#lobita to lobita conversation

[geniousbh]

diva que me tirou da depressão e me fez parar de tomar tarja preta!

é sobre, meu amorzinho💘 fuck'em depression só eu posso acabar com o emocional de vocês😝😝😝🤘🏻🤘🏻

[achromatophoric]

Enid: YOKO!! How could you even think that?!

Yoko: Aw c’mon pup, it’s just for fun!

Enid: That garbage human being nearly killed Willa, and you think she’s hot?

Yoko: Not gonna lie, the whole villain era adds to it. I’d let her hit me with a shovel just for a chance to lick her cherry red boots.

Enid: 😟

Ajax: Dude, you hafta admit, Ms. Thornhill was a total smokeshow even before she went all psycho. Shit bruh, I named a strain after her!

Enid: 🤨

Ajax: *proudly* Mari-Lit Thornherb.

Enid: 🙄

Divina: Sorry Enid, I’m with them. Those glasses of hers? Total evil librarian vibes. She can stab me all she wants if that means she’ll Dewey my decimals.

Enid: 😧

Enid: But, but— Bianca! Crackstone threw you across the Quad, right? You have to be miffed about Thornhill!

Bianca: Sure, but have you seen Yellowjackets? Thornhill’s like a less crazy Misty. I’m on the fence about girls, but for her, I could ride that fence.

Enid: 😫

Eugene: Well, I think that bitch—

Yoko: Whoa! Language, Genie!

Enid: *makes X with arms* NOPE! Baby Bee is not allowed to join this conversation. Kent?

Kent: C’mon little dude, let’s go check in on your buzzy buddies.

Eugene: *dragged away* DUDE!! What the heck?! I’m not that much younger…!

Everyone waits until Kent and Eugene are gone.

Enid: *glares*

Enid: Seriously. I’m ashamed of you all. Like, one -hundo percent.

Wednesday: *walks up* Are they bothering you, mi lobita?

Enid: *gasps* WILLA! You’re not gonna believe this!

Wednesday: ?

Enid: Our friends— no, these degenerates— they all think that Marilyn Thornhill is hot!

Wednesday: Actually, her cell is likely to be quite drafty at this—

Enid: AS IN SEXY! They all think that Marilyn Thornhill, aka murder-bigot Laurel Gates, is sexy hot!

The others collectively appear nervous, except for Bianca “No-shits-to-give” Barclay.

Wednesday: *eyes narrow*

Wednesday: *sneers* That scum would receive a double-tap from me.

Enid: HA! Now that’s what I’m talking about! Two to the head, pew pew!

Having just flipped a bird with each “pew,” Enid makes sure to wave them triumphantly in everyone’s face, person by person.

Yoko: *whispers* Pssst. Addams.

Wednesday: 😒

Yoko: Tap is also slang for sex.

Wednesday silently mouths back, “I said what I said.”

Inspired by this reblog by @badcures

[neon-junkie]

having sexual tension with Flaco and the boys in the Del Lobo gang taking bets on how long this is gonna last (love you Rat! thank u for being awesome )

I get SO carried away with Flaco stuff ;-; here’s a long list of headcanons for you, gender-neutral reader, but the Spanish pronouns are female! and thank you lovely anon<3<3<3

When you first started working for Flaco, you assumed he was a man with his walls high up, who wasn't fond of strangers, or unnecessary conversations.

He was blunt and straight forward with you, giving you your job, followed by your pay. Once the conversation was over, you'd be on your way; Flaco would never suggest that you warm up by the fire, or ask how you're feeling, etc. That's just how he was.

For many reasons, you continued to work for him. You're not bothered by the snow, and Flaco pays well, probably because few people want to trek up the mountains to do his dirty work.

But he's also... well, you know exactly how you feel about this man, despite his blunt responses and lack of interest in you.

Part of you thinks you'll be able to wear him down over time, slowly drawing out his personality, and hopefully something more. And if not? then at least you tried.

On the odd occasion, the rest of his gang will be camping beside his cabin. They seem to come and go as they please, probably being sent on missions by their boss, or trailing off to do their own dirty work.

The first time you ever met them, they pointed their guns at you and ordered you to state your business. They didn't believe that you were just here to work for Flaco, but he soon came out of his cabin, overhearing the commotion, and assured them that you're "a friend."

Flaco apologized for his men's behaviour, and they apologized to you directly the next time they saw you.

But the fact that Flaco called you his friend gave you high hopes, and motivated you to continue working at his outer layers.

Weeks continued to pass by. Flaco didn't seem very different, but his men had taken the time to get to know you, inviting you for a drink around the campfire, and sometimes even joining you on missions.

They nicknamed you 'pequeña lobita ', meaning 'little wolf,' as you're not quite a Del Lobo, but you're affiliated with them.

But one night, after a few too many drinks around the campfire, one of the gang members slipped up and told you the other reason why they call you pequeña lobita.

You've noticed how Flaco calls himself 'the wolf', and it must be a nickname that his gang members also call him; you're called little wolf, because he's the big wolf.

They tell you about how Flaco's secretly swoons over you; you obviously don't believe it, but the more they explain, the more you realize how true it is.

Flaco's closed himself off to you for many reasons: he's worried about making a fool of himself and messing up his chances, he thinks you won't go for an 'old man' like him, he doesn't want to waste your time, and so on.

They've teased Flaco before, making passing comments about how often you visit him, to which he brushes them off and barks at them to "mind your goddamn business!"

His gang continue being honest, saying that they've placed bets on how long it'll be until one of you finally bursts the bubble. They refuse to tell you how long they've all estimated, for obvious reasons, but you go to sleep that night deciding that you'll do something about it.

The next day, Flaco has work for you, and you instantly pick up on the signs of tension that you were too naive to miss: he's awkward, extremely awkward, his eyes refuse to meet yours, and he constantly fiddles with that same stick that he's been whittling for months.

Now that you're aware of Flaco's secret feelings, you feel yourself become just as awkward, struggling to speak and refusing to look directly at him.

"Are you okay?" Flaco suddenly asks, his eyes meeting yours for what could possibly be the first time ever.

You shrug him off, saying that you're just a little tired; Flaco doesn't take the bait, and rises from his chair, standing far-too-close to you, his eyes peering down at you.

There's a moment of silence as Flaco studies you, and he finally opens his mouth to say "my men always seem to forget how loud they get whenever they drink, eh?"

All the colour drains from your face, realizing what Flaco is indirectly talking about. "And it seems you can be pretty loud too, huh?"

You're lost for words, stuttering and sweating, a flustered mess. Flaco can't help but softly laugh at the sight, and you realize that this is the first ever time you've heard him laugh, and the first time you've seen him smile.

"I think you know what I'm specifically talking about," Flaco states with a chuckle, and you shyly nod along.

He lets out a soft sigh, and apologizes for a list of things: how foolish he was for not making his feelings known, how he didn't mean to play you about, how he should have done so many things differently.

But his words are cut short when you reach out to place your hand on his, giving him a soft squeeze, and reassure him that you're not mad - you're far from mad, you're glad that this has finally happened.

"Your job today is to let me get to know you, that is... uh... if you want," Flaco offers, and genuinely seems surprised when you lead him over to his bed, both of you getting comfortable, and finally having a proper conversation with each other.

Flaco confesses many things: the amount of men he's killed, what his exact bounty is worth, how long he's been on the run for, and so on. But the one thing he'll never confess is that he's the one who nicknamed you pequeña lobita .

He was drinking with his men one night, when they decided to question who you exactly are. Flaco let his personal nickname slip, and the teasing instantly began, to which Flaco scurried off, muttering about how he'll never drink with them ever again.

You never found out who won the bet, as all the men refused to tell you, but that's because Flaco won it and his men are too ashamed to say anything (;