#this post is technically a drabble

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Non-writers also free to weigh in.

There is a correct answer here by the way. I am a drabble purist but I want to know what other people think about this beloved format.

[baskeigh-ball]

posting some mind swap doodles to prove im still alive, so have a few headcanons :D

- Leo in Mikey's body is pure chaos, he has no boundaries when it comes to modifications to "his" body in order to feel more comfortable in his own skin. For example, he gave himself his old markings to cover up Mikey's spots (only around the eyes tho, the arm and leg markings would take way more time.) He loves using Mikey's mystic powers/weapons at first, but eventually feels too weird about it and switches to his own weapons/gear to cope

- Mikey reins him in whenever he gets a little too confident in using his mystic powers though. Mikey is always hovering nearby to make sure Leo doesn't decide to go overboard, fully aware of Leo's lack of awareness when it comes to his physical limits, let alone when he's in someone else's body

- Raph is on the opposite side of the spectrum as far as modifications go, only willing to give Donnie his tech back and wear arm wraps to feel more like himself.

- The only tech he has to keep is the battle shell, especially after realizing just how fragile Donnie's body really is. He becomes refuses to take it off for days at a time, and when he does finally take it off, he's extremely paranoid and puts himself in the safest spot possible: his own room, bundled up in pillows and blankets.

- He also is woefully ignorant in how the battle shell is operated, so it goes haywire pretty often in the beginning. Donnie has to be nearby and ready to be damage control for a long time before Raph becomes confident enough to operate the battle shell's most basic functions.

[thoughts-rambles]

Diavolo had been showered with praise his whole life. Of course he was, he was the ruler of the Devildom! He had grown up being constantly loved by the people, he was royalty, and they would all love him appropriately. But oh, how he hated it. Sure, hed smile and nod when approached by the faceless demon who would love and compliment him for whatever reason. But he hated it. He hated that everyone would repeat the same sickening phrases, almost like a script, to get whatever they wanted from him. It was so stupid in his eyes; he was tired of it.

So why, when you complimented him, did his heart beat faster than usual? Why did he want to hear more; to have you hold his face and tell him everything you ever loved about him? Maybe it was because you truly saw him; not the scary tall demon, not the prince of Hell, not the rich and powerful man he was. You saw him as Diavolo. Maybe, he had truly learned what love felt like, and he was not going to let it get away from him.

He would do whatever it took to get any form of affection from you. He found himself taking extra care of himself in the morning, the tireless routine becoming almost exciting now. He would wait, a moment alone or even just a glance back at him, so that you'd smile at him and possibly even grace him with the sweet melody that was your accolades.

[crabsnpersimmons]

I wanna give them all a lil kiss :3

ooou! kisses for the boys!

Moon: no no no! please wait! i need to clean up clean up!! and then! then...! w-w-w-we should get to know each other first! this! this is too sudden!!

Sun: I do not understand.

Eclipse: Guess you'll have to settle for just little old me for now!

[bisexualmcqueen]

so i figured out the funniest possible way to do the 'salqueen babies' trope

he then finds someplace better (cave)

cuddle pile time

she's framing that.

they are a crazy but happy family <3

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Nights Spent In; Azul Ashengrotto

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established relationship

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; This is for one of my first mutuals @azulashengrottospiano! I hope you enjoy this, and some domestic Azul! [and I'm keeping a screenshot of your ask ^v^]

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Safe to say your social battery was pretty much at zero. You had fun, yes, but all you wanted to do was stay at home in some ridiculously comfortable pyjamas, eat leftovers from lunch, cuddle a bit, and maybe look through the storage container labelled Games! :D since there could be some hidden gems in there. And right now you were cuddled up under a super chunky knit blanket, snug as a bug in a rug.

You were content just putting the leftovers from lunch in the microwave, but Azul had insisted that he made the both of you dinner. You didn’t mind, since you had a nice view of him working away in the kitchen, muttering the recipe of tonight’s dinner to himself. He was even wearing the frilly apron and kitschy oven mitts.

What a dork. I love him so much. You giggled to yourself, watching Azul go about the kitchen, off in his own little world. 

Sighing, you got up — the blanket draped over your shoulders so you were still in your nice blanket burrito — and shuffled over to the Games! :D container, seeing if there was anything interesting that Azul wouldn’t just automatically win. You loved him, but if he made you go bankrupt again in this world’s version of Monopoly one more time you swore that you weren’t going to give him any kisses. You may love him, but he was not a humble winner. 

So any strategy games were completely out the window, luck based games were more on your side… hopefully luck just decided to favour you tonight. At least you had a cute chef at the least.

Hmm? What’s this? Blowing off the dust you pulled out an old edition of Snakes and Ladders. It relied only on luck, so it was perfect!

“Hey, sweetie,” you called to the kitchen.

Azul was just placing your dinner in the oven, it would take about thirty minutes to bake, so he had time to spare… and for you? He could spare all the time in the world for you. “What is it, darling?”

You held up the game under your chin and gave him your biggest smile. “Wanna play?” You waggled eyebrows for some added flair, and it made Azul chuckle.

“Fine, one round, but I won’t go easy on you,” he said, sitting down at the coffee table. He eyed the game, and squinted his eyes at the dice. A luck-based game? Playing your cards right I see.

“You never do,” you shot him a wink and rolled the dice. You moved your piece forward, not hitting any ladders.

Azul rolled his eyes, but took his turn, overtaking you by two spaces, also not hitting any ladders. “Would you rather that I did?” He looked up at you through his lashes, a small smug smile on his face. 

You hummed as you took your turn, getting a ladder and going up a row. “No, it’s more fun like this, plus you’re extra cute when you get fired up.”

Azul pushed up his glasses, trying to ignore the warmth that had seeped into his cheeks. “Flattery won’t help you, my dear, when I win.”

“We’ll see about that.~”

The rest of the game was spent in silence, the occasional tch escaping when either of you hit a snake, but the game was neck in neck. You had to roll a perfect six to win, and Azul a four, and it was his turn. The both of you had your fingers crossed.

He rolled a two, the exact number that he didn’t want. He moved his piece forward and gritted his teeth as he moved it down two rows. He sighed, handing over the die. He knew that he had most likely lost this game.

You gently took it, and rolled a six. You had won. “Looks like luck was on my side tonight,” you grinned.

Azul grumbled, but he couldn’t stay mad at you. “Would you like a prize for that?” It was part sarcasm, but also part genuine question.

You placed a kiss on his cheek. “Just spending time with you is a prize in its own right… but I won’t say no to your cooking either!”

It wasn’t really a prize, as you were already getting his cooking for dinner, but it nonetheless made Azul feel soft and warm. The two of you really should spend more nights in if they were going to be like this.

~~~~~~~

Tags: @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @inkybloom-luv, @identity-theft-101, @krenenbaker, @officialdaydreamer00, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[dansconcepts]

More Limbus Company Brainrot

Been a hot minute again but I'm back to revive this account because of Limbus Company's April Fools update and I'm a huge fan of the silliness hAHA so spoilers of me just talking about it below:

I live and breathe the new icon real-estate bc of their personality swaps and so this'll be littered with them

And when Don Quixote was revealed to be Faust I nearly lost my shit that was so funny

FAUST BEING ACTUALLY CONCERNED BY THE IDEA OF BEING IN DON QUIXOTE'S BODY FOREVER IS SO VALID

And I just got to the part where Faust was going to be considered a laughingstock over this and i do want to clarify that i am laughing not at her but at the bizarreness of the situation in general

Outis coaching Yi Sang to be assertive and loud is me trying to talk and my friends encouraging me

Dante, you may be in hell but this is the most hilarious thing I've ever seen HAHAA

As someone who hasn't traversed past Ishmael's boss I'm so out of the loop but I don't mind spoilers so we go brrr over this update

I'm going to be haunted by Sinclair-esque Heathcliff holy shit and also SMUG CHARON

[moonlit-dreamers]

drew out a scenario idea that @night-waker had

for context, this eclipse is called solstice and servant sun is called sunshine. sunshine accidentally fell through the portal when the wither storm attacked and he entered a different dimension that was much nicer and calmer. at first him and solstice had a rocky relationship (sunshine was scared he would be punished even tho solstice would always remind him he wouldnt) but over time they grow to enjoy each others company! tho theyre not great with communicating that to each other- but thats a different thing!

theyre relationship with each other is complicated so i wont be talking about it in this post but if ppl wanna know i can make another post for it :)

(also @lyrical-hue bc ik u would wanna be tagged)

[vykio]

Aaron has just pulled his shirt over his head when he hears the stairs creak. He freezes, the shirt still stuck around his arms as something like apprehension burns its way through his body. He’s only still for a moment before he throws the shirt all the way off, chucking it blindly behind him. Whoever is climbing the stairs is doing so at a snail’s pace, but not carefully enough to avoid all the squeaky steps.

Aaron forgoes grabbing the snow globe on his desk to use as a weapon and crosses over to his bedroom door to jerk it open.

At the top of the stairs stands Kevin Day, somehow a bright spot in the completely dark hallway. He flashes a smile at Aaron that shows all his teeth, then slides his feet over the carpet in big strides to reach him.

“Hey,” Kevin says as he closes the door. He leans back against it and Aaron stares at Kevin’s goofy expression. He used to be more subdued—better at giving away his feelings with just the quirk of his mouth rather than the full motion of his cheeks. Now, Kevin looks far too happy to see him.

“Were you even trying to sneak up?” Aaron says, partly to distract Kevin and to redirect his thoughts to safer grounds.

It works. Kevin squints at him. “I was. I did,” he tells him, gesturing to himself, here, in Aaron’s room, a little triumphantly. “I was careful.��

“Sure…”

Kevin huffs at the suspicion on Aaron’s face and ignores it to rake his eyes over his torso. He looks more serious doing this, like mapping the constellation of freckles on Aaron’s body is very important business. Aaron flushes all over, hot everywhere he thinks Kevin’s eyes land. He is suddenly very aware that he’s without a shirt.

Kevin presses the pad of his thumb on Aaron’s hip and curls his fingers around him.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Aaron announces, barely concealing the shiver that wracks through him.

Kevin glances his thumb over Aaron’s stomach and says, “Alone?”

Aaron gives him a deeply unimpressed look. Kevin must know it because he breathes a laugh before he even looks up to see it. “I thought you were worried about waking up the house,” Aaron says.

He takes a take back when Kevin takes a step forward to lean off the door. He keeps his eyes level with Aaron’s as he takes off his own shirt and discards it. “You’ll just have to be quiet, then, won’t you?”

They both know Aaron is not the one they need to monitor.

[yuwuta]

peds surgeon yuuta??? u cant say things like that i need to jump. the cartoons, the glasses, of course his freaky ass would have a thing for u calling him doctor okkotsu i need to die id wanna tease him sm and be all over him but i cant think of anything if its in a hospital how did the greys anatomy ppl made it work?

the grey’s doctors were FREAKS LMFAOO bc there is not space to be doing all that in the on call rooms…. honestly yuuta is probably too busy to even try anything with you in the hospital 90% of the time… he’s either in surgery or buried in the research library or falling asleep standing up 😭 sometimes you two pass each other in an empty stairwell and have time for a kiss or two, but never more than that (also because yuuta has very little self-restraint when it comes to you�� if he allowed himself more than that, then it would be much harder to stop…) 

sometimes the two of you will fall asleep in the same on call room. yuuta will page you there and by the time you arrive he’s already half asleep, it’s probably his only nap in the last 24 hours, so you do your best not to wake wake him when you cuddle up next to him. you get a few hours of bliss in his arms before his pager is waking the both of you up, and he’s got to scurry downstairs to the peds floor and in his hurry he doesn’t realize he’s snagged your lab coat instead of his own, and it’s only when he’s haphazardly slipped it on and the arms are too short and the shoulders are too tight that he figures it out. it’s too late by then, because gojo is the attending on this case which means he doesn’t miss anything, which means he’s the first to giggle and tease, poking at your name embroidered above the breast pocket, “oh? i didn’t know the two of you got married already! oh and you took her last name, how noble, yuuta!~” 

[jackwolfes]

anyway tumblr is dying like every other month and it never goes anywhere but i'm still gonna start transferring all my lil ficlets onto a new ao3 pseud @ demigodbeautiies_drabbles

peace & love & media preservation 💐✨💚

[kakerutori]

Will says “sorry” too much. He promised that he would stop, at least be conscious to say it less when it wasn’t really his fault, but he keeps doing it. Others assure him that he’s okay, that he doesn’t need to apologize, but it never stops Will from saying it reflexively. In comes his boyfriend, his best friend, really.

“Sorry.” It’s just a little scuffle about flowers. Should he be saying it?

“No, babe, it’s…” fine. Mike presses his lips together. It’s been days since they’ve moved in, and Will feels like he’s been saying that word over and over. He said it when bumping into Mike, calling him late at work, kicking him accidentally under the covers, now during a decoration disagreement.

Mike glances at his lips.

“I have an idea.”

Will closes his mouth, strangely self-conscious for a moment. “Yeah?”

Mike moves closer. “Not about the flowers.”

His heart leaps to his throat. “What? Not about the…”

“Because that doesn’t matter.” Mike slowly comes near enough to take his hand, interlocking their fingers on the tabletop. Smooth as ever, Mike leans in. “Promise me something?”

Will smiles softly. “Anything.”

“Next time you feel like saying, ‘sorry,’” Mike whispers, looking into his eyes, “I want you to kiss me.”

Will blushes pretty easily. So does Mike. It’s only a matter of time before they’re both feeling it.

“What?”

“I mean it. Don’t apologize. Just kiss me.”

Will can barely feel the words on his own tongue, his eyes meeting gentle and sincere brown, writing their hopes on his very soul. “Just for next time, then? Or do you want… to…”

Mike giggles softly. “You’re so cute,” he murmurs, looking his face up and down. Will knows that signal anywhere. “Every time, if you can remember. I want you to make it a habit. Just lean on me.”

Will presses a kiss to his lips. “I’ll try.”

“I know you will.”

Long story short, Will ends up kissing Mike everywhere around the house, and Mike kisses him back, every single time. Soon, the apologies fade, regulate, and Mike remains the victor over his heart, helping him know that he’s loved and that he doesn’t have to be so sorry for who he is.

[funky-fox-fics]

Prompt: Nether

"These guys are just bastards," Skizz mutters, punching another fireball back to the Ghast it'd shot from.

The Ghast wails as it dies, something that still shakes him, even though, well, they've killed a lot of Ghasts at this point. The tear, cold and hard enough to survive the fiery air of the Nether, is quickly burnt to a crisp by the lava it falls into. Not that they have much use for these tears anyway.

"Don't you mean Ghast-ards?" Impulse blurts, the pun coming to him in a moment of--hah, impulse.

Skizz laughs, sharp and loud and long in the playerless air of the Nether. Cuts through all the piglin snorts, and all the bubbling lava, and the rest of it--distantly calling Ghasts, distantly crackling fire. His laugh is loud and long and beautiful and Impulse never wants to go a day without hearing it.

"Ghast-ards," Skizz repeats, voice soft in the way someone who'd just laughed is. "Yeah, no, that's what they're called now. Stupid Ghastards!" He waves his sword at the lava lakes, where doubtless another Ghast has spawned by now, and Impulse can't help the laughter that escapes him as well.

"That was a really bad pun," Impulse mutters, still chuckling a little, as they head into the rest of the burning, furious Nether.

"But I liked it, and that's all that matters," Skizz says.

Impulse laughs a little, allows himself to indulge in the beauty of a bad pun. They're alone in this world, anyway, and if Skizz is laughing, why shouldn't he as well?

[rosenbergamot]

Something about a bottle of vodka that (almost) jogs your memory

“Scar…” Grian’s exasperated voice rings through monopoly mountain. He quickly peeks down into the first level. His friend is holding the bottle of vodka he had managed to find ages ago. “Where on earth did you find this. How on earth did you find this. What even are you doing with this.” 

None of his ‘questions’ are actually questions; his inflection does not go up, as Grian is not actually curious as to where he got the alcohol, rather he is tired of his shenanigans and trying desperately not to lose his mind. Scar kicks his feet and giggles, his hair leaking over and dangling in the air. 

“Why, I got it from the village, of course! Before I burnt down that house— you remember the one, don’t you, Grian? It seems those pesky villagers knew how to distill alcohol. Have you ever seen that before, Grian? Distilling alcohol? In a village? It’s madness!” 

Grian’s beady little eyes glare up at him from the ground floor. “Scar, I don’t think either of us have seen villagers before we got here. There’s not much we’ve seen.” 

Of course they have. They’ve had to. It was only natural— he knows it in his heart. But they can’t remember this fact. When Scar tries to hold onto the memory, it floats away from him. Things he should know dissolve between his fingers. Things he shouldn’t know linger on the back of his neck. 

He picks up his cane and walks downstairs. The slats of the window are tiny but if one squints and tilts their head in the right direction, then they can see the entire desert and forest sprawled out in front of them. The sands sometimes hold their footprints until the wind blows them away, covers the paths they’ve taken. They’re still working on building up a cactus wall as defense. 

The sandstone awards them a bit of coolness in the day. At night it becomes unbearable, as they both flock upstairs to try and conserve as much heat as possible. There’s always a careful distance they keep from each other in the day, but during the night it becomes impossible to do so. When Grian grumbles and pushes his nest towards Scar’s sleeping bag, curls up right next to him and nudges at his arms until they open and he can be enveloped by him, that’s when Scar truly feels like he’s back to being a person again. 

If they could mend the self inflicted rift that exists in the daytime… well, maybe Scar wouldn’t feel so prone to drinking. As it stands, though, Grian’s found his bottle of alcohol and he is not looking impressed.

“Say, have you ever had a drink before?” He asks as he peels the bottle out of Grian’s hand. He smells like the sun. He’s been out all day. 

Grian scoffs, his pretty features twisting a bit as he obviously thinks about it. “Of course I have! I-- well, I haven’t had one here, but I can only imagine I have before. In another life.”

In another life. If only they got to have that. Another life seems like an intangible dream. 

He hums thoughtfully. He’s only had a few drinks from this bottle. Just enough to stave off the gnawing anxiety and bloodlust that grows underneath his skin everyday. 

He starts to toss the bottle from hand to hand, watching the way the liquid inside jostles. “The taste was at least a little bit familiar to me when I tried some. I’ve definitely had it before! No clue when. I wonder what I liked to drink before I got here? That guy… the other me. I wonder what he was like.” 

He laughs but it doesn’t have much humour. 

And Grian’s eyes look softer when he finally peels his stare away from the droplets racing down the bottle. “Yeah, it would seem that bits of our past bled through into this life. Like, I can’t resist pressing a button or flicking a lever no matter how dangerous it may be. Other me must’ve been a right moron, don’t know how I lived to be… here.” A hum. “And redstone makes me… sad. As if I’ve lost something close to me. Something really important." His face falls. “I don’t get it.” 

Normally Grian only gets like this when the sun falls. Normally he’s guarded, witty, sharp; and Scar is much the same, each of them trying so desperately to preserve what little bits of dignity they have left here. Prideful people. Pride is such a sin, he can see it now. 

He sits down, stares at the swirling shapes of the sandstone on the wall. “Sometimes I can feel my brain try to remember my memories. Things important to me. People important to me. But it’s like there’s a… a block.” 

A strange warble comes from Grian. He makes those sounds sometimes-- bird sounds, that is, which makes a lot of sense given that he is a hybrid, but they only happen in specific circumstances. They’re different each time, from chirps to melodies to whistles to clicks. It happens when he’s bored, when he snuggles up next to Scar at night, when he accidentally hurts himself, when Pizza is being extra cute.

This sound is sad. It rings in his chest. 

“I’ve tried to ignore it.” Is what he admits after a few minutes. “I, um… grabbing this gave me one of those feelings like you described. It was as if I’d done this before. Not just with anyone. With you...” His voice gets real quiet at the end. 

Scar fights to keep his voice even as he responds. “Do… do you think we knew each other before?” Before we got thrown into hell. 

For Scar, the answer to that question is obvious: yes. He felt it as soon as he saw all of them. He felt something deep in his chest when he saw Grian, flashes of memories trying to bubble up to the surface but unable to. When Bdubs first spoke to him, he felt an immediate instinct to comment on his height-- which would have been very rude of him! They’d just met, after all!

Except they hadn’t. They’d known each other before. An election. A moon. A home. What even is he trying to remember? 

“I…” Another sound worms its way out of Grian. It’s more desperate, uncomfortable. He laughs it off awkwardly. “Can I try a sip of that alcohol? I think I suddenly need it.”

For the first time since they began talking, Scar really looks at Grian. His face is tight with stress, eyes shiny, nose flaring. His feathers are all fanned out, his ears twitching. In another life, Scar thinks maybe he also had wings. He can feel an absence on his back, like something has been missing all along, a vital piece of him.

Grian’s wings don’t work. None of the avians have actual working wings that can sustain them for a long period above the ground; they can all flutter, sure, but it’s as if their bodies aren’t made for it anymore despite them having these traits. 

He tries to make his smile as gentle as possible as he passes him the bottle. “Of course, of course! Would be downright cruel of me to make you handle this while sober!” He aims for a humorous tone, but the situation is so fucked up and strange that it falls flat. His smile is pulling painfully at the edges. 

Grian unscrews the bottle, smells it. He makes a face. He looks at him.

“I recommend not smelling it.” 

He rolls his eyes, then takes a swig of it. The face immediately turns to disgust. He swallows it, gagging, coughing, pounding his fist onto the table. It looks just like he did when he tried for the first time. It makes him start to laugh. 

“Scar!” He wails. “It tastes horrible!” 

“It does.” He swipes it from Grian, steeling himself before taking a sip. He only flinches a little bit this time. He looks to see if it impressed Grian, but the avian is flapping his hands, eyes screwed shut. Dangit. “It’s not supposed to taste nice, Grian! Because then you would drink all of it and it would be horrible. It’s the alcohol’s defense mechanism, y’see? It makes itself so bitter when you first take a sip that you run away immediately! That way you don’t drink it all right up and end up gettin’ yourself killed! But it doesn’t work on me.” 

For better or for worse.

Peeling his face off the table, Grian turns to glare at him. “Well, it could stand to taste a little less like… that. Maybe then it would hurt less people.” 

“I guess.” He studies the way the bottle glints in the diminishing daylight. “So… are you gonna have anymore?”

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffs. “Of course I am. Pass it here.”

[lazaruswitch]

Guy Gardner: sometimes nuisance, often great friend, forever ginger, former social worker and teacher, current Green Lantern and... father.

"What the fuck," says Kyle. He was pretty exhausted from his latest assignment, and hadn't even hit the showers or went to bed yet, so he probably misheard. Or was hallucinating.

"What, Jane?" says Hal, like that's a normal fucking thing to say when John suddenly starts talking about running into Guy's daughter.

"What."

"Jane, or RJ, whichever she says. You haven't met her yet?" he continues as he digs through a bag. "You're missing out Kyle, she's a killer cook. Smart girl too, got a massive scholarship when she got into NYU. Might've been top of her class? Aha!"

Here, Hal pulls out a bag of brownies and crows in victory. Kyle's headache only intensifies.

"Oh, life is so good to me sometimes. Kyle, I'd offer, but I value these more than my life, so you're going to have to do all the hard work yourself."

Whatever that means. Hal starts eating the brownies like he's reenacting a vaguely pornographic food commercial. Kyle grimaces and turns away to look at John.

"Since when did Guy have a daughter? I've never heard anything about her," he asks.

"I'm not too sure myself, but I imagine it's been a couple years now. She was about 16 when he took her in, if I'm remembering right," John answers mildly.

Kyle blanches at that because, well, again, what the fuck. It sounded like she was already out of college, or at least finished a degree. That was probably at least 5 years of her being around somewhere.

John must see something on his face, because he says, "We didn't find out ourselves for a while, and only by accident."

"Yeah," Hal adds, slightly muffled. "He'd gone radio silent after a mission, and we were worried 'cause he got pretty roughed up. So we show up at his place and whaddya know! Some teenage girl, and a redhead at that, answers the door with the nastiest look on her face. Thought she'd deck us, honestly. And then Guy rushes out - totally fine for the record - and nearly flips his shit at us."

John gives Hal an unimpressed look.

"Get cleaned up and rest, Kyle," he says. "You'll see Guy in a few days, you can ask him then. It's high time you met her anyway, considering her ring."

"Her what?"

[wolfawaycamp]

hi! I would like to request a drunk max ranting about how much he loves Laura to everyone and anyone who'll listen

“Babe,” Laura tries, for the fifth time.

There’s a burst of unintelligible noise muffled by the way Max’s face is flush with the tabletop, before he finally lifts his head up just enough to be heard.

“Please don’t call me that,” he says earnestly, all soft and puppy eyed. “I ha—ave a girlfriend, and she’s my babe! Or I’m, I’m her babe? I don’t know but I have a babe and I am a babe already…”

“Max.”

“Her name’s Laura and she’s really cute and—”

“Max.”

“—but she’s really tough too and I wouldn’t mess with her—”

“Max!”

“...huh?” he croaks, bewildered.

“Babe,” she repeats yet again, while shaking her head. “I am Laura. Look at me!”

Slowly, his forehead peels off the wood and one blue eye appears to squint at her ever so slightly. Laura can’t help but smirk, eyebrows high on her forehead, at the sheepish look that comes to her boyfriend’s face.

“...oh. Whoops,” Max practically giggles, and he falls back against the table as his shoulders start shaking with the force of his laughter.

“What the hell happened to you? You’ve never been this trashed!”

“Tried to beat Jacob at beer pong… multiple times…”

“Ahh,” Laura says, understanding immediately.

“Got my ass kicked…”

“Clearly,” she snorts, then starts to drag him off his stool. “C’mon, let’s go get some food. And some water, christ you smell terrible—”

“Advil,” he complains. “I fell through our game table…”

“Yeah, we can get some advil too.”

🐦‍⬛

hope you like! <3