the best little borehouse in texas.

                                           𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 

𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋   𝐁𝐀𝐆   𝐎𝐅   𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐘   𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄   𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐒   slipped   off   his   fingers,   brows   lifted,   and   dorian   glanced   over   his   shoulder.   despite   not   having   faculty   around,   he   couldn’t   help   but   be   paranoid   as   he   slid   the   drugs   in   the   other’s   hand.   “it’s   free   tonight,”   he   said,   voice   low   and   he   sniffed   before   stuffing   his   hands   in   his   front   pockets.   “if   anything,   you   didn’t   get   them   from   me.   just   have   fun   tonight.”

free? brows are slightly raised, eyes studying his expression. she’s quick in her movements, has done this many times before. the plastic bag is sneakily enough slipped into the pocket of her jacket, a small nod of the head following. a half-smile appears. “generous, sir.” she notices. “did you lace it with fentanyl?” 

“i’m absolutely foaming at the mouth,” maja bared her canines and growled like some unidentifiable animal. she was tipsy and attempting to hold back a bout of laughter. “hey do you remember when people would claim to be rabiosexual and, like, want to get rabies? remember how that was a thing?” she questioned, a rum soaked laugh spilling out. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i’ll be still. you can go. wait, no. are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

brows raise, then abruptly furrow. then she squints, but before you even know, the expression is back to neutral. as in, seemingly bored to death. “no? i have.. never heard of that.” she admits slowly. “how come it stopped being a thing? sounds fucking brilliant. hell, i would personally love a good dose of rabies. and getting to share it with friends? that’s fucking cute. i love it.” she comments, the tone ever-so-casual. she’s about to bring the needle back to the girl’s skin, when the other speaks again. babs can’t help but roll her eyes. “no, maja, i have no fucking idea. thanks so much for checking in on me.” 

     “ nah, man, i’m just— ”  just as soon as malone’s excuse was rolling off his tongue, naturally deep tone husky as each syllable was drawled out, his mind soon caught up with what exactly he was being accused of and a laugh was emanated from the brunet.  “ rabies ? jesus, i’m not that fuckin’ bad, am i ? ”  clearly, he was. malone had been nursing some sort of delicious concoction out of a party yard cup he’d retrieved from god knows where, and had been venturing back to rejoin his brothers, but somehow ended up sat in front of babs with his sleeve rolled up, arm as a canvas for her to use.  “ m’sorry. look, i can be still, ”  he eagerly promised with the lanky neon pink cup nestled between his legs, before silently sipping at the straw. blue hues, glassy from the amount of liquor consumed throughout his journey, first observed his arm before lifting to fix on her.  “ so whataya doin’ ? ”

"see, i don’t think your face could get any redder.” a careful hand reaches out, brushes against his cheek. “you’re burning up and wiggling like an epileptic salmon. if i didn’t know better, i’d be convinced you’re feral.” she jokes, a small smile breaking the near nonchalant expression. “you fucking better.” she informs. and just like always, it sounds more serious than planned. eyes rest on him, and for a second she seems completely thrown off track. “whaa—“ she begins, looking from the outline on his arm to the stack of papers on the table. “i thought we agreed on the dean’s face, on that... stingray? hold the fuck up.” she looks through the pile, eventually finding the matching image. to be fair, she can’t quite recall whether she did actually consult it with him before, but.. hey, better late than never. she hands over the drawing of the dean himself, the face minimalistic, yet oddly accurate, drawn onto the body of a stingray.  “is that cool?” babs makes sure to double-check. “do you fucking hate it?” 

“you keep making that FACE.” zev argued right back, twitching again slightly where they sat with her. “are you sure you’ve even done this before? because i’ve never had a tattoo artist look like THAT whilst tattooing me.” and zev had plenty of tattoos- both professional and stick and poke- to show. they paused, and grinned. “unless my body is so deliciously gorgeous it’s just absolutely distracting you.”

"what fucking face?” she immediately spits back. “what face am i making, zevadiah?” brows raised, the overall displeased expression completed with a glare. she then squints, seems to be thinking about it for a second. “maybe that’s because i’m... not a tattoo artist. surprise, motherfucker. we’re in my mother’s basement and this is an old heroin needle. that thing?” she gestures towards the ink. “gunpowder and water. haha. looks like you've been owned.” 

                            ‘’ who’s questioning your authority ?  ‘’ he asks , his voice higher than usual. if anyone was around to hear these two , it would sound something similar to an old married couple bickering for the thousandth time. the thought of someone telling him that made him wanna barf his brains out. light hues roll side-to-side , shaking his head to add effect. ‘’ really ?  bet. i’ll hold you to what you just said if it ever comes down to it so don’t go CRYING when the hitman pulls out a knife. ‘’ he takes another drink from her mug , letting the warming green tea run down his throat. ‘’ can you at least tell me what you plan to give me ? ‘’

"you are?” duh. “and frankly, i’m fucking triggered.” she states, even adding a nice little death stare at the end. for someone with no filter whatsoever, babs sure likes to play the offended person, a lot. “hah, cry! no fucking way. he pulls out the blade, i immediately fucking eat it.” it sounds a bit too confident for what it is. “he sure won’t see that coming, now, will he? get wrecked, fucking.. hitman loser.” she then leans back in her chair, reaches for a piece of paper, waves it around slightly before handing it over. “here. i was thinking ‘bout the upc for a gallon of skimmed milk. do you object?” 

                   ‘‘ I WOULDN’T BE SURPRISED , ‘‘ he spews , a frown taking over his lips as he shifts around in his seat. he lets out a quick , harsh sigh , reaching for the other’s mug of tea to take a swig. ‘’ LOOK , maybe we should do this when you aren’t so…under the influence. what if you fuck up ?  ‘’ he asks. “ what if i end up with a modeling gig and they absolutely hate whatever you end up giving me ? ”

she can’t help but scoff at his words. eyes follow his movements, brows furrowing, a clear look of disapproval, but she doesn’t stop him. truth? she doesn’t seem to really mind. “oh, so you’re now questioning my authority? huh, well, that’s fucking awkward. when have i ever done you dirty?” but she’s not necessarily seeking for an answer, mostly because she knows he can probably come up with a few examples. “if it ever comes down to it, i’ll let you come after me. even hire a fucking hitman, have him skin me alive so you can snatch my insurance money and get the best laser tattoo removal in the fucking states. word.” 

finn had a bad habit of wandering when he was bored, he wasn’t a huge fan of being alone because that meant being alone with his thoughts which was something he’d rather not do. walking around campus gave him an excuse to just people watch and relax but as football captain he did get a bit of unwanted attention so he pulled his hoodie over his head and pulled the string tight, hoping that at a glance, he wasn’t super recognizable. as he walked, he sniffed the air and immediately stopped in his tracks. if they were ever to have a superpower, sniffing out food would probably be it because he’s almost become an expert at this point. his stomach gargled loudly as the smell of deliciousness poured around him, he was starving now. finn followed the scent to a door and gently knocked before speaking. “ uh - any chance you’re into sharing? “ the jock chuckled through the wood, hoping this person was generous enough to share their meal because his mind wasn’t going to think of anything else until then.

she’s truly not expecting anyone to visit. not at this hour. all of her sisters are out, and she? she’s been happily smoking a blunt in front of the tv, wandering around the house in just the underwear and cooking, what looks like, a family meal. see, that’s what she’s here for. as much as she doesn’t mind spending time with the other girls, babs truly appreciates these moments where she can just do whatever the heck she wants for an hour or two before everyone gets home and scolds her for stinking up the house again. clearly displeased, she opens the door only to be greeted by the sight of... finn? she’s just about to tell him off for the day, ask him to come back later, when kat’s around, but then he speaks and she can instantly just feel the confusion. “to have the nerve.” she comments, looking him up and down before leaning against the door frame “what is it that you’re panhandling for, wilder?” 

starter for @bwaldroop based on the bop: best friend by rex orange county

the two had been sitting on tadge’s dingy-ass couch for what seemed like hours ( in reality only 20 minutes had gone by ) and he couldn’t stop thinking about the area 51 memes that kept flooding his twitter feed. “do you think aliens actually exist?” he asked as he turned to the girl next to him — his eyes at the tightest squint ever.

brows furrow slightly. she shifts in her seat, crosses her legs and turns to face him. “why not?” it sounds almost too simple. she exhales a cloud of smoke, before passing the joint over to the boy. “i mean, if we look at the world, it’s like this.” she explains by acting out a replica of the universe with her hands. “here is the sea, which is, like, the bottom of the world.” she keeps going, very focused on her movements. “and here is space, right? and that’s the toppest of the tops, you know? so, basically, we already know that there are some real fucking nasty creatures in the depths of the ocean. we’re talking.. properly disgusting lifeforms no one even asked for, so... it would make so much sense if half of that, but weirder, was lurking.. up there.” a pause. “maybe it hasn’t been discovered. maybe it has, but there are people who really don’t want us to know about it. which, of course, is a fucking shame.” she studies his expression, tries not to laugh at how absolutely fucking stoned he looks. “what do you think?” she then asks leaning back, stretching her legs. “man, i’d totally fist-fight a fucking alien.” a blunt confession after seconds of silence. 

             ❝ It wasn’t that big of a deal. I didn’t - I didn’t have to go to the hospital or anything. ❞ Sam noted , referring to the long scratch along his calf - it looked like it hurt , but seemed to be healing. Maybe it was because of the HELLO KITTY bandaids , about five , sticking to his leg - looking like they’d been placed on by a toddler. Until the tall nursing major would correct ,  ❝ My younger sister patched me up. She wanted to give me Superman bandaids , but I strictly asked for the Hello Kitty ones. I don’t know , they’re cute. ❞

to be fair, she seems more fascinated by the wound itself than whatever story he’s currently offering. a joint between her lips, knees pulled up to her chest. it’s as if she’s trying to take as little space as possible. bored eyes move to his face. she blows out a cloud of smoke before shaking her head. “wooow, really? aw, so quirky. aren’t you just the softest of all them boys?” a hint of mockery. 

“i mean elon musk may make twitter jokes and not be as overtly evil capitalist as jeff bezos but that doesn’t mean he’s tolerable.” kat slammed her neatly manicured hands down on the table. “it’s the over-consumption of personal media that causes us to become desensitized to his actions. if jeff bezos started tweeting about his anime girlfriend we’d all flip on a dime. all i’m saying is social media is warping our perspective of people by distracting us from their actions with fabricated words…you know?” kat finished face flushed red from her impassioned speech. 

she’s sat there, and.... that’s it, really. an open bag of tobacco rests in front of her, fingers holding onto a rolling paper. maybe, just maybe you could be fooled into thinking she’s actually listening. expression remains nonchalant, bored almost, eyes focused on the task. carefully, she rolls the tobacco up into a slim stick, finishes it up and places behind her ear. glance finally moves to the girl across from her. “so, what you’re saying is we need to kill musk and take down the entire twitter. got it.” a simple conclusion. 

wow this is incoherent af