#google says they're still mosquito bites

[hyenaswine]

last night in belize is when i find out i'm allergic to mosquitoes

[lilacthebooklover]

NPMD Incorrect Quotes

Grace: And then they ran into my knife. They ran into my knife ten times. Steph: You mean you stabbed them? Grace: They ran into my knife.

Ruth: Are pigeons drones? Richie: What? No, I'm trying to sleep. Ruth: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES! Richie: *Crying* Please let me sleep...

Steph: Ow! Pete: What’s wrong? Steph: I have this weird pain right above my eyebrow. Pete: It’s called a stress headache. I got my first one when I was four.

Richie: I have a question. Pete: Shoot. Richie: Is the S or C in scent silent? Pete: I’m going to be thinking about this all day. Steph: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent. Richie: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way. Pete: Google says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent. Ruth: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound. Pete: Ruth is not allowed to talk anymore.

Max: You know, there’s only one person in this world who can tell you what you are. Richie: Me? Max: No. Max: Me.

Ruth: I desire moisture. Pete: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.

Steph: You know, when I first met you, I really didn’t like you. Grace, after a moment: …I thought there was going to be another half to that sentence? Steph: Nope!

Ruth: I'm an empath. When I'm around hot gay people, I start having gay thoughts.

Grace: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine! Pete: How can you still say that? Grace: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

Steph: Pete, I got suspended from school… Pete: WHAT?!?! What did you do? Steph: My teacher pointed at me with a ruler, and he said “there is an idiot at the end of this ruler”. Pete: And…? Steph: I asked which end… Pete, unable to contain his laughter: Okay, you just made my day.

Kyle: Can I have some water? Max: *starts chugging his water bottle* Max: *chokes from drinking too fast* Max: *spills water all over himself* Max, coughing: I don't have any water.

Richie: A mosquito tried to bite me and I slapped it and killed it. Richie: And I started thinking. Richie: Like, it was just trying to get food. Richie: What if I went to the fridge and it just slammed the door shut and snapped my neck? Ruth: Are you ok?

Pete: Where’s Grace? Steph: Doing stuff. Pete: I don’t like the sound of that. Where’s Richie? Steph: Trying to stop Grace from doing the stuff. Pete: And Max? Steph: Trying to stop Richie from stopping Grace from doing the stuff. Pete: I see. And what are you doing here, Steph? Steph: I’m supposed to stop you from stopping Max from stopping Richie from stopping Grace from doing the stuff.

Ruth: Help! I’m drowning! Pete: Calm down. We’re only in six feet of water! Ruth: NOT ALL OF US ARE TALL!

Grace: Woah dude, premarital handholding? That’s just not cool or groovy.

Max on Monday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh. Max on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!

*Everyone is playing a board game together* Grace: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'. Richie: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'. Steph: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'. Pete: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'. Ruth: *flips the board*

Max: When Grace was born, the gods said, "She's too perfect for this world." Steph: Please. When she was born, the devil said, "Oh, competition."

Ruth: I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly. Pete: Why not? Ruth: Because I don't know what they mean.

Mayor Lauter: Well Stephanie, I have to say, I'm really disappointed. Steph: Well, you didn't HAVE to say it. You could've just thought it.

Max: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Jason: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Max: *gasps* whErE???!!!??

Ruth: Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight. Richie: But are you shuffling? Ruth: Every day. Grace: What language are you two speaking??

[cypanache]

Hi! I recently read Patchwork Heart (like twice in two days) and I now have brainrot from that fic. (Which is to say that I loved it.) And I’m sad that it’s incomplete but I’m grateful that you wrote it, and all your other Parks and Rec fics. I remember reading a comment from you (from like 11 years ago lol) where you said you’d been writing for 14 years and you encouraged someone who was feeling bad about their own writing. Which gave me the motivation to keep writing, and made me think, how awesome must it be to be a fanfic writer for so long? This is a rambly comment to say that I’m glad you’re still writing (even if it’s not for Parks heh) and you’re a great inspiration!

(Also I’m aware this isn’t a question but I don’t really know how Tumblr works)

Well this ask officially made my year. (P.S. - Asks don't have to be questions. Especially when they're as lovely as this)

You know every once in a while I think, am I being totally ridiculous just leaving my live journal out there like that? Really, who's going out and reading stuff from over 11 years ago, except ... yeah I've totally done that myself. And I'm forever grateful for the authors who let their stuff just float along and exist. So I'm gratified to know that I did that for you today. And extremely gratified to know that I was able to give you a little motivation to keep writing. I have been doing this for over twenty years with varying levels of success and intensity as my life evolves, but I keep coming back to it, because really at the end of the day, fanfic is one of those hobbies that more than anything make me feel like me. When you find that, you owe it to yourself to hold onto it. Even if you can't do it perfectly or quickly.

I am not going to lie, I'm very sad Patchwork Heart is incomplete as well. That was an unfortunate product of life circumstances overwhelming me and by the time I paddled my way to the surface my emotional relationship with Parks had changed. But I am forever in love with the complete human disaster that was teenage Ben Wyatt in that fic.

Sooooo this isn't much, but this ask made me go back through my google docs. Here have part of a camping trip:

Griggs-Knope-Wyatt (Whatever) Family Vacation  

Hell – 375-369 days to go

Yeah, it’s official, Ben does not get camping.

At all.

Look he gave it a fair try.  But he just-  he doesn’t get it all right.  He doesn’t get what’s so fun about sleeping on the floor (”Ground,” Marlene informs him, “It’s called a ground when it’s outside, dear.") or getting so many mosquito bites, or having to make sure your food is put up in a certain way so raccoons won’t get to it.  And you know what he really doesn’t get?

Ghost stories.

He does not get ghost stories.  They’re not scary.  They’re particularly not scary if your dad is telling them.  And when your step-mom takes over and does manage to tell a scary one, well then you’re outside, in the dark . . . scared.

Oh and his tent collapses on him in the middle of the night.

Yup, okay.  Not.  Having.  Fun.

Ben just wishes he could convince himself that’s actually because of the camping.

Leslie’s been withdrawn and subdued for the past two days.  Not angry, just quiet.  He tried to talk to her yesterday morning like a dozen times, but the one time he got anywhere the fact he was trying to take the whole thing seriously only seemed to make it all worse.

He doesn’t know what to do for her.  Has the sneaking suspicion there’s actually nothing he can do.  Or at least nothing he’s willing to do.

So yeah, maybe he’s going to just lie here under the wreckage of what used to be his tent for a little while.

Except he can’t even seem to manage that, because the next thing he knows there’s the sound of footsteps and a flashlight is being shined into his eyes like an interrogation lamp.

“Benjamin?”

Ben holds up a hand to shield his eyes and squints up at the outline of his step-mother standing over him.  “Umm, hi?”

“Benjamin dear.  Your tent’s on the ground,” she informs him as though she’s not entirely sure he’s aware of this fact.  Sometimes he’s pretty sure his step-mother thinks he’s an idiot.      

“Yeah, so umm, funny story about that.  You know what it was, it-  it fell.”

The fact he always winds up saying stuff like that around her probably doesn’t help.

Marlene doesn’t respond for long moment, and even though he can’t see her face he can pretty much picture it.  It’s a face he’s pretty familiar with.  The one that says ‘I worry about your ability to dress yourself in the mornings’.

“I don’t-  I’ve never really camped,” he continues, unable to help himself.  Marlene’s silences are just about the most effective interrogation technique he’s ever encountered.  No wonder Leslie’s usually so talkative.

“I never would have guessed,” she shoots back, before adding, “Well, should I just leave the two of you alone or would you like some help putting it back up?”

“No- no, help would be good.”

There’s a long pause, then:  “Ben, dear.”

“Yeah?”

“You need to get out of the tent.”

“Oh.  Right.”

---

So in a surprising turn of events (at least in his opinion), Marlene actually turns out to be a pretty good teacher.  Like okay she isn’t the most patient person in the world, but she’s incredibly precise in her explanations of how to do things like tie a hitch-knot, and Ben’s always been more comfortable with precision over intuition, so it doesn’t take him too terribly long to catch on, and when she pats him lightly on the knee in approval, it feels like getting an A in your most demanding class from the teacher who scares the shit out of you.

All in all, Ben’s feeling kind of good about things by the time they get the tent back up, so when Marlene points out that it’s only an hour or so until sunrise and asks whether he wants to help her make coffee for breakfast, he says yes, thinking maybe things are looking up.  

Yeah, no, that was obviously just designed to lull him into a false sense of security.

“So,” Marlene opens without warning or preamble, “Leslie tells me I’m returning the Purdue sweatshirt.”

He barely manages not to tip over his cup of coffee. “Yeah, um, sorry about that.”

“Ben didn’t we talk about that? Um-”

“Is the sound in dumb.  Yeah I know.”

The look she gives him could level small countries.  Ben keeps his head down and tries not to have an aneurysm.

How does he get himself into these situations?  Really why is it sarcastic, smart-aleck things always come out of his mouth at exactly the wrong time.  It’s not like he’s trying to be a wise-ass.  He’s not really trying to be anything really.  (Except maybe invisible.  Invisible would be nice right now.)  But for some reason it happens anyway, and he can’t seem to stop it.  It’s like this leak, this crack in his personality.  Ninety-five percent of the time he manages to be exactly the kind of guy he should be, the kind he thinks Virginia Wyatt would have wanted him to be.  The kind of son his perpetually fragile father seems to need.  Quiet and polite and respectful.  But every once in awhile the pressure of keeping everything else in just gets to be too much and these little drops of acid seep through, landing where they’re not wanted and scarring once they’re there.

Except Marlene Griggs-Knope doesn’t scar that easily.

“Oh, sit up straight.  Really, Ben if you keep going through life acting like a spineless jellyfish, it won’t just be Leslie who treats you like one.”

“I don’t.” he mutters under his breath.

Only he says it to the picnic table so that probably undermines his whole protest.  He forces himself to sit up and look Marlene in the eye (Okay, it’s more like her forehead, but come on, cut him a little slack here.  Do you want to look Marlene in the eye?  Yeah, that’s what he thought.  Shut up.</i>)

“Leslie doesn’t-”

But he can’t make himself complete the thought, because . . . yeah, sometimes she kind of does.  And, shit, it’s Leslie’s mom, and Marlene’s giving him this look that clearly says ‘don’t bullshit me about my own daughter.’  Still, Leslie treats everyone like that, at least everyone important to her.  Ann gets, like, twenty-three instructions a day.  And, well, he likes it.  It’s been a really long time since anyone paid that much attention to anything he did.  It’s how he knows he’s important, that she cares.  If she ever stopped trying to micromanage his life, well then he’d just be another ordinary person on the outside, wouldn’t he?

He opens his mouth to try again, but Marlene waves his efforts away with a dismissive hand.  Oh good, apparently he’s now already used up whatever small amount patience she had allotted for him today, and it’s only, what?  Five-thirty in the morning?  This is probably some kind of new record for him.

Yaaaay . . .

At that moment from across the campsite, Leslie unzips her tent and steps out into the new dawn, only to freeze, eyes going wide, at the obviously unexpected sight of Ben sitting at the picnic table with her mother.

He tries to remember enough Morse code to blink her a S.O.S.

And any other morning it wouldn’t matter that he’s pretty sure he just looks like he’s having an epileptic fit, Leslie would have already come over and rescued him. 

Instead she just turns back around, grabs her towel and a bar soap out of the tent and trudges off to the shower facilities, leaving him alone with Marlene to fend for himself.

Okay, Leslie is officially really upset.

“She will get over it.”

At Marlene’s observation, Ben whips his head back around only to find himself pinned by his step-mother’s sharp assessing gaze.

It feels like all the oxygen just got sucked out of the . . . well, earth.

He opens his mouth to stammer out a disclaimer but only manages a strangled kind of gurgle, which Marlene, thankfully, ignores.

“Leslie is no stranger to disappointment.  She’s a very resilient girl.  Always has been.” She says it matter-of-factly and maybe even a little proudly, then immediately counterbalances it with a sigh of exasperation. “Realism, however, is unfortunately not your step-sister’s strong suit.  Particularly when it comes to people.”

Ben just presses his lips together and fiddles a little with his coffee cup, drumming his fingernails against the metal.  He’s not really sure why Marlene’s telling him all this.  Not that any of it is exactly revelation.  To know anything about Leslie is to know she puts too much faith in life in general and people in particular.

So no it’s not like he doesn’t realize Leslie’s been disappointed by people before—her father, Lindsay . . . And then suddenly it clicks with him, the why behind all of this.

People leave.

In Leslie’s world, people leave her.

For some reason he’s never thought about it before, about her history and the painful lessons life’s given her.  After all, he’s the one with the dead mother, the great tragedy that defined his entire fucking existence before he met her; that he wears like a poorly healed scar on his personality.  Leslie always seemed so untouched by comparison.

But she’s not.  He can see that now.

Because yeah, maybe his mother was ripped out his life.

But people walk out of hers.

By their own choice.

Of their own free will.

Ben drops his head to stare down at the film that’s started to form on his rapidly cooling coffee in shame as he realizes he’s been making plans to join them, to go off to college and then conscientiously extricate himself from her life, little by little, bit by bit, until he’s down to a subsistence diet.  To the bare-essentials of what he needs to survive.  Never once thinking about Leslie’s needs.

God, he is such an ass.

Marlene who has been silent for a little while, gets up to pour herself another cup of coffee, before coming over to sit back down and drop another bombshell on him.  “You know, sometimes I wonder if your father and I should have waited until after the two of you went to college to get married.”

Oh god. He feels a cold finger of dread crawl its way down his spine at her words, and suddenly all he can think is:  She knows.  She knows how he feels about her daughter, and he’s going to die.  Up here in all this outdoors, Marlene probably knows a dozen ways to kill him and make it look like an accident.  Maybe that’s why they’re camping in the first place.  Maybe this was her plan all along . . .

It’s about this time that the rest of what Marlene’s saying starts to sink in.  “—it’s not that we’re not happy you two get along so well.  After all, that’s the whole reason we decided to get married when we did.  Give all of us the chance to try to be a family.  But--” she purses her lips, and narrows her eyes, “Maybe we were a little too successful?”

And the terror’s back.  “Too successful?”

“Up until two days ago, all Leslie ever talked about was going to IU and being close to home.  She’s already learned the fight song.”  That makes him almost smile despite himself, because of course she has.  He bites the inside of his mouth just in time to stop it.  Marlene continues.  “And your father tells me you’ve been collecting brochures for out of state schools ever since the two of you moved to Indiana.  But suddenly here I am buying sweatshirts for Purdue.”

“I didn’t ask-”

Marlen waves his protest away.  “Of course you didn’t.”  Then in a seeming nonsequitor:  “Did you know Ann Perkins did Model UN all last year?”

-----

When I get a little more time I'll try to bullet point out for you where I was going.