#riiiight in the garbage

[cheese-water]

You’re telling me it’s NOT an 80’s gameshow??!

All im gonna say is when theorizing about genloss before gen 1 begins Go into it with a blank slate.

[silverskyeline]

'number one fan'

series (part 1) - rockstar logan meets popstar wade backstage. what could go wrong? (1.1k words) pairing - logan howlett x wade wilson tags - first meeting, rockstar!logan x popstar!wade, enemies to lovers, swearing, logan feels drawn to wade, alcohol mention, kind of cute, wade is his number one fan, band au, wade still wears his deadpool mask, wade uses the name 'deadpool' as a stage name.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

logan had never heard of their support act, but by the name alone he wasn't particularly interested. what kind of a name is 'deadpool' anyway? they probably play some regurgitated heavily sampled pop trash, the same sort of crap they loop on the radio that makes his ears bleed. or maybe metal, but not the good kind.

'deadpool'. . . what a load of shit.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it's not until logan finds himself backstage that he lands eyes on him, the front runner.

well, it's less that it was a casual encounter, more that wade makes his presence known in the only way he knows how.

"OH. MY. GOD." he squeals, balling his fists and shaking them as he squirms in front of the taller man, "it's you." he's adorned in merch, a shirt with logans face on it, badges on that same shirt, plus some stickers that were very obviously homemade. logan winces at the sight, but his eyes are more preoccupied with that mask he's wearing. red and black. what was he supposed to be, was this a sex thing?

there's silence, but only for a few moments, wade quickly fills it.

"can you sign my boobs?" he tilts his head, trying to meet logans gaze, pointing to his flat chest, "pretty please? i swear i won't sell it on ebay - or, well, i mean i guess there's probably people on ebay looking to buy human skin but-"

"don't do autographs," logan grumbles, thinning his eyes as he shakes his head. he pushes roughly past him, eyes glancing around for the rest of the band. why'd he always get dumped with the crazy fans?

"riiiight, gotta keep the fans at a distance, huh? smart, smaaart. . . i promise i'm not the kind of fangirl to hide in your basement. if i was i wouldn't have just told you that," he rambles on, following closely behind logan like a lost puppy, "the attic though? now that's-"

logan stops, wade walks directly into his toned back, stumbling backwards like a connecting bumper car.

taking a nice, deep, calming breath that does nothing to soothe the storm brewing within him, logan turns to face him once more.

"you know, you're taller than your wiki says. you should really do something about that," wade sighs, hands on his hips "unless you're the one that edited it. anyone can edit it, by the way - wikipedia, total garbage fire. i once had a back-and-forth fight with a mod while i tried to change the 50 states of america to just say: 'canada'. rest assured! i am banned for life."

a beat, and logans eye twitches. "do you ever shut the fuck up?" he asks with a look of sheer confusion on his face, he's not even sure what half of those words that spill from his mask-covered mouth even mean. and though he can't see through the material, he can tell the dumbass in front of him is smiling.

"no, not really," he shrugs nonchalantly, "it's one of my charms, that's what my wiki says. totally truthful. 100% accurate. 101% filled with grammatical errors."

logan groans and shakes his head in disbelief, he mutters something along the lines of 'this fuckin' guy' as he walks towards his dressing room. he had to be a joke, right? there's no way this guy was a serious musician, he could hardly hold a conversation never mind an instrument. who the fuck booked him?

"w-wait, where ya' goin?" wade calls out meekly, waving dramatically like a wife who's waving off her husband at war, "am i seriously not gonna get an autograph?"

slamming the door to his dressing room, logan disappears inside leaving wade to shrink in disappointment.

". . .aw man, wait 'till the mutuals find out i met the logan," he smirks, causing his mask to wrinkle as he searches desperately for his phone in one of his many pockets.

-

logan pays no attention throughout the support act, in fact, he remains holed up in his dressing room nursing a bottle of whisky. it was a pre-show ritual of his, and he wasn't going to give it up now. not even when his mind lingered to the little masked creature who annoyed the fuck out of him despite only being in his presence for a few minutes.

what? why the fuck was he even thinkin' about him?

whatever, logan thought, couldn't let people like that get inside your head. you give them too much room and they take root there like a bad smell, and logan had enough anger issues as is. he did not need this guy to make it worse.

so when he takes to the stage, his mind is firmly clear. well, as clear as it can be. logan often finds his mind to be slightly murky, waves never calm or gentle, a storm he couldn't quite tame. but music alleviated the heaviness of his thoughts, grounded him, finding peace in the melody, in the rough texture of the strings, the harsh beat of the bass that hits you in the chest like a bullet.

his eyes open, settling upon the audience.

until one audience member lets out a particularly loud shriek.

one that sounds all too familiar.

logans eyes immeditely hone in on the same guy from earlier. he's cheering in the front row, louder than everyone else. his body is pressed against the barrier as he waves a crudely written cardboard sign in crayon that says 'marry me logie' with a large red heart at the side.

maybe it's something in his pure enthusiasm, or the balls he must have to not feel an ounce of embarrassment, or maybe the fact that he's almost sort of endearing in a pathetic kind of way. but logan finds himself. . . smiling? no, it's not a full smile. that's rare, reserved for real special occasions. but it's close.

he's always found himself drawn to strays, because they often remind him of himself - lost, looking for a home, looking for somewhere to belong. and in that moment, logan could see something reflected in that stupid fucking weird mask of his - a craving for connection.

fuck.

in that moment, logan knew that this idiot had already taken root in his mind and was trying to make a home there. he couldn't let this happen, he wouldn't let this happen. he was a stranger, a deranged one at that.

no, this was not happening.

logan steals a glance in his direction once more.

except it was.

[s-4pphics]

omg y’all r really eating up ballerina!reader and tattooist!ellie😳 don’t encourage my obsessions this early in the morning

…… but here’s some quick hcs b4 work bc i’m in love with them🤭

cw: reader being a nasty(but talented!) little pain slut, she’s also a bit of an airhead, more of her gross inner monologues, ellie enjoying all of it😳, mentions of weed bc pothead!ellie is cannon in all universes it’s the rules😐, blood bc tattoo duh, thick thick thick sexual tension like golly just fuck already🙄

-ellie already had you laid back on her reclining chair as you slowly inched down your lavender sweatpants and panties just riiiight above your pussy, lifting up your cropped sweatshirt and tee until they were right under your breasts(u didn’t need to do that but ur a thot!)

-you used your pointer finger to show her exactly where you wanted your little sunflower tat(on your right side right in between the beginnings of ur v-line)with a gentle right here, in which she rubbed her gloved hand right over the spot with an even gentler right there?, making you sigh and nod

-ellie rubbed the spot with her covered thumb again to soothe ur jitters, but all it did was make ur nipples harden under ur shirt

-fuckfuckfuck fuck me—

-she transferred ur reference onto ur skin before slowly pulling the paper back and disposing it in the nearby garbage before she grabbed her tattoo gun, turning it on

-the room filled with a loud buzzing noise before u felt a stab that sent a shockwave through your body and made u grab onto the sleeve of her shirt

-she quickly jerked the gun away from u with a small you good?

-she thought your small jerk was out of pain, but your core actually had squeezed so tight that u needed to hold onto something to keep ur legs from splitting open on impulse

-u gasped out a whiny and broken uh huuh as ur slick pussy squeezed again before releasing her sleeve and oh my god no way u were about to cum from this—

-she licked her lips with a rigid nod before continuing, bending back down so she could see her work better

-whenever she wiped the small droplets of blood from your skin with a wet cloth ur pussy squeezed sooo tight that u dug ur nails into the cushiony plush of the chair

-ur gross side took over and u lifted your head up to get a good look at her position: her head was right above ur cunt as she closely inspected her work, some loose strands of hair dangling in front of her freckled face and all u could think ab was grabbing the back of her head and shoving her face between your legs and oh my god you might cum you’re gonna cum!—

-“alright, it’s doooone,” she said in a lighter tone as she wiped the last bits of blood away from ur freshly open wound, but u could hear the subtle shakiness in her voice

-“you can take a look before i wrap it,” she said while helping u sit up, pointing at the full length mirror in the corner of the room

-you hopped off the recliner, careful not to move too quickly as u walked and ohmygod it was so cute and small—

-“did you drive here?”

-u spun around with a light, questioning hum.

-“did you drive here?” she questioned again as she held ur eye contact. her green ones were so intense and it felt like she was looking through u, but u shook ur head no

-“my friend dropped me off!” you said cheerily before continuing, “i don’t know if this is allowed but she also was thinking about getting tatted by you and she wanted me to book an appointment for her—“

-“you smoke?” she said abruptly. your eyes widened and instantly glossed over at the tone of her voice

-“ci-cigarettes?” you stuttered out. please pleaseplease bend me over oh god—

-she choked out a laugh before slowly pointing at the giant green marijuana leaf on the wall behind you. you let out an acknowledging ahh before saying, “sometimes! it’s usually my way of de-stressing after rehearsals!” you said before pausing.

-you knew that look in her eyes from anywhere, so you took a bold step, then two, then two more, forward until you were nearly pressed up against her. you held the intense eye contact before seductively whispering, “some strains make me feel really really hot too.”

-she perked up instantly before releasing a breathy uh huh and a

-“let me take you home after i wrap that,” she said back in a thick rasp, pointing at your new tat. “my dealer gave me buds to sample and i wanna see how good it is.”

-and you almost passed out.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 5.2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. CW: contains references to past abuse

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3

5.2 We can get buzzed up here!

Eddie lit himself a joint, because his hands were shaking, and returned to sweating over ideas. The chambermaid came and went, and then yet another knock had him jumping out of his skin.

“Eddie?”

Steve! It was only 2pm.

Turned out he’d got a day off. He was through the doors unbuttoning his shirt, before Eddie remembered his notes all over the floor:

“What’s this?” asked Steve.

Eddie was about to invoke the ‘Don’t-poke-the-grizzly’ rule, when Steve—already on his knees exploring—picked up Eddie’s single completed sketch.

“You gotta be kidding,” said Steve. “Is this me?”

“Uuuuh, it’s a fae warlock.”

“Wearing hot-pants?”

“It’s for this goddamn video game I co-created.” Eddie looped a strand of hair around a finger and peeked from behind it, blushing. “You might’ve inspired me, Honey.”

Steve snapped his gaping mouth shut, returning his attention to the sketch. “I dig the pointy ears. And the tail. That could be fun, huh? Seriously, tho’—did you have to give me such a crappy hair day?”

It’s you after a long night of debauched sex. I worship that messed-up look.

“Sorry?” offered Eddie.

Steve stuck out his tongue. “A game, huh? So that’s how you hit the big time. Is this dude a goodie or a baddie?”

Honestly, Eddie hadn’t even figured where his fae warlock fitted in, if at all. His face was still burning, so he muttered: “Chaotic neutral, Sugar.”

After that, the grizzly was pretty much lying on its back asking for belly rubs. So Eddie kneeled down beside Steve and came clean about how he needed fresh ideas but was totally blocked creatively. Apart from doodling fantasy versions of Steve, that was. Fortunately, real life Steve turned out to be a mighty fine listener.

“Help me wrap my thick skull around this,” said Steve, when Eddie’s sob story dried up. “The first game was inspired by your geek-game fantasy world. Your good guys fight goblins and super-powerful evil mages and dragons and shit.”

“And liches,” added Eddie. He never got why people forgot the liches. “I didn’t rip it all straight out of D and D. I’ve pulled a Tolkein too–you know, stole ideas from mythology and olde worlde history and shit.”

“Riiiight,” said Steve. “Like, it’s kinda obvious how you get a new twist. Why don’t you set the second game in the real world.”

“Steve, it’s not sci-fi. It’s a total fantasy game.”

“So what? All this hooey would be waaaay scarier if it bled into the real world. Then your heroes would have to power up with magic juju to protect their friends, younger siblings, and grannies and shit, and… Okay, it’s total garbage. I’ll shut up.”

“You put yourself down too much.” Eddie didn’t hate the idea… and Jesus, his hands were shaking worse than ever now. He totally needed Steve out of that unbuttoned shirt, which slipped deliciously off one shoulder.  “Look, I’ll talk to Dustin and Suzie about it. They’re my co-creators, the brainy ones.”

Steve’s delighted grin tugged a small smile from Eddie. He jumped up, and Eddie scrambled after. 

Steve said, “Hey, why don’t we go out for a drink or something?”

Eddie’s arms, which he’d looped around Steve, grew rigid. “We can get buzzed up here.”

“Yeah, but… I dunno, it’ll be like a date or something.”

A knee-jerk silent scream of horror ripped Eddie’s nerves ragged: “It’s your day off. Go knock yourself out, Babe. I ain’t coming.”

“If you wanna be alone, say so.” Steve wriggled free and backed away. “Or if you don’t want to be seen around with me… Screw it, please yourself.” 

He turned to leave. Eddie literally sprinted around him, blocking his path. “Look, it’s me, not you. I’m a freak, okay? I’m not a fan of the big, bad world right now. I don’t really wanna—”

“You don’t have to explain, man.” Steve wearily pushed his gelled hair from his eyes.

Eddie tented his hands in prayer. “I do. I owe you that. Listen, I believe I’ve got a teeny touch of agoraphobia.”

“Huh?”

“Fear of the great outdoors? Crowded places?”

“Oh.” Steve’s eyes stretched wide. “That sucks.”

“I really, really don’t want you to go. Please, Steve, stay? We can hang out, eat trash—”

“—have sex?” Steve rolled his eyes, faintly snickered. “All right. If the routine ain’t broke, why fix it.”

Eddie’s relief nearly set his knees sagging. In truth, he was genuinely gagging for Steve to stay because Steve wanted to. He chickened out of saying it, though. Instead, he snickered too, steadying his nerve and his shakes by firmly grasping Steve’s butt:

“If you let me indulge a freakshow kink, I got an extra two-hundred bucks for ya.”

…

Eddie leaned forward to whisper his ‘freakshow kink’ into Steve’s ear. Steve bit his lip to the point of pain.

He prayed he wasn’t going to have to remind Eddie about his no breath-play rule. He figured he could be flexible on a few welts and bruises—perhaps because hurting Steve seemed such an unlikely thing for Eddie to ask for. Then he remembered the smashed pillar that first night…

“I wanna play with your ass, Stevie,” whispered Eddie. Huh? That’s not exactly a newsflash. “I got a little something I wanna fill you up inside with.”

“Bring it on.” Steve grabbed a handful of Eddie’s hair, and dived into a kiss, working it mechanically.

Butt plugs. Steve had used them in the past himself, as another way to loosen himself up before impatient clients. He’d stopped, because it always gave nasty-ass bastards nasty-ass ideas: “So you’re that kinda dirty little slut, are you?”

He’d had some real evil shit shoved inside him—metal dildos, ones with weird nodules. Some douchebag Brit aristocrat once nearly did him permanent damage with some great truncheon that felt thick as his arm.

Eddie broke the kiss first. Steve plastered on a very professional smile to disguise how his stomach flipped: “Love it, Eds. But, uh, nothing that stretches me too bad, okay?”

“What?” Eddie actually squeaked. “Shit, I should’ve been plain. You ain’t getting nothing bigger than my tongue inside you.”

“You wanna eat me out?” Steve wrinkled his nose. “I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before— you do realise you’re the one paying?”

“My treat, darlin’, literally—you’re gonna taste so sweet.” He leaned to husk in Steve’s ear again. “I ordered waffles for breakfast. Saved the whole jug of maple syrup.”

“It’s gonna get sticky.”

“I sure hope so, Stevie.”

Steve sprawled belly down on Eddie’s bed, while Eddie trickled lukewarm syrup up his thighs and across his butt. He moaned, splayed his legs, focussing on the smooth drag of the silk covers against his dick. Trouble was, for some reason, he’d still got slight jitters. Heck, he’d had nightmare experiences with hot wax as well as butt plugs.

He glanced back.

Eddie… It was Eddie. Eddie was… one of the nicest guys he’d ever known. Eddie’s eyes were always kind, and…

“All right, Stevie?” 

“Hell, yeah.” He thrust ass up, angling his knees inward so the cheeks split wide.

Eddie began to lick, leisurely stroking up Steve’s syrup-smeared thighs, setting Steve squirming. 

“Mmmmm, mmmmm, Honey-pie.” Eddie sounded so stupidly delighted, he shunted Steve’s bad experiences into the darkest corners of his memory. “You likey?”

“I fucking love it.”

Eddie dabbed teasingly close to the back of Steve’s balls, then lathed back up toward Steve’s hole. He genuinely slurped at the syrup, and the stuttering suction sent each of Steve’s raw nerve-endings wild. By the time Eddie tongued lightly around Steve’s rim, Steve gasped, whimpered—too much sensation, all of it driving him nuts. His dick was as dripping as his maple-drenched ass.

“Can I go deeper?” asked Eddie, voice muffled, breath scorching.

“Jesus, pleeease.” Steve was now begging for real. Screw that, demanding: “Eat me out already!”

...

6.1 on tumblr

Chapter 6 on AO3 tumblr link coming soon!

I've added a hashtag #thefreakinthepenthouse for ease of finding the earlier parts. I can also tag if anybody is interested... please let me know.

Thank you for reading. Likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[m0use123]

Lin could tell something was wrong the moment she saw her wife's face.

Kya's normally happy, smiliey face was glum.

"Hey" she whispered as Kya burrowed her way into Lin's open arms, "what's wrong baby"?

"They cancelled my favorite show" Kya sniffled.

"What"!? Lin squawked, leaning back and looking her wife in the face. "They've cancelled the real housewives of Ember Island"?!

Kya nodded sadly.

"Get your coat Kya" Lin said, standing them both up.

"Where are we going"? Kya questioned curiously putting on her shoes.

"We're going to my sister's office. No way I'm letting my wife go through a Friday night without her favourite garbage".

Kya rolled her eyes. "So garbage you insist that I wait for you to get home before I'm allowed to watch it".

" ...... that's irrelevant ...... ", Lin sniffed indignantly.

"Riiiight" Kya said, clearly unconvinced.

"Just get in the car Kya".

- - - - - -

"Linny. Hurry. It's starting"! Kya yelled in the direction of her wife's home office.

Lin hurried in and dived onto the sofa with her wife.

(Theme song ........ dramatic music)

"Tonight on the real housewives of ember island ....... Will Mai get the engagement party she's been dreaming of? Will Azula finally propose to Ty Lee? Will Ursa divorce Ozai or take him back? That and many more on tonight's episode of the real housewives of ember island".

- - - - - -

"Oh dang. I did NOT see that coming" Lin said, sliding off Kya's lap and twisted around to look at her. "Azula's been sleeping with Katara all along!? And don't even get me started on Ozai's secret second wife ........ I mean ..... mind. blown ".

"What was that about you not being intrested in this program"? Kya asked, raising her eyebrows.

Lin sniffed "What's your point"? She asked quietly, but kissed her wife on the nose all the same.

"You secretly love drama" Kya whispered against Lin's lips.

"Shhh. Don't tell anyone" Lin said, smiling against her lips.

~Fin~

[sandmark]

she's totally not side-eying him right now.     ❝     riiiight.     ❞     without breaking a sweat, cassie lifts a garbage bin & chucks it at the escaping villain. she wipes her hands, satisfied, as the garbage bin hits its target.     ❝     & now he's not.     ❞    

❛❛ i'd like to point out that i definitely didn't need rescuing, ❜❜ not that she'd have known such a thing, but he's nothing if not stubbornly annoying, ❛❛ & your bad guy is getting away . . . ❜❜ / @sandmark

[spacebunslewis]

Naomi just withdrew from rg 😔😔💔

[rpmxmesss]

red vs blue // sentence starters! season 12 edition, part 1

“I am not gold, I am not yellow, I am fucking orange!” “Go tell _____ to suck a dick and then get in position.” “...What if this doesn’t work?”    “Probably won’t.”    “What if it’s a trap?” “Probably is.” “On a scale from 1 to 10, I’d say we’re pretty fucked.” “Look at me, I’m smart! I like slide rulers and protracters-- oh I can’t wait to go do some protracting!” “Honestly, if you were out in the field, you’d probably get us all killed.” “I am fucking awesome.” “Thank you, mute button.” “If you hug me, I will shoot you.” “Isn’t that great?”    “Great is a strong word, _____, I’d’ve gone with tolerable.” “Everyone has their price. I learned that a long time ago, and you’re no exception.” “Name’s _____, slayer of women, wooer of evil~ wait--” “Dibs.” “I was sticking my tongue out at you! But-- I-I guess I’m wearing a helmet so...shut up.” “What if I am too good looking?” “Riiiight. I could really feel _____’s concern when they dislocated my shoulder yesterday.” “Surviving isn’t always enough.” “They’re smart, _____ won’t be expecting dumb.” “They didn’t take us to get shot, but they sure as hell left us to die.” “My ass was asleep for so long I thought it slipped into a coma!” “How do you break into an evil ice fortress?”    “You melt it! Like evil ice cream!” “What about friction? All the ladies tell me I light a fire between their legs!” “This is why winging it’s a bad idea! No more winging it!” “Ugh, we have to run?” “I think worst case scenario is getting shot. Or _____ getting shot and we have to carry him -- there’s only three of us.” “I have an idea! Let’s play the quiet game.” “Well if I can’t beat off a room full of dudes, then what have I been training for this whole time?” “I wasn’t dead. My limbs just stopped working and they put me in the garbage. It was the most enjoyable experience I’ve had in years. Then you showed up.” “Riiiight, and I’m the charismatic mercenary with a gruff exterior but a heart of gold! A little to romantic, don’t you think?” “Miss me, assholes?”

[ask-olive-huchers]

“Wow. Grown man bullying a child? That’s a bit pathetic on your end. WELL TOO BAD YOU CANT, BECAUSE YOURE DEAD. MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DIED IN THE FIRST PLACE, HM? OH RIGHT, BECAUSE BEING A RICH PRISSY JERK IS ORIGINAL. RIIIIGHT, REAL SMART THERE, SIR. OH YEAH? I BET YOU DONT EVEN HAVE THE GUTS TO BULLY SOMEONE, LET ALONE THROW A PERSON IN THR GARBAGE. MAYBE YOU RETHINK YOUR DECISIONS, DUMBASS.”

Hey

hey bro

So..you don’t know what a panini is, sir? (/ref teehee)

— NUMBER #1 JAY STAN

╰┈➤ ❜ I never got my fucking burger with cheese, let's focus on that instead. That's the real reason I died. Olive if you're seeing this I died because I didn't get my BURGER-- ❛ 

[dessbian]

Kris’ Phone: A Deltarune Theory (Kinda…)

Okay, I know everyone and their mom probably knows of the link between the phone calls Spamton was receiving and the noises our phone makes in Deltarune, and the way it presents a link to Gaster in the noise the phone makes being the same noises from Entry 17.

I mean, thinking about it generally, it is the only on-hand item Kris has that doesn’t change. I mean, even if it wasn’t going to work, there could’ve been some way to change the phone up to make it more Dark Worldified, but, as far as we’re aware, it is fundamentally the same as it is in the Light World. The noticeable exception to this is that it no longer works and functions like a standard phone.

This intrigued me because well, it’s obvious Toby would want to keep the phone as a key item. It would complicate things to have Kris suddenly be able to throw away or get rid of the phone. Despite this, I expected something to change. But no, its description is as normal as ever. “It can be used to make calls.” Which like, duh, yeah, but it doesn’t become anything cool? Even the LoadedDisk has a proper description. You can feel it smiling in your hand gives us more information than It can be used to make calls.

So, why doesn’t Kris’ phone change?

.. This question isn’t rhetorical. I have no clue, honestly. I’m assuming it could be an oversight and I’m looking far too deeply into it. But, if I had to make a random guess, maybe it could be an intentional change to the code, the fabric of the Dark World, and subsequently, change the way objects react to it?

Okay, so, if we take that random idea and run with it, the next question is: Why Kris’ phone?

The phone isn’t particularly useful in the Dark World. I mean, it’s useful in the Light World definitely, but it really makes no sense as to why it would need to work in the Dark World. I mean. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work at all, right?

… Riiiight?

Well, except for the fact the garbage noise we hear is, well, noise, and when we use the phone we don’t select a particular person to call. So it can’t be said the phone is completely obsolete: then the sound would be more akin to a beeping, or just dead silence. But it makes not just a sound- but a distinct one.

Not just a sound, but one that we’ve heard before in Undertale. One that the Addisons have heard as well, attempting to listen to Spamtons phone call.

Spamton, very obviously, has not been hearing this garbage noise. He’s been hearing something else, someone on the other side of the phone. Assuming this being (who isn’t-Gaster-but-probably-could-be-Gaster) is the being speaking to us through Kris’ phone, well, that would... still not make sense.

I mean… why would this entity be speaking to us if we can’t hear it? If it doesn’t want us to hear it? Obviously it wants the message to be received through Kris’ phone. It’s not like Susie, Noelle, or Berdly start getting weird garbage noises through their phones. It’s us for a reason, but it also isn’t us obviously, since we can’t hear the message.

Whoever is intended to listen to this message and understand it must be someone that would reasonably be using Kris’ phone in the Dark World. Someone that could hear this message.

But… we alone hear the message, so obviously there’s no one else who could be there to recie-

(I didn’t… have any other pictures of Kris onhand.)

Yes, this post is a giant convoluted way to propose the idea that maybe this entity (Mike, Gaster, whoever.) is communicating with Kris through the phone.

If it was Gaster it’d make more sense to me personally, especially if you believe the egg theory, which means he’s purposefully obscuring himself from our view to give Kris eggs. He also can tamper with the code, which is the only idea I have as to why our phone doesn’t change appearance wise.

As for what he- or any other entity- could be saying to Kris? Well, I’m completely lost on that.

.. I don’t know if anyones said this before and I missed a wildly popular theory honestly. I know people have brought up the link between our phones noises and spamtons phones noises and how it may link back to Gaster, but I’m not sure if anyone brought up the idea of him talking to Kris through our phone specifically.

also im no major theorist so cut me some slack if i missed something, im always open to new ideas. ok bye [dances]

tl;dr: Maybe someones talking to Kris through their phone, the same way they talk to Spamton through his.

[legionnaireslover]

How twisted do you have to be...

to reduce almost every relationship a person has to be equated with a matter of who was sleeping with who!

According to the Haters EVERY male Sophie has ever worked with, is only due to the fact she was having sex with them (and yet in this weird scenario Sophie is also incapable of having sex?!?!). "Gambles" (not a friend, but a "lover"), David Birkin (ditto), and even Adam Ackland!

Now, Jane says some nice things about Sophie and is obviously very friendly with her, so of course...

Riiiight, now Jane Campion had BC on her "casting couch" because JC HAS to be suspect because BC gets along with her and the Haters can't abide with her liking Sophie!

So Gator agrees with Aeltri that BC had sex with JC because they have a friendship!

No barrel is deep enough for Haters to scrape that garbage out of!

At the same time, the one ongoing relationship that there IS actual REAL evidence of two people having sex - Sophie and BC - the Haters absolutely refuse to accept THAT AS REALITY! Perish the thought! LOL!

[silverskyeline]

: ̗̀➛ happy wip wednesday! rockstar!logan x popstar!wade

"riiiight, gotta keep the fans at a distance, huh? smart, smaaart. . . i promise i'm not the kind of fangirl to hide in your basement. if i was i wouldn't have just told you that," he rambles on, following closely behind logan like a lost puppy, "the attic though? now that's-"

logan stops, wade walks directly into his toned back, stumbling backwards like a connecting bumper car.

taking a nice, deep, calming breath that does nothing to soothe the storm brewing within him, logan turns to face him once more.

"you know, you're taller than your wiki says. you should really do something about that," wade sighs, hands on his hips "unless you're the one that edited it. anyone can edit it, by the way - wikipedia, total garbage fire. i once had a back-and-forth fight with a mod while i tried to change the 50 states of america to just say: 'canada'. rest assured! i am banned for life."

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

will drop this fic on saturday, a shorter fic at 1.1k words - but hope you guys enjoy it! thanks to @dott-reblogs for the request!

[radical-superstar-daycare]

Riiiight. *I say in a tone of disbelief with a arched brows* And who pray tell are these visitors?

[The mermaid continues smiling, gesturing for you to follow her as she begins moving along the side of the tank, beginning to lead you to the box that contains the animatronic child]

<< I'm not sure if you've had the pleasure of meeting either of them, but one works in the daycare. His speech is odd and outdated, but he's entertaining. The other is a raccoon who eats garbage. Their names are Fresh and Rascal. The boy I mentioned before visits too, but he doesn't speak to me. Only to the caption >>

[katyawriteswhump]

Bed of Roses (steddie love month, day 17)

For @steddielovemonth, Day 17 prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl ) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: prostitution, unwanted kink/abuse/pet-names (NOT between Steddie) alcoholism, substance abuse. Tags: rockstar Eddie, rent-boy Steve, make-up fic, angst, shameless perversion of Bon Jovi lyrics. WC: 2,000.

...

“'Cause a bottle of vodka's still lodged in my head…”

In his dressing room, pre-show, Eddie grasped his second bottle of vodka in an unsteady hand.

“…and some blonde gave me nightmares; I think that she’s still in my bed.”

This was NOT GOOD. Eddie had gotten sap-fest Bon Jovi lyrics slithering around his brain. He couldn’t for the life of him remember his own lyrics.

“Hey, Amigo,” he announced to the vodka. “I got a venue of ten thousand to entertain, and you’re literally my Obi-Wan—my only hope.” He caressed the bottle’s label. “80% proof, huh, Baby?” 

I’m serious, Eddie, you’ve had enough. You WANT to follow Kurt Cobain into the 27-Club?

Riiiight. That was not a Bon Jovi lyric. That sounded more like Steve Harrington, in sensible-parent mode, hands planted on his slender hips.

The tears struck fast. Eddie clonked the bottle onto the dressing table then followed it, pressing his heavy head to the glass.

He seriously didn’t want to die. However, he was so through with this life. Of any life, without Steve. The cavity where his heart once lay veered between grating emptiness and an unbearable pain. 

His fingers twitched toward the bottle. Screw it, the show must go on, and he’d lost his only light in the darkness…

“… as I dream about movies, they won't make of me when I'm dead.” 

That still wasn’t one of his own darn lyrics. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single goddamn word of any of Corroded Coffin’s songs.

A sharp knock on the dressing-room door had him squealing like a little piggy. An old guy poked his head in.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You hired me, Mr Munson. Dirk Gordon—Private Dick?” 

“Ah… Yeah, so I did.” Eddie’s rotten heart hammered way too fast. “Have you..?"

“Yes, Mr Munson. I believe I’ve found him.”

…

“What do you mean, you're not gonna pay me?” Steve wrapped his arms tight around himself. The only heating in his boss’s rundown office came from the guy’s endless chain of cigarettes. “I spent the whole evening simpering at that old dragon. You told me she liked music—I talked music endlessly.”

“You yammered on about some death-metal garbage. She likes Wagner.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “What’s Wagner? That crusty old film-star?”

“Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve. What am I gonna do with you?” His boss sauntered around the desk and hooked an arm around him.

Jesus, you stink.

“You’re good-looking, kid, you’re charming, but you simply can’t cut it with that kind of high-end client.”

“She seemed happy.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, failing to shake the guy off him. “She paid you, right?”

“Not the full whack, and you got a fancy meal out of the bitch. Look, I’ll give you your cut, if you do better tonight.”

He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck. Steve tried not to shudder. When his boss produced a piece of paper and wedged it down the back of Steve’s skin-tight jeans, he stopped trying to hide his revulsion.

“Details are all there. He’s a banking exec, early forties—no more dinners and dances with Doris, you’re spending the night at his house.”

A dry lump clogged Steve’s throat. “Is he gonna want..?”

“Sex? Christ on a bike, what trade do you think you’re in?” He squeezed Steve’s butt.

“Jesus fu—” Steve bit his lip, fixed on his damp sneakers. 

“Believe me, Steve, your hair ain’t your best asset. You’re gonna have to sell that plump lil’ ass for real, sooner or later.”

Steve flinched, then schooled his features as blankly as he could. 

“This guy’s got a few kinks, but as Johns go, he’s a pussycat.” He lifted Steve’s drooping chin with his knuckles. “Show him what ya got, Sport.”

Steve couldn’t get out into the drab morning fast enough. He retrieved the paper from his underwear, shoved it in a pocket unread, then stumbled, zombie-like, into a diner. “Black coffee, please? It’s an emergency.” 

The waitress smiled. “You want breakfast, Steve?”

He shook his head, though his stomach grumbled.

He ended up slumped on the table, his face pillowed in his arms. Christ, ‘male escort’ had never seemed like a great idea, but he’d figured the pay would beat waiting tables. So how come he was still behind on his rent, and that he still couldn’t afford to eat some days, let alone buy his pain meds?

He muffled a miserable laugh in his elbow. He genuinely wished he could afford to get smashed, get high, because nothing could fill that gaping black hole of pain. Even worse, one of his fave Bon Jovi songs was playing on the radio, and SO not helping:

“Tonight I won't be alone, but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely.” Shit! He was fighting back dumbass tears already. “I got nothing to prove, for it’s you I’d die to defend.”

Why the hell did he run away? He can’t recall any reason that mattered anymore. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he mumbled. “I miss you so much.”

Somebody touched his elbow, and he jolted up. “Sorry, hon,’” said the waitress, “we need this table for dine-in customers.”

“Right.” Steve swiped any tell-tale moisture from his cheekbones.  “I’ll clear outta your way.”

...

“Ready for playtime, Bunny Rabbit?”

Steve’s skin crawled, and his face burned. He’d gotten his head in the client’s lap, and the guy was playing with his hair. It would be tolerable, he guessed, if he’d not so often laid in Eddie’s lap like this, and… Christ, Eddie! Steve shut out the unwanted touching and began to drift. He was so beyond tired. And that song from the diner crept back:

“Now as you close your eyes, know I'll be thinking about you. While my mistress—she calls me to stand in her spotlight again…”

The pinch on his cheek startled Steve back to the present. “You kipping there, Bunny Rabbit?”

“Uh… er, sorry, Daddy.” Uuuuuuurgh! “Whatever you want, Daddy.” He dared sit up. “I’ll grab a condom and, uh… stuff.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” When Steve went to rise, his arm was grabbed, and he was held in place. “I don’t like rubbers, Cutie.”

“You heard of this thing called AIDS?” Dipshit!

Steve wrenched his arm free. The guy raised his hand and slapped him. Which wasn’t exactly out-of-the-blue, because face-slapping had been listed among this repellent son-of-a-bitch’s kinks.

“I’m paying top whack for you.” He leaned over Steve, suddenly kinda huge and scary, not least because Steve now saw double. “Your pimp said you were clean, so I’m gonna have you any way I like.”

“I… uh…” Steve kicked the bastard’s shin and shoved him hard. “Go to hell, asshole.” 

He fled out into the night, still dizzy from the blow. He pulled his mesh vest back on over his head. The icy wind bit, and he realised he’d left his only jacket behind.

“Jesus Christ! JESUS CHRIST!” He kicked a lamppost, holding back on venting the true force of his feelings. Still hurt.

He limped off up the street, fast as he could. The ache in his toes at least distracted him from the ringing in his ears. An hour later, he stumbled around the corner of his block, thinking only of throwing himself into his bed, while he still had one.

He was so close, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood suddenly on end. Through the haze of his exhaustion, he realised a car crawled up the gutter behind him.

Had Mr Happy-Slappy-Sleazebag come after him? Then again, Steve’s pursuer could be anybody. After all, he was walking through a red-light district, shivering his ass off.  Dressed like the whore I am. Hahaha!

The car pulled up right beside him. A blacked-out window rolled down.

Steve ran, turning sharp up a dark alley, then… Shit, shit, SHIT AGAIN! He was only a hundred yards from his digs, and yet he was so messed-up that he’d sprinted up a dead-end.

He nearly kicked the bricks. Instead, he punched them, as if that would blast through the solid wall. He turned about, bit his grazed fist, and sank slowly onto his haunches. 

Two figures approached up the alley, silhouetted against the lights of the street behind. Get up, Harrington! GET UP! His legs wouldn’t obey, and his breaths came only as rapid gasps. Nothing felt real anymore. Am I gonna die..? I’m gonna die!

A hand stretched out of the gloom.

Steve stared at it—at the familiar chunky silver rings, which couldn’t be real. He glanced up, and… wtf? It was Eddie, apart from it wasn’t Eddie. This dude looked more like Eddie’s ghost. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

Maybe I scored some Benzos after all, and totally ODd.

“Stevie?”

No mistaking that voice. If this was a trip, it was a good one. Steve pried an eye open, and Eddie’s hand was still there. Steve took it, let it help him to his feet, because… Why not? Suddenly, they were in each other’s arms, clasping each other tightly. This is real. You’re real!  Eddie reeked of booze, and also of something devastatingly comforting and familiar. Somebody’s wretched sobs shook through them both.

“I’m s-sorry.” Steve sounded broken. “I-I honestly don't know why I left anymore. I was such an idiot.”

“No. I was the idiot. I’m sorry, too. So very fucking sorry.” Eddie sniffed hard, lifted his tear stained cheek from Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve not been doing so good without you.”

Steve blinked the moisture from his vision. He wondered if he looked as wrecked as Eddie—red-eyed and waxy pale, under the distant glimmer of the streetlamps. Probably. If he hadn't leaned against Eddie, his legs would’ve given out again.

He laughed, without knowing why. Eddie laughed too, and it warmed Steve’s soul. “Gonna be honest, Eddie—not been doing so good without you, either.”

…

When Eddie got out of rehab, Steve waited on the steps of the clinic, hand stretched out to take his. He pulled Eddie close, and then into a sweet, lingering kiss that renewed Eddie more thoroughly than even a lengthy booze-free sleep.

“I’m never going through that again,” said Eddie, his lips still brushing against Steve’s.

Not least because I never ever want to be parted from you again, even for a fortnight.

“Yeah, but you’re dry, Eddie, and you’re alive. I’d say that’s goddamn metal of you.”

They started back to the car, hands still clasped tightly. “Not gonna take credit, Stevie. You’re what got me through.”

“You might’ve got me out of a fix, so we’re even.” Steve’s sigh rode on a wistful sadness. “I mean, I was so lost. Thinking of you was all that kept me… I dunno, alive, I guess. You know, I kept on thinking about that Bon Jovi song.”

“Uh, you know how I feel about Bon J—"

Too late. Steve burst into song: “Well, I'm so far away, each step that I take is on my way home. A king's ransom in dimes I'd give each night to see through this pay-phone—”

Eddie pressed fingers to his boyfriend’s parted lips. “As much as I hate cutting you off in your prime—two teensy-weensy issues. Firstly, I had no idea where you were, and you never called! Second, what’s wrong with my blood-and-death drenched lyrics?”

Steve took Eddie’s fingers and kissed them: “Hurt too much to think about them.”

“You know what, Sweetheart? Hurt too much to sing them, without you around. Even though none of them are actually love songs.” Eddie raised his gaze to the heavens, and looped his arms around Steve. “Go figure.”

“You sure they’re not love songs? C’mon—they’re all secretly about me, right? Only coded or something. I’ll crack it one day.”

Steve’s gently mocking smile destroyed him, in the best possible way. They tumbled into a French kiss, and he resigned himself willingly to the only thing that mattered: 

“And the truth is… Baby, you’re all that I need.”

...

Thanks for reading <3 Likes, comments and reblogs always much appreciated :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on ao3).

[pathopharmacology]

Hey. I'm the anon that checks in on you occasionally. First, sorry for thanking you for doing your job, I understand now that was tone deaf and I'm sorry for being an ass with that. Secondly, you've gone completely dark since this pandemic started and I'm really worried about you, especially since IIRC you work in emergency. You don't have to be okay (although that sure would be nice!!). I'm guessing you're not. But I'd like to know you're alive. And I want you to know you're not forgotten. We're not friends, though we're mutuals last I checked, and I want you to know someone cares even if there isn't shit I can do to help. Stay breathing. Keep your head above water.

Shit, friend, I am so sorry I freaked you out like that. God’s honest truth, I haven’t checked tumblr in ages, because I kinda noped out of most social media after we lost our first baby and then never really found my footing again after because a bunch more Life Stuff happened (more on that below). I don’t know that I’ll resume any sort of presence here, but for those who do want to stay in touch I have a twitter account (@patho_patho) I use occasionally. It honestly never occurred to me that anyone would worry. Again, I’m super sorry about that. I never intended to scare anyone.

Anyway, life update! The tl;dr version is that I found out I was pregnant in November of last year, freaked out SUPER HARD about it because of how things went the last time, freaked out SUPER HARD some more when covid-19 started showing up in the states, left the emergency department for a care management position right before the hospital implemented a hiring freeze, basically didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant until I was like almost 26 weeks along and it was incredibly obvious anyway, and — several months later — ended up having an unplanned (but non-emergent) cesarean delivery when my water broke three weeks early and the baby was breech.

The little dude is now 8 weeks old, growing like gangbusters and marvelously healthy. Unfortunately, our entire state caught on fire recently, so I’ve just spent the last week with him up at my parents’ house because the air is poison and their ventilation situation is way better than ours. Fun stuff.

I can’t explain how good it was for my mental health to get out of the emergency department. I was struggling even before everything happened with my first pregnancy, so when I got off my “postpartum depression is even more awesome when your baby is dead” medical leave, I was in a REAL bad way. We were thrilled when I got pregnant again, but it was also much earlier than we’d intended (apparently I’m super fertile, hooray?) and I spent the first trimester pretending like it wasn’t happening because I wasn’t sure I could survive the loss of another child. Covid started being a thing riiiight as I was heading into the second trimester, and...let me tell you, being pregnant during a pandemic is absolutely terrifying, and it was even more terrifying when I was still working in the ED. Those early days, when we really didn’t know much except that it was really, really bad? God, that was brutal. I was having panic attacks on my way to work, because I was scared shitless that I was going to get it and either I would die (thus killing my baby), or there would be complications of some sort (which would kill my baby), or me and the baby would be fine, but I would give it to the Dude or my parents and then one of THEM would die and...

Anyway. Bad times. It was bad times.

I was interviewing for a number of positions when things started amping up, and accepted the care management job literally days before the shelter-in-place orders went into effect, which led to a hospital-wise hiring/transfer freeze. The transfer still went through, thank god, and my new job has been amazing. They were super cool when I finally told them I was pregnant, especially when I explained why it took me so long to disclose it in the first place (basically, I wanted to wait until the final diagnostic tests were done and I knew 100% that this kiddo wasn’t sick the way our first was). I’m currently on maternity leave, and every once in a while my supervisor will text with a demand for more baby pictures. It’s really nice, actually. Care management is challenging as fuck, but it’s also really rewarding and interesting, and I’m glad I was able to make the switch before the whole world imploded.

(Also, it’s super nice to be in a position where the stakes are not literally life and death, and I’m also not putting my own life on the line every time I go into a patient room? I might’ve been okay with that once upon a time, but, uh, a lot of shit changed for me last year)

That’s pretty much it, unless y’all want to hear the whole pregnancy saga (which probably isn’t all that interesting, to be honest, except for the last bit with the c-section and all). Parenthood is deeply scary and deeply amazing. Everyone talks to you about postpartum depression, which makes it super easy to be blindsided by postpartum anxiety, which is like regular anxiety except your hormones are completely out of whack and you cry a lot and also refuse to sleep because you’re convinced your baby will die the moment you stop looking at them. Being a new parent during a pandemic is even scarier than being pregnant during a pandemic, and I honestly have no idea how I’m going to explain all of this EVERYTHING to the kiddo once he’s old enough to ask what the fuck was up with 2020, anyway.

Again, I’m really sorry I scared you by going radio silent. I’ve got all my notifications turned back on in case you or anyone else has any follow-up questions, and people are always welcome to check in over on the twitters (which is a garbage site, I freely admit, so I totally understand if folks would rather not). I definitely aten’t dead, and right now I’m doing better than I have in a long while.

Now I just need the air to stop being poison.

[crackimagines]

The Virtuous Mission (Persona 5 Short Fic)

Suspecting Akira, Ann, and Ryuji are the Phantom Thieves, Makoto takes it upon herself to find out the truth behind their mysterious activities.

As for Akira, he decides to start messing with the Student Council President.

----

(Morgana) “She does know we see her, right?”

(Akira) “Probably, but let’s see how much fun we can have with this.”

----

When Akira left his classroom, Makoto slowly trailed behind him.

Makoto had been assigned to find out who the Phantom Thieves are, suspecting that Shujin Academy’s students were the culprits.

Having her instinct guide, Makoto knew she was going to find out the truth if she stealthily followed Akira.

(Makoto) “Let’s see what you’re hiding, Kurusu...”

...

Akira wondered what to do with the rest of his day. No one was able to hang out, and the adults he usually did hang out with were far too busy.

(Akira) “Hm.”

Makoto was also going to be following him the entire day, so there was that too.

Once they were out of the school, Akira turned to Morgana.

(Akira) “We don’t have anything planned for today, do we?”

(Morgana) “Not that I’m aware of.”

Akira smiled as he looked up and saw Makoto hiding behind a pole with a book to her face.

(Akira) “Well, what say we have a little fun by ourselves then?”

Morgana turned to Makoto then grinned.

(Morgana) “Where’s our first stop?”

...

Underground Mall, Shibuya

Akira walked around store to store, gazing around and see what caught his eye. 

Everytime he walked out of a store, Makoto would quickly run in, trying to see what he bought and see if it would help her investigation.

(Morgana) “She really doesn’t have anything better to do?”

(Akira) “Guess not.”

As he walked by a pawn shop, he noticed that they were selling a boxed ramen pack, something Ryuji would enjoy.

(Akira) “Oh!”

When he went in to purchase the item, Makoto waited outside and peeked over her book, seeing what Akira was buying.

(Makoto) “What is he buying, the fiend?! It’s...Ramen...”

Akira walked out, pretending not to notice Makoto. She ducked under her book, but it was painfully obvious to anyone looking that she was failing miserably to hide.

(Makoto) “Maybe it’s a secret package of some kind. Hmph, I have to keep watching! This could all be a devious ploy after all!”

(Morgana) “What dastardly crimes will we commit today with the help of a freakin’ ramen box?”

Akira chuckled as he left the station and headed towards Central Street, with Makoto hot in pursuit.

Central Street, Shibuya

After grabbing two drinks from Big Bang Burger, Akira noticed that Makoto was standing right outside the store.

Akira waited to see if she would notice him, but after three minutes it was to no avail.

(Akira) “...ahem”

(Makoto) “OHMYGOD-I-I MEAN...Um, what a coincidence to see you here! Up to no good?”

(Akira) “Want one?”

(Makoto) “H-Huh?”

(Akira) “All that walking must be tiring after all. Carbonated, or non?”

(Makoto) “Non, please.”

After handing her a drink, he walked off to the book store.

Makoto was taking a sip of her drink before she stopped midway, her eyes going wide.

(Makoto) “...Did he know I was following him?”

Before she could get too lost in her thoughts, she went after him, drinking all of her cup in one go and throwing it into the garbage. 

Akira browsed the bookstore seeing if anything caught his eye.

Meanwhile, Makoto tried to see what books he was picking up to see if it looked suspicious. The only books Akira was picking up were obscure things, like popular tourist locations, and how to charm the girls.

(Akira) “Morgana, you sure this will even come in handy? I get the tourist locations since I don’t know the city but...”

(Morgana) “Oh trust me, we need to charm anyone who comes our way! More importantly, I gotta charm lady Ann!”

(Makoto) “Who is he talking to, his cat?...OH!”

Once he was done, he exited the store and looked at Makoto.

(Makoto) “O-Oh, I see you like reading too! Heh...um...-”

(Akira) “I can tell you’re gifted at it.”

Hearing a bit of snark from his voice, she frowned.

(Makoto) “What’s that supposed to mean?”

(Akira) “Well, I can’t read upside down but you can! You’re impressive, Niijima-senpai.”

Her eyes went wide as it looked down at the book and realized the entire time she had been following, it was upside down.

Makoto’s face began to glow red a bit as she fumbled to get it back upright.

(Makoto) “I-I just saw a stain on it, is all!”

(Akira) “Riiiight.”

He went on his way and sure enough she tagged closely behind.

(Akira) “Boy, I can’t wait to go to my PHANTOM THIEF HIDEOUT.”

No one paid what Akira was shouting any mind, but Makoto almost dropped her book.

(Makoto) “I GOT THEM!”

Akira went inside the nearby diner and Makoto almost tripped over herself trying to get to the door.

Once she was inside, Akira was seated at a booth and waited.

(Makoto) “I knew it! I caught him red-...Wait a second.”

Akira was waving at her, as if motioning her to sit down with him.

(Makoto) “He’s making a mockery of me, isn’t he?!”

She stomped right over to Akira’s booth and pointed a finger at him.

(Makoto) “Do you think this is funny, Kurusu?!”

(Akira) “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’d like to ask YOU something. Do you normally stalk people, or am I just special?”

(Makoto) “I...!”

She honestly couldn’t think of a good excuse for that.

(Akira) “If you wanted a date with me, you could’ve just said so!”

(Makoto) “S-SHUT UP!”

(Akira) “Take a seat, won’t ya? Everyone’s staring.”

She noticed that several of the customers had been looking at her the entire time. With her face growing red again, she sat down, ready to blow up on Akira.

(Makoto) “If that was a joke, then why am I here?!”

(Akira) “I figured you’d be tired of just following me the entire day, so I thought a meal might help clear the air.”

(Makoto) “What, no second motive here?”

(Akira) “Nope. Besides, you looked lonely at school. It’d help if you enjoyed yourself every now and then too, ya know.”

(Makoto) “I don’t need your pity!”

GROWL

Akira raised an eyebrow, hearing Makoto’s stomach.

(Makoto) “...U-Uh...”

(Akira) “Come on, it’s on me today.”

(Waitress) “Hello, how can I help you two?”

After giving their orders, Makoto awkwardly fiddled with her book, trying not to seem flustered.

(Akira) “Ya know I gotta admit, today has been pretty entertaining. People were giving you all kinds of funny looks!”

(Makoto) “Ugh, are you this intolerable to Takamaki and Sakomoto?”

(Morgana) “Hah, if only she knew today was the tip of the iceberg!”

(Akira) “Something like that.”

When their meal finally arrived, they dined together in awkward silence.

Well, awkward for Makoto.

Once they finished, they left the diner together.

(Akira) “So, I’m on my way home. Did you wanna stalk me there too since you’ve got the streak going?”

(Makoto) “I-I AM NOT STALKING YOU!”

(Akira) “That’s a shame, you’re gonna miss my super duper secret hideout for the Phantom Thieves. You can meet the ringleader there too if you want!”

(Makoto) “Oh, haha!”

(Akira) “For real though, I’ve been told I make a mean cup of coffee!”

(Morgana) “Psh, you wish! Sojiro says that you’re decent at best!”

Akira subtly crushed his bag a little as Makoto pondered on it.

(Makoto) “You...won’t be making fun of me the entire time, will you?”

(Akira) “Only if you don’t probe me the entire time.”

Makoto figured it’d be a good idea to see where the main suspect lives, risky but...

At the same time, Akira didn’t seem to be that bad of a person as the rumors made him out to be.

(Makoto) “I...I will pass today, but thank you for the offer. Perhaps another time.”

(Akira) “Well then, get home safely, Niijma-senpai.”

As began to walk off, Makoto cleared her throat.

(Makoto) “U-Um, thank you for the meal!”

Akira waved his hand in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn to face her.

Makoto went back to her house and struggled to process what had happened today.

She was supposed to be keeping Akira under watch, but if anything she was the one who was kept in check.

Sighing, Makoto got embarrassed everytime she thought about how stupid she must have looked.

Sae walked through the door and saw Makoto on the couch, almost as red as her eyes.

(Sae) “...Makoto?”

(Makoto) “I-I’M FINE SIS! IT’S FINE!”

(Sae) “...Okay?”