Mickey watching TikToks, bored & monotone: “repeat after me.. ‘if it’s a chain, it’s free rein’..” 📱☝🏻👀
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@seedyvillain
Mickey watching TikToks, bored & monotone: “repeat after me.. ‘if it’s a chain, it’s free rein’..” 📱☝🏻👀
Mun: *buys Mickey a choconutter* 🍫🥜
Mickey: “KING-SIZE CHOCONUTTER!”
Mun: Akdjshwjdhdke *grabs king-sized choconutter*
Mickey: *STEALS!!!!1
Mun: 👀
Mun: *buys Mickey a choconutter* 🍫🥜
Mickey: “KING-SIZE CHOCONUTTER!”
Mun: Akdjshwjdhdke *grabs king-sized choconutter*
gone in an instant, or here ‘til the bitter end.
“You’ve never seen Pulp Fiction? Never??” Mickey presses, his masculine brow arching surprised and incredulous. Disappointed, but there’s a flit in his brain—his thought process—that shows excitable in his long limbs that settle into the small diner booth—miraculously. His permanent ink scribble-adorned hands drum lightly on the table as he continues, “well, there’s this scene, in a diner, like this—"
His words trail off as he looks past his company towards the gleaming metallic napkin holders, shiny laminated menus, and other patrons all around.
“There’s this couple, in a booth—like this—and the woman—,” Mickey looks down and scratches the corner of a stash framing his mouth. “She’s not.... ‘conventionally beautiful’—not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he assures, quick, as his stolen peridot green eyes double in size. He looked straight ahead at his company. He hoped he didn’t offend. And he hoped he didn’t imply that they weren’t beautiful—them, seated across from him, making his face feel warm.
“My point is...” Mickey looks down, playing with a Sweet’n Low packet, twirling it round and round with his finger on the pink corner; it helped him ignore the indigestion feeling in the pit of his stomach. Only it wasn’t indigestion. Men howled like wolves in cartoons when they felt the way Mickey felt seated in front of someone he liked; liked the way Tim Roth liked Amanda Plummer in a silly movie.
“In the credits, at the end, she’s listed.. as ‘Honey Bunny’. A term of endearment,” Mickey explains with a smile. “That’s the name of her character.”
A waitress walks past the booth, making a mental note to grab two menus for Mickey and company who were seated in her section.
“In my opinion, one of the greatest love stories, and the crazy thing,” Mickey props an elbow on the table with a slight bang as he excitedly adds on, talking with his hand for emphasis.
“Yolanda. Her name is Yolanda. They say it towards the end of the movie—loud and clear. And yet, in the end, when the credits roll.. she’s still.. ‘Honey Bunny’. To her significant other, even under pressure, with a fucking GUN to his head—she’s still.. ‘Honey Bunny’.”
Mickey’s mouth is level, his lips are full. His eyes are clear and very serious as he denotes soft, “that’s love.” His tone turns mocking and humorous with a smirk, “that may not be... Kate and Leo clinging to a piece of driftwood in the middle of the fucking sea, but, that’s.. it—that’s it for me.” Mickey finally rests his case and his broad back in denim jacket against the backrest of his bench seat. “Did I guess yours correctly?” He teases with a grin.
Wanted plot:
Muse (a) is secretly pregnant by a popular (and very wealthy) politician who is currently busy campaigning during an election year. The pregnancy—if made known—would prove to be SCANDALOUS and costly to the politician’s election campaign. In an attempt to sweep the matter under the rug, muse (b) is hired to kill or ‘make the problem—muse (a)—go away’.
Plot twist—muse (b) can’t do it.
Muse (a) is WITH CHILD. Killing or HARMING muse (a) goes against EVERYTHING muse (b) believes in.
Having already accepted payment to get rid of muse (a), muse (b) is hard up for cash and cannot go back on the deal.
Muse (b) decides to take muse (a) out of harm’s way. Muse (a) and muse (b) can go on a trip at muse (b)’s suggestion. Ultimately, as a sign of mercy, muse (b) tells muse (a) that they will be cared for until their baby is born. However, that plan is SCRAPPED and completely compromised as muse (b) develops serious feelings for muse (a). There’s an attraction, but there’s also something more in this clusterf#ck of a situation muse (a) and muse (b) find themselves in.
( (AAAAAAAHHHHH) )
*bonks my stupid head with yours* I love you
I really enjoy just existing in hotels. The long identical hallways. The soulless abstract art. The weird noises the air-conditioner makes. Strange city lights in the window. Six stories off the ground. Strangers chatting in the hall. Nothing in the dresser. No past, but an infinite present.
*the pout*
Big Mood:
Mickey staring down a beating and condescendingly saying, “it’s just because you’re shooting blanks?” ☹️🍆😂