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slamminslamminmcgill · 2 months

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recent gabriel rb is making think about tommy experiencing boypussy for the first time 🥴😵‍💫 miller brothers would be boypussy whores tell me i’m wrong 🥸😵‍💫

NUH UH IN FACT UR SO RIGHT (this gif is them after dropping you off at home the next morning and giving each other an attaboy hug 😌)

warning: spit, piss, rimming, oral, squirting, anal, dp, slurs, spanking, pussy slapping, daddy/uncle fauxcest, brothers having a threesome but not doing each other

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy, t-dick

half the fun is them trying to outdo each other. classic sibling rivalry behavior.

they like seeing who can get you to do the nastiest thing and they’ll laugh about how much of a slut you are

they’ll be spitroasting you w/ tommy in your throat and joel in your cunt. then out of nowhere tommy pulls you off him.

“hey.” he spits in your open mouth and spins around, “lick my ass, boy. c’mon, get your face in there. use that tongue- oh, damn, that’s perfect… mmm… nasty little queer, ain’t he, joel?”

joel scoffs, “tch, that’s nothin’. yesterday i had him on his knees begging to drink my piss”

“jesus, man, that’s… that’s sick…”

joel shrugs, “take it up with him. he’s the one who wanted it.”

they like to talk about you like you’re not even there. like you’re a doll. like a dumb little thing like you couldn’t possibly understand them. like you’re a dog and they’re spelling out W-A-L-K so you don’t wet yourself from the excitement.

tommy’s in your pussy, “god, he’s so fuckin’ wet… i can’t… can’t believe it… he’s so wet…”

“you try puttin’ it in his ass yet, tommy? he loves it.” joel leans over to spank you, triggering your throat to spasm around his cock, “li’l whore’ll take all the dick he can get.”

they LOVE dping you!!! having two fat cocks in each of your holes, rutting against each other through your walls, fighting for space inside your body and keeping you FULL!!! they know it’s a lot for you tho so they’ll be very attentive throughout (they’re the aftercare gods btw)

joel will have you sitting in his lap facing him with his cock buried in your pussy. tommy comes up behind you, lubes himself up, and slowly, ever so slowly, breaches your asshole. the initial stretch stings, so you cling to joel and whimper into his neck.

“shhh, shh, it’s okay, baby.” he tenderly ruffles your hair and rubs your shoulders, “just relax and let uncle tommy in. just gotta let him in, son, daddy’s got you. yeah, you got it.”

“‘m almost there… doin’ so good for us, sweetheart,” tommy kisses your neck, “such a good boy.”

sometimes joel just wants to watch, so he’ll have you rest your head in his lap and hold your hands while tommy takes care of you 🥺 he loves watching you squirm and talking you through it

“oh! f-fuck! fuck! oh, daddyyy…”

“i know, baby, i know,” he swipes a lock of your hair off your sweaty forehead, “uncle tommy’s doin’ good, ain’t he?”

“yes, daddy…”

“so tell him,” joel tilts your face up to tommy, who gives you a comforting—but still a bit cheeky—smile in return.

“well, kiddo? i feel good?”

“uh huh~! y-yes~!”

“am i bigger than he is?”

“in yer fuckin‘ dreams, tommy. now shut up and fuck him.”

and so he does. he does that very well. and you end up powerwashing his dick when you cum. happens.

joel smacks your overstimulated sopping pussy, “go on ‘n’ get a taste of this juicy little cunt he’s got here. li’l guy’s sweet like a peach.”

and once the first drop of you touches his taste buds, he’s addicted. sucking your lips and t-dick into his mouth, the straw from which to drink you.

“oh my GOD, he tastes good!”

“heh. told ya.”

joel likes to cum in you, and tommy likes to cum on you 😌🤍

#anon #ask #joel miller #joel miller headcanon #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tommy miller #tommy miller headcanon #tommy miller imagine #tommy miller smut #tommy miller x reader #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us

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keefwho · 21 days

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April 30 - 2024 Tuesday

11:28pm

5.5/10

This morning I got all the junk outside my bathroom window moved. I also tidied up outside my door just a little bit with some sweeping. My dog Sporticus is not good at staying in sight while I'm outside for so long and doesn't always respond to calling, I really need to learn how to teach her better. For breakfast I made oatmeal with apples and a slice of spam. I tried sneaking in some WT but its hard to focus on playing any game while cooking/eating.

On stream I warmed up with kangaroo sketches. Then I finished the last 2 YCHs I had for the month and worked on a cuck drawing of my OC. I had to redo the background and I kept overworking it because I couldn't get the colors in a way I liked. Also the carpet texture. I mostly made it work though.

After work I got kinda frisky but realized it was just due to boredom so instead I went outside and used the hose to powerwash the area outside my window I had cleaned earlier. There was a bunch of dirt and pine needles built up there. I also did the rest of the walkway and then sprayed weed killer throughout the yard. I got done just in time for lunch.

Lunch was red potatoes with green beans and garlic, ham, and onions mixed into some rice. It was good, sort of mild in flavor which is what I wanted. I watched Twitch on my lunch break.

In the afternoon I did today's request fine and finished that art of my OC. Then I worked a bit more on another personal drawing of my otter in his skater clothes. I never like to go into the details of the subject matter, it's not necessary either. After that I started work on my new low poly pony avatar I'm making from scratch. I got a trello created and started work on the body.

After work I played some WT and was considering joining a new friend of mine in VRchat but I wasn't sure I was social enough today. After playing for a bit, I made the decision to treat myself to some self pleasure. I was worried it would interfere with DS time but she seemed busy so I went for it. It was nice, I went into it in the headspace of making sure I felt great throughout. I don't usually do that I guess. Afterward I started dinner and did end up joining on that acquaintance. She was watching season 6 of this Outlander show which she told me all about. I could only stay for about 5 minutes because I wanted to Just Dance with DS. Just Dance was great today because dancing felt right in this headspace of mine. I figured out what I need today and maybe the last few days was just to empathize and listen to others. I did that by asking questions about that show. I did that by dancing and paying extra attention to how the dancers actually move. I kept doing it by asking DS about her day and stuff like usual. She was in a funny mood and I really wanted to ask her about that stuff too but I felt nervous. I just need to listen to others and I wish I figured that out sooner in the day. If I still feel the same way tomorrow I'll know what to do. DS and I did out puzzles, finished the second Monster High book, and I beat Hades in KH2.

Today I thought a lot about the ego and kept asking myself if I am acting/thinking from a character I'm portraying or from my true self. I kept asking myself "who is noticing that?" every now and then because often times it makes me realize I am here and present regardless of how I feel or what I think I'm doing or what I think I should be doing or who I should be.

#journal #diary

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eyes-talks-ocs · 3 years

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❌ This contains sensitive content such as violence, manipulation, death mention, and uncomfortable scenes. Reader Discretion is advised. Thank you!!

---

"Teeth" is just drabble so there is no proofreading as a heads up!

---

Teeth - Pt. 04

Cole helped the Master pack up the power washer. Draining the water from the hose and making sure the cord was neatly coiled. He'd glance back to Dustin time and time again. He only sat there, holding himself and looking a little lost. Depressed even? But definitely not given up or hopeless yet. Cole knew that would change though, if he continued to disagree and not obey Master's commands or wishes. He hoped the man would just go with what Master wanted. Just so he didn't have to break. The man had a fire, one that wouldn't be easily extinguished. It would take a sure storm before the man would bow.

Dustin was stupid - Cole thought. Just agree. Be done. Live happy and without this harsh punishment. It was completely his choice and his doing in facing it. Why was he so stupid? Cole didn't understand. Why put yourself through something that could be completely avoided?

The Master and Cole started walking away with the equipment. Cole purposely kept his gaze low, and away from the creature. He didn't dare face him after what he did to him. He'd be civil as long as he didn't give him reason not to be. This was probably a good reason in his mind not to be. He didn't mean to hurt the poor guy, but Master forced his hand.

"Hey." Dustin's voice was quiet as they passed.

Cole froze, holding his breath. Master cocked his head in waiting.

"Think I could get a blanket?" He was meek in his asking. It sounded like an honest plea, not a smart ass remark like most of his other responses.

Master got a sinister smirk on his face, before bending down slightly to his level. "Do you really think I'm going to give you creature comforts or accomodations? Wow. You weren't joking about the concussion, Cole. He really can't think straight right now." The dragon stood back up and rested his hands on his cane. "You're a prisoner. What makes you think I'm going to do anything nice for you? You're an idiot for asking."

Dustin stayed quiet for a bit, trying to hide the shaking. "I'm a desert creature. I can't do the cold and wet." Again, Cole noticed he was being sincere in his statements.

"Sir. He could be like some of the other reptilian shifters. Kinda cold blooded, kinda not. If he's like them, he needs sun and warmth to really thrive. His low body temp makes sense now if this is the case." Cole refrained from looking at Dustin, "if it is, he could die from exposure pretty easily down here."

The Master stood there thinking, "Alright. Bring him a blanket then." The Master left without saying much more. The way he agreed, he did it with irritation behind his words. Cole stood there a little dumbfounded at his cooperation with the creature's requests. It was apparent to Cole that the Master would try his best to keep this creature alive. He didn't take this care with any of the others he's had stuffed in this room. But the others weren't as rare though. Werewolves and other shifters are a dime a dozen. Even the rather uncommon demons he doesn't take this much empathy for. If they die, they die. He could always find another to take in.

But Dustin. No, he was a creature Master had been looking for for a long while. To let this opportunity slip, wasn't something he'd let happen easily.

Cole quickly left the room following the older dragon, not wanting to get caught alone with Dustin. Even though, he knew that was going to be inevitable shortly.

After helping the older dragon drag the powerwasher back to it's home. He was sent off to fetch a blanket. The boy dug through supply closets till he found one that had bedding in it. Perks of re-utilizing an abandoned hotel. There's no short supply of linens and towels. Just had to find some without moth holes.

Dust and down filled the air as Cole shook out the brown fuzzy blanket. It was stained with various things, most looked like bleach spots. It smelled clean enough though, and no mice had made their homes from it. It would work.

He made his way slowly to the room. Clutching the folded blanket for comfort before confronting the man.

With a deep breath, he pushed open the door to the room and slowly walked in. Dustin was still where they left him. Huddle and trying to warm himself. Cole eyed him as he approached with care.

"I have a blanket for you." Cole said softly, unfolding it for him.

Dustin slowly looked up at him and nodded.

A little more at ease now, seeing as the man let out no growls or warnings. The boy softly draped the blanket over the man's shoulders. There was a quiet sigh of relief from the creature as he snuggled into it.

"Is that going to be good enough for you?" Cole asked, watching.

"Hopefully." Dustin replied without much energy.

Cole sat down with him on the damp floor. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?"

Dustin's eyes lit up at the offer, but that little glisten faded and his expression went solemn again. "No. I'm not hungry."

The boy was a little confused. "Are you sure? You looked like you wanted to say 'yes' right there." He pushed.

"I'm fine. I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?" Cole asked, studying him. "It looks like you could use a meal or two." He tried urging.

Dustin looked down at himself then back at Cole. He didn't think it was that noticeable. Sure he's had to tighten up his belt a couple holes over the past little while. But it shouldn't be that blatantly obvious to someone who didn't even know him. Or so he thought it shouldn't be anyway.

"A while." Dustin was short.

"Then eat?"

"I'm not hungry." He reiterated, this time with some anger.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I'll drop it. I thought you'd appreciate something. I know you're hungry." Cole sighed, "I take it you're not feeling all too great then? Stomach bothering you?"

Dustin stayed quiet.

"Do you want some water at least?" Cole asked quietly, trying not to upset him any further.

Dustin took a minute to respond. "Yeah."

Cole went and grabbed his bag from beside the door and fished through it for his water bottle. He brought it over and offered it to Dustin. The boy helped the man and touched the metal bottle to his lips. Dustin lapped at the water viciously, Cole did his best to try and force the man to drink it slower. He worried he was going to accidentally drown himself.

It took the man no time to have that bottle of water drank, though some of it made it's home to the floor as he clumsily did so. Cole recapped his bottle and fumbled around with it in his hands. "Will you let me know when you do want something to eat? Master is allowing it. Don't be afraid to ask."

Dustin just gave him a blank look.

Cole sighed again in return.

"Has he made you kill anyone yet?" Dustin's gruff voice cut the silence.

"Huh?" Cole was caught off guard.

"Your master. Has he made you kill?"

"Aah, no. He hasn't." Cole was confused.

"It won't be long before he'll start having you do some more, violent work. Your master seems like he has morals. You're a kid, he probably didn't want to scar you just yet." Dustin mumbled quietly. "I take it, I'm your test?"

Cole looked at him further with more confusion. "I -".

"You hesitated. I am. It doesn't take much to see that you haven't interacted with any new meat before. You're too kind, too apprehensive, too - trusting." Dustin scoffed when he cut Cole off. "He's going to push you to see what you'll do to me if he orders it. See if you obey or not."

"What makes you think that?" Cole got a little defensive in name of his Master. "He knows I want no part in any of the dirty business. I just look after and clean up things. I don't think he'd throw me into something that wasn't my specialty. So how do you know? What Master has planned for me?"

Dustin sighed, "I've seen it before."

There was a long silence from Cole before he spoke again. The words fell quietly from his lips, "was Master right in his guess? You've been owned before?"

"Yeah." Dustin swallowed. "I have."

"What...what was your master like?" Cole nervously asked.

Dustin picked his head up to better look Cole in the eyes, "cruel, heartless, a complete pig of man. I could go on. Your's seems pretty decent as far as owning other pieces of life are concerned. I would have already had my teeth knocked out by now if it were mine." He let out a short chuckle.

"So did your master ever force you to - to kill anyone?" Cole spoke the last words as quietly as he could.

The man didn't speak, but kept eye contact with Cole and slowly nodded his head 'yes'.

Cole got small, and shrunk down into himself. He knew in the back of his mind that a creature like this would more than certainly have blood on their hands. But he wanted to just ignore that, and assume Dustin was peaceful like himself.

"Kid, you're sitting here staring at me like I just kicked your dog. I don't go after anyone unless I was ordered to with no choice in the matter, or it was for my own protection. Don't make me out to be something I'm not." Dustin got stern.

"Yes Sir." Cole spoke almost robotically.

Dustin's look went soft at the reply. He knew it was a conditioned response. He'd been there, one could argue he still was there. The ingrained habits don't die easy.

"So. What happened to your owner?" Cole asked.

"I killed him."

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antiquecompass · 5 years

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So, chronologically this is the first ‘tale’ in Tales from Lan Academy. It’s also for Untamed Fest Day Seventeen: Change.

As much as Wei Ying and Lan Zhan rarely argued, the subject of Sizhui’s education was a sticking point. Logically Lan Zhan could see Wei Ying’s side of the argument: Boston itself had wonderful primary schools and private schools that Sizhui could attend and stay close to home. While Lan Zhan made the commute to and from Lan Academy every day, it wasn’t one that a young child should have to undertake, wasting hours in a car that could be spent on extracurricular activities. It was an argument that Lan Zhan had agreed with while Sizhui was still so young. He was approaching sixth grade now, entering those more significant academic years, and Lan Zhan couldn’t, in good faith, not push for Sizhui’s attendance at Lan Academy. They were right at the point where Sizhui would be transitioning into a new school anyway, and it was the perfect time to move him to the Academy with as little disruption to his life as possible.

It was also something Sizhui had quietly asked for, though he’d only asked his papa, knowing Wei Ying’s loud opinions on the Lan Family Principles that governed the school. Though to be fair, it wasn’t the Lan Family that Wei Ying had ever disagreed with, he actually praised them on more often than not. His quarrel would always and forever be Lan Qiren alone. Wei Ying liked most of his family, and the feeling was mutual, with the exception of his uncle.

His husband was not pleased by this new development. It was obvious in the pout on his face and the crossing of his arms as he paced the length of their bedroom, long hair unbound and swishing behind him. Lan Zhan patiently sat on their bed as he waited for Wei Ying to talk himself down from whatever emotional cliff he was standing upon. He had learned over the years that sometimes it was best to let Wei Ying work it all out in his own mind and words before stepping in.

“He asked for this?” Wei Ying suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Lan Zhan nodded. “He wants to attend classes with Jingyi and Zizhen.”

“And he didn’t feel like he could come to me about it?”

Lan Zhan stood, walking over to Wei Ying and placing his arms around his waist, holding him in place, resting his chin on his shoulder. “He didn’t want to upset you.”

“Our kid shouldn’t be worried about upsetting me,” Wei Ying said as he leaned back into his hold. “I know I’ve made my feelings about your uncle well known, but Sizhui shouldn’t have ever feared coming to me about wanting to attend the Academy.” His entire body went lax. “Talk about your parental failure.”

“He’s at the top of his class,” Lan Zhan said. “He knows you wanted to keep him close to home. But you know he spent last year largely unchallenged.”

“Bored. He was bored,” Wei Ying corrected.

Lan Zhan nodded. “He doesn’t have to live in the dorms like Zizhen. He can sleep on the drive up and do his homework on the drive back.”

Wei Ying sighed and turned in his arms. He stole a comforting kiss before resting his forehead against Lan Zhan’s own. “I always knew it would come to this, so I’ve been looking.”

“Looking?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. He loved their home in Boston, their freedom, but he hated the hours wasted on his commute, and he did sometimes miss the peaceful life out in the mountains.

“Looking for a home up there. I know the Lans have an entire complex of mountain mcmansions, but I don’t…” He looked up. “I love you, and I love most of your family, but to be surrounded by them can be a hell of a thing.”

Lan Zhan didn’t disagree. He loved his family and the community that raised him, but even he could admit that it could be stifling at times. He hadn’t always been comfortable, growing up under all that scrutiny, and it was why he had little objection to keeping their son away from it for so long.

“I like our life here,” he said.

Wei Ying smiled. “And we’ll have it, on the weekends, and on school breaks. This will be easier on all of us. And the environment. Think of all the gas you’ll be saving. That should please Old Man Lan.”

He cupped the back of Wei Ying’s neck and held him there. “Are you sure?”

“I’d go anywhere with you,” he said. “Even completely into Lan territory.”

Lan Zhan almost laughed as he recalled something Uncle had said back when he told him about his impending marriage. <i>We’ll make a Lan out of him yet</i>, Lan Qiren declared as he spoke the family lawyers about altering wills and inheritance funds. For all of his years lamenting that Wei Ying would lead him down a dishonorable path, Uncle was proud to introduce people to his Newbery Medal winning nephew-in-law, who had taken the Lan name upon his marriage.

Wei Ying, Lan-Wei Wuxian, would only ever be a Lan on <i>his</i> own terms.

“I’ll start the enrollment process then,” Lan Zhan said. “His name has been on the list since we finalized the adoption. I know my brother will be delighted to welcome him in with all the new students.”

“And you should tell Sizhui before he falls into the door and ruins the fact that he’s trying to secretly listen in.”

Wei Ying opened their bedroom door and Sizhui, their once little Yuan, tumbled onto the floor, Lan Jingyi falling on top of him.

“Boys,” Wei Ying greeted. “Eavesdropping is against the Lan Academy Principles.” He smiled down at them. “You’re going to get detention before you’ve even started the semester. I’m almost proud.”

“I’m not even enrolled yet,” Sizhui said.

“You are now,” Lan Zhan said as he read his brother’s text confirming that the paperwork would be finalized in the morning. “But since you’re not currently at the Academy or the Cloud Recesses, what shall we do to discourage such behavior?”

“Please don’t say writing. Please don’t say writing,” Jingyi chanted from his place sprawled out next to Sizhui.

“I think the kitchen floor could do with a cleaning,” Wei Ying said. “And a wax.”

Lan Zhan nodded in approval at the punishment.

Sizhui stood, pulling Jingyi along with him. “Thank you, fathers,” he said.

“No hug?” Wei Ying asked as the boys left the room. “Maybe I should make them powerwash the back steps too.”

Sizhui ran back in to hug them both fiercely before running back out to Jingyi. Lan Zhan could hear the sounds of the two boys play fighting, but since he couldn’t actually see them this time, he let it go.

He smiled at the warm look on Wei Ying’s face, the delight in listening to the boys, filling their home with noise.

“So,” he said, turning back to Lan Zhan. “I’m thinking an estate. You can have your own greenhouse. I can wander the hills in the rain, crying out for my lost-love who abandoned me for horticulture, while channeling my best Bronte.”

Lan Zhan tugged his husband close, perhaps too hard, softly laughing as Wei Ying fell across their bed.

“And we can have our own wing of the house,” Wei Ying said, pulling Lan Zhan on top of him. “I want a turret.”

“From Bronte to Beauty and the Beast?” Lan Zhan asked, brushing the hair away from that beloved face.

“Hmm, or maybe Sleeping Beauty,” Wei Ying said as he tugged him down. “Come and give me True Love’s Kiss?”

“I think you’re more suited to Shrek,” Lan Zhan said, even as he leaned down to do what was asked of him, stealing the soft laughter from his husband’s mouth.

#long post #untamedfest #fandom: the untamed #verse: lahl #fic: tales from lan academy

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harlanyoung · 6 years

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Fly Paper

I couldn’t tell if the wooly bear worm was dead or just playing dead. It looked like double a battery and felt like my mother’s hair curlers.

I put the worm in my left side pocket along with some twigs and dry leaves and began walking to my grandparent’s house. It wasn’t far. They were our neighbors. Grandpa spent every warm and warm enough afternoon on his back porch eying the bird feeders clamped to the railing. He was there to chase away the squirrels with his 7-iron and take Polaroid pictures of Blue Jays if they happened to stop over.

He piled the photos in a Nike shoebox that he kept in his closet. He told me one day they’d be mine — he said that he’d put them all in an album before then so that I could put them on the coffee table in my own house.

He’d sip chocolate milk with ice and eat forkfuls of pickled ham while he let the sun tan his withered, thin legs. Blood blisters from knocking his shins against the bannister and the backdoor formed just above his ankles and never went away. He said they looked like his mother, and laughed.

Sometimes he’d see things. Grandpa would know what he saw wasn’t real; he knew he’d just have to wait for the vision to pass. Sometimes it was a fat white rabbit with cotton candy pink eyes; other times it was palmetto bugs. He said they looked like sweet dates with wings. These things would hover around the light fixtures and cast shadows that made his lower lip quiver and his left hand twitch. Grandpa’s eyes would dilate and well up with fear.

Then the moment would pass and he’d scratch the back of his head like he was looking for a splinter.

He said he had a present for me. It was supposed to be a Christmas gift but he didn’t want any of my cousins to see it and get jealous. When I got to the porch he was sitting cross-legged on the purple walker he picked up at CVS with the leather stool and alligator airhorn. He fixed two powder blue tennis balls to the back legs.

“Hey, there’s my pal,” he said wiping the a piece of chocolate shell from the side of his mouth. He was nursing an ice cream stick.

I gave him a quiet nod and dragged a narrow iron chair over to his side. On his lap was a long, rectangular box wrapped in lavender paper. The sides were wrinkled and strands of scotch tape were wrapped around it several times.

“Don’t mind the paper or the wrapping. It’s all we had. Had to do it quick. But this is for you, okay?” He shook the box, smiled and handed it to me.

I nodded again. Smiled, sort of, and went to tearing apart the paper. Under the wrapping was a plain cardboard box.

“Let me see that,” grandpa said. He pushed himself off of the walker, lifted the leather cushion, and pulled out a box cutter.

He slit the tape off the ends. I opened the flaps and pulled out a smaller box. On the outside was the image of a paintball gun; two paintball guns, actually. Two children my age were holding them and smiling with plastic goggles covering their eyes and jet black pads covering their arms and chests.

Grandpa took the box from me and cut it open with the box cutter. This time he gutted like a fish down the middle and started pulling apart the cardboard. The gun was fixed in place inside the box with zip ties.

He made small groans and grunts while he struggle with the plastic ties. A small paper cut bubbled on the palm of his hand. He swiveled to the left and right on his walker.

It had a meat red body and a chrome barrel. Packed with it were several bags of assorted paintballs — green, yellow, pink, purple and blue.

“I never had one myself. In fact, I’ve never had a gun. I wanted one, I think, but never got around to buying one. Haven’t even held one before. Have you?”

I shook my head. I held it with one hand and pointed it crookedly at the house.

“Don’t go messing with the siding. I just got the house powerwashed. I’ve been saving cans for your to shoot at. We’ll make a target later, too.”

“I don’t think mom will like this.”

I planted it barrel first into the deck and used the butt to balance myself.

“Of course not, we’ll keep it here, in the basement. It’ll be our thing. You can tag the squirrels for me.”

We had a lot of things together — eating T-Bone steaks with our hands, skipping swim practice to go to the movies, the one puff of a cigar after dinner on Thanksgiving and then again on Easter, a sip of Jim Beam with Tobasco Sauce to fix my sore throat.

I’d learned that these were normal grandpa things and my parents were always wise to what we were doing.

That was the first time my grandpa ever held any kind of gun.

Grandpa started loading it. I took his 7-iron and let out phantom rounds at anything that moved. Then grandpa dropped the paintballs. They rolled off the porch, some got stuck in the crevices between planks, and others fitted themselves beneath grandma’s clay flower pots

His left eye was twitching. He started massaging his upper thigh.

“Grandpa?”

“Just the critters again. Just the critters.”

He grabbed the gun and the rubbish and kicked it off to the side and hid it under the blue tarp that was covering the grill.

“You feel like 99 House?” It was the only chain in town that served every table a bowl of popcorn before the meal with a small plastic cup filled with melted butter. Grandpa would ask for a second so that he had one to drink.

“Won’t grandma notice all the paintballs?”

Grandpa shrugged his shoulders.

“The wind will take them. Besides, she never comes in this way.”

It was early in the afternoon, but I didn’t mind a second lunch. He drove a Buick that he said was my age.

You couldn’t tell whether the car was in Neutral, Drive or Reverse until you hit the gas because the indicators on the dashboard had all but faded. He’d crank it up then down slowly and count the clicks. There were three until it hit drive.

The brakes made a cartoonish screech and it took forever to heat up. The center console could be raised to make room for a third person up front. Dimes and balled up tissues with spearmint bubble gum and half-suck Lemonheads were scattered across the floor.

He had an ice scraper with a glove stitched to it and an encyclopedia from 1995 with the letter A on the spine in the backseat.

It always smelled like tobacco in that car. Not real tobacco, but the candle kind — the kind that puts the taste of snickerdoodle and cinnamon toast on your tongue. Sometimes chemicals can things sweeter.

He loved that damn car.

I didn’t bother calling my parents. They wouldn’t worry. We were never gone for more than a couple hours at a time. Grandpa took Whirlwind Hill past the local wine trail and followed the back roads around Cella’s Christmas Tree Farm to Route 5.

He hated getting caught at the lights downtown and was never a fan of dealing with more than two lanes of traffic at once.

The restaurant was empty. There was one waiter who was also acting as the host. His polo was missing both buttons and he had bleach stains on the collar.

“Welcome to 99 House,” he exclaimed with wide eyes and gritting teeth. “Just the two of you?”

“That’s right,” grandpa replied.

“Well you’re in luck, our lunch rush just ended so you have your pick of tables.”

There was no lunch rush. There never was. It was a copy of a copy of Applebees right down to their taquito burger and coconut shrimp.

They thought square glass plates and copper mugs would change the image, but it didn’t. That’s why grandpa liked it. They were kind, desperate and always empty.

Grandpa sat down in the back corner booth facing the flat screen that was currently shut off.

“Can you turn the game on?”

#flash fiction #fiction #writing #creative writing #short story

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