#this is one of those pictures where it looks good from far away but fugly up close

[whiz-disk-blog]

for the requests thing!! can you draw the jettwins hugging/cuddling please? ;v;

I drew them hugging! i hope you like it @joltikhime !

I also was playing around with the effects, ill get really good with them I promise

ENJOY!

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Eavesdrop

A quick alternate to Earshot, but set in canon S2 rather than NPL, where the demons focus on Michael for their taunting.

*

Second book in on the top shelf. That’s the one to pull to unlock the secret door hidden in the wall behind Michael’s desk. She’s supposedly the only other being, besides Janet, in this micro-universe privy to that bit of info. It leads to a hallway that extends to a secret chamber filled with a bunch of Earth collectables along with, recently added on her suggestion, a mini-arcade with classic game machines and a karaoke stand. The walls were sound proof, obviously.

She’s not here to escape a lecture from Chidi about messing up the laundry by hanging out in her demon pal’s very own ‘bud hole’ this time. Her ear is pressed to the closed panel after sealing herself in, waiting for the big Satanic tree to arrive.

To her surprise, and slight annoyance, he hadn’t arrived alone.

“You shouldn’t be getting drunk like this. What if the humans saw you? Everyone here is supposed to be abstinent of all vices!” Michael had grumbled, a ruckus of giggles behind him.

“That’s the point, dummy! It’s a ‘Purge’ night!” Vicky cackled; “Tell ‘im again, Gunner!”

“I got the idea off this human movie - one night, we’re allowed to do any shirt we wanted without consequence! We can drink, smoke, do drugs, stab and bite to our black hearts content!”

“NO! Definitely no stabbing! Or hurting any of them...Physically!” He’d struggled to make that last detail sound natural.

Good save, bud, Eleanor had thought.

Another demon, Petra, Eleanor thinks, had groaned; “Ugh, you are such a buzzkill lately. Can’t you see how awesome this idea is? Think about how wasted Eleanor is gonna let herself get! That dork, Jason, is gonna be high as a kite and it will make Chidi and Tahani wanna cower inside their homes! It’s genius!” 

Eleanor had almost let herself be excited for the idea of trying to make the most of this supposed ‘torture’, similar to the one at Tahani’s party, which even Michael had said she hadn’t done too bad at acting and preparing the chaos sequence the next morning. She could hear the worry in Michael’s response though, being surrounded by three hundred demons, losing their inhibitions and wanting to let off steam in the most ‘passionate’ way possible, had the potential to go very wrong. For all of them.

As she listened, Michael’s attempts to reign in his rogue employees soon descended into outright pleading, which only gave him more scorn in return.

“Look just...remember what our goal is here. I get that you’re all frustrated but we’re doing so well and all I ask is that you don’t go too far on the humans, please.” He’d tried to ask, nicely. Wrong move.

The laughter nearly shook the building.

“Jeez! If you love these humans so much, why don’t you fork them?” Bambadjan teased.

“Nah, let’s face it, not even those cockroaches would wanna go near that disgusting skin suit with all it’s musty folds.” Vicky responded; “...Oh, what’s wrong, Mikey? It’s not like we’re insulting ‘you’ after all...Unless you’re starting to feel a little too cosy in that costume of yours.”

Eleanor’s stomach twisted on his behalf. She knew how much he loved that suit; he was so forking vain, after all. But then again, is it vanity if it’s not really his body? He just wishes it was.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Michael responded, quietly.

“Then prove it, dude! Take it off! Strip! Todd goes streaking every night.” Gunner encouraged.

“You know I can’t! It’s not the same for me.”

“Maybe I’ll take mine off tonight. Imagine how much Mendoza will freak out when he sees a giant acid snake coming for him after too many mushrooms!” Vicky joked; “It’s still ten times better than any torture method you’ve come up with for them, Mike. Maybe melting their brains by revealing your demon form will provide us some results.”

Is it really that bad? Eleanor was naively hoping there was some sexy bald goat-man underneath that suit. Dude was so shifty about it, like he didn’t wanna spoil the mystery. Was it more than that? Was he ashamed?

“You’ve all made your point, have your Purge and I’ll clean up the mess tomorrow. Just go easy on the humans - I insist.” Michael sounded so tired.

“Oh he ‘insists’!? Did you hear that guys? Mikey, who failed his own experiment over eight hundred times, wants to ‘insist’!” Vicky sneers.

“Well I insist that he shuts his fugly food hole and leave the masters to our job!” Petra cackled; “And he gets back to trying to fork his paperclips or whatever shirt you get up to here.”

That sounded painful, Eleanor couldn’t stop herself picturing it.

“Jeez, Mike, you always were a loser but there’s really no hope for you, is there. Before you were just the quiet nerd no one wanted to hang out with because of your weird fixation with Earth-people. Soon you’re gonna be known as the idiot who failed his first experiment; even if the rest of us do manage to salvage it for Shawn, we’ll all know the truth about how badly you suuucked!”

It took all of Eleanor’s strength not to shove the panel open, stomp over and grab Vicky’s hair to slam her face into the desk. They all just followed him in there to bully him?! They were the losers.

“C’mon, guys! We should have known he wouldn’t have wanted to join our party, it’s not like he’s used to being invited to any.” Bambadjan added, inciting more giggles.

“See you in the morning, dumb-ash. Be up bright and early to clean up our shirt, as you say, chop chop!”

Counting to ten to contain her rage luckily meets up with the sound of the door closing, the demons exiting the building.

She carefully opens the secret door, seeing Michael sat in his chair, hands folded on his lap, eyes cast down. When he hears her soft footsteps, his head turns, expression shifting to try to cover the wobbling lip she’d briefly caught sight of. He sniffs and rubs his upper lip with his hand.

“Eleanor!” Michael straightens up; “Were you there the whole time? What if they’d seen you or...sensed you were there?”

“Relax, man, they didn’t see shirt, it’s cool.” She puts her hand up; “...You okay?”

He looks to the side, forcing his ‘superior’ smirk, “Uhh, yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be? Just...having a bit of workplace banter, as they say.”

“Didn’t sound like ‘banter’ to me, dude.” She edges closer, slowly, knowing that if he’s as much like her as she knows, he’s gonna be like a wounded tiger right now.

Getting too close, too quick, is gonna get her eyes clawed out. She would know, she’s swung a few claws herself.

Michael sniffs, struggling to keep his mask on; “M’fine, Eleanor, really. You better go prepare for this Purge or whatever they were talking about, go enjoy yourself or...make sure the others are safe-.”

His words are cut off by her weight falling down onto his lap, arms looping around his neck as she embraces him. Fork it. Screw being slow and steady; the demon was about ready to cry.

“Wha....What are you doing?” Michael stutters, stiffening.

“Hugging you, idiot...Sorry, I mean that affectionately,” She says against his ear.

“W-why?”

She shrugs, still hugging him tight, shuffling on his knees; “’Cause you need it. ‘Cause it’s the quickest way to let you know that all those things those demons said was garbage. Fork, have they always talked to you like that?”

His silence answers her question.

She squeezes him again; “Damn, no wonder you’re as new to this whole friend thing as me.”

“Demons insult each other all the time, Eleanor, it’s how we compliment each other. We’re meant to enjoy it.”

That made zero sense. 

“But you don’t....do you?”

Michael breaths in deep against her. Then she shakes her head, leaning into her shoulder.

“That’s ‘cause I’m a freak...I’m wrong, just like they say...like Shawn says...I’m just a failure of a demon.”

“That’s a good thing in my books, man.” Eleanor pulls back, looking at him, admiringly; “You might be failing as a demon but, I have it on good authority, you are rocking it as a newbie human. And I know you think we’re all gross and stupid but...I know you love us.”

He wrinkles his nose, trying to look as though he denied it, yet refusing to. His eyes gaze into hers, a rush of color brightening his cheeks.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to say it, I know you’re not quite ready there yet.” She knows herself how difficult it is to say those three words, to anyone; “But we’re your friends. We want you on our team, Michael, not just ‘cause it stops you torturing us but...Because you’re a cool guy to be around, when you’re not giving paperclip showers or putting us in purple space bubbles.”

A smile threatened to crack on Michael’s face as he squirmed beneath her. Was it really this easy to make an all-powerful being look so shy and bashful? It was adorable.

She moves her hand up to his cheek, thumb stroking below his eye, reddened with unshed tears.

“Also...I feel kinda obliged to confess something.” She says, “This skin-suit? Your skin-suit? What Vicky said was bull-shirt. All of it. Not only is this suit as much you as whatever demony essence you got going on underneath...But it’s also not bad looking either. I might even go as far to say ‘handsome’. In like a Richard Gere in Pretty Woman way.”

“R-really?” He looks hopeful for a second; “I mean...I know it’s gorgeous, but I wouldn’t expect...I mean I wouldn’t want you - or any human - to ever wanna-.”

She cuts his babbling off again with a kiss on the cheek.

He’s frozen now.

Eleanor grins; “That prove it for you? You know me, I don’t give out pity kisses.”

Michael squirmed again, biting his lip, mumbling something which might have been ‘gross’ or ‘weird food holes’, but he doesn’t move his hands away from where they’ve found the small of her back.

“Hey...how about we do one quick bit of karaoke before we go brief the others on tonight. You can pick the song.” She says, giving his bow-tie the smallest tug.

He smiles, touched, then nods; “Sounds good...”

“Cool. Also, don’t open that drawer on your desk until you’ve properly cheered up - I rigged it with a pie to get thrown in your face as revenge for cheating off my paper earlier!”

“Oh, pies are the best prank! I wish you hadn’t told me now, you’ve spoiled the surprise.”

Eleanor giggles as she takes his hand, leading him to his bud-hole; “You know me, demon buddy. I’m always full of surprises.”

His fingers squeezed hers; “That you are.”

[stareaten]

pynch.

~5k words.

read on ao3 instead

Adam collects things. He clings to them; he hoards them.

You wouldn’t notice it at first, not with how logical and calculating he is, certainly not within the small space of Adam’s tiny apartment above St. Agnes filled with the mismatched, makeshift furniture, and surely not in the cluttered mess of the mismatched, makeshift desk where Adam is sitting, hunched over, and scribbling some shit about some fucking thing in one of his notebooks.

But because Ronan is Ronan, he starts catching up. He is lying sprawled on his back on Adam’s uncomfortable mattress, bored out of his mind. He left his headphones back at Monmouth and can’t be assed to go back to pick them up. Adam shows no intention on paying him any attention – at least not until he’s finished with whatever the fuck he’s working on – so Ronan decides to bother him just a bit. (It’s his philosophy notes he’s working on, Ronan knows it, because Ronan clings to everything Adam tells him. That’s why he knows it isn’t so important, because Adam knows it but still insists on being a giant, pain-in-the-ass nerd.)

Ronan rolls back onto his stomach and scoots closer to Adam’s desk, peering over his arm to try to understand Adam’s chicken scratch. He grabs one of the pens lying around and goes to write something – something stupid or sweet or rude or, considering he’s Ronan, all three at once – in the margin of the open notebook. He starts to write but the pen doesn’t work so he picks up another one. This time he manages to write one big letter before it runs out of ink. He scowls at the pen in an attempt to intimidate it into working, and then shakes it vigorously. When it still refuses to work, because apparently pens can feel no terror, he chucks it away and searches for another one. This one manages two more letters before dying out. Ronan frowns again, shakes it – again – and tries to press it more firmly into the paper before Adam’s hand comes up to grab at his wrist.

“Stop it,” Adam says without looking up from finishing his page, “you’re gonna tear the paper.”

“I wouldn’t have to tear your paper if you had a damn pen that works,” Ronan replies.

Adam says nothing, just flips the page and starts writing on the left side of the notebook, effectively stopping Ronan’s attempts at delinquency.

Ronan huffs. And picks up another pen. He manages to write a big capital A on the corner of the page before Adam elbows him in the face. Ronan rubs at his chin. “I was just testing to see if this one works.”

Adam hums. “They all work.”

“Like shit they do.”

“They all work in a pinch.”

“This is a pinch. And they don’t fucking work.”

“I would hardly call your attempts at desecrating my notes ‘a pinch’,” Adam says, nose still buried in said notes.

“It’s not desecrating if I make them more fun,” Ronan says.

Adam sighs. “Go be bored somewhere else.”

Ronan scowls, but lies back on the bed. He manages some good 10 minutes before picking up a crumbled up receipt from the floor and drawing more inappropriate things before the pen dies out.

***

Adam picks up empty yogurt cups Sargent leaves lying around the Barns and washes them out in the sink. He dries them with a kitchen towel, stacks them up and puts them in the cupboard above the microwave, where neither of them will actually be bothered to reach them.

“You can’t recycle them,” he says when Ronan tries to dump them in the trash. “Doesn’t mean you can’t use them again.”

“What for?” Ronan groans. “There are plenty of cups here. Plastic cups and glasses and cups that sing and cups that curse at you and whatever kind of cups your ass desires. Fuck, Parrish, I’ll dream you up another cup, just for you, which recites pluperfect of esse whenever you drink your gross fucking no sugar coffee out of it.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “We can use them for seedlings.”

“Right,” Ronan mutters. “Fucking seedlings.” But he sees Adam putting the yogurt cups up in the cabinet anyway.

***

Ronan visits Adam at college one weekend when Adam isn’t too busy studying and Declan is too busy to chew Ronan’s ass over one thing or another.

Adam wraps his arms around Ronan’s shoulders and releases a deep sigh.

“Fuck, Parrish,” Ronan says, rubbing his hand up and down Adam’s ribs. “You know freshman fifteen means you gain those pounds, not lose them, right?”

Adam huffs into his neck. “Guess you better learn how to cook then.”

Ronan groans and for a moment considers how difficult it would be to dream up a stove that makes any meal on its own. He would probably still end up eating pizzas anyway.

Adam’s dorm room is not big and Ronan knows which side of it is his as soon as he enters. There is a corkboard above his desk and Ronan leans closer to inspect everything that is pinned there while Adam changes out of his clothes.

There are receipts from the store and scrawled reminders for papers and homework and exams. There is a single black feather and a printed out picture of Gansey, Blue and Cheng standing in front of- some fucking monument Ronan didn’t care enough to remember the name of, Cheng’s ugly mug uncomfortably close to the camera. Gansey sent it to Ronan’s phone some time ago, but giving that Ronan only started actually checking his phone once Adam left for Harvard, it sat in the messages until Adam picked it up and grinned at it so hard that, one afternoon later, Ronan cursed and kicked and glared his old printer back to life in order to print it out. There is also a postcard Sargent sent him from Bumfuck, Nowhere just recently - Ronan can’t see the message on the back, but he knows who it’s from because he has a matching one sitting next to his computer, collecting dust so he can pretend it didn’t make his insides twist when he found it in the mail. (His personalized message only read ‘miss you, asshole – blue’ and he grinned before thinking better of it.)

And then there are… other pieces of trash. A bubblegum wrap and what appears to be a torn piece of post-it and one of those paper bracelets you get on those obnoxious student parties. There is a red solo cup right underneath it with two fugly red and white pens with Harvard logo sticking out of it. Ronan silently wonders if they even fucking work. There’s also a bunch of pamphlets stacked neatly on the edge of the desk and Ronan flips mindlessly through them. Fuck, he thinks, I’m in love with a hoarder.

He is quickly distracted from that thought by the aforementioned hoarder’s arms sliding around his middle. Adam kisses the back of his neck and then the soft spot under his ear, so Ronan has no choice but to turn around and kiss him senseless.

“Hi,” Adam breathes against his lips once they part, soft and quiet. His thumb gently massages the back of Ronan’s skull, while fingers of his other hand come up to trace Ronan’s cheekbone.

“Hi,” Ronan says, soft and quiet, because he loves Adam, loves him when he gets all pushy and hungry, loves him even more so when he gets soft and gentle and private and just for Ronan to see.

“I missed you,” Adam says and Ronan gets an excellent idea about moving Adam’s fingers closer to his lips but then there is a knock on the door and Adam’s hands fall away.

To his credit though, they don’t go very far. Adam takes a step back, but stays well within Ronan’s personal space, one of his beautiful hands resting on the inside of Ronan’s elbow. Ronan still scowls at the person knocking even before they enter the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Adam’s roommate says poking his head inside. “I just forgot to grab my notes.”

“No problem,” Adam replies, smiling politely. Ronan elects to stay silent this time.

The roommate leaves the door open as he moves to his side of the room, rummaging through his stuff, and Ronan almost groans when he sees another person standing in the doorway.

“Hey Adam,” the other boy says, nodding. “We’ll get out of your hair right away.”

Adam waves his arm dismissively. “It’s alright, really.”

Ronan would beg to fucking differ.

“Adam?” the roommate says and makes an apologetic face. “You wouldn’t happen to have some notes from the last Doyle’s class, would you?”

“From Wednesday morning class?” Adam frowns and lets go of Ronan’s arm to search through his own pile of notebooks. Ronan grits his teeth.

He doesn’t care to hear the rest of that conversation and instead turns to scowl at the boy at the doorway when he feels his eyes on the back of his neck. “What?” Ronan presses out.

The boy seems to remember himself as he stands up a bit straighter. “Sorry, just. You’re Adam’s boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Ronan say, frowning deeper.

“You’re the farmer?”

“Yes,” Ronan repeats and stuffs his fists into his pockets.

“Huh,” the guy says and leans on the doorway again. “Sorry, you’re just. Not what I expected. But that explains the jacket.”

“The jacket?” Ronan wonders how deeply he will have to twist his face in order to get this guy to leave.

“What do you grow?” the boy asks instead of explaining himself, in an attempt to be polite or rude or nosey or fucking annoying, see if Ronan cares which one. “On your farm?”

Ronan shrugs, feeling out of his depth and hating it. “Potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” the boy repeats, frowning like he’s never heard the word before.

“He’s Irish,” Adam suddenly says, grabbing at Ronan’s elbow. He looks at Ronan and there it is again, that private smile of his. Ronan has no choice but to deflate a little. “He thinks it’s funny.”

The guy at the door breathes out a short, fake laugh and Ronan hates him. But the roommate is already pushing him out and saying to Adam over his shoulder: “Thank you so much, Adam, for the notes, and sorry for bothering you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiles and then they're gone.

Ronan still scowls at the door.

“Sorry about that,” Adam says and he is already putting his hands back where they belong, kissing just under Ronan’s jaw. Understandably, Ronan loses the ability to think for quite a while.

It’s only when he is finally, finally removing his shirt over his head that he remembers to ask: “The jacket?”

“Huh?” Adam says intelligently, his sole focus on the button of Ronan’s jeans.

“The other guy. He mentioned your jacket.”

“Huh?” Adam repeats, but now he raises his head to look at Ronan. “Oh!” he says as his eyes light up with understanding. “I took your jacket. The old leather one.” He shrugs. “You were going to throw it away, didn’t think you’d care. Some of the guys were teasing me, said it didn’t fit my style – whatever they think my style is supposed to be – I told them I took it from you.”

“The one with the burnt sleeve?” Ronan frowns again. “Parrish, if you needed a new jacket…”

“I didn’t need it, okay?” Adam says and rolls his eyes. “It’s just a nice jacket and you didn’t want it anyway. Can we now stop talking about clothes and get back to removing them?” To prove his point, Adam lifts the edge of his own shirt and pulls it off, and every other thought Ronan might have had flies right away with it.

***

Opal runs across the pasture straight into Adam’s arms as soon as she hears his car coming around the corner. Ronan berates her for it (“Let him catch a breath, for fuck’s sake.”) if only because he didn’t get to do it first.

But Adam just smiles and lets Opal cling to him, crouches down to be at the same eye level. She pulls out a piece of colorful candy wrapper, half-eaten and sticky with spit and fuck knows what else, and holds it out for Adam to take. Ronan watches, amused, as Adam tries not to make a disgusted face and promptly fails at it.

“Thank you, Opal,” he still says, taking it from her. Opal beams at him.

And then Adam finally straightens up and turns around so that Ronan can wrap himself around him and kiss his temples.

“I have a trunk full of stuff to take upstairs,” Adam says in lieu of hello.

“You also have two perfectly working legs and arms to match, so I don’t know how that has anything to do with me,” Ronan replies into his hair.

Adam huffs a laugh. “Asshole.” He pinches Ronan’s side and Ronan pushes him away, feigning being hurt, before turning around and heading straight for the trunk of his shit car.

It’s much, much later that Adam drags him to the laundry room. Well. He doesn’t exactly drag him there. It’s more that Adam hoists up a bag full of dirty clothes and heads towards the laundry room and Ronan wordlessly follows him there, picking up a new box of washing powder from the pantry.

Adam starts talking about the last oral exam he had and it’s a testament to how much Ronan missed him that he doesn’t even make a crude joke about it, just leans against the washing machine and watches Adam empty the pockets of his pants, clinging to his every word. And for someone who is constantly giving Ronan shit about the state of his car, Adam sure does carry a lot of trash in his pockets.

He pulls out a piece of candy wrapper Ronan at first doesn’t even recognize as the one Opal gave him – its colors shifted now that it dried in Adam’s pocket – and he doesn’t even pause his story before straightening it and putting it in the back pocket of the jeans he is currently wearing. Ronan frowns, but stays silent.

***

It was Adam’s idea to clean out the closets in the first place. Ronan, understandably, groaned and rolled his eyes and kicked the floor and used very colorful language to express his disdain. He even promised to dream up a new closet, just for Adam and his bunch of shit, really, Parrish, you won’t even have to look at Ronan’s clothes ever again, he’ll make it so that it chews and spits out Ronan’s tank tops even if he puts them there by mistake, just please don’t make him spend another summer day holed up inside.

But Adam, ever the pragmatic, just shakes his head. “Where would you even put a new dresser? The room’s cluttered enough.”

Ronan considers giving him a very imaginative answer to that particular question, but realizes that he is still going to end up cleaning the closets anyway, only this way he won’t have to deal with both of them pissed off. Not that either of them ends up happy though. It’s an incredibly uninteresting and tiring chore, especially given the fact that ninety-nine percent of Ronan’s clothes is black – the remaining one percent being dark gray or somewhat lighter gray or, very rarely, deep dark blue – and it’s hard to recognize which of his tees are the ones good to keep and which ones are too tight or too ripped even for him to wear. After an hour or so he just ends up chucking them on two separate piles randomly.

He stays out of Adam’s stuff for quite a while, mostly because Adam has significantly less stuff than Ronan (not that anyone would guess it, given their respective fashion choices), but Ronan’s fucking boyfriend is as pedantic about this as he is about anything else. Adam holds up every item, squints at it for a second or two, and if he decides to keep it he folds it carefully on one of the piles he has around the room.

“Go find a box,” Adam says after Ronan sighs for the fifth time in a minute, idly pushing Adam’s stuff around.

Ronan frowns. “What for?”

Adam doesn’t look up from his pile of clothes. “So we can pack up some of the clothes you just tossed away and I can drive it to Goodwill on my way to Boyd’s.”

Ronan considers it for a moment and nods. Okay, maybe Adam has a point, so what. Doesn’t mean he won’t be difficult about it, since he’s still bored as hell. “What boxes?”

“In the small barn, bring the sturdy ones,” Adam replies, folding another t-shirt carefully.

Ronan stomps to the small barn, kicks some stuff around, comes back empty handed. “There isn’t one.”

Adam frowns. “There has to be at least a few. I left them there months ago.”

“Oh, those,” Ronan says, sarcastically, but is immediately hit with a flashback of one very boring afternoon when he and Opal decided to set shit on fire after Adam let him know he won’t be able to come that weekend after all, and Declan called to tell him he’s coming down for some shit or another and he and Ronan should get lunch. “I got rid of those,” he says, because he doesn’t lie but also isn’t too keen on explaining Adam what exactly happened to them.

Adam closes his eyes and sighs. “Well, there’s gotta be at least one box around here somewhere.”

Ronan shrugs. “I’ll check the long barn.”

He manages to find two cardboard boxes, similar enough in sizes. He brings them all the way to the porch before thinking better of it and bringing them back so he can dust them off first. When he finally hauls them upstairs, he finds Adam frowning at a pair of jeans.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” he drawls as he watches Ronan drop the boxes at his feet, “and assume you know what kinda clothes are good for donation.”

“Fuck you,” Ronan says, which roughly translates to I’ll go through all my shit again and throw the good ones in the shittier looking box, and then he gets to it with just as much enthusiasm as before. Adam says nothing, but Ronan sees one corner of his mouth lifting into a very rude smile.

It must have been hours, days, weeks, fucking years later that they finally manage to sort the old but wearable clothes into the donation boxes (it’s mostly stuff Ronan doesn’t want to wear and Adam doesn’t want to steal from him, and then some stuff of Adam’s that do not fit him right anymore) and the unwearable clothes into trash bags. It’s certainly been long enough that Adam decides they deserve a break.

“Come on,” he says, offering his hand to Ronan who’s sitting on the floor, his legs splayed out. “There’s some ice cream in the freezer.”

Ronan squints up at him, suspicious. “Since when?”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Since the other day when I came from Boyd’s while you were busy chasing goats away from the long barn.” He wiggles his fingers a little. “Unless you want to keep cleaning.”

“You kept ice cream from me for three days?” Ronan huffs, but still takes his hand and lets Adam pull him up.

“It’s not hiding it if you never think to check the freezer,” Adam replies, because he has to be a smartass about everything. Ronan forgives him as soon as the ice cream is out and it’s the kind that Ronan likes the best but rarely when buys because Adam prefers a different one.

Ronan fills two mugs – cause they have a shit ton of those, but no clean bowls apparently – with the ice cream and brings them out to the porch where Adam is already sitting on the stairs facing the pasture. He hands him his mug and Adam leans up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

They sit in silence broken only by soft clicking of spoons against ceramic and crickets singing in the grass. The sun is setting behind the woods surrounding the Barns, coloring the sky red and pink and orange. Adam presses his leg against Ronan’s wordlessly and Ronan leans into him until their shoulders brush. Sometimes Ronan thinks he could stay like this forever, just feeling Adam’s body calm and relaxed against his, sharing the quiet between them without a care in the world. He wishes he could somehow freeze the moment and tuck it into his back pocket to look at it later, when Adam’s away and his side of the bed is cold.

“You know we still have to put the clothes away, right?” Adam asks nudging his knee with his own.

And sometimes, Ronan just wants to fucking kill him.

Instead of dignifying that with a response, he leans forward and licks Adam’s cheek.

“Eww,” Adam says, pushing at him playfully. “Real mature.”

“You had some ice cream on your face,” Ronan replies. “Couldn’t let it go to waste.”

“Gross,” Adam says, standing up and rubbing his hand against Ronan’s scalp.

Ronan follows him inside begrudgingly.

Once the boxes are out of the way, putting away the clothes is going much faster than sorting it out, albeit it’s not any less boring – for one part because Ronan doesn’t care where exactly in the closet his clothes end up and Adam is too busy organizing his own to berate him for just bunching up a handful of tank tops and stuffing them on the second highest shelf.

Once done, Ronan looks around the room to make sure nothing is left lying around when he spots one of Adam’s tees lying on the bed. He picks it up and sees that it’s threadbare, with a hole in the front and pieces of thread hanging from the sleeves.

“Hey, Marie Kondo,” Ronan calls, “you forgot this one.”

“The fact that you know who she is takes a significant part out of the insult,” Adam says, returning back to the room.

“Everyone knows who she is.” Ronan glares for good measure, even though he knows Adam is immune to it, and balls the tee in his hand, already reaching for a trash bag with his other, before Adam stops him.

“No, wait.” He grabs at the hand holding the tee. “I’m keeping that one.”

Ronan frowns. “It’s shit.”

“So is a good portion of your wardrobe,” Adam replies. “Give me.”

“My shirts at least don’t fucking look like moths had a dinner party,” Ronan says. “I’m throwing this out.”

“It’s my t-shirt,” Adam says, frowning deeply. “You can’t throw it away.”

“Watch me,” Ronan says and raises his hand higher in an attempt to get out of Adam’s reach.

Adam doesn’t attempt to reach anymore, though. He just crosses his arms over his chest and now Ronan knows he’s really upset. “Why are you being such a dick about it?”

Ronan’s frown deepens. “You were giving me shit about tidying up all day and now you’re giving me shit about throwing away an old t-shirt?”

Adam’s jaw clenches. “Sorry we can’t all afford to have twenty Tom Fords in our closets, Lynch.”

“You have a wardrobe full of shit, Parrish. This one’s basically see-through.” Ronan raises the tee in front of his face to prove his point.

Adam snatches it away. “It’s mine,” he says and turns back to the closet.

Ronan watches him as he folds the old t-shirt, his back tense and shoulders up to his ears. “Whatever, Parrish,” he says and takes the last trash bag outside.

***

Ronan can’t sleep. Which is nothing new, to be perfectly honest. He kicks the covers to the foot of the bed and gets up to piss. On his way back he pulls his t-shirt off and throws it in some corner of the room or the other. He glances at Adam’s back before climbing back to bed next to him.

There is no way Adam is asleep while it’s hot as balls, not while the sheets keep sticking to their skin every time they move, not while his body is wound so tight he would probably jump out of bed and straight through the window if Ronan touched him.

Fine, Ronan thinks. If Adam intends to stay pissed at him for no fucking reason whatsoever, who is Ronan to stop him. Adam always does what he wants, when he wants, anyway. Leaves when he wants, can leave Ronan behind if he wants, leaves Ronan feeling like shit over something he doesn’t even know he’s done wrong.

Ronan punches his pillow into, truthfully, no more comfortable lump than before and turns to lie on his back. He can hear the owl hooting outside. There is no fucking wind. Ronan rubs the heel of his hand against his right eye, but doesn’t curse out loud.

“It’s what I was wearing,” Adam says suddenly, his voice carefully neutral, “back then.”

Ronan considers this for a moment. “What?”

Adam stays silent for a moment before curling into himself a bit more. “Nothin’,” he mutters. “Forget it.”

Ronan frowns, thinks back to the fucking t-shirt now lying somewhere in the closet. “You were wearing it when?”

He hears Adam exhale slowly. “When you first kissed me.”

Oh, Ronan thinks. He lets the words sink in, but he can’t find anything good to say. “That’s why you didn’t want to throw it away?” It comes out more as a question than an explanation.

“Yeah.” Adam swallows. “No.”

Ronan stays silent, at a loss as to what to do. He wants to reach for Adam, pull him close and kiss away whatever it is troubling his mind. He wants to hold his hand and feel at ease. But he knows Adam would only just pull away now. So he waits.

Adam takes a breath before slowly rolling over onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t have much growing up,” he says, and, no shit, Ronan still remembers the meager backpack and a cereal box Adam carried out of that fucking trailer years ago, remembers carrying the duffel bag and thinking ‘this is Adam’s whole life here’, remembers being careful not to bang it against anything.

“I had to take care of things if I wanted to have them for longer,” Adam continues, “cause once they were gone, they were gone. And even if something breaks, you keep it, because you can always reuse it in a pinch. Like the pens.” He swallows. “I can’t write an essay with an empty pen, but sometimes I can write down an important phone number or a reminder. A broken thing is still better than no thing at all, right?”

Ronan sneaks a look at Adam and finds that his eyes are firmly closed even as he continues.

“And if you gotta spend money, you want evidence of what you spent it on, so it doesn’t just disappear one day without you noticing." He pauses. "You want to make sure that the thing was real, y’know.”

And oh. Oh, Ronan thinks, there it is. “Adam,” he whispers gently and slides his hand across the sheets to find Adam’s. Because Ronan would know a thing or two about wanting to stick to something so badly, about being so scared of losing the one good thing he has, about being terrified it wasn’t even real to begin with.

Adam rolls his head from side to side, rubbing at his forehead with his other hand, but he lets Ronan entwine their fingers. “I know it’s stupid,” he says.

“Kinda is,” Ronan says. Tries for humor: “Glad to know that I’m not the only stupid one in this relationship.” Fails.

Adam rolls his head again, doesn’t open his eyes.

Ronan shifts until he’s lying on his side. “Hey,” he says quietly and leans forward to kiss Adam’s shoulder. “You’re not planning on getting rid of me, are you?”

“No,” Adam answers and finally blinks his eyes open. “Of course not.” He sighs and turns to face Ronan. “It’s just-,” he stops himself, swallows, tries again. “I’m happy. I’m so impossibly happy, Ronan, and one part of me keeps waiting for everything to be taken away from me.” He kicks the cover off with his legs. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Ronan wants to say something. He wants to say you’ll always have me, and if it’s up to me, you’ll never lack anything ever in your entire life, and I don’t want you to worry ever again, and I want you to have everything, and I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But Adam is smart, the smartest person Ronan knows. Adam knows all this already. Some scars just take longer to heal. Some scars just never completely heal. Ronan would know a thing or two about that, too.

So Ronan just scoots closer, heat be damned, and lets Adam hide his face into his neck.

***

Ronan dreams up a pen that never runs out of ink and puts it in Adam’s messenger bag while he’s working at Boyd’s. He debates dreaming up a pencil case when he realizes Adam doesn’t have one, then debates buying one from Amazon like any other asshole would, but then decides that Adam wouldn’t let him get away with that. He got better at accepting gifts from Ronan, though. It’s more that Ronan would be compelled to buy something ugly or funny or ridiculous – like that disgusting one shaped like a dead fish – and Adam would refuse to take it to classroom.

Adam washes out yogurt cups and ice cream containers, and Ronan dries them with a kitchen towel before turning around and using it to smack Adam’s ass with it. Adam cusses him out and chases him around. They both somehow end up in a laughing heap on the floor.

One night, Adam takes a cardboard box out of the closet and sits it on the bed before beckoning Ronan over. He takes out pieces of papers and shit and tells Ronan stories for every single one. Ronan recognizes a few of the items instantly: scraps of candy wrappers and dry leaves from Opal, a flower Ronan took out of his dreams while he was still building Lindenmere, one half of a watch band with teeth marks on it, another postcard from Blue.

Then there is a piece of wrap from a chewing gum Adam’s college friend gave him on his first night there. There is a movie ticket from a screening of some boring ass movie they had to see for one of their classes, when Adam and his roommate were the only ones in the theater and they ended up laughing so hard they were sick. There is a safety pin one of Adam’s classmates gave him to temporarily fix a shirt when he accidentally tore it right before his big presentation in the class.

Ronan knows every one of these stories already, Adam telling him everything over the phone, but he still soaks in every single word Adam says. He never realized before that Adam kept mementos. He realizes that, yes, these little scraps make the stories a tiny bit more real.

There is also an old, beaten to shit notebook which Ronan recognizes as Adam’s old Latin notebook and, sure enough, when Adam flips the pages there are profanities written in Ronan’s handwriting on the margins of the pages.

Next time he visits Adam, he takes him out for lunch, and Ronan pockets the receipt before leaving the restaurant. Back in Adam’s room, he scribbles something on the back of it – having found a working pen on the first try – and stuffs it in Adam’s pocket while hugging him goodbye.

(Ronan also happens to leave his hoodie under Adam’s pillow. Adam doesn’t ask, Ronan doesn’t lie.)

Adam comes home for the winter break hauling more dirty clothes and a bookshop worth of notebooks. He spots Ronan’s addition to the room right away, but waits until he deposits the bags so he can put his hands on his hips judgmentally. “This is new,” he says.

Ronan shrugs. He watches wordlessly as Adam crosses the room to carefully slide his hand across the big wooden chest. Its honey color is still shining faintly, and its hinges are golden. (It’s the third one he’s made, but Adam doesn’t have to know that. The first two were so goddamn awful that all the evidence of them was quickly destroyed, this time no thanks to Opal.)

“And you didn’t think we have room for another dresser,” Ronan says, just to be a smartass.

Adam doesn’t fall for it this time. “It’s beautiful, Ronan.”

Ronan crosses the room to stand closer to him. “Figured you’d need something sturdier.”

“Hmm?” Adam hums, still admiring the chest.

“You know,” Ronan says, and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Your box is good and all, but it’s cardboard. It won't last much longer, not if you keep adding shit to it, and you’ll run out of space. And I know Opal keeps giving you fucking rocks, whatever, it’s your fucking fault for enabling her, but she-,”

Adam cuts him off by grabbing his face with both of his hands and kissing him, deeply and roughly. “Thank you,” he breathes against Ronan’s lips before diving in for another kiss.

***

Ronan considers the possibility that his boyfriend has some weird ass tidying up kink (and then promptly considers the possibilities of using that to his advantage) because Adam’s barely been home for three days before Ronan finds him decluttering their room. But apparently it’s just, no, Lynch, we’re already hauling stuff out so we can repaint the room so it’s only logical to go through the shit we don’t need anymore. Maybe it’s pragmatism kink. Or competency kink. (Fuck, does Ronan have competency kink?)

Ronan watches as Adam dumps a handful of pens into a trash can, follows those with candy wraps and a broken pieces of plastic from fuck knows what. Ronan joins him by throwing out three empty glue sticks, a pair of broken scissors, more fucking yogurt cups (which Ronan won’t ever admit drinking out of because he couldn’t be assed to wash out any of three hundred glasses lying around the sink). He gets bored quickly enough, and he doesn’t want to throw out anything Adam might want to keep, so he settles on hauling furniture out of the room. Adam teases him about showing off, but Ronan doesn’t miss the way Adam checks him out, his eyes catching on Ronan’s exposed arms, so fuck you, Parrish, I win.

“Hey, what’s this?” Ronan says picking up a ball-up piece of fabric lying on top of a trash can, before he recognizes it.

Adam comes to stand next to him. “You were right,” he says, and some other time Ronan might have been smug about those words coming from him. “It’s shit. And I don’t need it anymore.”

Ronan looks at the t-shirt in his hands, pokes a finger through the hole on its front. “No, you don’t need it.”

“I can kiss you whenever I want now,” Adam reasons, and leans forward to kiss Ronan’s shoulder to prove his point.

Ronan turns his head to press a kiss to Adam’s hair. “Maybe you could keep this one, though,” he says, too nonchalant to be anything but. “It kinda grew on me.”

Adam smiles up at him.

Yeah, Ronan thinks, some things are worth clinging onto.  

[nicknchris09]

Once In A Lifetime Chapter 64 Gender Revealed

Melissa's POV

It was the day of the ultrasound.  I was excited.  I didn't know why as I knew I wouldn't know the sex for another five days.  Rachael and Seth was with me.  We were in the room and the ultrasound tech walked in.  She said, "Okay, so you ready to see the baby."  I smiled and nodded.  Seth was excited too.  Then she asked, "Are we going to find out the sex?"

Rachael quickly said, "Yes but they are not to know.  I am the only one to know."

The ultrasound tech asked, "Doing a gender reveal?"

I nodded.  "She insisted."

She chuckled slightly.  "Okay, then."  Then she said to me, "I think you know the drill.  Lay back and lift your shirt and lower your pants slightly."

I did as she told and she put the gel on my belly.  Quickly she went was looking around.  We saw a profile of our child.  I smiled as I saw our baby on the screen.  She said, "Here is a profile of the baby."

I looked over to see Seth smiling.  "Perfect."  He said in awe.

I smiled and looked back at the screen.  She looked around as she showed us the baby more.  We saw our little one moving a lot during the ultrasound.  I was full of smiles.  Then she moved the screen so we couldn't see it.  She type something then printed the picture.  She put it in an envelop and handed it to Rachael.  Rachael smiled as she was excited.  She gave us the rest of the pictures.  We walked out and Seth was excited about our newest addition.  I could tell as he hand an arm around me and had his hand on my belly.  I smiled and asked Rachael, "So, what do you have plan?"

"You will have to see."  She only said.

I frowned.  Then Seth said, "Well, we are going to go home.  Just don't go crazy with all this."

"Hell that.  This is your last baby.  I am going to go all out."  Rachael told him.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled.  "Okay, we will see you later."

We said our goodbyes and got in the car.  Seth said as we started to drive off, "I hate not knowing.  I can't believe you talked me into this."

"You waited all nine months with James.  You can wait another five days for this one.  You will survive."  I said to him.

He frowned.  "I just want to prove to you that I am right.  It's a girl.  I can feel it."

"We will see, Seth."  I only said, smiling.

The next five days moved slowly for us.  We were anxious.  Rachael was now at our house having people set up for the party in the backyard.  Seth and I were inside as Rachael forbid us from getting near it till the party started.  It was honestly making us more anxious.  Then people showed up and we were finally able to go out back.  It was decorated in pink and blue.  She had a game set up to see how many people thought it was a boy and how many thought it was a girl.  I, of course, picked a boy.  Seth picked girl.  I saw Mila and Alex and walked over to them.  Mila smiled.  "Oh my god, Lissa.  You look radiant.  Pregnancy suits you."

"Take that back."  I eyed her.

She laughed.  "So, are you two done this time?"

"I sure hope so.  Five kids is a lot."  I told her.

"No shit."  She smiled.  "You are braver then me.  I don't know what I would do if I had that many kids."

"Probably jump off a bridge.  That was my first thought."  I told her.

Alex and Mila laughed.  Then Alex asked, "So why was Seth out for a few days last week?  He won't tell us why he couldn't come in."

I smiled.  "I would tell you but Seth might have a cow if I did."

Alex smiled and said, "Oh, now I am more curious."

"You can be curious all you want but you won't get it from me."  I told her with a smile.

Then Rachael walked over and asked, "Where is Seth?"

I looked around and said, "I don't know."

"Well, find him.  We are ready to do the reveal."  She said.

I got excited at that moment.  "Okay, let me find him real quick."

I walked around the backyard and couldn't find him.  I walked inside and found him in the kitchen, talking to someone.  I walked in to see who it was.  It was Charlize.  Seth saw me and looked worried.  I could tell he was afraid on how I would react.  I was stung by seeing her.  I walked in and asked, "What are you doing here, Charlize?"

"Look, Rachael told me about the party.  She knew me coming wouldn't be a good idea.  I just came by to drop off a gift.  I was just about to leave."  She said to me.

I only smiled at her as I said, sincerely, "Thank you.  That was very sweet of you."

She smiled as she seemed a bit relieved.  Then she said, "I don't want to cause any trouble.  But congratulations to you both.  I will be on my way."

I nodded and then said, "Thanks for coming by."

She smiled and nodded back at me.  She then walked out.  Seth quickly looked at me.  "I swear, I didn't know she would stop by.  I was just trying to get her to go.  I didn't want you to get upset."

I smiled at him and gently touched his arm.  "Seth, it's okay.  I'm not angry."

He seemed relieved.  "Really?  I thought you would be."

I shook my head.  "No, Seth.  I know you would not do anything again to jeopardize us."  Then I smiled at him.  "Rachael wants us to come out to do the reveal.  You ready?"

He smiled at me.  "Am I ever."

We both walked out and Rachael put us at a table.  She got everyone's attention.  "Okay, everyone.  The happy couple will be doing the reveal."

The crowd gathered around and she moved away.  As we waited, Seth put an arm around me and leaned in as he said, "You ready to be wrong."

"I'm never wrong."  I grinned.

Just then, handed me a black balloon.  She then said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Okay, you two need to bust the balloon and the color that comes out with tell us whether it is a boy or a girl."

I held the string and she handed me a pair of scissors.  I held it out to Seth and asked, "Do you want to do it?"

He only smiled and took it.  He then grabbed the bottom of the balloon and quickly stabbed it.  It popped and pink confetti fell on me and Seth.  The crowded cheered and I was actually smiling.  I was worried about having a little girl but I knew Seth would be more then happy.  I looked over and he was grinning widely.  He then smirked at me.  "I told you."

"This will be the only time I will hear those words come out of your mouth."  I grinned at him.

He then asked, "Are you happy with this?"

I smiled at him and nodded.  "It's our baby, I am happy just to have this with you.   I really don't care anymore if it was a boy or girl.  Just wanted to prove you wrong for the sake of proving you wrong.  But I am okay with having a little girl."  I said sincerely.  Then I smirked.  "But just you know, this world is doomed."

He laughed.  "It was already doomed just with one of you."  Then he moved in and breathed, "I hope she looks like you."

"I do too or we would have one fugly little girl."  I smirked.

He just laughed and then took my lips as he was happy.  We had four boys and now we were to have a little girl.  I was actually really happy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seth's POV

The party came to an end and I was over the moon as we found out it was a girl.  The boys were excited too.  KJ seemed to be the happiest.  He had three younger brothers, I knew he was ready for a change.  Lissa and I sat on the couch as we were tired but happy.  My hand was on her belly as I gently rubbed it.  I could tell she was spent and rested her head on my shoulder.  I said with a smile, "We are having a little girl."

"I know, this is definitely going to be different."  She told me.  Then she looked up at me as she said, "By the way, you better learn how to do hair and what not as you got what you wanted."

I chuckled.  "Okay, love.  If you say so."

"I do."  She said as she smiled.

She then moved her head off my shoulder then laid back on the opposite end of the couch.  She moved her legs over my lap and got comfortable.  I moved my hand back to her belly and rested it on it.  I asked, "Are you really happy about this?"

I was a little concerned as I knew she didn't really want a girl.  She smiled at me and said, "Yes, Seth.  I am.  Boy or girl.  I don't care.  Just happy to have this baby with you.  Even if she wasn't planned.  It might be nice to have a girl in this brood.  Give us a change of pace."

I smiled.  Then I bent down and gently kissed her belly.  Instantly I felt Lissa's hand in my hair as she ran her fingers in my hair.  I looked up at her and smiled.  Then I looked back at the belly and said, softly, to it, "Daddy already loves you, little girl."  I looked up as I saw Lissa smiling as she heard what I said.  I moved up and kissed her gently.  I went to break away and I felt Lissa have a grip on my shirt.  She stopped me from pulling too far away from her.  She pulled me back in and kissed me, deeply.  I kissed her back as I knew where this was leading.  We broke the kiss and we both breathed heavily.  I looked at her.  "I love you."

"I love you too."  She breathed.

We went back to kissing.  We slowly made our way to our bedroom.  I took her and afterwards, we fell asleep, happy.  Next thing I knew, I felt someone shaking me.  I knew it was Lissa.  I groaned, "Baby, just give me a bit longer."

"Seth, wake up."  She said, sounding upset.

I opened my eyes and looked at the time.  It was a little past two.  I groaned again, "Do you see the time, Lissa?  Can it wait till the morning?"

I laid down and closed my eyes again.  Lissa shook me again and said, almost panicked, "Get up, Seth.  I think my water broke."

My eyes sprung open and I looked at her.  She looked scared.  "It's too early, isn't it?"

"Yes, we have to go to the hospital.  Something isn't right."  She said as tears streamed.  

I quickly got up and said, "Calm down, baby.  It will be okay."  She nodded but the tears kept streaming down her face.  I then said, "Come on, I'll call my sister and help you get dress."

"Okay."  She said, softly.

I got up and quickly called my sister.  I woke KJ up and told got him to watch over the other boys till their aunt got there.  I didn't want to waste a minute getting Lissa to the hospital.  Lissa and I got dressed and I walked with her to the car.  She got in and I closed the door behind her.  I rushed to the other side and got in.  I drove off quickly.  I looked over briefly at Lissa as she seemed upset.  I reached over and took her hand.  "It will be okay, love."  I was hoping I was right.

"What if it isn't, Seth.  It's too early for the baby to come.  What if something is wrong?  What if she isn't okay?"  She said in tears.

I felt so lost.  I said softly, "It has to be okay, baby.  It just has to."

We didn't speak another word on our ride to the hospital.  We both were worried about our little girl.  Worried that when we got there, we wouldn't take her home.  I couldn't bare this.  Not again.  Not after what happened to James.  I almost lost a child once, I couldn't bare to think that I could lose one that night.

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Next Chapter

[szopenhauer]

Is there any food in your bedroom? nope, just an empty mug but I might go to the kitchen and refill it with water How far away do your grandparents live from you? minutes of walking

Is there anything related to cats in your bedroom? obvi Do you know who lives three houses down from you? yep Is your mom a big health freak or your dad? Or neither? some sort Easter or Halloween? Easter Do you own any yellow clothes? sure Do you have your moms or dads eyes? more my dad’s Is there anything shiny in the room youre in? yep Have your parents ever been out of the country? from what I know/remember Do you swear and yell while playing video games? I might If you had to get up at 6am tomorrow morning, would it be painful? yeah Have you ever seen the last person you watched TV with drunk? nope Has a best friend ever ditched you for a girlfriend/boyfriend? that happened Do you have anything in your room youve had for ten years or more? lots Do your pets chase after bugs? nah Would you ever kiss the last person who messaged you on facebook/MSN/etc? already done  Do eat at home or in restaurants more? home Do you e-mail more often then you talk on MSN/AIM? noooooo If your best friends birthday was next week, what would you get them? hmm... What is your moms favorite movie? *shrug* How much older is your dad then you? over 30 years What TV family reminds you of your own family? none? Do you own any flip-flops? ewww, no Did you ever really believe that the stork brought babies? I don’t think so Do you have any relatives who really spoil you? my father Are there any drawers in your house that are just filled with junk? yup Is the last person you spoke to in love? she is Do you think Zac Efron is really that good looking? gross Has anyone you know ever pulled the fire alarm in school, joking around? - Is the last person you said goodbye to single? she’s in a relationship Who are the last people you saw kiss? that disgusting couple in the park Chapstick or lipgloss? yuk, no thx What was the last unplesant thing to wake you up? my health issues Do you have any friends who are ALWAYS kissing their bf/gf? I do not, luckily Does that get annoying? would, definitely If you could trade appearances with the last person you hugged, would you? sorry mom but no ^^” Does your best friend get along with their parents? he is my parent lol If you were to walk to Florida from where you live, would it take long? it’s not possible Would you feel safer with an alarm system or security camera? security camera more I believe Does the last person you touched smoke? my mother doesn’t smoke Does it matter to you what kind of shampoo you use? mhm

If the last person you kissed invited you to a family dinner, would you go? umm... Has anyone ever told one of your secrets they promised they wouldn’t tell? more than once but I do the same often so I deserve it lmfao Do you remember what you were wearing last time you cried? not sure which was the last one Do you think you could survive living by yourself for a month? not without a job...

Have you ever been in an on-and-off relationship?  could say so Have you ever developped a crush on someone the first day you met them? I just liked the way they looked, nothing more Is there a store you go to so much the employees know your name? local stores, I live in a small town Did you get the last person you texted a present for their last birthday? we didn’t talk at the time Does your best friend get along with their parents? personal Would you be able to tell me your mom’s favorite food? not really Is there anything in you room your parents would be pissed about? What? doubt it Have you ever sneezed more then 10 times in a row? not in a row :o Have you ever helped someone while they were drunk puking? hell no What annoys you more to do, sneeze or cough? depends? Would you rather a pet snake or a pet cat? cat but I still don’t want either, snakes are cool too tho Are you welcome at the last person you kissed house? I am Did you have any unread texts when you woke up today? not today Who was the first person you spoke to today? parent Have you ever dated someone who smoked? Did it bother you? we didn’t kiss  Does the last person who’s house you were at like anyone? me :P Have you ever watched someone being carried into an ambulance? ... Have you ever showered with a member of the opposite sex? omg no way Do you own more pink or black clothes? black Has a boyfriend/girlfriend ever given you a stuffed animal? my current gf gave me a stuffed unicorn Do you think you could be with one person for the rest of starting now? if not her then no one ever again What time did you wake up last Saturday?  today’s Saturday and I woke up at 8.40 

To you, what is the best smelling food when it’s being cooked, fried or baked that you cannot resist? I hate the smell of food cooking :( What is something you’re surprised hasn’t been invented yet? cure for allergy?...

Can you fake an accent?  few but not well ;)

Have you ever won some sort of prize or prize package from a contest? yasss

Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medications for it? I should and probably will soon 

In your town/city, what’s the main attraction? nothing much

Do you enjoy crime shows? Which one is your favorite? I’ve watched all Marple movies and most of Poirot episodes if that count

If you had the opportunity to open a store, what would you want to sell? thrift, antiques, second hand clothes, furniture, interior decorations etc.

What do you think the world will be like in 50 years? dunno

When people smoke around you, does it make you cough? not cough but it does makes me feel bad  Would you rather name your child Michelle or Monica? those names are fugly Is it warm out enough to go out in a T-shirt where you live? it is :3

Would you rather be able to teleport or be invisible? teleport  If someone offered you a million dollars to move to the opposite end of the earth, would you? Why or why not? where would that be?... What is your mom’s and dad’s favorite TV show? they loved Plebania the most How did you get your hair the way it was today? I woke up like this  Have you ever felt like you lost a a part of yourself? sigh... Batman or Superman? Batman Have you ever suspected your mom or dad of having an affair? woah wtf When’s the last time you wished your day would just be over already? there were plenty of days like that If you found out the last person you kissed was moving to a different country, how would you feel? betrayed Does it gross you out when your parents kiss? they don’t really do that usually? Do you have a playlist made on Youtube? 1 Are your eyes hazel? Or know someone who has hazel eyes? it seems How many people saw your last kiss? hahaha  Do you think it’s weird how babies are made? disgusting If you walk by a mirror, will you check yourself out in it? I avoid mirrors Are you comfortable in a short skirt? I’m uncomfy in all skirts? Who was your most romantic moment with? my partner  Does your dad swear? meh  When you like someone, do you picture what your children will look like? I don’t want/plan to have any kids

[fuglyhorsehypocrite-blog1]

Love 4 Tbs, Miss Fugly? Really????

See this gorgeous OTTB?  This is the only pic of him as he has now been shipped off for slaughter……and at the end this post, we will do something we usually don’t, we will point a finger at someone we believe is personally responsible for this animal NOT being saved.

As many of our readers know, we strive to be honest and research to find the truth.  There has been a crazy amount accusation against those who work to prevent good riding horses from ending up leaving our country and end up in a slaughter house in Canada.  It is their belief; these horses deserve to find a good home and they are providing a service to let the general public see what horses are available.

We want to make it public knowledge that we support this group and their work. We firmly believe they have every right to present these horses for sale (which is exactly what they do).  The FL owner does not want his lot crawling with the public (and quite frankly, he has every right to feel that way.  Insurance may prohibit this….we don’t know…but we can see the potential for a dangerous situation to occur such as a novice “I want to save a horse” rider goes into a pen with a horse that may or may not be safe and gets hurt….lawsuits, death….the list of “maybes” could be astronomical). However, the FL owner is kind enough to allow Rebel’s on his lot and they choose to send in one of their assessors.  Pics are taken, the horses are featured.  And, the lucky ones find homes.  But not always are those homes right around the corner.  Sometimes the buyers are coming from as far away from WA as Florida.  Pretty dang far and the FL owner is not going to house and feed that horse for free.  NOR SHOULD HE HAVE TO.  Enter the QT and transporters.  But again, WHY should they have to do this for free?  They shouldn’t.  This is the way of the world.  You must pay for your house, your food, your car, your gas, etc.  Yet the FL owners, the QT ranches, the transporters, & even Rebel’s are expected to do this for FREE if you look at the logic of Miss Fugly.  No, they should not.  They are NOT a rescue group (though they are doing the right thing) and why should they not be allowed to tag another $25 bucks or so on the price of the horse to cover gas to the lot or their time

This has been bugging the hell out of several of us so we did a little digging and some serious checking around.  The following was sent to us via someone who was there.  FIRST HAND ACCOUNTING…..and just as we have presented stories of other people wronged by Miss Fugly, her “rescue angels” and the rabid sheep, we are going to do it again.  Please read the following story very carefully.

In April, the Rebels Feedlot Sales Group sent an “assessor” to the feedlot to see what was standing there.  This is how they work.  She found a few that seemed suitable for sale to the public, made a physical inspection, then they called the usual riders and scheduled an appointment with them to come and put the horses through their paces. She took pictures and wrote out a description of each horse then sent them to the web master. Each horse was given a name, posted pictures and the descriptions on the board, then, the Group went to work on writing advertisements.

The horses were listed on April 29, 2010.

They had been working peacefully using these same procedures for over a year, no problems and no complaints until we sold one particular horse.. He was a 3 Year Old, 16+Hh, TB gelding priced at $575. He was a beautiful horse, gentle and willing to please. So we were not surprised to find a buyer for him fairly quickly.

The horse’s name was Frisco.      

The buyers purchased Frisco from his legal owner at the Feedlot, loaded him up and took him home. This is when the trouble started.

The buyers turned out to be a Rescue named R.A.C.E. They claimed to be a ‘Splinter group’ of another Rescue named Second Chance Ranch and both groups were frequently mentioned as ‘Acceptable Rescues’ by Miss Fugly herself. As Frisco was an OTTB so he carried a tattoo from his racing days.

Someone read his tattoo, traced his registry and located his last registered owner. The next day the poor woman was the subject of the Fugly blog. Her picture was posted along with the contact information of both her home and her workplace….And the typical Fugly torment began….floods of emails were sent by the rabid sheep, phone calls were made to both her home and her office .  We can only imagine the horror she must have suffered at the hands of these ‘unidentified attackers’ before she was given a chance to explain that she had given the horse to a trainer for the purpose of re-training him as a saddle mount. She had no idea that the trainer had sold the horse to someone else or how many people had owned the horse before someone sold him to the Feedlot.

Having said that, she is still vilified by the rabid sheep and Miss Fugly for in their minds, she should never have gotten rid of the horse.  (Gosh, sounds kind of like the whole incident with Pete doesn’t it….owner sells a horse, assumes a good home and then because of circumstances beyond the owner’s control, the horse ends up in a bad situation.  However, for some reason that we cannot begin to even claim to comprehend, the owner is a horrible person who deserves to be attacked.)…..  Reminds us of the Salem Witch Trials.

    Anyway, the woman is accused of “dumping her horse at the feedlot” and as most things on the net, it went viral and turned into a terrible gossip filled disease which eventually spread to the track where this horse had raced. The rabid sheep began attacking. And soon the “rescue war” was on and the battle lines were drawn.  The well-known trainer had one story, Second Chance Ranch another. Toss in R.A.C.E.’s deception of buying a horse without disclosing who they really were and then the attacks on Rebel’s and you have a huge convoluted mess. From this crazy finger pointing and blame game, the continued frenzy of the mob mentality and the rabid sheep spread to the Feedlot where the owner was subjected to furious phone calls from both the ‘Concerned Citizens’ complaining about his business practices (we know these as Rabid sheep) but he also began getting calls from his clients who were terrified they could be subjected to abuse, threats, and the torment that Frisco’s ex-owner had to subject.

Now, at this point we want to everyone to understand that we again are not going to take a stance on the slaughter debate.   But, we will defend the right for anyone to make a living as long as it is NOT illegal.  We have previously used the analogy of the tobacco companies being allowed to continue to sell a product that is known to cause death.  However, it is NOT illegal for them to make their living at the expense of others and quite frankly, it’s not illegal for any feed lot owner to make a living by selling horses.  It’s the way it is.

However, the actions of the Rabid Sheep and their leader, Miss Fugly, caused the feed lot owner to come up with a solution.  His answer was simple;  if no OTTB’s (or any other animal that can be tracked via tattoos) are rescued, then he and his clients won’t be subjected to the threats, verbal abuse, and online defamation of character he went through along with the trainer, the former owner and everyone else involved.  Therefore,

OTTB’s were to be placed under a NR order ( No Rescue) and this is now their fate.

They are not seen, not assessed and have no hope of  surviving long beyond the trailer ride that will take them across the border to the slaughter house.  Rebel’s will no longer have access to these lovely, deserving creatures now, nor be able to continue to try to get them off the feed lot. They will all die, nameless and unseen by anyone who would love to help them.

Our personal take on this, because of Miss Fugly’s direct action of choosing to “out” the owner of Frisco and encouraging her rabid sheep to go after her and everyone else related to this horse, she has essentially condemned the OTTBs on the feed lot to die.  We have all seen from her recent post that she claims to have a soft spot for TB broodmares.  If this is true, how on earth can she not see what she has done and stop it.  Any normal person, even if they did not want to admit to the world what they have done, how can she look at herself in the mirror and not think “oh crap I screwed up” and then quietly change her ways is beyond us.

But instead, she is continuing to attack innocent people and she has made no bones about publicly criticizing the Rebel’s Feed Lot Group and anyone who is not on her approved list but tries to help horses who are slaughter bound.  Quite frankly, we commend them for the way they conduct themselves.  They make no bones about the fact they are providing a list of horses that are going to die.  THIS IS A FACT.  It is NOT the “emotional blackmail” Miss Fugly accuses them of. Yes, they are making the plea to buy these horses fast because they will go to slaughter.  It’s not a SCAM………….it’s the reality of it and no matter how you package it, the ugly truth is if the horse is not paid for, it’s slaughter bound.   But for some reason, Miss Fugly has deemed this “wrong”.  She cites people profiting from their deaths but wait a minute……if the horse is yanked off the lot, it is not going to die.  Little confused there, Miss Fugly?  She also accuses those working the feed lot sales as preying on people’s emotions to make money.  Uh…..ok, so the only difference we see is that they don’t hide the fact if they do make money and they don’t ask for donations under the guise of “rescue”.  They are not a 501c3 and they don’t beg for financial help in the form of donations or gifts.  They will happily take money anyone offers to get a horse out of the kill pen as that is the reason they exist.

Having said all that, we want to address this issue of dishonesty vs honesty when it comes to “saving” a horse.  Rebel’s is honest about where the horse comes from, put a price tag, offer transportation for a fee, and boarding for QT also at a fee.  This is pretty much as we stated the way it is.  If you buy a horse from a seller but can’t pick it up for a month and you don’t have a trailer, you are going to pay board until you get your horse and you are going to have to pay someone to pick it up (or pay for the gas even if you do own a trailer).  The only thing we see the rescues are doing differently is rolling the cost of the board and transportation of the horse from when they acquire it into the price of the horse.  And we know for a fact that some rescues DO indeed charge for board once you adopt their horse and if they provide transportation, they charge the adopter as well.

Back to the idea of getting an OTTB, if you are out near Rebel’s you can’t save one from the feed lot anymore thanks to Miss Fugly …But, if you want to buy a TB you can go to Second Chance Ranch, they are ‘stuffed to the rafters’ with OTTBs ……According to her you can now be spared being ‘scammed’ by the Rebels who advertised horse like Frisco for $575 and you can go to SCR and pay their ‘Honest’ prices and give yourself a little pat on the back for  helping “rescue” one of their horses.