One of the most memorable interactions was Saturday. Into our booth strolls a small family, tempted by free samples of freshly brewed tea. We chatter and give them the spiel, that the tea is character merch and we’re a cozy health-based app called Forage Friends.
The young girl zeroes in on our pride pins.
“They have my pin!” She says excitedly. “They have my flag!”
The dad blinks. He is surprised, but also calm and positive when he sees it’s the lesbian flag. “Oh. That’s… different from what you told me.”
“That was months ago, dad.” And she rolls her eyes. Definitely a teenager.
I turn to him and say, “Yeah, dad.” And we share a little laugh about it.
He says, “No, it’s great. That’s amazing, honey. It was just news to me.”
“Well, I guess I just decided to stop lying to myself. About liking guys. Like right now.”
A little lesbian just came out to her dad and he was super cool about it.
I’m standing there in my tie-dye mask and my cheery blue apron pouring tea and making small talk and I’m trying really hard not to cry or compare it to my experience, the fire & brimstone, the disgust, the conditional acceptance as long as I never bring it up.
So as this beautiful bonding is going on, the girl’s even younger brother turns his gaze around. He’s in a snorlax hoodie and bored and wants to go look at the swords across the hall. But on the other side of our booth….
“WHY DO PEOPLE DRAW THAT?” He asks loudly, and we all turn to our neighboring booth.
Our neighbors were extremely lovely people. Every time we had a break we would talk, and we became good friends over the weekend. They kept apologizing that their booth was next to ours and we kept repeating that it was totally fine. Their booth was great. I even bought their merchandise.
The thing that was so contentious, that they felt the need to apologize for, was that they were selling explicit titty hentai stickers of popular characters. They were censored with little yellow R18 labels but the content was very clear.
So back to the family: I freeze and immediately go somewhere else to let dad handle this question. With adult customers I’ve been loud and positive about our neighbors. (“Man, how has it been boothing next to them?” It’s been great! They bring a lot of foot traffic and they’re kind and wonderful professional neighbors. If anything it’s a fun juxtaposition. We believe in artistic freedom. I bought a sticker too!)
But this is a kid, it’s not my place to explain anything…. But I was extremely curious about what this chill dad would say.
“Well,” dad says with a long measured silence between each word. “Sometimes people are horny.”
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Triple Threat 💣⚔️🔫
Your brothers and you are Stu’s children and, when you run into Ethan’s Ghostface, you consider teaming up.
Your brothers were acting unhinged.
You felt embarrassed, watching as Ethan examined your shared apartment, staring around at things that had belonged to your father. Stu had been his favorite Ghostface and, when you’d shoved a knife against his throat in the alleyway, demanding why he was parading around in your dad’s memorabilia, he’d confessed that Richie was his brother.
The three of you had done your research on the Woodsboro murders. You had no intention of killing Sam—no, that wouldn’t be what your dad would’ve wanted. He would’ve wanted you to manipulate her into joining the three of you, but what does one more Ghostface hurt?
“And then,” Ansel was saying, waving his shotgun around like a maniac. “we blew that bitch’s head off.” He laughed and you cringed, crossing your legs on the couch. Ansel was the eldest of you and the most like your dad; he was sadistic, uncaring, and enjoyed killing simply for the sake of it. “What about you, kid? Ever blown someone up?”
“You didn’t blow them up.” Matteo argued, sliding a wet stone against the long blade in his hand. Twin swords were his preferred weapons, thin and lethal, that he wielded with expert skill. “The only person here with explosives is Y/N.”
Ethan eyed you warily.
You noticed the boy constantly looking over at you; you’d disarmed him easily in the alley, pulling him into your complex, and he seemed incredibly out of his depth around the three of you. Nepo babies, he’d teased, which Ansel had found infinitely amusing. Matteo only shrugged, bored, and began sharpening his blades.
“Explosives?” Ethan asked, moving closer to you. You nodded and patted the couch beside you, allowing him to sit. He seemed jumpy, like he was worried the three of you were going to kill him after all. Richie or not. “What kind of—”
“Grenades, car bombs—oh, remember that canister thing you did? Under the house?” Ansel said, setting his shotgun down and opening up the large safe against the living-room wall.
“Whole building gone.” You mimed an explosive with your hands, raising an eyebrow at the boy beside you’s startled look. “Boom.”
“She makes them herself.” Ansel grinned, looking like the Cheshire Cat, and threw something at Ethan.
The boy let out a yelp of surprise and you lunged over his lap to catch it, glaring at your eldest brother. Even Matteo was mumbling curses, glaring as your sibling stuck his tongue out on a laugh.
“These are expensive.” You snapped, placing the grenade beside you. Ethan was shaking, pressed fully against the back of the couch, his eyes wide. “Don’t fuck with my bombs. I don’t touch your guns, you don’t touch mine—”
“You’re no fun, Y/N.” Ansel rolled his eyes, practically skipping over to the couch. He reached over to pinch Ethan’s cheek, enjoying the cringe that crossed the younger boy’s face. “Aw, he looks fresh out of high-school. How old are you sweetheart? Sixteen?”
“Twenty.” Ethan scoffed, eyebrows furrowed as Ansel gripped his chin and turned his face back and forth to examine it. “What are you—”
“Definitely one of those remake losers.” Ansel sighed, patting Ethan’s cheek hard enough to sting. “Dad would be so proud.”
“Leave the kid alone.” You groaned, pushing your brother off him before you reached out to snatch Ansel’s phone from his pocket.
“Hey, that’s mine—”
“I’m ordering pizza, you dick.” You told him, glaring as he moved away, muttering ‘okay mom’ under his breath. “Want anything in particular?” You asked Ethan, turning your head, and realized you were still practically in his lap. You didn’t move though, not when you felt his hand hesitantly, almost as if he wasn’t sure he was doing it, touch your lower back.
“Whatever you want’s fine.” He said, expression still wary. Then he flushed when you leaned in, brushing away an imaginary eyelash from his cheek.
“You’ve got eyes like Bambi, you know that?” The smile that crossed your mouth was feline when he blushed, looking away, then back. “Matteo. Call my supplier. We should get this kid geared up.”
“Sam—” Matteo started, looking up, as he pointed a blade at Ethan. His expression was calm. Your middle brother was the most stoic of you all, moving through life with a steadiness that was the foil to you and Ansel’s subdued Chaos. Perhaps if Billy had been his dad it would’ve made a bit more sense. “—is ours. Don’t even think about touching her.”
“But she killed—”
“Do you think I give a shit about your pathetic brother?” Matteo laughed, standing and dragging the tip of his sword across the floor. “She’s our—” he paused, searching for the right words. “she’s kind of like a sister. You can have the other ones, but not Billy’s kid.”
“That alright with you, sweetheart?” You asked, running your fingers along Ethan’s jawline.
There was a pause, a moment of tension, where Ethan seemed to debate the serious merits of trusting you all, when he nodded.
“Fine. Fine, alright.”
“Good boy.” You cooed, moving yourself fully onto his lap, and looked to Matteo. “I’m serious. Call the supplier.”
He nodded wordlessly and left the room, likely off to see if Ansel was writing runes in blood all over the walls again. You opened the Dominos app and began scrolling, settling back into Ethan’s chest. He was tense—more than tense, but he slowly began to relax as the vanilla scent of your perfume invaded his senses.
“They seem…” he swallowed, and you felt the movement against your own body. “Nice.”
You snorted.
“Hawaiian or Meat Lovers?”
“Hawaiian, duh. But how did you guys—where were you—”
“Stu knocked up our mom a couple times when they were teenagers. She was totally in love, even though he had a girlfriend, which it turned out he had a boyfriend because Billy was—”
“But where were you?”
You paused your typing, turning your face to glance at him.
“The system.” You admitted, frowning at your screen. “Ansel got us out when he turned eighteen. I’d been fostered a couple of times but it never stuck.” You smirked, meeting his eyes again. “He made us nicknames. He thinks we’re some kind of special superheroes. Out to serve justice for anyone who’s wronged Stu or Billy.”
You finished ordering and turned in his lap, slipping your legs around him. You’d just met the dude, for fucks sake, but he was hot. And besides—you’d always been rather forward. Flirtation was in your nature. You felt a thrill when he immediately grabbed your hips, his intrigue and fascination overpowering any shyness.
“Which are?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m The Bomb.” You laughed, and beamed when a grin split across his face. “I know, Cliché. He’s Joker, and Matteo is Red Ninja Turtle.”
“Oddly specific for the last one.”
“He finds pride in his creativity.”
Just then Ansel burst back into the living-room, the Ghostface mask on his head, wielding a chainsaw. It wasn’t on, thank God, but Ethan still gasped and flinched backwards, almost smacking his head against the couch.
“Look what I found!” Ansel laughed, shaking the weapon around. “It’s like Christmas!”
“I told you to stay organized.” Matteo groaned, following after him, and yanked the mask off his brother’s head. “God, take an Ambien or something. You’re freaking me out.”
The doorbell rang, then, and all four of you turned to look at it.
“Do you think it’s the pizza?” Ansel whispered, speaking into a voice modulator and, despite himself, a hesitant smile began pulling on Ethan’s mouth. Shit, your family was way more insane than his.
“We’re all gonna end up in an asylum.” Matteo muttered, pointing a finger at Ansel. “Chainsaw. Closet. Now.”
As he opened the door, smiling politely and talking in that sweet way he always did to strangers, you jostled Ethan a bit underneath you.
“Come on,” you said, moving off of him and grabbing his hand. “come see my collection.”
-
An hour later, after the four of you had split three pizzas and were watching one of the Saw movies, you yawned and moved into your bedroom. Ethan followed—like a puppy, to your amusement—and watched as you opened up your window and leaned against the frame.
“They are..” he trailed off, eyebrows pinched together. He’d allowed Ansel to tease and terrorize him, then Matteo to interrogate him in a low, hushed voice about Ethan’s family and their plans. He’d spared no detail, well aware of the sword that rested on the floor next to your middle sibling. “I don’t know. I’m scared, but I like them.”
“Welcome to the club.” You smirked, peering up at him through your lashes. He leaned against the frame beside you, toned arms brushing your own. The night breeze tousled his hair as he stared out at the city, a contemplative look on his face. “What’s going on up here?” You asked, running your fingers through those dark curls of his, and he shrugged.
“I don’t know, I just…I can’t believe you guys are alive.” He glanced over, then away. “Makes me feel like an amateur.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere, babe.” You told him, bumping your shoulder against his own. “Once Sam joins us, we can go after Sydney. And that bitch, Gale.”
“You think she would?”
“I’ve seen her from afar.” You admitted. “She’s got that look on her face. You know?”
“Yeah.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I think I do.”
You stared at each other for another moment, his expression softening as he took in your face. Before he could do something stupid like have a crush on you, you turned, snatching something off your shelf.
“Here then.” You told him, dropping one of your grenades into his hand. He flinched, and you giggled. “Welcome to team Stu.”
this is the most unhinged family ever but I truly think they’d solo
Part TWO
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