months before he starts,” Mira said, raising an eyebrow at Zoey. She shrugged.

 “I’m used to the American way,” Zoey pointed out. In her experience, everyone could train at a hero school like Japan did, but you couldn’t actually be licensed or work as a hero until you were at least eighteen. Even then, you had to complete a year of basic training in addition to your schooling. 

 In Canada, hero courses were typically offered by a college or university as a school-based study, accompanied by a physical test every year to ensure participants could meet the physical requirements for heroics. After graduating to being a full hero, you were expected to take tests every other year and undergo an audit every three years. Zoey knew that from an old Canadian friend.

 “Is the Korean system like Japan?” Zoey asked, tilting her head to the side before she looked up at Mira, who pursed her lips. 

 “Yeah, though uh… we don’t provisionary license anyone until they’re eighteen,” Mira said, tone clipped.

 Right! Oh, right. Ah, yeah, Zoey forgot Mira’s family was like THE hero family here. RIght. 

Crap. Right. Ah…

 “He should maybe style his costume after one of our old ones. Or oooog, the Golden ones!” Zoey said, trying to change the subject. 

 “Black and white would suit him. With some gold…” Mira said, leaping onto the change of topic. Zoey let out a sigh.

  That was close. Mira ever really liked talking about her family. Then again, none of them really did.

 Zoey remembered far too well the loud arguments her parents had over her Quirkless status. It even caused their divorce, and part of the reason Zoey went with her mother back to Korea was that her father’s opinions were stifling. 

 America, where Zoey lived, was accepting of the Quirkless, but well… not all the time. And sometimes, people could surprise you with their inner biases. Her father had shown that, and her mother wouldn’t let Zoey face that. So she left with Zoey. 

 Zoey’s mom resented her for it. It was apparent, and Zoey didn’t really… talk to her mother much anymore. Or her dad really, after he’d tried to take custody of her as a disabled adult. Never mind she wasn’t disabled. 

 …They all knew Celine was an awful parent. And Izuku’s parents… torn apart by demons like that…

 Awful. 

 That was why Huntrix had to stick together. They didn’t really have a family outside of each other. Bobby and Angie fit in that way.

.. That sounded awful. Why did she think that?

 Bobby opened the portal before Zoey fell into a spiral of what on earth she was thinking, eyes wide in disgust at herself. Izuku stepped into the living room with Angie. 

 “Izuku!” Zoey and Mira squealed, Rumi rushing in just as they said so, saying she was there. 

 “Mira! Zoey! Rumi!” Izuku threw his arms open, running to them. They all tackled each other in a hug. Zoey grinned, holding her little brother tightly. 

 She loved her family so much. 

 “Oh, Izuku, we are so excited!” Zoey cheered. 

 “I’m excited for you guys to!” Izuku said. Yes! The tour and the upcoming song and the Honmoon!

 Oooh! There were so many things to be excited about! She was so excited!

-

Mira had been fifteen when Min-Jun became a hero. Samjok-o, the latest of the Lee family heroes. Min-Jun’s ability to mould light itself, make it hard enough for him to stand on, let him use the name. 

 She’d been twelve when he went to school. The celebration had been at an upscale restaurant. They had sat formally, dressed in their best. There had been polite conversation and congratulations. She was scolded for being bored. 

 There had been no hugging. No laughter. No joy. 

Mira buried her face into Izuku’s hair. God, she got to do this with him. She didn’t lose out on the celebration of another brother. She got to dance around the living room with him. She got to eat fantastic food made by Angie, who made the best ramyeon ever. 

 “So I’ve been trying to think of how I’m gonna use music,” Izuku said. “I mean, hunter abilities we can explain as parkour and everything. But I’d like to use music too.”

 “I mean, you could fake a Quirk,” Zoey mentioned. She froze when she said it as the others winced. “That did not sound right. Umm… You shouldn’t fake a Quirk! No, I didn’t mean it!” 

 “Zoey,” Mira said, reaching out to touch her friend’s arm—anything to know the girl out of her spiral. 

 Faking a Quirk was something many people did. A better treatment for the Quirkless or not, Korea did have people who were very conservative towards them. Many insisted on faking a Quirk for their children to prevent anyone from thinking their bloodline was weak. 

 Mira remembered having to pretend her eyes could shoot beams of light. Having to wear blindfolds all the time, stumbling around. The doctors thought part of the reason her eyes were kind of bad was due to never being allowed to remove the blindfold unless she was alone in her room. 

 “Sorry,” Zoey said.

 “...I won’t fake a Quirk,” Izuku said. “I refuse to.” He looked up. “I will be the first Japanese Quirkless hero.” Izuku lifted his chin. Mira grinned, lifting a hand. Izuku grinned, meeting her high-five happily. 

 “Hell yeah,” Mira said. “You’ll kick ass and take names Izuku.”

 “I will,” Izuku promised. He ate some of the ramyeon in front of him, hiding his smile. 

 There it was. The hint of fangs.

 Mira glanced over to see Angie purse her lips. 

 Non-Quirk Mutation. Technically, hair colour was this, but Quirks made things so different that no one considered it anymore. 

 It had been a bit before they realized Izuku and Rumi both had much more obvious ones. Sometimes, if a non-Quirk Mutation were something like cat ears and tail, they’d be declared a Quirk. The other times, they ended with just a note in a file. 

 Realizing Rumi and Izuku were some of those who had it was due to Angie overhearing Celine tell Izuku to keep it quiet. 

 It was heartbreaking to know their mentor was like that. Thinking it shameful to have mutations as a Quirkless people. 

 It really made them actually confront how bad Celine was. 

 They had to turn the Honmoon gold. They had to be able to free Rumi and Izuku from her grasp. 

 As they laughed, discussing the future of Izuku’s lyrics, she promised herself that. 

-

 Izuku laughed as his sisters began arguing over whether to get tickets now for the sports festival in two years or wait until later. 

 “It’s too early!” protested Rumi. 

 “It’s the UA Sports Festival! I think most of Asia is scrambling for tickets now!” Mira argued back. 

 Izuku’s arms ached. His minor breakdown the day before made him exhausted. 

 However, spending time with his family made it worthwhile.

 Bobby ended up bowing out after a few hours, needing to handle some sort of PR mess about the girls being late for their concert. Good thing a hero had seen the destroyed airplane and stopped it from destroying the entire city. A small claim of saving them and getting them to the concert on time from a hero in the know (because Huntrix would insist on it) launched an investigation into who hired villains to try to hurt Huntrix.

 A sadly not uncommon occurrence. It had happened many times in the past. Rival groups, fans of rival groups, even sometimes their own fans, attempting a weird meet-cute. Izuku had heard all the stories. 

 Angie soon wandered off, announcing she was taking advantage of the spa bath. They waved her off before Izuku turned to the girls.

 “So, what actually happened?” he asked.

 “Demons attacked the plane,” Mira said, nodding.

 “They were trying to make us late!” Zoey dramatically said, leaning towards Izuku with one hand on the table before she pushed herself back while lifting her fists to her chin in a fake boxer's pose. “We got them good!”

 “They destroyed the plane, and we had to jump off. Really pulled on the Honmoon’s power to be safe,” Rumi explained.

 “Cool!” Izuku breathed. “Also terrifying. Wait, is…”

 “I reached out. Captain Park is fine,” Rumi assured him, naming their usual pilot. “The usual flight agency that handles our private jet hired new steward staff. He got jumped.”

 “This sounds like an actual villain attack,” Izuku mused

 “Wouldn’t be the first time a rival group accidentally hired demons to kill us,” Mira waved it off. 

 “That’s so cool,” Izuku said. “Man, I can’t wait to be a hero!”

 “Gonna hunt on the side to?” Rumi asked.

 “Yeah. I’ve been talking with some Japanese Hunters. I’m too young to train,” Izuku explained, thinking of said hunters. Most were solitary people. They didn’t have the same connection Huntrix had to the Honmoon, so they had Quirks. It was.. It's awkward to be around them at times due to that. 

 “When you’re older, then. Isn’t Snipe at UA?” Rumi tried to remember the hero who worked as a hunter. “Maybe he can help?”

 “I think Watanabe will put me in touch,” Izuku thought of his contact. The man was tight-lipped, but interested in helping Izuku get into heroics. “So… the Honmoon will be gold soon.” Izuku looked at the three girls, who beamed at each other, holding hands. 

 They were going to do it. They were going to make the Honmoon gold. They would take a brief hiatus. They could live their lives.

 Izuku felt tears in his eyes as he smiled so wide at the others. 

 He couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

-

 Angie had a relaxing bath before going to her room. 

 Her room, in Huntrix tower. 

 The spirits bless. 

 Angie flopped onto her soft bed, stretching her hands above her head. She loved her job.

 She earned an impressive amount of money, was encouraged to pursue other interests, and was treated like family. 

 She hadn't had a family in a long time. Angie had been eighteen when she left her family, and she’d never looked back. Not really. She loved her family. But…

 You can love them, but need to stay away. 

 Angie had seen how badly fame could take a toll on someone's life. A party life was not uncommon for heroes, and it could consume them. Angie had watched how the party life took her mother, driving her away from the spotlight. Angie grew up in a world where she was treated like nothing but an option to claw her way back to the spotlight.

 She was just happy that her mother never knew Angie’s Quirk had an evolution. Never knew how strong it became.

 Her father didn’t either, and he’d been as bad as her mother, in different ways. He never liked the fact that he’d been with a white woman. Never really hid his anger that he’d had a child by accident. He married Angie’s mother, but he’d made it clear Angie wasn’t what he wanted. 

 Especially when her Quirk was so weak. 

 Angie walked away from her mother, father and family without looking back. 

 Now, she had Izuku, the boy she had seen grow from a scared child to a confident one. She watched as Rumi transformed from a terrified teenager to a confident young woman. She’d seen Zoey blossom, Mira grow more open. 

 And soon, they’d be free from Celine. They would be able to live for themselves, not for whatever Celine wanted them to. 

 Angie smiled. In the morning, she’d take Izuku home after breakfast. Her weird Canadian dish (Nanaimo bars) had inspired her to create a custard-style breakfast dish. 

 Things would blossom in the morning.

-

 When Izuku left, Rumi stood on the balcony outside their living room. She’d stared at the shimmering on the ground, the Honmoon shining bright. 

 “So… we launching it?” Mira asked, coming up behind her.

 “Wait,” Rumi turned to frown. “I thought you were cheering for the couch?” Rumi tilted her head forward while raising an eyebrow. 

 “Yeah, well… it’s time to end this,” Mira said.

 “It is,” Zoey announced as she also arrived at the balcony. “Don’t get me wrong. I really wish we could just exist on the couch for the next two weeks watching my turtle videos.”

 “But this… this is for us. For Izuku.” Mira nodded.

 Rumi smiled at her friends before she pulled out her phone. Going to the launch app, she looked up to smile.

 Both girls nodded, and Rumi pressed launch.