#I’m a grown ass adult with car payments

[hymnless-space-nugget]

Why does my mother feel the need to constantly remind/tell me to do everything that I, as a 26yr old, am more than capable of knowing what to do myself? (i.e., to put new car plates on, to make sure devices are charged when a storm is coming, to drive slow in the rain, to buy birthday gifts, don’t forget library book due dates, reminding me to not approach my credit limit, etc).

I have always been a very responsible and orderly person ever since high school, and continued to be so when I took on adult responsibilities. Never did anything to get me in trouble or put me on the wrong path in life. I don’t know what makes her think I can’t handle knowing how to do normal shit in life as an adult. I feel like this is treatment deserving of a teenager who does need reminders.

Can anyone else relate??

[tharacelehar]

.

[mmimagine-40]

Birthday Girl

Avengers x Reader

A request from @maximeevansblog. I hope you like this!

Warnings: Cussing, talk of a lost one, and very long! (Sorry I got a little to carried away.)

Y/n groaned as the alarm on her phone started to go off. She blindly reached for it, turning the alarm off. Before turning to the other side of the bed, letting sleep take over her once again. Only to be scared awake by her door being busted open and being jumped on. “Wakey, Wakey, birthday girl!”. Sam yells. Bucky jumps on top of him. “Happy birthday, Y/N!”. Y/n groaned , being crushed from the two avengers. “Get off! You’re fat!”. “Wow, that's just rude! Are you going to take that from her , Buck.”. Sam asked, looking back at him. Bucky scoffs. “She was obviously talking about you.”. “I was talking about you both! Now get the fuck off!”. Y/n groans , trying to hit the two to get them off of her. Bucky and Sam finally get off her only to lay next to her, caging her in between them. “So what are the plans today , birthday girl?”. Bucky asked, poking at Y/n’s cheek. “For you two to get the fuck out of my room and let me sleep!”. Y/n groans , slapping at Bucky's hand. “Oh, come on! You know you want to spend your day with your favorite heroes.”. Sam says squeezing her into a hug. Y/n looked up. “Stevie and Nat are here?”. Bucky and Sam both gasp , ‘hurt’. Falling back , grabbing their chest. Acting like they were hurt. Y/n tried to use this to her advantage and get up , away from them. But the two grabbed her before she could. Pulling her back down and into a sandwich. Y/n groaned trying to hit and kick them off of her. But it was no use. “Hey birthday girl, Breakfast is ready.”. Steve says coming into her room. “Stevie! Save me!”. Y/n puts a hand out. Begging for Steve to help her. Steve sighed, shaking his head. “You guys were just supposed to wake her, not suffocate her.”. “Well this is just payment. She called us fat and that we aren't her favorite!”. Sam says. Steve shakes his head at the kindness of the two grown ass adults. He walked over grabbing Y/ns hand and trying to help her out of the death trap. “ You guys know that if the birthday girl doesn’t get her plate first , no one eats right?”. Both Sam and Bucky boo before finally letting her go before making their way out of her room. “Thank you , Stevie.”. Steve nodded heading out to. “Hurry up we are waiting on you...oh and Happy birthday.”. Y/n said a quick thanks as he leaves. Jumping up right after. Throwing on a bar and some slippers. Staying in her pjs as she makes her way down to the dinning hall. “Happy Birthday!”, everyone yelled , as soon as she walked through the door. Y/n jumped a bit. Still in a sleepy mind set. “Blow out your candles.”. Wanda said , laughing. Holding a plate out to her. With pancakes, the top one has a smiley face made out of fruits and whip cream. The nose was a lit candle. Y/n giggled softly. This was something that her and Wanda always made each other for their birthdays. Y/n closes her eyes thinking for a bit , before blowing out the candle. Everyone clapped and cheered as she did. Y/n smiled with a slight blush. Taking the plate from Wanda and making her way with everyone else to the table to sit and eat. Y/n took her normal seat in between her dad , Bruce, and Steve. And in front of Nat. “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.”, Bruce says. Pulling her into a side hug and kissing her forehead. “Thanks dad.”. Y/n says. Starting to dig in as did everyone else. This was a tradition for at least Y/n’s birthday. To spend breakfast with those who live in the building and just hang out for the day. Then having dinner with everyone. ( the only different people at dinner were Clint and Lauren, Pepper and Morgan, Peter, and some others who can come.). “SO I was thinking , for your birthday Y/n. That Nat and Wanda take you out to go and take you out to get your hair done and go shopping and whatever you want. My treat.”. Tony says. Y/n cuts her eyes at him. “That sounds great, but why are you trying to get me out of the building.”. Tony groans as his shoulders fall. “Just once I would like you not to be able to read through me and know what's happening.”. Tony says, pointing his fork at her, eyes narrow at her. “I’m the daughter of Bruce Banner.

One of the top scientists. Pulse I grew up a big part of my life in a super building with a bunch of super geniuses. What do you expect?”. y/n says shrugging. “Pulse Tony, she grew up around you. She knows all your tricks.”. Nat says , rolling her eyes at him. Tony just huffs. Making everyone laugh. The rest of breakfast went like that. Talking about the day and random things. Laughing and joking. Many jabs being thrown back and forth between Sam and Y/n. All in the name of friendly love and jokes. After everyone was done, Most everyone went to some meeting they had. Minus Wanda and Nat. Who told Y/n to go get dressed while they cleaned up. ( They were already dressed and ready. Knowing of the plan since yesterday.). Y/n ran up to her room , looking into the closet to figure out what to wear. Once she was almost ready , when a knock on the door interrupted her. “Come in.”. Y/n yelled, as she was getting her bag together. She turns to meet with her father coming into her room. “Hi dad.”. “Hey, Sweetheart. I just wanted to come give you your gift before you leave.”. Bruce says handing her a neatly wrapped small box. Y/n smiled in thanks, rolling her eyes playfully. “Dad , I told you I don’t want or even need anything.”. “I know but this is not just from me.”. Bruce says. Y/n looks at him confused as she opens it. Mouth dropping as she looked at the old looking necklace. With a single , simple diamond. “It's also from your mom. It was hers, passed down to her from her mother. Who got it from her mother. She wanted you to have it.”. Bruce says, explaining. Y/n nodded as she wiped her face from the tears that fell. Quickly wrapping her arms around her father. “Thank you, dad.”. “Your welcome sweetheart. I love you and I'm so proud of how you have come. And I know your mom is too. We both love you so much.”. Bruce says , holding her tight. Kissing her hair as he strokes her back. “I love you too, dad.”. Y/n says as they pull back. Bruce smiles at her wiping her face. “I’ve to get to a meeting. You should be going too. Have fun.”. Bruce says kissing her forehead one last time before leaving for the meeting. Not wanting her to see him cry. She really turned out to be just like her mom. Y/n wiped her face , clean of the tears. She carefully put the necklace on and grabbed her things. Heading down to meet up with Nat and Wanda. They all meet at the entrance of the building and head out in Nat's car.

The first stopped at the hair salon. Nat and Wanda also decided to get theirs done. You know since Tony’s paying. Y/n decided to get her hair dyed a dark , reddish/purple color. (Plus whatever else you’d like. Cut and so forth.) She smiled as the hair dresser finished really loving how it came out. After they were all done , they headed out to the mall. Doing so shopping but mainly goofing around. Just having some fun. At one point Nat broke off from them disappearing. Only to come back about an hour later. “Nat, where’d you go?”. Y/n asked as Nat met back with them at the Starbucks in the mall , getting drinks. Y/n’s face dropped as she noticed the smirk on Nat's face. Never a good thing when it came to her. “Natalia.”. Y/n said , starting to not trust her. Nat just smirked as she held out the thing that she was hiding. Which was a build - a - bear box. “Just a little gift for you, Y/n/n.”. Y/n narrowed her eyes at Nat as she took the box. Walking over to one of the small tables to see what she got her. “NAt”. Y/n groaned as she pulled out the Captain America bear from the box. She turns to Nat and Wanda. Who were both dying of laughter. When y/n first met the avengers and moved into the building. Tony asked her who her favorite avenger was. Thinking that she would say him , iron man, or her dad. Not expecting her to say Cap. Since then everyone teases her about it. Getting her Captain American themed things. Which even Steve found funny , mainly because it still bugged Tony that he was her favorite and not him. “Aw now you can cuddle Cap every night. Almost like cuddling Steve.”. Wanda said, The last part to Nat. “I’m sure she’ll like that.”. Nat whispers back. Y/n glared at them , still hearing what they said. She rolled her eyes at them. Nat and Wanda are convinced that Y/n liked the said Captain. “I hate you both.”. Y/n stuffed the bear back in the box as Wanda and Nat still laughed behind her. “Can we just get something to eat and head home? Please?”. Y/n asked , pouting. Crossing her arms. Nat giggled as she hooked her arm with Y/ns nodding. Leading them to the car. “Oh come on. It's funny. Pulse, I bet cap himself will think it's cute you have a stuffed bear of him.”. Wanda hummed in agreeing. “For the last time , I don't have a crush on him!”. Y/n pushes Nat off of her as she groans. Nat and Wanda look at each other , as Y/n walks off without them. Both breaking out to a fit of laughter. Y/n pouts as she stands next to the car. Waiting for Nat to unlock it. “Aw come on Y/n/n. We’re just playing with you.”. Wanda says as she walks over to her. Pinching her cheek lightly. Making Y/n break out into a smile as she pushed Wanda’s hand away, softly. They all hopped into the car. Getting something to eat and then heading back to the building.

Once they walked into the tower. They all went their separate ways. Heading to their rooms to put their things away , as well as Wanda and Nat where needed for something. So Y/n just heads to her room to put her things away. When she got the bear , Y/n smiled, shaking her head at it. Going over to lay it on her bed on her pillows. After which she sat on the bean bag , playing on her phone. Waiting till she was called down. Knowing that it was going to be the same like every year. Everyone set up a little get together down stairs like it was a surprise for Y/n. As she waited she out as facetime from Peter. “Hi, Pete!”. Y/n said , as she answered the phone. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!!”. Peter yelled as he came on screen. Y/n smiled , thanking him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there!”. Peter said pouting. He was gone on a school trip. “It’s okay , Pete. We can hang out and do something when you get back.”. Y/n said. They went on to talk about their day and random things. They talked for hours , till Friday informed Y/n she was needed in the common room. “I got to go. I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”. “Bye, Y/n!”. Peter yelled. “Bye Peter!”. Y/n yelled back, before hanging up. She sighed as she stood up putting her phone in her pocket and heading down to the common room. Again, as she walked through the elevator into the room , everyone yelled ‘happy birthday’. Y/n smiled as she saw everyone there. (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Tony , Bruce, Nat, Wanda, James, Pepper, Morgan, Vision, Pietro , Clint and Laura. Thor and Loki.) “Y/n!” Morgan yells running over to her. “Morgan!”. Y/n yelled back as she opened her arms and embraced the little girl. “I got you something.”. Morgan said, pulling away from her and grabbing her hand. “You did?”. Y/n asked. Morgan nodded as she dragged Y/n over to her Mom who handed her the note and little box. Which she gave Y/n. Which was a happy birthday letter and the box held a handmade bracelet. “Did you make these?”. Y/n asked. Morgan smiled and nodded. “Aw I love them. Thank you, Morgan.”. Y/n pulled her into another hug , before putting the bracelet on. “Look I made a matching one for me and I made one for Peter.”. Morgan explains showing Y/n her bracelet.

The rest of the night was spent just talking and joking. Eating so snacks Wanda made, some cake and also gifts. It was one of y/n favorite nights. Not because of the gifts but just getting to hang out with everyone. With her family. (Even if not everyone was able to be there.)

Gifts:

Nat: A beautiful set of Kunai's (Which Y/n always wanted since Nat showed her how to use them and showed her , hers. Bruce wasn’t too happy about it)

Authors Note: Kunai's are Asian throwing's knifes

Wanda and Vision: They both made you some of your favorite treats

Pietro: Random things that you show him and bonded over (Mostly music stuff like vinyl's and things like that).

Tony and Pepper: Pepper tried to stop tony but there was no stopping the man. He got you so many things. Shoes , bracelets , clothing. anything and everything he thought you might like.

Bucky: Put together a little box of things from the 40s like snacks and chips (You are always asking him about the 40s and what it was like)

Sam: A drone that looked like his redwing (Because you and Bucky always try to steal it and use it)

James: a bouget of your favorite things and gift cards

Thor: A beautiful golden goddess arm cuff

Loki: A book from Asgard (One of his personal favorite from when he was younger)

Peter: (He gave his to Tony to give to you) Lego set of your favorite show or movie

As it got later some people started to slowly leave, first of which were Pepper, Tony and Morgan and Clint and Laura. Then shortly after Steve left. Which was a little unusual of him. He was one who usually stayed the latest with Y/n. It was there thing to be some of the last few and as they head off to bed , he would walk her to her room and they would talk about everything and anything. Some nights the talk went over into Y/n's room. A few hours after Steve left, Y/n stood up yawning and stitching. Saying good night to everyone and thanking them for the amazing birthday , before heading to bed. She stopped by Steve's room to wish him a goodnight but found it empty. Y/n tried to shrug it off as she headed to her room. Y/n sighed as she walked into her room , putting everything everyone got her down. She had an amazing day , but she was really exhausted. Y/n turned to get ready for bed when she noticed a certain Captain sitting on the edge of her bed. Holding the bear . He was looking down at it. He turned his head to look at her , feeling her eyes on him, with an amused smile and eyebrow cocked. “Really?”. He asked, holding the bear up. Y/n laughed , rolling her eyes as she walked over to him snatching the bear from him. “One it was a gift from Nat. Secondly , don’t be rude to Captain Beary.”. Y/n said. Fixing the helmet on the bear. Steve laughed , shaking his head at her. “Captain Beary?”. Steve asked. Y/n took a seat neck to Steve , holding the bear close to her. Steve just laughed, shaking his head at her. He turned to the side where her night stand was and grabbed something. Handing it to her. “Here. I figured it was best to give you this to you when we were alone so Sam or Bucky didn’t get a hold of it. Or deal with Nat's teasing.”. Y/n smiles at him as she takes the beautifully wrapped gift. It was wrapped in a dark blue paper. “What is this that we would get teased?”. Y/n asked, smirking as she cocked an eyebrow at Steve. Steve laughed as he stood up. “Well I guess you're just going to need to open it and see.”. Steve made his way to her door. “Happy birthday , Y/n. “. Y/n smiled giving a nod to him. “Night, Steve.”. “Night, Doll.”. With that Steve walked out of her room , closing the door behind him. Y/n bit her lip as a small blush came over her at the nickname. She turned back to the gift. Carefully she opened it. It was a brown , leather notebook. The size of a book. Y/n opened it looking through the pages. All filled with drawings made by Steve. Somewhere drawing from times where they would hang out and Y/n would describe something and see if Steve can draw what she describes. Somewhere from the 40s and time of Steve growing up. Those ones Steve wrote on the back of the page explaining what it was or a small story that involved it. Something Y/n loved. She loved to hear stories like these from Steve and Bucky. Somewhere random drawings that Steve drew of her or things she told him. Y/n smiled softly looking through all the pages. But as she turned to the last page she became speechless. Mouth opening as she looked at the page. Tears started to form in her eyes as she looked at it. The last page , Steve drew a picture of her and her mom together if she was still here. Y/n hugged the book to her as tears started to run down her face. “Thank you, Steve.”. Y/n whispered knowing he’s probably within distance to hear her , with his super hearing and all. Steve smiled softly hearing her thank you.

I hope you enjoyed this! And if anyone else wants to request something don't be shy to ask! The next part of Pup will be up shortly. I'm just finishing up some editing on it. But on a different note how do you guys feel about maybe a Mob boss! Steve rogers or Chris Evans story? -MM

[fandomsandfeminism]

Just, honestly, I'm just peeved over it.

I'm a grown ass adult woman with a salary job, a retirement plan, a car payment. Im married. I pay all my own bills. I Adult on a regular basis. The last fucking thing I want to do is read some clueless fucking teenager rambling on about how I shouldnt call myself Queer because if I do, they won't know who I'm attracted to. Because it's not a useful label. And its a slur. And it means WEIRD and "I thought we wanted lgbt people to be normal. "

Child. Honestly. Have you even considered that like...you're Just missing SO MANY POINTS. Jesus Christ.

I'm bi. I'm queer. I'm both. I use both because both are true and authentic for me.

Get off my dash.

Ok. I'm done.

[ill-skillsgard]

Patterns in the Ivy, Part 1 - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Patterns in the Ivy

Description: A continuation of Smoke & Money. Ghosts from the not-so-distant past come back to threaten her. She must choose between a lavish life of servitude or have everything she ever loved stripped away.

Warning: 18+ smut/swearing/mentions of drugs/kink & fetish themes

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

I never thought that my life would turn out this way. One day I was on my own, living in a crappy apartment with nobody but myself to worry about and before I knew it, that had all changed. I had her now. My beautiful daughter. She was almost four years old already. I was constantly baffled by the amount of time it took for me to become the person I was meant to be; a mother to a child.

She was the most incredible human being that I had ever met. Every single day she got smarter and with each of those days, it became easier and easier to talk to her. When I had her, I named her Ivany. She was a sweet little baby with brown hair and big soul-searching eyes. I loved her immediately. All the world melted away. All my problems had been solved by the birth of just one perfect human being.

Nothing in my past meant a thing after she came around. I left my former self behind in favor of her. She made all the bad whispers go away. She warded off my loneliness and filled the silence. She occupied my ever-racing mind so that I could just feel calm when I hadn't ever known the definition of calmness. Ivany was my last strand of hope, the only one that couldn't break.

I did everything that I could to make our life together a good one. I found us a townhouse to live in and I found myself steady jobs to support us. Before Ivany, I never knew a life of selflessness. I didn't know what it was like to love another person unconditionally and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Our life together was fun and exciting with zero complications and that was the way I wanted it. But of course, life had its way of ripping apart everything I loved like a rabid dog, tearing at the seams with seemingly no effort at all. Just when I thought I had finally let my roots grow.

It all began on a day that I decided to take Ivany to the park after school.

I was sat on a bench with a book in hand, unable to really take in the words as I was too busy looking up every twenty seconds to check up on her. Sick of reading the same sentence over and over, I put the book in my purse. I preferred to watch her anyway. There were a few other children and parents around and more coming in. Off in the distance, I saw an older man with a young boy approaching and older kids walking in from school.

"Watch me, Mommy!" I heard Ivany call from the swing she had claimed as her own.

"I can see you, Ivy!" I called to her.

After a little while, the park started to get crowded. I stood up from the bench and circled around, following Ivany wherever she went. To say I was overprotective would be a grand understatement.

"Is that one yours?" A male voice from behind me asked.

I turned around to see who it was speaking to me. It was the older man I had spotted earlier with the young boy. I feigned a smile. "Yeah, she is."

"She's a real cutie pie, huh? That one's going to be a heart-breaker someday."

I laughed uneasily. "I'll teach her to break fingers before hearts."

"She looks like you, too."

I always had doubts whenever somebody told me that Ivany looked like me. I had dark hair, almost black in certain light and hazel eyes. My facial features were softer, my nose more rounded. The peaks of my top lip came up to sharp points whereas her's were fuller. Her eyes were pools of dreary green that when I looked into, I could see visions of my forgotten past. Ivany didn't look much like me at all.

"Thanks," I said to him anyway.

Suddenly, I heard a shriek and my attention perked immediately. The sounds of my daughter crying sent me running towards where she was standing next to the swing set.

"Ivany!" I called.

The boy that had come with the man was standing beside her, little fists clenched at his sides and my daughter was crunched into a ball, holding her head and crying.

"What's wrong honey? What happened?" I asked her, kneeling down to look at her face.

"That boy hurt me!"

I moved her hand from where she had been clutching at her hair and saw that her pink barrette was askew and it looked like some of her hair had been ripped out. The more my daughter cried the angrier I got. The boy stood there watching, stone-faced and unmoved by her tears. I stood up as the man approached.

"Hey buddy, your kid just ripped out a chunk of my daughter's hair!"

"Kevin, that is not very nice! You apologize to the little girl this instant!" The man said.

The little boy turned towards us despondently and mumbled a half-ass, "sorry."

I lifted Ivany up, shot the both of them a glare and marched off with her in my arms, purse swinging from my wrist. Once we were far enough away I brushed my hand through her hair and rocked her a little bit.

"Are you okay to walk to the car, Ivy?"

"Yes, mom."

I set her down on the ground and looked at her red, puffy, crying face with sympathy. Unclipping her barrette, I smoothed out her hair and clicked my tongue in contempt.

"It's going to be okay, honey. Let's go get something to eat and then we'll go home and watch a movie."

I took Ivany home and got her settled down, fed and set her up in the living room with a blanket and her favourite movie. My girlfriend from next door was going to make her way over so that I could get ready for work.

Every two weeks I had to work late nights at my job and I had nobody else to watch Ivany. I had become very close to my next door neighbor, a petite ray of sunshine by the name of Kiki who had come to live in the States from Korea when she was just a girl. She and I got along well and Ivany loved her so we naturally became a little unit. I would look after her cats and she would look after my kid. It worked out well for both of us.

"Mommy, do you have to work?" Ivany asked me as I fluttered around looking for my misplaced items.

"Yes sweetie but Kiki is going to be here with you and you guys can watch TV together."

"I don't want you to go."

I stopped what I was doing and gazed at my daughter sitting up on the sofa. The look in her eyes made my heart sink into my stomach. I didn't want to leave for the night either. I had no choice when it came to working late nights. It was the only thing keeping me on top of my bills and rent.

"I'm sorry Ivy. I'll be here in the morning so don't you worry, okay? Work is just something adults have to do so you just worry about kid stuff like what kind of ice cream you want to have later and I'll take care of grown-up business. Deal?"

A smile on her face, she nodded at me. As long as she was happy and smiling, working a night job didn't seem too bad. Even if it was a gig as hostess of a strip club.

It wasn't ideal and I didn't love the idea of being around handsy drunk men but I got paid well for what I did. I was like a top-shelf shooter girl that still got tips but didn't have to take my top off and swing around a pole. Truth be told, it was a little reminiscent of my old job, only I didn't have to suck any dicks and nobody was actually allowed to touch me. I just had to kiss ass and serve drinks to bachelor parties and horny businessmen. I received the odd slap on the ass or 'accidental' tit grab but that was nothing compared to what I used to endure for money.

I didn't plan on being a glorified cocktail waitress for long. Just long enough to save for a down payment on a real house in a nice neighborhood near a good school.

Kiki arrived just in time for me to leave so I didn't have a lot of time for chatting. I gave Ivany a kiss, grabbed my purse and took one last look in the mirror to make sure I looked strip-club presentable. I never wore my uniform around Ivany. I kept it in my purse to change into when I arrived at work. It wasn't the raciest of outfits but it required me to wear a garter belt and stockings underneath a tight pair of high-waisted booty shorts, something I didn't need her to see me in. The last thing I wanted was for my four-year-old daughter to see me all sexed up for the job that I left for at night.

It was 7 PM when I arrived at work, an hour we called 'the graveyard' because we only had a few regular patrons at the bar and the dancers had yet to come out. It wasn't until later that we drew the curtains and turned up the music.

The club I worked at was upscale and recently renovated with a brand new stage, beautiful lighting, and a state-of-the-art sound system. The types of shows we put on were a little more tasteful than the average strip joint. Some of the girls put on spectacular performances, embracing the entertainment side of stripping and burlesque with lavish stage props and expertly choreographed routines. I had made friends with the owner as a cleaner but was quickly offered a job bartending. After I got good at that, I was promoted to head hostess when the last girl got caught running game in the VIP area- offering sexual favors for extra money on the side.

As I was preparing the bar for what was promising to be a very busy Friday night, my boss, the club owner, approached me with outstretched arms and a smile.

"My favourite Miss J. I have a special super-duper opportunity for you tonight madam and you are the ONLY lady on this planet for the job!"

"Oh my God, please don't ask me to clean the bathrooms again, I thought that's what the cleaning girl got hired for."

"Oh no, no, no," he clicked his tongue at me. "Somebody has requested your service in the VIP for tonight."

"What? Somebody specifically asked for me?"

"That's right," he sang. "And I know you're going to work that sweet, sweet magic and make Louie and yourself a lot of money."

"Is it a bachelor party?" I sighed.

Large groups of drunk men were not my favourite patrons to serve because at least one of them always mistook the waitresses for strippers and got warned or thrown out by security. It got old trying to explain the no-touching policy to someone who had chugged their weight in beer in the name of love.

"It's not a big party but they did rent the entire VIP lounge. Big money. Big, big money." Louie wagged his eyebrows at me.

"Oh no... Do I have to suck a cock or something? Is that what you're getting at?"

Louie laughed and guided me by the shoulders away from the bar area and towards the back room for a little more privacy.

"You don't have to do anything weird. I already explained that you are not one of the performers. They simply requested your services and yours alone..."

"I feel like there's something you're not telling me, Louie. What is it?"

Louie held his hands up in mock-prayer. "You know I would never ask but this is a very rich customer and if a blowjob means you and I can afford steak for dinner every night for the next couple of months... Would you be totally opposed?"

"Ew, Louie!" I hit him weakly. "You know I don't eat that shit."

"Eat the steak for me, honey! For us! I mean, I have my own price and I know you do too. Everybody does! Just... Give him the best damn service you can possibly provide, you hear? Don't do anything you're not comfortable with. Maybe take a shot or two. Who knows!"

I continued to whack him playfully, the saucy fuck. "I will serve the shit out of our prestigious guest but I am NOT sucking any cocks. I am above that."

"I'm putting Serge on the VIP with you so if you get uncomfortable you'll have him, 'kay? Now be good and smile. Stick your boobs out a bit more. You're starting at nine up there after its cleaned from top to fucking bottom."

"Wait!" I caught Louie before he flitted off to be meticulous somewhere else. "Just how much money does this guy have?"

Louie's eyes widened. "Honey, you don't want to know. He paid in cash. I would have shut down this entire place for the amount he was willing to splash. Let's just say I didn't bat an eye and neither should you."

I was extremely curious to know what kind of person needed an entire floor to themselves. Maybe it was a celebrity or a professional athlete. I had heard of the place shutting down for famous football players or millionaire actors before. I hoped it was somebody that I knew.

The club was alive with music by nine o'clock and I was getting ready to enter the biggest VIP room we had with a bottle of champagne that cost more than my monthly car payments and two glass flutes. Serge, the head of security, stood between the door and the top of the staircase to make sure nobody came up and there was another huge guy posted right outside the door that I had never seen before. I leaned over to Serge and whispered, "is he one of ours?"

"Nah. Client's guard I guess. Some important guy in there."

"Just a guy?" I asked, my intrigue growing.

I wondered what the second glass was for then if there was only one person in the room.

"One guy, one guard. You let me know if you have any trouble."

"Oh, Serge." I swooned at the hulking head of security. "I feel so safe when you're around."

That safety soon faded as I was allowed into the room and saw who our high-profile customer was. I nearly choked on my own tongue. I felt my toes go numb in my heels and my hands started to shake.

"Hello, Miss J."

I suddenly felt like my stomach was about to erupt. Nausea filled me to the brim and I had to close my eyes to try to stay balanced. Once I was convinced I wouldn't fall over, I opened my eyes and saw a man sitting at the table that I never expected to see again in my life.

"Bill? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"That's how you're going to greet your patron? I was told you were the best service in town."

If I wasn't so afraid to move I would have dropped the tray I was holding along with the glasses and the bottle of champagne.

"What is going on? How did you... How did you find me?" I asked, looking behind me at the closed door, wondering if I should make a run for it.

Bill leaned back in his seat, stretching out his long legs so he could cross one over the other. I gulped as I took him in, designer shoes to his tailored suit and his fucking face. He looked so much more mature than I remembered him. He had a few more lines around his eyes and his cherub-like features had sharpened up a bit more. He still had that same painful glower, the one I could feel making my skin burn from across a room. Five years ago I had been so terrified of him and now was even worse. This older version of him looked even more threatening than when we had first met.

"Bring me a drink, please." He ignored my question.

"How...? How did you find me?"

Bill only stared at me with those huge, unforgiving eyes. He beckoned me forth with his hand and I hesitated, rooted to the floor in my heels. I only approached once his impatience became noticeable on his face.

Each step I took towards him made my insides twist more tightly. I set down the tray and placed a glass in front of him, trying to ignore the way his eyes followed like rolling marbles in a stone statue. I was now too aware of the cleavage that my top showed and the shortness of my bottoms. I started to sweat from my forehead and armpits.

"And one for you too." He said after accepting the glass stem between his thumb and index finger.

"No thanks."

"J... Pour a glass for yourself and sit down."

"I would really rather not."

"Hm." He mused, setting the glass down on the table after drinking down over half of its contents. "I don't think the owner of this establishment would be happy to hear you're refusing me service."

"I served you. Are we done here?"

"Far from it. Sit. Please. Don't make me ask you again. I just want to discuss something with you."

I sighed dramatically and plopped down on the chair furthest from him. I still couldn't believe that he was there, staring at me and demanding my audience. I wanted to leave and tell Louie too bad, that I was refusing to serve him as he was a danger to me but at the same time I couldn't believe I was in the same room as him again. It felt like the worst case of deja vu I had ever had. A ghost from my past had materialized out of nowhere to terrorize me and there was hardly a thing I could about it.

"What would you like to discuss so badly that you had to rent an entire fucking floor to lure me into?"

Bill smirked. "I'd like to discuss our daughter."

My breath stopped and I felt my face go white. I couldn't speak for a moment.

"I... I beg your fucking pardon?"

"You heard me, J." He said as he took another sip of champagne.

"No, no... I must have heard you wrong because you said something that makes absolutely no sense at all."

"Drop the act already. I know she's mine. I know you know she's mine."

I wanted to wind back and hit him but I was afraid he might call in his bodyguard and then Serge would come in too and the whole room would just explode. I'd probably lose my job and that was something I couldn't risk. If it were me from before I ever met Bill, I would have hit him. I couldn't now but fuck did I want to. I wanted to slap that smug look off his face and I think he could tell I was contemplating it too.

"How. Fucking. DARE you presume MY daughter belongs to anyone besides ME! She is not yours! You have no fucking idea what you're talking about!"

"I know that Ivany is mine."

I turned away from him to try to compose myself. I knew I was about to lose my temper in a very bad way.

"How fucking long have you been following us for?"

"Long enough. You certainly didn't try very hard to cover your tracks after a while."

"I have no tracks to cover! I'm living my own fucking life! I shouldn't have to be looking over my shoulder for your spies! This is harassment! I'll take you to court for stalking me."

"And I'll take you to court for custody of our child." He said frankly.

"Ivany is NOT yours!"

"From what I've seen, she looks just like me and the timeline certainly seems to coincide with me having fathered that child. Deny it all you want but I know that she's my daughter and I've known for a long time."

"Then why now? Huh? If you think she's yours, which she is not, why did you wait so long to snake out of the fucking shadows you sick, arrogant prick?"

"I needed to be one hundred percent certain. Who knows who could have impregnated you at the time. You certainly knew how to make your rounds back then. I'm so glad to see you have upgraded to this dignified position."

I stood up to leave but not before hissing, "I'd fucking spit at you but I know that'd get you hard so... Fuck you! Goodbye. Don't follow me or I'll call the police. You're not the only one with bodyguards now."

Before I crossed the room to the door Bill cleared his throat. "If you leave this room I will have your job and I'll make sure the court knows about your profession when they ask me why you're unfit to have custody of our child. So I suggest you sit down."

Tears welled up in my eyes instantly. I clutched at my heart, unable to process the situation before me. Fuck. This was what I was always afraid of happening; the day my past reared its hideous head to condemn me for my poor choices.

"I don't do that anymore and I haven't since I left. Fuck you. Honestly... Fuck you. I have tried so fucking hard to recover from the wreckage and here you are after all these years trying to tell me what's what. Who the fuck do you think you are, Bill?"

"There are things we need to discuss so if you please, come back to the table and sit down with me." He ignored my lamentations again.

Defeated, I went back to sit down across from him. I crossed my arms over my chest and sat there scowling at him, hating him, wishing he would drop dead, wanting to bash his pretty face into the table or something.

"Thank you," he started. "Please, have a drink with me."

Rolling my eyes, I poured myself a small glass of champagne and sipped it meekly as I waited for him to say what he wanted to say to me. I watched when he pulled a pack of cigarettes and a chrome-plated lighter from his jacket pocket. He lit one and put his lighter away. I scowled at him even harder.

"I want you to come back with me. You and Ivany. I want you both to come back to the West Coast with me."

"No," I stated simply.

"She will have everything a child could ever need. The best schools, the best care available. She will have rooms to herself. She can take music lessons, dancing lessons... Whatever. Anything she wants she will have."

"We already have everything we need. I got her into a good school."

"A public school is not where a Skarsgård should be attending."

"Well, I'm sorry but you don't have any say when it comes to MY daughter. We are staying here. We have everything we need right here." I explained, drinking down the rest of the champagne before pouring myself another much-needed glass.

"So you think this little job of yours as a cocktail waitress is going to get you further than you are right now?" Bill asked.

I pressed my teeth together hard and balled my fists, doing everything I could not to lash out and flip the table. He had this miraculous way of crushing someone beneath the sole of his designer shoe without even blinking.

"This job pays me well as I'm sure you have probably fucking noticed seeing as you flushed a shit-load of money down the toilet just to be sitting here. You think I don't make good enough money? Is that what you're really worried about? Because you didn't seem to care that much the night you e-mailed a hooker to come to do your laundry."

I tried to bring him down the way he had shot me down but Bill seemed undaunted by my venomous words. He simply sipped away at his champagne and puffed his cigarette, rarely taking his eyes off of me.

"Well look at you now, serving drinks instead of pussy. You certainly have come a long way." He pointed out, tapping the ash from his cigarette onto the serving tray.

"Bill..." I said, exhausted already by the exchange. "Why the fuck do you want us to come back with you? What purpose does it really serve you?"

He crushed out the cigarette and leaned forward as if he were going to tell me a secret. I watched him bite down on his bottom lip, taking his eyes off of me for just a moment before he relaxed back into his seat.

"I just want what's mine," He told me. "Don't you miss being mine?"

I shuddered almost violently. That nauseous feeling returned to my stomach and I felt a new wave of sweat break over my skin. A lump so hard and ruthless formed in my throat that I literally choked on my words when I tried to speak.

"This isn't fair. You can't just come out of nowhere and uproot me because you want to."

"I want you and our daughter to come live with me. Why is that wrong? I've spent so much time looking for you."

I shook my head, incapable of processing all that was happening. I couldn't believe I was sitting across a table from Bill Skarsgård, the man who had caused me to flee my past life. The turning point of myself as a person. The reason why I had dropped everything and ran.

Those big, nebulous eyes raked over me and set my heart to hammering. I could not believe I was staring at his face again. I could not believe the way he licked his lips and kept his gaze on me. I could not believe how stunning he looked in his designer suit with his longer hair and his thinner face. His cheekbones were sharp enough to light a match off of. He looked tired but refined. Five years had most definitely turned the rich boy into a wealthy man.

And I just felt the same. Looking at him, I felt exactly the same as I did when we had first met; nervous and put-off yet unable to tear my eyes from him.

"I suppose I really have no choice in this matter. If I refuse you, you'll just take me down in court anyway." I sighed.

"Worse. I will get joint custody of our daughter and I'll take her with me wherever I go. Hawaii, Mexico, Sweden... She will see the world and she will know a life full of opportunity. She will have all the things a little girl could possibly want. Then she will go home to you and she will see her Mother struggling to pay bills, disappearing at night to do God knows what. She will look at her things and she will pine for her horses, her new toys, her art studio, her beautiful bedroom. She won't want to stay with you after seeing what her Father can give to her."

Fat, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I shook like a leaf in a storm and felt like one too. Tiny, insignificant and helpless. Bill was a monster no matter how beautiful he was. The inside of him was black as tar.

"The choice is up to you. Come home with me and live in happiness or refuse me and watch what happens. I'll give you a little while to think about it. Just know that I will not be far."

I looked up at him, mascara most certainly running down my cheeks, eyes blazing with hatred.

"Try to run and I will rain Hellfire down upon you," Bill warned.

Everything I wanted to say was flying around my head like birds rattled in a cage. There were so many things I wanted to spit at him but nothing would come out. He had me mercilessly beaten without ever having laid a finger on me.

"You can go now. Take some time to think about it all. I'll make sure to tell your boss of how professional you were with me." Bill said, changing the tone of his voice. "I'll see you very soon, J."

Without a word I stood up and left, closing the door behind me and shielding my face from Serge as I walked by but he caught me anyway.

"J, is everything alright?" Serge asked.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Serge. It's all good. Trust me. I'm fine. I have to go."

I grabbed my purse from the back and left the club without telling anybody. I got in my car and sped off to home. Kiki had fallen asleep on the couch but I didn't bother to wake her. I ascended the stairs and opened Ivany's bedroom door. More tears fell from my eyes as I climbed into bed next to her and pulled her body as close to me as possible. I pressed kisses into her hair, waking her slightly.

"Mommy?" Her little voice cracked.

"Sh, baby. It's okay. Go back to sleep."

[keldae]

This is one of the days when I don’t want to be a responsible grown-up. Right now I need a hug and a stiff drink and kitten pictures and real grown-ups telling me everything’s going to work out okay.

I don’t know how I got stuck in this.

(Whining of an adulting nature below the cut.)

So Bro1 had to move back into Chez Parents. Bro2 is living with Chez Parents for the moment. I live with Bro2′s fiancee across town, and they’re getting hitched in November. I don’t want to share this tiny apartment with a pair of newlyweds (and apparently Bro2′s fiancee is sick of living with me? idk, I’m going off of what Bro2 told Bro1 over text since she hasn’t said anything to me).

I got a text from Dad this morning going “Hey, Bro1 and I are going to go look at places in the city, want to come with?” He didn’t inform me until I was in the car and we were pulling up to the first place they’d researched via Google that they were looking at places to buy, not rent, with the intention that we live together.

I love my brothers and dad, really. And with the insistence on 2 bedrooms/2 bathrooms, at least Bro1 and I would be able to keep our distance from each other. But I was not ready to be told “oh, yeah, we’re looking into you two being first-time homebuyers!” Bro1 is the one who’s into business and stuff, and he and Dad are both going on about “building equity” and “investments” and shit, while I (who doesn’t understand ANY of that osik. I can and do read Shakespeare for fun, but equity? Financing? Anything big and important with numbers in it? I don’t get it. At all.) was planning on asking the local 501st if anyone knew of a cheap basement suite for rent in October/November. Hells, I’m pretty sure if I asked, someone in the northern contingent would let me crash up there if I got a job in Edmonton.

I’m hovering over the official provincial poverty line, but I’m way below what’s considered a “livable” wage in Calgary. Right now my rent is $600 CAD a month, with everything (utilities, WiFi, appliances, underground parking, etc) included. And I’m scrambling with THAT. I can’t go much higher on that, if at all. Between car payments, insurance, groceries, gas, and credit card payments, I’m struggling with my student loans, forget a MORTGAGE. This wasn’t something I was even planning on thinking about for another five years at the minimum. I wanted to be at least somewhat stable and not struggling with my living expenses before even thinking about buying a home. It almost feels like I’m being shoved into a marriage -- it’s supposed to be a sign of maturity, it’s scaring the shit out of me, and it’s almost as messy paperwork-wise to get out of.

And I would have, you know, liked to have been ASKED before getting dragged into this instead of Dad just assuming I’d be all for it, and being expected to go along with everything like a good daughter/sister. (Add in Bro1 bitching about the mere idea of my sewing stuff being in the main living area of any place... yeeesh. And it’s like he and Dad don’t understand that no, I can’t put my sewing desk AND my computer desk AND my bed AND my dresser into a bedroom smaller than my current room in this apartment. And no I don’t want to have my computer in the living room because goddammit I like to write and sometimes draw smut and I can’t DO THAT with my little brother, aka Judgey McJudgeypants, in the same room. And they go on like it’s my fault entirely that some of the places just don’t have an ideal space for my sewing shit, like I KNOW my hobby takes up a ton of room but if Bro1 was a little less anal because it’s not THAT big of an eyesore...)

It doesn’t sound like a big deal when I’ve written it out. But I’ve been having full-scale panic attacks in waves since Dad dropped me off at home, like the ugly-crying editions I haven’t had in years (it’s a good thing Roomie and Bro2 are in BC so I don’t have to explain shit to them). I’m scared and I don’t know how I can possibly accommodate this into my tight-as-fuck budget. I told Dad over text that I need time to think about it, and that my original plans had involved just finding a cheap basement in November, and he’s like “okay but your creative father just thought this would be a good way to help two of his kids get off the ground, and with the economy being shit and interest rates being what they are, now’s as good a time as any”. But he seemed a little startled when I said I was scrambling on $600 for rent as it is, so between that and seeing last year’s tax return, he should at least have an idea of how goddamned poor I am. Bro1, bless his asshole heart, is trying to go “but we can go in on some groceries and stuff, even though you’re on keto and I’m not, so that’ll save money right?” And he’s already talking about renovating the basement of one place we found to make space for a renter/extra income, and not hearing my alarm bells of “IT’S AT LEAST AN EXTRA TWENTY GRAND TO RENOVATE THE BASEMENT FOR A TENANT YOU TWIT”.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just overwhelmed with all of the things, especially with the last couple of places we looked at being “holy shit this isn’t a condo it’s too close to a full-size house TOO MUCH TOO MUCH ABORT ABORT ABORT”. I’m trying to be excited about the idea of being able to have my own place, and I know either way I’m gonna have to move before there’s a pair of newlyweds in this apartment, but fuck. I’m scared. This is a step I wasn’t planning on taking and I feel like I’m getting shoved off the diving board into the really deep end of the pool. Because if I fuck this up, there’s no real fallback option. And I don’t want to be tied down to one place/living with my brother for what could be 5+ years (and if Bro1 gets married? I’ll be out and renting again anyway. My demi/ace ass getting married? HA!). But if I try to just say “no, I don’t want to”, I’m pretty sure Dad will let me out, but I’ll get guilt-tripped for eternity for not going in on it.

I don’t know what to do.

[seouliloquy]

It seems like everyone is having a really rough time lately. I don't find comfort at all in knowing that I'm not alone, though. I don't know how anyone could, to be honest. But today is turning out to be a really shitty day.

Previously I had written about a problem with my tuition payments. I had anticipated getting a scholarship, but I didn't. So I had no choice but to apply to make payments in installments. However, the deadline for that application was also the deadline for sending tuition, which I waited until the end for my tuition payment stub online to show the reduction with the scholarship but it never did. So...i missed the deadline to apply for the installment payments as well. So on the very next day I went first thing in the morning to my global services office (since i'm technically an International Student) and they told me to go to my department office to ask if they could contact the financial services center and get them to allow me to apply a day late.

They never said I couldn't apply, and they didn't make a call. Instead, they told me that there was a 2nd period to apply, which started today, 9/11 until 9/13. So I was like okay, great and waited until today to send in the application. Turns out there was a language miscommunication (goddamn my Korean for not being good enough) and it wasn't a 2nd period to apply for the installments, it was a 2nd period to send the tuition. So, when i went to the department office again today to ask why my application wasn't working they were like "oh well you missed the deadline over a week ago of course you can't apply" and I'm like 'but you told me that i could apply today during the 2nd round" and they were like Oh...shit....no that's not what i said at all and we realized the serious misunderstanding I had because of fucking 2 words....! and they were like, there's nothing you can do except send the tuition by wednesday...

and i'm like, I have enough to pay half of it, but where do you expect me to come up with 2,000 dollars in 2 days? And even if i could some how miraculously find a way to borrow from a family member in the USA it would take longer than two days to make a wire transfer...

well then, take a semester off. no, i can't. if i apply for a semester off, i lose my visa and therefore would have to leave the country. forgoing student visa would result in me not just "taking a semester off" but actually dropping out of school, and then in order to come back I'd have to completely re-apply to school all over again, and the chances of getting accepted again are not so high, according to some people I know who made the mistake of thinking they could take semesters off like regular native students do...plus the cost and time of all that paperwork...and i'd have to leave the country. I have no where to go in the USA since i moved out of my parent's home years ago and they can't afford to take care of me...i'm a full grown adult and US healthcare is awful and i wouldn't have any health insurance to cover my Lupus treatments...it would just be a giant disaster....and i live with someone who relies on me for paying half the living expenses I can't just up and leave suddenly because of this stupid problem with just a deadline....!!!

so i was having a full-blown, completely internalized panic attack.

and then what happens, i get stupid and i start mulling, trying to figure out why my stupid ex boyfriend messaged me a few days ago casually asking how I am, pretending like he didn't leave me alone in the middle of the night to be assaulted and harassed by some old man and then dragged to the police station until 4in the morning, how he didn't completely leave me hurt and vulnerable and also ruined my best friend's birthday party and completely embarrassed me in front of my friends and other guests at her party, and he wasn't even sorry about it, and blamed me because of the argument we had when he left me there, which he started to begin with when i was trying to make him get over it and grow up! Plus i'm on my fucking period, I was running back and forth all day between offices and waiting around stressing about what to do, what the worst could happen, and i'm missing my classes and it's only the 2nd week of school, and missing classes affects my attendance which affects my grade and thus affecting my chances to get a 4.1 this semester so I can get a fucking scholarship next semester and not have to worry about this bullshit....

I was fucking pissed at him for thinking he had the right to even inquire about my wellbeing, when the way I see it, the moment he looked at me sitting on the curb crying, turned his back on me and got in that cab he lost all rights to even think about my wellbeing at all. So while i was sitting there waiting my fate at school, i raged at him. I told him how dare he think he has so much as half a right to speak to me let alone wonder how I am, how dare he act like we’re old friends who hadn’t spoken in a long time. I told him much i hated him, and how i wish he would get hit by a bus and die. how the world would be better off without his stupid existence. how i don’t care about him and how i’m better off without his pathetic, petty, narcissistic entitled ass giving me more problems than i need. and how yeah my life isn’t perfect or fantastic but it’s certainly better than when he was around. i told him how I seriously do hope he dies, and what did he say to me? "my lawyer just told me that what you just said I can use to sue you. "

LIKE WTF ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???? I told O and she burst out laughing.

you are a successful, college-degree-less hedge fund investor living it up with your new plastic girlfriend who isn't even pretty and probably only likes you because of your money (cause you certainly don't have a lovable personality, that's for sure) and you wanna sue your broke ass ex girlfriend for hating you. How narcissistic can you be? sorry princess, not everyone has to love you. And you want to argue with me that you have the right to inquire about how i’m doing because of freedom of speech and how you can talk to whomever you want? well then SO DO I, I have the RIGHT to tell you what I think about you. How stupid and low and self-centered, entitled son of a bitch cunt of a useless person can you be????? His poor miserable mother would have saved herself and the world a lot of trouble if she had aborted him. I was just so shocked...and also scared.  People in Korea who have money have a lot of power. They can do whatever they want, and the police in this country don’t give a shit about women or foreign women either so of course the man who claims to “feel threatened” in this situation is still going to have an advantage over the “barbarian foreign girl making death threats” um....I never said that I would waste my time attempting to kill you or arrange your death so I don’t know how that’s a threat but OKAY but WTF I know how this country’s legal system is complete shit when it comes to real justice and i wouldn’t be surprised if somehow the court would be laughing at this guy for doing something so stupid and petty but would just give him what he wants because he’s got money. UGH.

After hours of stressing I was able to figure out a solution to my tuition problem and it's in the works, and even though i'm glad things worked out, i've blocked my ex's ass like i should have ages ago, and i'm pissed that he actually is threatening to sue me and get me kicked out of the country...for expressing my feelings. If he claims to have a right to talk to whoever he wants because of freedom of speech, i have the right to speak my mind and tell him how much i hate him and how much I believe he doesn't deserve to live.

I really still just want him to hurt so much. more than I did after he abandoned me like that.....even if that means contracting a venereal disease or being crippled by a bus. I just want him to hurt. It's not fair for him to be living so carefree and happily, rolling around in his money while i'm struggling to survive, and trying my best to love myself and look out for what's best for me and be happy and keep focusing on my goals to finish school and be successful in my own way and then he thinks he can just stroll casually back into my life tralala like he did nothing wrong. He needs to feel pain, and be punished for what he did. It’s just not fair......

yeah, i wish i had more money so i could worry less about financial issues like this. but i'm not envious of him. I don't care about fancy cars or an upscale apartment in the fancy part of the city...but i wish i could just be happy and have the time and energy to do the things that I love, and be able to nurture good solid relationships with people who matter, be able to afford my damn healthcare and be able to love myself fully and be loved too and not have to deal with garbage like him and all my other exes and the evil people in this world who have tried to take advantage of me and hurt me.

I want revenge and I also just want peace and I'm SO. FUCKING. TIRED of this.

[pengychan]

The Mind Cage, Ch. 14

Title: The Mind Cage Summary: In another world, Stanford Pines places a metal plate in his skull far too soon. In another world, Bill Cipher is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Characters: Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Fiddleford McGucket Rating: T Click here for the first chapter, warnings and links to all chapters up so far.

A/N: So, the “epilogue” got longer than expected, and I ended up splitting it in one proper chapter and a short epilogue. But hey, time to wrap this up, so here’s the chapter. I’ll post the last part on Saturday at the latest.

***

For the rest of his life, Stanley Pines would repeat himself the same mantra whenever faced with an arduous task: ‘I punched a demon of chaos in the eye. I can do this’. It was a good mantra, really, and it usually worked.

The day he stood before the door of his childhood home for the first time in over ten years, the window of what had been his and Stanford’s bedroom looming above him like an empty eye, it wasn’t working at all. Everything looked the same - not the stuff in the front window, which had probably been long since sold and replaced by different things, but the house itself was just as he remembered, down to the doormat and the mezuzah by the doorframe.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” he found himself saying, and would have stepped back if not for Stanford’s hand on his upper back. Because he was right there by his side, and not up there at the window to turn away and close the curtains on his last plea.

“Of course you can. I wrote them - they know you’re coming,” Stanford said. In the weeks that had passed since Bill’s demise, he had changed so much he hardly looked like the walking skeleton Stan had seen when he’d first knocked at the door of his house in the woods. His hair had grown back a bit more to hide the surgery scar entirely, and he was well on his way back to a healthy weight. He was still a bit pale, but the dark shadows under his eyes were gone, despite the occasional nightmares they both had to deal with.

Stan’s own involved the water tower, and his brother, eyes gleaming yellow, throwing himself off it as he stood on top of it, unable to move or do anything to stop him, unable to even scream. He would inevitably awaken with a start the instant before Stanford’s body hit the ground, and truth be told it was a blessing, like he was being spared the worst of it.

As for Stanford’s… who knew. He never remembered them, or so he said, and Stan had never wanted to press on: if he did remember them, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about them. Either way, the bad nights had become fewer, more and more peaceful nights between one nightmare and the next. One day, hopefully, they would fade.

We can handle this. We can handle anything.

Stan drew in a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

The echo hadn’t faded yet when there were steps, quick and steady; dad’s steps, just the way he remembered them. Stan had a few seconds to panic and consider a quick retreat before the door swung open.

The man standing before him stood a couple of inches taller than him, a similar built, strong jaw and features that looked like they had been set in stone. And it wasn’t Filbrick Pines.

“… Shermie?”

Sherman Pines squinted, but other than that his face showed hardly any change. He had their father’s dark green eyes, the only one out of the three of them to inherit them; fitting, considering that he had always been the one to resemble him the most. Ten years their senior, serious and steady as a rock, he’d been a real bore. As kids, before he moved out to be on his own, the twins had tried all they could to get him to crack a smile, and the few times they had succeeded it had felt like they had scored a major victory.

“He’s just allergic to fun,” Stan had said once, before their mother had revealed him Shermie’s secret: he joked his own way, with a perfectly straight face, so that everyone else would be left wondering whether he was serious or not. To him, watching others squirm was the real fun. Which made him kind of an ass, but not a totally humorless one.

And, as he spoke now, he did sound perfectly serious. “Hello, Stanf– oh, wait. It’s the other one. What’s the name again? Sheldon?”

Yeah, sure. Like this is gonna work on me now.

Stanley suppressed a scoff and let his face fall into an identical mask of indifference. “You got it wrong as usual. It’s Steve, remember?”

“Sorry, Scott,” Shermie replied without missing a beat, and turned to glance over his shoulder, inside the house. “Simon, go tell your grandma that Sean and Stuart are here.”

There was a childish laugh, and a shrill voice. “Daa-aad, my name is Samuel!”

“Don’t talk back to me, Spencer.”

Another laugh, the sound of feet pounding up the stairs - holy Moses, was the one talking really Sam? He had been just a baby when Stan had last seen him - and Shermie turned back to them, expression still unreadable.

“And I assume that, after leaving me to deal with the old man and his shop for ten years, you want to be let in. With that hair, no less.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Shermie stared back at him, face stony. “I am beside myself with joy,” he said, deadpanned. “You still haven’t given me a reason to let you in.”

Stan grinned, sizing him up. He’d always been bigger than him, but now that he was an adult himself he was pretty confused in his chances. And, besides, he had punched a demon just two weeks earlier. “You know I could punch my way in, right?”

That did get him to crack something remarkably similar to a smile. “You? Hah! Hardly.”

“Wanna bet?”

Shermie shrugged. “I could take on your offer and grind you to dust, but then I’d have to clean up. And our mother may or may not lodge a complaint. So I’ll be generous and let you in behind proper payment,” he added, and glanced at Stanford. “Three?”

Stanford chuckled, and nodded. “Seems fair enough,” he said, causing Stan to frown.

“Three? Two wha– ow! HEY!”

“Ribs,” he heard Stanford saying behind him when Shermie caught him in a bear hug strong enough to make at least a couple of his ribs creak. Or maybe three, hard to tell.

“Okay, okay! Enough! I paid my due!” Stan wheezed, and felt more than he heard Shermie’s scoff before he let him go. Okay, so maybe he had been wrong thinking he would be able to punch his way through him.

“You thick-headed animal,” Shermie muttered. “Why the hell haven’t you come back sooner?”

“You know why. The old man–”

“To hell with the old man. You could have come to my place.”

Stan grinned, hoping that would be enough to hide the way his heart clenched at the realization he really meant it. “Aww, you do care,” he said instead, to an expressionless face.

“I can neither confirm nor deny–”

“… Stanley?”

Oh. Oh, God.

His mother has spoken softly, but her voice may as well have been loud as a gunshot. The moment the name was out of her mouth, Stan winced and Shermie immediately stepped away from the doorway like a trained soldier - leaving him to face his mother for the first time in over ten years, at least in the real world.

She had grown older and a bit thinner. There were gray wisps in her hair, signs of aging at the corners of her eyes and mouth, some wrinkles starting to show on her neck - and yet the look of wonder on her face made her look her younger than ever. Plus, she still absolutely rocked that red dress.

All of a sudden, every single one of the small speeches Stan had prepared in his mind during the long trip to New Jersey - made even longer by the necessity to avoid at least most of the states he was banned from, or wanted in - vanished from his mind like smoke.

“Hey, ma,” Stan found himself saying, his mouth dry. “You look great.”

Maureen Pines opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then reached cover it with her hands, and let out a noise that was somewhere between a choke and a laugh. “Flatterer,” she managed, but Stan hardly even heard her: even as she spoke her eyes had filled with tears, and he couldn’t stand watching that. He just couldn’t.

So he closed up the space between them in two strides, and hugged her tight. Just like in Ford’s mind she seemed so tiny, even in heels.

My little free spirit, her memory had said. Not so little anymore.

“I missed you, Ma,” he choked out. When had he started crying? Dammit, he didn’t mean to cry.

“Oh, Stanley. I missed you too, so much. Please, forgive me.”

“… Huh? Forgive you for wha–” Stan began, only to trail off when she suddenly pulled back and slapped him across the face, hard enough to make his head whip aside. Through the smack ringing in his ears, he faintly heard the sympathetic hisses coming from his brothers. Somewhere on his left, a childish voice - Sam? - muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘ouch’.

Ah well. Not the first woman to do it, anyway. Marylin’s slap in Vegas when he’d found her trying to steal his car, with the cheap ring still at her finger, had been a lot worse. What his mother said, however, stung a lot more than anything she could have done.

“Over ten years! Not even a phone call! Not one, Stanley!”

But I called you, ma. Used my one phone call from jail once. I was just too ashamed to speak.

“Mom…” Stanford began speaking, but Stan wouldn’t have him speak on his behalf now. So he straightened himself, faced his mother and gave his most sheepish smile.

“… Sorry it took me so long, ma. I got you flowers,” he added, only to realize a moment later that he had forgotten them in the car. But it didn’t really matter, because of course his mother wouldn’t have cared if he’d showed up on a white steed, with all the roses in the world and all of the cash money ever printed. He could have showed up in rags for all she cared, and it would have been enough. He was enough.

“Flowers,” she repeated, and laughed. Her laugh hadn’t changed, either: it still had the same girlish quality to it. “Gone ten years, and you got me flowers.”

“Yep. I think they’re in the car, though. Maybe I should go get ‘em? They probably need water and–”

“Stanley Pines,” she cut him off, holding out her arms. “You are going absolutely nowhere for the next two weeks. Neither of you is,” she added, and smiled again through tears, holding out her arms and glancing at Stanford. “Come here, both of you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. It had been a snug fit in her arms when they were both children; now that they were both grown men and easily taller than her it felt pretty crowded, but still just as good. No, even better: Stan had never needed a hug more, and he was rather sure the same went for Stanford. It felt as though nothing and no one could ruin that moment.

“I almost thought you were dead,” Maureen Pines choked out, holding them both. Stan opened his mouth to speak, but someone else got there - Shermie.

“She’s being overdramatic. Of course she used her amazing psychic powers to know you were fine.”

Stan snorted, glaring at him over his mother’s shoulder. “You’re still an ass.”

“Stanley! Not in front of Samuel!” she protested, finally pulling back. “I taught you better!”

“Yeah, watch your language in front of my fucking kid.”

“Sherman Pines!”

Stanford rolled his eyes with a sigh and Shermie showed no reaction at all, but Stan couldn’t hold back a snicker - and neither could Sammy, standing right next to his father. He was a cute kid, with brown hair and the same green eyes as his dad, and he was on the small side for his age. Still, having last seen him as a wailing infant the night he’d been thrown out, Stan couldn’t help but marvel at how much he’d grown.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, crouching in front of him. “You don’t remember me, but I’m your Uncle Stan - I babysat you plenty of times. Nice to meetcha,” he said, and held out his hand. The kid smiled, and immediately reached out to shake it.

“Is it true that you wore Groucho Marx glasses at your Bar Mitzvah?”

Stan laughed. There was an odd relief in realizing that he wasn’t a complete stranger to that kid, that he hadn’t been entirely written off the family history. “You bet! Your grandpa was not impressed, but then again he never is, huh? Hey, aren’t you about eleven now?”

“And a half! My Bar Mitzvah is next year! Will you and Uncle Ford come?”

Stan smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo,” he said, and he meant it, he really did. “You know, I think those Groucho Marx glasses might still be around here somewhere. If you find ‘em, they’re yours.”

“Cool!”

Shermie raised an eyebrow. “Samuel, I forbid you to wear anything like it in the temple.”

Sam pouted up at him. “You forbid me to do stuff all the time.”

“It’s my job. Yours is not to listen.”

“But then what’s the point?”

“So that I’ve done my duty as a parent and am therefore free to complain about kids these da–”

“Maureen? Who is it?”

The voice cut off Stan’s laughter just as it cut off his brother’s sentence, causing a sense of dread to spread in his chest.

No. Nope. Not ready. No siree, not at all.

The thought of turning and bolting out of the door did cross Stan’s mind, but he didn’t - if anything because he suddenly found himself unable to move. He just stood there, glued on the spot, when Filbrick Pines appeared in the doorway - or at least, someone who looked a lot like him did.

The man he remembered stood straight as an iron rod, his jaw always set, his suit impeccable, a hat always on his head and with shades to cover his eyes. What he found himself facing was an old man shorter than himself, back curved and leaning heavily on a cane, thinning hair and mustache gone from light brown to iron gray. The hat was gone and so was the suit, replaced by an old man’s a housecoat; without the shades, his eyes looked larger than they had any right to be. His gaze, no longer hidden, seemed horribly vacant, in a way it had never been before.

Stanford had warned him to expect as much, of course, and Stan had thought he’d been ready, but he could tell now that he wasn’t. How could he be? He had left behind the unyielding head of the family, and had returned to a lost old man.

“Dad,” he found himself calling out, his mouth dry, and that vacant gaze paused on him. Filbrick Pines narrowed his eyes, in a way that made clear the gears in his brain were turning, if slowly. His gaze, now not so vacant anymore, shifted between him and Stanford for a few long moments, then - finally - he spoke.

“… Stanley,” he said, then paused again. “You…” he added, and frowned. Now that made him look a lot more familiar, Stan thought, and opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself from whatever accusation he was about to throw at him. If he dared bring up that damn money…!

“Listen, I–”

“You’re late for lunch.”

“… Know that last time we met you said I wouldn’t be– huh?”

Filbrick Pines nodded, as though he had heard nothing of what Stan had just said. “You are late for lunch. Isn’t he? Maureen?”

That vacant look, again. Stan heard his mother stifling a sigh before walking up to him and reaching to take his arm. “No, dear. It’s not even midday yet.”

“Oh.”

“You should sit. Sammy is going to help you to the armchair, all ri–”

“Not him. Stanley. Where’s Stanley?”

Sometimes Stan had imagined returning home without the money, of course. He’d imagined his father’s coldness, the kind that told him loud and clear with no need for words that he was a failure. He had imagined that would hurt. This was worse, because at least he could have tried to hate his old man if he still had his wits about him; now he reached for his anger and found nothing but a handful of ashes and long dead embers.

His mother turned to look at him, a mute plea in her gaze. “Stanley, dear, would you be so kind…?”

Acutely aware of everyone’s gaze on him - and the touch of Stanford’s hand on his shoulder, just for a moment - Stan forced himself to give his most convincing smile. He’d had to fake plenty in the past ten years, after all. This one was the hardest to keep up.

“Sure, ma.”

Filbrick’s favorite armchair was still exactly where it had always been, but it showed the signs of having been used a great deal more. Stan helped his father sit and stood there for a few moments, not quite knowing what to do or say. In the end, his gaze fell on the cane.

“… Hey, is that the whalebone walking stick that guy from Wisconsin tried to trade in exchange for a set of ceramic dishes with weird faces painted on them?” he asked, more to say something than because he really expected his father to remember anything. He didn’t, in fact. How would an old man with dementia remember something that had happened at least fifteen years befo–

“No. That was the mother of pearl carriage clock.”

“… Huh?”

Unaware of his stunned expression, Filbrick Pines nodded. He was looking at the wall behind him, his eyes not really focusing on anything, but his voice was suddenly louder and surer than minutes before. “Yes. Mother of pearl, worth about a thousands bucks if working. Except that it did not work, because… because…”

“His kid had smashed it,” Stan finished for him, trying to ignore a sudden sense of unreality. The memory came back to him in bits and pieces, a cloudy afternoon when Stanford was still buried in his book and he’d gone downstairs to watch his father handling business. “That was why he tried to trade it for something else. He had tried to fix it with, like, tape…”

“Superglue.”

“Yes, you’re right! It was super glue and… how did you realize that again?”

“He had small burns on his fingertips. The kind the glue he tried to use leaves on skin.” Under Stan’s incredulous gaze, Filbrick Pines slowly nodded. “Yes, superglue. The clock was well worth the cane even broken, but the way he tried to lie - he said it would work again once charged, and we both knew it wouldn’t. I was–”

“Not impressed,” Stan finished for him, and caused him to blink.

“How did you guess?”

Stan ignored the question and just laughed, suddenly elated. He felt like he’d just found out an old broken clock could be made to work again, after all, if you just knew what made it work.

So we just gotta talk business? Very well. Let’s talk business.

***

There was a lot of talking during lunch because, after all, there was a lot to talk about - even taking in account the many things Stan and Ford could not tell them. Ford was glad to talk little of his research and let his brother do most of the talking, covering a great deal of his ten years away from home.

Stanley’s account wasn’t entirely honest, of course. There was no mention of prison, for one, and hardly anything about the activities that had gotten him in trouble more than once; whenever his enterprises had failed, he chalked it up to bad luck, and said nothing about having to live in his car for long stretches of time. But there were still stories to tell and, Ford had to admit, some were rather amusing - like his forty-eight hour long marriage in Vegas to a woman who, as it turned out, was only aiming to scam him out of his car.

To be entirely honest, Ford couldn’t help but think that Stan and this Marilyn actually sounded like a good match. Beside him, his mother was leaning forward, paying hardly any attention to the food, as though she couldn’t get enough of the sound of Stanley’s voice. At the moment she seemed torn between amusement and indignation at the thought anyone would try to scam her baby.

“… So she got away with the ring but hey, it was gum-machine stuff I got with a quarter. Imagine her face when she tried to sell it!” Stan was saying, causing their mother to laugh so hard she had tears streaming down her face. Stanley laughed as well, giving her a few pats on the back, then turned to glance at Ford and winked.

Watch this, he mouthed, and turned to their father - who was barely lifting his eyes from the dish in front of him, having ignored Sam’s attempts at getting him to play some kind of guessing game. “Hey, dad. Remember that chick who walked in here with a ring that turned out to be just a piece of painted tin and glass?” Stanley called out.

Filbrick Pines looked up, blinked, and frowned. “You’ll have to be more specific. Do you have any idea how many divorcees walked in with rings worth nothing?”

Stanley had used that trick a few times throughout lunch, and it had worked every single time: for a few minutes, they would get a glimpse of their father as he used to be. As long as he was talking business, he sounded incredibly normal - even recalling details from trades and sales he had made a couple of decades earlier.

“Yeah, good point,” Stanely conceded. “Say, remember that old nightstand we bought? The one with the creepy porcelain doll inside? Blue dress, one eye missing? I found it in another drawer and put it in Shermie’s cereal, remember? Made him shriek.”

“You shrieked?” Sam asked, looking up at his father with a grin and causing him to scowl.

“Thanks again for that, Stanley,” he grumbled, but everyone’s attention stayed fixed on Filbrick as he spoke again.

“Yes. Had it fixed up and sold it for… about two hundred bucks, I think.”

“Ma had a bad feeling about it, didn’t she?”

This time, Filbrick Pines rolled his eyes and glanced sideways at his wife. “Could very well be. Your mother always had a bad feeling about everything antique I ever bought or sold.”

Taken as she was by the scene, Maureen Pines forgot to even protest, and Ford felt a sudden impulse to turn and hold her tight. She had lost one of her sons ten years earlier, then Ford had across the country and her husband had begun slipping away as well; he couldn’t imagine what it had to feel like, having them all back at the same table like a family.

I should have come more often. I shouldn’t have assume that Shermie and Sam living in the same town would be enough to keep her company.

While watching her, Ford failed to realize that his father’s gaze had lost a the vacant quality it usually had - and not only when Stan was speaking to him about business. By the end of the lunch, which took the best part of the afternoon, there was nothing in his demeanor that gave any hint about his condition. Had he noticed, he’d have recognized it as one of the lucid moments he used to have until the previous year, the kind that could last for hours. It had been a while since last time he’d had one.

Instead, he only realized what was going on when the last of the dessert was gone, and Filbrick Pines stood. “I am going out.”

His wife, in the middle of telling her sons about the latest story involving her nosy neighbour - who, to be fair, was no nosier than Mrs. Pines herself - trailed off to blink at him. “Are you sure, dear? This is usually when you sleep for a couple of–”

“No. I’d rather go out.”

Shermie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Not in your housecoat, you’re not.”

“You don’t say,” his father said drily, reaching for his cane. “Do I look that far gone?”

“Honestly?” Sharmie challenged, causing Filbrick to snort.

“I’ll change and be out of the front door in ten minutes. Stanley, you’re coming with me.”

And with that he was gone, leaving his family to stare speechlessly at the doorway.

***

It wasn’t a long walk to the beach, and that was a blessing: not only because his father had to lean so heavily on the cane that from time to time Stan found himself reaching out to steady him - something he stubbornly refused to let him do - but also because it was awkwardly silent. By the time they reached the seafront, Filbrick Pines hadn’t said a word. He stayed silent for another full minute after they sat on an old wooden bench, half-rotted by years of wind and salt.

The old swing set was gone, Stan noticed, and there was a pang of something in his chest that he couldn’t quite name. Not that he had time to dwell on it for long.

“I kicked you out,” Filbrick finally spoke, his voice even, and Stan winced. He really hadn’t expected him to bring it up; until then, it had looked like he didn’t remember that part.

“Well… I guess–”

“That was not a question,” he cut him off. He kept staring at the sea, the setting sun reflecting on the shades that were now back on his face. His hands were folded on the handle of the cane. “How long ago was that?”

“… A little over ten years.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, and for a few moments it seemed that would be all he had to say on the matter. It was not. “I had thought you’d be back in a few weeks, once you learned a lesson.”

“Yeah, Stanford told me. Look, about… about all the millions I costed us–” Stan began, but his father lifted a hand to shut him up, and he fell silent.

“Millions that would have done absolutely nothing to keep my brain from rotting.”

“Hey now, it’s not so bad– ouch!” he yelped then Filbrick Pines used his cane to whack him on his arm. “What was that about?”

“Don’t patronize me, Stanley.  I only ever speak one way, don’t I?”

“Very frankly,” Stan found himself saying, his voice like old paper, and his father nodded, hands folded on top of the cane. Its planted itself in the sand once again.

“Exactly. You take more after your mother on this aspect, so if you can’t speak frankly even now, don’t speak at all and let me do the talking. My brain is rotting, whatever fancy medical term you want to use to say it, and I don’t have many lucid moments like this. No telling when it might happened again or how long it will last, and I have a lot to cram into it. Talking too much was like canal root treatment before, let alone now,” he added. From anyone else, it would have sounded like a joke. Coming from him… it was hard to tell. “So. A lesson to learn. What did you learn, knucklehead?”

He’s too strong. I couldn’t even land a punch or–

So throw another. Isn’t that how a fight works? You don’t stop hitting just because the first punch wasn’t enough. You keep going until you’re on the ground or they are.

“… When life hits you, you punch it in the face twice as hard,” Stan found himself saying, then turned to his father. “Not something about responsibility, if that was what you wanted, but it’s still something. Punch life back. I kinda dreamed of punching you in the face, too. Several times.”

“And you’re not going to?”

“No.”

“Would you, if I were any less pathetic?”

“You’re not–” Stan began, only to trail off when his father lifted the cane again, just slightly.

Don’t patronize me, that single gesture told him. Don’t you dare.

Stan thought back of when he had seen him in Stanford’s memories, the vicious satisfaction he had felt upon socking him in the jaw. If he tried now, said jaw would probably shatter. “You bet I would,” he finally said, his voice akin to a snarl, and to his utter surprise Filbrick Pines laughed. It was brief and sounded all the world like an instrument that hadn’t been used in a long, long time, but a laugh it was.

“Hah! Well. Speaking frankly, aren’t you? About time,” he said, and tapped his cane a couple of times against a rock half-buried in the sand. “Good. You knew I would have taken you back in if you returned groveling, don’t you? If anything for your mother’s peace of mind.”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t come back.”

“Wasn’t gonna grovel.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Stubborn as a mule and too proud to return empty-handed. I should have known you wouldn’t have come back,” he said, and turned to look at him. Stan found himself looking at his own reflection in the shades. “I wouldn’t have, either.”

Stan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Years ago, that would have gained him a sharp command to close his mouth before birds began nesting in it; now his father just looked away, back at the sunset. They stayed silent for a full couple of minutes.

“Do you want an apology?” Filbrick finally asked.

Did he? He wasn’t sure. There had been daydreaming of coming back home filthy rich, making him rue the day he had turned his back on him. When he imagined that, there were plenty of apologies. He had imagined they would be satisfying to hear. But in his fantasies, his father was as he remembered him: standing tall and unmovable as a rock, not an old man with dementia. Did he really need - did he really want - an apology now?

“No,” Stan said, more to himself than to his father. “No. I’ve got no use for apologies,” he added, then, “You were wrong.”

You were wrong to kick me out. You were wrong about me. Wrong. Deny it all you want, but–

Filbrick Pines nodded. “Yes.”

“… Wait. What?”

“You’re not deaf, I hope? I said yes. I was wrong.”

Stan blinked. “… Okay. Yeah. Your brain is rotting.”

“Glad you’ve caught on,” his father replied, no hint of humor in his voice. There was another minute of silence, then he sighed and stood, leaning heavily on the cane. “Well. Was that all you needed to hear?”

Yes. No. I have no idea.

“I guess,” he found himself saying instead, and stood as well, holding out his arm to steady his father. “Let’s go home.”

Filbrick shook his head and shrugged his arm off. “A drink first.”

“What?”

“Get your ears checked. I said I want a drink first. Come morning I’ll be babbling nonsense again and drinking warm milk. May as well use this chance while it lasts. Hell knows if and when there will be another.”

“But mom says you shouldn’t drink.”

Before his incredulous gaze, Filbrick Pines laughed for the second time in the space of maybe ten minutes. “But mom says,” he parroted him.

Parroted him. His father. Was. Parroting. Him.

Oh, what the hell - let the old man have what he wanted. They could share at least one drink. Last time they had seen each other, Stan wasn’t even old enough to do it legally.

“Okay. You know what? Fine. We’ll go and drink, but you’re paying for it,” he said, holding up his arm to help his father walk on the sand. This time, he let him help.

“Fair enough.”

“Just one drink and we’re leaving.”

“Of course.”

It was more than one, but they did make it home to a rather baffled family after some fumbling, and Stan considered it a success. It was their first drink together, and would be the last.

So he had to make it count.

***

[Back to Chapter 13]

[On to Epilogue]

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know the wildest thing still to happen to me on this hellsite was my first experience of sexting, sans nudes, that was done in front of at least 250-500 followers because of those horny anons i had in early 2013 when i was 17. instead of being exposed to it on my phone privately with a partner at that age, it was done publicly for the internet to see lmao. i remember begging the anons to stop and “come off anon” because i was “losing followers” at the time too bc i was so insecure about my follower count lmao. and then yeah when they came off anon they were both 28 years old.

to write the responses, i just consulted cosmo mag sex pages for ideas hoping that the anons would like the options i chose. in one i detailed doing anal- a sex act i hadn’t even done yet irl- let alone every other thing i suggested in them (head, idek long, drawn out foreplay, some stupid fancy sex moves that cosmo was all like “use these moves to spice up your sex life 🔥🔥”, sex in a bath, i’m pretty sure i had some lines about tying or handcuffing them to a bed (????) etc etc etc)….

when again, i had never even done any of those above sex acts in real life. i was a naive teen who was incredibly shy in regards towards her love life because she’d “never been kissed” and had never had the “hot emo boyfriend whose in a band and is covered in tattoos” she’d always wanted, let alone even a boyfriend that she had actually fucking liked (ie clear braces boy, for like a month in year 9/2010 vs the popular boys that made fun of her, that she always had unrequited crushes on)…. hell, my blog title when i first started on here in 2011 was “the perfect epitome of being forever alone” because of these very reasons. but here she was, writing explicit sex acts to strangers like she knew what the fuck she was doing, to an audience of 250-500 people- and then to fucking grown ass men in inboxes. i was just parroting the shit i’d read in cosmo (both sex advice and sometimes excerpts of erotica/“sexy, steamy reads” they had some months) and also heard repeatedly in the porn that my high school stalker/creeper at public school loved to show (harass) me with to flirt with me, whenever we were alone together at school in 2012/2013.

like you could tell how naive i was….. because i used ridiculous lines like “like a gentleman entranced, you lead me to the bath for our next foray” and dumbass prose-y things like that. because what the fuck does that even mean 😂😅????

and this is why i think minors should be careful with their online experiences. like yeah, you could say that i wasn’t a minor anymore- more of a “young adult”- who should of made the smart decision to not engage with these anons. but i was a kid. i thought it was fun. and when the dudes came off anon, i thought to myself “it’s not like i’m ever gonna meet them if i ever go to the US or puerto rico at any point. it’s not like that they’ll ever recognise me in person or ever reach out to me again in the future. i might as well do it.” and i did eventually end up ignoring the guys in my inbox, due to my mental health kinda plummeting from the middle til the end of 2013 because of my end of high school exams and stuff… and also the puerto rican guy’s infamously inappropriate “hot PE teacher fucks HOT female high school student in the girls change room showers” fantasy which fucking disgusted me, when he full well knew that i was STILL IN high school.

and obviously again, there’s the point about using the “block” button function. but as i’ve stated several times over my years on here, back in my early days of tumblr, i never wanted to block or unfollow people (even if they were trash like these two men), because it seemed so “mean” and “final”. obvs now i have no qualms about blocking people, and actively encourage younger people on here to use the block button with reckless abandon towards creepy people or people who can hurt them in some way. but to high school teenage me, the whole “using the block button” thing seemed to go against me being a “nice girl/person” so i never used it, no matter which social media platform i was on.

this is why i’m hella scared for young teen girls on tik tok wanting to have onlyfans accounts: because it’s where they’ll be exposed to ACTUAL CREEPS AND PREDATORS incredibly quickly; all because they can make money off selling images of just their feet or eventually their body….. depending on what these creepy strangers demand from them….. and they’ll feel like they’ll have to do it…. but to do it before you even start experimenting properly with relationships and sex is even worse. like. yeah. i’ve admitted before that i originally started this tumblr to possibly post nudes, to see if i’d get the positive feedback that i so desperately wanted/craved from the boys in my year at catholic school- eg. to be called “sexy”, “hot”, “fuckable” possibly “beautiful”- like some of the so called “popular girls” got on their hella basic bikini photos back then (like i remember one girl i knew ended up with like 500 likes and a fair amount of comments on one of her bikini pics and i was INCREDIBLY BITTER because not even a pic of me with a nice outfit on, my hair done and makeup on could EVER get those numbers, let alone even break over the double digits).

but i decided posting nudes or other explicit images on here was an absolute no go, because i realised that i never wanted people that i knew digging up barely clothed/naked pics of me and sending them to me all like “hey, is this you?” and then possibly mocking me, all because i would’ve been dumb enough to put my face in them probably at the time. now when i take nudes and send them, i never show my face. because i know now, that even in relationships, your partner can use nude pics as leverage for arguments or to abuse you in such a way that they’ll upload your pics without your knowledge to god knows where on the internet probably as a way to get back at you in a horrible breakup.

this is what i sincerely hope some young girls who ever contemplate starting onlyfans accounts take some time SERIOUSLY CONSIDER. please know that if you share shit on onlyfans, it can shared and re-shared (i think idek how OF works tbh) to god knows who- and eventually end up in the hands of people you know. i don’t fucking care if it’s a “good way to make money!” or if people think that im trying to stop teen girls from being “girl bosses” and the other dumb as fuck internet memes you want to throw at me. because this shit isn’t “haha internet meme funny” material. it’s some fucking serious stuff. and also, i’m not saying “don’t become a sex worker when you’re older” or whatever either. you’re free to make that choice when you’re in your 20s (no i even mean 17-19 year olds in this post as “young teen girls”- sorry you’re basically kids to me at almost 26). just please consider where the fuck your stuff can be shared to. who it can end up being shared with or to.

this is why i was so fucking adamant with my infamous old follower mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF that i personally would NOT consider becoming a camgirl for him or just generally… because i had no idea where the fuck my images or videos would end up. and do you know the places i’d never want them to fucking be??? in the hands of my high school stalker/creeper. in the hands of those two 28yo men from 2013 (who’d now be in there late 30s or early 40s). i absolutely don’t want them in the hands the mid-to-late 20s and early 30s men that that girl i met at public school in 2012 who was pissed that i didn’t believe that were “adults” because we were finally over the legal age of consent (16) in our state of australia, and so we were apparently fine to “fuck” literal grown ass men because “just fuck them and they’ll be nice to you!!” which i knew was fucking bullshit.

i absolutely don’t fucking want explicit videos/images of me ending up in “why the fuck won’t you let me give you “sex lessons” in the back of my car as a “favour” and as payment for teaching you how to drive you stupid, stuck up & frigid, virgin bitch!?” guy’s hands from 2014 (when i was 18/19 at the time and he was 25… he ended up being the first person of many i’d EVER block on social media lol). or i don't want them in the hands of those weird early 20s dudes (one of which was trying to set me up with his friend) who hit on me at 16/17 (2012) who were angry that i didn’t like and watch porn as much as they did…. and who promptly asked me at the end of their period of harassing of me: “do you know any sluts we could add?” because i kept refusing their suggestions etc.

hell, quite frankly i don’t even want them to go to mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF either, but the very few and far between nudes that i sent on snapchat to him back in 2016 are some nudes that i’d rather forget lmao. hell. i don’t even know if MAF ever deleted my nudes or shared them somewhere else or not, after he fucking wheedled them out of me with “i’ve followed you for 4 years, don’t be a shit! you owe me nudes!” so he’d just shut the fuck up about my social life decisions and leave me the fuck alone.

i don’t want ANY ONE of the guys i mentioned above to get their hands on photos of minors either…. because i definitely know my hs stalker/creeper would… because his fave “make her jealous” tactic that he’s always used on me is that “hey…. i’m dating a *insert teenage girl’s age here*! be fucking jealous that you don’t fucking have me and feel guilty that you won’t fuck me like this girl does!!!” just like he did in 2015, when i ran into him on the home from uni… when i turned 20 the next week and he turned 20 that december. at that time it was a 14yo girl he used as an example of him “dating”/“fucking” to make me jealous. instead, i was completely and utterly fucking disgusted. like any fucking sane and normal human being would/should be at that horrible age gap. that is literally a fucking child that he was fucking grooming. and we were literal adults. back the fuck away.

just please. PLEASE CONSIDER the types of people that trawl these kinds of sites and their intentions. please consider that you are young. very fucking young. you literally DO NOT need to upload nudes to the internet because it’s apparently a “lucrative” business. fuck the jokey “boss babe” rhetoric around it all the way to fucking hell.

because if you’re a minor: i do not want you to have your first experience of sexting or sending explicit images literally in front of god knows how many total strangers for the whole world to see (okay i know only fans is like subscriber/follower based or whatever. but i don’t care)…… even when you (depending how good you are with relationships etc) haven’t reached the common supposed milestones of your “first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner” or “first kiss” or have even “lost your virginity” (which isn’t real anyway- don’t buy this fucking bullshit)…. just like i stupidly did with my exposure to sexting here on my tumblr back in 2013. these people don’t/won’t give a flying fuck about your privacy or safety. they don’t/won’t give a fuck about your boundaries either.

please don’t possibly scar yourself for life, just because you’re being told that it’s a quick & convenient way to make some money for weirdos on the depths of the internet. you will regret it in future. just like i do now with mine. it should’ve been something personal between me and and a guy i trusted and liked at the time. not to some random 250-500 random strangers on this hellsite (okay the notes on these posts were literally single digits or non-existent, but still… and also some of my irl friends who had tumblr saw these posts as well) for a show….. and then privately with two 28yo literal grown ass men…. who should’ve been fucking hitting on women their own goddamned age and in their own countries and NOT a 17yo high school KID (at the time) from australia; who, now in her 20s, needs therapy to sort this shit out lmao. mind you they both reeled me in with the “you’re so mature for your age” bullshit line…. which i fell for a little bit, even if it did make me feel kinda gross at the time, too. don’t fall for that bullshit either.