#and this pasty white ass baby is his SON

[crowbury]

This girl just can't seem to catch a break.

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Return

((an au of an au with @criminarchy))

This: the song of sons and daughters Hide the heart of who we are Making peace to build our future Strong, united, working 'till we fall

Chrona swallowed hard as her eyes opened, Mimi’s old alarm clock trilling out the time.

Five forty five in the morning. The time she’d wake up to pack lunches for the younger siblings during gradeschool. The time on Saturdays she’d wake up to start french toast. A sound too familiar to give up.

So Chrona took on a role left behind when they called Mimi and Quickdraw away.

She still remembered the letters. Official and heavy, held in Perceptor and Whirl’s shaking hands as Mimi packed her bags and quietly advised Quickdraw.

The unhealthy tinge her older brother’s face had taken on before bolting to the bathroom to be sick. The deadness in Mimi’s green eyes as Perceptor propped a mourning Whirl up in silence.

Chrona sniffed hard, willing herself not to cry when she remembered saying goodbye. Quickdraw ruffling her hair and warning her not to cause any trouble. Mimi gathering the remaining to her in a tight hug and with a promise they’d come home.

Chrona’s back had begun getting sore from these mornings. 

But she trudged out, messily fixing her braid as she yawned wide and wondered if she’d stashed any energy drinks in the back of the fridge. She grunted at the figures she passed on the couch- seeing only the glimpse of a patch and a messy mop before she stopped in the doorway of the kitchen.

Whirl and Perceptor weren’t home.

They’d had overnight shifts, she was fairly certain.

She turned slowly, bare feet making no sound on the edge of the carpeted living room-dining room combination and covered her mouth before she could scream. 

Quickdraw yawned in his sleep, chin resting on his chest as bandages poked out from under a patch over one eye. Mimi lounged against him, snoring grandly with one leg out and one foot on the floor. Pantlegs tied to show newer prosthetics and a new tattoo on an exposed arm.

Quickdraw groaned and stretched, opening one gold-coin eye and nudging Mimi before his spoke, a serpentine rasp to the words.

“Oi, sis. C’mon. I think I hear your alarm ‘n shit.”

“Hmf. Hwa?”, was the half-awake answer, “Mm. Right, french toast day. help me oil my knees and I’ll start it up, you damn chowvoid.”

“QD?”, said Chrona weakly, her hand dropping to hold tight to the end of her braid, “Mimi? Are... is this one of those dreams again?”

They both jerked awake now, and looked at her. Quickdraw couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him, and giving his old goofy smile- even if it looked more tired than normal.

A whine of mechanical parts as Mimi got to her feet and walked quickly over to Chrona- immediately beginning to fuss, “Kiddo, have you been using conditioner in that hair of yours? The right one? You know mine makes your hair all limp and raggedy-”

And then the tears came, and just wouldn’t stop. Chrona was two again, three again, wrapping her arms around Mimi and wailing her sorrows to the morning as Mimi cursed under her breath and went down with the weak-kneed Chrona’s crystorm. Quickdraws lumbering morning gait brought him close enough to kneel down with them as Chrona buried her face in his chest and shrieked for her parents.

Drift came first, armed and already aloof before stumbling against the wall as Mimi waved a hand dismissively at him to relax. She smoothed her hand over Chrona’s hair, kissing the top of her sister’s head and wrapping her into a hug as she sniffed loudly with watering green eyes. The den came to life, the figures of Ratchet and Perceptor stumbling in- Perceptor’s labcoat rumpled from sleeping where he shouldn’t and Ratchet half-ready for a hospital shift. Cyclonus was last, phone already in hand as he spoke in hushed tones.

They’re home.

They came back.

They’re safe.

Dani and Kickback, rubbing eyes and yawning wide, stumbled from their shared room before lighting up in tired joy as they saw Mimi and Quickdraw, running at them full force to leap into the puddled pile of tears and welcome backs.

Mimi carefully untangled herself, straightening the half-baked pieces of old uniform before smiling through her own sniffles.

“Who wants french toast, huh?”

Quickdraw stood, easily lifting Chrona like he had so many times when she was small and carrying her on a hip as she clung with clawed hands- no intent to let him go until she saw fit.

“Sounds good after what we’ve been eating.”, he laughed- before he was immediately bowled over by a wailing flash of messy white hair and baby blue pajamas.

“YOU CAME HOME OH THANK GOD I’VE BEEN SO SCARED ARE YOU OKAY WHAT DID THEY DO- OH SWEET GOD YOUR EYE HONEY WHAT-”

Quickdraw wheezed, quietly being crushed beneath his sister and Brainstorm before he could speak, “It was just a freak accident, Papastorm, no worries. I’ll be fine in a few weeks. Now c’mon, I gotta help Mimi with breakfast- she still can’t reach the plates in the cabinet-”

“I HEARD THAT, BEANPOLE.”

“...See?”

A splutter of thick-voiced laughter from Chrona as Perceptor seemed to float into the kitchen, only to collapse on Mimi with a single sob and squeeze her in a hug so tight it made her cough. Drift could only stare, blinking the tears out of his eyes as she returned Perceptor’s embrace, lifting him off the floor a few inches. Ratchet sat, dumbfounded but happy, at the dining room table and dazedly directed Dani and Kickback to find their seats as the smell of cinnamon soon bloomed into the air.

And then, Whirl came home. He had sped the whole way back, white knuckled and teeth gritted, and nearly shouldered the door off it’s hinges to find Cyclonus proudly smiling on the other side- the old warrior nodded at the slowly noisier kitchen and Whirl took heavy steps; afraid of what he would find.

He’d been told they were alright. he’d been told they were safe. But the shrewd and cynical part of him he’d never really gotten rid of warned him about the last time he’d been hopeful.

“DAD”, shrieked Chrona, “DAD THEY’RE HOME!”

Mimi waved, one hand wrapped in a towel to hold the frying pan’s handle as she fried eggs to match the tower of french toast. Dani and Kickback bounced excitedly in their seats, talking to-

Quickdraw.

QD looked up at Whirl, and smiled weakly, touching the patch over his eye. The patch that mirrored Whirl’s.

“It’s not permanent. Just until the stitches heal and I get get a vision test. Got me sent home permanently though. Mimi lost her other leg and then they just decided we’d both done enough. Longest six years of our lives though.”

“Peacekeeping my pasty pale ass though.”, griped Mimi as Dani slunk away from the table to stand by her sister and bounce on her tiptoes for a taste of the bacon and sausage already done and set aside, “We heard more damn explosions than the time Papastorm hid fireworks in Si-Si’s lab storage as a prank.”

Whirl nodded, silent and staring. Quickdraw, worried, rose from his seat and slowly approached his father with confusion on his face. Whirl looked down, seeing his son draped in old uniform scraps and boots Whirl himself once used to wear.

“Dad?”

Whirl hiccuped. He coughed softly, and hiccuped again. Then his arms went around Quickdraw’s shoulders and Whirl buried his face against his son’s neck-

And began to sob.

“I-I-I. I didn’t th-think-”

Quickdraw nestled into his father’s hold, and simply nodded.

“I know, pops. I know.”

[shimmershaewrites]

Random bits and lines from Caryl fics that could have been.  Still maybe could be, if I ever get rid of this big ball of hurt and disappointment in the pit of my belly.

1.   

 Merle's all hyped up when he busts through the trailer door.  Dumps the six pack in his arms on the lumpy sofa and just grins at him. 

 It's not the coat hanger grin Daryl's so used to suffering when his brother's at his most obnoxious or the manic baring of teeth that usually accompanies one of his drug-fueled spirals.  No.  This one's full of...wonder?  "Hell's wrong with you?"

 "Ask me what I just saw off Mile Marker 73.  Go 'head.  Ask me," he all but begs, bending down to free a beer from its plastic necklace.  Liberates another one and tosses it at him with no warning. 

 Daryl grunts.  Rubs at the sore spot on his chest through the sweat-dampened cotton of his wife-beater.  Scowls at the asshole as he pops the tab.  Shit ain't even cold.  It's lukewarm at best and goddammit do they need a better place.  A place with a working air conditioning unit and a couch that doesn't try to probe him in the ass every time he has a lapse in judgment and sits down in it. To be honest, he could really care less what Merle saw and he tells him so.  Plain to his face.  "Fuck do I care?"  His brother cares even less that he doesn't care, though.  Just blurts it all out like Daryl didn't even say nothing. 

 "Just saw Julia Fucking Roberts with a baby hanging off her tit.  Right there on the side of the road." 

 Daryl scoffs into his beer.  Looks up and peers into his brother's eyes, his earlier assumptions in doubt.  They're bright and his pupils are normal, but still.  "You high?"

 "That any kind of question to ask your big brother?"

 "Merle!" Daryl barks. 

 2. 

  "Tomorrow isn't a promise, Daryl.  It's a wish.  A dream.  And those?  They don't always come true." 

  3. 

  "Been watching tv with your ball busting daughter.  Kid's 14 going on 40." 

  4. 

  He hesitates again and her fingers curl into her palm.  Press until she can feel the little crescent moons branded on her skin.  She tries to bite her tongue--she really does--but the part of her that came roaring back to painful life seeing him there on her doorstep the first time, so much loss mixed with longing in his blue eyes, it rushes headlong into salvation or Hell.  She doesn't know which.  She can't say she even cares anymore. 

    5. 

  He’s got her panties stripped down to her ankles, her tee shirt shoved up around her neck, and his greedy mouth mapping out each rib beneath her satin skin, two fingers buried knuckle deep when the bedroom door opens without warning, and it’s every parent’s nightmare; not that he

is

a parent, but Carol is, and she does what he figures any rational, self-respecting parent would do in this particular panicked situation:  she shoves his head further down her body and yanks the comforter they’d kicked to the foot of the bed during their

extracurricular

activities over his bare ass all the way up to her chin, calls out her little girl’s name in a voice that’s a little higher pitched than normal but welcoming all the same.  “Sophia.” 

  6.  

    Kid’s eyes get bigger with each swirl of the butter knife through the bowl of chocolate icing and Daryl don’t blame her one bit because it’s the good stuff.  Thick and rich, enough cocoa in it to jumpstart a dead man’s heart, and

damn

.   7. 

  Daryl eats his fill of pasta.  Soaks it all up with a little too much wine because the company’s good but he ain’t used to the talking no more or the carefree laughs.  The shared looks between the two men are too much.  Too happy in the middle of this hell on earth, too intimate, and eventually, well.  It starts to get to him—being the third wheel. 

  Aaron doesn’t even seem surprised when he pushes back from the table and mumbles his goodbyes. 

  He sees himself out.  Stumbles just the slightest bit on the next to last step before he grabs the railing, looks up at the Virginia moon so big and so bright and lets the crisp night air wash over his flushed cheeks while he gathers his thoughts and his equilibrium. 

  8. 

 Really not sure if I posted this one or not.  Anyway, it's an unfinished challenge fic, so. 

  Off your rocker

     “Draw the short end of the stick again, Son?” 

  Hitching the worn strap of his crossbow higher over the round of his shoulder, Daryl merely grunts in response.  It’s neither an affirmation nor a denial, but if the old man is bothered by it, he doesn’t let it show.  It certainly doesn’t shut him up anyway.  Ain’t much of anything can do

that,

he reckons.  Might’ve taken the retired vet a while to warm up to the whole lot of them—warm, weren’t that a nice, fine, foreign concept these days—but now that he has?  He hasn’t looked back.   

  Unperturbed, Hershel steers the one-sided conversation forward in his rambling drawl.  “While I appreciate the continued pleasure of your company, I’m perfectly capable of handling such delicate matters on my own.” 

  Daryl snorts. Ain’t nothing delicate ‘bout these trips just beyond the tree line and they both know it. 

Still

.  Could be worse.  Could be partnered up with Dog if he hadn’t developed a predilection for playing nanny to that little shit Carl in the misguided notion that he was going to keep the boy out of trouble.  You ask him, the kid’s middle name started with a big ass T.  “Ain’t my rule.  Rick’s.  Think I wanna…” 

  “Play babysitter to an old man?” 

  Daryl huffs.  “Now you’re just puttin’ words in my mouth.”  Briefly glancing back, he shakes his head.  “Y’ain’t old.”  Without missing a beat, he mutters a clarification, one corner of his mouth turning up so slightly even

he

wasn’t sure if it was a smile or not.  “You’re ancient.  Bit of a difference.” 

  Far from being offended, Hershel chuckles.  “That so?”

  With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Daryl nods.  “Way I see it, you got experience.” 

  “Experience?”

  “Life experience.  Lots of it.  Them assholes back at camp?  Don’t have much if they have any.  Least not the kind that’s going to help them survive in this world.  You do.”  He might lack in table-taught manners—he’s a Dixon, after all—but he’s got common sense in spades, and he don’t ever say something he don’t mean.  Following in his wake, the old man falls uncharacteristically silent, likely digesting his words.  It ain’t often Daryl doles out words of praise and they both know it. 

  Nearing a fallen log, Hershel slows.  “Here.” 

  Scanning their immediate surroundings for any hint of unwanted company and finding none, Daryl looks up and squints into the pale Winter sun.  With much of their food source in hibernation or holed up in whatever bit of shelter to found, the dead were decaying and sluggish in this dick-shrinking cold. 

Still

.  “Here?” 

  “Here.” 

  “Alright.  Good a place as any.”  Putting his back to the nearest tree and averting his narrowed gaze, he shoulders his crossbow and tries not to cringe at the telltale clink of the old man’s belt.  Ain’t no such thing as privacy anymore and it’s a damn shame because he can think of a hundred and one other things he’d rather be doing right about now.  Like hunting.  Too bad the only squirrel he sees, skittering from tree to spindly tree, is too scrawny to be worth the effort.  Knowing Carol, she’d probably fork it over to the little parasite taking up residence in Lori’s womb anyway.  Thoughts of the woman’s foolish disregard for her own well-being over others make him shake his head to himself.  He wonders would it have been different.  If he had walked out of those woods with her little girl, would she treat herself with as much care as strangers not even worth half her salt?  He’s pulled from that line of thinking by the old man’s nonchalant request. 

  “Mind handing me some of them leaves over there, Son?” 

  Carefully avoiding any eye contact, Daryl doesn’t draw out the task.  That would only make the situation even more embarrassing.  He hands over the leaves and straightens, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he delves beneath the cover of his poncho for a pack of cigarettes he knows isn’t there.  Smokes might not be a necessity for survival, but fuck if he don’t miss them. 

Damn

meddling

woman

, he thinks, peering through the trees at the way they’d come, barely able to make out Beth and the woman in question.  Course, the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.  Old man’s smart enough not to poke a stick at a bear, though.  Least Daryl thinks he is, ‘til he hears what comes out of his mouth next and nearly swallows his own tongue because of it. 

  “Girl’s sweet on you.” 

  He says it like they’re two coworkers enjoying a smoke break.  Not two would-be strangers doing what they’re…doing and hackles raised, Daryl sputters.  Because it’s easier to spit outrage at an unmade accusation than admit a truth that’s too close for comfort.  He might not be well-versed in the ways of women, but like he’d once told Andrea, he’s observant and Carol’s got a soft way ‘bout her anyhow.  Been more than once the look in her pretty blue eyes made him ache for something he ain’t never had.  “The hell.  Ain’t into kids.” 

  “Good to know,” Hershel says conversationally.  “Wasn’t talking about my daughter, Son.  Neither one of them.  But we both know

that

.  Besides.  You walk this earth long enough, anybody younger than you becomes a kid.”    

  Daryl lifts his thumbnail to his mouth and gnaws, piercing the abused skin with blunt teeth.  “Off your rocker, Old Man.”  The quip he gets in return is quick and expected. 

  “Comes with the territory of being ancient, I imagine.” 

  “Man, you got your pasty white ass hangin’ out in the wind and you wanna gossip?”  Flustered as he is, he keeps his voice low, his agitated footfall just as quiet as he whirls around to jab his finger right beneath the old man’s nose.  He hasn’t made it this far being a dumbass.  “You don’t know nothin’.” 

  Taking a moment to rezip his fly and wipe his hands on a rag, Hershel calmly stands to his full height and looks down at him.  He doesn’t bother to hide his smirk when he uses Daryl’s own words against him or the knowing twinkle in his eyes.  “Said it yourself, Son.  I’m old

and

experienced.  Been around the block a time or two.  Might even say I’ve picked up a few things.  I stand by my word.  That girl’s sweet on you.  Judging from your reaction?  The feeling’s mutual.”  Parting shot fired, he walks away. 

  It takes Daryl but a few seconds to match his easy, deliberate stride.  “Naw. 

Naw

.  The hell you think you’re goin’?” 

      9.    

“We really doing this silent treatment shit?” Daryl grumbled.  Carol’d been giving him the cold shoulder for the better part of the evening, and fuck if he knew why exactly.  Sure, he might have gotten them (just a little) lost—playing cross country navigator in his brother’s borrowed truck wasn’t exactly the same as tracking a buck in the Georgia woods.  And wasn’t she, as a Lit-loving nerd, always preaching that the best roads weren’t always the most traveled ones anyway?  No.  He was reasonably sure the hundred-mile detour from their actual destination point wasn’t the cause of her black mood, and that led him back to square one.  “S’not my fault they only had one room.” 

  She didn’t bother answering him.  She just huffed and marched across the room, heaving her overstuffed duffel bag on top of the dingy bed and starting to dig through it like it held the secrets of the fuckin’ universe. 

  He

wished

because he was floundering.  Some last hurrah this was turning out to be.  Stuck in Bumfuck, Nowheresville in this Bates Motel wannabe with a best friend who’d sooner rip his nuts off than utter a civil word.  Tired and working against developing a foul mood of his own, he tossed his own pack to the foot of the mattress and sighed.  “Got a beer in there?” 

  Carol only paused long enough to roll her eyes at him and glare. 

  “Guessing not,” he muttered.  “Shit.”  When her only reaction was to continue to freeze him out, he sighed again, even deeper than the last time, and dropped to the hard, lumpy mattress.  If she thought he was going to be all chivalrous and shit and offer to sleep on the floor, she had another thing coming.  The carpet was filthy, half the stains defying categorization.  Besides.  Weren’t like they hadn’t shared a bed before.  Course, all those times had predated puberty, but still.  “Sorry, alright?”  She softened for about a second before he unwisely tried to choke himself with his own foot in a dick, Dixon move.  “

Jesus

.  What crawled up your ass?”    10.     Carol hadn’t taken much with her when she’d packed up and left home.  Ed hadn’t allowed it.  Hindsight being 20/20 and all, she should have dug her heels in and demanded an annulment right then, right there.  But she hadn’t.  She’d been numb.  Mired in the fog of a broken heart.  She let her new husband drag her clear across the state of Georgia, hundreds of miles from her mama, her friends,

Daryl

, and she hadn’t said a blessed word.  Didn’t utter a word of protest ‘til her baby girl was born and it became clear that she had fallen

head over heels, hopelessly

in love for the second time in her life, and by then it was too late. 

Story

of

her

life

, she thought, recalling Daryl’s frozen, unreadable expression in

Mary’s

, Jessie’s awkward split-lip smile as the children were formally introduced to each other.  Nanny Sarah always

did

tell her she’d be late to her own funeral. 

[francisfvckcff]

triggers: referenced transphobia, abuse, attempted sexual violence

The Typical Basics

What is your real, birth name? Any nicknames?

What the fuck kind of question is that? No, no nicknames. And Francis. Francis Fehler. You’re not getting me to say it, I’m not deadnaming myself for your dumb ass.

When and where were you born?

Fort Gibson, the oldest town in Oklahoma. Born there on June 23rd, 1998 at two somethin’ in the A.M.

What is your ethnicity (their racial/cultural group) and nationality (what country were they born in)?

I dunno. Some shade of white, I don’t really keep too connected to my parents, they have all of that information. If they do. If not, well. Either way I’m shit out of luck. I’m American born.

What is your Myers-Briggs Personality Type? (If you don’t know go here, this question is optional.)

ENTP-A, The Debater.

What do you look like? (Include height, weight, hair, eyes, skin, apparent age, and distinguishing features)

I’m nineteen, five foot seven, Dunno what I weigh, probably one-thirty, one-fifty. Brown hair, brown eyes, curls when it gets long enough. Pale but not pasty. Got a few birthmarks, moles or whatever. And gauges.

In your opinion, what is your best feature?

My acidit wit.

Familial Questions

What is/was your family structure like? (i.e. are you adopted, how many siblings, pets, etc.)

I had a dog, name was Rusty. And an outside cat that my dad tried to shoot once. Her name was Oscar. Um. I had two older brothers, and both parents.

Who was your father, and what was he like? Who was your mother, and what was she like? What was your parents marriage like? Were they married? Did they remain married?

My dad’s first love was Yuengling. And his second love was the NRA. I think the only thing after my mom on his list was me. My mother was a trailer park kid who wanted to be a Stepford wife when she grew up. And I guess the only thing in the way of that was me. Not the drunk husband or abusive son or anything. They’re still married, far as I know. Don’t think they’ve got anything better lined up yet.

Do you have any siblings? If so, what are/were your siblings names? What are/were they like?

My oldest brother was named Scott, and the middle brother’s Boone. Last time I saw Scott he was using performance enhancers trying to get to college ‘cause he couldn’t do it with his brain, and his girl was goin’ all the way up to Ohio State. Boone’s just an asshole. He’s gonna be a pastor or a politician, and we won’t know either way until he fucks some dude in a bathroom.

Who are your closest friend(s)? Describe them and how you relate to them. If not, do you wish you did? Is there anyone you wish they could build such a relationship with?

Um. I mean, obviously Stuart, Gemma, Manny, Rosa. The circus gang as a whole, they’re family. Way more family than mine ever was. And I’m grateful for that. They’re all a guy could need.

What is your relationship status? If you’re not single, who are you with? Describe them and how you two met and what your relationship is like with them? If you have a crush, feel free to describe them as well.

I’m single. Um… Yeah. Nothing to report.

What Is Your Opinion On…

Rant about that’s eating you up.

Okay. Free pass. I’ll take it.

Some dumb fucker on the bus this morning asked me why I was so fuckin’ short. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly Shaq, but I’m lookin’ around and there are guys all over the damn place out there looking like honest to god beer cans, so I look at him and ask, you know, “Is there some kind of a problem here? It’s not like I’m even the shortest guy here, what’d I take your seat or somethin’?” And don’t get me wrong, in retrospect - you know, hindsight is 20/20 - in retrospect the signs were all there, this was an older gentleman, whatever, had that look. I just wasn’t ready for it, I didn’t even have my coffee yet this mornin’. He asks me again, I ask again why it matters, he says it just does. So I just make some shit up about not getting my protein, who fuckin’ cares, it ain’t even seven in the morning yet, and what does this ugly fucker say to me?

“I bet I could help you with that.”

Fuckin’ unbelievable.

What would/would’ve make you drop college/university?

Finding something better.

Are humans better at creation or destruction?

I don’t think there’s any one way people are better at than the other. There are all types, and we never really move in one direction or the other. Just try to fix shit and fail. So both. We fuck ourselves over, see?

If you could sum up humans in 3 words, what would they be?

Messy irritating fucksticks.

Are some lives more valuable than others?

I’m supposed to say no, right? Because yeah. Of course there are lives more valuable than others. If you had to run into a burning building, and you could go in two doors, alright? Behind one door is a baby, behind the other is some dude who killed five babies. You can only save one before the building collapses, you’re gonna save the baby. Because you’re not an idiot. So yeah, of course they do.

Do you believe there is good in everybody?

I believe there’s good in everybody to start. I do think some people burn it all out of themselves though.

Would you ever turn on someone you just met in order to save themselves?

Remember the baby killer? Could be that guy. I don’t know. So yeah, I’d leave them to fend for themselves. If the universe takes ‘em instead of me, that’s on the universe.

Which of the seven deadly sins do you most embody?

Probably wrath. I have a little bit of a temper.

If you were omnipotent for just one day, what change would you make in the world?

I’d hopefully make it at least a little bit less shitty. I dunno. If I could snap my fingers and make people less stupid, I guess that. Help us all out for the longrun.

Tapping Into The Psyche

What is your biggest fear and why?

Abandonment. I’ve got a whole family’s worth of daddy issues. Manifesting in daddy, mommy, and bro-y issues.

What makes you really angry? Be honest.

… Everything? A lot? Stupid people?

What is something unforgivable that could destroy a relationship?

Misgendering me to my face is a once in a lifetime experience.

What’s one experience you had that made you very afraid?

I got caught in the wrong place. Had a smoke at the wrong time. Thought things were going to be fun, thought I was having a good time making jokes with this guy. He asked some weird questions, I gave some weird answers, thirty minutes down the line, Rosa was the Incredible Hulk, he almost didn’t have a dick, and I was crying on a sidewalk corner, so. That probably tops the charts.

What does it take to make you cry?

A whole lot more than a sad song and chopped onions. You could make yourself cry easier than you could get me to.

Would society call you a good guy or a bad guy? What would you say you are?

I’d be down with either, long as society’s calling me a guy. I don’t know, though. It depends. If I like you, I’m a good guy. If I don’t, I’m probably not the best.

Have you ever committed a crime, or something you felt was wrong? What was it?

I stole deodorant once. I was in a hurry and couldn’t find the shop owner. So sorry about that, whoever was one short on deodorant next inventory. Boys are smelly.

Do you hold grudges?

With abandon.

Does you have a deep and/or dark secret? If so, what is it?

… These questions seem loaded, every now and then, you know that?

No. No deep, dark secrets. I have my secrets, and I share them when I feel like it.

Do you like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering?

No? Who wants to do either of those things? I’m just trying to make it through to the weekend, I figure everybody is.

Are you more physically or emotionally strong? Why do you believe so?

Emotionally, 'cause I haven’t found the right gym to get me on my way to the biceps of my dreams like all of the posters say.

Have you ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are you the same as you were before you lost them?

Yeah. Uncle Ty. Uh. No, probably not. I’d probably still be at home if he was there. But shit happens, right?

What do you want to be remembered for after you die?

Being fucking hilarious.

[dinoalexander]

The Semi-Quotable 2017, Part 3

... again, Thank you Tumblr... very nearly almost done.

——

"So, using the Monty Hall theorem in current event terms, behind 1 door is Kendrick Lamar, and behind the other 2 doors is Lamar Odom." -Gordon

"I hate to say I told you so, but I don't really." -Amanda

“PLATE TACO!” -Festivus party

"A favor owed is better than money in the bank." -Steve

“STRIKING A NOSE.” -Actual Wheel guess

"A Hemi is not a license to drive like you don't have any sense!" -C

“You’re going to lift this with good form because I don’t want you sitting there with a sore back while you’re face-fucking a pumpkin pie on Thursday.” -... somebody at Shannon’s gym

“I can’t spell today...” -C

“T-O-D-A-Y.” -C’s boss

“It flows like diarrhea.” -Jordan

"No picture, no puss." -drunk Asian gambler

"I traveled 3000 miles to yell numbers at strangers." -TPIR shirt

“What state’s nickname is the Badger State?” -Michael

“My nether regions.” -Christina

“... Between waxings.” -Q

“Personally...I’m a smizer. It lets my soul express it’s happiness without all that pesky wrinkling.” -Jen

“I don’t mean duck! I NEVER MEAN DUCK!” -Q

"Sorry we couldn't get Brad Rutter." -Sara

"An-taaaaaawn Jamison!" -Michelle

“Parents who have massages have children who have massages.” -Q

"GODDAMNIT, PAUL!" -C. It should be noted that no one named Paul was in the vicinity

"I feel like I'm on cocaine, I have so many ideas right now." -Amanda

“Susie, you're going to pay for my hip replacement if you knock me over again!!” -Jules (Dana’s daughter)

“You need to settle down and put your clothes back on.” -Q

“I’ve heard THAT one before.” -Jordan

“Love my beautiful comical sweet babies!!!” -... some girl

“That's my new go-to insult, ya jacknog.” -Tony

“HQ app needs to monitor their fiber intake for a while, because their shit's not together this week.” -Adam

“Pumpkin pie is mah BITCH!” -Laura

"Don't overthink it. It's trivia, not your oral defense." -Michael

“Better to be judged by 12 than carried by 6.” -Q

"It's like getting C. Diff of the mouth!" -Christina

"Gracefully disconnected." -Cat

“I had fun once. It was awful.” -Grumpy Carter (Molly’s son in a Grumpy Cat mask)

“If you don’t have PMT, you don’t have anything.” -I meant to say “PMA”

"Because this is what you do when you're 37. Dress up like Barbarella and Storm Troopers... and act like idiots on stage covered in glitter." -Shannon

"Molly, ok this is where I bow out of this thread. We all know how flexible you are. Duh." -Jenni Leigh

"Oh fuck me in the ass with a sandpaper lube." -Q

Gordon: "One, two, three..."

C/Joe/Jason: "SORRY, GORDON!"

"That came from the colon." -Steven

"PBS, 1994! I used to watch that all the time; I'm STILL looking for that bitch!" -Tiffany Haddish. The question: "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?"

“🎶 Spinarak, Spinarak, does whatever a Spinarak does... 🎶” -C & Jordan

"What's the ICD-10 code for demon possession?" -Q

“While working in TV news I was told by management I was a fat loser who should just be grateful anybody put me on camera. I once had to do an extra long traffic and weather break because the female anchor was boning the news director in the building’s gym (they were both married to other people). When all but two traffic cameras went out and I had to use them a lot in a six-hour show, I got screamed at for not using different cameras and when I pointed out there WERE no other cameras, I was screamed at again that they didn’t want to hear any excuses. I’m not saying any of this to justify shitty behavior, I’m saying TV news is a flaming hellhole of a business and most of the people in it are rotten assholes who wouldn’t be welcome in an opium den.” -Drew Harmon

"I beat Gordon, I get his property, and I claim prima nocta on his wife." -C

James: "I'm not that type of guy."

Cindy: "LIES!"

"I need something that will keep me awake and alert and fresh like a daisy. And unlike you, David Muir's come-hither stare isn't going to do it for me!" -C

"... oh shit, is it 6:30?" -Q

"Welcome to the Gordon Pepper Experience." -Gordon

“Maybe your apple crisp is trying to tell you something.” -Angela

“I don’t pay it to tell me anything! It knew what this was.” -C

"Asking me to create the state of the art Jquery menu widget for version 3.2.1 when you have version 1.10 is the equivalent of you telling me to create a program to help steer the best lawn mower of the world capable of shearing acres of land a day and you giving me a goat." -Gordon

“Sarcasm drips from your tongue like drool from a baby’s mouth.” -Ellen

“The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can't.” -Christina

"Hey Colorado Board Shorts! Can you please close your legs? We can all see your Denver Nuggets." -C

"Trump's so classy, even his showers are golden." -Jessica

“UNC is going down quicker than Blair St. Clair on a Breathalizer.” -G

"(Jon Snow) is the heir to the Iron Throne... AND THEY'RE BACK TO FUCKING." -C, on "The Dragon and the Wolf"

"Where are the TRASH people?" -Mike

"Karnowski! HE FAT!" -C, on Gonzaga's big man

"Kill it. Kill it dead." -Jordan

"I'm confused. Facebook is stupid." -Cindy

"My opinion, and you can quotewall me on this, is the following: Everyone should be treated equal, which means that the minority should never be empowered to think they are above the majority. Equal? Yes. But not greater than." -G

"How I know I'm getting old: my Facebook wall has, over time, turned from petty angry status updates to woke angry status updates, and babies." -Mama Shrub

"You didn't see the movie. You don't get to make the joke." -me, on "I'm Mary Poppins, y'all!"

"I try to remember things could be worse. I could have been born a Siamese twin about to go on a date with my gay brother....while sharing only one butt." -Leslie

"Imagine Quisla's mind is like a presidential strip club. The sign outside says "43 beautiful men and one ugly one."" -C

“... Still waiting for that cosmo.... Jordan.” -Q

"Asking Trump to denounce white supremacists is like asking a rose bush to denounce Miracle Grow." -Clint

"Sometimes the one way to respect the power of fire is to get burned." -C

"That's so deep Adele is rolling in it." - Jordan

"The only thing I've accomplished today is using my boobs to make a waterfall in the shower." -Leslie

“Glitter is the herpes of arts and crafts. It gets everywhere and you can’t get rid of it.” -Q

"We don't ask about the boxers." -C

"SPF 100... for Pasty White Ninja." -Jason

"Aren't you tired of all these bad hair days?" -Cat

"Lady, I haven't had a bad hair day since 1993!" -C

"What the rass happen ta Tiger? 'im all gon' in an' rass up, look like some criminal!" -Q

"Trump is a traitor, Bannon wants to launch the Crusades, Conway is slowly evolving into her final witch form, Spicer is about two days away from spontaneously reenacting the head-explosion scene in SCANNERS, Miller is the psychic projection of every asshole you hated in high school, and Pence calls his wife "Mother" *jazz fingers* The Aristocrats." -Jennifer

"Will whoever left their tequila shot with a lime wedge on our table please come by and retrieve their lime wedge and their shot glass?" -C

"¡Mierdoso!" -Q & Lenora

"That tastes like Tussin." -Tohry

"I'LL BE GOD DAMNED. THERE IS AN ICD-10 CODE FOR DEMON POSSESSION!" -C

"You talk about taking your pants off, and then I have to Skype you." -Jason before WLTI

"You're gonna end up touching someone inappropriately." -Q

TO BE CONCLUDED... eventually.