#oh by the way if youre wondering what the fuck chocolate corn is its from that one comic of her and noise

[kate-bot]

It is of my personal opinion that they are best friends...  fake peppino is the only one who will eat her food lol

#my art #pizza tower #the noisette #noisette pizza tower #fake peppino #fake peppino pizza tower #i present more fake peppino ms paint art since you guys absolutely devoured the last lot #mspaint #oh by the way if youre wondering what the fuck chocolate corn is its from that one comic of her and noise #you should go and look at it its funny #also also - this is my first time drawing noisette #i hope i did okay !!

[awhiskeyriver]

@eggplant8 said: I would love to see Madge’s POV of picking him up from his family and response to his blurted out confessions.

                                                      +++

   “Your grandma seems nice.” My words cut through the silent air, the first thing either of us had spoken in the twenty minutes that had passed since I picked Gale up. 

    A grunt was the only indication he gave me that I’d been heard, and he kept his gaze focused outside the window. Leg bouncing uncontrollably. Jaw clenched with tension. 

    Oookay, so he didn’t want to talk, then.

    I tapped the beat of the music on my steering wheel lightly, focusing on the dark stretch of road ahead of me leading back to Panem. 

    There’d been something exciting about the impromptu road trip when I’d first headed out to Waukesha. I liked being the person people depended on. The one that got calls in the middle of the night because a car broke down. I was curious what he was doing out there on a Thursday night, though. Last I’d heard from him he had a major test to study for. It wasn’t like I needed the play by play of his life, but it did seem strange no conversation of him going home had come up. 

    For all of the conversations we’d had, all the truth and dare games at Hoffman’s, I didn’t know all that much about his family. I knew about his three siblings, two brothers and a sister, but I didn’t even know their names. Not that I’d exactly been an open book with him either about my family. It was just that there wasn’t much to tell. We were boring in that sense. 

    There was nothing boring about Gale’s family dynamic though, and the more he kept tight lipped the more curious I became. 

    The first small glimpse I’d gotten of any of his siblings came from the little boy asleep on the couch. Even with a blanket curled up around his shoulders and face pressed into a pillow, the resemblance to Gale was uncanny. There was no denying their familial relation.

    “I can’t believe how much your little brother looks like you,” I laughed. I almost wished he’d been awake, so that I could’ve seen his eyes and his smile. Heard his voice. I wondered if their personalities were anything alike. Gale continued with his silence, only nodding his head a little and I sighed.

    “Do they live with her? Your grandma?” It seemed that way, just based on the small bit of the house I’d seen. There were backpacks and school books scattered in the dining room. An open pantry with all kinds of kid-friendly cereal inside. More than one pair of small shoes at the front entrance by the door. 

    For as little as I knew about Gale’s siblings, I knew even less about his parents. Thinking back, I wasn’t sure if the conversation had ever come up at all. If it was true, that the kids did live with Hazelle, it must’ve come with good reason.

    One of the girls in my neighborhood growing up lived with her grandparents because her mother died shortly after giving birth to her from complications. I didn’t know what happened to her father, never asked, but I remembered going to the graveyard with her every year on her mother’s birthday to place down daisy’s at the tombstone.

    For a dark moment, I wondered if something similar had happened to Gale’s parents, too.

    “Yep,” he answered, shortly, only adding to my terrible theory.

    “Oh. How long?”

    He finally looked at me, or at least turned his head in my direction. His eyes went straight through me though, lost in a thought too deep for me to reach.

    “A while.”

    “Hmm,” I hummed, trying to do the math on how old the brother I’d seen on the couch might’ve been. He’d told me his sister was eight, if she was the youngest that meant his mother couldn’t have died all that long ago. I felt a lump forming in my throat at the thought.

    “Did you grow up with her, also?” I asked quietly and then he was back in the present, eyes boring into me with irritation as his eyebrows pinched.

    “Stop,” he told me harshly, turning back to the window. “Just not tonight, okay? I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your psychoanalytical bullshit.” 

    Psychoanalytical bullshit? Wow, okay.

    “I was just asking a question,” I muttered, annoyance clear in my tone. 

    I wasn’t the only one. 

    “No, you weren’t.” 

    “Okay, why are you mad at me right now?” I shot back, unable to help it. It wasn’t like I’d dropped everything I was doing to pick him up in the middle of nowhere at two in the morning. Granted everything I was doing included hot chocolate, a face mask and a Friends re-watch, but he didn’t need to know that. I hadn’t minded the change of plans at all, but Jesus, I wasn’t going to be the scapegoat for his bad mood, either. 

    I understood his frustration. I’m sure I would’ve been stressed beyond belief if my car broke down unexpectedly in the middle of winter two hours away from campus. But everything had worked out…

    “Because you think you know everything, but you don’t,” he replied back, voice rising.

    “That’s not true…”

    “I’m not some project for you to figure out!” 

    The air was tense between us with his words and I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting to keep silent until I felt that I was in control.

    “I never said that you were,” I muttered.

    “Right,” he scoffed, tone accusatory. “You can’t help yourself, you have to get into people’s business. Well, fine, what would you like to know Dr. Undersee? That the reason my siblings live with our grandmother is because our mother is a junkie who chose drugs over her own goddamn kids?”

    His voice cracked with the confession and when I looked over he seemed on the verge of a panic attack. His breaths were shallow, as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs and his leg was bouncing uncontrollably. 

    “Gale,” I tried in what I hoped was a soothing tone rather than the anxiety I felt welling up inside of me.

    “Oh, maybe you’re dying to ask how many of us share the same father. Spoiler alert: four kids, three dads, two of which were such scum they wanted nothing to do with their kids and the third so bad it would’ve been better if he’d just left too!” 

    “You don’t have to--”

    “You want to get into how he used to beat me over something as stupid as a lost remote control?” No. No, no, no. “Or how I had to beg our neighbors for food to feed my siblings because no one remembered to go to the store? Go ahead and diagnose the hell out of me, tell me about all the reasons why I’m fucked up trash now that you’ve got all the pieces to your puzzle.”

    I wasn’t sure if he was even aware of the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over, or not. He seemed lost. Floundering. Trying to find purchase to tether him to reality but coming up short. 

    We needed to stop driving. I searched the road signs passing by quickly for the nearest exit. Five miles. 

From the corner of my eye I saw him lower his head between his knees, back rising and falling with each breath, hands clenched in hair that was coming loose from his bun. 

    “It’s okay,” I promised quietly. “Just breathe.”

    I pulled over as soon as it was safe off the highway, near a farm and a cornfield because of course. It couldn’t have been a well-lit parking lot or something. 

   Gale jumped out of the car without a word, heading closer to the creepy cornfield with his head turned up towards the sky. I wanted to go after him, but reason told me to give him a moment. Let him cool off.

   His confession still had me stunned. After months and months of vague answers and subject changes, he’d poured it all in such haste I was almost positive he would have regrets over it. 

   When minutes passed, but he remained outside, I tentatively got out to join him.

   “You can go,” he told me as my feet crunched closer in the snow. “I’ll call Peeta or something.”

   Yeah, sure. I was going to leave him in the middle of nowhere at two in the morning where the children of the corn could feast on his body before sunrise.

   “I’m...not going to do that.”

   He jerked out of my reach as my hand touched his forearm and took a few steps further down the field. 

   That’s fine. I didn’t like being touched in the middle of an attack, either. I remember my mom read one time that pressure helped to calm people down and she came and wrapped her arms around my body in a hug that felt closer to a straight jacket. I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak to tell her to stop, and when I finally managed to get air out, I screamed so loudly that she cried. 

   Focusing on Gale, not you.

   Right.

   “You’re right,” I whispered to him, and he turned his head half a fraction. Listening. “You’re not a project. I’m sorry if I treated you that way.”

   “It’s not your job to put me back together.”

   “I know that.” 

   He nodded silently and turned back towards the field as the wind whipped, picking snow up from the ground with its fury. It burned my exposed skin and I hopped a little in place to keep circulation flowing but didn’t get any closer to him.

    “Truth or dare?” I asked. We could both use the distraction, and somewhere along the line the game had become our weird way of communicating when regular forms felt like too much.

    “Truth,” he said back quietly and I couldn’t help but smile in relief.

   “Tell me something you like about yourself.”

   When he laughed, like the idea was a preposterous one, I felt my heart clench.

   “Just one thing. Anything.”

   He thought about it for a few painstaking minutes before folding his arms over his middle.

   “I’m a good brother,” he croaked. “I think.”

   “Yeah,” I smiled. “I think so, too.” 

   “Your turn.”

   I took one step closer, then stopped.

   “Truth.”

   “How do you always find the best in people? Even when they don’t deserve it.”

   The real question was easy to see between the words he spoke. How do you always find the best in me, even when I don’t deserve it?

   Like he didn’t deserve it.

   “There’s very few people in the world who don’t deserve any benefit of the doubt and you aren’t one of them,” I told him sternly, chancing another step. He didn’t move, or seem to be upset that I was closer to him, so when I chanced placing my hand in his and he didn’t flinch, I gave it a comforting squeeze.

   When his hand tightened back around mine, something inside of me jolted. 

   “Wouldn’t you rather live in a world where we all saw the best things too?”

   “Reality makes it difficult.”

   “Hmm. That’s true,” I mused. “It’s not always easy.”

   He looked down at me, exhausted and broken, and frowned.

   “I’m sorry.”

   I know.

   “Come on, it’s freezing,” I said, motioning back to the warmth--and let’s be real, safety--of the car. “Let’s get back in the car.”

   Gale was silent the rest of the way home, staring out the window with his arms folded protectively over his chest. And I let him be. When we pulled in front of his apartment, he seemed surprised that we were there, as if his mind had drifted somewhere else entirely, and he waited until he was almost out of the car to turn back and say thank you.

   “It wasn’t a problem,” I promised. It was never a problem. “Gale, I--”

   “You should go, Madge,” he interrupted. “Thank you but, you should go.”

   The door shut without another word, leaving my unfinished words in limbo.

   Gale, I’m always here.

                                                       +++

    Darius was still awake when I got home. At the sound of the door opening, he wheeled out into the hallway in his chair to look me over expectantly.

    “Well?” he asked when I said nothing. “Did all your dreams come true? Did he thank you for rescuing him with sexual favors?” 

    I burst into tears, adrenaline finally giving out now that I was back in the safety of the apartment. Darius was up in a flash, coming towards me to put a hand on either one of my shoulders.

    “Did he hurt you?” He asked, like Gale wasn’t the same guy who brought me soup when I was sick. It was a reflex reaction for him, though. To assume the worst.

    I shook my head and he brought me in closer to his chest.

    “No,” I hiccuped as he stroked my hair. “Someone hurt him.”

#eggplant8 #madge pov #the challenge #trigger warning: panic attack #the challenge spoilers #fanfic #gadge fanfic #unedited: all mistakes are mine #ill probably be editing this for like days lmao #thg

[beerecordings]

Memory - Part 3

He shivers on the floor of his cell, curled in on himself, sobbing from the cold.

Frigid air burns down against him like a solstice curse, biting venomously at his bare flesh. He used to say he preferred winter to summer, preferred a nip of cold and deep breaths of clear air as you tug up your scarf and hurry off down the icy pavement to the melting, insufferable, inescapable heat of the summertime, but this?

Hellfire runs cold.

“You look a little frosty there, Oskar.”

Oh, joy. And someone to mock him, too, just to make his life a little more perfect.

“Fuck off,” he croaks, turning around to hide his face from Anti.

“You're having another one of your crybaby days, are you?”

He digs his nails into his shoulders. If he draws some blood out, maybe it will be warm. He can't feel his nose anymore.

“I'm having hypothermia,” Henrik corrects, tears washing down his frozen cheeks. “I will die if you leave me like this.”

“Wouldn't be the worst thing.”

Henrik gives a dry sob, huddling in so tight his head hits his knees, rocking his body against the floor. He needs something to think about, anything to keep his mind off this. Warm coffee the way Marvin makes it, Jameson resting his head between his shoulderblades when he's tired, Jackie's voice, zipping around town on Chase's bike in early August, a nephew and niece set on one thigh each, nice dinners with nice girls, Marvin's cats, his room, his bed, his house, his friends.

He wants to go home.

“How about a blanket?” offers Anti.

“Ha ha,” rasps Henrik, swallowing back a cough.

“I'm serious. Look. Here it is, a nice one!”

“Well, are you planning to give it to me? Huh?”

“Calm down, Franz, of course I am. It just comes at a cost, of course. I can't give you something for nothing.”

Henrik should know better than to look. But he does. And fuck, but it's a beautiful blanket.

Fleece. Storm blue. Big enough to keep a pair of Inuit warm in an icestorm.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” he chants, covering his eyes. “You're mocking me, you're mocking me!”

Anti laughs, throwing the blanket over his shoulder. “You really don't expect anything from me anymore!”

“What? What do you want? Should I beg for you again? Do you get off on that? My other ear, would you like that? My hair, just to make sure I don't have anything at all to keep warm? Blood, you fucking vampire?”

Anti's smile is different today. His tongue flickers out over a twisted grin, one of his canines poking out to gnaw on his lip. His eyes flicker from side to side, assessing, assessing, impatient.

“Nothing so worthless as your little body today, my puppet. Don't you know I'm cold too? Just because I'm immortal doesn't mean I want to be uncomfortable. I will trade you this warmth for some of yours. Something to keep the heart cozy on lonely winter days like this one.”

Henrik's heartbeat rockets and he shoves himself farther away, scraping his back against the wall, gritting his teeth hard in his mouth.

“No,” he snarls, trembling so hard his muscles ache from it. “No, I hated that, having you take something from my head. I still don't know what I’ve up.”

“Pet, it wasn't something important. Just a couple little scenes. You picked them out yourself! And I'll let you pick this one too. Just something small, for a big, gorgeous blanket. For your life, really. I won't give you anything otherwise. And you will freeze, if you don't have it.” He beams with mismatched eyes.

“No,” whispers Henrik, turning away. Block him out. Ignore him. Think of sunlight drifting down through the window in their kitchen, making sure Jackie has enough sunscreen on his neck, his favorite sweater, the dog that lives across the street, Chase's chocolate pumpkin bread fresh out of the oven, a kiss, a hug, mittens and scarves, sleeping wrapped up in blankets on a grand Queen mattress...

“Don't ignore me, you stupid little bitch!” screams Anti, a glitch spasming through his voice and making it ring in a high-pitched whine. Henrik sobs and covers his bleeding ear, curling impossibly tighter. “I'll be back in an hour! And by then you'll be begging to hand over whole meals worth of memories for some fleece on your skin, mark my fucking words!”

Anti is gone.

Henrik is left alone with the cold, gnawing away at him like a toddler given a pig's rib to eat.

-------------------

His hair was warm beneath his fingers.

Henrik pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked up at the picture of the model on the counter in front of him, combing through the downy curls, wetting them straight with a little spray bottle which, before that day, had only ever been used to train Marvin's cats to stop scratching at the curtains. Jameson, eyes closed, relaxed, sat straight and still on his little stool, waiting for him to finish. Henrik snipped, snipped, snipped away at his hair, shorter and shorter, neater and neater.

The door pushed open across the house and he heard Marvin and Chase hollering from the cold, bringing a draft of freezing wind with them as they scampered across the doorstep. Jackie shouted a greeting and Henrik rolled his eyes as the three of them began a yelled conversation from two different sides of the house. Jamie only tittered in reply and Henrik patted his head, trying not to smile.

The heater kicked on and poured warm air down on their heads, ruffling Jameson's new haircut as Henrik finished double-checking the last few strands. He clapped a hand on his little brother's shoulder, humming to himself, and began wiping up stray pieces of brown and teal hair from the sink, leaving Jameson to consider himself in the mirror for a moment.

When he looked back up, Henrik found him smiling.

Something warm as fresh coffee rose up in Henrik's chest. Jameson grinned at him and brushed his hands through his shortened hair, pleased.

“It is very you,” said Henrik, drawing another smile out of him. “A little old-fashioned, but you pull it off.”

“Thanks to you,” answered Jameson's hands.

Henrik grinned and set his chin on top of his head, running his fingers over the side of Jameson's hair. His little brother reached up to find his hands and squeezed the fingers fondly, and for a moment, Henrik let himself rest there with him, soaking in his warmth.

“Th-that,” stammers Henrik, his hands reaching desperately through the frigid bars of his cage, scrabbling for the blanket. “Please. Take that for the blanket. He would not mind. He would not want for me to be frozen to death. Surely. Surely.”

“Sure, yeah, he wouldn't care.” Shaking with anticipation, Anti drops the blanket and leans down to grab Henrik's chin, tilting his head up towards him. His eyes are colder than the concrete, and entering into them is like his head had been put through the ice of a frozen river, but then the moment is gone, and so too is the memory of cutting Jameson's hair, and he is alone with his blanket and his shame, wondering what it was that he surrendered.

----------------

Henrik is awoken two days later by cold iron slamming against the bars of his cage.

“What, what?” he cries, jolting awake and striking his head hard on the top bars. Whimpering, he sinks back in on himself, staring tearfully up at Anti as the pain rocks through his skull.

He expects him to be laughing.

He is not laughing.

Anti's eyes are those of a dog chained away from its meat for too long and his hands tremble minutely, clenching and unclenching around the carved handle of the iron knife. He swallows and glances around the cage, his eyes finally settling back on Henrik's again.

This is not the first time Anti has looked so wild Henrik does not call him human. Shrinking in on himself, Henrik closes his eyes and prays that whatever it is that Anti has devised to entertain himself tonight will not be so horrible.

No, wait – today, not tonight. There's a little light come in Henrik's window still.

“Why are you waking me up so early?” rasps Henrik, by now adjusted completely to his brother's nocturnality. “What's wrong?”

“Shut up,” snaps Anti, drawing away from the cage. “Shut up, just – just – I want more of that. That thing you gave me.”

“The... the memory? From the other day?”

“Yes, you brainless welp, what else could you possibly have to give me? I'm bored out of mind. I'm always – I'm always so bored, you don't understand, it's like nothing ever even – in my head, nothing hurts, nothing aches, nothing – I don't feel – ”

Anti trails off, snarling, tearing at his hair. He grips the knife too tight in his hand.

Henrik watches, picking at a scar on his wrist, trying to think. This is just another puzzle. He's good at puzzles. He can figure it out. Right now, his intuition is telling him the best solution is to keep quiet and let this unfold.

“Give me a memory, Klaus,” Anti entreats him, recovering himself a little, standing up with a coy smile meant to be warm, his voice dripping with sugar. “You'll be a good boy for master, won't you? You'll give your owner a memory like a good little creature.”

Henrik shivers and rubs at his shoulders, curling up in his blanket.

“C-can't give you something for nothing,” he croaks finally, pushing his shattered glasses up on his nose.

Anti lets out a sharp bark of laughter. His eyes are bright. He holds up a finger and then retreats into the hallway, his heavy footsteps stomping away, only to return moments later with his hands full.

Henrik straightens up so fast he nearly strikes his head again, his mouth falling slightly open. He stares between Anti and his reward, trying to figure out if this is a joke or not.

“Tasty, yes? Good for you! You must keep the scurvy away, pet. Yummy, sweet. Good to drink too. Mmh, lecker!”

Henrik's fingers reach out past the bars of his cage, barely skimming the scratchy string that binds together a bulk bag of blood oranges.

“Six whole pounds,” crows Anti, pressing them a little closer, letting Henrik smell the good sweet skin. “I knew you'd love it. When was the last time you had a treat like this? Or anything to eat but yams and canned corn, ha! Come on, so, darling, it's a deal?”

He licks at his lips. Henrik tries not to lick at his own.

“Throw in a couple jugs of water and some protein.” He holds his chin up. “And I'll give you what you want.”

A ripple of glitching runs through Anti's form and he drops the oranges to the ground, stalking off again and coming back with three whole liter-jugs of water and a can of – ugh, canned tuna. It'll have to do.

“Something like last time,” Anti demands, opening the cage door. “But – but – I don't know. Bitter. Everything you give me is so sweet.”

Henrik's mouth twitches grimly as he tugs the oranges towards himself, tearing into the skin with shaking hands and eyes blown wide with the strength of his hunger and craving. He wants to shove his hand inside the orange and lick the juice off like a wild thing, wants to tear the fruit out and fill his mouth until he fucking chokes, and if it kills him, then what a way to go!

No, no! Savor it, Henrik, savor it. Staring down at the little scrap of skin, he reaches slowly up, and places it into his mouth, chewing down on the almost empty, but ever-so-slightly sweet taste of the rind.

“Puppet,” growls Anti, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don't ignore me.”

“Sorry.” Henrik chews down faster on the rind, a cold smile sitting on his cracked lips. “You said something bitter?”

“Yes. Yes.”

He can give him that.

“Well, what did I give you last time?”

Anti shuffles, tilting his head side-to-side. “Well... the point is, I want something... personal. Personal. And I want – I want – ”

He shakes his head and hisses, drawing in close. His fingers curl around the bars of the cage.

“I want something with Jameson. Something personal with Jameson. Like that haircut... him smiling at you. Stroking his hair. Give that to me, but bitter.”

Henrik's blood seems to chill against his bones.

And then he is spitting out the orange rind, shoving the bag back at Anti, and his heart is pulsing to get out of his chest. Revulsion makes him choke and shame makes his vision blur, painful sobbing hiccups interrupting rapid breaths. Anti is shouting, pressing the oranges back towards him, grabbing at his hair and slamming him back against the wall of the cage, but Henrik isn't listening, not now, not anymore.

“You will never see anything of Jameson's friendship!” he shrieks, thrashing against the grip around his throat. “You will never see anything of what it is like to be loved by him! You are nothing! He abhors you! He despises you! He doesn't belong to you and you will never get your hands on him again! Not in reality, not in my head, not on your useless, horrible, god-awful pustule of an existence!”

Anti's anger is a hurricane, enough to lift cars, enough to lift houses, sweeping across whole cities, across whole lands, with a noise like the whipping of a thousand winds. “Don't you say that to me!” howls Anti, striking him, striking him, striking him until his face is one red and purple bruise, until bones poke out from his cheek and neither of his eyes can open. “Stupid fucking brat!”

“I never should have given you anything,” wheezes Henrik, clawing at his hands. “Own my body, huh? Call me your dog? Well, Antisepticeye. You can keep me in a cage all you want – ”

Anti strikes him across the head and makes him reel, but still he is speaking.

“You can beat me within an inch of my life – ”

Or perhaps farther, he almost believes, sucking in a desperate breath.

“But you will never own my mind.”

“Little monster.” The words drip from Anti's mouth like saliva from a lion's. His eyes are pools of pitch and his lips drawn back in a fang-toothed snarl. “Stupid little monster. You really think you can keep anything from me? I will suck every memory, every moment, every fucking feeling out of that little head of yours. I will take Chase, I will take Jameson, I will take Henrik himself. There is nothing – nothing – you can do to stop me. You will never be able to hold on. You will never be able to deny me. Weak, stupid, desperate, ugly little animal.”

“Go fuck yourself,” whispers Henrik, a smile on his relentless mouth. “I will never give you another memory again.”

For a second, Anti's fist draws back yet again, and Henrik braces for a hundredth blow, his mouth tightening in a grimace.

But it never falls.

Anti's voice, when he speaks, has lost most of its vitriol.

“You really are very stupid,” he says softly. “If you think that that is true.”

His weight disappears from Henrik's chest and legs and the door of the cage clicks locked again, leaving Henrik fuzzily clinging to consciousness and alone, without even an orange to comfort him.

“You'll shatter again soon enough,” Anti promises, drawing back. “Whatever happens, you always have days where I find you in so many pieces you would give anything to try and put yourself back together again. But it does not matter. I have other methods I can use, you know. Your brothers are getting sloppy hiding from me, puppet.”

Henrik drags himself back from the brink of darkness, awakened by the words.

“Wh-what?” his aching lips manage.

Anti's laugh titters through the burning light of the afternoon.

“One day, Albert. One day you will not be the only one down here in this basement.”

No. No. Anything but that. He wants to rage at Anti. To get up and swear to him that he will never lay a hand on a single one of his brothers and friends.

But he does not have the strength.

“My name,” he whispers, as the sound of footsteps drifts away. “Is Henrik.”

He faints clean away. When he dreams, it is of clocks and button-ups and soft, downy curls between his fingers.

#torture tw #blood tw #imprisonment tw #jacksepticeye #writers of jack #henrik's memory #bee writes

[dyaz-stories]

18 for Inuyasha

Here we are! This is the conclusion to the little College AU I’ve been writing recently. I hope you’ve all enjoyed the ride, and that you will like this ending :) Happy White Day everyone!

One — Two — Three — Four — Five — ff.net — Ao3

18. “I wanna cuddle but if I start touching you I might not be able to stop.”

The knock on the door had been unexpected. It was Saturday night, and Kagome was all alone in her apartment. Usually, her and Sango would have been getting ready to watch some TV show or movie, but her friend had purely and simply abandoned her to go out with Miroku. She was happy for her, of course, but she was still taking the betrayal pretty sourly. She was getting prepared to go on with the usual program, on her own, when she’d heard it.

“Inuyasha?” she asked, confused, when she opened the door on the panting half-demon.

“Hey,” he replied, his breath short. “I heard— I mean, Sango said ya were alone tonight. And since Miroku’s left me behind too, I figured I could— join ya?”

Kagome blinked. So… Was this really just a clever set up?

“Have you been running?”

“No,” he lied, averting his eyes, “just thought you might, y’know, get out or make plans or somethin’ and I didn’t to, erm, miss ya.”

Right. Because that was convincing.

Yet Kagome’s expression softened, and she finally gave him a smile. She had been surprised to see him at her door unannounced, but she’d be lying if she said she minded. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear in a surprisingly shy gesture, and moved out of the way to let him in.

“I’d really like that,” she said softly.

She had missed him this week. She had gotten used to having him around, even if it had technically been just for four days, admittedly spanned over longer than that, and to seeing him, and… Yeah, she’d missed him. She had hoped she’d be hearing from him, especially after they had almost kissed. She could still remember the heat radiating from him, the hunger in his eyes when he’d looked at her, and just thinking about it almost sent a shiver down her spine.

But there hadn’t been anything. Sure, she could have contacted him, but, well, she felt she had given enough signs by now, hadn’t she? If he didn’t take the hint, it quite possibly meant that he didn’t want to, that he wasn’t interested. She wasn’t going to keep chasing after a guy who didn’t want her back. Even a guy she liked as much as she liked Inuyasha.

“So,” he mumbled once he was in, having kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the couch, “what’re we watching?”

She laughed and jumped on, patting the spot next to her. He let himself fall by his side. His body relaxed, and he naturally moved his arm to lay on the back of the couch.

“You can pick,” she offered, handing him the remote control. “Just don’t get anything terrible.”

“No pressure,” he grinned, and Kagome laughed.

The awkwardness of the first seconds had already vanished, and she was reminded of why she liked being around Inuyasha so much. Under his abrasive appearance, he was a fun, laid-back guy, and sure, he still tended to be a bit aggressive, he got angry faster than most people, but… But she didn’t mind a little fire.

Looking at him now, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. They were close, and for once, he wasn’t washing her dishes. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to feel his body against hers. And surely, if he was here tonight… He had to want that too, right?

“There, that’ll have to do,” he decided, and his voice brought her back to the moment when he picked a general action flick.

She nodded and grabbed the bowl of pop-corn she had prepared before. Then, she took a sharp breath, and leaned against him.

“That better be good,” she said as casually as possible, even if her heart was hammering in her chest, so hard she wondered if he could hear it.

His chest was hard against her back, and she swore she heard him growl, until he wrapped his arms around her. His embrace was perhaps just a little too tight, too tense, and yet there was something deeply protective about it. Something she was sure she could grow to love. She rested her head on his collarbone. Inuyasha took a deep breath, and this time, she was sure she heard him growl.

“Are you okay?” she asked turning to look back at him, and she found him staring at her with exactly the same expression he had just a few days earlier.

He rose a clawed hand to her face, tracing her cheeks, and she was mesmerized by everything. His eyes, his touch, his lips, so, so close to hers…

Then he moved back.

“Shit, Kagome, I wanna cuddle, I swear, but if I touch you, I might not be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” she whispered, pushing herself a little closer to him.

He cleared his throat, then forced himself to look away, reaching for his bag.

“I gotcha something, actually.”

“Oh?”

She watched as he rummaged through the bag, until he finally got to a small box.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, slowly pulling it out. “I was gonna do it right but— Well, really, it’s kinda your fault.”

“My fault?” she protested, looking away from his hand. “And what did I do this time?”

“You’re the one who let Valentine’s Day pass, and really, if you were into me…”

“I did get you chocolates for Valentine’s Day!”

“To me, and Miroku, and fucking Koga!”

And Sango, and Ayame, and Ginta and Hakkaku, and your brother, she completed in her mind, though he didn’t need to know that. What could she say? She liked letting people know she cared for them.

“I don’t see what that has to do with— What is that anyway?”

She tried to grab it, but he immediately pulled it out of her reach. She tried to climb on top of him to get to it, but he stopped her, stilling her by putting his other hand on her waist.

“Dammit, woman, what did I just say?” he snarled through gritted teeth.

“That you didn’t know if you’d be able to stop if you touched me,” she replied, breath suddenly short. “And I said you didn’t have to.”

“Sure but I’m— I’m trying and you’re not— Ugh, just sit back and let me finish.”

She rolled her eyes, but obeyed, throwing herself back against the arm of the couch. Her feet were still resting against his thigh, but he didn’t say anything about that.

“D’you know what day it is today?”

“…Saturday?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Honestly, I have no idea, Inuyasha.”

He cleared his throat.

“It’s White Day. So, erm— If you want—”

She barely looked at the chocolate box when he handed it to her. She appreciated the gesture, of course, and she would definitely enjoy the chocolates, but right now, there was something far more tempting in the room with her, and she was not going to let him get away this time.

In one feline movement, she was straddling him, legs on either side of his thighs, and her mouth was moving against his as she rolled her hips in the most sinful way. Inuyasha cursed before grabbing her hips. He pushed her down on the couch and started pulling off his shirt immediately. He wanted her. He’d wanted her for fucking weeks, if not months, and she clearly seemed to want him too.

She applied the slightest bit of pressure on his chest and he pulled away, worried. He was much stronger than her, and he’d always been stronger than his lovers, so he had learned to be extremely careful when it came to that sort of cues. Still, despite her actions one second before, despite the way she had acted with him recently, he couldn’t help but fear that she was going to reject him.

It was, as it turned out, quite the opposite.

“Just to be clear,” she said breathlessly, “I like you, Inuyasha. This can’t be a one time thing, or— Hmph!”

He shut her up with another kiss, almost feral this time, and he bit her lower lip playfully. A one time thing? As if he’d ever let her go…

The box of chocolates laid forgotten on the table next to them. It had served its purpose, sort of, and it would make for a nice after sex snack, which Kagome would appreciate highly.

For now, though, there was something else she was dying to get a taste of…

#inuyasha #inuyasha white day #inukag #kagome #kagome higurashi #my writing #asks #requests #fluff #college au #aaah this was fun! #i might write more mini-fics like that in the future if anyone's interested ^^ #hope you guys liked it!

[rigonelli]

Hey i absolutely looove your writing its the best!! I was wondering if you could do a prompt where mo and he tain go to a corn maze and maybe get lost or they carve pumpkins since its fall

Guan Shan rounded another corner only to walk right into a dead end.

“Alright, that’s it!” he said. “We’re officially lost.”

He Tian, whose stupid idea it had been in the first place, didn’t seem too worried. He shrugged his shoulders and turned around, pulling Guan Shan by the sleeve to try the next corner.

“I knew this would happen!” Guan Shan ranted. He was sick of seeing nothing but corn. The stalks had grown so high and dense that it was impossible to walk through them. What kind of people went to corn mazes anyway? It was pointless, cold, and no fun. They hadn’t met a single person the whole way through, which made it eerie to boot.

“Don’t worry,” He Tian said, seeing Guan Shan frown. “I took precautions in case this would happen.”

“Why didn’t you say so before? Did you print out the outlines of the maze?”

“No,” He Tian said, smiling. The smile looked more devious than it had to be and Guan Shan knew he wouldn’t like those precautions.

“I came up with a ton of corn puns to pass the time.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I know,” said He Tian, grin widening. “I shuck.”

Guan Shan was tempted to just run away and leave He Tian behind. But he knew that would only result in him wandering lost around the maze all night while He Tian called his brother to come help him out. He Cheng would probably send Qiu with his motorcycle to mow down the corn stalks and Guan Shan couldn’t miss that.

“I hope you’re not fantasizing about kicking me in the nuts with that dreamy expression,” He Tian said.

“No, I’m fantasizing about a prince coming to save me on a black stallion.”

“You’re fantasizing about other people on our first date? That’s corncerning.”

Great, he really meant to go through with it.

“Not a first date!”

“You’re right. We’ve had so many dates, I’ve lost cornt.”

“Not a date, period,” Guan Shan snapped. “Don’t just go around assuming things!”

“I’m not assuming. I asked!” He Tian insisted. “You were asleep, but you snored very affirmingly!”

Guan Shan ground his teeth. He never should have spent the night at He Tian’s. He had always known that something would happen. After all these months he had grown careless. It wasn’t as easy masking one’s feelings in the early morning hours as it was the rest of the day. Guan Shan didn’t remember what he had said in his half-sleep, but ever since, He Tian seemed to know.

“Oops,” said He Tian, staring at the dead end just ahead. “Wrong way again.”

“Maybe we should try that trick with following the right wall,” said Guan Shan.

“Maize well,” He Tian nodded. Guan Shan really felt like punching him.

They went quiet for a while, Guan Shan’s right hand brushing along the corn stalks as they walked. He tried to pay no mind to his other hand, which He Tian had taken in his as if they could get separated at any moment.

“It’s creepy that there’s no one else here,” Guan Shan said after he had failed to ignore their hand-holding.

“I know, right? It feels like we’re being…” He Tian leant over to whisper in his ear, “Stalked!”

Guan Shan had no problem letting go of his hand for that.

“I have a little present for you,” said He Tian, unfazed. He reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a tiny pumpkin. A face was carved in it.

“What am I supposed to do with this? Eat it if we don’t make it out?”

“No,” He Tian said slowly, as if Guan Shan was stupid for not understanding. “I don’t think it’s possible to starve in a corn maze anyway. Did you know you can eat-“

“I’ll punch you!”

“The pumpkin reminded me of you,” said He Tian.

“I can see that. You carved my face into it. I don’t look happy.”

“It’s small, red, and delicious. Like you.”

“It’s also angry. Like me,” Guan Shan said, pointing to his own expression, which He Tian had captured quite realistically.

“So you don’t like it?”

“Why would I like it? It’s a shit present!” Guan Shan ripped the pumpkin from He Tian’s hand, shaking it in He Tian’s face. “Look at that! What am I supposed to do with it? You could have brought a flare gun – that I would have been very thankful for!”

“Really? How thankful exactly?” asked He Tian.

That asshole! If he seriously had a flare gun and not lost a word about it so far, Guan Shan was going to punch him. He pocketed the pumpkin, trying hard to breathe deep and relax. All he wanted right now was to get out of this stupid maze. There was a little restaurant not far from the corn field. They could go and warm up with a cup of hot chocolate and some cake. It was essential that Guan Shan didn’t lose his cool now, if he wanted that little fantasy to become reality.

“I’d be so thankful… that I’ll let you call this a date,” he said through ground teeth.

“It is a date. You can call it whatever you want. What else?”

“I’ll… erm… I’ll…” He could feel his face heat up again. “Hold your hand?”

“Boring,” said He Tian. “We did that five minutes ago. You shouldn’t have spoilt me before.”

“I’ll laugh at your corny jokes!”

“It’s more fun when you hate them.”

“Fuck!” Guan Shan cursed, kicking at a corn stalk. Truth be told, he would do anything to get out of here. Even some things he had tried very hard never to think about – at least when he was awake. He couldn’t really help it when he dreamed. But this… this was a life-and-death situation, wasn’t it? He had no choice. He Tian was practically blackmailing him here.

“You are the lowest of all creatures and I want you to know that I hate you from the bottom of my heart!” Guan Shan said, just before he seized He Tian by the jacket collar, tiptoed, and pecked He Tian on the lips.

When he pulled back, He Tian had turned to stone. It was confusing enough to keep Guan Shan’s head from exploding, at least.

“What?” Guan Shan asked when a minute had passed and He Tian still just stared at him, mouth slightly open, eyes unblinking.

“It’s just… I wouldn’t have expected that action to be followed by those words,” He Tian finally said. His voice sounded a little higher than usual.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I mean… yes?” He Tian said, still looking shocked. “But you never gave me anything I wanted so freely.”

“I didn’t give it freely! You blackmailed me!”

“What? How?”

“The flare gun!” Guan Shan said. “You forced me to be thankful for-“

“I don’t have a- why would I have a flare gun? It was just a rhetorical question.”

“You don’t have a…” Guan Shan turned around and sank to the ground, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my- FUCK!”

Behind him, he could hear He Tian laughing. It sounded more hysterical than anything.

“SHUCK UP!” Guan Shan shouted. He didn’t know why it came out as a pun – maybe it was some kind of defense mechanism. He Tian only laughed more. Guan Shan let him, too busy trying to persuade the ground to open up and swallow him.

After the laughter had trickled away, Guan Shan felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. The right-wall-trick will lead us out sooner or later. And I promise I won’t tell anyone about our little misunderstanding just now. Alright?”

It was a sensible suggestion. More sensible than Guan Shan would have thought He Tian capable of.

“Treat me to hot chocolate when we get out,” Guan Shan said, letting He Tian pull him to his feet. He didn’t protest when He Tian didn’t let go of his hand.

“I’ll treat you to so much hot chocolate that you’ll want to puke.”

“That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“And when you puke, I’ll hold your hair back for you.”

“There isn’t anything to hold back-“

“And if I’m not mistaken, that thing over there looks like the scarecrow that welcomed us into the maze.”

Guan Shan looked up, and indeed, there was an ugly scarecrow looking at him from the other end of the path.

They had found the exit.

“Oh,” said Guan Shan, slowing down a little. He hadn’t expected to get out so soon.

“What’s wrong?” asked He Tian.

“Nothing. Just… about before…”

Guan Shan turned his head away, hoping he wouldn’t blush too hard.

“You’re really not gonna tell anyone, right?”

“What happens in the maze, stays in the maze,” He Tian promised. “There’s only one thing I’ll tell people if they ask.”

“What’s that?”

He shouldn’t have asked, because the question summoned that grin back onto He Tian’s face. The pun grin.

“That our first date was absolutely A-maize-ing!”

#19 days #old xian #tianshan #tianshan fic #fanfiction #my fics #mo guan shan #he tian #he tian x mo guan shan

[crazymarvelsuperfamily]

Hi! I honestly love all the work you've posted so far and honestly enjoy how you portray Peter's relationships with the Avengers. I was also wondering, how would Peter introduce his friend, a nonbinary trans hero, to his adoptive family?

I present to you this:(which is written with a mother of all headaches from concussion so please don’t @ me…) much love, Ren x

To Peter, MJ was more than just a friend. They were a complete, utter, total, God-send. While Peter had his Spidey-sense, MJ had their common-sense – and a knack for stopping Peter from causing a disaster everywhere he went. The whole of the team had always been super supportive of Peter, and always wanted to know how he was, and whether he’d had a good day at school. And Nat had always been keen to meet Peter’s friends. Ned, Peter’s “guy in the chair”, had met Tony at first by accident. He happened to stop by to show Peter a new lego set, while Stark was at the apartment, “enjoying” a slice of May’s date loaf. Once his “fan-girling”, had at last subsided, and Tony managed to get some coherent sentences out of him, Ned was immediately accepted into Peter’s rather crazy, and slightly dysfunctional family. It didn’t take him long before he was joining the team for movie nights, press conferences, and even sleeping over with Peter. 

Nat noticed pretty quickly, that a certain MJ repeatedly appeared in stories told by both Ned and Peter, and was intrigued to meet… well, she wasn’t really sure if MJ was a he or a her… But what she did know, is that he/she (?) was a definite member of they boys’ friend circle, especially after Ned referred to them all as “the three musketeers.” She tried to gently prompt Peter to bring MJ home repeatedly, but Peter for some reason always got rather defensive. Nat assumed MJ was a crush or something, but not wanting to upset Peter, she let things slide.

It wasn’t that Peter was ashamed to have a non-binary friend, hell, if MJ was a fucking giraffe he’d still be thankful for just how amazing they were. It was just, he was hesitant for them to meet his family. Steve and Bucky were from the 40s – Peter wasn’t even sure if they knew that there are more than two genders. Nat had always seemed pretty uptight, Bruce was a fan of the awkward “when you get a girlfriend….” – always assuming Peter was straight, and well, although Tony was an obvious chaotic bisexual, Peter couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t act adversely to the prospect of Peter having a non-binary friend. So, the team remained in the dark about MJ, and eventually, Peter had thought that they would have forgotten about them, after almost 3 months without a mention.

Tony was just waiting for the last few parcels of presents to be delivered. Peter’s 16th had to be special. He had spoken to the boy on numerous occasions, and he was adamant that he did not want a massive party, “no Tony, not even if you booked AC/DC.” So, he had finally managed to settle on a pretty small occasion. The whole team was coming over (plus Clint’s family) and May and Ned. They were just going to have a fairly quiet evening and spend some time together. That was when Tony remembered Peter had a friend… was it MJ?? Somewhere in his database, he found Ned’s number, and sent him a text, asking him to invite MJ. The reply he got was hopeful, but not definite, about the appearance of this secret friend at the party. 

Peter had had a pretty crap day. If it wasn’t for the massive flashing 16 badge pinned to his blazer, no one would have known it was his birthday. Not with 4 pop quizzes in 5 classes, and two essays set – oh yeah, and the group project with Flash. He had missed the bus that morning, and there was a heavy downpour, so to top the day off, he had spent it walking around in sodden sneakers. His hopes were lifted slightly, at the sight of the sleek black Bentley parked directly in front of the school gates, but neither Happy nor Tony were sitting waiting for him, so he miserably made his way to the bus stop. He was almost at his stop, when he got a brief text from Happy inviting him to the tower, so he impatiently sat through the further 45 minutes of his journey. But barely five seconds later, his phone powered off. Shme, some birthday Peter muttered under his breath.

By the time he arrived at the tower, he was borderline fuming, in desperate need of a change of clothes, and completely not down to spend the evening in the lab with Tony. He’d bet all $30 from May that Tony had forgotten the date anyway. “Peter Parker.” He growled into the microphone.“Insufficient authentication. Registered voice required.” FRIDAY replied distantly.“FRIDAY, what the hell? You know its me. Let me in already.”“Sorry, Mr Parker, the protocols boss set do not permit your entrance unless you use the correct voice activation.”“Peter?” He tried to ask chirpily, hoping that he would be allowed in.“Incorrect.”“spiderman”“incorrect”“Spiderling”“incorrect.”“Crime-Fighting-Spider”“incorrect”“Spider-Boy”“incorrect”“Underoos”“incorrect”“Spider-Guy on YouTube”“incorrect”Peter rolled his eyes. Tony had threatened to change his name the other day when Peter drank the last of the milk straight from the carton. “Little Bastard in Red Tights”“Welcome, Little Bastard in Red Tights.” FRIDAY almost sang, as the elevator doors slid open and took him up to the Common Floor.

When the doors opened again, revealing a tidied room, lined with balloons. Food was spread out across the table, and an extremely huge pile of presents took up a large amount of floor space. From out of every corner of the room, The Avengers sprung, each with a party hat and one of those cheap horn things. A smile instantly broke on his face as he scanned the room – everyone was there – the whole team – Laura and the kids, Ned, May, MJ… wait, MJ? Peter double took. They stood right in the middle, having popped up from behind a couch. They waved at Peter, revealing their graphic T-shirt that read “They/them pronouns, get over yourself. I’m valid.”

Steve was surprised when he met MJ, not because they were non-binary, but because Peter was scared to introduce them to him. And he suspected that he and Bucky were the ones that caused Peter to be hesitant about introducing MJ to the team. Sure, he was from the 40s, but that didn’t mean he held their values. Heck, he’d been in a relationship with Bucky since not long after the Accords. Besides, times had changed in 70 years – understandment of gender wasn’t at all what it used to be. Steve couldn’t care less who MJ identified as, as long as they were a good friend to Peter. And, in the short hour between MJ and Ned arriving at the tower in the Bentley, and Peter turning up soaking wet from walking (God, Tony needs to give the kid a break – and a towel…) MJ appeared to be one of the best friends Peter could possibly have. They were quick, witty, and super intelligent, but most importantly, they were sensible – and Peter needed nothing more than a sensible friend.

That evening made Peter’s birthday the best one ever – even with the awful day he had had. For once, Tony had actually listened to him, and didn’t throw the biggest party of the year – instead, he had a movie night with the people he was closest to. They watched Empire Strikes back, Peter’s favourite film of all time, and ate more pop corn than anyone of them would care to admit. Peter sat in the middle of the long sofa with his legs curled under a blanket. May sat to one side of him leaning onto his shoulder, and to the other, MJ slumped with a large bag of chocolate. It was late before everyone left (except for May, who had to excuse herself early for an emergency shift, asking Tony if it was alright for Peter to stay over – which it obviously was) MJs father collected them and Ned, Laura – who was invited to stay over, started the drive home with the kids and Clint. Then slowly, the rest of The Avengers dispersed and left for their own floor. By the end of the credits scene, only Peter and Tony remained in the room. “Hey Pete?”“yeah Mr Stark.”“Happy Birthday.”“Not any more Mr Stark – my birthday was over an hour ago.”“It is if you’re in Malibu.”“But we aren’t?” Peter yawned.“Not right now, but I thought a part of your birthday present could be a trip to the mansion with your friends.”Peter’s eyes lit up, “really?!”“Yeah kid.” Tony replied softly, ruffling Peter’s soft curls as he walked past him. “I’ve already spoken to Ned and MJ’s parents, and they’re down for it.”“MJ too?” Peter asked.“Yeah – they’re one of your best friends, aren’t they?” Tony asked, slightly nervously.“Obviously – I was just worried to introduce them to you – you know, with being non-binary…”“Peter,” Tony said seriously, looking the boy in the eyes, “don’t you ever feel afraid to introduce anyone to me or to the rest of the team. I will gladly support you and your friends, and so will the rest of the team, unless they want an iron fist to answer to. That is, as long as you don’t bring home that God awful Wade Wilson.”

#iron dad #Precious Peter Parker #nb mj #marvel prompt #MCU fanfiction #short fic

[thelastspeecher]

Spy AU - Toxin, pt. 1.5

Randomly, last night, I sat down and wrote this.  It takes place shortly after the first thing I wrote with the toxin.  After getting targeted by an enemy while on a mission, Ford is attacked with a toxin that reverts him to being a three-year-old.  In this ficlet, Stan and Angie are taking Ford to find clothes that will fit him and don’t belong to his nieces.  It...doesn’t go as well as any of them would like, but at least Ford gets ice cream before they head home.

              Ford stopped in the middle of the aisle.  While he caught his breath, he looked around at the shelves, covered with various brands of chips and snacks.  The song playing over the store intercom changed from country to pop.  He was staring blankly at a bag of corn chips when Stan rushed back to him.

              “Geez, Sixer, don’t scare me like that,” Stan said, putting a hand on Ford’s shoulder.  “We thought you got kidnapped or something.”  Stan followed Ford’s gaze.  “…Do you want chips?  Is that why you stopped following us?”

              “Not really,” Ford mumbled.

              “Okay.  Why did you do that, then?”

              “I don’t wanna say.”  Ford ducked his head.

              “C’mon.”

              “…My legs got tired,” Ford said reluctantly.  “I was- I was just taking a short break, that’s- that’s all.”  His already small voice got smaller and smaller as his sentence went on.

              “Oh.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  Ford frowned at him.  He clearly had something to say.

              “What?”

              “Nothin’.”

              “Stanley.”  Ford crossed his arms in a gesture more mature than one would normally see in someone his apparent age.  “You’re holding back.  You’ve got a suggestion or comment or something.  Spit it out.”

              “Fine.  There’s a really easy solution to your problem.  Two, actually.”

              “Is one of them finding somewhere to sit for a little while?” Ford asked. Stan shook his head.  Dread began to build in Ford’s chest.  “I’m not going to like it, am I?”

              “No.  No, you aren’t.”  Stan sighed. “Look, you’ve got tiny legs now. Just a fact.  You take a lot more steps than I do to go the same distance.”

              “…I know this.”

              “Yeah, but I’m reminding you, so that…maybe my suggestions don’t upset you as much.”  Stan stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “The way I see it, you’ve got two options, like I said.  Option one is you riding in the cart.”

              “In the baby seat?  No!  I explicitly said I wouldn’t do that, back at the house.”

              “Option two,” Stan continued, “is having me or Angie carry you.”  Ford’s jaw dropped open.  “You can’t keep up with us, Sixer.  You know that.  So if we wanna finish shopping and head back home quickly, you have to choose one of those options.  Your suggestion – taking a break – would take a long time.  ‘Cause it wouldn’t be just one break.  It’d be a lot.  We haven’t even been here a full twenty minutes and you’re already too tired to keep walking.”  Stan smiled sheepishly at Ford.  “It sucks, but them’s the breaks.”

              “I- I can’t do either of those,” Ford whispered.  “You- you can’t make me choose!”  Stan sighed and crouched down to Ford’s eye-height.

              “Either you choose, or I do,” he said firmly.  “I don’t like it, either.  But sometimes you don’t have any good options.”  Ford looked down at his feet.

              “I- I don’t wanna choose,” Ford whispered.  Stan sighed again.

              “Carrying you, it is.”

              “No!  I won’t do it!” Ford protested, stomping his foot instinctively.  He froze, the immaturity of his action crashing over him. Stan scowled and scooped Ford up in his arms, then stood to his full height again.

              “Don’t talk to me like that,” he scolded.  Ford swallowed nervously.

              “S-sorry, I didn’t-” he squeaked out.  Stan groaned.

              “Shit, no, Ford.  I’m- I was the one who fucked up there.  I’ve heard that sorta stuff from my daughters a million times, and I slipped into ‘Dad Mode’. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

              “No, I- that was a reasonable reaction,” Ford said quietly.  “It’s- it’s how you would respond if I was actually a petulant child.  We are in public.”  Stan sighed one more time.

              “Still.  Well, uh, let’s, uh, let’s go find Angie, okay?” he said, feigning a cheerful tone. Ford nodded.  Stan set off.  Ford frowned, frustrated at how much faster they were moving, now that Stan was the one walking.  After a few moments, they found Angie perusing clearance dresses.  “Ang, I found him.”  Angie looked up.  She beamed.

              “Ya most certainly did!  You ready to find some clothes, Stanford?” she chirped.  Ford nodded reluctantly.  Angie paused for a moment, watching the two brothers.  She cocked her head.  “Uh, aren’t ya goin’ to put ‘im down?”  Ford buried his face in Stan’s shirt so that he could pretend he didn’t hear how Stan replied.  Unfortunately, his hearing wasn’t impeded whatsoever.

              “His legs got a bit tired is all,” Stan said.

              “Ah.  Okay.” Angie’s tone was mild, but Ford felt a hot flush rush across his face.  He squeezed his eyes shut.  Stan patted his back gently, but while the gesture was supposed to be comforting, it just frustrated Ford more.  They started moving again.  Ford could hear Angie humming softly.

              Why does she do that so much? It’s- it’s- His agitation began to slip away.  -it’s very soothing.  He sighed.  Angie knows what she’s doing.  So does Stan, for that matter.  They’re both excellent parents.  His comfortable position, snuggled against Stan’s chest, was disrupted as Stan carefully peeled him off and set him down on the ground. Ford looked up at Stan.  Stan chuckled and ruffled his hair.

              “That’s a damn cute face, Sixer.”  Ford blinked at the compliment.  Stan grinned. It was the affectionate smile of someone looking at an endearingly adorable child.

              “Stanford, sweetheart, come over here,” Angie called.  Ford looked over.  Angie was standing next to a display of various shirts, frowning at a sweater emblazoned with the Loch Ness Monster on the front.  “This looks like somethin’ ya might enjoy.”  Ford walked over to where Angie was standing.  She held the sweater up.  “Right size, seems like.”  Ford stared silently at the sweater.  In Angie’s hands, its minute size was clear.  He glanced past Angie, at a nearby boy being helped by a woman he assumed was the child’s mom.  Distress churned in Ford’s stomach.

              I’m…so small right now.  That- that literal toddler is taller than me.

              “Well?” Angie asked.  “Do ya like it?”

              “Yeah, it’s- it’s fine,” Ford choked out.  Angie set the sweater back on the display and crouched down.  Ford determinedly looked away from her worried gaze. He hurriedly wiped away a couple tears that had escaped from his eyes.  “I- I like it.”

              “Hon, are you all right?” Angie asked softly.  Ford let out a loud sniff.  Seemingly summoned by the noise, Stan appeared at Ford’s side.

              “Bud?” Stan asked quietly, crouching next to Ford.  “Somethin’ wrong?”  Ford clenched his hands into fists and pressed them tight against his eyes. “Ang, you’ve got his size now, right? Think you can handle it on your own?”

              “Sure,” Angie said.  “Just keep yer phone on ya, and I’ll find ya when I’m done.”  Ford felt Stan carefully pick him up.  He let out a sob.

              “C’mon, buddy,” Stan said soothingly, rubbing his back.  “We’re gonna go for a little walk, okay?”

              “B-but the clo- the clothes,” Ford sobbed.

              “Angie’s gonna handle it.  She’s better at this stuff anyways.  Wanna go to the food court?”

              “I- I-”

              “Yeah, let’s go to the food court,” Stan continued.  “Get some ice cream.  Okay?”

              “O- okay.”  Stan began to walk.  Ford could hear the change from the generic radio station to the faint background chatter of the mall thoroughfare.  Stan was humming to himself like he often did when doing everyday tasks.  The mundanity of the sound calmed Ford.  He finally opened his eyes and peered over Stan’s shoulder.  Immediately, he wished he hadn’t.  There were two teenage girls walking behind Stan, clearly having spent a full day shopping. They were also clearly watching Ford with wide eyes.  One of the girls, short with red hair piled in buns, saw Ford looking at them and elbowed her much taller friend excitedly.  Her friend gasped and covered her mouth.

              “Oh, my gosh, he’s so cute!” the taller of the two girls gushed.  Ford looked away, blushing.

              “You scared him!” the other girl said.  Stan’s pace picked up.

              “Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Stan said softly.  “Just ignore ‘em.”  Ford nodded silently.

              After a few more incidents of Ford catching people watching him, they finally arrived at the food court.  Ford let out a relieved sigh.  They went through the line at the ice cream place without incident, but Ford’s delicate good mood was strained by Stan grabbing a booster seat for Ford to sit on at a table.  As Stan set up the booster seat and put Ford in it, Ford stared at him pleadingly.

              “Please don’t do this,” Ford whispered.  Stan’s expression was wracked with guilt.

              “…I don’t have a choice.  Not- not only would it be suspicious, but it’s not safe.  You have to use the booster.”  Seemingly acting on instinct, he kissed the top of Ford’s head.  “All right, eat up.  Can’t let it melt.”  Stan handed Ford his scoop of butter pecan in a dish and took a seat, then attacked his own treat, a chocolate cone.  A few bites into his ice cream, Ford could feel himself perking up.

              “Excuse me?”  Stan and Ford looked over.  The speaker was a woman neither of them recognized, holding a baby carrier occupied by a sleeping infant.

              “Uh, you talking to me?” Stan asked.  The woman nodded.

              “I was just wondering – how did you teach your son such good table manners?” she asked.  Stan frowned.

              “My son?” he asked.  Ford coughed quietly.  Stan looked at him.  His eyes widened.  “Oh, yeah, uh- he, uh-”  Stan’s stammering was suddenly replaced by a suave demeanor, as he slipped into his spy training.  He beamed. “Stan Junior here, he didn’t get that from me.  You’d have to ask his stepmom.  She’s the one that taught him all his good manners.”  Stan grinned at Ford.  “Isn’t that right, Junior?”  Ford stared silently at him, unsure of what a three-year-old in this situation would do. Stan chuckled.  “He’s a bit shy.”

              “Aw, well, I am some strange, random lady that walked up to the two of you,” the woman said with a laugh.  “Thanks anyways.”

              “No problem.”

              “Have a good day, Stan Junior,” the woman cooed at Ford.  She walked away.  Ford scowled.

              “Really?  Stan Junior?” he hissed.

              “It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

              “I thought you were better than that at improvisation.”

              “Hey, that coulda gone way worse,” Stan said defensively.  “Finish your ice cream.”

              “Ya didn’t get me anything?” a familiar voice asked.  Angie took a seat at their table.  Stan grinned.

              “Nah.  This was a special treat for just us guys.  Right, buddy?” Stan said, winking at Ford.  Ford quirked a small smile; Stan’s exuberance was contagious.

              “Hon, I think ya can lay it off a bit,” Angie said quietly.  “Not many folks ‘re payin’ attention.  There’s plenty of cute lil kidlets at the food court.”

              “Oh.  Yeah.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “Dammit.  I’ve been slipping into ‘Dad Mode’ with Ford a lot.”  Angie put a hand on Stan’s back.

              “Yer adjustin’.  We all are.” She looked at Ford.  “How are ya holdin’ up?”  Ford shrugged.

              “All right, I guess.”  He poked at his ice cream.  “Didn’t like the people who kept looking at me,” he muttered.  Angie frowned, confused.

              “Buncha teens and old ladies thought he was cute and stared at him,” Stan explained.

              “Ah.  Well, that’d happen, since ya are mighty cute,” Angie said.  Ford sighed.

              “Yeah, I…I guess it’s a curse.”  Angie and Stan chuckled.  Stan shoved the last bit of his ice cream cone into his mouth and stood.

              “I’m gonna hit the john before we head out.”  He kissed Angie on cheek.  “Back in a minute, babe.”

              “I’ll hold ya to that, darlin’,” Angie said teasingly.  Stan walked off, ruffling Ford’s hair on the way.  Angie moved closer to Ford.  “Here.”  She carefully messed with his rambunctious curls, returning them to something more closely resembling a neat hairstyle.  “Better?”

              “Yeah.  Thanks.”

              “It ain’t no problem, sugar-cube.”  Angie grimaced.  “Oh. Whoops.  Sorry ‘bout that.”

              “It’s fine.  No worse than Stan scolding me earlier, or him carrying me everywhere.”

              “He calls ya ‘buddy’ a lot, too, I noticed.”

              “I don’t mind that as much.”

              “Good.  ‘Cause I don’t see that lettin’ up any time soon.  Stan, uh, he really wants a son.  Lately, I’ve caught him mumblin’ in his sleep ‘bout throwin’ a football to someone he calls ‘sport’.”  Angie smiled sheepishly.

              “That might explain why when a lady asked about me, he called me Stan Junior,” Ford commented.  Angie laughed.

              “Oh, that’s right!  He put that name on the list.  I told him that under no condition would I name my son Stan Junior, but he didn’t care.” Ford cocked his head.

              “Are- are you and Stan-”

              “No,” Angie interjected.  She shook her head.  “Not- not yet, at least.  Just talking about trying again.”

              “Remember the last time you and Stan were ‘just talking’?” Ford said, raising an eyebrow.  Angie chuckled.

              “I remember.  I remember very well what happened. We’re tryin’ to be a bit more careful this time.”  Angie smiled warmly.  “Sorry that yer trip to the mall was so upsettin’.  Hopefully I picked out some clothes that ya like.”

              “You have good taste.  I’m sure it’s fine,” Ford said with a shrug.  Stan returned to the table.

              “All done with your ice cream?” Stan asked.  Ford stuffed the last bite into his mouth, swallowed, and nodded. “Great.  Let’s get goin’.  Want me to pick you up again, Sixer?  We’d get to the car faster that way.”

              “I know,” Ford said.  “And I’m feeling slightly better about that particular fact now.  But…maybe Angie would carry me?”  Stan’s mouth fell open in a surprised “O”.

              “Ya sure?” Angie asked.

              “You two are incredibly surprised by this,” Ford remarked.

              “I mean, ya did know Stan when ya were this age the first time ‘round,” Angie said.  Ford shrugged.

              “Fair enough.  But Stan claimed you were my stepmom, and that’s something a stepmom would do, right? And I don’t think I can handle the embarrassment of my younger brother carrying me again.  At least, not today.”

              “If yer sure,” Angie said.  Ford nodded. Angie stood and picked Ford up from his booster seat.  As she carefully nestled Ford into a comfortable position, he thought about how this was different from being carried by Stan.  Her patterned blouse was softer than Stan’s T-shirt, and she smelled like citrus and sweet peas, much more appealing to Ford than Stan’s usual aroma of motor oil, cigar smoke, and whiskey.  “Comfy?” Angie asked.

              “As I’ll ever be,” Ford said.  Angie stroked his back.

              “That’s good enough fer me.  Let’s head home.”

#this was another instance of me writing and writing and unable to shut up #not seen in this is when Ford has to ride on Angie's lap to the mall #bc he's too smol to be in a seat by himself #and Stan and Angie didn't want to put him in a car seat so soon after being de-aged #the next time they take Ford somewhere in the car #he has to use a car seat #but the first time they go a bit easier on him #Spy AU #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #my writing #my stuff #ficlet #speecher speaks

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #470

“how can you choose to let the blind see better than you?”

What was the main character called in the last film you watched? Dewey. What would you name your pet snake if you had one? It would depend on its appearance. The snake I have now is named Venus because of her coloration. Do you like peanuts? Only if they're covered in chocolate or in granola bars in small portions. Have you ever gambled? What was your biggest loss/win? No. What was the last movie you watched? Who did you watch it with? Girt and I watched School of Rock together. What do you eat for breakfast? Excluding the rare occasions my mom cooks something, usually cereal or a sandwich. Do you have a Flickr? I do, but it's abandoned. Anything exciting happening in the month of September? No. When was the last time you had an ice cream sandwich? Oh man, it's been too long. I really want one now. Do you eat breakfast daily? Yeah. What was the last thing to scare you? "Scare" is a strong word, but I was very, very nervous to hear what weight I'd gained since my last doctor's appointment. Do you like mustard? Yeah, I do. Do you have a desktop computer or laptop? A laptop. Do you like to play Jenga? I guess? I don't really have an opinion on it. Do you like Fresca? Not very, but I'll drink it if I really want a soda and it's the only option. How many towels do you use after a shower? Just one. Would you ever flash a cop if you knew you'd get out of a ticket? Um, no thank you. What is your favorite thrill ride ever? I don't like those. I'm afraid of puking or fainting. Biggest irrational fear? Truly irrational, probably whale sharks. Favorite movie sequel? Hm. If you had endless funds, where would you buy most of your clothes? Cloak and Rebel's Market. How many jobs have you had? Three, technically. What is your favorite thing to do in your city? Oh hun, fun doesn't exist here. This place sucks. Have you ever gone strawberry picking? Ha ha, yes... but I was a little kid that absolutely gorged on the strawberries instead of putting them in my basket. The person that worked there didn't make my mom pay for what I did or anything, but they made a joke about weighing me to check the damage I did, ha ha. My face was COVERED in strawberry juice. I wish I could actually remember the occasion, but I was too young. How many times have you seen a doctor this month? It feels like a lot. >_< I had to get blood drawn for two different things on separate appointments, I had a follow-up appointment with my primary physician about my weight, I recently spoke to my therapist and psychiatrist... Could you pull off orange hair? I've actually considered like, a light creamsicle orange. I actually edited a photo of me with my current hair style trying different colors, and that tint looked pretty cute. Do you shave your legs? It sounds dumb, but yes, now that I'm in a relationship. I feel obligated to at least try and be attractive by societal standards. I know it seriously doesn't matter, but I would be so inexplicably mortified if he saw my unshaven legs kalsdj;flkasdjwe What type of weather is your favorite? Snowy! Coolest place you've ever been? Disney World, probs. Do you like corn on the cob? Yeah, man. Have you ever waited tables? No. Build your favorite pizza. Soft pan crust, your average amount of sauce and a good amount of cheese with various meats on it. What did you last get fancy for? I wouldn't say I got like, super fancy, but I wore a nice shirt and a necklace when Girt came over for the first time as a couple. I thought we were actually leaving the house to go out to dinner, but the plan was actually to have Buffalo Wild Wings delivered. It was totally fine by me, I'd just misunderstood. Dream pet? A female Brazilian Black tarantula named Black Betty. :') Do you tend to get clingy in relationships? I know I do. What is the last horror movie you watched? It's sad that I don't know. :( Would you be grossed out if your best friend mooned you? No, I'd just be extremely confused lmao. What is the last thing that you drank? Milk. Currently popular song that you can't stand? I have zero idea what songs are popular right now. What is the weather like right now? Too fuckin' hot to be mid-September. Do you have favorite type/brand of pen? I mean, I like the feel of gel pens. I don't know about brands. What is your go-to snack at the convenience store? Some form of Reese's. Popular drink that you dislike? Coffee shocks the most people. What TV show are you waiting on to return/create a new season? None. What is something you currently want but cannot afford? Oh, dear. -_- Do you have sensitive skin? Very. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Do you have an older sister? Three that I know, one that I don't really count because I know nothing about her and have never spoken to her. What color is your mum’s car? White. Do you live in an apartment? No. Cats are usually cuter than dogs right? Kittens are generally cuter than puppies, imo. Where do you keep your kitty litter box? It has to stay in my bedroom, which I hate. Mom insists on in being in here so I don't forget to clean it. My memory is awful, but I'm preeeetty sure I'd remember to give my cat a clean place to use the bathroom if it was kept in the spare room by the door... Are you rude to little children? No; even if I don't really like kids, that is something I definitely avoid. Kids should never lose their hope in or love for humanity, and I would absolutely hate to be one of those people that makes the human race appear unpleasant. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? BY FAR. He's a mailman so is out in the sun nearly every day, so he's pretty damn dark to be Caucasian. I wouldn't be surprised if by his complexion he's ever been mistaken for being Hispanic, because the color definitely fits. Do you like apricots? No. Are banana chips delicious? Ew, that sounds gross. Do you like kinky sex? I wouldn't know, my dude. I've never really explored outside of pretty vanilla stuff. What is one thing you will never do again? Rely solely on another person for happiness. Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy? Twice as happy. That's not even a competition. What would your parents be surprised to learn about you? I very legitimately wonder if I would be disowned for how fucked up some of the shit I write is, ha ha. Mom would probably cry if she saw some of even the milder stuff and force the topic to come up in therapy. If you could have been a child prodigy what would you have wanted to be skilled at? Maybe painting? If earth could only have one condiment for the rest of time, what would you pick to keep around? Hmmm... I suppose ketchup. Do you think it’s important to stay up to date with the news? I think it is, but I don't. .-. What is the best present you could ever receive? An all-expenses-paid trip to South Africa to visit and tour with the Kalahari Meerkat Project to meet and photograph the meerkats. :''''''''''') Would you give up one of your fingers if it meant you’d have free WiFi wherever you go, for the rest of your life? Nah. That's what data is for, lol. If someone told you you could give one person a present and your budget was unlimited–what present would you get and for whom? A new car for Mom. Giant house in a subdivision or tiny house somewhere with a view? Oh, that is SO easy. Give me the view. Well wait, HOW tiny is the house? My answer would change if it was one of those truly mini houses that would make me feel claustrophobic as shit. What was your favorite Disney movie as a kid? The Lion King. Still is. Do you brush your teeth in the bathroom, or do you get bored & roam around? I roam around. Does your city/town have a little festival/carnival every year? Yes. I never really pay attention tho 'cuz I never go. Have you ever been to an apple orchard? No, but I would love to go. Were there any cartoons your parents didn’t let you watch as a kid? Except "adult" cartoons obviously, no. Could you handle motherhood? No fucking way. Being entirely serious, I think I'd either end up dead or horribly depressed, and the kid psychologically damaged to some extent from having an unstable mother. Like do not get me wrong, I'd try very hard, but I know I couldn't stay sane and happy as a mom. Have you ever touched a squirrel? No. What's better, candles or incense? Incense. What movie did you see the most in theaters? I don't watch movies in theaters twice. It's expensive to go even once. Who played the best Batman? Idk. I didn't watch all the movies. Who’s the best American Idol thus far? *shrug* What’s likely to happen next in your family - wedding, funeral, or birth? Uh, I suppose a wedding? None seem likely any time soon. Do you like hot, cold, or lukewarm showers? Hot. Have you ever taken part in a threesome? No, not my jam. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yep. Which movie’s musical score is truly memorable? Tarzan came to mind very quickly. What’s your favorite scene from the movie Titanic? Idk, I've only seen it once. Which TV show theme music do you remember most? That '70s Show. Have you ever bounced any checks? ... I don't even know what that means. :x Have you ever been snipe hunting? I will never in my life hunt in any way, shape, or form. Do you try to be politically correct? For the most part, but I do believe it's gone too far. Generally though, I try to conform to the "rules" to avoid offending someone. What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? Bottlenose dolphins, various types of whales, sea turtles... I don't think I could pick one. Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? Does it count if it's from a honeysuckle flower? Do you like to wear toe socks? No, they're mad uncomfortable imo. Have you ever worn bright red lipstick? Yes. Do you think raccoons are adorable, like I do? BABIES!!!!!!!!!!!

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''on the shore'' by otep

[call-me-rei]

Chapter 10

***I’m a bad updater and I’M SO SORRY! But anyway, here’s a thing. Love me pls***

“Tell me pretty lies; look me in the face.”

---

I sat on the ledge in front of the window in the attic. It was well past midnight and I was home alone. Mom was trying to get moved to the night shift at the hospital so they were transitioning her tonight. Rick had called at 8:30 saying he would be home late. That was five hours ago.

As for me, I was stressing out over auditions. I had yet to decide if I was going to sing the song I debuted to my friends. There were just too many bad memories associated with those lyrics; memories that I’d rather forget.

I looked down at my lap which had my hands in it. I ran a finger down the length of my left wrist. The motion tickled, but I wasn’t focused on that. I was picturing the red that I’d see too many times before. It was flowing down my wrist like a steady stream with no end in sight. It went from the base of my hand to my elbow. Slowly, smoothly.

I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts and looked out the window once more. There was a full moon out tonight, and it hung high overhead. I stared at it with a sense of wonder. I wondered what it would be like to live on the moon. Surely no problems would follow me out into the cosmos.

I brought myself out of my daydream and pushed myself off the ledge. It was too late for me to be thinking about not existing where I currently was. Plus it was getting cold. I made my way down the stairs and put the ladder back up quietly. Then I headed off to my room.

A noise from downstairs stopped me. I turned toward the source of the sound: downstairs.

“Hello?“ I called out. There was no answer.

Now I know what you’re thinking, and I promise you I’m not an idiot. I just thought that it was Mom. It was almost 2 in the morning and I thought she had come home for something during her break. That’s why I went downstairs.

I went down slowly. It was dark and in all honesty I was beginning to doubt that Mom was at the door. Still, I went down, and opened the door.

It wasn’t Mom. Instead, standing in the threshold, was Rick. Drunk off his ass Rick.

“Geez man, what the hell did you do?” I asked as I watched my stepfather wobble on his shaky legs. I grabbed him right before he hit the ground.

“Okay, let’s get you inside.” I lifted him back onto his feet and led him inside.

“This‘s a nice house kid,” he slurred. “You look too young for a nice house like this.”

“It’s your house,” I said as I led him to the couch.

“Right, I knew that.”

I shook my head. “Wait till Mom hears about this,” I mumbled.

“My mom’s not here,” he said.

“Yeah I know; I meant my-”

“Oh she’s gonna kill me!”

“Your mom’s not here,” I said slowly.

“Right,” he said calmly, “right.”

I sighed and went into the kitchen to get him some water and start on some coffee in case he needed it.

I leaned against the counter and ran a hand down my face. I couldn’t understand it. What would possess Rick to get shitfaced? He knew how much Mom hated it. Mom wasn’t unreasonable though; she knew that drinking was a stress reliever. She would sometimes have a glass of wine or two after work, but she never came home drunk out of her mind. She was responsible, and up until now I thought Rick was too.

A knock on the door took me out of my thoughts. I looked around, as if a more prepared, grown-up person would answer the door. Then I remembered my drunk-off-his-ass stepfather and I walked to the door.

“Uh, can I help you?” I asked the man standing in front of him. He had an annoyed look on his face.

“Yeah, I just drove some drunk dude here and he said he was going to pay me as soon as he got inside. Well you took him in ten minutes ago and I want my money.”

“Right,” I said with a sigh. “How much?” The man gave me the amount and I ran inside to get the cash from Rick’s wallet. It wasn’t like he was gonna remember this anyway.

“Thanks for bringing him home,” I said as I handed him the money. He simply nodded and gave me a “have a good night”.

I went back into the kitchen to get Rick’s hangover kit and brought it to him.

“Hey, wake up,” I said while hitting him on the leg. He groaned and swatted my hand away. “I don’t want to have to force you to drink this,” I said sternly. I pulled him up to a sitting position. I fed him the straw in the cup of water and stood there holding it until he drank the whole thing.

I watched him as he laid back down on the couch, his arm slung over the cushions and his face on the armrest. I debated taking him up to his room but he smelled of liquor and was already snoring. I signed and headed back to the kitchen to check on the coffee. Maybe Mom would have some when she got home. I left it in the pot and texted her, telling her that it was there if she wanted it when she got home.

I wrote for about two hours until I finally felt my mind slow down and drift off to sleep. Mom had come home some time while I was still up. By the sounds of it, she wasn’t happy. I heard her wake Rick up and yell at him; his drunken self was trying to keep up.

That night I fell asleep to the sound of my parents fighting playing in the background. I hated listening to it but hey, Mom chose to marry him.

***

I woke up at 6:30 in the morning to my mom yelling downstairs. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but her tone of voice told me that she was angry. Mom never got angry.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” I heard her ask as I approached the stairs.

“Mary I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Rick answered.

“You say that every time! And look, it still happens. God Rick, just get it together. What if Kellin saw you like that?”

“Hate to break it to you Mary, but I’m pretty sure Kellin is the reason why I’m in this house.”

“Yeah well I wish you weren’t.”

I cleared my throat as I walked down the last couple stairs and into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi Kellin. You want some breakfast?” Mom asked.

“Actually Lynn and I have some things to do before school so I’ll just grab something there,” I said without making eye contact with either of them.

“You sure, kid?” Rick asked.

“Yeah.” I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter when I felt their eyes on me. “I’m gonna get ready for school.” I felt their eyes follow me as I walked toward the stairs, but neither of them said anything. I went up and to the bathroom to get out of that awkward moment.

I took as much time upstairs as I could. I washed the events of last night out of my hair and off my skin; I cleansed my body of the fight I had just heard. I changed into new clothes that didn’t reek of disappointment, regret, and worry. By the time I was done I felt like a new man, and I wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as I could before reality hit me with all that filth once again.

“Kellin?”

I stopped in my tracks at the foot of the stairs. Looks like reality wanted to mess me up earlier than expected.

“We need to talk tonight.” I nodded towards Mom.

“Don’t you have work though?” I asked her.

“No, I pulled my all-nighter last night so I have tonight off. It’ll give us this chance to clear some things up.”

I nodded again. “Sure, Mom.”

She smiled. “Okay, now go to school. You don’t want to keep Lynn waiting.”

I smiled shyly and went to kiss her on the cheek. Then I grabbed my keys and went to school.

***

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really bad at that?” I looked up from the piano to see Vic standing in the doorway. I hadn’t even noticed that the door opened. “Seriously dude, take lessons or something.”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” I mumbled. I was sitting in a practice room just hitting keys with my finger. I had no idea how to play the thing, hence the reason why I was just hitting random keys.

“What bit you in the ass this morning?” I rolled my eyes.

“None of your damn business,” I snapped.

He put his hands up. “Woah, chill man. I was just messing with you.” I rolled my eyes again. “Seriously, tell me what’s up.”

“And why would I want to do that? Why, so you can make fun of me? So you can torment me more than you already do? So I can feel worse about my life than I already do? Well thanks but no thanks.”

I don’t know why I lashed out, but it felt right. All the shit I had witnessed came out towards Vic, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to tell him off.

He stood there looking at me, shocked at first, then his face reverted back to its blank state. I sat there staring back at him. I had finally realized what I’d said and I could feel my cheeks turning pink. Oh, if only I could disappear.

“Look, I know you and I didn’t exactly start off in the best way but we have to work together so why not be civil.”

I almost scoffed. Almost. Here he was, Vic Fuentes, the man himself, telling me that I needed to be civil with him. The guy who on my first day told me to watch my back. The guy everyone in school is afraid of for some weird reason. The guy I had been told on countless occasions to stay away from. That guy.

“Why don’t you try being civil with, I don’t know, anyone.”

“Look, I don’t know what shit in your corn flakes this morning but you need to calm the fuck down.”

“Or what?!” I challenged. “What, you’ll beat me up? You’ll spread rumors about me? I’ve been through much worse than that petty shit.”

“Oh I’ll show you worse.” I hadn’t noticed before but we were standing face to face. Our noses were almost touching; I could feel his warm breath on my skin. He was breathing somewhat heavy. His eyes were angry.

I never noticed his eyes before either.

They were a beautiful shade of chocolate brown; like two pools of Hershey’s. I could stare at them all d-.

Wait, am I fantasizing about Vic?

I cleared the thought from my mind and grabbed my bag. I had to get out of there.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I ignored him as I pushed past him and walked out of the room.

I ran down the halls to the nearest bathroom. I needed to be alone; I needed to leave. Unfortunately I never made it to the bathroom. My emotions got the best of me that I ended up sitting on a bench in the atrium.

I sat there as the events of the last twelve hours replayed in my head. Watching my stepdad come home drunk, hearing the fight and possible divorce of my parents, reliving events of my past for a stupid song, and now a moment of weakness between me and Vic’s eyes. My life was falling apart right in front of me and I couldn’t save it. Everything was out of my control and it scared me.

I had no plan for it. I always assumed my parents would make it but now Mom wanted to talk to me about the future of our family no less. I always thought I’d leave the past behind me but then that song makes a reappearance and I’m forced to relive the moments no matter how many new lyrics I write.

I never thought my first crush on a boy would be on my bully, and yet there I was, hating myself for liking the big brown eyes of the guy who was about to make my life a living hell.

The way I saw it I had two options. I could either go back and try to take the path of least resistance, which would mean admitting defeat and possibly opening up to Vic about my personal life because he wouldn’t let it go.

Or I could act like I wasn’t fazed and see how reality wanted to fuck with me. Whatever ways it wanted to do so, I would suffer in silence.

I went with choice number two.

#Blackbear - idfc #Vic Fuentes #Kellin Quinn #Pierce The Veil fanfiction #Pierce The Veil fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Playlist Love #Kellic #Kellic fanfiction #Kellic fanfic

[katdvs]

Lucas Friar moved back to Texas at 17, now he’s running for Mayor of Rosewood Springs so best friend Zay and little sister Gigi decide he needs a little help from a political consultant.

Riley Matthews found her calling, she found a fiancé, but she never expected to find herself here, of all places.

Cross-posted to FF.net | Soundtrack

-the moon that moves your tides- | -basics of you and me- | -rather hurt than feel nothing at all- | -taste of love oh bittersweet- | -time to face my weakness- | -you do what you do- | -a place you belong- | -the one I want for life- | -find a reason-

Author Note: I meant to get this done yesterday, but stuff happened and I ended up taking my laptop apart to fix it, but hey it seems to be working now so yay! Tonight (Saturday) is your last chance to enter the fanfic giveaway on tumblr, so if you do that would be awesome. You guys rock, xoxo.

-show me the way-

“Yee-haw” Lucas hooted when he entered the barn where Zay had just ended a phone call.

Zay stared at his best friend, “Not the reaction I was expecting. Actually, I don’t know what to expect.”

Lucas grabbed Zay by the shoulders, “Riley is going to stay until at least after the election.”

“At least?” Zay noted the way his green eyes seemed brighter than they had in a very long time. “After the election if you win or lose she’s gone, she goes back to New York where she’ll plan her wedding to Dave after giving him hell for getting her that cheap as shit ring.”

“No” Lucas pointed to Zay as he backed away practically skipping, the smile on his face growing, “No, she is not going to marry Corn Chip Dave. He doesn’t deserve her, no she’s not pulled to him.”

Zay rubbed his eyes with his fingers before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Okay, I’m missing something so spill.”

“If Riley and I aren’t together by the end of this, then we don’t belong together, maybe I’m meant to be a piece of shit guy just getting blowjobs from random women and the occasional one night stand.” Lucas looked around the bar, “But no; I am meant to be with Riley Matthews, she was brought back into my life for a fucking reason Zay.”

“Yeah to get you elected mayor.” Zay shook his head, “I called Smackle to arrange this.”

“Of course, you did, but still, this is all happening for a reason Zay.” Lucas ran his hand through his hair, “After all this time seeing her again, it’ still there Zay, it’s even more intense now, God last night I could’ve kissed her.”

“She’s engaged.”

“For now,” Lucas shrugged, “you didn’t feel the way she claimed me in front of Dixie, that’s what she did Zay. That wasn’t some political move Zay, she was telling Dixie that I’m hers.”

“Follow her lead” Zay warned, “Don’t make a move on her first, don’t scare her away. She is engaged and its Riley, even if she was claiming you in front of Dixie. Don’t break her heart again.”

“I would never break Riley’s heart.” Lucas reminded his best friend, of course he meant it, not realizing that he had in the past.

“Seriously Lucas, I will beat the living life out of you if you break her heart, if you do anything that would hurt her. This isn’t a game, this is her heart and yours.” Zay warned him, “This isn’t about fulfilling some sex fantasy you have. If it’s possible that you and Riley have a future this is about the two of you loving each other, building a life together, possibly having children together. You need to find out if that’s even something the both of you want. But hey you’ve got until November.”

Lucas nodded knowing that Zay was right, he couldn’t push it, that this was so much more than anything he was used to now. Things with Riley always had been, they were more, in ways he wasn’t sure he could ever describe.

Maya had just gotten off the phone with Zay and was sitting down on her couch when her phone sang with Riley’s ring gone, “Hey Honey, what’s up.”

“I did something really stupid Maya, like really stupid. I can’t even believe I did it.”

Maya looked around even though she knew Charlie wasn’t home she still felt the need to check, “Did you have sex with Lucas?”

“No” Riley breathed, “I um, I kind of went and staked my claim on him.”

“What did you do?” Maya stood up pacing around, knowing her husband was due home any minute and he might just have Dave with him.

“We were at church, it was after the service. Lucas was mingling and talking to Dixie Carmichael, one of those girls in those pictures all those years ago, oh you should’ve seen the way she looked at Lucas. She looked as if given the chance she would strip him naked, dip him in chocolate and lick every inch of him.”

“And you of course have never thought about doing that.” Maya smirked to herself as she moved to the kitchen raking out a few items from the fridge to make a sandwich.

“Maya,” Riley ignored the comment, “I moved across the social hall, slid right up to Lucas, put my arm around him and said I was his girlfriend and sticking around. Then I kissed him.”

“It was good, wasn’t it?” She couldn’t believe after all these years these two were still such fools.

“Yes, and it was brief, part of me just wants to walk up to him and kiss him again, let whatever happens, happen.”

Maya shook her head, “Have you told Dave what you’re up to?”

“Not exactly, there’s more Maya.”

“What else could there be?”

“Well I kind of have to stick around and be his girlfriend publicly since you know it wouldn’t look good if he makes his run for mayor and I run back off to New York.”

Maya quickly pumped her fist in the air in joy, “So you have to stay until after the election huh, okay I’ll um go by your place later today get you some more Texas friendly clothes, anything else you want me to get for you?”

Riley sighed, “I don’t know, anything you see in my room you think I might need over the next few months. For sure though, please send me some of my cotton tank tops, it’s getting hotter here each day.”

“I will, so crazy question, what are you going to tell Dave?”

“I don’t know, just that this is a complicated small town situation, that I need to be here, be hands on, and if I can get away for a weekend or a couple of days I’ll come back to New York, but right now I need to be in Texas.”

Maya was smirking as she finished making a sandwich, “Okay, sounds like a plan, just text me the address to send your stuff to and I’ll have it sent as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you, I should go see if Gigi needs help with lunch and then help Lucas with his wardrobe.”

“Riley, you’re playing with fire, don’t get burned.”

“I know what I’m doing.” Riley assured her friend, “Thank you and bye.”

“Bye” Maya watched as the call ended on her screen, “Yeah you’ll be crying out yee-haw before you know it.”

The door opened, Charlie came in with their two children following behind, but quickly running to their own room, “Maya guess who is officially going to be Dave’s best man when he and Riley get married in November.”

“They haven’t set a date yet.” Maya reminded her husband, “And she’s currently busy working on a new campaign.”

“Dave set a date, he talked to a wedding planner.” Charlie tried to grab the sandwich and Maya swatted his hand.

“He’s counting his chickens before they hatch, Riley is going to want to plan her own wedding.”

“He’s doing this to help her.” Charlie grabbed an apple from the counter, “He knows how busy she is, and that sometimes she can’t get back to New York to make the plans she needs to.”

“Great he can get her a wedding band she’s allergic to as well.” Maya muttered.

Charlie either didn’t hear her or decided to ignore it for whatever reason, “Oh, you should see his new boat Maya, it’s more like a mini yacht. It’s sick, it’s beautiful, and it has bedrooms, so one weekend we can leave the kids with my Mom and go sailing with Dave and Riley for an overnight.”

Maya stopped what she was doing, “He bought a new boat?” huh probably where the money he was going to spend on a ring went, “What did he name it?”

Charlie chuckled, “Tostitos, he thinks its good luck to name it after his favorite chips.”

“I have to run an errand, actually it’s for Riley.” She grabbed half the sandwich, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“What does Riley need you to do?” Charlie picked up the half she left behind.

Maya grabbed her purse and was already at the door when she looked back to her husband, “She wanted me to send her a few things since she doesn’t know when she’ll be back in the city.”

“Where the hell is she?” He took a bite of the sandwich as he watched his wife at the door.

“Riley is exactly where she needs to be.” She left the apartment, wondering more and more why her best friend had ever accepted Dave’s proposal in the first place, and what she could do to help her friend make the right decision about her future.

If what Zay had told her was true, right now it was possible that the only thing really holding Riley and Lucas back, was Dave being her fiancé.

An idea hit, Maya knew she would probably get yelled at for what she was about to do, but Riley needed a push, and maybe if she was lucky it would give Lucas the push as well.

“Gigi is a great cook.” Riley told Lucas as they stood outside his bedroom, the air thick with nervous energy, as if she would cross the threshold and all semblance of self-control would be gone.

Lucas nodded, “She is, she’s actually been pretty helpful to have around.” He opened the door, “So where should we start?”

“Um, well what’s an average day like for you, like what do you wear?” She stayed near the door afraid to really enter his room.

“Jeans, a t-shirt and a plaid button up over it. I usually do some work here at the ranch with our animals, and then I go check my schedule, make house calls in the morning before going to the office to see the smaller animals.” He looked to her with a soft smile, “Riley, you can come in here.”

“And you wore almost a full suit for church.” She took a couple of steps in, his room, his sanctuary, his bed.

“Well we’re not fancy like in the city.” He watched her, “I have suits of course, mostly for conferences, weddings, the bachelor auction.”

“If they have a good fit, you should be fine. Um ties, are they in this drawer?” Riley started to pull his sock drawer open.

“No” Lucas dashed across the room, “That’s um socks.”

“Oh sorry” she tried to read him, but she was sure she saw a panic wash over him, that couldn’t be possible.

“Ties are in the closet, sorry if I scared you.”

Riley reached up, her thumb rubbing over his chin, “You have never scared me in that way.”

“In what way then have I scared you?”

She’d opened the door to this, she had to be honest with him, “The intensity of my feelings for you when we were younger, it terrified me.”

“Do you love Dave with that same kind of intensity?” She couldn’t, could she?

Riley was sure for a moment he was pleading, begging to know something, “Dave is different, Dave is, well Dave.”

“So, you don’t feel an intensity with Dave, that you feel with me?”

“You were my first Lucas, that kind of intensity doesn’t exist with anyone else.” She moved away feeling herself getting drawn into him as she went through the door into his bathroom. She paused for a moment when she saw the giant tub in the corner with a bay window that looked out at the property, the walk-in shower right next to the closet which she forced herself to walk into, and ignore the fantasies that were already filling her mind.

Lucas watched as she took in his bathroom, he knew it was a bit much for just him, but he would never tell a living soul this, when he had it redone a few years before he’d thought about what she might like. He hadn’t thought he’d never see her again, and yet now she was in his closet studying his ties.

“These should be your go to ties for now.”

“Great, wonderful.” He watched her, “So about your clothes, what have you got that’s appropriate for hanging out on a ranch in Texas?”

“I guess it depends on what kind of work you’re going to put me to.” She teased, feeling her cheeks flush.

“Well City Girl, I think if you really want to help out we could find something for you here and there. I mean you’re going to have to be helping me with the campaign right, girlfriend?” He’d moved closer to her, wishing her could touch her—really touch her.

“True, but I can still cook, take some of the burden off of Gigi for a while, maybe do some laundry.” She caught herself getting lost in his eyes, sure she was seeing smoldering fire of desire before she blinked, knowing how easy it would be to reach up, unbutton his shirt, expose his chest, “You know, whatever I can do to help out.”

Lucas could think of a million things she could do to help, and none of them had to do with cooking, laundry, and everything with being naked in his bed, calling out his name. “You don’t just have those short skirts, do you?”

“Maya is sending me some more stuff, I never had a chance to pack for Texas, I was packed for Hollywood.” She licked her lips, feeling as if the closet was growing ten degrees. “What’s wrong with my skirts?”

“Nothing” His voice was thick, needy as his fingers ran through her hair, tangling with her soft curls as his lips crashed down on hers and her body clung to him, feeling him lift her up, carrying her to the bed.

“Riley, Riley?” Lucas snapped her fingers “You okay?”

“Yeah I um, spaced out, it’s really hot in this closet.” She pushed past him sure she audibly gasped at how hard his chest, “Um the stuff Maya is sending me actually should be here tomorrow afternoon if she uses the service I asked her to.”

“That will be good, if she um doesn’t send you what you need Austin really isn’t that far for some real shopping, I doubt you’d want to hit up the Wal-Mart.”

“The Wal-Mart would be fine Lucas” She smiled, “I don’t need labels, just something that fits, that I’m comfortable wearing. The only thing I’m really picky about is jewelry and only because of my allergy.”

Lucas nodded, “Good to know Ri, good to know.”

“That’s my phone.” She could hear the ringtone from down the hall, “We can finish or whatever later.”

“Of course,” Lucas watched her leave, he hung on the door, part of him wanting to bash his head between it and the frame.

It was great that she was staying, but what exactly was he going to do now? What could he do to show her that he was the man for her, that she was the woman for him?

Dates! He’d have to take her out to dinner one in a while, or to the movies, all sorts of things they used to do when they were really dating. People wouldn’t believe they were a couple if they didn’t see them together. Hell, maybe he would even take her to a scary movie so she would grab his hand, maybe that action, that touch would unlock something, anything, everything.

He pulled his phone out from his back pocket looking up movie times at the theater, he saw one he knew she would enjoy, well unless she was over her crush on Chris Evans. He went down the hall knocking gently on the door.

“Hey, what’s up?” She was just putting the phone down.

“I um realized this whole people thinking you’re my girlfriend thing probably works best if people see us on dates, right?”

“I guess, I mean we really can’t stay here all the time, people would think we were just having sex all the time or something.” Had she just said that? She wished she could understand what was coming out of her mouth around him.

Lucas had to remind himself to breathe, “Um yeah, so the new Chris Evans is playing at the Rialto tonight, and I thought we could go see it, and really be seen together.”

“Not fair Lucas, you know I can’t say no to a Chris Evans movie.” She smiled, amazed he remembered that, he seemed to remember almost everything, except their night together. But why?

“Great, it starts at seven-twenty, so we should leave here at six-thirty.”

“That’s great, casual attire, jeans and t-shirts kind of thing.”

“Yeah, oh a hoodie, the theatre tends to blast the AC, so I remember you get cold easily.”

“That would be something I don’t have with me.” She shrugged.

Lucas smiled, “I’ve got an extra one, don’t worry. We’ll go after dinner, it’s just you and me again tonight, Zay and Gigi are working again.”

“Okay, I’m going to get some stuff done, we can make dinner in a little bit.”

“Great, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He backed away, returning to his room and going into his closet.

It wasn’t full, barely half way filled. Which made what he was looking for easy to find. Over the years, he’d never been able to get rid of it. He’d worn it the first few weeks he was back in Texas until his mother washed it, with it she washed away the last hint of Riley’s scent, sweet and fruity. It had spent a lot of time deep in his closet, it probably didn’t even fit him now.

Abigail Adams Baseball adorned the front of the hoodie in block letters. He remembered her wearing it when she would get cold on a summer night as they sat on her roof top looking for a hint of stars. She probably didn’t remember it, but he did. He remembered so much that she’d probably forgotten, let first to the back of her mind as new boyfriends took over.

He gripped the hoodie in his hands, maybe she would start to remember, start to fall in love with him again.

He grabbed the one he usually wore, his old Texas A&M one that had seen better days, and he should probably replace it.

As he looked at the two of them, he wondered if she could ever love him again. If she could ever open herself up to him. No matter what happened Lucas Friar wasn’t going down without a fight for Riley’s heart, and he was going to prove to her that he was worth it, that he would always be worth it.

#Thunder Chasing The Wind #Riley Matthews #Lucas Friar #Rucas #Rucas Fanfic #Girl Meets World #GMW Fanfic #Zay Babineaux #Maya Hart #Charlie Gardner

[annachronismmm]

2016:

A year of transition, of change. When I started writing this, I wanted it to be a melding of world events and my life, but it turned out to mostly be my life. Whoops. Anway, here’s my take on the craziness of last year: 

2016. A sentence that begins with quotation marks savoring of both endings and beginnings. The last year of chlorine, of perpetual exhaustion. A year of anxiety and apprehensions, applications and lessened application in the pool. A year of decimals--disappointing decimals, that is, slightly more than there were last year. Of yellow ribbons instead of white. Of love for the girls on your team--and those annoying boys, too. Of that mattering much more than the times.

A year of breakfast, of starting something silly with your friends because it’s second-semester senior year and what the heck. A year of dancing. Of learning to let go of leading and letting the up-and-comers take charge.

Again, a year of uncertainty. Of loading admissions portals with your eyes squeezed shut, terrified to see the results. Of celebrating good news and bemoaning the bad. Of finding new friends in strange places--in potatoes, of all things. Of knowing exactly what you want and spending spring break working to make it happen.

But then: a year of the guidance counselor materializing above you as you sit in the hallway with Maddie, Jeffrey, and Frankie. Of the valedictorian standing behind her. Of an invisible choke hold around your neck as you realize what’s happening and you know you should be exhilarated but you just aren’t. Of lilies, clutched in your arms, that break your heart but not because they’re beautiful. Of going home and crying in the bathtub because you feel like a piece of shit for wanting to throw away something that so many people you know would be incredibly grateful to have. Of revisiting a school you’d entirely written off so long ago, of realizing yes, you could love this place, too.

Still, though, a year of picking the sensible option, because that’s what you always do--your heart is forever muzzled, your mind with its hands firmly grasped on the leash.

A year of realizing that you can’t make a hero out of a person, because they’re bound to let you down, bound to be just as flawed as everyone else. Of proving him wrong, of adrenaline-rushed match play because that spot is ours, goddammit, we’re boss ass bitches who are fucking CLOSERS and we’ll be damned if politics are going to get in the way of that. Of deuce, of sheepish laughter. Of sunburns. Of dinner on the river bank. Of calls from the hotel front desk and pretending like we don’t know what’s going on, that people haven’t been banging on our door for the past hour even though we’re just inside hanging out.  

A year of a swanky dinner and ball gowns. Of speeding along in a jolting red sports car with a king, a prince, and your best friend with you. Of driving to the roller rink, contentedness emanating throughout you, with “Scar Tissue” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers illuminating the dark roads packed in by corn.

A year of finally not caring about a class. Of frauleins, frown lines, of saying plEASE in the most nasally voice you can summon. A year of Le Petit Prince, of right wingin’, bitter clingin’ proud clingers. A year of “Copperhead Road,” of Microsoft Paint.

And, finally, a year of endings, of goodbyes. Of lasts. Of it all feeling surreal for the next three weeks. Of knowing the next time you walk through those doors, you won’t have your backpack and it will all feel different, changed, permanently.

A year of ducking out early, of school being out of session for UDHS but still in session at FSU. Of, a week earlier, overconfidence at sectionals and paying dearly for it. Of petty parents and unrelenting shame as you trudge off the court. Of, today, craving redemption with every atom in your body and attempting to contain the nerves that come with that. Of an ace on match point. Of 6-3, 6-3. Of a win at regionals. Of the bus breaking down in the parking lot, but that being surprisingly okay because oh my god, it was the last day of school with these people forever and we just won regionals, too. Of sprawling out on the sun-drenched, dusty red courts with our water jugs in hand, again watching the up-and-comers rally half-lazily, half-seriously because they know their time will come, too. Of Ivanhoe’s with your best friends, sitting at a booth awkwardly because it all just ended and no one knows where to tiptoe first in this vast, exciting unknown.

A year of semi-state. Of being ridiculously, completely the underdogs. Of entertaining hope but entering the court with the suspicion that today, you’re playing for personal honor instead of team victory. Of personal victory and team defeat--again, another ending, another fig falling off the tree, spoiled.

A year of mortarboards and gowns. Of walking out of the auditorium at the front of the line, past all those parents who have shown you kindness over the years. Of emerging outside into the setting sun, laughing and hugging. Of pictures. Of Dairy Queen with your grandparents. Of post-graduation s’mores with friends, the reality of it all still not reality. Of never-ending parties and crockpots of pulled pork.

A year of t-shirts--lots and lots of t-shirts. Of ink and squeegees and screens. Of conveyor belts and boxes.

A year, still, of tennis. Of deuce, endlessly. Of small redemptions, revenge served. Of penguins. Of letting your partner’s ego run rampant because it’s funny and honestly kind of entertaining--then, of seeing him defer to the alpha tennis male. Then, beating said alpha tennis male and his partner. Of being a dark horse and #norespect.

A year of new cities. Of streets and avenues, crowds of people who don’t give a shit about you and honestly, that’s wonderful. Of mind-blowing cookies and the musical you’ve been dying to see. Of renowned paintings and sculptures, of a lush green square plopped in between the skyscrapers. Of wandering the High Line on Bastille Day with an old friend. Of returning home with a hunger for more.

A year of summer bonfires with friends old and friends really quite recent. Of kayaking down the river, letting the current pull you, of laughing when the others get stuck on a sandbank. Of county road car adventures. Of blue raspberry creamy slushes and that disgusting candy cotton Mountain Dew concoction you refused to try.

A year of an excruciatingly long July because you can’t wait to JUST GET THE HECK OUT OF HERE ALREADY. Of scouring Pinterest for dorm decorating ideas. Of packing, and, finally, more goodbyes. Of not knowing how to say goodbye to the best friend you’ve had since fourth grade. Of not crying until you’re on the interstate and not really knowing why, because this is what you’ve been looking forward to for years. Of the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the way into campus. Of you, your roommate, and your mom carrying your stuff into the dorm.  Of initial awkwardness--with everyone. Of having to walk away before your mom even gets in the car to drive away because she’s your best friend and you know you’re about to lose it.

A year of sweltering heat that first week, yet trekking all over the campus you don’t yet know in spite of it. Of adventures with people who will turn up again later. Of wandering through the art museum with people you’re pretty sure are going to be your friends.

A year of finding your people--the ones who love books and learning and early mornings just as much as you do. Of early Saturday morning runs through campus, when it’s empty and covered in a layer of dew. Of sitting in your friend’s dorm room in your pajamas as half the floor troops down the hallway for a night out. Of being perfectly, incandescently happy right where you are. Of sitting in the quad on a blanket with your friends, gossiping about boys. Of weekend afternoons spent at the library.

A year of enlightenment, of lots and lots of reading. Of timid knocks on professors’ doors for office hours. Of falling in love with the subjects you didn’t expect. Of call-out meetings. Of weekly deadlines and parliamentary procedure.

A year of late nights studying, but not always. Of staying up until 6 with a boy who, in the end, can’t ever say what he feels. Of kissing him, of disappointment in that. Of silence. Of realizing that you really didn’t care that much about him, either.

A year of nonsensical videos, of 9 P.M. runs to the cafeteria with your friends for donuts and hot chocolate. A year of exploring a new town. Of downtown festivals and restaurants and farmer’s markets.

A year of color runs. Of swim club. Of coming to the realization that working out is still a necessity, even when you’re walking five miles a day.

A year of SNL, of David S. Pumpkins, of Kate McKinnon’s Hillary Clinton. A year of disappointment and realization on a national scale. Of waking up on November 10th to the results you never expected. Of numbness, of shock. Of rude relatives on Facebook. Of sorrow.

A year of more cities--cities of the windy variety, that is. Of long hours in committee, of new friends. Of finally being home. Of it feeling like it’s been a day since you last saw some of your high school friends and running out of things to talk about once you’ve gossiped about your former classmates with the others. Of starting to appreciate your hometown, of loving it for its flaws, road entirely made of fast food chains and potholes and all.

A year of deciding to trust the boy who, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been intrigued by for a good chunk of the semester. Of illusory hope. Of realizing that he’s either completely full of shit or great at telling one helluva fish story. (Probably both.) Of naively, stupidly looking for answers when you’ve been reminded that real-life isn’t like a book--no denouement, no closure, no loose ends wrapped up in a nice little bow. Of making peace with this.

A year of your first collegiate finals week, a week slower than any other the whole semester. Of packing, again. Of going home, however temporary it may be. Of living halfway out of your suitcase and your old dresser. Of all the adults in your life and the same questions, over and over.

A year of long road trips. Of the puppy bothering you the entire time. Of cousins and and aunts and uncles and grandparents. Of deciding that your grandmother has finally, really, truly lost it. Of tubing at night, looking not down the hill but up, feeling the ice dust through the air as you slide down the chute at a breakneck pace. Of unconventional New Year’s Eve shenanigans, because when have you and Krissy ever been conventional? Of gingerbread and hot glue guns and fireworks.

And, finally, the ending punctuation; a year of deciding, of choosing, to leave the things and people that belong in 2016 in the past, your eyes focused only straight ahead, on January 1st.

#shoutout to anyone who read this mess!! #i wanted to post this somewhere...but facebook was def not an option lol #so tumblr it was #personal #writing #mine #2016 #sorry if this is cringey eek i hope it's not

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Alex Laughlin: i always wondered why she played with my balls when she gave me a blow job! She hated -- hates doing it!! Id tell her "give me a blow job babe" and she would smile and say "okay" i must admit she did look real greedy saying it tho, like this Grinch gleam in her eye. In 2008 i complained she was messing with my balls too much and i wasn't Saint Luches. She stopped. Looked me dead in the eyes and said "i play with them or you dont get none" I been begging her for 3 days so i wasn't gonna complain. But i never knew all this time she hated it. Tree how many blow jobs she give me?

Great Tree of Knowledge: 348

Alex: and you don't even like it. You really must love me

Me: and I do

Mark: and me??

Great Tree of Knowledge: Jesse Tony James: 894. Saint Luches: 746 Matt Hagan: 4 Mark: 1472

Alex: man somebody owes me something.

Me: but you got other blow jobs and you liked them better

Alex: omg shut up.

Saint Luches: yeah from me

Me: and you're not even into oral that much. You like wrapping your arms around me and feeling and having that full experience. You like oral, yes. You like the attention that I give just to you to perform sexually on only you so you feel all the love and adoration that i can give only you. Not for had about me, too. Its me unselfishingly loving only you. But you like the whole thing. You don't like just watching me bob my head up and down. You said you can go to the lake and throw in a line off a fishing pole and jack off and watch the red and white bobber go up and down in the lake water and to you it's the thing as watching my head go up and down in your lap. Yu want the whole thing. Kit and caboodle. Ass grabbing. Hair pulling. Tit sucking.

Mark: okay alright

Alex: you really love me, you know so much about me.

Me: i love fucking you. The bruises make me wet the next day.. Like omg he bit my tit so hard im all bruised all the way across it and i look beat and i need 4 tons of concealer and I love it. It didn't even hurt. I didnt even feel it in a painful way that way. And you didn't even notice, you just kept fucking and loving me as violently as you could. But without violence. A great amount of passion and possession that you couldn't even control yourself. All yoh know you had to do was love me as best and as most as you could every second until our bodies were exhausted. And I love it more than anything. You ever fuck me differently, I'm gonna punch you in the face.

Saint Luches: I love her!

Alex: whips and chains excite her!!!

Saint Luches: so what you said is you don't care he bites the shit out of you as long as it doesn't hurt?

Me: see... It does... It feels the same as if he bit me to kill me. But the Thing is the brain releases so many endorphins and all the good feelings are so extreme that the pain is dulled. So when he bites it hurts but it feels so good because it's only for an instant. Its like eating chocolate candy and salty pop corn. Its so fucking good. Its just the orgasm. It changes the way the body feels and expresses itself. Procreation, survival of our humans is so important that say you get stung by a bee, the central nervous system says you need to pay attention you got a Problem. But while good sex is going on the body says oh I'll give you a bruise and remind you to check for other damage like may be you have a bee nest under the window you need to be aware of. And while shes not even ovulating you need to keep having sex for the day she does ovulate, she can get pregnant. Because sex is more important than anything else -! While you are having good sex -- because if you can have good sex then there's a compatibility between two people so good and amazing that they'll be able to raise kids together with attention and passion and goodness. So yeah my sex with Alex is that way.. It doesn't matter he's kinky and violent he is because hes a gentle person. It just possession and obsession that a soul mate has for another soulmate. Makes good parents says the body. So it's not like gonna be true -- its the body's way to keep producing children. It doesn't even care who you are one would expect -! But it does. Like my ex husband MT. he couldn't even get it up because he knew what a bastard he was. A lot of rapists can't get it up. So it really does care. Especially when someone is praying to God.

Alex: that's exciting. I got a new email about foreskin. He said he went to go pee. Hadnt read, was half asleep, just got outta bed. Didn't look or turn on the light. And the skin was pinched closed all ready to unwrap his present. And the force and pressure from the pee busted through but he was peeling all over himself, all down his hand and all over the toilet seat. So he Turned on the light to look and he screamed "oh my God!! What happened to me!! That bitch owes me a Dick and a Maid!!! I'm not joking wjat the Hell is this thing on my Dick?! What did she do to me?? Was it aliens?!?!" He said he was so scared!! So he pulled up your post with the images of the foreskin. So he took off his bottoms and sat on the toilet tried to read but he still had to pee so he didn't know what the Hell to do! So he began to cry. He got in the shower and began to masturbate and then he realized why he got foreskin and he's no longer angry at you.

Me: so why did he cry?

Alex: he realized some one you love had a problem and its the only way to fix it is replace the foreskin. And he hated you for it. Because he didn't have a problem. But some weird part of him, he says, began to grow 3x it's size. His penis, mind you. No but really he realized he never had a choice. Never as a man nor boy experienced foreskin. And he said it was a gift from Heaven. Once he was in the shower he for sure knew it wasn't aliens. Because it felt too dam good. So he wanted to thank thou and hopes his mom will mom will mop in the morning.

Me: he's welcome. I hope she does, too.

Alex: yeah she don't work, he pays for every thing. He said he wants his charity to be with underprivileged youth in poverty neighborhoods in California, his home state. He wants Snoop Dogg to give him advice as to where to put race tracks and how to transport because Snoop is the only one that he knows that does anything like that and he wants to take Snoops kids as a training for him.

Me: he's gonna make me cry. Snoop says he can't wait. I can hear him. He wants to open like a free gocart place...

Like 3 people: quit! You have like no money! Stop!

Me: im like one every 5 square miles with Abu on the corners so the kids could almost walk... Y'all know. Sometimes I probably should stop. Oh you know what's fun? Shopping carts. Ohhhhhh!!÷! You know schools here have no woodshop until high school. They could build box cars at the school!! Then race!!

Mark: well that's a great idea.

Me: i mean there's 365 days a year.

Alex: that's why I love you

How you love it now, Chandler?

[thefarlefchronicles]

Farlef Chronicles Episode 4 - The Farlefhymenning

This chapter is dedicated to Spotify and its creation of the exclusive Farlef Chronicles Playlist.

https://open.spotify.com/user/227f24h5jhnr6y6v6zhnfudsy/playlist/22y0Yqx1Ruj22k9TdJItbF

Previously on The Farlef Chronicles, HOLY FUCK WHAT THE FUCK, FUCK ME SIDEWAYS HOLY SHIT FUCK BALLS FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK EVERYONE'S DEAD FUCK ME. FIRE.

Current - December 25, 2016 2:21 A.M. at Farlef and John's Apartment in Spokane         

      After riding all night along US-395 N southbound they finally made it to Spokane, the upper echelon of Deer Park,Washington. As Farlef, his wheelchair bound dad, his brother John and his brother's girlfriend Sarah rode in silence wondering what they just witnessed and why it happened, they were all waiting for Farlef's Dad to finally get out of his own personal flashback after he declared it all started in 1941. In his blank daze all they could do was now stare at their Christopher Reeve acting father and wonder what images danced in his head. It couldn't of been of sugar plums dancing in his head cause he called them the fruit of the faggot and banished him from his home every Christmas. No what was going on through Farlef's Dad's head was much more barbaric and erotic.

  As John was driving towards his apartment in his Bitchin Brubaker Box he decided to address everyone in the car.

  "Farlef, this seems like the type of shit you and dad deal with, I never in the past wanted to know what you two did, I figured I let Bigones be bygones

 but now that Sarah is involved I am too. Whatever you two need, you can count on me."  

     "John I really don't give a shit, don't involve me in this" Sarah declared as she wondered what was on tv to watch.

     Farlef was shocked that his brother was willing to join them in whatever came next. He had heard tales of John's time down in the Congo as a member of the Peace Corps and how it turned bad. No one heard from his group for 4 months then one day on a small raft made of human bodies, not corpses, actual living bodies sewed together to make a raft he reappeared. He said nothing of the experience and no one asked any questions.

    "Glad to count on you bro, I have no idea what is about to happen but if they willing to burn down our town, try to kill us and somehow involve Justine in all this it seems like a bigger conspiracy then either of us could of imagined."     

John pulled his Bitchin Brubaker Box into the parking lot that was outside his apartment.

       "When Dad wakes up from his stupor, our lives will probably change. Not for the better, its never for the better when he goes on his rants but either way we are in this together. Now get Dad off the roof and I will see you inside" John said as he ran inside to avoid the rain.

     As Farlef was dragging his father up the stairs the back of his wheelchair popped open revealing a  secret compartment in his wheelchair. The back had a false backing and inside was many moose tranquilizers, moose pheromones, a selfie with a bear and a scroll that was thousands of years old written in menstrual deer blood on human skin named  'Ponere cervis auritosque Mailman et nuntiavit autem custos arrhabonem'. As he tried to say the words a loud his father woke from his stupor 

     "THE STAG, THE MAILMAN AND THE KEEPER OF THE PAWN" Farlef's died cried out startling Farlef.

    "Dad are you ok, you been passed out for over 3 hours since we fled Deer Park" Farlef exclaimed.

      “What are you going on about, got too much gay in your ears, this entire time I was explaining the deep rooted history of the war with the moose, how it happened, why it happened, fuck don't you two cock mongrels listen to anything. Always on your fancy pocket porn doohickeys and jerking off to Asian Bestiality Necrophilia porn. Fucking weirdos, back in my day we sneak into the forest during mating season and watch bears fuck to get our jolly's off. Sure it was risky, a bear in heat will fuck anything. If I had known that once that bear penetrated me and snapped my spin in two that I would never walk again I would have had the decency to go to the Deer Park Sperm Bank and made a deposit and hope to one day spread my seed again in hopes of getting a masculine son that was straight cause at the moment I can't feel any pain except the pain of knowing my sons are homosexuals." He bellowed out as Farlef brought him into John's apartment while Sarah came out of their bathroom and went to the bedroom she and john shared heterosexually pretending she heard nothing as usual.        

      "Dad you literally were about to explain what happened, said it all started in 1941, then went into some weird coma so we tied you to the roof of John's bitchin Brubaker Box and got the fuck out of Dodge”

     "Why where we in Dodge? We were in Deer Park, our precious holy land, burned to the ground"

         "Getting out of Dodge is just an expression and it turns out Deer Park was not burned down. The Moose used CGI to fake everything except our house burning down, that was real. They are sophisticated mother fuckers"       "You mean my antique collection of pharaoh pubic hairs are gone. I don't have a reason to live" Exclaimed Farlef's father. 

  Unbeknownst to Farlef and his brother, while their father had his 47th life crisis, they where going through his things and found charts and maps explaining the centuries long feud between Deer and Moose.

 "I’ll be right back I need to Back the bus out of the garage " Farlef said.

   "What?" John replied.

   "I need to Balance The Budget"

    "?"

    "I need to bomb the porcelain sea"

   "Seriously what are you going on about"

" I need to chop some butt wood, go colon bowlin', Dispense some soft serve, Drop Anchor, Fertilize the Ferns, Give back that Corn, Got to put one on the Radar, Ignite a Rectal Rocket, Log into the toilet and make a huge download,  Pinch a Stink Pickle, Release the Chocolate Hostages, ya know Montezuma's Revenge"

  "Farlef I have no idea what the fuck your rambling about"”

   "I NEED TO SHIT JOHN, I WAS TRYING TO BE DISCRETE"

 "Oh why didn't you say something, you could of just said you needed to get a Stranglehold on a Darkie"

"Hot peppers have killed all that I love And what I loved was an asshole that didn't burn like the great fire of chicago" Farlef declared as he left the bathroom.

He felt like Johnny Cash cause his asshole was a Burning Ring of Fire. After thoroughly destroying yet another bathroom, a record 13 he walked into a sight he had no words to describe.

"I was gone for 15 minutes reading a nice article bout bay window decor in Good Housekeeping and this is what I return to. First off Dad, what in the fuck are you doing"

   "I AIN'T GOT A REASON TO LIVE BOY, I COULD ONLY DEAL WITH YOU NANCY BOYS WITH MY VINTAGE PHARAOH PUBIC HAIRS. PAPI MADE THE PAWN OF A LIFETIME FOR THEM. I GOT NOTHING" he yelled as he swung there, his neck too fat to choke himself.

And John, what the fuck is happening here"

    "ITS ALL CONNECTED FARLEF, IT ALL MAKES SENSE. DAD IS A RAVING HOMOPHOBIC, RACIST, PARAPLEGIC, CAN'T FEEL ANYTHING IN HIS LEGS BUT THE FEELING OF KNOWING HIS SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE TRIES EVEN THROWING HIMSELF DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS TO ELICIT A REACTION OF PAIN BUT THE ONLY PAIN HE FEELS IS KNOWING HIS SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL OF A MAN BUT HE IS RIGHT. ITS ALL ABOUT THE MOOSE. ONE SPECIFIC MOOSE, PEPE SILVIA" he exclaimed as he took another drag of his cigarette.

 "In the name of the Mailman, The Papi and the Holy Stag" Farlef prayed to himself. 

   His brother was right, so was his RAVING HOMOPHOBIC, RACIST, PARAPLEGIC, CAN'T FEEL ANYTHING IN HIS LEGS BUT THE FEELING OF KNOWING HIS SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE TRIES EVEN THROWING HIMSELF DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS TO ELICIT A REACTION OF PAIN BUT THE ONLY PAIN HE FEELS IS KNOWING HIS SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL OF A MAN SO HE STABS HIMSELF IN THE LEG WITH A KNIFE TO FEEL ANY PAIN BUT THE ONLY PAIN HE FEELS IS KNOWING HIS SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL NOW HE HAS A KNIFE STICKING OUT OF HIS LEG THAT HE DOESN'T FEEL ANY PAIN IN EXCEPT THE PAIN OF KNOWING HIS SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL SO HE TAKES ANOTHER KNIFE TO JIMMY THE FIRST KNIFE OUT OF HIS LEG BUT YET HE STILL FEELS NO PAIN EXCEPT THE PAIN OF KNOWING HIS SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL, NOW WITH TWO KNIVES STUCK IN HIS LEGS HE CAN'T FEEL father. The moose where behind everything. 

"Dad you need to tell us everything, how this began, why its happening, we need answers"

 "I TOLD YOU ON THE RIDE UP HERE, CLEAN YOUR EARS OUT AND STOP THINKING BOUT CHANNING TATUM FOR 2 GOD DAMNED MINUTES." He yelled still swaying from the ceiling. 

  As both brothers stood their in a daze thinking bout Channing Tatum and his luscious body, his father went on to tell the tale of the greatest story never told except when he is drinking and on the drive up and to a young girl the one year he played Santa Claus at Reindeer Festival in '98 where they sawed reindeer horns shorter so they looked like regular deer.

  "Do you unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit want to know the full story or just the cliff notes cause I don't got all fucking day. Now you slimy little communist shit twinkle toed cock-suckers cut me down, I gotta restock the pond with brown trout"   Not even 2 minutes after cutting their father down and watching him struggle to roll to the bathroom they heard a loud crash.

   “Fucking weak fucking ceiling can't even hold a fucking grown man's weight and his fucking wheelchair, good for nothing spic labor, Trump was right, build the fucking wall and make them pay for it. Sad part is they probably make it as shitty as your ceiling and first breeze rolls in the wetbacks would watch it fall over and then just get across" Farlef's dad muttered from the floor.

  "Ok queerbait and friend, story time, gather round the campfire" Farlef's dad said as he started a campfire in John's living room.

  "You want the whole story or the short version for your ADHD riddled minds" he asked.

"The beginning dad" they both said.

   "Ok I remember emerging from darkness, light blinding me. I was scared. I had emerged from nothing into this new world. A man in white was holding me and your grandmother and grandfather were there. I was naked and covered in blood"

"What the fuck you going on about" John yelled.

"You said from the beginning, I am starting with my birth, where was I? Ah yes I was crying for deer life, not knowing where I was or whence I came but every sight, sound, smell was new and exotic"

"Jesus fucking christ Dad tell us about the war, oh my God" Farlef said with disgust and mild intrigue.

"Fine for fucks sake, I asked if you wanted the long or short version ok, here we go……. We went on vacation to Moose Lake, Wisconsin, fucked shit up and now they hate us" Farlef's dad said as he took a puff of his deer shape pipe.

"OH MY GOD YOU HANDICAPPED OLD FUCK, ALL YOUR STORIES ARE LIKE THIS, EITHER WAY TO DETAILED OR YOU JUST MUTTER OFF A SENTENCE. FUCK. JUST TELL US THE STORY OF WHAT YOU DID AND WITH WHO TO PISS OFF THE MOOSE THAT AFTER ALL THESE YEARS THEY WANT YOU DEAD."

"Fine" he said as his eyes started glassing over, getting ready for another flashback.

    It was the summer of 1969. I was a young man, strong, smart, handsome, single with the legs of a Kenyan sprinter. Beautiful Adonis like legs, sculpted from marble. Hips that could crack a cinderblock between them and thighs that when they rubbed together started forest fires. If I wore shorts, panties hit the floor so hard it cracked concrete. My legs were so magnificent that it caused young men to hit puberty and women to ovulate. The population of Deer Park skyrocketed that summer when I came around.     

   Next was my brother from another Italian gangster mother, Sam. God Sam was a beautiful man. He was part James Dean, part Burt Reynolds and all sex. His nipples were the size of quarters, perfect. His ass was two handfuls of glory and his crotch was so astounding that he had to have custom cloths made to accommodate his Italian Stallion. I still remember when I could still walk we would go skinny dipping together and he would arise from the water, shinning in the moonlight, with a giant catfish on his crotch and he laugh it off saying he caught us dinner.

   Last but not least the third member of our rat pack, our Deer Drove. Papi. This is the sickest mother fucker I ever met. I met him one day while perusing a local mom and pop shop for some pop and a milkshake. As I was about to pay a brown hand stopped me. I was about to undo my pants and show him my legs, that usually did the trick when anyone fucked with me, but I looked into his eyes and saw myself. The past, present and future. I saw all possibilities and no possibilities. Time and space stood still in this man's eyes and I realized we were now imprinted for life. He then proceeded to throw a Molotov cocktail at the waitress and we fled with a free coke and a shake. We been best friends ever since.

The three of us where hanging out, getting ready for the Bi-Annual Running of the Farlef. It was a hot August 9th and it was an especially important year, it was the Bi-centennial of the founding of Deer Park. It was a momentous occasion, after Derby Deer Races, Deer BBQ, the tormenting of the Moose and the popular Running of the Farlef, the great Deer Shaman was going to come down from the mountains and bestow his wisdom on the town.

It was nighttime when the mighty shaman came and told his tale, the true meaning of Deer Park.

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in moose blood, and dedicated to the proposition that all deer are created equal.Now we emerged victorious in a great civil war, testing whether that deer or moose are the horniest and so dedicated, can long endure. We met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their antlers so that Deer Park might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this and of course fuck with the shitty moose.    But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave Deer, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this Deer Park, under Farlef, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that Deer Park of the deer, by the deer, for the deer, shall not perish from the earth. Amen."

       Grown men brought to tears at the great Shaman's speech. Women were so distraught they could not be consoled. Sam, Papi and I though swelled with great pride listening to this one of a kind speech from the elder Deer Shaman. A great pride in being a Deer Parkian and an even greater pride in being heterosexual apex predators of the Cervinae Animal Kingdom. It was that majestic moonlit night we decided to take a pilgrimage of 1,383 miles to the town of Moose Lake, Missouri, bypassing 18 construction zones to do what our forefathers had done for a millennia, FUCK WITH MOOSEKIND.       

After 21 hours, 13 bathroom stops, 2 glory holes and pawn of a lifetime in North Dakota, we made it to Moose Lake. In our time in the car we thought up the most vile, fucked up things to do to this town.

 First we found the first Moose we could and dragged it into their lake and poured liquid nitrogen on it freezing it in place. 

Then we found another Moose in that same lake trying to swim away and we decided to surf him. 

Once we put back on our clothes and dried each other off it was time to raze some hell in the name of Deer Park in their town.

   Papi and Sam decided to fuck with the local economy by firebombing their local pawn shop and Post Office respectively. I decided to defile their prized moose statue in the middle of town.

  I think it was some of my best work yet. Once we finished razing the town we decided to pollute their great lake, not realizing what we were doing would upset the peace treaty between our great families. To fuck with each others town was one thing but in the holy treaty it is stated "The Park and The Lake are off limits." Our ancestors were men of few words.  Once we arrived back at the lake we unleashed our secret weapon. BEAVERS. Three thousand angry beavers. They ravaged the local fauna, cutting down every tree and making a giant dam ruining Moose Lake for years to come. 

  By Papi's best estimate, in 31 years, with their main water supply cut off from the river that feeds into Moosehead Lake, the town would wither and die. Papi was into the long con and it suited me and Sam just fine. Once we were finished we got the hell out of Moose Lake and returned to a simpler life.

  "Little did we know that by cutting off the supply to Moosehead lake we awoke their shaman, a mighty beast by the name of Pete Silvia. He was the one who once awoken, to gather his strength created the APSAA to take down Papi, he rose through the ranks of the Post Office to become Postmaster General and made Sam never able to retire, made his routes longer and switched his mail order bride with a moose spy that poisoned him once they realized old age wouldn't kill him. And of course you know what they did to me. They brainwashed my young son during a wrestling match and turned him gay. They where behind all of it boys. Tonight was their final assault, they want to end this once and for all. So now I ask, are you with me, ready to take up arms against these Moose Mother Fuckers, defend our town and our rights to arm bears and drive these fucks back to their shitty lake or will you turn your back on your heritage, your history, your own livelihoods and sit their on your asses browsing Deer Parkr for some Antler. SO WHO IS WITH ME" Farlef's dad let out with a mighty roar, showing signs of a young Buck in heat once again.     

   Farlef and John were too busy watching the latest episode of My Hero Academia to notice what their dad was rambling about. When he was about to tell his story of what happened his eyes fogged over and he went comatose again so they turned on the tv.

  "GOD DAMN CARTOON WATCHING FUCKBOIS, I JUST TOLD YOU THE STORIED HISTORY OF WHAT HAPPENED, WHY OUR HOME IS GONE, SAM OUR BELOVED MAILMAN IS DEAD AND PAPI HAS BEEN CAPTURED AND TORTURED FOR THESE PAST 7 YEARS AND ALL YOU CAN DO IS WATCH SOME FAIRY SHOW BOUT GOOKS WITH SUPERPOWERS?"     All Farlef heard was Papi was still alive. He owed everything to that man and no new episode of his favorite hit anime My Hero Academia or Boku no Hero Academia  ,for our Japanese readers out there, was going to stop him.

"Dad as usual I have no idea what is going on or what you just said but I am in" Farlef replied, steel determination in his eyes.

"I'm in too dad, I swore I would never raise a hand in violence again after my time in the Congo but this reckoning is a long time coming" John said.

"Get the fuck out" Sarah replied as she turned the tv volume louder.

"All boys, its us Evans men against the world. Just the way we like it"

As the three of them got into John's bitching Brubaker Box one thing was known for certain.

HOUSE EVANS WAS ON THE WARPATH.