Tumgik
#lol date me
zephyrchama · 18 days
Text
[Thoughts about an MC who gets periods]
Getting periods in the Devildom must be pretty rough. Demons probably don’t get them, and the number of humans freely wandering around has to be incredibly low. If MC takes the form of a sheep then they likely don't have to deal with it immediately, but eventually that's going to wear off and they'll revert back to a human. Does the Devildom even have pads and tampons for sale?
MC might have to sheepishly ask Barbatos if he can acquire some in bulk from the human world. Barbatos would remain professional as always when inquiring about the use of these products and their role in daily life. He'd have to report it to the prince. They're both aware of what periods are, but only in a vague "oh yeah, humans do that" kind of way. (Perhaps in the future, Lucifer could use his secret Akuzon account to order more?)
There's surely some plant or potion that prevents them, but they're not meant for long term use. Probably tastes nasty over time and covers human skin in a weird oozing rash if consumed too often.
A month or two into the exchange program, MC might have to call up Solomon for aid.
---
“Can you help me with something?”
Solomon, not too interested in MC yet, agrees just to be amicable with his fellow human exchange student. They must be scared! They must be missing humans! “Is something on your mind?”
“You know how to do magic, right?”
What a silly question. It’s almost refreshing to hear. “I do.”
“Do you know… like, uh, smell…? Reducing magic? Something to cover up smells? Without being obvious, I mean. I feel like I stink and I was really hoping you could help me figure something out.”
How cute, he thinks. He can’t quite remember the time when he smelled fully human anymore, and he can’t really smell the distinct odor on people that demons can, but he knows demons can easily sniff out a human from afar. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It should go away on its own as you spend time here.”
MC isn’t convinced. “I don’t think it will…”
“Trust me. How are you finding Devildom cuisine? I know you’re not used to it, but eating more will help you adjust. I can whip up a few simpler dishes for you to try if you need help.”
MC is silent for a bit. Solomon thinks his job is done until they say quietly, “that’s not the problem.”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure the brothers I live with can smell, uh, my cycle.” No use being coy about it, better get straight to the point. “They stare at me when I’m on my period. I think - no, I know - they can smell the blood. I’ve seen them sniff the air when I’m around. It's weird. And I can’t exactly stop it from happening every month.”
“Oh.” Now it’s Solomon’s turn to be quiet. He’s embarrassed and surprised, a little humbled, and also really interested in this problem. It’s not something he’s ever thought about before.
MC continues, “I think they can tell when I’m ovulating too, Asmo started lingering around more often, and Lucifer looked scarier than usual, and they all stare more, and-”
“I think I get it.” Solomon can’t stop his face from turning pink. Despite his usual grin, he doesn't think he’s ready to listen to the rest of MC’s sentence.
There should be an easy solution, but it’s something that warrants testing if MC doesn’t want the brothers noticing a sudden spell cast upon them. It could get mistaken for something malicious. Solomon says, “I might be able to help. Can you come over today?”
2K notes · View notes
noodles-and-tea · 1 month
Text
Woodworms…
3K notes · View notes
buppkizz · 9 months
Text
a very small engiespy moment...
Tumblr media Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
inkskinned · 10 months
Text
you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.
you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.
he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.
a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.
he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.
you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.
people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.
wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.
also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.
he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."
you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.
"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."
he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.
you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.
is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?
you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.
3K notes · View notes
misc-obeyme · 6 months
Text
MC: Hey, Barbatos. Can you stop time?
Barbatos: Why do you ask?
MC: I’m exhausted and I really need to take a nap for a few hours, but I have too much going on.
Barbatos: I fear it would be quite irresponsible of me to stop the flow of time so that you may nap, MC.
MC: What if you took a nap with me?
Barbatos: I am not Belphegor. I’m afraid that tactic will not work on me.
MC: *sighing in disappointment* Okay. I'll ask Solomon. He might know a spell or something. And he'll definitely agree to nap with me.
Barbatos: …
Moments later, Barbatos found himself in his bed with MC cuddled up against him, snoozing peacefully. He mentally scolded himself for giving in so easily while his arms and tail tightened around MC protectively.
Tumblr media
masterlist | Thank you for reading!
2K notes · View notes
astaroth1357 · 6 months
Text
Mask Off, Nerd Out:
*all of the brothers have just finished a family dinner with MC. The food was nice, but their human has been oddly quiet throughout the whole meal. As the finished plates are getting stacked up, they shoot each other worried glances*
Mammon: *whispers to Satan* Hey, have they being actin' kinda weird to you...?
Satan: *whispers back* So you've noticed...?
Asmo: *comes up behind Satan and joins* Did anyone upset them today? Like you, Mammon?
Mammon: Hey, it wasn't me...!
*while those three keep whispering, Beel comes over to collect MC's plate. They've been sp checked out that they've barely touched their food at all, they just keep bouncing their leg under the table*
Beel: MC? ... Are you going to finish that?
*his question makes MC snap awake briefly, turning to look at him like a deer in headlights before shaking their head*
MC: N-no! No, uh... I'm fine. Go ahead, Beel.
*they push the plate towards him before going back to staring at the table blankly. Beel eats their forgotten meal, but frowns at them between bites*
Beel: Really-mmphhg-? Are you-*gulp*-sure?
MC: *bounces their leg more rapidly, nodding* Yep. Yep. Totally fine!....
*Mammon finally steps away from Satan and Asmo and nudges Beel to the side*
Mammon: Are ya really sure? 'Cause you don't look fine...
MC: *continues to stare at the table like they're mentally screaming inside, at this point nearly vibrating at an atomic level*
MC: Yep, uhm-hm, all fine, totally good!
*Mammon's about to pull their chair back from the table, but Levi suddenly jumps in between them. For once, the timid otaku looks actually confident about something. Damn near certain in fact!*
Levi: Don't worry, I got this. Leave it to me!
Levi: *takes a seat next to MC*
Levi: MC. Is there something you're hoping to talk about right now?
*MC nearly breaks their neck with how quick they turn to face him, eyes locked on and body finally going still. Slowly... an ecstatic grin starts to brighten their face*
MC: Ohmygod,soIjuststartedthismanga,right,aboutaworldwerepeoplesometimesturnintothesemonsterscalledChoujinandthemaincharacterislike-
*MC keeps talking a mile a minute while Levi nods along happily and the other brothers look at them like they're aliens, but also seem visibly relieved...*
Mammon: Ah. They just had to nerd out, I guess...
1K notes · View notes
Which one's your favorite flavor?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
kobrafangs · 20 days
Text
Tumblr media
something something jaya something forget me nots
741 notes · View notes
notcreative360 · 19 days
Text
Mammon: *Finds Barbatos laying down on the sofa, with a blanket on* What the fu-
MC: He found a rat in the kitchen, and came here to crash for the night without even asking..
Mammon: And you're just gonna let him!?
MC: Yes.
958 notes · View notes
k-wame · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
So what's Gaelic Football? via ►YouTube CHICKEN SHOP DATE with Amelia Dimoldenberg
1K notes · View notes
666cosmicmango · 14 days
Text
What is your soul made of? Beauty. And what is beauty? Terror.
A belated art for Asmodeus' birthday. 💕
Individual arts below the cut --
Tumblr media Tumblr media
467 notes · View notes
sp0o0kylights · 8 months
Text
Part One
The drive's short one. 
Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.
What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?
(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  
"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  
"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.
"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"
"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 
"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 
Of course they were.
"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 
"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 
"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.
Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 
"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.
"What?" 
"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 
"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.
"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  
"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 
If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 
"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 
"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 
He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 
Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 
"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"
"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 
Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 
"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 
Steve pauses. 
Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  
"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.
Hook, line, sinker.
Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 
"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 
Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.
The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 
That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.
xXx
Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 
She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--
But she also can't tell him she loves him.
So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.
 Play’s more basketball.
It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.
That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…
He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.
 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 
He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.
That he should let her. 
Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 
She wants to be let go.
So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.
(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.
Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.
It's--something.
But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.
It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )
xXx
"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 
"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 
One, giant, never ending bruise. 
"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 
If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 
"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 
The same one he's already getting looks for. 
"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."
The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 
"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 
Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.
The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 
(He had not gone to a hospital. 
None of them had.)  
"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.
Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.
 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 
Just older, and with slightly better hair. 
"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 
He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 
"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 
The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 
"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.
(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 
It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 
"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"
"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 
See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 
They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 
(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 
"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 
"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 
Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 
Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:
 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 
Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 
Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.
The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 
"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 
"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 
"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 
It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 
The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 
xXx
College rejection letters come in, one after the another.
Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.
Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.
Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 
It's not that bad. 
Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  
He figures he has time to win her over. 
All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.
Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 
It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 
‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 
Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.
Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 
(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 
When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 
Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 
That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.
That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.
Better.
Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 
Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 
His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 
Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 
Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 
Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.
The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.
Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 
"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 
She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 
“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 
"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.
She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 
"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.
She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 
"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 
Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 
This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 
Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 
"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 
The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.
"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 
Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 
He’ll be okay.
He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.
A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 
He likes it.
"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 
"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 
Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 
Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 
If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 
(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 
"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 
"I'm busy." He says flatly. 
"Ste~eeeve!" 
"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 
Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 
If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 
"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 
"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 
‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 
"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 
“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 
“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 
“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"
“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 
“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.
“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 
He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.
The one he swears he still has.
Supposedly. 
("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 
"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.
Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 
In a way no one ever had. 
Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"
"Ow, God Dustin--" 
"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 
"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 
Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 
He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 
It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)
1K notes · View notes
girlboyburger · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
today i realized i could draw anything i want, so.
i drew myself a girlfriend
1K notes · View notes
rysttle · 2 months
Text
HELLO HI!!!
youtube
I know it's boop day but I MADE A LIL DUNMESHI ANIMATIC AAAAAAAA
552 notes · View notes
miusato · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Yeah but what if they're some oddly high budget cartoon from the 00s???
532 notes · View notes
misc-obeyme · 6 months
Text
Some random demons are talking shit about MC at RAD. They're unaware of the fact that Mammon & Satan are in the classroom.
Mammon: Yo, you hearin’ this?
Satan: *not looking up from his book* It's unfortunate we have such idiotic classmates, isn't it?
Mammon: *stands up, grinning* Let’s rumble.
Satan: *snaps his book shut* Fine, but please never say that again.
Destruction ensued. Satan & Mammon refused to tell MC why they were hanging from the ceiling later that day.
Tumblr media
masterlist | Thank you for reading!
1K notes · View notes