#fake proposal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

After the announcement of the deal with Yahoo!, there were 170K signatures of unhappy Tumblr users petitioning to prevent the sale in 2013.

possibility221 · 2 months

Text

Elementary // The Rookie fake proposals

episodes 4x22, 6x02

#Elementary #The Rookie #joanlock #chenford #fake proposal

25 notes · View notes

dawnthefox24 · 1 year

Text

*Lifeweaver is with Baptiste,Lucio and Symmetra in an undercover mission in Rio, as Talon is seen in Rio and are almost caught in a public space*

Baptiste:*Looks around frantically as he get down on one knee in front of Niran, as civilians watch him do that* Niran Purksamanee will you marry me !

Lifeweaver :*Looks at Baptiste as he blushes and panics for a moment laughing nervously* Oh Baptiste....No

Lucio: CONGRATU- What the hell?!*smiles but it goes away in confusion and shock*

Baptiste:*seems very nervous on why he did a stupid move and drawn more attention to themselves* N-No?

Lifeweaver: *smiles nervously * No...

Symmetra:*facepalms very hard * idiots

Lucio: *Looks at symmetra dumbfounded and confused* The hell just happen

Symmetra: Niran panicked *whispering *

Lucio: so idiots?

Symmetra: 100% idiots, might as well be caught by talon

#Overwatch #overwatch shitposts #Niran Pruksamanee #jean baptiste augustin #overwatch symmetra #overwatch lucio #buatiste #bapweaver #proposal goes wrong #gay panic #fake proposal

66 notes · View notes

selene-stories · 2 years

Text

Prompt #79

“Earth to Hero?” Villain whispered. “Snap out of it!”

“Right,” Hero said, mind still reeling. “Right.”

“Just play along.”

Well, Hero wanted to say, kind of hard to when the love of your life is on their knees, flashing a ring at you.

Kind of hard to, when you haven't had the courage to confess to them in years. Kind of hard to, Villain, when your full attention is on me, eyes shining and familiar.

But instead of saying that, Hero just gave their audience a smile.

They prayed to whatever Gods there were, that their crush wouldn't notice the racing of their heart, wouldn't care for the tremble of their voice, as they finally said “yes” for all the nearby ears to hear.

#writing prompt #my writing #hero x villain #proposal #fake proposal #public proposal #heroes and villains #villain x hero #writing inspiration #writeblr #my prompt #hero x villain community #writers on tumblr

131 notes · View notes

chillychive · 2 years

Text

A little Sprolden for y'all

Michael:

"I'm a little bit in love with everyone I meet, but I think that's normal."

She's giving me this look like "that was bullshit but I couldn't care less.", and then contradicts her own look by asking- no, stating "So you're bisexual."

I grin and lean closer. What I said was true. There's a little something to love in everyone. Some people have a little more than others. Victoria was blessed with so many things to love about her. It's truly remarkable that she still manages to hate herself when she looks in the mirror. God, if she could channel that into something other than being a chronic pessimist or trying to decide my sexuality for me- "You love all these words, don't you? Gay, bisexual, attractive, unattractive-

"No, No I hate them."

"Then why label people?"

Victoria tilts her head at me. She looks miffed. Actually, I'm pretty sure her face always looks fairly bored or sad (I think she doesn't realize quite how often she looks like someone killed her puppy, and I'm not going to tell her.), but I think she's started to get annoyed. I'm still leaning across the table, but I'm trying rather hard not to think about how close I am to her. "Because that's life. Without organization, we descend into chaos."

I can't help myself. I chuckle, leaning back. Chaos can be far more fun. "Well if you care so much, what are you?"

"What?"

"What are you? Gay, straight, all-around horny, what?"

"Er, straight?" She says it like this is the default option- like she hadn't ever thought about it until this moment. I'm pretty sure I didn't even come with a default setting. I'm pretty sure the defaults took one look at me and went running. I don't care. I like it better this way anyway.

I decide to push my luck. "And are you sure you're straight? Have you liked a boy before?"

She blinks at me, then looks at the floor. I'm almost worried, but she says "All right, then. I'll let you know if I fall in love with a girl anytime soon."

I smile. I can't help myself. It's truly, truly beautiful that this girl can coax so much happiness out of me. Most people would think I'm always happy, the way I go around smiling and looking like I'm living my best life. But I'm not. I'm angry so much of the time. The world is in shambles and everyone just ignores it. Sometimes you have to put on a normal face and be normal even when you don't feel very normal at all. But she just makes me happy. I don't even have to try. What a funny thing. What a beautiful thing.

"Are you going to remember what you came to tell me?" Victoria asks, interrupting my musing. She says it like she doesn't care, but I know she does. Victoria Spring is the type of person that cares about everything and everyone, but she builds up walls to keep her heart safe. I think she's built so many she's forgotten where in the maze she hid her heart in the first place. But I'll offer her a mental hint: it's not as deep as you think it is...

"Maybe." I say. "Maybe tomorrow. We'll see."

I'm lying, of course. But Lucas Ryan is paying far too much attention to our conversation that truly should not be his business, and I don't feel like telling the boy who obviously has a crush on Victoria (he's as subtle as a blimp with the words "I'm in love with you Victoria Spring" landing in her backyard- it is truly remarkable that she doesn't see it) what I came here to tell her.

I walk her home. I learn two things:

She hates her name. Everyone calls her Tori. I understand that.

She does not understand why I would want to be friends with her. I'm not sure why she can't understand that people could genuinely like her. I'm also not sure I genuinely like her, but I think she has a lot of very likeable qualities- again, truly a miracle she doesn't have more friends.

So many things are truly remarkable about this girl. And remarkable is a truly fascinating word- something worth taking note of again and again. Tori Spring is certainly worth taking note of, again and again and again and as many times as needed to convince her that she truly is remarkable.

Michael:

Tori & I are going to get married some day. Since she's the first one I'd want to be with me in the A&E, and I come 2nd on her list after Charlie, and we can't do that legally unless we're married. Also because we're in love. But that's not much of a reason- we'd still be as in love if we were partners forever- it's mostly just practicality.

I think part of it's also just wanting her grandparents to stop bugging her about 'settling down' and 'finding a nice man' and 'what about that Michael lad?'. I don't blame her. When Tori invited me to Spring Thanksgiving (she was going to flee to my place anyway-her words not mine), her nan kept asking me when the wedding was and her Grandfather kept dropping me not-so-subtle threats of murder if I did anything...unsavory with her. I'm not sure how he feels about kissing on top of a burning building after she nearly jumped to her death, but I somehow don't think he'd approve.

Tori:

Michael grins that ridiculous grin of his as he skates off the ice toward me. He's glowing. I love seeing him like this- riding the post race high. With the cameras still trained on him, he takes me in his arms, and kisses me. His skin is cold from the ice but his breath is hot on my lips.

16 year old me would be fake-gagging at those thoughts. I mentally cringe for her, but I'm laughing a little as Michael pulls away and raises an arm for the cameras, me still tucked under his other arm. I tug on a smile for the cameras, and I pinch him lightly. He squeezes me back.

Then he turns to his bags and pulls out a box. It's small, white, and when he lifts the lid there's an even tinier, blue, box. I gasp, shaking my head at him as subtly as I can manage.

I try to say, not here! with my eyes, but he just grins that stupidly handsome grin that makes me kind of want to punch him and kind of want to kiss him. It's not like we haven't discussed this, I even agreed. But here?? Now??

Michael starts to bend down and before I know it...

Michael Holden is on one knee in the middle of this skating rink, with all the cameras a former Olympian usually garners trained on the little blue box with the tiny bow on top in his outstretched hand and the other hand poised to open it. And who's he doing this for? That's right, Victoria Annabel Spring, also known as me.

"Victoria Spring, Tori. I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you." Bullshit- we both know it. But the cameras are eating it up. "Our first kiss was like fire in my soul." No, dear, that was literal fire. "You once dressed up for your best friend's birthday party, and the character you chose was just as wonderful and perfect as you." I am trying so hard not to laugh. "I feel a little bit more like myself when I'm with you, you make me laugh a little harder and smile a little brighter in every moment." I'm blushing now, and it makes me want to vomit a little.

"Tori Spring, will you do me the honor of making me your husband?" He opens the box. And then Michael meets me eyes and his eyes aren't full of all the love in the world like they always say. His eyes aren't gleaming and not a tear is streaming down his face. He's laughing. A little. His eyes are laughing. And I think for a moment that I should be angry at him, but then I'm painfully aware of how long I've let this silence go on.

I fall into him, and at first I think he's surprised but his strong arms are coming up around me and he's standing up. "Yes!" I say, loud enough for the cameras to hear me. "Yes." I whisper again, for his ears only.

"Yes." Michael whispers into my ear.

Yes, I think. Yes.

And then Michael leans into me and whispers, his breath hot on my ear "Tori- the ring is made of cake. We can eat it later, if you like, and then go find ourselves the perfect rings."

I pull away to look at him. I want to be amused but I'm confused and honestly feeling a little high off all of this. I just settle for kissing him.

When we finally pull away, there are cameras and packing up and Michael getting out of that ridiculous skin suit- I swear to God that's going to be in all the photo albums now, that little shit. God, I love him.

And then we're walking along the path to our car, and I lean into him. "Explain to me how the ring-is-cake." I demand.

"I had a guy make a fake wedding ring already in the box out of chocolate. That way we can still have the adorable photos for your family and our own, stress free proposal later. On our terms." Michael isn't looking at me and I think he's worried I'm mad at him. I squeeze his hand and pull him down to look me in the eyes.

"Thank you." I kiss him. How did I end up with a man who would make a fake ring out of cake to fake a proposal in front of cameras so that we had pictures for my relatives? Or- more importantly, how did I end up with someone so wonderfully strange. God, I love him. And I tell him that. And I keep saying it, again and again and again. I'll keep saying it as we pick out our wedding bands and as we promise ourselves to each other till death do we part and I'll keep saying it until the world stops spinning.

"We're both a little broken. We're both a little messy. Who am I kidding- we're both a lot broken and a lot messy. Love won't fix that. A wedding won't fix that. But maybe being together and being broken and messy is easier than being alone and messy." Michael's rambling now and the only thought in my mind is:

God, I love this ridiculous man. Michael.

It's funny because it's true.

#sprolden #michael x tori #tori spring #michael holden #solitaire #alice oseman #solitaire alice oseman #victoria spring #proposal #fake proposal #alternate pov

152 notes · View notes

harmonyandco · 1 year

Text

“Harry, you better take responsibility.”

“What for?”

“When I was on vacation, somehow I got mistaken for a mafia princess. This is your luck infecting me.”

“Right… Will you marry me?”

Both Harry and Hermione are heads in heels in love with each other but think the other doesn’t reciprocate. When Harry asked Hermione to marry him, he wasn’t really serious and Hermione knew he wasn’t really serious, and he knew that she knew, and so on, but she said yes anyway, because, well, it was the closest she was ever going to get. Now the two of them think they’re playing the weirdest game of chicken imaginable, but neither of them can bear being the one to actually break the engagement.

Their friends and family know what’s happening, so they push them to plan the wedding, and go through all the steps. Somehow the idiots manage not to actually talk about what they’re feeling until after saying “I do.”

#submission #harmony prompt #harmony #fake marriage #fake proposal #kinda #marriage #au #funny #oblivious hermione #oblivious harry #johnburtonlee

44 notes · View notes

thegaymaruader · 2 years

Text

An idea

Siruis black & james potter, minor james potter/regulus black.

Word count: 188

________________________________

"Padfoot, I have an idea"

They were in a restruant having some quality time but when they were about to have desert james realized he didn't have enough money.

"What, prongs" siruis replied his eyes filling with mischief.

"So you know when I proposed to reg in this restaurant we got free desert"

"Oh yeah"

James removed the ring from his hand and stood up and went on one knee in front of siruis.

Siruis faked gasped and a lot of people started staring at them.

"Siruis black, will you marry me? " james said trying not to laugh.

"Yes, yes pron- james" siruis said, fake tears rolling out of his eyes.

People started clapping and james went and embraced siruis and kissed him on the temple because fathom kissing his best friend on the lips.

A waitress came up to them.

"Congratulations guys, would you like a cake or an ice cream to celebrate this it will be on us"

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you" james said.

"No problem" the waitress said walking away.

James and siruis grinned in victory and high Fives under the table.

#the maruaders #the marauders era #james fleamont potter #siruis orion black #mauraders #regulus arcturus black #jegulus #james and siruis friendship #friends proposing #fake proposal #prongsfoot #prongs #padfoot #its all platonic i repeat its all p l a t o n i c

29 notes · View notes

gallavich-headcanon · 1 year

Note

so i just saw this post and i can’t help but imagine ian and mickey doing the same thing, only ian takes it a bit too far (both because he enjoys proposing to mickey AND because he enjoys not paying for things)—like the first few times it’s cute and endearing and they happily eat their stolen desserts while making fun of the people clapping and recording videos of the whole thing, but then by the tenth time mickey realizes that ian has gotten too much into this scam of theirs (he got a box, a ring, a different speech prepared every time) and it’s definitely not about the free food anymore, so by the time ian is on one knee in yet another olive garden going “mikhailo, will you make me the happiest man alive—” mickey’s like “ian i don’t even fucking like tiramisù that much. get up”

(or, alternatively, they do it so many times that they forget which restaurants they scammed and end up proposing at the same one and the staff notices and are like uuhhh congrats? again? you don’t get free croquembouche this time though)

HAHAHAHHAHAHA PAOLA!

THIS IS INCREDIBLE !

Ian accidently getting addicted to proposing to Mickey! At first it was for a do-over (third time's a charm and all that) and hopes Mickey would let him get through his speech this time. They get a free dessert and they love it. I think Mickey would make a comment about how dessert tastes better when it's stolen. That's when Ian gets the idea to do this again and again.

I bet at the beginning Mickey likes it because ✨crime kink✨ even if it's a sappy crime. Abd he has a sweet tooth.

Of course Mickey gets sick of it eventually. A because Ian is getting super cheesy with his speeches lately and B he hates it when people stare.

Them getting caught is too funny! I imagine them running away like they did in s3 after Mickey punched Ned hahaha but I think I prefer Mickey telling Ian to "stop doing it or I'm divorcing you. Actually, you know what, Gallagher? if you ask again I'll say no. See what fucking dessert that would get you."

They compromise and Ian would be allowed to propose again for their 25 year anniversary.

#mishervellous #fake proposal #gallavich headcanon #gallavich #gallavich proposal #shameless #ian x mickey

5 notes · View notes

wannabesewcrafty · 2 years

Text

Comeuppance

Fandom: Debris (TV)

Notes: I wrote this awhile back and didn’t really have a title for it until now plus made some more revisions. The basic idea is that Finola brought Bryan to her college reunion... Fill for “46. Giving them little head pats.” From this list by @emswritingprompts

“So...how did you two meet?” Addison’s blue eyes looked innocent in her heart-shaped face, but Finola knew better. The petite woman in front of her had made her life a living hell the years she had gone to university in America.

Before she could answer, Bryan spoke first. “We work together.”

“Oh…so you aren’t…together?” Addison’s left hand went to her hair, touching a blond curl in her updo that didn’t need adjusting, and her diamond engagement ring flashed under the lights of the college gymnasium they were in, the site of Finola’s reunion.

Finola laughed, an airy, bubbly sound. “He’s just being polite. Bryan and I are…very close,” Jones said, giving him an affectionate pat on the head.

“Are you a scientist like ‘No’ here?” Addison asked.

At hearing the nickname, Bryan felt Finola stiffen beside him before he shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

For a moment, the blonde woman frowned, apparently irked at being called “ma’am,” but then her expression cleared. “Where did you get that scar?” she asked, reaching out a finger to trace it along his chin.

He subtly pulled back, just enough to avoid her touch. “I was in the Marines.”

“Oh, my! Well, thank you for your service.” Addison stepped forward, arms open to hug him, but Finola blocked her path and faced Bryan herself.

“Yes, thank you,” his partner echoed. “I don’t say it to you enough.” She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then whispered, “Five minutes,” into his ear before she pulled away. She turned back to face Addison again, who had a bright but fake smile plastered onto her face. “Well,” Finola began, “it was nice seeing you again. We’d better mingle.” Bryan received another pat on the head. “This one has an early meeting tomorrow.”

“It was wonderful to meet you, Bryan. Don’t be a stranger, okay? If you ever want to hear about what ‘No’ was like in college, I can give you my num—“ Finola pulled him out of earshot before Addison had finished.

“Wow. She really did a number on you, didn’t she?” he asked as they weaved their way towards the exit.

“I’d be happy to tell you all about Addison later. Right now, I just want to get out of here.”

“Hang on.” Bryan came to a stop.

She paused and turned back to him with a sigh. “What is it?”

In answer, he simply took her hand in both of his and got down on one knee. People nearby noticed, and someone gasped as others began to whisper. The DJ stopped the music, and all eyes turned to the two agents.

It was Finola’s turn to feel her face redden as she stared at the man on bended knee in front of her.

“I don’t have a ring,” Bryan began, nothing but earnestness on his face and in his voice, “but I can’t wait any longer. Finola Jones…will you marry me?”

With an effort, she lifted her gaze to the crowd of onlookers, her eyes flitting about before they stopped on Addison’s frowning face. She looked back at Bryan and smiled.

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding fervently at him.

Bryan flashed her a smile. He stood back up and they kissed and embraced to the cheers and applause of the crowd.

“Congratulations to the happy couple!” the DJ announced over the sound system as he turned the music back on. People came up to Finola and Bryan, wishing them congratulations and well wishes.

“That was so romantic!” one woman said, brushing a tear away from her eye.

“I wish my partner would do something spontaneous like that!” a man chimed in, giving his companion a pointed look. The other man shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“Well, he’s very good at spontaneity,” Finola admitted, reaching up to give her new fiancé another pat on the head.

They ended up staying for almost an hour as various people came up to talk to Finola and Bryan. Some of them remembered her from school, others pretended they remembered her or admitted it if they did not. “They’ll remember you now,” Bryan muttered after they said goodbye to the last of their well-wishers and finally left the gym.

“Did you see the look on Addie’s face?” Finola crowed as they walked through the parking lot to their car. “Oh, she was so jealous!”

“Can’t wait to hear what happened between you two.”

“She was a bully. You heard that terrible nickname she gave me.” Finola’s lips twisted with a grimace before another thought made her smile again. “Enough about Addison. We need to start planning!”

“Planning what? We aren’t really getting married.” He said this in the safety of the interior of their car.

“We’re going to need to keep up our cover story for the next reunion. So, indoor or outdoor ceremony?”

#my fic #debris nbc #emswritingprompts #bryan x finola #fake dating #fake proposal

3 notes · View notes

malinaa · 1 year

Text

they just don't queerbait like they used to (user is rewatching house md)

#shows #house md #hilson #text #tais toi lys #cant wait for wilson to fake propose to house #*#lys lb: house

1K notes · View notes

overworkedunderwhelmed · 11 months

Photo

“Mind if I sketch?”

Adrien blinked, glancing up at her. “Not at all. We’ve probably both watched this more than once.”

She smiled, her pencil expertly flying across the page.

She hunched over the book but the tension in her shoulders practically melted as soon as his fingers pressed slightly on her skin.

Adrien sat up, dying to see how her sketch came together. She wasn’t exactly hiding the sketchbook, but his father had always been a little fretful about letting anyone see a sketch in progress. “Wouldn’t it help to have it paused?”

“Not with the TV screen so small. Stills can provide a lot of detail, but,” Marinette confided absently, as she continued to sketch, “I want to see how the fabric would move.”

For one tense moment, Adrien’s breath caught in his throat as the flash of a few spots caught his eye.

Why would Marinette care how the fabric moved on Ladybug? Unless…

Unless.

Unless she was making a dress herself.

Or thinking about it very seriously.

Suddenly, Adrien needed to know. His mind raced, struggling to remember every little detail he could about what Marinette had mentioned about her friend who made her dress on their first date.

She had been a little protective about those details. Of course, she had also been pretending to be Kagami…

Thanks to the amazing @xhanisai I now how more lovely art commissioned for The Rules of Engagement!

#miraculous ladybug #ml love square #ml fanart #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #fanart for my fic #ml fanfiction #aged up au #no powers AU #just one bed #fake dating #fake engagement #inspired by business proposal #and about a half dozen other romance in the workplace related webcomics

281 notes · View notes

mishapen-dear · 8 months

Text

“There’s a problem.”

Bad twitches, pausing briefly, but doesn't stop crafting. “What is it?”

“The entity crammer won’t work,” Cellbit says. Bad’s hand crunches suddenly into the mine. He blinks down at it to see that a little red light, blinking sweetly, has been unearthed by the abrupt handling. He uses his thumb to gently push the explosive beneath the surface of the mine once again, smoothing the dirt back over it. He takes in a slow breath.

“We could blow him up with mines.” He knows that won’t work. It’s worth saying, anyway.

“It wouldn’t be fast enough.” Bad can hear movement behind him as Cellbit shifts on his feet. Bad keeps his ears perked for any sudden movements, but keeps his back turned as he works. If Cellbit suddenly turns against him... well. He isn’t going to just walk into a cage trap this time. “He has too many totems. We need another plan.”

There is another plan- this would be the perfect time to mention it, but the words stay locked behind Bad’s teeth. It would be so easy. All he would need is someone to keep Forever distracted while he sets up the scanner somewhere unavoidable, and then Forever would just need to walk through it, and that would be that. But that would be that for Bad, too. The scanner can take everything from Forever. The scanner can take everything from Bad. His warpstone and his enderpearls and his chorus fruit and his totems and his scythe- no, it’s not worth it. Bad remembers the cage. He remembers how quickly everyone turned on him. They’ve proved how much he can’t trust them with this.

He needs to find his kids, first. Then, maybe, he’ll let them know about the scanner. Then, if they really, truly, cannot find anything else... Then. It might be worth it then. For Forever.

Bad promises, “We’ll think of something,” and he crafts another explosive.

–

They think of mines. They think of the slingshot. They think of mobs. They think of everything.

It isn’t enough. Forever has so many totems that no plan is good enough, and they’re running out of time. Whatever they do, whenever they do it, it has to work, and it has to work fast. Forever on the Risus pills is very happy, and a little dumb, but he isn’t stupid- if he figures out that they’re trying to take the pills from him… Bad doesn’t want to think about it. But every new plan is just another dead end and a fresh headache, and they’re running out of time.

So- he does what he has to do.

One night, only a few days after Bad and Cellbit had their conversation about the entity crammer, Forever leads Bad to the beach. On the sand is a lonely little picnic blanket, red, surrounded by red candles and bunches of roses. Wine and crepes and a chicken dinner. Bad asks if the blanket’s wool was stolen from his base, Forever laughs and says no. The stars twinkle mournfully down at them; the waves mute their voices; the sand is so, so soft. Forever doesn’t stop smiling.

The candles are too dim to light them well, but the ring gleams in the moonlight. Forever holds it out to him, beaming, and Bad’s blood is rushing in his ears so thunderously that even as he sees Forever’s lips move he can’t hear the question over all this noise.

It doesn’t matter- Bad knows the answer.

He says yes.

It’s easy to play fiance. It’s so easy. Bad sits on his bed all day, spinning the Sunshine Protector over and over in his hands, and wonders if the world has always looked so dim. There is always a weight in his chest and a lump in his throat, and it feels like if he doesn’t move he’ll combust but he barely has the energy to stand. Most of the time, he feels stuck in standby. He can’t look for his children, because Forever gets agitated if Bad isn’t home when he gets home, and that’s against the whole point, isn’t it? The point to keep Forever happy. Keep him pliant. Pliable. Easy to worm into his heart so Bad can rip it open from the inside out.

It’s hard.

He’s just… he’s sad.

He’s angry, too. It sits below the surface of his soul, buzzing. He wants to scream. He wants to tear. Whenever Forever smiles at him Bad wants to chew his face off with his teeth. But Bad has a job to do, and he needs to stay reasonable to do it. He’s gone wild before- he knows what happens. He knows he needs to cling to his own leash with both hands and never let go. But Dapper is gone, and Pomme is gone, and there is a ring on his finger -not even diamond- and Forever is always smiling.

It’s the pills’ fault. Bad knows it’s the pills’ fault. He still wishes that Forever would try to kill him again. That would make everything very, very simple, very, very quickly.

But then the plan would be ruined, because Forever has so many totems that he could escape, and Bad-

Well, by that point, Bad would probably be a little ruined, too.

The door slams in the other room. He goes still, then stands. He can hear his fiance calling for him. “Bad!” Forever. He sounds cheerful. Happy. “Meu docinho de côco! I’m home!”

Bad expertly pulls cheer into his own voice. There are many things he is good at, and one of those things is lying. “Forever!” he calls back, and exits the room with the Sunshine Protector still in his hands. Forever, as always, doesn’t seem to notice. He perks up at the sight of Bad, like a golden retriever whose owner has just stepped in through the door. His perpetual grin is still on his face, being perpetual. There’s a wide, almost wild joy in his eyes; his happiness is tacky, like hard-candy drizzled left in the sun and then drizzled with syrup.

“Bad!” Forever cheers again, laughing. His white suit is perfect, the Brazilian flag pinned neatly across his shoulder. Every day, when he comes home, Bad looks for blood. As always, he finds none. Forever bounds over to take Bad in his arms and spins them both, as if they’re lovers long-apart finally reunited after a dangerous sea-bound journey. Forever leans in, quick, for a kiss.

There is a game they like to play. Bad doesn’t know if it’s a game for Forever, but it is a game for him. Since their engagement, Forever has gotten more bold with taking his pills in front of Bad- he’s gotten more bold in trying to get Bad to take them with him. Bad has only ever accepted kisses from Forever on his nose, cheek, and forehead- even before he saw Forever, moments before trying to catch his lips again, slip a pill between his teeth.

The game goes like this: Forever attempts to -literally- kiss Bad into oblivion; Bad dodges.

This scene plays out like all the ones before it. Bad turns his head to the side just in time, and Forever, undaunted by yet another failure, presses an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek instead of his lips. His free hand is on Bad’s other cheek, pressing their faces together with unfiltered affection. His hand is warm, and a little rough with hard-earned calluses, and his beard tickles Bad’s skin. His breath fans hot across Bad’s cheek.

He’s so happy.

Bad has never lost their game, but he thinks about it sometimes. Even if Forever managed to get a pill into his mouth, there’s nothing that would force him to swallow. But there’s nothing that would force him to spit it out, either… And then he holds onto the Sunshine Protector even more tightly and he messages Phil or Cellbit about whatever mass-murder attempt they’re thinking about trying next, at least until he can think about anything other than- that. They’ve gotten Etoiles in on it, recently, and any day now they’ll come up with a solution. They have to.

For now, Bad wraps his arms around Forever when he pulls back, grip loose, and plays his part by not stabbing him. “Hi, Forever!” he chirps. The enthusiasm feels wrong, but if he tried to pull up fondness he thinks he would just pull up bile instead. Maybe he should. Maybe he should spit acid into Forever’s face and see if that will kill his smile, make him angry, make them fight, just like they used to. He wants, more than almost-anything, to see Forever snarl. As a precaution to unfiltered impulses, Bad flicks his wrist and sends the Sunshine Protector back into his inventory.

“Hi, Bad!” There’s a flash of the pill between Forever’s teeth, sparking white hidden in his smile, and then he swallows audibly. Nothing happens for a moment, and then his eyes dilate, he starts to shake, and his grin widens far enough to show all of his teeth. Forever’s trembles turn almost violent, every other breath catching on a giggle. He falls against Bad, his weight pressing heavily into his fiance as the drug makes its way through his system. His hand goes from Bad’s cheek to his hair, pulling hard and clinging to it like a lifeline. His totem-hand digs painfully into Bad’s side. Bad just tightens his grip, and holds.

It never lasts for long. Soon, the two are left standing in an almost-peaceful embrace, with Bad’s arms wrapped securely around Forever and Forever’s cheek pressed against Bad’s shoulder. Forever’s shoulders are relaxed; his back open; his neck bared. If Bad’s leash were looser, he could lean down and tear his throat open with little more than teeth.

His head stings where Forever pulled his hair too hard.

Bad’s voice comes out too soft when he asks, “How was your day?”

“Oh,” Forever sighs. “Perfect, just perfect…” He nuzzles his face into Bad’s shoulder, the scruff of his beard making little scrtch scrtch sounds against the fabric of Bad’s robes. “But it’s even better now that I’m here with you.” Bad’s heart twinges. “And I’m going to go see Richarlyson when he wakes up,” Bad’s heart weeps. “Do you want to come with me?”

His tongue is like lead in his mouth. “Sure.”

Forever beams again. He squirms, and Bad lets him go. Forever doesn’t pay him any mind, just wanders over to the nearest mirror to peer at his own face. There’s scrutiny in his expression- Bad almost feels hopeful, and then Forever asks, “What do you think of my beard, Bad?”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re too nice to me, Badboy,” Forever scolds brightly. He’s still watching himself in the mirror. There’s a glaze over his eyes, almost fevered. “I want to look nice for our wedding.”

Bad’s stomach swoops. “Well-” he starts, scrabbling for yet another reason to delay it. He needs to wash his hair? No, he used that last time-

Forever derails all of Bad’s excuses by not mentioning a date, and instead saying, “Can you help me shave?”

Bad freezes. “What?”

“My face, Bad,” Forever insists, grin blinding as he turns towards him. “My beard. O cabelo do meu rosto.”

“I know what a beard is,” Bad snaps suddenly, sharper than he intended.

Forever’s smile twitches. “Great! So you’ll help me? Por favor, meu anjo?”

Give and take, don’t push too far. He’s here to stall for time, not to fight. The further he pushes Forever, the less he can control him. Bad takes a deep, slow breath, and shoves the anger back down. “...Okay.”

Forever beams.

–

That’s how the two of them end up in the bathroom, Bad sitting on the counter as he watches Forever meticulously craft the supplies. Bad had offered one of his own (many) blades for the procedure, but Forever’s grin had just grown wider as he shook his head and shuffled Bad into the bathroom.

It’s cramped in there, both of them in their full gear. Bad watches Forever mix the shaving cream, golden totem glittering in his palm as he awkwardly holds the bottle still. There’s a faint rushing in Bad’s ears. The knife is already prepped, laying on a warm, damp towel on the other side of Forever, furthest away from Bad.

His eyes keep going back to that totem. The rushing in his ears grows slowly in volume, until he thinks that he’s never going to hear anything else ever again. Bad is holding a totem, too. A totem of death, darker in colour and promising more pain. It’s not as good as a totem of undying but, as long as he holds it, he doesn’t need anyone to pull him up after a fall. The both of them, holding totems.

He’s surprised when he hears himself say, “Forever?”

Forever hums a curious noise. “Yes, meu xuxu?”

Bad swallows hard. He doesn’t know where this is going, but he has a feeling, and over a dozen code attacks have taught him to trust when he gets a feeling. Carefully, he gives voice to the thought that’s been nagging him, “I need both hands to shave you.”

“Okay!” Forever agrees, unphased.

“Forever,” Bad says. “I need to stop holding my totem.”

Forever doesn’t- falter, but he twitches, a little hiccup in whatever happy little daydream he’s been living in. “Don’t you trust me, Badboy?”

Bad thinks about the mines. He thinks about explosion after explosion after explosion at the end of a disastrous proposal. Bad licks his lips. “It’s not… about trust,” he says, words cautiously measured. He’s not the one on drugs, but he feels like vibrating from knotted-up anticipation. “You know I’ve been here a while. You know it was… hard. Even before the code. I’m…” Forever looks up at him. “I need your help.”

Forever cocks his head to the side, still smiling. “My help?”

Bad bites his lip, then, and doesn’t miss the way that Forever’s eyes train in on his mouth. “Yeah,” he says, warming to the lie. “Yeah. I need your help.” He starts unbuckling his chestplate.

Forever freezes, mouth falling open. “Badboy?” he says, voice a little tremulous. It almost sounds like him. Bad is embolded into continuing.

“You’re in danger, Forever,” Bad says, and oops- too true. He drops his chestplate into one of his backpacks, then continues, “As president, I mean. Not everyone loves the Federation. The code, political enemies- they all want to hurt you.”

“Political enemies,” Forever echoes with a laugh, and Bad feels something rush through him at the almost sardonic look Forever gives him.

Bad smiles back at him, letting it come out a little nervous. One by one, he removes the rest of his armour. Pants. Boots. His hands are shaking by the time he removes his helmet and drops it into the backpack. “I know what it’s like. That… worry. Even with your loved ones. So I don’t- I don’t want to scare you, Forever, but I want you to put your totem down, too.”

Forever keeps grinning. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” There’s a sharpness to his voice, a grated edge that just promises more shouting and more pills. A risk of him running off, escaping, and Bad can’t lose this opportunity now that he’s got it. But Forever is stubborn, and this isn’t enough, so…

Fudge. Okay. He’s committed now; he has to keep going. Bad takes out the Sunshine Protector just to obviously, visibly, tuck that away into his weapons bag. Anything, anything, he has to remember he’ll do anything. He starts piling the rest of his inventory into his backpacks.

“...Meu anjo? What are you doing?”

“I want to- to help you, Forever,” Bad promises. He feels so naked. He’s fully clothed. He has no armour, and his hotbar has no weapon to defend himself from the man who tried to kill him only days before. It- he exists in a strange state of limbo. It doesn’t matter how killable he is, because he can always respawn. What is death to a grim reaper? What is death to an immortal? What is death to a grieving parent? But- still. There’s a vulnerability to packing away his weapons, his armour, his things. All of his prep made obsolete, no scanner involved at all. “But I can’t- if you’re holding a totem, I need to hold a totem, see? But you want to hold a totem in our house, which is totally safe, for the same reasons I do. So, if- if you’re the most powerful player around, maybe- maybe you can put it down. For a little bit.” Bad puts the death totem into the bag, and closes it with finality.

Forever is quiet. His smile looks hollow now.

Anything, anything, anything. Bad hops off of the counter and throws his backpacks into the tub, out of reach, and draws the curtain for good measure. Forever’s eyes follow the arc of his hand. “There,” Bad pants, and turns around again. He stands there, bared but fully clothed, vulnerable in a way he hasn’t been since- since- since some point he can’t even remember. “Now I’m- it’s up to you to protect me.” Bad wants Forever to try to kill him. “Now- now it’s your turn.”

“Bad…” Forever says, his voice softer than Bad has heard in… a while. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Bad’s heart drops. He’s so close. He’s so far. The rushing in his ears is so loud. He wants to bite, and claw, and hurt. He wants to dig his claws into Forever’s skin and- “I’ll let you kiss me,” Bad blurts, the promise tumbling all at once from his mouth like a badly-kept secret. “Once I’m done shaving you. Just- please, Forever. You know what it’s like. Please. Don’t you trust me?”

Forever cracks.

Bad’s breath catches when Forever pulls out his backpack -the one with the totems. Forever’s knuckles are white where his hands grip around the straps, but he places the backpack carefully outside the bathroom door before he steps away again. He looks jittery already, like a wild animal, and brandishes the totem still in his hand at Bad like a cross.

“I’m keeping this one,” he says, and his grin looks painful. “I’m- this one, I’m holding onto this one. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bad agrees, breathless. There is a lump in his throat. It’s hard to keep his hands still. Is he shaking? He might be shaking. Forever only has one totem. Bad has nothing. Forever has one totem.

Forever picks up the towel and the shaving knife with one hand, then carries them over. He holds them out. Bad takes them- the blade he accepts by its sharpest point, but he’s careful not to bleed. “Okay,” Forever whispers. Then, too quick, almost desperate, he takes out his bottle and gulps down another pill. He stumbles to the chair as the shakes start to wreck him, almost toppling over before he snatches onto the chair’s back to steady himself. Bad, still holding the knife, does nothing to help.

Forever manages to climb into the chair just as the trembles subside. He slumps back with a loud, satisfied sigh, like he’s just completed some great feat. He tilts his head back to look at Bad upside-down, his relaxation a stark contrast to the tension from just a moment before. He smiles dreamily up at his fiance, and it almost even reaches his (dilated, too wide) eyes.

“Oh, Badboy,” he sighs happily. “Come on, come on! We’re all ready now, aren’t we?”

Bad can very clearly see the column of Forever’s throat, stretched out and vulnerable. “Yeah.” Bad’s chest feels tight. He steps up behind the chair and looks down- Forever’s throat is right there. It’s a nice throat. Bad thinks it would be easy to fit both hands around it. He starts with just one hand. The damp towel is wiped gently over Forever’s mouth and jaw, then down over his neck. He does it again, preparing the skin for the sharp edge of the blade.

Forever hums quietly, appreciatively. He closes his eyes, and Bad’s blood sings.

An open neck. An ignorant victim. A single totem. It doesn’t matter how empty Bad’s inventory is- he has a knife, handed to him by Forever himself. Bad should stab him now. Two quick slices to the throat, a spray of blood, and a fresh corpse. It’s what Bad would have done before- but. He’s tense. There’s a stiffness to his muscles, and he doesn’t have armour. What if he misses? They’re so close together, it’s impossible to miss.

There’s something almost… ritualistic about a good shave, anyway.. Bad can’t put the blade to his throat, not yet. Forever will know if he starts too soon. He has no armour. He needs to do this right. The shaving knife disappears into his hotbar.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Bad murmurs. He gently runs the towel along the bottom of Forever’s jaw, almost holding his mouth shut, but the president doesn’t seem to be bothered. Eyes still closed, he just makes a peaceful little humming noise. Bad moves the towel up a little higher- it hides the smile. It hides the smile, so Bad takes a moment to just… look. His stomach flips. Yeah, that’s Forever. That’s him. His lashes rest delicately against his skin, eyes shut and face smoothed into something peaceful. His hair has fallen into disarray, strands loose across his forehead, and Bad gingerly brushes them away.

He could lift the towel higher. It’s already over Forever’s mouth, and it could go over Forever’s nose, too. Bad could press down- or topple the chair, first, maybe, leave Forever falling into him as Bad suffocates him. Although- it would be difficult, but Forever could probably get a few good cuts into Bad before he suffocates, armourless as Bad is. But, then again, damp cloth is even better for a suffocation. Bad doesn’t think it matters if the towel is damp from water or from blood. Maybe he’d be able to keep the towel pressed down until he bled out. Maybe he’d die before Forever would; maybe he would fall across Forever and trap him beneath the wet cloth and the weight of his limp body, forcing the president to drown on the blood of his own fiance. Wouldn’t that be perfect?

No. Too risky. It’s too risky. Forever still has all of his items. If he puts down a sponge and hits Bad hard enough, he’ll be able to get away before either of them could die. If Bad screws this up, he will never get a chance like this ever again. He has to be smart.

So- cream, next, it’s shaving cream, next. Bad steps away as he throws the towel into his hotbar, then grabs the bottle and returns to Forever’s side. “How did you learn?” Forever asks. Bad pauses a moment to realize what Forever’s asking, then laughs a little lowly.

“I owned a pie shop, once,” he says. He pours the mixture into his hands to lather it. “I rented out the top floor to a barber. He was nice. Showed me a few things. Let me try a few things out with his clients.”

Forever’s brows raise. “‘Try a few things out with his clients?’” he echoes. He’s -of course- still smiling, but there’s a note in his voice that Bad can’t read.

“Yeah! Pies,” Bad explains. His heart twinges at the thought of simpler times. “They were pretty good. Now keep your mouth closed, Forever, or you’ll get foam in it.”

Forever acquieses, but he purses his lips playfully until Bad gets his hands on his face. Once upon a time, when Bad first arrived on the island, his claws were sharp enough that he’d needed to wear gloves at night, just so he wouldn’t accidentally cut himself in his sleep. And then there were the eggs. Ever since Dapper arrived, Bad has taken a day out of every month to file his fingers down to dull, harmless nubs. Swords could do all of the cutting he needed, and what would he do if he poked Dapper too hard and ended up cracking him? He couldn’t bear the thought.

But now. Bad uses the pads of his fingers to lather Forever’s face. If his claws were longer, they could gouge deep, bleeding ruts into his skin. As they are now, though, they do nothing more than scratch lightly over the stubble. At the worst, they leave a thin white line where they scrape over Forever’s actual skin.

In a moment of weakness, Bad swipes his dulled thumb under Forever’s eye, imagining the red tears that would bloom from the wound. Forever won’t cry over their lost eggs, but Bad could make him.

Bad swipes his thumb again, pressing the pad of his thumb down with just enough force to feel at the edge of bone that gives way to eye socket. It’s an almost tender gesture, and Forever’s skin is soft. But Forever makes a little noise and Bad jolts, jerking his hand back. He swallows quickly, then wastes no more time in getting back to work. He lathers Forever’s jaw, his cheeks, around his mouth, a little way down his neck- he’s quick, and efficient, and doesn’t linger. And then… and then there’s nothing for Bad to do but wash his hands, and grab the knife.

The shaving knife feels heavier. It falls into his hand from his hotbar with a solid weight. Inventories keep most items in the same state they were stored in, so the handle is still warm from Forever’s hands.

Bad hand is steady when he puts it to Forever’s neck.

His breath comes quicker, the rushing sound loud in his ears. Forever’s skin is warm and soft under his hand.

Forever hums. His skin flutters beneath the blade. His eyes are still closed, his smile is wide. “What’s your favourite type of flower?” he asks.

Bad hesitates for long enough that Forever opens his eyes to look at him. Bad swallows and doesn’t meet his gaze. He makes up for his hesitation by drawing the blade slowly up Forever’s neck, just an inch, and then summons the towel from his hotbar to wipe the shaving cream from the knife. “...Cornflowers,” he answers quietly. “Cornflowers are my favourite.”

“Ah, cornflowers,” Forever sighs happily, smiling widely up at Bad again. Bad keeps his eyes pinned to Forever’s neck and draws the blade across a fresh patch of skin. “Those are the blue ones, right?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re nice.” Forever hums. Bad puts the blade to his neck again, but then Forever keeps talking. “I think they will look nice in our wedding. We can have flower eggs! Imagine them, Badboy, all of them in their cute little outfits, throwing cornflowers around.”

Ow. He can see it so clearly, too. His little eggs all dressed up and covered in flowers as they march down the aisle… smiling. Happy. Bad swallows hard.

“I think the colours should be all black and blue,” Forever says, and shuts his eyes again. “And then you can stand out all pretty with your black and red, Bad. Will you wear your hair down again?”

“...Maybe,” Bad says quietly. “Now shhhh, Forever… I need you to hold still, and stop smiling.” Black and blue… He felt stuck on that. Black and blue. Like a bruise.

“Stop smiling?” Forever giggles. “But there’s so much to be happy about, meu anjo!”

“Are you sure?”

Forever opens his eyes to look up at Bad again. Bad looks back at him. The knife drifts upwards, slow, to press against Forever’s pulse. Bad’s hand is already slippery from the cold shaving cream, but he knows that the blood will be warm. He twitches when something warm touches his face- and he realizes, abruptly, that Forever’s hand has lifted up to tenderly cup his face. “Yeah,” Forever says, smiling.

Bad’s hand is shaking. Not a lot- not enough to cut, but enough for him to notice. They’re close. How long has Bad been leaning in? He presses the knife more firmly against Forever’s artery, but he doesn’t slice. “Stop. smiling,” he hisses. The words feel like grit spat from his mouth.

Forever’s thumb caresses the skin just beneath Bad’s eye, a mockery of the purely violent gesture Bad had subjected him to just moments before. Bad flushes hot in- in anger, or something else, but definitely with some anger, and then- and then Forever says, “Okay,” and he stops smiling. He closes his eyes again and leans back -Bad is startled to realize Forever had been leaning up towards him too- ultimately taking the blade away from his own neck, and he stops smiling. His hand falls away from Bad’s cheek, but it falls to lightly rest on the wrist of the hand that’s holding the towel.

Bad is quiet for a long, long moment, just staring down at his broken fiance. And then- and then he gets back to work.

The knife glides easily across Forever’s skin, shaving away the fine hairs of his beard. Bad is out of practice, but not so out of practice that he makes Forever bleed. When he moves on from Forever’s neck he has to lay the towel down so both hands are free to manipulate Forever’s face. He carefully pulls the skin taut where necessary, and only presses his dull nails down too hard once or twice. Forever sits peaceful and blank faced through it all.

And then-

And then it’s done.

Bad turns Forever’s head to one side, and then the other, and he barely has it in him to pretend he’s inspecting him for any missed spots. And then he lets go, and he steps back. The knife hangs almost limply in his hand.

It’s when Forever is grinning again, standing now and inspecting his own face in the mirror, that Bad asks, “Is it nice? Being happy?”

“What?” Forever turns to him, smile a little puzzled. His eyes are downright twinkling with fevered joy.

“Is it nice?”

“Yeah! You did a really good job, Badboy!” Forever praises. Bad’s traitorous heart leaps at the rare praise. Forever bounds the half-step over to swoop Bad into his arms and spin them, the two of them almost knocking over thr chair in the small space. Bad clings to him, and the single totem digs painfully into Bad’s side.

“Forever, that’s not what I asked,” Bad insists almost even before they come to a stop. He feels lightheaded. “Do you like being happy?”

“Yeah!” Forever chirps. “I’m with you, aren’t I?” And he leans in. When he kisses him, Bad doesn’t dodge.

Forever is so warm. His lips are soft and the kiss is so tender, gentle like Bad is a wild animal who might be frightened off at the first wrong move. Forever’s hand comes up to cup the back of Bad’s head, the other arm wrapping itself around his waist. Bad is pliant, and he doesn’t kiss him back, but his arms wrap around Forever and pulls him in closer. Their bodies are flush together with no room for even air between them, and Bad thinks that if he focuses hard enough he could feel Forever’s heart beat against his own. He splays one hand across Forever’s shoulderblades, pressing hard to pin him close, and he uses the other hand, the one with the knife, to stab Forever in the back six times over in quick succession.

Blood sprays on the mirror behind them. Blood coats Bad’s hand. There’s heat at Bad’s back as the totem pops! and the room is filled with a stinging, magical shower of green and golden sparks- his ears ring from the minor explosion. Forever gasps into Bad’s mouth, and he tastes like iron. The knife was deep in his back when Forever’s heart stopped- the skin is already healing over it, so Bad holds on tighter and rips the blade out.

Forever gets pulled back violently with the knife- their lips are disconnected with a slick sound that makes Bad’s head spin. “Bad?” Forever gasps. His eyes are wide, but not with joyous fever- with shock. It’s a good look. “You- you stabbed me?”

“I did.” There’s something wrong with Bad’s brain, some wires that must have been crossed on a bad respawn because he’s dizzy, he’s too-warm, he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin- he’s grabbing Forever by his hair and forcing his head down to kiss him.

There must be some wires crossed in Forever’s brain, too, because he kisses him back. It’s not tender or gentle- it’s a fight, just another battle that both of them are too stubborn to lose. Their teeth clack together and it’s awful and Bad’s blood sings. Forever tastes like his own blood and Bad bites his lip, hard, just to taste more. Forever gasps into his mouth, faltering, and Bad presses his advantage.

He shoves Forever backwards, towards the wall, stumbling forwards with him so they don’t separate more than a few inches apart. Forever makes a shuddery keening noise when his back hits the stone- and Bad knows it’s not just from pain, but he thinks it’s mostly from pain, because the knife had been between Forever’s back and the wall and now it’s been aquainted once again with Forever’s flesh. Bad pants hard, and it’s Forever who drags Bad closer and catches his mouth again.

There’s so much blood.

And then, suddenly, the blood is all that’s left.

[[PRESIDENT]Forever was slain by BadBoyHalo]

The shaving knife clatters into the ground as Bad falls into the space where Forever’s body once was. He catches himself on the wall, startled enough to stop breathing. There, on the ground, is the knife, shining wetly in the too-bright light of the bathroom. Next to it is a small pack that’s left behind after each player’s death- the remains of Forever’s inventory. Bad’s ultimate prize.

Bad is frozen for a moment. He’s vaguely aware of more chat messages coming in at a rapidfire pace- Cellbit, maybe, and Philza, and Etoiles and whoever else is awake right now, but he doesn’t look at any of them. He falls to his knees instead which are promptly stained by the bright-red mess across the floor. He finds out that doesn’t care- nor does he care when he stains the pack when he scrabbles for it, and and he doesn’t care when he stains the inventory items when he rummages, and he doesn’t care when he stains the pill bottle when his hand finally clasps around it.

He stares at Cucurucho’s smiling face on the too-white bottle, surrounded by smudges of red, then wipes his dirty thumb across its eyes to blind it with even more bloody smears. The bottle gets thrown into his inventory, then- the briefcase, right Forever had a briefcase, too, Bad needs to grab that, and-

and then that’s it.

That’s it.

Mechanically, Bad pushes himself to his feet. He leaves the shaving knife where it is. He gets dressed in his armour, gathers up all of his backpacks, and then he goes home.

He gets changed. He lays down in Dapper’s room, curled up on the floor next to Dapper’s empty bed. He holds the Sunshine Protector with both hands, closes his eyes, and tries to sleep. Bad doesn’t sleep. Bad also doesn’t answer any messages until morning, and maybe that can count as rest.

His mouth still tastes like blood.