#im sorry all my non life smp followers. so sorry. so sorry. i should make a sideblog but i don't feel like it

[chirp-featherfowl]

PREVIEWING: the one where i write fanfiction about a man with a wife and kid

(working title.)

“Ow,” Martyn says, monotone. “Ouch. Ough. Ack.”

Scott reaches up and hits him on the face. “Would you quit it with the dramatics?”

Two thirteen year old boys sit up in a treehouse much too high up to be safe. Rain patters gently on the roof, and water seeps in through the cracks of the old, splintered wood, hitting Scott on the forehead if he dares lean his head back. It smells of mold and 70% alcohol. “Sorry,” Martyn replies. He sits on an old pillow, skinned knee up and facing Scott.

It looks just about how Scott had expected Pearl and Big B’s treehouse to look like. There’s a tattered Wings of Fire poster up on the wall, but upon closer inspection, he can clearly see that it’s just four printed sheets of paper taped together.

Scott presses another one of those alcohol pads up to Martyn’s knee, and he hisses, scooting back just a little bit before a sorry look flashes across his face. Martyn moves back, and Scott expects Jimmy to pop up with a tirade of complaints, but Jimmy is not there. He’s getting his blond boys confused.

That’s what I get for having a crush before reaching high school, Scott thinks.