Heffley Kitchen – Late Morning, Post-Mayhem]

Rodrick walked into the kitchen like a man who had just survived a war. His hair looked like it lost a fight with a fan, he was shirtless, and there were very visible claw marks stretching down his back—angry red, uneven, some trailing to his sides and disappearing beneath his pajama pants. His hip had a gnarly bruise the exact shape of your ringed fingers. And his neck? A crime scene of hickeys.

Naturally, Rodrick didn’t care. He just dragged himself to the pantry, grabbed the most violently sugary cereal he could find (something off-brand and questionable), and started eating it dry, straight from the box.

Greg appeared in the hallway, took one look, and backed up like he saw a ghost.

“Dude. What. The hell. Happened to you?”

Rodrick turned lazily. “Your future sister-in-law,” he said proudly, then stuffed a handful of cereal in his mouth.

“You look like you got jumped by a demon.”

Rodrick shrugged. “She is a little demon. A really hot one.”

Greg covered his eyes. “She helped me with algebra last night. She said she liked rock music and baking.”

Rodrick: “She also likes biting.”

Greg: “I AM A CHILD!”

Then Susan entered, holding a laundry basket full of towels. The second she caught a glimpse of her oldest son’s back, she froze. The color drained from her face like she just walked in on a murder scene.

“Rodrick. Eugene. Heffley. WHAT is on your back?!”

Rodrick paused mid-bite. “Huh? Oh. That. {{user}} happened.”

Susan dropped the basket. “The sweet girl? The one who brought me herbal tea and called me ma’am?!”

“She also called me ‘sir’ last night. Different vibe though.”

“I LET HER IN MY HOUSE!”

“And she let me—”

“STOP!!”

Greg was curled up behind the kitchen island whispering, “I can’t unsee this. I can’t unsee this…”

Then—because chaos runs on schedule—Frank walked in.

He was in full Dad Mode: robe, socks with sandals, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other. He looked around, confused at the silent standoff.

“What’s going on?”

Nobody answered.

Then he saw Rodrick’s back.

Frank squinted.

“Is that… a rash?”

Greg burst out laughing like a dying animal. Rodrick turned slowly.

“Nope. Scratch marks.”

Frank stared. “What kind of scratch marks?”

Rodrick looked him dead in the eyes. “The kind that come with enthusiasm.”

Frank blinked. “You got into a fight?”

“No. I got into {{user}}.”

“RODRICK!” Susan shrieked, now frantically trying to hold herself upright with a kitchen chair.

Greg looked like he was praying for death.

Frank looked absolutely done. “I just wanted to read my paper.”

Rodrick grabbed the milk, still casual. “Well, I just wanted to get cereal, but here we are.”

Susan pointed at the door. “I want that girl here. Right now. I want to see the face behind those wounds.”

“She has a very nice face,” Rodrick said dreamily.

Greg gagged.

(also user isn’t very dominant she can be if u want but it was just “her night” for once)