#good for me my dad is such a cool dude

[witchydykebitch]

I've spent so much time worrying about becoming my mother I didn't stop to realise

I'm basically just a weird, short lesbian version of my dad

[moth-flowers]

moth-flowers #17

[beaversatemygrandma]

Interview. Interview. Oh Another interview. Interview. Interview. Guess what's next? An interview that a manager is like "Today at 2pm sound good?" which I took bc yeah, it was good...

I'm tired.

Now will ANY OF THEM ACTUALLY Call Me Back???

[constellation-sapphic]

Someday. When I have the big big robotics engineer salary. I am going to give Joe Hills so much money. That’s my financial goal for the next ten years.

[marsbotz]

havent rewatched dm3 for a while so my opinion mighttttt change but i still think dru was a bigggg wasted opportunity. u cld have done something soooo cool and he was a huge nothing burger

[new-haven-psych-ward]

Kamen Rider Geats episode 43 poorly summarized via memes with as little context as possible:

[ilaiyayaya]

I think professional game players and like, other similar performative, skill based "jobs" are a really good example of why I think the idea of AI taking over every job is kinda ridiculous, like yea it definitely is going to ruin a lot of jobs and that's still obviously bad, but I think the idea of it completely phasing out humans in every regard is really dumb and disregards the entire point of a lot of things. Art is the biggest category of "job" I'm mostly referring to, but definitely not the only one, like, a huge part of the appeal of art isn't just the thing itself that you see/hear/etc. but also the idea that that thing had effort and passion put into it, a lot of arguments against AI I see say that AI could never replicate certain artstyles and visual features of art, like for examples hands being bad, but like, yea it can't now but it almost definitely will be able to physically replicate every aspect of art we see, but that completely ignores an entire other, arguably (I would make the argument, I am making the argument) far more important aspect, the feeling of something, not even just art, just anything, the way it makes you feel, the creator feel, the vibe, the idea behind it. I bring up video game players as a perfect example of this because I saw a tweet earlier today that said something along the lines of "'AI is coming for our jobs' I'd like to see an AI perform the same combo 50 times consecutively in one take" and like, yea even right now an AI could very easily do that, far easier than a human could, but like, do people watch AI do combos like they do for human players? do they get invested in communities centered around large tournaments of AI competitiors? no (I mean, I guess SaltyBet exists, but like, that's kind of an entirely different thing) because while yes they are physically doing the exact same thing, watching human competitors do it has a whole different vibe behind it, those are people, like me, and they have funny wacky thought processes behind the things they do, like me, and also they yell slurs when they lose to a hard counter-pick, like Hbox! Even like, non-art/competitive stuff I think this still applies to, like I always hear people complain about how fast food places like mcdonalds suck to eat at now because they know that they're just ordering at like, a screen or whatever and like, robot food (idk i havent eaten at a mcdonalds in years, woefully underinformed comparison), and like yea, companies don't care about that so those jobs probably will still get mostly phased out eventually on a large scale, but I don't think they'll be completely phased out, and if they do get replaced it may even end up being a short term issue anyways if John McDonkeys loses enough money from doing it.

Also like, the end goal for a lot of AI people is literally just making humans again, like just making AI that's the same as a real human and like, ok so like we have humans again now, what's the point??? You wasted decades, potentially centuries of research and money on something we already have? go out and touch skin bitch god i hate elon musk sorry the demons took hold again

Basically moral of they story is AI is dumb and stupid and lame and dumb and bad, but also I have faith in humanity, even in the average random FUCKING IDIOT YOU YES YOU MINDLESS CONSUMER I SAW YOU PURCHASE THAT NINTENDO GAME YOU FOOL (haha me :)) to no longer care about or support AI stuff significantly enough in the long-term once the novelty wears off for it to actually be nearly as much of an issue as doomer internet people want it to be.

[galacticanibalism]

trying to advertise one of the cd's my dad made after he left the family, where most of the lyrics are about how great his life was now he had left, is a lot harder than i thought it was be!

[melissa-titanium]

holy. fucking shit. everyone fuckinf read this please

The russian worker drones family; murder drone's greatest small scale tragedy.

As long as I can recall there has never been in my mind a story quite as painful and heartbreaking and yet quite as engaging as the tragedy of Doll, Yeva, and her husband, who's lack of a clear name doesn't detract from the impact of this story or the death of the other two.

The last time such an emotional impact was left in my brain was with Noximilliem Coxen the Watchmaker from Wakfu, who I will assuredly make a comparison post with Doll, as they both hit extremely similar themes and ideas while still having such different execution and story beats that it almost makes you question why would you even compare them in the first place.

Tragedy is deceptively hard to write right and make meaningful, as just crippling your characters won't do, because at that point it just becomes drama porn and as boring as a low effort pre-schoolers program. Seemingly unfeasible in a show such as Murder Drones; an horror/comedy/romance where an abused child repaired and made friends with a robot only for said robot to cause the destruction of her planet and... something else.

Buckle up cause these robots emotions might not even be considered real inside the fictional setting but our pain allows what would otherwise be a pretty standard horror scenario to transcend into the bane of my existence as we take a look at the small, inconsequential tale of the russian worker drones family.

Yeva

Starting off with Yeva as the oldest member of our family in terms of chronological relevance, we get our first peek into the way this story plays out due to Yeva being seemingly mute by choice or programming, which retroactively sets up the storytelling method used; Yeva doesn't speak a single word in this scene or the one that precedes it, but we still get a clear rendition of her character by her standoffish behaviour juxtaposed with her caring and nurturing nature, it's debatable whether or not her and Nori are sisters, but you wouldn't be blamed for thinking that judging by the way Yeva tends to Nori after the banishment of the solver, being chained up and experimented upon didn't stop her from staying positive in the midst of adversity and could theoretically be the reason why she was the only correctly patched drone in the facility.

During the V attack she sacrificed her own life in order to protect Doll. An act that, in the long run, ended up being whortless, but that cemented Yeva has an unyielding positive influence in a world stormed by negativity and death.

The father

We know jack s##t about this man but that won't stop us from analysing him. The most interesting things about him are his relationship with Yeva and the fact that the picture of V seen in episode 2 was made by him. He's, admittedly, a white canvas for head cannons, but thematically he keeps a recurring motif that this post will touch upon in his final entry:

Doll

And now, for the crown jewel of this family. The protagonist's dark reflection. Not many people can claim to have been messed up as hard as Doll was. Sure, death is still death, but with it comes a certain sense of finality and rest. Instead, by contrast Doll's death is so brutal and devastating because although it's something that she has been calling upon herself since she started to consume other drones for her goals, it's just so heartbreaking because she managed to achieve absolutely nothing despite being one step forward everyone else in the story; she never got better, never reademned herself, made their parents sacrifice worthless, died almost entirely off camera completely alone and scared, and as her last compensation act she managed to give Uzi a barely useful warning before having her probably still alive consciousness eaten by an eldritch atrocity. At the end of the day, she was deemed worthless by the main antagonist and quickly brushed aside.

And we go back to a certain reoccurring theme regarding this family: Yeva never speaks. Her husband is never given a name. Doll is literally a toy name. Their story plays out in the shadow of the main plot. Every single aspect regarding them paints their existence as worthless and inconsequential (classic eldtritch horror), yet are given enough spotlight to leave an impact on us, to have their presence felt, and to give us the impression that, despite their bad luck, if they only took certain decisions in certain key moments, maybe they would have survived and received a much better ending than the one they got.

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[fereldancore]

I don’t blog about sports, but early this morning my favourite athlete Johnny ‘Hockey’ Gaudreau was knocked off his bicycle and killed along with his younger brother the night before their sister’s wedding. He had just turned 31 years old, married his next door neighbour and had a toddler daughter and a 6 month old son (who were planned to be flower girl and ring bearer at the wedding).

I adored Johnny because he was a such a small streak of lightning in a game full of huge dudes who were regularly a whole foot taller than him. His skills were just fucking phenomenal and he was so exciting to watch. I screamed with joy and cheered him on so loudly I lost my voice on many occasions. He represented his country for International Competitions and is the highest US point scorer.

I could get technical and talk about my favourite goals of his, his stickhandling, dangles, on ice spatial awareness etc but it is all on film for anyone to see, just too much to choose from. Nobody moved like Johnny Hockey.

As a person he was a sweet, kind guy who was universally liked in the sport and beyond. I do not follow celebrities on social media, but on hockey forums there are endless stories of his voracious love of mac and cheese (so much so Kraft put him in a TV ad) and skittles candies that he had a hockey stick covered in them and auctioned for charity.

In interviews he always talked hockey and his family. Whenever asked about new contracts and paycheques he would just shrug and say ‘yeah I bought my dad a boat so we can go fishing’ or ‘I just got a cool new wheelchair lift installed in my holiday home so my cousin can come and spend time with me’, or change the subject and talk about his dog, his wife and kids or The Birds. He was a real gem of a gentleman, modest and always ready to give credit to his team and dad (legendary NJ coach Guy Gaudreau) who motivated Johnny to skate as a toddler by placing skittles candies on the ice for him to fetch.

I’m am so sad for him, his family. This is just a blurb of feels about someone I counted down the days for until I could see them make magic on ice. I wish I could write a good tribute, dammit. Thank you Johnny Hockey.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Nanny Wilson

Little Danny is almost lost in the mall when his parents suddenly run too fast in an attempt to catch up a ghost that their equipment has detected. Young Fenton is not a crybaby at all, but being alone without daddy and mommy is a little scary, so he begins to whimper and run around, trying to find familiar features in the blurry figures around him. Finally, he bumps into the thigh with a gun. It doesn't look much like an ectoblast, but dad is always inventing something new, so Danny quickly hugs this leg as hard as he can and begs loudly.

Danny: Daddy! Don't leave me! Slade: What the hell… Boy, I'm not your dad.

Danny blinks a few times and realizes that this man really doesn't look like Jack.

Danny: Oh. I'm sowwy. Can you help me find my daddy?

Slade: What makes you think I'm going to do this?

Danny: You have a gun and dad has a gun, so you're good. Are you here to hunt too? Slade: Something like that...What's your father's name, kid?

Jack: Danny! There you are!

A huge figure in a hazmat suit rushes towards them and Danny notices that his new friend is hastily hiding the weapon. To cheer up the man who is obviously meeting Jack Fenton for the first time, Danny smiles broadly. Dad may look scary, but he doesn't steal other people's toys.

Jack: Oh, thanks for looking after him. Our goal turned out to be too fast and we didn't even notice when our boy started to fall behind. Slade: No problem, colleague. Maddie: ? Danny: Kind uncle is also a hunter. Maddie: Oh, that's great! Em, sorry, but is there any chance that you have a time to look after our boy for a few days? We'll pay you well. You see, he rarely trusts people so quickly, and we absolutely do not have time to look for a replacement for our old nanny, and we really need to complete the last project as soon as possible.

Looking at the giggling boy trying to see if there are any other interesting things on him, Wilson decides that this will not be a bad experience in case he decides to establish a relationship with his found daughter.

Slade: All right, I'll take your order.

~~~About ten years later~~~

Danny, who is much more familiar with death than in canon, after being freshly ghosted: Damn, nanny will be so mad at me.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey, Slade. Do you want me to show you something cool? Slade: Not now, kid, nanny is cleaning up. Danny: Yeah, about that. *makes a corpse go through the ground* Ta-da! Can we talk now? Slade at the first second: *Surprised Pikachu face*. Slade when he notices a strange glow around Danny, like from ectoplasm in the lab of the boy's parents: >:( … >:( … >:( Danny: S-stop it!

~~~~~ Slade: And take out the bloodstains from those shirts too, they're my favorites. Danny: Oh dude, have you heard that child labor is illegal? Slade: Whoever doesn't help uncle Slade doesn't get a new knife for Christmas. Danny: Pfff…Now I'm my own weapon, come up with something new or I'll find myself a cooler mentor. Slade: Jackanapes!

~~~~~

When Wilson stumbles upon a distraught runaway Robin, he sincerely tries to take care of him as well as he took care of Danny. Deathstroke is an experienced babysitter, so there shouldn't be any problems with vigilante child being around on his missions. All children love knives, workouts and guns, right? Plus, staying alone when they are upset, as Jazz says, is unhealthy.

~~~~A few days later~~~~

Dick's thoughts: He wants to make me his evil sidekick, oh no! Wilson's thoughts: What's wrong with this kid? Batman so fucked up? Wayne needs to be stripped of his parental rights. I'm calling Jazz.

~~~~~

Wilson, who does not understand that he has been hanging out with Fentons too long, looks with perplexity at Grayson, who's running away from flying pieces of Maddie's pizza, then shoots some pepperoni and sits down at the table. It's going to be a long way. Poor boy.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fenton family is visiting Masters for the first time. Vlad tries to flirt with Maddie and then pretends to be good-natured while getting to know Danny.

Danny: I know 54 ways to kill you with this fork. If I were you I think I'd watch my mouth. Jack: He's joking, V-man. Danny: I'm not. Jack: He's just like his babysitter. They have such an unusual sense of humor. I think our boy really likes you! Usually Danny is too shy to talk like this with strangers. Vlad: Babysitter? Maddie: Yes, Mr. Wilson helped us out a lot and often did not even take payment. He's an angel. Vlad: I think I've heard that name somewhere before... Jack: Ugh, I want to introduce you anyway! Danny: Me too. Jack: Great. What about Wednesday? Danny: Dad, uncle might be busy. Let me ask him when he has time to, um, pay your old friend a visit.

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[eats-the-stars]

love my coworkers but i’m convinced that 1-3 of them could possibly be part fish, maybe even some kind of freshwater mer-guy(s) because how else can three guys spend an entire 8-hour shift talking about fishing conditions. they were talking about the rain, the mud at the bottom of the lake, fish anatomy that was completely foreign to me, their latest fishing blunders/successes, one involving failure to catch a snapper, something about hiding treats IN the lake, no idea if they meant for fish feeding or their own consumption or how the hell that works, and then some complaints about other fishermen/fishmen in their favorite fishing places/potential living spaces.

[incognit0slut]

dude hi love tje work it’s great you’re great so if it’s not too much to ask and you can totally ignore this but can we please have thigh riding with post prison read like the seasons where he gained a little weight i mean goddamn he fills his cardigans, pants, kevlar vest so well. i actually need to feel his dad bod (that term kinda irks me but yes) angwags love u love the work keep it up -!

Spencer asks you to ride his thigh while he finishes work.

Warnings: (18+) Soft Dom Spence, Sub Fem Reader, thigh riding A/n: Apparently being sick does not stop me from being horny for this man (although it stopped me from thinking of a plot, this is just 900 words worth of smut)

You weren’t sure how you ended up in this predicament. You had simply gone to check on your boyfriend who had promised to follow you to bed an hour ago, only to find him exactly how you had left him—still in his work clothes with papers scattered across his desk. 

Spencer rarely brought work home, but when he did, he often became so engrossed that he lost track of time. So you were forced to peel yourself out of bed with the plan of persuading him to join you, although you did not expect to find yourself being the one persuaded.

Because now you were sitting along his thigh, naked and embarrassingly wet, while he continued to work.

Maybe it was because you were so desperate to be close to him that you accepted whatever he could offer. He saw it as a compromise: you could use his thigh while he finished his work, and afterward, he'd give you his full attention.

At first, you hesitated, not just because you were unsure, but because you were surprised he could come up with such an idea.

“Why don’t you ride my thigh for now?” he had suggested simply, in that soft, cool tone of his, as if he were offering something mundane like a kiss on the cheek or a hug—something soft, cute, and sweet, not riding his thigh. You didn't even know he was aware of such a concept.

But your clit pulsed with need, a lump formed in your throat, and your mouth went dry. You had swallowed and licked your lips, not quite used to this sudden authoritative attitude he had adopted. However, you were not complaining, especially with how it made you ache with desire.

So, you stripped off your clothes and climbed on top of him. 

The rough fabric of his trousers created delicious friction against your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he placed a steadying hand on your hip. You had been sitting there, not knowing what to do, until you couldn’t hold on any longer.

You began to move, slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm that would bring you relief. Every drag of your clit against his thigh sent waves of pleasure through you, and soon you were panting softly, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. Spencer’s attention remained on his work, but the slight tightening of his grip on your hip and the occasional flicker of his gaze told you he was very aware of what you were doing.

Your breaths grew heavier, mingling with the rustle of papers and the soft hum of the night. The need within you built steadily, each stroke of his thigh against your sensitive flesh bringing you closer to the edge. You leaned forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder, as his voice cut through the haze of your arousal. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone still maddeningly calm. “Just like that.”

Your nails dug into his arms as your desperation to be close to him, to feel him, drove you on, even as he remained focused on his work.

“Spence,” you whined, almost pathetically, your hips continuing to find that delicious friction. “Please…”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, rubbing soothing circles on your skin as you struggled. “I’m almost done.”

A strangled cry left your lips as the intensity of your movements increased. Your legs instinctively spread wider as you sought more, and your clit pressed harder against the rough fabric of his pants. The sensation was electrifying, and you could feel your slickness spreading, but Spencer didn't seem to mind. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you with a steady rhythm.

Your fingers gripped his shirt as you buried yourself in his neck, inhaling his scent—intoxicating and arousing. You pressed your naked flesh against his clothed body, pushing against him as if you wanted to be closer, to sink yourself into him completely.

Spencer’s calm demeanor only made your desperation grow. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Just let go.”

The friction, the heat, and his words all combined into an irresistible force. You felt yourself spiraling, your body trembling as you rode his thigh with abandon. The sensation of his muscles tensing beneath you, his hand guiding your movements, was too much. Your moans grew louder, mixing with the rustle of papers and the steady hum of his voice.

You whimpered, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. “Please,” you begged, your voice a breathless plea.

He responded by pressing his thigh against you more firmly, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. The combination of his commanding presence and the friction against your sensitive cunt was overwhelming.

The intensity grew, every touch, every stroke pushing you closer to the edge. You gripped him tighter, losing yourself in the sensation, your mind consumed by the intoxicating blend of his scent, his touch, and the raw need pulsing through your veins.

Your body tensed, and with a gasp, you finally let go. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you shuddering and breathless. Spencer held you tightly, his hand stroking your back as you came down from your high, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

When you finally came down, panting and spent, he looked at you with a mixture of pride and affection. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I think you earned my full attention now.”

You melted into him, barely able to support your own weight. He lifted you gently, guiding you to the bed, and as he laid you down and began to undress, you realized that the night was far from over.

[trainingdummyrabbit]

yes i love susa demonslayer. no i havent watched the whole of her episodes. we exist <333