that'll do, pig @missmckinnons - Tumblr Blog

longbottomfrank:

I am. That doesn’t mean I’m at all explaining it correctly. Is this a conversational misunderstanding or do you want me to try harder?

Well I want to know what the fuck you’re talking about either way.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

You really aren’t listening to me.

You’re not listening to yourself.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

All right, yes, the Earth. I don’t understand your point.

The point is that things don’t just happen. People make them. Decide.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

What do you think the big, bad world is made up of?

Water, oxygen. Soil.

No brain.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

And they’ve yet to sway me.

The big, bad world doesn’t have feelings and motives and autonomy, Frank. Duh.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

I don’t think I believe in a master plan, but I do believe in there being reasons doors open and close. So I uh, again, whether those instances are guidelines being drawn or– I don’t know, but I do know that it’s up to us to use them wisely. I think the master plan is more of a broad idea than I would like it to be.

You know that there’s doorknobs, right? Like, people open and close doors. And the wind. Man versus man and nature. C’mon, Frank, you’ve read books.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

Do you really think I believe in God’s master plan?

I don’t think you don’t.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

You don’t believe in a uh, a godly master plan, you mean.

Do really you think god’s manly master plan explains any piece or part of me?

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

Sorry about that.

Why didn’t I get in?

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

I’d like to play a game now, are you ready? It’s called Marlene Listens To At Least Three Words Frank Has To Say.

Listening.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

I think my eyes are bigger than my stomach.

Send it to her, then. Sounds like something you’d do.

Why did you add that? Sounds like something you would do.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-four

mckinnonmarlene

longbottomfrank:

What keeps you awake more than anything else?

If Professor Binns can still get a hard on. Would it show, do you think?

#c: frank #frank: thirty-three

franklymydearlongbottom

Pleasure’s mine, I uh– yeah, I’m glad you could come.

Can I get you something to drink?

missmckinnons

Nah, I’m---

Root beer float, please.

Guess I could take water, then. Thanks.

#c: frank #frank: thirty-one

franklymydearlongbottom

Heeeeyyyy… come in, welcome.

missmckinnons

You’ve heard all about Max. Max--- Frank.

Yeah, pleasure to meet you. Finally, huh?

#c: frank #frank: thirty-one

franklymydearlongbottom

Hmm? Yeah. Groceries, I’m sure.

missmckinnons

I can’t imagine your mother grocery shopping.

#frank: thirty #c: frank

franklymydearlongbottom

Go.

missmckinnons

{ A bubbly, giggly smile possessed Marlene’s lips as she turned, fingers loose over Frank’s hands on her waist as she led him up the walk, inside, and into her father’s study. They had been there before, alone even, but never under cover of night without a blanket fort to shelter them. She nodded at the doors, leaving Frank to seal them quietly as she stumbled towards the bar, the buzz of Davey’s stolen fifth of gin mixing poorly with her excitement.

Marlene poured a single glass of the cheap stuff, one-third full, as her knees bounced against each other. Snogging was intoxicating. At gin’s insistence, Marlene pretended, with a cocky smile, that she’d have snogged all the boys they’d been out with that night had she been dared to (bar Caradoc Dearborn, of course) because it was really just that good. She would never understand how letting someone else drool into her mouth could be so appealing; maybe it was like the stars, better left unexplained by the astronomical sciences that had proven too difficult for her to grasp.

And just as she preferred to gasp at the wonder of the stars without all the equations, Marlene preferred to keep her eyes shut as she snogged Frank without a second thought about the mechanics or the consequences. Because if she thought about the mechanics, she’d think a wee bit too hard about Frank calling her pretty. He was her designated cheerleader, after all, meant to boost her esteem at every opportunity; it had simply been that, and nothing more. But what if she did spare time thinking it over, analyzing the tone of every syllable for something beyond lust, familiarity, and comfort? Because if there was something beyond those, then there was reason to spare time thinking about the consequences. And if there were consequences---

If there were consequences, there would be no more snogging. Marlene capped her thoughts, but left the bottle open as she dropped it on the bottom shelf and floated back to Frank, taking a sip of scotch along the way before she raised the glass to his lips. }

“Good?”

#frank: twenty-nine #c: frank

franklymydearlongbottom

Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want to stop and you are so easy on the eyes after nine days in Barcelona. You want the truth? That’s the truth.

missmckinnons

#frank: twenty-nine #c: frank

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