#how tf am I supposed to tag this

[soupdeewoop]

what if i said i fw rosestarkillerchaser

what then

[apocalypse-shuffle]

light work w/ JASON•T & DICK•G

this is part of the “long overdue” series

Jason follows a ways behind Nightwing in silence right after they’ve flung themselves over the first building.

Pretense of playful riffing over and done with there’s just…nothing.

Nothing to talk about - or too much to pack into their relatively short journey from The Hill to the cave - and nothing to do but focus.

He swallows down the stiffness in his throat when the thought that a different less tainted less damaged him and Nightwing would’ve made a game out of this. Joked with each other. Laughed.

The reflection he catches of himself in the window of a yellow cape catching the air makes him cut that whole string of thinking.

Jason lands on paved stone in silence and watches Dick get another swing in before activating his coms. The separate unit could only be used sparingly (too easy to attach onto the frequency) but Jason wouldn’t need it to work that long.

He rolls his left ankle, testing the stiffness while waiting for his contact to pick up. It’s mild at best. He’s sure he wouldn’t have even noticed it until he was in his apartment if he hadn’t dropped so specifically as to not catch Nightwing’s attention.

Jason’s just gotten on the line with one of “his people”, a runner who he only bothered to remember the name of because they’d stay useful, when Nightwing finally catches on that it’s only one grapple he’s hearing.

The man retracts his grapple and does a series of flips to land on a roof four buildings away. Jason absentmindedly rolls his eyes while instructing Mensa on what cache to slip into. He’ll have to burn that safe house but he needed out of the area anyway. The clock tower was gone but that didn’t negate the fact that people now thought of The Hill as implicitly bat territory.

He’s instructing where he wants Mensa to leave his equipment when Nightwing finally decides to come over to him despite the way Jason cuts a hand through the air to wave him off.

“Bats, I swear,” he grunts. He tests his ankle one more time to get rid of the crink and watches Nightwing run over.

“What?”

He has enough time to turn his head and prattle off: “Nothing. Just do what I said.”

The vigilante lands in front of him nearer the edge of the roof from Jason’s position in the middle as the call disconnects.

“But you didn’t say anything?”

The other’s voice lilts upward at the end and Jason schools his face, letting himself scoff. He runs his hand through his bangs to swipe the com unit out as he does so.

“Course I didn’t, I couldn’t choose just one.”

Nightwing lets his head tilt, still lost but not nearly as much as he’s letting on. Jason answers his unspoken question anyway.

“They’re not enough words in the English lexicon to describe how annoying you are, Grayson. I got distracted.”

He doesn’t wait for whatever playact his reaction will be, throwing himself off the building and shooting his line in a slightly altered direction.

Of course Nightwing follows him but it’s not like Jason can’t work around his tag along.

He doesn’t start talking to him again but the man’s gaze setting his back on fire feels even more analytical than his words would have.

Jason grumbles to himself about it but is otherwise perfectly content to let the problem be one of the future. Preferably not his future, but when has Jason ever gotten what he wants?

Jason would never let the other know, but the face he makes when Jason drops down to the street a few blocks later and there’s conveniently a helmet sitting all snug for him on a bus bench is kind of worth the harassment.

He has to tamp down with his jaw until he slips the apparatus on so he won’t laugh right in his face. The helmet’s speaker systems keep his mirth strictly for Jason’s ears only.

His shaking probably gives him away regardless, but he covers it up by letting Nightwing come to his own conclusion that Jason is only taunting him.

And his conclusion’s not wrong per say but - you know? - Jason’s not going to tell him that.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This takes place in between part one and part two before the guys get to the Cave.

I’ma be honest with y’all I don’t know if the clock tower was located in The Hill during War Games but I do know that I’m tired of looking for the answer. It doesn’t matter anyway I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Is this a little more than 500 words? Yes. But I made the rules and as such I can break them.

Edit: edited this bitch and now it’s 700+ words ????? (pretend it’s 500 tho)

also leave a comment I like them, I just won’t respond cause this is a side blog

[musical-chick-13]

Like, I DO think people get too wound up over fictional constructs--that, very pointedly, are not real and whose actions are made up and do not actually affect any real people--doing horrible things in-story, but I also think it's fair for someone to say, "This action sits poorly with me even in a fictional setting, in such an intense way that I cannot move past that or find sympathy for it," and "People are saying this bad behavior isn't actually bad, in a way that is meant to be taken seriously and at face-value, and that makes me severely uncomfortable."

Granted, this all gets muddled very easily because that's not what people mean most of the time, they just want to over-moralize fiction and say, "If you like this pRoBLeMaTiC thing for any reason, you are a menace to society" for Superiority Points. (They also like to invent problems that don't actually exist to "prove" that they have the moral high ground in not liking something remember when people tried to say catra/adora was incest because they grew up together because I sure do.) But I feel like there is a split between people who use "[character] apologism" in the sense of "I will be okay with this character doing whatever fucked-up thing they want in the story because I like them" vs "If you find this character compelling or want them to succeed, you would one-to-one condone their actions irl" vs "I have seen people genuinely say, with no joking or irony, that this character never actually caused any type of harm to the other characters within the story, and I don't like that."

[ohmydais]

Please share (a) line(s) from something you’re currently writing/have written that makes you feel like you were possessed by a dead poet when you were writing it - I really enjoy reading them

[frostbytefandom]

"You're so nice" thanks I'm afraid of anyone being upset with me ever

[cinnamon-bbg]

I deadass just pulled a hair out of my head without flinching

[nightofmiracles]

everyone else: this sucks. i hate this. oscar is losing his grip on his soul. nora is distancing herself form the others/ren specifically. vale is also done for and glynda is kinda M.I.A.? schnees are barely holding it together. tyrian and co are working with the crown and mercury looks like he wish he'd be anywhere else but there. vacuo is getting attacked constantly by grimm. everyone is struggling to hold it together

qrow, for some reason: I'M THE MOTHERFUCKING KING OF THE WORLD WOOOOooOOOOOOOOO YEAH BABY!!!!!!!!!! LET'S GET THIS BREAD

[verfound]

FIC: "Your Face Could..." (MLB; Lukanette)

Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: Teen

Summary: Luka had a stupid face.  And if he’s going to be such a jerk about things, Marinette thinks he deserves to know it.

Author’s Notes/Warnings: …um.  Can I blame this on the heatwave and the mush my brain is?  😂  @quickspinner shared an Insta, and then I did this in maybe ten minutes.  You…a minific shitpost?  Take it for what it is.  😂

(Read on Ao3)

“Your Face Could…”

“You…you…!!!”

Luka lifted an eyebrow, calm as ever, and wasn’t that just the icing on the proverbial fucking cake?  She was already mad enough, but her husband’s maddening unflappability was always enough to make it worse.

…usually.  Sometimes it was helpful.  Like when the fate of the city (or world) was at stake.  She was actually pretty grateful for it then.  But times like now?  When she was already pissed off and he was trying to be sweet and considerate and get her to calm the fuck down?

God, he pissed her the hell off.

And he fucking knew it!

There was that familiar glint in his eyes, that knowing little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth that let her know he knew he was wearing her down.  She’d start to see reason any minute, and she’d stop being pissed at him and opt instead for snuggles, and he would win, just like he always did.  But she didn’t want him to win today!  She wanted to be mad, and frustrated, and to cry and call him a stupid head and maybe kick his ass a little!

She had earned that, right?

Right?

“Don’t you dare,” she huffed, her fists clenching at her sides.  His eyebrow just rose higher.  It was the only part of him that moved: he was still leaning back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest and looking as unflappable as ever.  “I am mad at you, Couffaine.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.  “Unreasonably, but I know.”

“It is not unreasonable!” she shrieked.  The eyebrow ticked again.  She stomped her foot.  “This is your fault!”  He dipped his head towards her, and she wasn’t sure if he had somehow managed to get his eyebrow even higher or if it was just the new angle of his head.  She grit her teeth, her nails pressing into her palms.  “You wipe that smirk off your stupid face right now.”

“Hey,” he said, and the asshole had the audacity to chuckle, “you love this stupid face.”

…she did, but he didn’t need to know that.  Not right now, at least.  A little white lie never hurt anyone for the sake of winning an argument, right?

“I do not!” she whined, stomping her foot again.  He chuckled again, and oh she just wanted to slap him!  “That face is…that stupid face…”

And it just wasn’t fair, because he had her so mad she couldn’t even think straight.

That was the only reason, really.

It had to be.

Her brain was in a rage spiral, and the only insults it could come up with were just as stupid as his stupid face, which…

“…your stupid face could scare slugs off cabbages!” she shouted, her eyes screwing shut as she stomped her foot again.

There was a pause.

A moment of calm, if you will, as her words settled like lead balloons around them.

And then, finally: “…what?”

She opened her eyes, her teeth grinding so hard her jaw almost hurt.  For once, Luka actually looked slightly flapped.

“You heard me!” she huffed.  He nodded, and the smirk was a lot less of a smirk now and more of a grin.  Somehow, that just pissed her off even more.

“…I did,” he said, nodding, “but I really don’t think you should be trying to insult me with dumb Instas I sent you two hours ago.”

Her eyes popped wide.  Her mouth dropped open.  The pickle jar that had started the whole thing fell to the floor and – miraculously – did not break.

“Come on, darning,” he added, dipping his head again as the smirk came back.  “You’re much more creative than that.  You can do better.”

…and that was when the tears started.

“Not when I’m angry and hormonal and stupid, you…you…oh, you asshole!” she cried, dropping her face in her hands to (attempt to) hide the fact that she was crying.  Like that could fool him, though.  She heard him sigh, and she peeked out over her fingertips to find his arms were open.

“Come here,” he sighed, and in the next moment she was cuddled against his chest, her tears soaking his shirt as he wrapped his arms tight around her.  “There, there.  It’s all right, darning.”

“It is not,” she whined.  He kissed her temple and rubbed her back.

“It is,” he said.  He sighed and rested his cheek against her head.  “I will be so glad when our little one’s here and these mood swings stop.”

“…shut up,” she whined.  “I told you it’s your fault.”

“Yes, dear,” he said automatically, dutifully.  She sniffed and peeked up at him, her fingers toying with the collar of his shirt.

“…can you just open the stupid jar now?” she asked, her voice as miserable as ever.  He tipped her chin up and kissed her, and that made her feel maybe a little better.

“Yes, dear.”

And she supposed she didn’t hate him all that much after all.

…even if his stupid face could scare slugs off cabbages.

[fantsticweirdorighthere]

My toxic trait is that I always think everything will be fine lamo

I'm dying, I need hell

[permanentreverie]

it has been an evening of highs and lows, ladies and gentlemen.

[freshfromhell]

can't believe i discarded this scene a million yrs ago......... 😔

“Look at you, neck deep in pussy.”

Billy Hargrove looked down at the collapsed form before him. Slanted sunglasses, and flushed cheeks, and smeared makeup, and a snoring mouth, jaw all askew. 

Mandy Mueller snorted awake, head half hanging off the old plaid couch in Laurie Binkler’s garage. A big fat cat laid across her neck like a scarf, its furry mass clearly closing off her airway if all the honk-shoo snoring and whistle-tone gurgling was anything to go by. Her head popped up, sunglasses falling off her head and onto the floor in a clatter as she jerked into consciousness. 

“Leave her alone,” a freckled girl called from the opposite end of the couch, her body dressed in the ugly green uniform of Hawkins High’s marching band. Ugh, great, Billy thought with a frown. Billy’s mortal-nemesis: Dweebs. “She said she needs to sleep off all the alcohol she drank or she’s gonna die.”

That was definitely not how that worked.

“Yeah, leave her alone,” Mandy slurred out, agreeing even though she clearly had no fucking clue what was going on around her, squinting around all bleary-eyed in her tired, drunken state. “Asshole.”

Oh, my god. 

“You’re being strangled to death, Idiot,” Billy announced in a bid to be helpful, and Mandy muttered a couple of choice words in reply that Billy was going to pretend he didn’t hear to protect his own feelings. Billy gestured to Mueller’s self-appointed representative at the end of the couch with the neck of his bottle. “Were you really gonna let this fucking thing suffocate her like this?”

The girl scratched her nose with a chipped, painted fingernail, looking at him nervously as she inched out, “Ummm, yeah… We already tried to move it, but it, uh, really likes her, y’know?”

Yeah, well, big fucking whoop. So did Billy, but he wasn’t wrapping himself around her and trying to choke her out, was he? Well, he wasn’t tonight, anyway.

“What?” Billy spat out, eyes narrowing in disbelief at the girl. He looked back down at the fluffy gray cat before him, only to find it already staring up at him with creepy green eyes. He frowned, looking away instinctively, before doing a double-take. Eugh. What the fuck? Why was this fucking thing looking at him like that?

“It is so mean,” the girl explained with severe emphasis, rubbing her head with growing concern. “Some guys cornered it up on those shelves and were messing with it, but—!” She pointed an index finger across the room to the shelves filled with large tools and lumber. “Then Mandy came in here and told them that if they didn’t fuck off that she was gonna introduce them to her new best friend over there—“ The girl’s arm swiveled to another far wall, pointing to the chainsaw mounted by the doorway, before she continued, “And they didn’t believe her, so she went over there, ripped it off the wall, started the thing, and then asked if them if they’ve ever seen Scarface.”

“It was super bad ass!” Another geek exclaimed in excitement over the rehashing of the entire event, and Billy sent a dull frown across the group where they were stationed in a quiet corner of the garage, watching and listening like a bunch of nosy creeps.

Billy shifted in thought, taking a long sip of his drink, before asking curiously, “What the fuck does any of that have to do with moving the cat?”

“Well, we think that’s why it’s so attached to her,” she answered with a shrug, and one of the pimply nerds next to her nodded emphatically. 

Was Billy drunk, or did that not answer his question? He pursed his lips in thought.  

“Wait,” he snaked out, raising a single index finger in contemplation as something just occurring to him. “Do you work at the movie theater?”

“Uuhhh,” the girl droned out uncomfortably, eyes darting around shiftily as she drew her knees in tight from her position perched at the edge of an old coffee table. “Yeah, that’s me, I guess.”

“Rape girl,” Billy clarified with a hum.

“That’s—“ She grimaced as if the name physically pained her, shaking her head as she choked out, “Uh, probably not a great thing to call someone.”

Yeah, whatever, Billy thought to himself. 

“But that’s you—?” He prompted, eyes squinting as he tried to connect the girl before him to the girl from last Saturday. All her different uniforms were fucking with his head a little. She was like a secret agent or something with all the weird get-ups. “Right?”

“Uh, yep,” she popped the ‘p’ awkwardly, hunching in on herself. “That’s me.”

“Huh…” He muttered out loud unthinkingly, before gesturing to the sleeping Mueller offhandedly, “You go to school with us?”

“Yeah,” her lips pinched as she scratched her forehead, fussing with her bangs, “I’ve, uh, gone here longer than both of you combined, I think.”

Billy had to withhold from laughing at that. Holy shit, what a loser. That must have sucked.

“And you’re…” Billy trailed off contemplatively as he looked between the once again unconscious Mandy and the ever-annoying girl before him, “Allergic to cats?”

“Uh, no,” she answered, clearly disarmed by his line of questioning, but what the fuck else was he supposed to think in this situation?

“Then why haven’t you moved the cat off her?!” Billy demanded heatedly as he waved his arms down at the lard ass of a cat.

The band geek before him tossed her hands up helplessly as she stood up and announced, “I told you, already! This thing is, like, so mean!!”

A low yowl interrupted their yelling, and both Billy and the girl paused on either side of the coffee table to glance over at the cat. It stared up at them agitatedly, shifting around in one big loaf-like shape atop Mueller to face them down, its big bushy tail flicking across her face now. It must have irritated her nose, because her face scrunched up almost immediately as she awakened again, letting out an annoyed, whiney groan.

She swatted the tail away without even opening her eyes, calling, “What is your problem, Bitch? Get a grip.”

The cat let out a high-pitched mewl in reply, standing to balance atop Queenie as she writhed around on the couch to get comfortable.

“See?” The girl insisted with a vague gesture to the huge cat where it circled around Mandy’s torso, before seating itself very leisurely atop her chest. Queenie let out a pathetic, wheezing breath under its weight like she was a broken squeak toy. “It really likes her! They’re friends!”

“It’s gonna kill her!” Billy argued as he watched the cat begin kneading her flesh, its nails pricking through her off-the-shoulder sweater and pulling loose the threads as it purred loudly, absolutely delighted to be crushing Mueller under its impressive mass. 

“Well—!” Her words choked off abruptly as she floundered, her arms flailing everywhere in her desperation to convey something. “You move it then! See what happens!”

“Fine! I will!” Billy exclaimed, before looking to the cat in question and hesitating. Were they sure it was a cat? It was so big and ugly, it kinda looked like it wandered in from outside. Whatever. He slammed his bottle down onto the table, before pushing up the sleeves of his jacket and moving towards the couch.

It yowled at him again, this time louder and longer and even more unsettlingly. He ignored it, and it hissed, ears going back on its head as it rose up and swiped at him, making him jump back and nearly trip over the coffee table in the process of getting away.

“It’s not a cat—!” Billy declared vehemently, pointing at it as he rounded the table to stand beside Rape Girl again, hands settling on his hips as he glared at the beast that just attacked him, finishing, “It’s a fucking demon!”

It hissed at him and batted at the air wildly like it understood English. 

“It’s totally a cat!” The girl beside him insisted with an annoying amount of exasperation, “It’s just weirdly protective of her, that’s all.”

“Because she’s its next meal!” Billy gestured with a sweep of his arm in Mueller’s direction.

“No, it loves her! They’re best friends!” One of the other dweebs declared, holding her heart. “She’s like a Disney princess!”

Jesus! What was with this place?! Billy wanted to tear out his hair. He fucking hated it here. 

“Stop shouting! I’m up! Ugh!” Mandy complained grumpily, tucking her elbows under her to prop herself up. The cat only moved, stretching down her body and twisting itself onto its back as it meowed for her attention. It draped itself over her, claws stretching down to her hips as its tail waved in her face. She squinted, swatting at the offending appendage.

She looked at the cat, ignoring the rest of the room as she asked it irately, “You gotta fuckin’ problem with me? Quit showin’ your ass, before I kick it.”

It only mewled in reply, swiveling its head around to blink down at her languidly, and she flopped back onto the couch with an exhausted groan, an arm draping across her eyes. It hurried to her again, nuzzling its face into the crook her neck and rolling around until it was once again wrapped around her head.

“Outta my face,” she muttered, shoving it under her arm pit and tucking it down at her side. The cat went without a fight, twisting itself around onto its back as it settled over her abdomen, its body tucked against the back of the couch with its paws facing the sky. Billy scowled.

“Well, don’t you two look nice and cozy,” Billy called down at the pair, and Mandy’s eyes creaked open again.

“Oh, no,” she whined pathetically, tossing her head around on the couch. “I’m already drunk! What more do you want from me?”

Well, he had a joint in his pocket he wanted to share with her. He nabbed it from a stoner in the backyard, taking pity on her after she rushed off earlier to go barf after he and Tommy filled her full with beer. The only issue was that he was a little worried by the implication of sharing. 

Billy Hargrove was not the sharing type.

In his brief moment of hesitation, her eyes opened, gaze clearer as she looked to him very seriously.

“You actually want something, don’t you?” She groaned out, her nose scrunching up at him. “Aw, c’mon, Hargrove!”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he rounded the table towards her spot on the couch.Grabbing the back of one knee, he folded her leg up into her torso and sent the cat back into her face as he slipped between her knees and dropped himself onto the couch with a creak of the old springs. 

“Ow, Asshole!” She complained, kicking the leg he trapped between the couch and his back until she was swinging it into the air over his head and plopping it into his lap to join the other. “I’m a girl, not a chair! Don’t fold me up like that!”

Billy ignored her bitching for the most part, the sound of her nasally voice falling to the backdrop as he pulled the joint from the pocket of his jacket and held it aloft before her with a cool glance. “Ugh! God! What is everyone’s problem—?!”

Her voice cut off abruptly, eyes locking on his fingers. “Who’s that for?”

“You, if you want,” he offered, and her eyes shined at him curiously from over the fluffy body of the cat between them. 

“Why?” She asked, blinking at him. The cat joined her, craning its neck over to him and staring, its tail swishing leisurely over the edge of the couch. 

That was a loaded question. Billy licked his lips, putting the joint to his mouth and reaching for his lighter. 

“You in or out?” He asked, dodging her question. She glanced around the room, gaze a little dimmer than usual, before watching him light the spliff and take an inhale.

The teens around them hunkered down with clangs and gongs of their instruments, seeming to think this was a puff and pass situation, and Mandy rolled her eyes, waving a dainty had around in a silent demand. He handed it over, their fingertips ghosting across one another, before Mueller was pulling the joint to her lips and taking an experimental puff.

She winced, breathing out and coughing as she handed it over. “It’s laced.”

“What?” Billy scoffed, looking down at the lipstick-stained paper in his hand, before bringing it back to his mouth for another inhale, “How the hell do you know that?”

She waved the air, and the cat atop her let out a low, agitated meow in warning. 

“Shut up,” she said to it quietly, like she was embarrassed to be addressing a cat of all things, before she was looking to him. “You can’t tell? Ugh. It’s gross. Keep that shit away from me.”

“More for me then, I guess,” he taunted, breathing out a steady inhale over her way. The cat above her hacked, and Mandy waved the air again, looking to him with supreme irritation as she pushed herself into sitting, pulling her legs from his lap.

Scooting away, she grabbed the cat atop her, tucking it into her lap as she tried to get comfortable, leaning into the arm of the couch and patting around in search for something. Billy watched her lean over the edge of the couch, pulling up her jacket and then her sunglasses, before she was rooting around through her pockets. 

Ugh, god. He could watch her do literally anything and be satisfied. Him and the fat cat in her lap had that in common, apparently. The animal just ducked its head beneath her boobs, looking up through the cage of her arms as she pulled out money and lighters and playing cards from her pockets before she finally pulled out a compact mirror and busied herself with her reflection. 

“Why do I look like I’m melting?” She muttered, and the cat replied with a mewl, which made her startle, nearly dropping her mirror, before she was looking down at the thing with a finger to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t answer that.”

“You can’t really think that thing understands you,” Billy muttered to her, eyes dragging from the cat to her. He could not believe she was entertaining this monster’s bullshit.

Mandy didn’t answer him immediately, busy wiping her face clear of smeared makeup. Billy couldn’t keep his eyes from her mouth as he watched her wipe at the edge of her lips, cleaning her face of the streaks of dark red lipstick. 

“Who cares? I understand him,” she said once she was done, shooting him a curled look of judgement as he blinked away the image of her open mouth, tongue curling into the edge of her lips. “And who even asked you, huh?” 

He shook his head, taking another inhale and letting his head rock back as he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds around the room. Muffled conversation, and the static-y sound of stations changing on the small TV setup across the garage, and the distant thump of music in the house, and Mandy Mueller’s usually caustic voice sounding so soft and sweet and dreamy, asking, “Do you want a kiss?”

The words had his heart jumpstarting in his chest, pictures flying behind the dark shade of his eyelids of all the scenarios he could imagine her sounding sweet just like that, and he took another inhale to calm himself, forcing himself not to launch into action at her words. He held it until his lungs burned, before exhaling and forcing his breath not to tremble as he peeked an eye open in her direction, only to spy her looking down at the cat in her lap. 

He knew it. That fucking bitch. Offering a kiss to that smelly little gremlin when he was literally right here. 

“You look like you do,” she said, voice light and lilting as she cocked her head down at the animal in her lap. It did the same, eyes curious and pupils big and dark as it pushed its nose towards hers, craning its neck up, before reaching up towards her with a cautious paw, gently batting at her cheek, letting out a squeaky mewl in reply.

“Aw, you do, don’t you?” She cooed as it purred at her, settling its paw against her cheek, before its claws kneaded slowly into the flesh of her face, snagging the topmost layer of skin there is it pulled away. The gentle look on her features warped into something cold within a blink, and she grabbed the cat’s face in her palm, manicured fingers stretching over its skull and squeezing cruelly. “I’ll make you regret that.”

She bodied the thing in a flash, slamming it back down into her lap and looking at it forbiddingly through the cage of her fingers as she hissed, “Do. Not. Scratch. My. Face.”

When she released it, it twisted around on its belly, slinking off her lap with its hair on all end, before it was scrambling under the couch by her feet, and Billy sighed, suddenly sympathetic to the creature. He knew how it felt.

“That is so evil!” The girl from earlier called, obviously watching them the whole time.

“It scratched me!” She explained in her own defense, tossing her hands out, “I was defending myself!”

“It’s a cat,” the girl called back smartly, crossing her arms. “It has claws. It scratches.”

Mandy scoffed in return.

“Yeah, and I’m an evil bitch,” she said back in the same snotty tone, before she was sticking out her tongue. “I have those, too. You wanna see what I do with mine?”

The girl deflated at that, looking defeated as she turned back to her friend group, and Mandy scoffed to herself, slamming her compact shut and slumping into the back of the couch with a harumph.

Billy watched her with a sideways smile. God, she was completely out of her fucking mind.  

She packed herself up huffily, hands scrubbing through her hair and arms wriggling into her jacket as she stood and spun on a heel to leave. As she rounded the table and side chair, the cat darted out from under the couch and took off after her, weave through her legs and nearly tripping her. 

She shrieked, stumbling and catching herself just as she passed under the threshold, before she was looking around her confusedly. She patted her pockets, spinning around with a pinched look of confusion, a hand going to her hair, before her eyes settled on him across the room, right where she left him.

“I’m forgetting something important,” she said to herself, before a lightbulb went on in her head and she perked up. She pointed to him, droning out with girly exasperation as she weaved back around the clutter in the garage, “Ugh! Hargrooooove!”

She flapped her hand around with a jangle of bracelets as she neared him, stretching across the arm of the couch to pinch the leather shoulder of his jacket and tug him towards her. 

“C’mon! I’m not leaving you with these losers!”

He took a couple last puffs of the joint, holding the smoke as he tossed the roach in the stained glass ashtray on the table. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he breathed out as she plucked at the sleeve on his arm impatiently. As if he had any hope of denying her.

[mynephewmarriedajaguar]

oh god i'm actually writing.

how do you guys do this and not just collapse after using your brain for that long?? do i cross-post it on here and ao3? or just ao3?? ah!?

[mondaymelon]

guys is there a possibility that any of you hold interest in adoption papers 🥺🥺

[romantically-yours]

YALL A GIRL BOUGHT ME A DRINK YESTERDAY AND I GOT HER NUMBER!!!!

[pathetic-gamer]

good lord the broken printers are on tumblr now...

[sodafrog13]

i think they do gay activities together