#idiots on a love rectangle

[vyunok-obyknovenniy]

Two childhood sweethearts A and B, who get separated, while they are still kids. Now they both are adults and trying to find each other. Each of them meets other people, who they mistake for their childhood love, C and D. C and D are just confused and think, they just don't remember, what happened back then.

Now the two couples are neighbours, without even knowing that. A and C have never met B and D, none of them know, that A and B are the real childhood sweethearts, and the two couples keep having the near encounters, but never actually meet.

From here there are several possibilities, but I want to talk about this one:

AC and BD relationships grow, we get to see both couples separately, their ups and downs and how their love deepens. At some point A and B start thinking, maybe this was a misunderstanding and C and D aren't their childhood love, but they soon stop caring, because they are in love.

Once the two couples fight at the same time. A and B go out to get some air and FINALLY meet. They meet as neighbours, have a nice chat, that helps them both to calm down and go reconcile with their partners. Soon the two couples become friends and are having a good time, until they eventually figure out, that A and B were each other's childhood love (bonus if C and D turn out to be each other's childhood love too).

They have a fall out, some relationship and identity crisis happens, but eventually everything settles down, A is happy with C, B is happy with D, they decide to keep it like that and joke about being a friend group of each other's exes

[rowretro]

𝕾𝖔 𝕾𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖞

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of blood, thriller, gore, death

♡synopsis: Y/n's not afraid of the dark... maybe she might be scared of what's in the dark. The ghosts? monsters? death hunting her down ready to grab her by its fist? of course not. She's scared of her ex.... he's so scary....

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Y/n yawned as she walked down the creepy, dark hallways of the abandoned high school. Tables scattered here and there, blood splatters dried ones and even fresh ones, painting the ground and wall. Evidence of human life being tortured and tormented for days before being ripped into pieces and left on the ground, rotting into the floorboards. Y/n was rather more disgusted, shocked the police hasn't once come across this place... Oh wait- that's a dead officer from the 90's seems he died a few weeks ago. Why was she here exactly?

It's stupid of course. Her dear friend who had been acting weird lately, dragged her to this place, challenging her claiming she'll die of fear before the ghost even gets to her. Y/n was no idiot, denying any invitation to the murder house. Yet Angela Yin, her best friend, dragged her in, the doors shutting behind them, and jammed shut. Then Angela went missing. That's how y/n found herself wandering the empty classroom where the ugly thing was just a second ago. She groaned, grabbing a key she found as she walked toward a door that had a matching lock.

She's ran into the killer once, it left a fog of smoke, causing her trip over small thing. It's nails disgusting and long like claws, head snapped off, hanging backwards. Eyes gauged out and mouth wide open. It was disgusting. its arms reached forward, but it can only see behind itself. That helped y/n, it was so blind it didn't bother looking in the cabinet where she hid in pure silence.

Just as she was about to put the key in the lock, a thick black liquid, slid from under the door, taking over the big, thick wooden rectangle, that blocked whatever was in that room from her. She groaned, arms crossed, as her foot tapped against the tattered floor impatiently, she stared at the many creepy hands holding eyeballs and organs waving them around through the now blackened, inky door. "What do you want from my ghost?... In my 18 years the worst thing I'd ever done to hurt anyone was being sarcastic and throwing parties when I'm home alone, now did that hurt you?" she asked as the eyeballs glared right at her.

"na how bout we talk about what YOU did? kill everyone who tried to send you to a better place, figure out a crime, or at least run home to their family? I don't know why Angela dragged me here, but once I drag that bitch home she's getting it. And you listen to me. I know deep inside you know you did something wrong, hence you killed so many innocent people and are trying to haunt me. I'm not scared of you because you were once a human like me... So why don't you get out of my way, and I leave you alone if you leave me and possibly Angela alone too kay?"

Y/n said confidently as if negotiating with a person who's afraid of her. yet the thick inky liquid disappeared, and the door opened. "That's what I thought." she said, dragging her sharp rusty metal weapon along with her. Yet the doors closed, there stood Angela, eyes pure black, veins visible in her arms and face, no longer blue or purple but black. Her teeth grew sharp as she approached y/n, her bony hands wrapped tightly around y/n's neck, choking her. "Fuck- Angela- What the fuck?! stupid ghost bitch I thought I told you we had a deal." Y/n choked out.

However the girl let go of y/n impulsively, as she fainted, the ghost screaming as it was forced out of her. There she saw a sight that scared her most "Nishimura No......." she mumbled as Riki dusted himself off. "Yes.... Im back baby." he said with a smirk. She threw a table at him and rushed outside, now lost in the dark woods, there, vulnerable, and in the depths of danger, possible vampires and Werewolves that had escaped the military's hold, roaming around in need of blood. That's why she broke up with him.

"Wow babe, one way to say thank you for saving your life, and hi to your darling boyfriend" Riki's deep voice echoed as he walked out from behind the trees. She backed away from him. Her ex. Riki. She broke up with him after she saw her suck the blood of her cousin. "I told you already we're broken up." she said mustering up enough courage to at least try to sound like she was confident in her words. "No you made that decision. Not me, so sorry you're stuck with me." he said as y/n glared at him. He groaned running a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Darling.... I only drink blood of a human when I need to, and I only suck the blood of those who do wrong in the world and you know what your cousin did to you..." he said as he gently grabbed her arm, scanning over the healing scars on her arms. She gently pulled away, feeling herself falling into his love trap yet again, like a moth to a flame. "You're not scared of my love.... you're clearly scared for me... y/n I love you and you're mine you can never change that. I don't understand why me being half demon half vampire scares you.... I'd never hurt you... you know it. They can't ever kill me, I'm practically immortal.... So please. take my hand and let me take you to OUR home." he said as he grabbed her arm... yet she pulled away roughly.

"Nishimura Riki. I may love you... but I don't trust you... I don't want you anymore.... Im over you..." she said, almost as if convincing herself, "Then you leave me no choice." He said, yanking her into his embrace, teeth stabbing into her collarbone.... He imprinted her, kissing her lovingly right after. There's no turning back now "I'll go home then-" Angela suddenly said walking toward her boyfriends car, as y/n was still dazed.

She was his now. She realized how too such perfect care of her, before their break up, and even now, as she stared at the permanent mark on her collarbone in the reflection of the mirror. She didn't find him so scary anymore. The comforting environment of his groans of annoyance every time he lost a game his comfortable room, his cologne intertwining in the air, the large white sweater that slipped off her shoulder, so comfortable as she hugged it closer to her skin, his sweater...He's not so scary after all...

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[clown-paws]

[ID below caption.]

> uhhhh another tired jonny. cuz i love him, the stupid idiot.

[Image Description: A digital painting of Jonny D'ville from The Mechanisms. It is a full body painting. He is turned to the right, stretching his arms behind his back with a scrunched up face, standing on his toes.

Jonny is a fat man with light skin, freckles covering his whole body, pointy ears and stretch marks on his stomach. He has short, dirty blonde hair and dark mustache and goatee, and hair covering his arm and stomach trail. He is wearing a thin, black choker, a black earring and two helix rings. He has sharp nails, painted his signature red and black. His sweatpants are a faded, mid blue, his cropped vest is burgundy, and his socks are black with red toes and heels. The background is a saturated indigo with a neon light blue rectangle and outline behind Jonny. End ID.]

[elmuvahva]

let me talk about leo and donnie’s matching clothes pLEASE

plus a lil bit of mikey and raph near the end :>

so we all know the obvious ones like in ‘repairin’ the baron’ and in ‘man vs sewer’

but i want to talk about the little things hehe. starting with the two mentioned above anyways lmaooo

yes they’re matching but i love the little differences they add on. leo wears a blue undershirt, fully going ride or die with his blue theme, while donnie goes for a white undershirt for a more classic look.

i think that says a lil but about their characters and how they thought to present themselves to april’s mum (who they thought they were meeting). they both wanted to look good hence the stunning matching outfits, but leo also wanted to be himself (hence the blue undershirt), compared to donnie who wanted to appeal to april’s mother (hence the more classic look with the white).

in man vs sewer, they are both wearing the singlet and board short combo, however leo opts for simplicity and ‘laidbackness’ keeping the bare minimum and keeping his shirt loose and untucked. donnie on the other hand goes further and adds the extra decorative shirt to really hammer home the ‘i’m not a useful member of society’ and the holiday/break vibes he’s trying so hard to feel. he also chooses to tuck his shirt in, which i think is just a personal stylistic choice, one which extenuates and shows off the board shorts more and one which mirrors his belt that’s a part of his usual outfit.

now onto snow day :>

at a brief glance it doesn’t seem like they’re matching but you’d be wRONG! they’re wearing the same shoes, pants and scarf, however they choose different jackets and headgear according to their personal tastes (i also wanna point out how donnie’s pants are more boxy/puffy at the bottom to fit with his whole rectangle theme, while leo’s are tucked in firmly, providing a more angular/triangular look).

leo chose a sirius black looking leather jacket bc why wouldn’t he lmaooo. it very much screams leo in the sense of his faceman attitude and his ‘confidence.’ he also chose a beanie which provides a more hippie, laidback and cool vibe.

donnie, ever the nerd, matches his jacket and headwear, as they both have the light purple fluff. donnies jacket is also much more practical and feels like something you’d see skii-ers (how tf do you spell that), hikers and snow-bikers wear. he’s also wearing the ugliest fucking hat /lh that’s reminiscent of what those occupations also wear.

so what we can take away from this is that leo will look cool whatever the weather and donnie will dress for the practicality of the occasion.

now in the clothes dont make the turtle there are A LOT of matching outfits, not just from donnie and leo, for example, in the images above, all the boys are wearing classic black suits with white button downs, however they all style them differently.

i’d also like to note the slight differences on the collars of the suit jackets (leo and donnie’s are matching, mikey’s is more rounded with a lil point and raph’s mirrors his spikes).

they all style their suits differently by using different ties. leo goes for a black and blue striped tie, which i think showcases his sense of style and his playfulness in comparison to raph, who decides to play it safe with a classic one-toned tie.

mikey goes for a cute bowtie bc why wouldn’t he he’s adorable, and it also fits in with him being the youngest and ‘the baby’, as bowties are most commonly worn by kids.

donnie decides to completely forego the tie altogether bc he doesn’t need it, he’s already stunning 😩 lmao but i actually think he’s just really playing into his emotionally unavailable bad boy image.

there’s also these matching monstrosities for god knows what reason

and it’s not super matchy, but raph and leo also both rock the singlet under the open button down shirt (though the colours are swapped and leo pops the collar causes he’s an idiot /aff)

and lastly!! these outfits. now at first glance, you’re probably thinking ‘elva what the fuck are you going on about’ BUT just hear me out!!

they both have ripped aspects to their outfits, leo’s at the shoulders and donnie’s at the waist. it’s obviously not an intentional match but i think they just subconsciously did it :>

they’re also both wearing head accessories, though in totally different styles (leo with his backwards cap to look ‘cool’ while donnie adorns a beanie to complete his LA hipster vibe)

ugh i’ve met the image limit for this post so here’s the link to the post that continues my rambling lolol

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!!

Welcome back to my crack posts! =D

We Are ep 9 is as hilarious as it's frustrating, and I will continue to the whys below with a healthy dose of crack. <3

Warning: long post 😊😅

Ohoho, our little boy is jealous and... its not even 5 minutes in (2 minutes since the actual start). Is that a new record?

Kluen: can I just sleep beside you- 😊

Phum: No. 🙂

Poor Toey getting roped into this too 😭

(something something, Chain helping Toey get Q jealous while Phum uses Toey as a buffer for the cause of his jealousy)

Our favourite old married couple hehe (who aren't actually dating yet-)

My poor Phum 😭

Okay, as much as I don't like Kluen, I have to give it to him for being so straightforward, going as far as telling Phum that he likes Peem when he realizes that Phum might does like him too.

Also the t-shirt: We Are Volunteer.

Yes! Call him out!

We really need more call out-ers in BL.

I laughed so hard my cat looked at me weird 😭😂

Children really are the best eyy

Phum looks so betrayed oh gods 😭

The 'I know what you're doing but I'll still play along cause I like you too, ai'kwai' look. Ah, a classic from thai bl.

This reminds me of when Tinn says "How can I be your friend? I like you!" when Gun finds him after he ran away from the MV shoot.

(And Gun replies, "You think I can?")

On one hand we have Phum who bribes children with chocolates (that he just happens to have in his pocket) to lure away his crush from his rival.

On the other we have Q who simply up and runs away when his friend faux-swipes his crush's sweat simply to make him jealous.

*looks between them and shakes head* these boys are absolutely hopeless

Our favourite married couple part 2 (who are actually dating)

continued:

Pun and Mick just here playing around 😭👍🏼

Peem was right, if they were the only ones in charge of cooking, no one would get any food T~T

But... how exactly did "cut into round shapes" get converted to "cut into round glasses" to "rectangles"? 😶

Fang is so done with these idiots 😭👍🏼

In this moment, I kid you not, my brain played the "what did he sayyy" meme 😶

Phum: *bombastic side eye of death*

Yes, please. We've been waiting for this for 8 and a half episodes.

Yes, and you are the nosiest peep, now continue.

Ah, so Fang is actually the violent sibling, and him and Phum (and Tan, apparently) got into frequent fights, it seems like.

Got caught red handed 😭

Tan is so dead

Wait... so Tan and Fang had a beginning much like Phum and Peem? 👀

Rivals to lovers for both brothers it is, then.

And I feel so bad for Phum, poor guy has been a third wheel since his high school days 😭

...somehow, I think Chain and Pun will put even TanFang to shame when they actually start dating 😶

'Course you have. You just played with water with your besties the other day

And with friends like yours, Peem? It's unlikely you'll go one day without playing around with something or the other

Beer doing God's work here 😭🙏🏼

I love how Beer is both perceptive and observant of his friends, and knows just what to say to get them moving.

He wants the best for Phum and even tells him how he's happy that Peem came into his life, and Phum is a lot more lively these days. (MSP flashbacks again anyone? No? Just me?)

He might not be as playful or enthusiastic as Peem's friends, but he knows what his friends need and he'll try his hardest to make sure they have it. He's just such a good friend.

Phum telling him about the Deal™ also shows us just how much he trusts Beer.

Love him <3

Sweetie, I understand you need some space, but you don't talk to your future boyfriend possible crush like that 😭

Nothing to see here, just a goodnight kiss.

Jokes aside, I like that Peem tries to figure out what's wrong, but he doesn't push too hard. And even tries to provide some comfort to Phum.

And in these moments with just them, Phum has bursts of courage to show his affection, and show Peem how much he means to him, instead of just telling him.

I don't think this is him being emotionally constipated (he is, no doubt about it, but strangely not as much when it comes to Peem), but more of him being unsure of where he stands with Peem (as I mentioned in last week's post).

Are they just friends because their friend groups merged? Acquaintances forced to be close due to circumstances? Just creditor and debtor? Is the deal all that's holding them together?

Well, Phum needs to find the answers. (Preferably and possibly within the next episode)

*sigh* they're gonna kill me with fluff (and I'm gonna die happy)

This is my favourite scene of this ep. Just crushes cuddling each other with sleep, the rest of the evil world (Kluen) forgotten for the moment.

Ah. I love cuddles even more than kisses, not gonna lie

Also, ep 10 seems promising!

Anyways, that's all for now, see you next week! And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a bubble tea and a cookie 🧋🍪

[rickmymanrick]

one rule | the walking dead

[ rick grimes x original female character! ]

there's only one rule in the new world… survive.

In which best friends Daphne Ayala and Glenn Rhee form a ring of survivors that would pave the way for the new world.

** This story will eventually have a Rick Grimes romance (SLOW BURN) but focuses on Daphne's story after the fall. It may deviate from the events of the tv show and at times won't follow a specific script or season. There will be switching POVs (Characters/1st/3rd Person).

chapters!

prologue —

in the present time, rick grimes experiences what hell on earth truly is.

chapter one ; partners —

unbeknownst to them, best friends glenn rhee and daphne ayala spend the last 48 hours of normalcy they’ll ever have before their lives are changed forever.

chapter two ; the evacuation —

the statewide evacuation is underway and it goes terribly wrong terribly fast. daphne and glenn undergo an impromptu rescue mission and soon their group of two becomes a group of 5.

chapter three ; the group —

it's been a month since the complete collapse of civilization. when daphne and glenn realize this is their new way of life, they begin to strategize the best ways of survival. along with the new members of the group, they fall into a steady routine, until a one-sided fight breaks out and everything is knocked out of order.

chapter four ; the idiot in the tank —

a supply run goes wrong and daphne finds herself reunited with an old acquaintance. old feelings unwillingly resurface but she forgets one big glaring problem back at camp.

chapter five ; maneater --

glenn and rick try out a new technique in order to survive and reunite with the rest of the group. back at camp, daphne and shane reach an understanding.

chapter six ; love rectangle —

rick confides in daphne for reasons unknown to her. as she offers him counsel, daphne is also grappling with conflicting feelings of her own.

chapter seven ; chef boyardee —

the plan goes wrong. daphne and glenn find themselves in a precarious situation but at least they have each other, right?

chapter eight ; the attack —

in a rush to deescalate what they presumed was merle's fury on camp, daphne and the crew arrive to something terrifyingly different.

extras;

rick’s pov (chapter six)

Important Character Info:

Daphne Ayala. She's a 23-year-old Latina woman who's working towards becoming a detective (hopefully for the FBI or some higher agency one day). As part of her training, she has to complete a few years of service in whatever local police department has an opening. You can see where this is going right? Her best friend is Glenn Rhee, with whom she shares an apartment with, and they're practically attached at the hip.

Rick Grimes has been aged down a bit though his actual age was never mentioned in the show. I imagine he's around 29, nearing 30 at the beginning of season 1. That would make Carl 9 years old (rather than 12 as he was in the show).

Hello AO3/Tumblr! I write under the pseudonym, Elle (She/Her)! I'm a Caribbean, South American brown writer who loves wayyy too many universes/fandoms lol. Current hyperfixation-- you guessed it: The Walking Dead. I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to comment anything that comes to mind while reading. I absolutely love reading what you all have to say (I have previously written for Wattpad and Tumblr).

ORIGINALLY TITLED THE TRAIL OF ANNIHILATION

[skekthesilly]

i saw the cutest piece of sprunki fanart ever omg im NOT gonna get attached to these dandys world lookin ass rainbow friends creatures im NOT gonna get attached to them im NOT gonna get attached to them im NOT im NOT im NOT im NOT im OT im NOT im NOT IMM NGJNRINHYHDGJSFGHKSNFGTJJT PUNCHES THE WALL CRIES PUNCHES THE WALL

WHY DOES EVERYONE NEED TO DRAW THEM SO CUTE

LOOK AT THESE STUPID LITTLE IDIOT CREATURES. THEYRE LIKE BUGS. THEYRE LIKE STUPID LITTLE BUGS. AGHRGHAGHRGRGA

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,G,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

theyre. theyre literally. j. theyre. look at how stupid they look. theyre so. im killing them

look at these stupid idiots. look at how stupid they are. theyre so stupid. theyre literally a circle and a rectangle. what do you mean people have fire ass fanon designs for them i cant do this anymore i CANT get attached to them im going to scream im literally,

im gonna kill all of these stupid little bugs. im gonna squash them. squish them. because theyre stupid. stupid idiots. they dont know how stupid they are......

sheds a single tear....... what do you MEAN im getting attached to them....... i cant............ they look stupid.............. <- says the person who likes object shows

im gonna KILL THEM. im ri;pping them apart and eating them

the creators pretty cool. they made a mod showcasing other incredibox mods bc sprunki was taking the spotlight. anyways

IM KILLING THESE STUPID LITTLE BUGS. AGRGAHGRAGRAGHRG

what do you MEAN i want them to kiss. theyre SHAPES. theyre COLORFUL SHAPES what do you mean i have the urge to draw SPRUNKI YAOI. CRIES. I LOVE THEM. I HATE THEM. IM KILLING THEM. AFFECTIONATELY. WH

[moved-to-mettatonsbestie]

You know what. I DO wanna know about the religious imagery with Mettaton. Tell me all about it *laying on my chest kicking my feet up in the air*

@therowansweeps @mtt-brand-idiot

Let us start with his name. Remember that majority of the names in Undertale/Deltarune are very particular, whether it be for a funny joke or something with a dual meaning (ex: Toriel is just Tutorial, Undyne being Undying, etc). The etymology is rather important with characters, and Mettaton is certainly no exception. His name is most likely derived from the angel Metatron, found in Judaism, Christianity and Islam. He was one of the only two humans to attain Heaven in the form of an angel, he was originally a righteous man named Enoch who was gifted with the form of an angel by God once he died. Now, the names being similar could very well be a coincidence, but one must also take note of the fact that Metatron is transliterated as MTT in Greek; which is too much of a coincidence to not be intentional.

So... his name is taken from an angel, which is already an allusion to the notion of deities and religion. Furthermore, this angel in particular is a rather interesting candidate to be compared with Mettaton... Both of these figures were something else entirely before they obtained their true forms, and changed their name along the way. They have even further parallels when you look at the name's meaning and Mettaton's actions. Metatron is most likely derived from the verb memater, which means to guard or protect; very striking when one considers the fact that Mettaton is very much a protector in Genocide/No Mercy Route; he quite literally gives his life to protect the Underground, as a guardian angel would do.

Furthermore, he is quite literally a celebrity, an idol. He even says it himself, he is the idol everyone craves. This is a double entendre, referring to him being a celebrity or figure to look up to, or a literal deity. Deities are all considered idols, they are to be worshipped; the very notion is entirely what his character is about. He loses his humanity, he is no longer a person. Hell, he is not even seen as alive, in his quest to be the true idol for humanity and monsterkind. He is worshipped and adored, yet is it genuine? Do the people know and love the real him? No. He is the heater, the Underground's sexiest rectangle, he is seen as just a robot. He is complacent in this, yet to hide his past and help Alphys he gave his humanity away.

It is a rather cruel twist on the story of Metatron actually... Metatron was given a wonderful gift by his creator, God gave him immortality and the blessing of being truly holy. This transformation into something else was divine, yet the same cannot be said about Mettaton. He was given the body of his dreams, yet it will never come without a terrible cost. His humanity and agency was given away, he even got used for functions he would be completely against; such as his creator giving him human eradication functions to "make him more useful", something the human loving ghost would never agree to until the last possible moments in a Pacifist run. Regardless, Mettaton falls into both the categories of being the idol and being God's pawn, which is rather interesting.

And of course... he is not without true fans either, take Spamton for example. Spamton supposedly spent all of his time praying to an artifact, the very machine that created NEO; which evidently has direct ties towards Mettaton NEO. I honestly never played the Spamton NEO fight yet, so I cannot comment too much on it, however Mettaton is quite literally an overworld being being unknowingly worshipped and prayed to by someone who resides below; this blind faith being found in every religion.

So yeah... Whether it was directly intentional or not, Mettaton as a whole has a decent amount of religious imagery and themes with his character that it becomes rather important to properly dissect him fully. I barely remember writing any of this, he probably possessed me and made me write this.

[accipio]

@absolutionem

Hawke awakens with great reluctance, squinting groggily at blurry red lines that slowly coalesce into the numbers on his bedside alarm clock. 7:56 AM. Far too early. He glares at the bars of sunlight streaming in from between the blinds and turns over to face the wall. Maybe if he falls back asleep now he can get back to that dream he was having, though his sleep-addled mind can’t recall quite what it was about. Something pleasant, to be sure—the scent of elderflower and moss mingling with the faintest hint of lyrium, rough stubble against his cheek, Cullen’s palm warm and steady against his—

Oh, shit. He bolts upright, the details of the dream flooding back. Every moment is rendered in perfect clarity, more akin to a memory of a real event than the hazy vestiges of a dream. In his mind’s eye, he sees it all—the Gallows, the desire demon, Cullen’s miraculous arrival, the… what came after that.

He groans, rubbing his eyes. You idiot, you’re lucky you’re not waking up an abomination. Like any mage, he’s no stranger to demonic temptation. He knows all the usual tricks, and he knows never to trust anyone he meets in his dreams, not even if they wear the face of someone he cares for. Especially not then. It’s plain to him now that Cullen could not have actually been in the Fade with him; therefore, what he encountered must have been another demon—a demon whose charade he fell for hook, line, and sinker. By all accounts, it ought to have possessed him. He can’t for the life of him understand why it didn’t, but he’s not one to question his own preternatural good luck.

He’s about to write off the experience as a lesson learned when he feels something cold and hard next to his leg. He reaches for it, wondering if he left his phone on the bed again. Instead of the familiar metal rectangle, his fingers close around smooth glass. No. It’s not possible. 

The makeshift phylactery sits in the palm of his shaking hand, the vial’s contents bright crimson in the morning sunlight. What the fuck? Did he make this in his sleep? Manifest it, somehow…? His mind supplies a half dozen possible explanations, each more far-fetched and disturbing than the last.

Then, because today is really not shaping up to be his day, the doorbell rings. He curses under his breath, throwing on a ratty bathrobe that he doesn’t bother to tie. He’s taken to sleeping only in boxer shorts, which make the heat more tolerable but aren't ideal attire for entertaining visitors. “Just a moment,” he calls, a trifle testily, wondering who in the Void would pay a social call at this hour. He stuffs the phylactery in his robe pocket, partly because he doesn’t know what else to do with it and partly because he’s paranoid that it’ll disappear back into the Fade once it’s no longer on his person.

He races to the door, knowing that he must look an utter mess—hair even more disheveled than usual, beard untrimmed and unoiled, robe just barely maintaining the pretense of decency. “Sorry for the—oh.” Standing in the doorway is quite possibly the last person in the universe he wants to face right now. What is he even supposed to say? Lovely morning, isn’t it? By the way, I just had a dream in which a demon wearing your face kissed me senseless right after I bared my soul to it. Or maybe: I think I might have feelings for you, and those feelings have physically manifested in my house in the form of a phylactery. Weird, right? 

Since saying any of that would likely result in him eating a Smite, he simply steps aside and opens the door a little wider. “Do you, uh, want to come in?���

[mysterytwins-anda-triangle]

Hey!!

What are yall's thoughts on squares?

Also, do any of you want garlic bread?

Squares? Um…

They’re very SQUARE! HAHA!

…Very funny.

Hey, if you stretch out a square, it becomes a rectangle! Like a dollar bill! So, not bad!

HATE squares! Why choose a square over a triangle? You’d have to be some kind of IDIOT!

You’re not allowed the answer the question, Bill.

I mean, technically, they said ‘yall’

LOVE THAT ATTITUDE, SHOOTING STAR!

[sequinsmile-x]

You Could Stay

He showed her that he loved her every day, and she thought that would be enough for her. But when it came down to it, it wasn’t. She wanted to hear it, to have the confirmation she hadn’t known she’d needed until she didn’t get it. 

Emily tells Aaron that she loves him, but he doesn't say it back.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is based on a prompt the lovely @eobangingwhen sent me! I really hope you enjoy this bestie <3

This is pure idiots in love stuff with a pinch of angst thrown in for flavour. Perfect Friday night stuff!!

Hope those of you who went back to work this week made it through it is...tough out there!!

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It’s late when Aaron makes it back to the hotel.

He’d sent everyone back for the night hours ago but stayed at the precinct at the lead detective’s request for help with the paperwork. He sighs as he puts the keycard in the door and pushes it open, determined to go to bed as soon as possible. He frowns as he steps into the room and a white rectangle on the carpet gets his attention. He lets the door close behind him before he reaches down to pick it up, smiling when he realises it’s a keycard with a Post-it note stuck to it, his girlfriend's familiar handwriting scrawled across it. 

Come to my room when you get back - no matter how late. Can’t sleep without you. Em x 

He places the note in his pocket and then makes quick work of his nighttime routine, wanting nothing more than to go see Emily, to have some alone time with her after spending the day pretending she was no more than a member of his team. 

They’d been together for two months now. It had been eight weeks of happiness he never thought he’d have again, of peace he found in her smile and her presence. She brought him, and Jack, more joy than he thought possible and much more than he thought he deserved. 

He loved her. He’d known that for far longer than they’d been together, the name for what he’d been feeling for years finally coming to him when he stood over her empty grave. He’d gone to Pakistan because he couldn’t bear to live surrounded by the what-ifs, haunted by the fact he hadn’t been able to save her. He’d told himself for months that if he saw her again he’d tell her how he felt, that he’d ask her out, but he hadn’t been able to. The words caught in his throat whenever she was near, fear that she’d say no always stopping him.

In the end, she was the one who started things. She’d leant forward and kissed him, a sparkle in her eyes as she pulled back that still made him smile if he thought about it. She’d said that she’d wanted to kiss him for years, that she couldn’t stop herself from doing it anymore, and his response had been to kiss her again, his lips firm against hers as he curled his hand around the back of her head. 

He’d almost told her he loved her then but stopped himself, his request to ask her out to dinner escaping instead, her immediate acceptance enough to make his skin tingle. He’d almost told her several times since then, the words always on the tip of his tongue, buried against her collarbone as they had sex or held back as she straightened his tie for him in the morning before they left for work. 

The same thing stopped him every time - the thought that she deserved better. 

For someone who had always prided herself on compartmentalising, she had so much love to give. She showered him, and his son, with it. Even though she hadn’t said the words yet, he felt it. She let him know without saying it. She was tactile - something he’d always known about her but hadn’t been on the receiving end until they were together. She was always touching him. Her hand on his arm or shoulder, a soft kiss against his cheek as she stood up to get more snacks when they were watching TV. She even made a point of making her fingers linger over his when she passed him coffee or a file at work, a gentle reminder that told him she was there.

He didn’t feel worthy of her love, of how freely she gave it to him. He found it more difficult to express it, years and years of repressing how he felt, taught from an early age that emotions made him weak, too much to fight against. He hoped she felt loved, that she knew how precious she was to him, but he feared the day she’d figure out she could do better, that she deserved to be with someone who could love her the way she loved them in return. 

He’s quiet as he walks down the hallway to her room, keen to make sure he doesn’t wake any of the team up as he walks past their rooms. No one knew about them yet, but they’d decided to tell them soon, something that he and Emily had agreed on. 

He lets himself into her room, his smile soft when he sees her sitting up in bed, her book on her lap and her eyes sleepy as she looks up at him.

“Hi, honey,” she says quietly, immediately closing her book and placing it on her nightstand, unsure if she’d even read anything in the last 20 minutes or so as she waited for him, “You were there late.” 

He hums as he toes his shoes off at the door and walks across to the bed, “We went over a lot of the paperwork,” he says, stamping a kiss against her cheek as he sneaks under the covers next to her, “We’ll have less to do tomorrow at least.” 

She smiles as she cups his cheek and drags him in for a kiss. She nuzzles her nose against his as she pulls back, “Did you eat?”

He feels warmth spread through his chest at the soft question, his lips pressed together as he nods, “Yeah, I grabbed something,” he encourages her to lay down and lays down with her, gathering her against his chest before he turns to switch off the lamp on the nightstand. 

She yawns as she settles against him, her head on his shoulder as she throws her leg over his waist, “I’m so tired.” 

He kisses the top of her head and runs his hand up and down her back, allowing his fingers to sneak under the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing, one that used to belong to him, “You could have gone to sleep, sweetheart.” 

“Can’t sleep without you,” she mutters, turning her head to kiss his throat, “You’re warm and comfy.” 

He chuckles, his hand still rubbing circles on her back in a way that he knows will send her to sleep, “Good to know that’s why you keep me around.” 

She hums, “You have other uses I guess.” 

Aaron shakes his head and kisses the top of her head again, “Goodnight, Em.” 

“Night,” she says, sighing contentedly, “Love you.” 

He tenses momentarily as she says it, his grip on her tighter for a second as her sleepy words wash over him. He waits for a follow-up, for her to say something else, but nothing comes. He looks down at her and sees that her eyes are closed. 

She’d fallen asleep, she probably wasn’t even aware she’d said it. That she’d uttered the words they’d been talking around for weeks. 

He blows out a breath and kisses the top of her head, his eyes closed as he breathes her in, the scent of her calming him for a moment before he pulls back. 

She loved him, but he knew she deserved better.

___

He hadn’t said it back.

It’s all she can think about from the moment she wakes up the next morning, still tangled up in his arms. 

She hadn’t meant to say it, not then anyway. The words had escaped without any thought. Simply being with him, safe and content in his embrace after a day of pretending he was just her boss, had been enough to make them slip free. She’d frozen when she realised what she’d said, his own tension as her words registered enough for him to miss how her back had straightened. She’d closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, hoping that she’d hear some kind of response but he didn’t say anything. He’d kissed her forehead and kept his arms around her, his hand moving up and down her back still until she eventually drifted off into a restless sleep. 

She’d purposely put distance between them all day. Irritation and hurt bubbling under her skin every time she looked at him because he hadn’t said it back. 

It’s not that she didn’t feel loved by him. He had never been a man of many words, but a man of action. He loved her by looking after her, something she’d never let anyone else do for her. He had bought her favourite shampoo and conditioner and placed it in his shower caddy so she had something to use when she was over. He had her favourite wine at his place and left candy on her desk because he’d ‘seen it in the store and thought of her.’ He showed her every day, and she thought that would be enough for her. 

But when it came down to it, it wasn’t. She wanted to hear it, to have the confirmation she hadn’t known she’d needed until she didn’t get it. 

Even though they leave the precinct at the same time that day she goes to her room alone. She turns down the team's request for a drink in the bar and heads to her room, her shoulders sagging as soon as she is alone. She changes into her pjyamas, cursing herself for only packing t-shirts that she’d stolen from him, and she climbs under the over-starched sheets of her bed. 

She’s not sure how long she lies there before she hears the beep from the door that indicates a keycard has been inserted. She sits up in bed immediately and forces a smile as she looks at him.

“Hi,” she says, clearing her throat as she throws the covers off of herself, climbing out of bed and towards the mini-bar, “Want a drink?” 

“No,” he replies, purposely keeping a distance from her because he can sense that’s what she wants, “I had one with dinner.” 

She nods and presses her lips together as she pulls out a mini bottle of scotch from the bar and pours it into a glass, “Has everyone gone to bed now?"

“Yeah,” he replies, stepping towards her, frowning as she puts more space between them, “Em, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head as she drinks the scotch in one go, the burning of it down her throat a desperately needed distraction from the ache in her chest, “Nothing is wrong.” 

The obvious lie makes his shoulders tense, memories of the last time she’d been evasive with him, of when she’d died so she could survive, hitting him square in the chest, briefly making him breathless, “That’s not true.” 

She rolls her eyes, the irritation she’d felt at him all day sparking in her blood, “Aaron-”

“Please don’t lie to me, Emily.” 

She sighs and she crosses her arms over her chest, holding herself together in a way she’d recently learnt to allow him to. She presses her lips together as he looks at her earnestly, and she feels a flash of anger that he doesn’t get it, that he didn’t know what was wrong. 

“I told you that I love you and you didn’t say anything back,” she says, clicking her tongue before she laughs bitterly, “You just…you didn’t say anything back.” 

He clenches his jaw, irritation aimed only at himself rolling through him as he realises she had been awake and that he’s done what he promised himself he wouldn’t - he’d hurt her. He knew he owed her an explanation, that he should say something, but he still felt paralysed. 

“Em-”

“Oh God, what the fuck have you done to me,” she says, cutting him off, talking to herself more than him. She turns away, her hand covering her eyes as she blows out a slow breath and she shakes her head as she turns back to look at him, “This is so fucking high school. This isn’t who I am. I’m not someone who gets like this but you’ve made me…you’ve ruined me,” she swallows thickly and she feels tears press at the back of her eyes, and she knows he has to leave, that she won’t allow herself to break down in front of him. She clears her throat, “You should go.” 

“Em, sweethear-”

“Go. Please,” she says, her voice thick as she avoids looking at him as she stops him from calling her the nickname that meant more to her than she thought it should, “I think I need to be alone tonight.” 

He wants to argue, wants to tell her it’s not what she thinks, that he loves her so much it makes him ache, but he can’t. The words die in his throat as they have so many times before and he nods, deciding if he can’t give her what she deserves he can give her what she has asked for. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, and her only response is to nod, her eyes fixed on the floor as she refuses to look at him. 

As he steps out into the hallway he hears the second lock on her room click, taking away his ability to get back in with the keycard still clasped in his hands, and he curses under his breath. He shakes his head at himself and walks back towards his room, regret and self-hatred he was all too familiar with making his skin itch. 

He digs through his pocket to find his own keycard when he comes across a folded-up piece of paper. He pulls it out and blows out a breath when he realises it’s the note from Emily that she’d left him the day before. Her handwriting, the admission that she slept better with him, something she would have once considered a weakness, staring back at him. 

“Damn it, Aaron,” he says to himself, his palm flat against his hotel room door as he leans on it, his teeth clenched as he berates himself. 

She’d been brave so many times throughout all of this. She’d kissed him first. She’d given herself so many parts of herself, tiny puzzle pieces of her past he knew she’d never shared with anyone else, so he could know her better. 

She’d told him she loved him. 

It was his turn to be brave. 

He turns around again, a determination in his step as he walks towards her bedroom again, knocking on the door the second he’s in front of it. 

“Emily. I need to talk to you.” 

“I said go away.” 

Her voice is muffled by the door, but he can hear the thickness of it, how she was clearly holding back tears, and it just makes him more determined to fix what he’d done. 

“Please, sweetheart,” he says, his hand flat against the door as he rests his forehead on it, “It’s not that I don’t love you…of course I love you. You’re you. I’d be a fool not to. It’s just…you deserve so much more than me, Em.” 

The silence that follows makes him nervous, his heart beating so loudly he can hear it. He hears a throat clearing from behind him and his eyes go wide as he turns. 

The team were all standing in the doorways of their rooms, a mix of confused frowns and smirks staring back at him as they step out into the hall. Derek looks surprised, his eyes slightly narrowed as he looks at his boss, and Spencer just looks confused, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks back and forth between Aaron and Emily’s door. JJ and Dave both look amused, a knowing glint in the older man’s eyes that makes Aaron roll his, and a smile on JJ’s face that lets him know she’s putting together a few things in her head. 

“Well isn’t this interesting,” Dave says, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans on the doorframe of his room, “Are you declaring your love for all of us one at a time, Aaron? Or is Prentiss special in some way? 

“Dave, I swear to-”

Aaron’s response is cut off as Emily’s door opens, her eyes widening as she takes in the audience they have as she appears in the doorway. She looks at her boyfriend, his eyes seeping desperation as they meet hers, and she steps back.

“You’d better come in.” 

He smiles gratefully at her as he steps past her into her room, and she stares at their friends for a second before she makes a point of closing the door a little too hard behind them. She blows out a breath as she turns to look at Aaron, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Well,” she says, clearing her throat, “That was one way for them to find out.” 

He chuckles, the sound catching in his chest, painful as it pushes past his ribs as he watches her face, hating the fact he can’t read her, “Not ideal, but it saves a conversation I guess.” 

She laughs, “If you think they’ll let us get away with that you’re kidding yourself,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek as she watches him carefully, “And then there’s Pen to deal with.” 

He smiles at her but it fades, the weight of what they hadn’t spoken about heavy in the air around them. He steps towards her, itching to touch her, to pull her into his arms, “Em-”

“What did you mean when you said you think I deserve better than you?” She asks, tilting her head as she looks at him, her eyes full of nothing but love and curiosity. 

He sighs and scratches the back of his head as he sits down on the edge of her bed. He rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, shaking his head at himself as he tries to put everything he’d been feeling for weeks into words. 

“I’m not any good at this,” he says, his gaze fixed on the floor, “I was a terrible husband to Haley in the end, I didn’t love her like I should have. I’m doing my best every day to be better for my son and now you but…it still doesn’t feel like enough. I’m broken, Em. And I don’t think I can be fixed.” 

He jumps when he feels her hand on his shoulder, unsure when she had joined him sitting on the bed, and he looks up at her. He’s not sure what he expected when his eyes meet hers, but all he’s met with is understanding.

“Honey, I’m broken too,” she says, smiling when he tries to correct her, squeezing his hand tightly in a silent request for him to stop, “I think it’s why we work. We understand each other in a way no one else can. We know how hard it is to try and pick up the pieces and start again,” she reaches out and cups his cheek, gently stroking her thumb back and forth over his cheek, “And as for Haley, you’re loving her in the best way you can now by loving and raising Jack. It’s what she wanted and you’re honouring that. It’s one of the many, many reasons I love you.” 

It’s a redo of the moment from last night, a second chance for him to get it right, and he takes it with both hands, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in so his forehead is against hers, “So much.” 

She smiles and stamps her lips against his, the kiss turning fiercer as she shifts her hand from his cheek to the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. They get momentarily lost in each other, in this moment that they once both thought they’d never have, and they let themselves enjoy it. Each of them aware this was the last ‘first’ I love you they’d ever have. 

They pull away when the need for air becomes too much and she smiles, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries and fails to contain it. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “I should have just spoken to you about it instead of being an idiot.” 

She shrugs and leans in to kiss him again, “It’s okay, we’ll just take it in turns being idiots,” she says, her smile wry, “It will be my turn when you ask me to move in with you and I freak out for one reason or another and you’ll have to be the sensible one.” 

He laughs, his normal, full-bodied one that never failed to make her heart sing, and he nods, “It’s a date.” 

She rests her forehead against his and sighs contentedly, enjoying every possible second of this moment, of the peace and joy she spent the last several years thinking she’d never have. 

“Do you think they are still out there?” She asks quietly, her eyes flicking towards the door, and he smiles. 

He opens his mouth to reply but is cut off by a voice coming through the door.  

“Yes, we are.” Dave says, an edge of amusement to his voice, “And you two better come out here and explain yourselves.” 

Emily groans and presses her forehead into his shoulder, “Do you think if we ignore them they’ll go away?” 

“I wouldn’t bet on it, sweetheart,” he says, kissing the top of her head. 

“Don’t make me call Pen to unlock your door remotely,” JJ threatens and Emily rolls her eyes even though her friend can’t see her, “We both know she’d do it.” 

“We’d better go face the music,” Aaron says as he stands up, offering her his hand and winking as she takes it, pulling her upwards so she’s standing next to him. 

“Together?” She asks, wrapping her hand around his, smiling as he squeezes it and nods. 

“Together.” 

-x-

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[toasttt11]

wrong

January 7, 2025

Will let out a long breath as the call didn’t go through to Kensington once again, they have barley talked the last few months and when they do actually talk both of them are so busy there’s barely any time to talk and Kensington has been off lately seemingly distance.

Will hated how he didn’t know what was wrong with his girlfriend and he hated how he wasn’t sure what to do to make everything better.

Will has been itching to just get on a flight and show up at her door and finally see her in person but he was to afraid with the chance if they see each other and Kensington breaks up with him.

He didn’t even think she loved him anymore and was to nice to break up with him.

January 10, 2025

Will walked to his apartment door and saw the mailman, “Will Smith?” The guy asked and Will nodded and the guy handed him two box’s.

Will smiled at the guy and shut the door brining the boxes to the kitchen and grabbed a knife and started opening the rectangle box first.

Will saw was marigolds, Kensington’s favorite flower, he gently took out the very large bouquet of flowers and smiled softly.

Will gently set them onto the counter and opened the other box and saw it was pretty stuffed, he first pulled out a pile of clothing items, he first saw another Kensington jersey in the color he doesn’t have yet, and a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt that smelled like her perfume, he set them onto the counter.

He pulled out the next little bag and saw the bag was filled with all of his favorite candies.

Will pulled out the next thing and it was a frame of Kensington and him during the summer both of them smiling brightly at the camera and Kensington all wrapped up in his arms, Will gently traced his beautiful girls face before gently setting it onto the counter.

Will smiled softly seeing a new jelly cat and it was a blue bunny and he noticed the white ribbon tied on the ears as little bows and he knew Kensington did that.

He picked up the card at the bottom.

Happy Anniversary Will!

I miss you and i love you lots

-Your Gray <3

Will felt his stomach drop as he realized what this was all for their one year anniversary. that was today.

“Shit.” Will cursed running a hand in his hair he can’t believe he forgot and his girlfriend who he thought didn’t love him anymore did not forget. Will knew he was wrong and he was an idiot for thinking that Kensington didn’t love him any longer.

[woncon]

[08:08 pm] ♡ yeonjun

gn!reader | crack and suggestive | mentions of sex | the future makes the reader scared | made with @wonsheep's help <3

‣ txt masterlist :: ✉️₍₁₎

in the dim hotel room, with only silhouettes visible, orange rectangles melt on the walls as the weary sun descends lower and lower on its celestial path and the sky turns a gloomy grey.

you slip out from under the blanket, which squeaks softly. this sound is part of the idyll of the hotel. it is as firm and unchanging a part of it as your heart is a part of yeonjun.

"where are you going?" asks the guy you just made love with, leaning towards you with languid honesty.

"i'm running away."

"from me?"

"no. from tomorrow."

unnoticed, yeonjun flashes a relieved smile as he grabs his lover's waist, pulling you back to where you belong.

"you know, in my opinion, tomorrow is nothing more than a scare for small children. like a bogeyman in the closet." you sit back, and the boy hugs your shoulder, his arm is pleasantly warm, his heartbeat still andalating.

"but there is a bogeyman in the closet. tomorrow itself."

"there is no bogeyman, no tomorrow, just you and me. two naked young people who have just banged."

"you're very poetic, junie," you murmur, smiling. 

"oh, sorry, we've just created the endless waterfall of our love."

"and that’s too wet."

"i'm good at making things wet." this time a wicked grin creeps across his face, the outline of which you can sense. 

"you almost knocked the lamp over, and that was almost sexy. but this is just embarrassing," you grimace.

"i adore you."

"doesn’t help."

"it always helps." he strokes your cheek sensually, mesmerized, lingering on the soft skin long enough for you to share your question full of doubts.

"junie... will you still love me when i'm old? when tomorrow comes?"

"i'll kiss every wrinkle with love. i'm not afraid of the non-existed tomorrow. i'm only afraid that you'll slap me on the arm, as usual, if i ask you if there can be a third round."

"beat it."

"i don't think it's gonna help when you're this close..."

"no, you idiot! beat tomorrow out of my head." you press a confused kiss on the boy's lips, then bury your head in his neck. "i adore you too. and if you promise not to let tomorrow strike us on this bed, you can keep me here forever."

yeonjun hugs you back, and in that moment there really is nothing but you, the room, the orange rectangle in the dim light. tomorrow doesn't exist in this moment.

[desire-mona]

dps boys hcs! this has been requested of me! lets make it modern bc thatll be fun

- todd absolutely DESPISES "booktok" and its addiction to smut. can go on a VERY long rant abt how only reading things with sex scenes is, in fact, a porn addiction.

- knox has tried on many occasions to become an influencer, failing every single time and blaming it on the algorithm or whaver

- neil, type of mother fucker to not be on social media like at all. has one private instagram that he posts on maybe twice a year, and has a tiktok only to watch the videos todd intermittently sends him.

- ^^^ followed immediately by a text saying "i sent you a tiktok go look at it" which always sparks a mini argument about whether or not its easier to just save the video and text it to him. goes nowhere every time.

- meeks has fashion taste that makes him look insufferable, band tee's and the worst jeans you ever did see, exclusively. also modern meeks would have clear glasses frames.

- saw someone say charlie would vape, id like to add to that. has a COLLECTION of elf bars, its vast, its colourful, it's annoying, it's turning his coughs wet.

- pitts was a fast fashion guy for a total of 6 months before finding out all the shit about how unethical the industry is. didnt get rid of any of those clothes bc thats wasteful but he IS fighting for his life whenever anyone looks at his wardrobe.

- cameron is a BIG analog horror fan, local 58, walten files, fnaf tapes, thats his jam. can we popularise cam being a big horror fan in general bc im so attached to that hc. horror cam i love u.

- all the boys have a life360 circle (enforced by cam and pitts due to charlie's horrendous reckless driving) and todd CONSTANTLY needs to be yelled at the charge his phone.

- neil's phone is ANCIENT, had the same one for nearly a decade, and its evident. has a bigass crack right down the middle, the back is shattered and held together with tape, a phone case, and a dream. theres marks from shit burning into the screen, most notably a rectangle in the bottom corner from the billions of facetime calls with todd that ultimately set his phone on fire every time.

- todd is secretly a grade A yapper but ONLY in digital form. his online presence is VAST, but impressively anonymous. has a very active substack, letterboxd, poetry tumblr, and even started his own blog. no, not a tumblr blog, a blog blog.

- charlie's car is decked out in the most idiotic add ons that you can think of. comically large mirror dice, a bumper sticker that says "honk if you want me bad", stupid car door lights that project a photo of jimmy fallon onto the ground when u open them, the whole 9 yards. took neil, pitts, and cameron 20 minutes to talk him out of getting flame decals (as a bit.)

- knox refuses to play any other videogame besides GTA, which he plays concerningly often. if ur having trouble reaching him then odds are hes on GTA. its the only hobby of his that his parents know about. christmas is tough for the overstreets.

- meeks is well aware of his general ☝️🤓 demeanour so he started making jokes about it before anyone else can. any time he says anything remotely smart sounding then he MUST do the voice and put up a finger. it became a force of habit and he did it while talking to a teacher once, he left the room mortified.

- pittsie lives on spotify, he has a playlist for every possible emotion, over 3k liked songs, and 200k+ minutes listened when wrapped season rolls around. additionally he does every spotify stat game available, and forced the boys to download a spotify activity widget thing. (WHAT DO YALL KNOW ABT AIRBUDS ‼️‼️ add me @ monahatesya xoxo)

- cam loves to make jokes about DARE and the "this is ur brain on drugs" ads but he is, in fact, the main demographic of said ads. said this before, saying it now, will most definitely say it again, he is beyond susceptible to peer pressure. marijuana isnt a gateway drug for everyone but it certainly is for him.

bonus! chris and keating! just for you!

- chris is avoiding the lesbian masterdoc purely out of fear. not out of fear of being gay, but out of fear of the sheer amount of subsequent other things she'll likely also have to find out about herself.

- keating spends an inordinate amount of time on youtube, which nobody actually expects. big video essay fan, imagine the shock from the boys when he pulls up youtube for a lesson and he's halfway thru the 4 hour iBinged iCarly video. was previously a james somerton fan but considering... the james somerton part.. hes now a defunctland loyalist.

[afreakingdork]

Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 2

RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra

The first date commences in this week's chapter art by @koto15

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Revenge, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Dating, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Love Confessions, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Step-Parents, Neglect, First Kiss, First Generation Immigrant Kids, Acculturation, Loss/Removal of Cultural Identity, Prison Time

Synopsis: After hitting the lowest of lows, Kendra has carved out a simple life for herself. She’s content enough to live this way until opportunity walks through her place of employment in the form of an orange turtle mutant. She just needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected long the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 🧡

Kendra pulled down her skirt for what had to be the hundredth time. The stupid thing was way too short, but she supposed that was the point. She’d let the sales girl talk her into whatever worked for a ‘hot date.’ They weren’t words Kendra would use to describe the affair, but the sales person seemed knowledgeable enough. In the time she’d been in the store, Kendra had watched a handful of overly chic women walk in wearing glaring ensembles. They asked this girl in particular for help, which was what had prompted Kendra to approach her even though most of these tags read ten times her monthly allowance for frivolity.

Which meant she walked out with this aggravating hemline.

Michelangelo or whatever his name was was going to pay.

In full.

For everything.

If she pulled even the insinuation of Dutch then she was going to deck him. 

She yanked again and tried to remember to temper herself.

She had to get through this date without ruining the stupid dress. As ludicrous as it sounded, her armor for the evening was a clingy rectangle with noodles for straps. It was supposed to be evocative because she needed it to be. Her goal was to seduce this wannabe renaissance man and get into his home. The quicker she could do that the better because it meant wasting less of her time. If it meant she had to parade around in some flashy getup then so be it. Men were exactly the type of idiots to fall for and drool over something so obviously lascivious.

He would need to keep that saliva in his mouth because this stupid strip of cloth was getting returned to the store first thing tomorrow.

It wasn’t like she had room for a handkerchief to wipe up either. She hadn’t been able to tote much because of her slinky garb. Her normal bag clashed clunky with this stylish fit so she’d been forced to set her entire evening on the straps of a spindly handbag. Her limited inventory meant she had to prioritize essentials. She settled for a downsized version of her wallet, her phone, a miniature can of pepper spray, and a thumb drive containing a computer virus capable of taking down a Fortune 500 company.

It was a regular girl’s Friday night delight.

Much like the headache of her outfit, she similarly hadn’t had much room for preparation and it wasn’t for lack of time. When it came to planning she had all the time in the world if she had wanted it. Michelangelo had been surprisingly courteous, if not too eager. While her phone had been stowed to charge the day of meeting him, he had apparently texted her the moment he left the coffee shop. It had irked her, but he excused himself in his excitement. He then left most of the decisions of the date up to her outside the location. At the time, that had seemed fine enough as she chalked his insistence up to some sort of machismo. He’d then pelted her with ice breaker messages that she’d ignored, because what point was there in getting to know each other when they had a date?

The when of which she had decided with the mentality of ‘the sooner, the better.’

She selected a date a week away. 

He said that worked. 

She thought the matter was done. 

She hadn’t needed to look at her phone any more than that. 

What she should have done was look up the restaurant in that ‘sooner.’

The ‘better’ was that the damn place was award winning.

She had only checked a few days before so she could plan her trip. Instead she was met with a ludicrous line of dollar signs indicating price range and the exclusivity raved about in multiple food articles.

Not that those were real publications.

It was in a cold sweat that she saw the rantings about reservations and the depth of her folly. There wasn’t a stitch of her wardrobe that was up to par for such a place. She was not going to be made a fool by some oaf who thought he could pull off orange. She had dove into research and did the best she could with her digital checkbook. She managed it all by only having to trade off a single choice: her ensemble or her hair.

They were both temporary in a sense, but one was worth more. The dress could be returned. The dress was for one night and her hair was everything. The maintenance of keeping it colored was killing her, but it made her feel whole. If she was going to get it done, then she needed to do it right. She wasn’t going to settle for some root touch-up that chanced mismatched color.

So she chose the dress.

The dress made more sense.

The dress would get her farther in seducing an idiot.

The dress was camouflage so she could blend in with Michelin stars.

The dress wasn’t what onlookers needed to glance at to confirm that it was her; this was Kendra.

She just hoped her updo hid her roots enough.

She assumed it would since the line of her skirt was basically synonymous with her crotch. She had seen herself in a mirror and she looked like she was plucked from the 90s. People would whisper about what current pop idol she was and she guessed that was a version of a vision that could be advantageous. Her hair would be purposeful then and since it was, she could accept that judgment.

Everything she’d done after purchasing the dress had been in service of it. Her make-up practice led her to a subdued look in contrast. The dress was the standout and she wanted eyes on that and her body. It was what made this transaction easiest. Sure, she could capture a man’s heart, but what was that in comparison to crushing this turtle’s soul?

She was getting ahead of herself and swallowed down excited drool. It had been a little too long since she’d gone through the thorough motions of planning destruction. She needed to keep a level head, especially after the poor showing of their first meeting. She couldn’t chance him getting under her skin, just as she couldn’t risk him knowing her home address. She needed to disappear after she planted the virus and it was bad enough he knew where she worked whether he remembered or not. The further she kept this Michelangelo person from her neighborhood the better.

It meant she had to take public transit and walk to the restaurant, but she’d dealt with worse. She felt in control as she clicked down the street in her stolen heels. She couldn’t remember what fiasco she had acquired them in, but she remembered there had been some sort of fight. Kendra had stolen this box of shoes on principle and they had ended up fitting. They were obviously knock-offs, but they gave her height and prowess to her strides.

She spied Michelangelo before he saw her.

That was good.

She had the element of surprise.

She clacked with purpose and re-shouldered the spaghetti strap of her bag. That shop girl had suggested a puffy shawl. At the time it seemed like a nuisance, something like a duster on dying starlets. Only now did Kendra wish she had splurged on that too. She could have let it roll from her shoulders for a tasteful exposure and completed her alluring image.

That was if Michelangelo would lift his dumb head. She had no idea how he was ignoring the beating of her pumps. His hair was cleanly coiffed and he didn’t look like he had headphones in. He looked like he was just staring at his damn phone. She felt her bag vibrate.

She hated him.

Only he would look for her when she was right next to him. She stomped hard on a metal grate and he jarred to attention. That was better and she set her sights on him. He looked toward her without seeing her for a moment before she watched his eyes widen. She expected to be jaw dropping, but it was the shine of his ridiculous bug eyes that threw her off guard. He acted like he’d never seen a woman before.

He probably hadn’t.

Didn’t they live in the sewers or somewhere equally repulsive?

She wished she remembered.

She wished she had her laptop data from back then.

It had all been confiscated.

It was a mark of her loss and with Michelangelo in front of her, he was the mark of what was to be gained.

“Michelangelo.” If she said his name enough times she might temporarily remember.

“Kendra!” He didn’t seem to know what to do with the phone in his hands. “Hey, I was just-”

She cocked a hip to wait for some oblivious drivel to pour from his mouth.

“I guess I was worried you might not show.” He decided.

She lost a little composure, but she held strong. “Why would you think that?”

“You haven’t responded…” He waved his darkened screen. “… to anything that I’ve sent you since we made the date!”

“We made the date, what more was there to say?” She tried to tip her head coolly.

His brow line shifted both incredulous and impressed.

“You can get it out of the way now. Say I saved it so we have something to talk about.” She gave a metered tilt of her skull to read bored. 

He didn’t catch it. “You look…”

She shifted her weight to her other hip so he could appraise her as he pleased.

He should count himself lucky, she thought.

He only gave her outfit a glance. “You look uncomfortable.”

“Excuse me?” She felt her bag strap slip off her shoulder.

“Oh, want me-?” He reached out on some sort of reflex.

She moved to dodge him. “I’ve got it! It’s fine!”

With an annoyed hoist she got the skimpy thing back in place.

The bag couldn’t even hold its own weight while stuffed.

“I wasn’t trying to be mean! It’s just…” He struggled.

She glared him down.

He percolated with some sweat which meant he had a bare level sense of how much he was blowing this interaction. “I don’t know, is that dress new?”

“Why would it be?” She scoffed without the sound to save spittle for later.

He would choose his next words carefully or she’d spit in his food.

Imagining it helped take the edge off her current rage.

“Well…” He rolled on the heels of his loafers.

While she waited, she took him in. He had well trimmed slacks, if not cut a bit short as he was showing ankle. He then paired a fine jacket of orange flowers with black lapels without its buttons done over a flowy white top. It suited him in the same way it did on someone who wanted to fake some nuisanced airs.

“It’s not weird to get new clothes for a date. I just got these shoes actually-”

“Yeah, sure.” She held out a hand to stop him. “So, this place takes reservations.”

He made a little confused noise.

She glanced at the ornate building they were outside. “Some months in advance. We met a week ago. What’s up with you getting in? You have a standing reservation for dates or something?”

He laughed and was all smiles. “I happen to know the chef.”

Everything she learned about him cemented that faux grandiose image. “Of course you do.”

“You look nice, by the way.” He swept an arm for her to go first.

“Little late for a save.” She clicked past him.

“It’s not a save if that’s the look you wanted to go for. I just said the first thing that popped into my mind!”

“No! Really?!” She shot him a sarcastic dart. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He chewed on an obvious laugh and didn’t get the door.

He didn’t know the first thing about dates.

This was going to be a long night.

She scowled and reached for a handle only to see the loom of a man inside.

She flinched backwards with a little too much surprise as the finely dressed gentlemen appeared in a bow. “Allow me.”

“Thanks…” She sneered and moved to slip in with Michelangelo trailing her.

Another in what Kendra imagined was going to be a long line of black and white starched peons addressed them at a podium. “Welcome to Streetwise Morning. Do you have a reservation?”

Kendra had to bite her cheek to keep from complaining about how this dinner place had the wrong time of day in their title.

“Hamato.” Michelangelo was right behind her.

What name was that?

She turned her confusion on him and he only smiled ahead toward the staff.

She soured further as he ignored her.

“Of course, Mr. Hamato, welcome!”

Did turtles have surnames?

“Right this way…” The host made mention of a sommelier and other ridiculous garbage as he led through the packed floor.

It was like clocking stooges as Kendra watched. She saw numbers ding with jewelry pricked in ears or dangling from wrists. Old and loaded bodies sat at tables where they stuffed themselves with portions that were too small. It was endless decadence in gag-worthy form. It only served to feed the ouroboros of privilege and attempted to take her appetite.

No, she was going to order one of everything.

She was going to eat her actual fill and take leftovers regardless of what foil swan policy this hoity toity place had.

She barely realized she had plopped down into an offered seat until she found herself sitting across from Michelangelo.

“Last names.” He started as soon as he saw her eyes. “Mighta been something we could have mentioned before. It’s not really dinner talk. You usually find that out pre-date.”

Was he making fun of her?

She was going to raze the ground with his corpse.

“Sorry.” She moved to remove her bag and noticed she had nowhere to stow it. “Should I have given you my social security number!?”

“I guess I’m confused!” He continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals.”

“You are?!” She hissed at the same moment a menu was shoved in her face.

She turned pure ire on a random man who offered her a selection of wines.

“How am I supposed to pick before the meal!?” She seethed at him.

“Course pairing.” Michelangelo not so helpfully offered.

“Of course, sir, ma’am.” The man bowed his head and left.

“Ridiculous! What’s even the point of that?!” Kendra waved her purse.

Michelangelo took a cloth napkin and unfurled it in a snap before offering it over. “You can put it in your lap with this over it or behind you in the seat.”

“I have my own napkin! I’m not a toddler!” She bellowed to a few other diners’ glances.

Humiliation hit her like a truck.

Michelangelo was staring.

More people were looking.

They all saw her jailed.

Trapped, she mentally corrected and shoved her dinky purse into her lap.

Instead of making a flashy gesture like waving white cloth. She instead glowered down as she unfolded her own napkin to delicately cover her belongings and the abysmal length of her dress, if she could even call it that. Her bare ass and underwear were basically on the seat and she almost wished she had another napkin to save the back of her thighs from burning through the thousand dollar chair. 

“It’s all bullshit.”

It wasn’t like she was surprised.

She only slowly looked up when she was done with her covering.

Michelangelo had a sympathetic look.

What did he know?

“What?” She ground out.

“I wanted to make a good impression, but I’m only making you more uncomfortable.”

“This isn’t-!”

He held up a hand. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not going to pretend to. You asked me out, but you don’t really seem like you want to talk to me. Sure. Maybe you wanted a story, maybe it was a bet. That’s okay too.”

She studied him.

“I just thought a nice meal fit you. You looked like you deserved it.”

She hadn’t thought of it like that.

She thought herself above all this crap.

Deserve?

Who was he to decide?

She parted her lips, but yet another new person appeared, this time with more menus. She took hers with more grace and looked over the single printed page. There were barely 10 items total and it made a mockery of the coffee shop’s chalkboard. If she wanted to order it all then she would speak for a few seconds tops. The longer she looked, she began to notice there wasn’t any other way to order. 

The whole set was served in courses and her only choice was preference of proteins. 

“Hey, last name Hamato.” She called without looking up.

“Yeah, last name unknown?” He didn’t hold an ounce of ire even though his words said differently.

“Byerly.” She always liked the way her name cut her teeth. “Do you know what’s good since your buddy cooks?”

The server who was still waiting seemed offended.

Michelangelo smiled brightly. “It’ll depend night to night, but from what I heard at the farmer’s market, cauliflower is plentiful and in season.”

“Steak set or whatever.” Kendra told the waiter. “You better be right.”

He answered by speaking to the employee. “I’ll have the same, thanks.”

The man bowed his head, took the menus, and departed.

“Ms. Byerly.”

She shot him a lazy glance.

“I’ve done silent meals. I’m immune to the awkwardness. I can talk to myself the whole time, but I’d rather give you the choice.”

“If I wanted an out I would have already left. Your manners suck.”

“Me?” He threw his weight back in his chair and chuckled. “Please! I’m begging you to tell me if you really want me or something else!”

“Why do you keep asking that?” She clicked her tongue.

“Because you haven’t denied it!” He shot right back forward, but then a flighty thought seemed to catch him. “Well you kinda did like once, but more so you keep asking rhetorical questions! I can’t get a read off that!”

“So you need a read on me?” She was going to ruin her lipstick if this kept up.

Michelangelo looked toward the ceiling and then back in what she thought was disdain, but there was excitement pouring off of him as he descended.

She made a single disgruntled sound and felt that her vision of his perversion was showing on her face.

“You drive me insane!”

Her face twisted up in revulsion.

He felt that he was grinning too wide and covered his mouth with a hand. “Okay, okay. Let me…!”

She heard a rumbling sound and moved to peek under the tablecloth.

Michelangelo was pounding his feet as if running off excess energy.

He was a mouse on a wheel in her eyes and she leveled with him for the vermin he was.

He blew out one sharp breath before taking the table. “The whole mean girl thing, it’s not really my thing. They’re my least favorite archetype in movies or shows unless they have like a reason to be and it can’t be the whole rich dad is ignoring them so they act out pampered princess style. Parental neglect is no joke. It needs to be something real and they’ve gotta get a cool redemption arc. Bonus points if they are humbled by their down to earth opposite.”

Her lids fell unenthused. “So you go through all that convoluted nonsense to lie?”

“Not a lie.” He was grinning again and there was that infuriating gap in his teeth. “Because I don’t think that’s you! You’re not the mean girl!”

Her eyes were going to roll back into her head, never to be seen again. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You’re way off base, you-!”

“I don’t think I am.”

He was so sure of himself she wasn’t sure how else to belittle him.

“I think you have a reflex to be and maybe you were in the past. There’s always someone who’s got to play the high school bully, but can I be honest?”

“You said you weren’t lying.” She spoke bitters as a plate with a single morsel of food was placed in front of her.

“I think you’re refreshing.” Michelangelo picked up a utensil and she mirrored him as she now realized there were far more than she accounted for.

“Like cucumber salad?” She said dryly and took that bite.

“You’re way too spicy for that.”

“Spicy and refreshing? Not really a thing.” It tasted alright.

“Wrong. Jeow bong and like a million Korean pickle dishes.”

She only flicked her eyes to tell him she didn’t know what that was.

“It’s a Lao dish, never mind.” He waved it off. “The point is. You’re honest to a fault.”

She opened her mouth to hit him with a question about what he was up to, but she heard a ghost of him in her ears about rhetorical questions.

He sat nearly smarmy across from her as he read her mind.

She shot him a warning shot glare.

He took it with growing interest.

She had no idea how to handle him.

She couldn’t believe this man of all people pushed her out of her depth.

Just who was he?

“Like me.” He settled on the small phrase and the plates were switched out. “Or so I’m told.” 

She got something with bread and different colored dots that she guessed were different sauces. She hadn’t really read the menu. Michelangelo took this one with his hands so she did the same and tore off small pieces of bread in an attempt to try each of the colored blobs. As the color darkened, there was more flavor. She guessed that was interesting at the very least.

She was still hungry.

“So, what? You were a bully too?” She spoke as she chewed.

“Nah. I didn’t go to school.”

She nodded as he was about her age when mutants became apparent.

“I do have three older brothers though. So, not bullying but ribbing? Teasing? It’s a whole thing.”

“Huh.”

“Isn’t important, but you’d get it if you had siblings and I want to ask if you have any, but I’m trying to get to the point before course three.”

“Doubt you’ll make it.” She saw waiters swimming in her periphery like sharks.

“Right?! Portions at fancy places suck!” He laughed.

For once it didn’t sound grating.

“Ugh, they have these spoon dishes sometimes. It’s supposed to be a themed thing where you get everything in one bite. Those drive me nuts. Like I get it. It’s artistry, but it’s also like food should nourish the soul!”

She supposed she agreed and her plate disappeared from in front of her.

“Wait, what am I saying?!” He turned away for a testy noise.

She reviewed his admonishment with some interest.

“Distracted. Always distracted.” He berated himself and looked back at her. “We could be alike, we might not be, but that’s not what I was trying to say.”

A wine glass was poured and she sipped it before the next course arrived.

“You’re refreshing because who’s done what you did? You asked me out, but then you acted like you wanted nothing to do with me, but you show up here in your new dress and your hair looks so nice and your makeup is perfect and there’s clearly so much thought into how you present yourself and I love that and I also don’t depending on why, but all that shows is how much I don’t know and how much I want to.”

She slowed with the glass still to her lips.

“And yeah, I should have opened with a compliment and you were right to be upset about that and I want you to be upset about that. I think you should call me out. I’m not a masochist, but I wish more people would call me out. I want things to be good, but I also want to know when they aren’t. Like yeah, I’m a guy who believes in communication and the heart, but also how would that have gone if I had said you looked pretty right out the gate? Would you have even cared? We would have done all the usual date stuff and for what?! So we could hit date three and kiss, but we’re both thinking of how to get out of there because we aren’t bad, but we aren’t good. It’s all surface level, but why quit if it’s not actually bad?!”

She put her glass down at the same time a meat portion was placed in front of her.

It wasn’t a miniscule medallion.

It could have been bigger.

It was at least better.

She mumbled out a thank you to the waiter this time.

He was one of a dozen faces she would never see again, but she did it.

“You’re talking in circles.” She spoke pointedly and moved to grab what was clearly a steak knife. “You sound like that guy from ‘When Harry Met Sally.’ You talk until your point sounds like it’s made.”

She didn’t know which fork to pair it with and when she checked with him she found him staring at her with shining eyes and a partially dropped jaw. “You’ve watched When Harry Met Sally.’” 

Her nose wriggled as she was put off by the awe in his tone.

It was just a movie. 

He was being overly dramatic. 

He telegraphed which fork to grab. 

He had known all along.

She frowned.

“I love that movie…” He tucked his smile into his meat and sliced. “I love Gone With the Wind! They don’t even end up together! I love when the characters are from different worlds! I love romances that are real.”

“Real? What does that even mean?” She almost laughed and took a bite.

She momentarily melted.

He soaked her expression in.

She fought it.

He looked away for her sake.

She fought that too.

She shoved another bite in her mouth out of spite.

“Real like, Sally wouldn’t have even remembered Harry if he hadn’t been an asshole.”

“Sure, she remembered.”

Michelangelo nodded as he chewed.

“But he forgot.” She dotted off her point.

“But he forgot!” His eyes crinkled when he smiled.

She felt affronted by the knowledge.

She felt like there was something else there.

She didn’t know what, but she didn’t like it.

“If… that’s what the ‘asshole’ led you to believe.” He chuckled as he swallowed.

“He did not remember!”

“He says he did!”

“Yeah, after twenty questions.”

“So he can’t place her face. He knows there was something! That’s a spark.”

“So it’s love at first sight?” She gagged.

“Ew! No! That doesn’t exist anyway.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot I was with Mr. Real Rom Coms.”

Michelangelo held his head up with pride.

“Which still isn’t a thing.”

“It totally is! Just because it’s movie magic doesn’t mean it can’t capture that magic sometimes!”

“But not love at first sight. Then what’s the spark then, huh?” She mourned as she cut her last morsel. “How do they know?” 

“The interest! The intrigue! You gotta start somewhere.”

“That’s not love.”

“It can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t know a thing about them.”

“But you want to know me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you saw some spark?”

“Maybe I did.”

“You don’t know?”

“You have to let me find out.” Michelangelo finished his meal and turned on her as if this whole conversation had been his point.

Her mouth snapped shut and she cycled through what insults she could fling without getting them thrown out.

“Mr. Hamato.”

A man manifested and both Michelangelo and Kendra turned on him.

He was mostly unfazed, but one of his brows craned upward. “The chef requests your attendance between entremets.”

Kendra lit with fury. 

Just when she could finally stand a conversation with her dinner partner, he moved to yet again undermine the affair. 

If this was his idea of a surprise then he better have gotten a gift receipt. 

“Joel?” Michelangelo asked with obvious confusion.

She bore holes into his head in an attempt to suss out why he didn’t know what he must have planned. 

“Chef Fields. That’s right. If you’ll follow me.” The man moved to get Kendra’s chair.

She never once stopped examining Michelangelo.

There had to be a tell.

This was another pomp to his circumstance.

He had to have planned this.

Meeting the chef. 

He had bragged that this Fields person was his friend. 

She had gotten caught up in his stupid conversation.

She forgot what he was.

He was some jackass trying to impress her with a nice meal.

Something he decided she deserved.

She was supposed to be running this show.

Not chasing after him.

They were sent through double doors where someone was shouting things to a busy kitchen staff.

It was ordered chaos.

A man used tweezers to place something and popped up to adjust his glasses. “Mikey!”

“J-Joel…!” Michelangelo was caught in a bear hug.

He had yet to crack.

Was the stupidity he put on another ruse?

That made him dangerous.

Now felt like the safest time to bail. 

“And this must be your lovely date!” The chef turned on her before she could flee.

“Hi, I guess.” She managed something polite enough.

“Welcome! Do you know how special you are? Mikey never pulls his favors.”

“Uh…” She searched her supposed date again.

A dish moved behind the chef and he turned his back to catch something off with it. 

The moment is back turned, Mikey pled to her with every fiber of his being.

That didn’t seem right.

Did he seriously expect her to believe this wasn’t a part of his wooing shit show?

“Well-!” The chef turned with an arm out and slapped Michelangelo on the back. “I’ll tell you that he never does, has the memory of a gnat! This guy wouldn’t remember what his favorite color was if he didn’t wear it all the time!”

“Ha! Ha! Sure, Joel!” Mikey barked with fake pops of laughter. “Now, we were enjoying that meal you promised so if we could-”

“This guy! We go way back! Not like culinary school, though Mikey snuck in to a ton of those, but there was this period where Mikey was getting into these food circles. I don’t know how he did it, but he always had a guy and that guy was like my meat guy or my supply company guy and I kept wondering who this mutant foodie everyone was talking about was. Then, poof, he gets invited to my friends and family!”

Kendra was sure she made some sort of noise.

Michelangelo was distracting her with a weepy face every chance he could.

“So if the guy who knows everybody, but forgets all his favors suddenly pulls one for a date, it has to be special! I had to see you and look at you!” The chef stepped towards her oozing intent.

Kendra was ready to dodge; her arm was coming up.

Michelangelo moved in a blink of an eye and put himself between the chef and her. “Joel! I know you’re workshopping something! You always are! What’s got that big brain of yours stumped?”

The chef stalled only for a moment before he cracked a smile. “There’s my idea guy!”

He clapped Michelangelo again and, this time, she didn’t miss how her date winced for a split second.

She followed after like a hawk as the chef stormed through the kitchen to a quieter table and dismissed someone with only a bitter glance.

The whole kitchen structure reorganized from the show of strength, but the ire for it was palpable.

This man was not respected.

He was feared.

Kendra would have appreciated that in most circumstances, but as of current she felt like they were being held hostage.

She didn’t appreciate being an arm candy afterthought.

“The sea!” The chef sounded manic as he ran to gather things.

The others were again forced to bend to his whims as he opened fridges and caught pans without much more than a microscopic, “Behind.”

Kendra slunk closer to Michelangelo and he sent her more of those sad faces.

She sent him one in return that told him to buck up.

He blinked at the expression once before turning forward to address the chef.

Said man was now poured over two garish white porcelain spoons that were filled with a menagerie of pastes that looked like spit-up hacked onto a third grader’s art project.

In a spoon. 

A single-bite.

Michelangelo had mentioned this.

Again, Kendra wondered if it was on purpose.

The chef was still plating.

Michelangelo was free to express.

What was on his face was growing dread.

This wasn’t planned.

Not the summons.

Not him mentioning hating this dish.

What was happening now was pure karma meant to bite the turtle on the ass.

Kendra fought cackling right there and then only because the chef rose with an undeniable pride that she wanted to squash even more.

“Voila. This is inspired by a trip I took to the sea when I was a kid. I was mesmerized and went out so far that I was overcome by this huge wave. I almost drowned, but I saved myself. My parents were just gone. I will never forget that briney taste in my mouth and the way the sand melted between my fingers as I crawled on shore. I got back to my beach towel and downed this bag of cold Doritos from our cooler. I like to think they saved me. Ever since I’ve been trying to recreate that memory. The one that shows you Poseidon’s might. The sea is not to be trifled with! She is fruitful, but she is merciless. This dish is meant to encapsulate that, but I’m still missing something. So, please.”

The chef bowed his head in offer.

Michelangelo flapped his hand by his side to work up courage.

“Both of you.” The chef took a hard stance that said they were both going to eat if they wanted to escape. 

She hated that.

She hated him.

She hated his dish.

She hated how Michelangelo, who had just been spouting how he wanted authenticity, was now cowering in the face of it.

She snatched the spoon.

The chef rushed to blurt out something about how to let it rest on her taste buds.

Who gave a fuck?

She chomped down hard enough that the porcelain whined under her teeth.

She’d snap the damn thing off and eat it for fiber.

Had she not immediately gagged.

Ocean was right.

All that she had eaten was salt and brine.

She pulled the spoon out so fast that some salvia from the overbearing salinity flew with it.

It sprinkled a tidy splatter across the stainless steel counter.

“You call that the sea!?” She hacked and saw a weird plastic container full of water just off to the side.

She grabbed it and saw someone’s name on it, but popped the top off regardless.

She chugged and heard some kitchen member mumbling weakly about their drink.

“Try something that isn’t the Atlantic for once! Taste of the ocean’s ass is more like!”

The chef’s head rolled back.

Michelagenlo caught his spoon and gulped it down with the same vigor only he didn’t tug the utensil out.

He outright shivered and shriveled up before giving a dry cough around a white clink. “Joel, what…?”

The chef’s mouth gaped like a fish.

“What’s missing is the point!” Michelangelo recovered and took the container that Kendra passed him to swallow the rest. “You’re showing the sea’s might alright! But why? You were hurt so you want to hurt your diners? Is there like a follow-up course? Something to make this palatable? What’s the point otherwise!? That no good came from the ocean!?”

“Follow-up…” The chef dropped his stunned exterior for what he seemed to think was deep analytical thought. “Of course! The Doritos!”

“Yeah, man. Doritos, whatever.” Mikey’s tongue was out and he seemed to be looking for something to wipe it with. 

The chef launched himself at the obviously unsuspecting turtle. 

It was Kendra’s turn to intercept.

She caught the man by the jowls. “Hands off, he’s mine.”

Michelangelo made a peep behind her and she rolled her eyes.

“At least until I decide what to do with him so knock it off with the touchy feelings and get to condensing cheese powders or whatever it is you do here.”

The chef stared at her until he laughed.

Some awkward parting conversation was had and they were allowed to resume their meal. As they were led back to their table, Michelangelo covertly passed on that he was absolutely going to forget this place on purpose going forward. Kendra gave him an appreciatory nod for his activism. He ate it up with intensity that he aimed at her for the rest of the meal.

She allowed it.

Three more courses and a dessert came that they ended up swapping because Michelangelo got more berries and she wanted them. She let him have his ice breakers. She wasn’t overly giving in the conversation, but she allowed him a small glimpse.

Small things.

How the Citipati was her favorite dinosaur.

Not because her mother led her to believe they were ancestors to turkeys when she was little.

How she disliked Strawberry Fanta.

Not how she was glad when her dad still bought it for her because it had been her favorite as a kid.

How her guilty pleasure was those blind date shows.

Not because she liked looking up how they predictably broke up right after.

She learned about him too.

She found out he didn’t blow as much hot air as she thought.

He studied culinary arts and had some degree to show for it.

He studied physical art and had a certificate of the same. 

He studied a lot of things.

He had a base level knowledge of over a dozen skills.

He wasn’t stupid.

He spread his stats too thin.

It made him incompetent in everything he did because of it. 

To what end?

There was no reason. 

Not to the date.

Not to any of this.

It was a lingering thought as they stepped out into the cool night air and she was given a grossly informal looking container compared to the restaurant that served it. It was full of specifically bread along with a more formal looking tub that held the dot sauced she had liked the most 

She didn’t remember Michelangelo acquiring it, but she knew he had since he was the one to give it to her.

“So that was a bust.” He spoke suddenly as they idled on a curb.

She sent him a dull stare.

When she was almost starting to tolerate his existence, he had written her off. She was going to go home, peel off this dress as carefully as could be, and then boil herself in a shower. Burning away the rotted outer layer of her body felt like the only way to rid herself of this night. Once refreshed, she was going to lay in bed and cover herself in breadcrumbs while laughing at two psychos who failed to kiss at the altar for the first time in their miserable lives.

She returned from her fantasy evening and was about to walk away when he continued. 

“So let me do it again. For real this time. None of this…” Michelangelo waved up and off the exterior of the restaurant.

“Bullshit.” She recalled.

“Exactly.” He snapped a finger at her and punctuated it with a wink.

She shook her head at him.

“How’d I do…?” He turned to the side as if not to sway her. “Wanna try again?”

“No fancy restaurant?”

“Nah, let’s eat pizza and I’m going to say the dress code is decidedly not a new dress you’re going to return.”

“When will you drop that-!?”

Michelangelo held up a hand.

She was going to bite through it with her teeth alone.

“I’m going to reach behind you. No weird stuff.”

“Why!?” She tried to look.

He seemed to know she would and was there with a tap between her shoulder blades.

She felt a prick of something and a little tug that went through her dress.

“Your tag has been sticking out all night. I wanted to tuck it in, but I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“The…tag…” She paled.

“Can I do it now?”

She could only nod.

“Sorry…” He seemed to mean it and was considerate in minding her skin as the piece of flimsy cardboard slid along within her lining. “There. Much better.”

“Every time I talked back…” She mouthed.

He appeared in front of her with a carefree smile playing on his lips.

“Knowing I lied to your face, you want to go out again?” She looked him right in the eye.

“I mean sure. I still want to get to know you. You’re nothing like I remember.”

She had already lost her color, but this time her stomach dipped with lethal warning. “Excuse me?”

“You went to school with April. At least I’m pretty sure!”

The innards dropping was the collapse of a black hole and a prelude before the nova went off with righteous fury. 

She was slow in setting her bread down before she flew up to catch that downy undershirt of his. 

“You knew this whole time!?”

His grin split his face. “Sounds like you did too!”

She shook him and he only giggled at the violent rocking. “Why didn’t you say anything!? You acted like you knew nothing! I don’t want to see you again!”

“Hey, wait!” Michelangelo caught her wrists to stop her in a single squeeze.

He was strong.

She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

She perpetuated her glare.

“I didn’t remember, remember you, alright!? I recognized that beauty mark!”

“My-!” She stopped.

Not her hair.

Not her lipstick.

Not her villainy.

Her beauty mark?

“Why that…?” Her fingers loosened against his top.

“Golden ratio…” He eased his hold as well.

“What is that?”

“It’s an art thing of perfect proportions! You’re smart right? It’s a Fibbi-something.”

“Fibonacci.” She spoke possessed by the knowledge.

“Yeah! That! Sure! But your face does the perfect spiral with the beauty mark as the eye grabber.”

“And nothing else…? Seriously!? Nothing more obvious!? Like on me!? Nothing?!”

“No…?” Michelangelo searched her.

He really seemed to only remember her for that.

She let go.

She took a step back.

“The worst part was I could not for the life of me remember your name. How humiliating is that? I didn’t know how I was going to figure it out!”

He had forgotten her name.

Just like she had forgotten his.

She looked at him one time.

He was watching with gentle interest. 

Like none of this really mattered. 

She laughed.

It burst her open.

It had a vivacity she hadn’t felt in years. 

It was a cackle to her ears, but it didn’t have that malicious edge that usually spurned it on.

When was the last time she had laughed like this?

She honestly couldn’t remember.

Michelangelo, without a thought in his head, watched on as if he was being presented an award.

She wiped her eyes and shook her head at him. “Authenticity doesn’t include lying to you, does it?” 

“Well, that depends.” His eyes danced with a playful light. 

She sighed. “Your name is too long.”

“Call me Mikey.” He shined with his smile.

“Mikey.”

“Yes?”

“We will work out our next date details over text.”

“Yeah!?”

“Calm down.”

“Yeah?” He repeated with an obvious dampening.

“Sure. Why not? I’ll take another free meal. You’re paying.” She shrugged, picked up her to-go container, flicked her ponytail, and spun to click away. “Night.”

“Got it! Night! Oh! Wait! I can pay for a cab! Or something! So you can get home and-”

“Nope! You’re going to watch me leave!” She called out and didn’t stop her momentum.

He was quiet for a moment before he yelled. “That’s a gift all its own!” If she didn’t want her bread so badly she might have thrown it at him.

🧡 NEXT 🧡

We got a full load of beta thanks with @tmntxthings  @thepinkpanther83 and @unrestrainedhotsoup

[daisywords]

five lines tag

thanks @illarian-rambling for tagging me!

Prompts: A line about the weather, A line about a secret, A line said sincerely, A line about a house, A line about water

I'm going to use Fear Me for these, since they seem particularly on theme for that one

A line about the weather:

The rain batters the roof in varying waves of intensity, and Jathan’s rigidness ever-so-gradually washes away. I want to ask him what he thinks is going to happen—but that’s not right. I want to ask him something, but I don’t know what. No, I don’t want to talk about any of it. I just don’t want to be alone.

A line about a secret:

A small rectangle of leather—perhaps a wallet? No, the leather is wrapped around something else. Breathless at my own audacity, I inch the package out of its pocket. To extricate it fully, I have to bend my wrist at the most unnatural of angles.  Kor’s arm pushes back at me when I twist against it, the message of “Stay still, you idiot!” coming through as clearly as if he were smearing it into my mind like you would. 

A line said sincerely:

“I’ve been waiting so long for the moment when I finally get to take you home with me,” says Adira, squeezing my hand. “Did you know I even have room ready just for you?” How could I, when I for most of my life I didn't even know she existed? I wasn’t even sure if she would know that I existed. If only Saref were still alive so I could shake him by the shoulders until everything he didn’t tell us fell out of his mouth.  The image of his wrecked corpse flailing loose-jointed at my violent hands rises unbidden to my mind, and I have to cling to her hand to avoid stumbling.  Room. A room just for me. “How did you know I was coming?” I ask. 

A line about a house:

Home is shining golden in the purple dusk, the prettiest house on the street, leaking warm light from every window. She points it out to me casually as we approach. I imagine our cousin—what was his name? Jathan?—growing up in such a pretty house, staying in one lovely, familiar place all the years of his life. 

A line about water:

It’s snow-runoff cold, and I’m aching and numb in a moment, but I stay put, rubbing at my arm and watching the blood bloom out pink into the clear water. My clothes feel heavy and pull me off balance in the current, so I stumble back and strip them off and throw them onto my rock.  This time I wade out free and dip my head all the way under. The tips of my ears throb with the cold of it.  When I surface I am very awake, so awake it’s dreamlike. 

tagging @thewriteflame @tragicheirs @cc-writes-stuff @the-orangeauthor @akindofmagictoo

Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

A line about the sky

A line said in anger

A line about earth/dirt/mud etc.

A line about a surprise

A line containing foreshadowing