#I will not apologize for Beaker Ford

[ruingpetals]

It came to me like a dream

Okay so my fren sent me a silly screenshot of Ford and my hands slipped, now he exists-

And for funsies,

[prorevenge]

The wrath of the stoner art student.

So I think this would count as pro revenge because I planned it kinda. A bit long, sorry bout that first time really posting this anywhere. TL:DR at the end.

Things to note:

As the title says I'm an art student, I live with my parents while I'm on college to cut living expenses.

Couple of years ago my dad had a security system installed that came with two camera to set up. One pointed at the side door and drive way. One pointed at the street by the front door. So you can see the cars. It has an app we all installed on our phones that gives us alerts.

I also have this shed I asked my parents if I could use for most of my art as it gets messy. I would always clean up after myself but paint still stains the carpet and if I had to smell that tangerine floor cleaner one more time I was gonna barf. I fixed it up a bit, still looks crappy but it's mine. took about two weeks to set up.

We also have a problem of people going through cars....a lot...like ridiculously so. I have a crap ford tempo that I never kept anything important in so I didn't care.

The incident:

As I said I have an art shed and I'm a student of the visual communication program in my local college. My professor had given us our term assignment which was basic but fun. Pick a piece that was in the text book and either write a 10 page essay on it or do a recreation with a two page blurb of how you copied the techniques yada yada.

I was stoked because van Gogh was covered in there and I wanted to do a piece called "cafe terrace" it's a gorgeous piece. And I put a lot of time and effort into this thing...and smoked a lot of weed while doing it haha.

But one night my phone gives me am alert from the security system while I'm at a small party (get together? ) and I see a blurry image of the three teens running past my side door. I thinks odd but I wasn't home to check it out immediately.

When I get home from being driven by a friend from a party I get back to see my car door ajar and i roll my eyes because it's annoying but not new. But then I remember the alert on my phone and went to check around the house. Check the shed last because there's a lock on it, it'll be fine right? I live in canada who is gonna break into my shed ha..hahaha

When I get to my shed it's trashed. Lock on the ground. The material I hung up to over the ceiling was ripped and burned. All works of art I put on the walls were ripped down. My paint was everywhere and my pastels were stomped on. They even broke my fucking little shitty stool I nicknamed hermet.

But the worse was my term project was destroyed, cut apart and then repeatedly smashed.....with my mother fucking bong. My 9mm glass beaker bong that I got as a present. Two weeks before I had turn that fucking project in.

I was livid.

The revenge:

I was able to get a weeks extension as I emailed my professor and sent him photos including the security alert and contacted the police about the destruction of property (still can't get over them looking at my shattered bong and me just whipping out my green card to be safe)

Clean up was a couple days and I did manage to turn my project in on time without the extension by just not going to sleep. First one was better but hey.

I was still pissed tho. I kept thinking of ways on how to catch them or lure them in and scare the crap out of them. So...I left change (loonies and twoonies stuff they would go for) and fives in my cars console. Left my doors unlocked and at the front of the house. I turned on that camera (as it had been off for a while because it would go off a lot) And I kept a bat in the shed and the side door. No guarantee that's it'll be the same idiots but I keep hoping. A few people picked my car but it wasn't those turds so I waved it off.

A month later and a Few days after my finale exams I'm in the shed at 2am smoking, and sketching something when the alert goes off. It's the front camera and I see three familiar looking blurs ransacking my car. I grab the bat and before I set out I hear them coming towards my shed. I flick the string of lights off and I let them get closer before I jump out with a bat in hand.

One of them screams so loud before they book it and I run after them to scare them away. I'm bad a running and fully expect them to outpace me

But one of them cut across my front lawn and slipped on wet grass. He bifs it and I catch up to him and grab him by the back of his hoodie with the bat threatening him

"WERE YOU THE ONES WHO TRASHED MY SHED?!"

"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I WON'T DO IT AGAIN"

"THE FUCKS YOUR NAME?"

"MATTHEW" his name was not Matthew

"GIMME YOUR FUCKING WALLET"

The dude throws it's and I let go of him to retrieve it and he runs off. whatever.

I pocketed my five plus what I'm assuming was another 40 bucks of stolen money. Took a look at his wallet and his high school id with his real name was there. Fbed his mom and told him what happened and emailed the school as well, mentioning I was a previous student there and that I was "devastated" that this how the school teaches children.

haha

The mom turned up at my door with another mom and a older dude and the three turdlings. They had to apologize to me in person.

Isn't that nice?

(also think my prof gave me a few more points than I deserved on the piece I submitted just because of what happened. Bless you soul Clint. That painting was shit but you gave me 82/100 anyway)

again sorry this was long

TL;DR: Punk kids go through my shed and trash it. Lure them back in a month later and chase them a baseball bat.

(source) (story by PretentiousBanana)

[rational-mastermind]

So I was watching Flubber with the family tonight at dinner and, of course, immediately “inventor” made me think of Fiddleford. But not in a Flubber!Au kinda way.

It made me visualize what it’d be like, Fiddleford’s silly inventions all over the house, the basement, the lab, the dorm. Doing the small things he needs like folding laundry or fixing meals. Ford having to step over wires and be careful of beaker and whatever’s blowing steam.

And then an idea struck me: what if they DIDN’T get along well at first?

What if at first in college, Fidds and Ford just couldn’t see eye-to-eye and Ford never thought he’d have more trouble living with someone else besides Stanley.

“Fiddleford! Your silly robot just spilled oil all over my thesis!”

“Ford would you turn out the light?? Some of us like to SLEEP at 2 in the morning!”

“Fiddleford WHY do you HAVE to play the banjo at 6:30?!”

“If your Leanin’ Tower of Books breaks my machine, I swear...”

“....It’s not going to work.” - “For the last time, I’m tellin’ ya it IS TOO.” - “Oh for frick’s sake, SPEAK. ENGLISH!” - “Look, as opposed to your lazy ass, I quintuple-check my equations and I can garuntee that it’ll WORK!” - “You mean how it worked last time?” - “All it needed was a minor adjustment....” - “You almost caught half the dorm on fire in case you forgot.” - “A MINOR ADJUSTMENT.”

Or even doing small petty things to get on each other’s skin like, Fidds pulls a book out of place and it all tumbles on Ford. “Oh thanks for lettin’ me borrow your copy. I lost mine.” Or Ford switching the labels on some chemical compound Fiddleford was using. “Oh, gee, I don’t know how that happened.”

And like, Fiddleford always gives Ford shit because Ford just reads and writes he doesn’t actually create anything like he would and it’s not until Ford actually BUILDS something that WORKS and Fidds just stops and looks at it. Looks at him. “....Wait, why in tarnation are you in Backupsmore??” And Ford sighs...and sits...and retells his tragic backstory. Then they bitch about siblings (which is tougher? Living with a twin or living with 4 brothers and 3 sisters?), trade stories (”One time Stan and I had this idea...” “One time I lost my glasses in the pig’s yard...”). Ford points out a few things that Fidds takes into consideration. Fidds reminds him to bathe once in a while. They blow up the school on more than one occasion and while it’s nice that SOMETHING exciting happens at Backupsmore for once, the principle is getting pretty sick of seeing Ford and Fidds in his office and listen to them apologize for the 11th time in the last two weeks. Friendship builds.

And then Fidds is invited to live in Gravity Falls with Ford.

“Fiddleford!” - “What? Ford?? It’s...7:30.. Did you sleep at all?” - “Fiddleford your laundry robot was in my room again.” - “...so you broke it?” - “I thought it was a paranormal creature! It incinerated my lab coat with that laser you installed in it!” - “You still broke it..” - “Why the hell you think it’s necessary to attach a laser to everything is beyond me.” - “Cause the last thing I want is some nut job like you breakin’ it, doggonnit!”

I dunno.. It’s just really friggin’ funny to me to think about this. XD

[atlaswriting]

I watch with curiosity as Abrams hands delicately pick up a poetry book. Moving over the leather with such care, as if at any moment the book would disappear from his grasp, “Do you like that book?” I ask, choking back the intense desire to snatch it and show him each of my favorite poems. “My mother got me one of the first prints for my birthday, the author signed it.” There’s a look in his eyes I can’t place—dejection, maybe, and I begin to wonder if the feelings he has toward the book aren’t good, “I’m hoping to find one of her readings one day and going there—I hear she’s like no other, in person,” he places the book back on the shelf and turns toward me.

“So are you from Vermont? I’m from Boston, not that I expect you to care though you didn’t have a lot of questions so I could be wrong.”

I open my mouth to say something: you’re right, I don’t care. Or maybe: actually, I love Boston. Though their sports fans are a-holes. But the words die in my throat because the dizziness clenches my chest and I can’t control my body as it starts toward the floor.

Abram catches me, his reflexes quick but his words are a blur. They spin around me as he shoves food toward my mouth. The horror rises in my throat as I try to push it away—I want to argue: those bars are calorie dense and would take hours in the gym before I reach my deficit again.

Eventually, I stop struggling because it was all in vein, anyway so I allow two bites to pass my lips and nothing more. The Gatorade that follows is sweet and full of everything I try to keep my body clear of.

“By the way, they were buy one get one free,” he says and I snort.

I struggle from his grasp and allow myself to sit on the floor, trying to push away how many shoes have walked on it each day. An apology bubbles in my throat as I watch Abram sit on the floor.

“You can leave,” I tell him, running my hand through my hair. I hardly have the energy to rub my eyes, my body showing, not for the first time, how shaky my foundation really is. Haunted houses have nothing on me. ( see: ghost girl, always more than willing to exorcise her own demons rather than facing them. ) “That’s the end of the tour. The boy dormitories are on the east side of the building, girls are on the west—I’m sure they told you we’re not allowed in each others, else you want to be suspended,” I find myself rolling my eyes, “But they’ve never actually enforced that.”

“Actually, I’m fine here,” he says, resting his arms on his bent knees, “Is there a nurse you want me to bring you to?”

I try to laugh, imagining my mother’s face if I went to the nurse for hunger pains, “No.  I mean, yes, there’s a nurse but no I don’t want to go. Like I said, I just haven’t eaten much but I’ll be better once I do.”

Finding myself wanting to apologize once more, I choose instead to take another bite of the Cliff bar and hand it back to him, before the desire to finish it becomes overwhelming. “I’m from Los Angeles. I was born there, but I moved between there and New York my entire life. I’d say here is my home, though,” I admit, sadly. Unsure why the truth comes out so easily—I think it must be those eyes, so captivating and blue. They were an ocean I was willing to drown in, “I spend more time here than in either of those places.”

I’m slow to stand when I finally decide to, my legs shaking more than a fawn’s on her first day alive, “Thank you,” I tell him. “You didn’t have to—I just—thank you,” my mouth won’t form around the words ‘I’m sorry’ but I offer a shrug in its place.

♡ ♡ ♡

Today was the worst day.

I want to crawl out of my skin. Find a home that’s less like a prison.

Days like this I really hate myself.

Kai: I wish you saw what I saw.  You’re beautiful. Stunning. No other girl I’ve ever seen compares to you.

That isn’t true. You’ve seen one picture of me. From how many years ago? I look like an ogre now.

Kai: So send another one. I’ll do the same.

Kai: We don’t lie to each other—right?

Right.

You’re my North Star, Kai.

Kai: You’re my home.

♡ ♡ ♡

It’s Abram’s first hockey game and for some reason I find myself glued to a seat. Since I started here, I’ve refused to attend a game. The smell of the ice brought back memories I’d rather forget and sticks slapping pucks was a different sort of horror.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Sophie asks, snapping a piece of gum. She’s more interested in posting pictures on her Instagram story than the game itself.

I’ve forgotten how much I used to love hockey: the yelling, the fighting, hip-checking.

The team from New York is dominating the scoreboards—but I haven’t seen this much dirty playing since Andrew Shaw decided to bite someone during the cup play offs a few years ago.

“We’re supporting our school,” I chastise her like a child.

“Why haven’t we done it before?” She follows my gaze toward Abram on the bench, he’s not seen a minute of ice team and I can’t help but suffocate the need to yell at the coach. The feeling in my chest made me nauseous, “Gross, are you into Salvation Army over there?”

My jaw flexes under my skin and I glance at her, “He has a name.”

“Are we using it now?”

“God, Sophie, you’re like a bag of rocks sometimes.”

Finally the coach puts Abram in and I can’t hold onto the annoyance I’m holding in my chest for her because my eyes are glued to him. At the edge of my seat I watch as Abram takes a hard check into the boards—I’m standing and yelling before I can even help myself. Embarrassed, I sink back into my seat, more skin than bones.

He makes a short-handed goal—then two more before the final buzzer sounds.

My chest swells as the teams go into overtime and we win.

I pull out my phone.

I’ve forgotten how much I love hockey.

I wish I didn’t.

I text Kai and slip my phone into my pocket.

♡ ♡ ♡

“I saw you at the game last night,” Abram teases. We’d been paired up in science and I’m trying to focus on the task at hand, measuring each beaker carefully, but he keeps talking and his voice is sharp enough to sink beneath my skin, “My own personal cheerleader, eh?”

My cheeks are on fire and slowly it spreads down my neck, over my arms and through my chest. I feel like a forest caught in a blaze, afraid that all parts of me were going to be burnt.

“I was bored, actually,” I say absently, “I wasn’t there for you,” I taste the lie as I say it, the words are weighty and sour, “Besides, Jason was looking good, don’t you think?”

I reach into my bag, my hands surpassing the bottle of pills and opting for a small bag of almonds. My stomach gurgles in protest and despite my body being unwilling to bring a few to my mouth; I drop them in, keeping careful eye on the teacher who would flip his shit if he saw food.

Abram shrugs, “I guess if you like the smell of Tom Ford and poor life decisions.”

“How did you know? That’s my Amortentia.” I laugh through the joke, and I can see him smile.

“Wait—wait, wait a second,” he places a beaker down, a hand on his chest as his jaw falls, weightless, “You can read—and you like Harry Potter?” I know it’s a joke, but the irritation creeps in slow like a poison.

My brows crease and I glare at him, slamming my own glass beaker on the heavy-topped science table, nearly breaking the glass, “Are you trying to insinuate I’m illiterate?” I slip the goggles out of my hair, “Oh, what, do you assume I’m stupid because I’m well off?”

“Merde,” the curse leaves my lips and I slip out of the white lab coat that hung like a reaper’s robe on my shoulders, the anger spills like fire out of my bones, a dam that’s been cracked one too many times breaks and rushes over me. I know it’s uncalled for, the black hot anger that takes the place of blood, but I can’t stop myself. Lack of sleep and hunger are as lethal as a bomb.

Fury knows not the capabilities of a teenage girl.

“You’re an asshole, Abram Kempe,” I say as I pick up my bag, despite the teacher’s protest I head toward the door, “but what am I to expect from a charity case?” I say loud enough for the entire class to hear, “You’re like a stray dog, untrained and unwelcome.”

I really hate this jerk at school.

I text Kai once I can breathe again. Guilt seeping dangerously close to my heart. She beats, but barely, struggling to make a sound that’s human.

I wish you were here. I wish I could see you.

I need you more than anyone else right now.