Has it been a week already? Man, this week has really flown! Here’s what’s kept us busy.

AI Progress

Andre has been working on the AI. I’ve explained why AI is taking so long before, but I will explain it again incase you’ve just started reading our blogs. The old AI used Unity’s built in navmesh stuff. The mesh for the island was 400mb. We can’t use that stuff on the new island because everything is procedurally generated, we can’t pre-bake a mesh. It has to be dynamic. That’s what Andre is on top of here.

Disconnections Now Work

There was a longstanding bug where when you disconnected from a game it turned night and thirdperson and your player fell through the world forever. This is now fixed, you can disconnect and rejoin another server just fine :)

Walls

Walls are in. You can place them on terrain without a foundation at the moment. I’m not sure we’ll be keeping that functionality. But I definitely want to add fences and ‘garden walls’ at some point.. because that would rock.

To stress test the servers I’ve made placing foundations and walls really cheap and quick, and knocking them down really hard and slow. This means that when you join a server you’re probably going to see this.

It gets worse.


I am trying to work out if we’re being dumb about the building system. Whether it should be block based or something. Trying to think it through more before we fully commit.. that’s why everything is programmer art so far.

String Table Fixes

A string table is a bandwidth saving system. Instead of sending words over the network multiple times, certain words like entity names are pooled and are referenced by number. This means that instead of sending 7 bytes for the word “entity” you can send a 2 byte integer.

There was a problem in the string table system where the client could sometimes add their own values to it, meaning that all the strings got messed up. This could cause the client to spawn the wrong entities. This is why you sometimes saw a tree running around like a player.

Slanty Foundations

Something I’ve been meaning to test for a while. What if the foundations were orientated to the ground you place them on, so you need to place them on nice flat ground? It was a one word change in the code so I decided to enable it and see how we get on with it.

It obviously makes for some pretty unrealistic situations, and would probably end up in us having to add some kind of building stability stuff. But to be honest we’re probably going to have to add that anyway at some point.

Ragdoll transitions

Ragdolls now properly transition from the player’s model – instead of just appearing sprawled on the ground under where they died. This works for wolves too!

Caves

Bill is still going crazy with the caves, they are looking incredibly awesome! This is still a bit of an art test – but he’s also creating the assets in a way that we can use them when the time comes.



Weapon Effects

You can now see and hear other players shoot their weapons, with muzzle flash and shooty noises. Your viewmodel has muzzleflash and shooty noises too!

Deer Animations

Anyone else get the feeling that Goosey really loves animating animals? All those years wasted on Counter-Strike when he could have been working on a game where animals move in an animated fashion. He’s been working on the deer this week!

Colliders Workaround

We’ve had a problem in Rust since we added building. People build too much. In Unity there’s a collider limit of 64k and with 100 people on a server we can hit that easily in about 10 hours. Unity5 uses an upgraded physics engine – so this is fixed, but Unity don’t love us enough to give us Unity5. So in the old version of Rust there were a few hacks to help us overcome it. At the start of the game all the tree’s colliders are merged into one big collider. That’s why we can’t remove trees in that version. That saves about 5,000 colliders. Next when you’re building all the connected colliders are merged. This works but it’s a hell of a lot of fucking about to make it work and even more fucking about to make it work without lagging the server. Then you have the problem of a player shooting an object – it’s hitting a compound collider.. you need to find out which object it actually hit.

So fuck that shit. You can become a slave to workarounds like this.

In this version the world is divided into a grid for network reasons. A player is only sent the objects in adjacent cells. So because they’re already in a grid we can look at each object and say.. there’s no player subscribed the cell you’re in.. so turn your collider off. And this works so far. It’s keeping us well under the limit. The limit is still there but hopefully this cheeky fix will hold us off until Unity5 comes out.

Server Performance

More speed, more optimizations. Items were using ScriptableObjects, which are great because they’re automatically serialized and you can view them from the editor and they have a nice Destroy function. But it turns out they also eat memory for breakfast relative to a regular class, especially when you have tens of thousands of them lying around. So they are all just plain old classes now. And it’s all good.

Before (memory used in bytes is on left):

After:

It’s worth keeping in mind here that we might not have the same amount of items lying around at the end of this graph – but at the start it’s exactly the same situation. And I’m seeing a nearly 100mb difference in Unity’s memory usage. Yikes!

Also we had a few situations where we were using InvokeRepeating to call functions every second etc (which seems like it’d be a slow way to do it, but it isn’t). When we had multiple ones of these running they would eventually bunch up so they’d all be called on the same frame, which could cause a tiny < 50ms hitch. We fixed this by varying the repeat time on each one by about 1% - which meant that if they all managed to get bunched up, they would un-bunch automatically over time.

Northern Lands

Your boy Petur is still kicking it in the Northern Biome.


Concept Art

And now everyone’s favorite part, the transparent background concept art!

Meg’s generators:

Paul’s Buildings:

Meg’s Stacked Hut:

Paul’s Shack Ladder:

Scott’s Insane Building Scrawlings:

Summary

We got some decent stuff in this week, we learned a few things and we made a few things better. Multiplay are now hosting some test servers for the Experimental version.. but they’re probably out of date already.

Most of the cleaning and optimizing is done now. Next week I’m going to set up a list of easy, low hanging gameplay fruit and just pile through it. Our goal is the baseline – every feature currently in the legacy version. It’s going to be a few weeks until we get there but once we do it’ll be a case of balancing them moving forward with new stuff to encourage people to move over to this version.

The comments are back. Please don’t post erotic stories again.

Comments

  1.  
      Badaudio

    THIS LOOKS FUCKING AWESOME WHAAAAAAT

  2.  
      Dark_TAO

    Constantin777 moygstar Stop playing games on crappy laptops. A GeForce 630m is NOT equivalent to a 6XX GTX series GPU. The same is true for your mobile processor.

  3.  
      skully213

    I can’t wait!!!  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  I can’t wait  

    but i will continue waiting…

  4.  
      AleJaja

    Welcome to ON.RUST server!
    HOW TO CONNECT
    If u want to connect by console, type:
    net.connect 31.214.240.103:28100
    SHORT INFO
    75 slots
    wiped 18.07.2014
    location – Germany
    ABOUT ON.RUST
    This server is powered by Magma. We have some usefull plugins like:
    Crush (you can destroy elements of your buildings with this), Clan
    System (create your team, invite friends, set clan-tag and more),
    SleepingBagExploitFix (this plugin is great, just set which friends can
    put sleeping bags in your base; no more anoying glitchers!), Rank++
    (check who is top killer on this server), DeathMSG (now you can see, who
    was killed by who, on text chat).
    Admins are online usually ~16/24.
    ON.RUST SERVER RULES:
    All cheaters/glitchers/exploiters will be banned.Griefing isn’t allowed.Respect other players.Don’t spam on text/voice chat.You can use enligsh and polish languages.Admin can’t spawn items for you.If you need any help, type: “admin” on text chat.

  5.  
      coolhh355

    Very awesome guys, keep up the good work you are doing great!

  6.  
      Decilation

    Constantin777 Do you ever shut the fuck up?

  7.  
      someguy04

    Last time I played Rust it was on a Legacy server and the structures were wood and metal. I was a bit surprised that I didnt see any options with stone, something like medieval era castles and walls is what I was expecting. I understand this game is being developed as we go and this game is far from complete but I think it would be cool to see something like that. Just surprised that we went in terms of safety from wood straight to metal.

  8.  
      Zingos27

    AaronWaller Dirt bikes or quad bikes would be so cool. Or just normal bikes, not cars, so vanilla.

  9.  
      Zingos27

    vincenzon888 Lol, Unturned is the worst game ever, it’s only “big” because pewds played it…

  10.  
      KailJanosky

    robinjohansson420 stop complaining you just suck

  11.  
      SamuelBowers

    This is probably really far fetched but is it possible to have more graphical options for users with extremely bad computers like me for example? Like for example, Garry’s mod i can run perfectly fine on ultra low graphical settings and i can keep a solid 120 fps and higher, same with TF2 (i have a config for TF2 that makes my graphics look really bad to improve performance) i can keep a solid 200+ fps, not like i need it. I was just wondering if it would be possible to add more graphic settings to help other users who have poor GPU’s to at least keep a solid 50 – 60 fps. I love playing Rust but it’s difficult to raid and fight off people when you’re running windowed in 800 x 600. Just a thought. 

    Also something about console commands. I’m one for entering a lot of console commands and key bindings to help my gaming experience. For example, on this modded Death Match / Raid server i play on, you can have people teleport to you with a command such as “/tpr name here” and to accept the teleport command you would type “/tpa” maybe if you could add console commands for chat binds like “bind o say /tpa” i think it would really help a lot of people who are into their first person shooters.

  12.  
      Devil_Boy_76

    Nice work and keep going like that ! :3

  13.  
      XD0MIN0S

    Very nice work, glad to see that the development team has started to reap the benefits of the time invested into the game (as well as the player base). It would be nice to see some restriction on in-game architecture though (as mentioned), such as a height restriction to lets say 10 floors with wood supporting structures, and maybe 20 stories with metal load bearing beams (to cut down on giant death towers). It would also be great to see some new npc enemies such as birds (please not as annoying as SevenDays2Die bees), maybe a locus cloud that would mitigate the success of farming (once/if/or implemented).

    Anyways great work, these updates are a fantastic idea and keep the community engaged, able to see (and interact) the development process, thank you very much.

    A happy player,
    xDominos

  14.  
      KeithJamesDavis

    What happened to all the servers? More specifically North America 3. Can’t find explanations anywhere, was perma banned on forums for asking, and no response from multiple emails to devs.

  15.  
      PCMachinima

    Constantin777 moygstar Get a better PC. ;)

    Also, I’m liking the new stuff in the devblog. I especially like the new animations and the caves :)

  16.  
      almond_stash

    Each to their own I guess

  17.  
      Siskin

    wtf? “It seems you are trying to post malformed content”.

    Here is my comment on pastebin: http://pastebin.com/sJnmSKN7

    To devs: Please read it, it contains actual suggestions not just chatter.

  18.  
      Constantin777

    almond_stash We still have that freedom of opinion and not the Nazi regime. So I’m going to express a negative opinion about the development of the game. I see here a lot of artificial positive

  19.  
      NickOverweg

    I read the comments after being enticed by promises of vulgarity and smut. You have greatly disappointed me.

  20.  
      ciaranpatston

    zeromercy500 its random

  21.  

    LegendSome is that supposed to work? are there any other suggestions? the server page still has yet to populate for me on the experimental branch

  22.  
      almond_stash

    I actually feel quite honoured that you think I’m Garry XD
    But honestly you should Fuck right off if you’re not going to give the developers any credit

  23.  
      zeromercy500

    Im really impressed as to what you are working towards, this game has made a lot of progress since it was first released. Im really excited for this new update but one thing i was really hoping to see soon is a Overview of this new map you guys are creating. Is it bigger, is it smaller? Just give us some cool details like that aswell.    -Thanks

  24.  
      CajunX

    Please remove comments.

  25.  
      CaioBlankZenon

    WesleyPreteSantos  HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE HEAFAEFHAEFHAFEAFE

    ME DA ARLA DE INGRES PELO AMR DE JEOVA

  26.  
      WesleyPreteSantos

    I’m very happy with what you are producing, and serteza’s not just me that I’m proud that the heart

    estou muito feliz com o que vocês estão produzindo,e com serteza não sou apenas eu que estou com esse orgulho no coração

    i an brazilian

  27.  
      zedmelon

    People saying this is slow progress? This is amazing what they do every week This is great progress Be patient im sure the final product is going to be epic. Its a long way to go just hang in there my fellow rust players it will be worth it

  28.  
      IlmorTech

    I don’t understand half this stuff, but its cool reading and obviously you guys are doing a lot of work!

  29.  
      LegendSome

    Have yoy tried to restart your PC?

  30.  
      Constantin777

    moygstar In the old base game i have on GOOD settings 20FPS and without grass 30FPS. STOP LYING ABOUT OPTIMISATION IN EXPEREMENTAL SERVER!

  31.  
      Constantin777

    moygstar ON THE FASTEST SETTINGS I HAVE 10-14 FPS!!! NICE OPTIMISATION!

  32.  
      Constantin777

    moygstar I have also laptop Intel® Core™ i7 8GB RAM  GeForce 630m 2GB and on BEAUTIFUL settings I have7-10FPS!!! ON EXPEREMENTAL SERVER.STOP LYING ABOUT OPTIMISATION.  Nice try Garry ;-Р

  33.  
      moygstar

    It’s funny with all of these people complaining their asses off- YES, we all paid money for this game, but when we purchased it we we’re told time after time that the game could change, it said it every time you start rust… So stop whinging about slow development, would have you preferred the exact same base game, just minor monthly updates to prevent the hacking problem it is having at the moment, along with the huugee netcode issues that triggered this whole movement, OR would you like to wait a year, for them to build a game FROM SCRATCH basically, that will be 10x more enjoyable and immersive- I have a dual-core on a laptop, I get 20 FPS on lowest settings on Base build, but on the experimental branch, already i can run it on HIGH settings and get 50-70 FPS- I find this optimisation and game engine development comparable to Skyrim, and they definitely didn’t make Skyrim in 6 months did they…
          Just be patient like the rest of us and I’m sure Garry will enlighten us all :D
                    -Moygs

  34.  
      Constantin777

    almond_stash nice try Garry) And now You can go on doing nothing. And then at the end of the week to put beautiful pictures with empty promises..

  35.  
      almond_stash

    A lot of people seem to think that just because they’ve put money into a game, it’s going to be finished quicker. Well I’m sorry to say guys, but no matter how much money Garry’s got, it’s not going to mean the game will be finished in the next couple of months. I actually prefer it taking this long and I’m not expecting a full version for a couple of years, just going along with the development of a new game is exciting enough. Please, do not try to rush Garry or any of the programmers or such, just let them make this game. That said, its good to keep suggesting useful stuff :)
    The game is looking amazing already :) Cant wait to see what this game will turn into!

  36.  
      Constantin777

    Another list of beautiful promises. But half a year has passed and On an experimental server only walls and foundations, even without textures. Pace through the year you make the boxes (without textures) or just say that they could not make the game because the cat was pregnant. But received more than 20 million dollars for an empty promise it’s okay.P.s.Sorry for my bad English is not my language

  37.  
      JonathanTCrane

    You should give it a back story. You should also let it take place not on an island.

  38.  
      DreamTyson

    Will the new version of Rust be PC friendly soon? As of right now I can’t get a decent frame rate although I could in the old version by turning things off.

  39.  
      KostasMoustakas

    just make more aggressive thinks in game for the reson of co-op…

  40.  
      CodyGrothe

    abubrooklyn davidxbox22 You wasted your money on that mac garbage LOL. you have no brain obviously.

  41.  
      MatthewBruun

    I love the game so far only issue Is i’ll play for 7 hours build a house then when I go to play again wake up naked in a field because c4 and murdered in my sleep lol. Happens every time kinda made me not want to play anymore. Anyways for the most part a fun game I’m a little excited about the new stuff. Cheers

  42.  
      Bryen123456

    Hello. I am a huge fan of rust. Epic game and hope it will stay that way. What I do want to ask though is why the cars were taken out of the game/why you cannot know drive the cars. I think that it would be a great thing to see cars back in the game. I know I would love it. Please add cars back into the game and make then drivable. Bryen.

  43.  
      Jerakal

    Looking awesome dude.  Very much looking forward to seeing the legacy build become obsolete here in the coming weeks.

  44.  
      vincenzon888

    LOL U JELLY NETHER, UNTURNED, 7 DAYS TO DIE?

  45.  
      abubrooklyn

    davidxbox22 abubrooklyn thank you for your helpful and insightful commentary.   No one has ever told me this before!

  46.  
      davidxbox22

    abubrooklyn thats why u dont buy macs for gaming just saying. mac are bad for game. but great for work or casual stuff

  47.  
      FlatronEZ

    Northern Biome looks sick, can’t wait to play ;)

  48.  
      thatwhiteboy98

    FZeroRacer i was thinking the same thing, like you could choose what angle you wanted it at up to a certain point so that it stays reaistic

  49.  
      iZombiePK

    BrettPool Grow up? Because I don’t enjoy losing everything to hackers every single day, every hour? I don’t get it.

  50.  
      abubrooklyn

    why doesn’t this work on macs?  the lag and stutter is impossible, I can’t even adjust the settings to reduce them, that is if I’m even able to log on to a server.  I really hope this Rust Reboot doesn’t end up being something that doesn’t work on my computer.

  51.  
      grenzor

    robinjohansson420 ask someone to hit u with a pickaxe. lets see how much hit you will take.

  52.  

    when i try to get on to the experimental game, i get no servers and therefore i cant get into the game…. anyone have an idea why that may be?

  53.  
      SamiVandersexx

    <3 <3 <3 <3

  54.  
      AaronWaller

    the Northern Biome and the caves look intense!!!!! Cant wait for this – easily my favorite multiplayer game of all time! I was bored of gaming until Rust!!!!! Keep up the good work :)
    Include some form of transport <3

  55.  
      danielmathisen

    I have to admit, when the pace of the legacy version more or less came to a halt I lost interest in Rust. But recently, with the incredibly work on the updated client, the game feels thrilling again. Can’t wait for the upcoming weeks.

  56.  
      lipeng

    就没有中国的留言么

  57.  
      Drunken_Master

    I love RUST and I hope it will not be long until the next major update. thank you for this magnificent game

  58.  
      buckstar0301

    They often read comments.

  59.  
      RootBeerMan Original

    mrstarboss If you’re having that problem just press command+shift+g and then type in ~/Library/Application Support/Steam/SteamApps/common/Rust. Delete everything in that folder. Now go to your steam library and right click (control+click)  Rust and click delete. Right click Rust again and go to properties, then click on betas, and click the button that say NONE – Opt out of all beta programs and click on the experimental branch. Hope this helps!

  60.  
      mrstarboss

    if they made service free to download developers would make plugins easier similar to what minecraft that game doesn’t even have a anti cheat

  61.  
      Tore Niebuhr

    I can’t play the experimental with my lousy macbook, but I read the posts every friday. Keep up the good work, and the great humor. This game may be the reason for me to get a new machine.

  62.  
      Enrodi

    When I try to connect to NA 4 official server I keep on getting the error “Failed To Connect (AlreadyConnectedToAnotherServer)” it’s really annoying if anyone knows a fix please share it with me

  63.  
      MertKulak3

    BrettPool he is right,when some people jumps to your tower’s 15th floor with hacks and kills you with a shotgun,you have a instant urge to delete rust

  64.  
      robinjohansson420

    fix the damn pickaxe, 2 hits. it just so fucking bullshit

  65.  
      PazzHD

    Thank you for the great Game and the great Updates.
    You are the best Guys!

  66.  
      DanielRangel

    Excelente actualizacion, Recluto gente para jugar rust

    Agreguenme en steam: ceronida

  67.  
      StanislavRaykov

    davidxbox22 LoL hahah Retard :) its enough to have 1 hacker in the server to make a mess to all players in it.
    And when i call hackers i mean – They flying , superspeed, 1kill shot ,…etc.
    So go drink your milk and go to sleep ! Little bastard

  68.  
      rambo070

    DjackWarflow + mantle support

  69.  
      rambo070

    friteestbete releasing servers for everyone doesn’t make sense when the game has not much more then some walls 1 gun a bow and a knife…

  70.  
      Eli952

    Hey Dev’s, I’d like to personally say thank you for keeping up the hard work for us players, no one is binding you to do this and I personally thank you for this work. The game is gonna be a whole lot better than the already awesome baseline one, and I cannot wait for the grand re-release of this legend of a game. Take your time and keep up your work! :) :)

  71.  

    Wow. It’s coming together!

  72.  
      knotzi

    RootbeerGoat  If someone puts down a foundation, they could build a trap door to attach to it which in turn would allow you to go beneath the space and the space would be as big as the foundation…It’d be pretty sweet I think.  Others could build below to maybe attempt to tunnel into someone elses basements, idk

  73.  
      atfstryfe

    davidxbox22 StanislavRaykov Bra3as I agree, I admin’d on 3 servers since the game was out and only saw legitimate hacking 4 or 5 times.  one was so obvious as he was flying thru the sky getting hs kills at 400m with a 250m range weapon… another one was I built a house about 20 mins run from the road and the next day it was raided — server had about 15-20 unique players on it… no one is going to randomly head 20 mins out and find my house that fast… imo at least …. I also had a guy that was shooting me over and over while i was trying to watch hackers and wearing invisible armor… there is a radar program out there and per their own forums/site they have sold 50k+ copies of their hack. its a monthly subscription so maybe they are counting months not individual users – who knows…. but most people called hackers are not hacking – someone just got owned and screamed hack in anger…

  74.  
      friteestbete

    If you were to release server, for everyone (not only provider this time), i’m sure you’ll get more data and feedback (and interesting one related to a classic server.

  75.  
      RootbeerGoat

    Basements would be amazing. Think about how awesome trap doors would be! Instead of losing all of your shit, you gain a prisoner! Or a corpse if you just put spikes down there….Basements people?

  76.  
      knotzi

    Add a basement!

  77.  
      davidxbox22

    GorkiEsengol sbmercury just time use ur brain dont buy a pre alpha game man you kids get dumber and dumber. to many fucking idiots its pre ALPHA its gonna take time no shit.

  78.  
      davidxbox22

    StanislavRaykov Bra3as this is like 1 out of 1 million hackers you run into. so no its not that big of a problem at all. i bet you noobs just get owned and call them hackers like90% of noobs do. i been playing for a long time only run into 2 hackers so far. you guys just full of shit.

  79.  
      Codelite

    garry we need to still alive, we need field for farm, like Harvest moon or minecraft, then someone will coming for stealing our field. im sorry for my bad english :)

  80.  
      DjackWarflow

    Need Unity 5

  81.  
      AloneBoss

    You are genius

  82.  
      BrettPool

    Havent played legacy in quit a while, but i check this every friday, all the rust i need a week until Rust Pro comes out.

  83.  
      BrettPool

    Grow up

  84.  
      RichardBergstrom

    utilitron RichardBergstrom No of course we don’t know. New versions, especially major new versions, can work completely different. I had to throw out half my VBA code when Excel upgraded to 2010.

  85.  
      utilitron

    RichardBergstrom Of course we know. Unity5 isn’t some foreign entity. Its the next progression of unity. Although there may be some changes they have to make, the basic structure will work. That is just how versioning works in software development.

  86.  
      StanislavRaykov

    Bra3as
    As i said the game have a great potential to become really good survival game but the Fucking Cheaters is the MAIN PROBLEM . And Garry must focus on that if he want to keep his players in the game

  87.  
      oulivas

    Is there a way to give ideas for developpers?

  88.  
      herolief

    “like half the people cant play experimental cuz there is a bug and it cant be fixed”
    Except it can be fixed, and pushing their progress to the master branch will mean everyone can’t play it. This is why it’s experimental. BECAUSE IT’S EXPERIMENTAL.

  89.  
      SethDParadine

    EdwinPalenstijn Just give it a few days it happens to me at times. The more you miss the more you will be surprised with when you can connect.

  90.  
      LachlanAnderson

    TheInfusedNZ omg lol i love you’re videos im joining wolfcreek now

  91.  
      TheInfusedNZ

    New series out now:

  92.  
      blackarm_org

    Slanted buildings was the trippiest thing I have ever seen. I was running down a mountain and fell into a building on the side of it with slanted walls… it was so weird. very cool, but weird.

  93.  
      iZombiePK

    Every time I start to load Rust to see changes, I remember the hackers and uninstall again. :(

  94.  
      FZeroRacer

    I think my suggestion for foundations would be to have angle limitations for objects based on the foundation or location, and the ability to turn on/off orientated versus flat. This would allow for a greater variety of building while also not breaking the game too hard (like potentially a house on the side of a cliff where you could get stuck).
     For example if a player wanted to build a ladder or something up a mountain, you could use a series of foundations oriented to the mountain, with the angle of the foundation dictating what you could build. It’s not an easy problem to solve though especially with procedural terrain.

  95.  
      Hepopotan

    I cannot play without turning my antivirus off (BullGuard), could you look into it? Also, I have a bug that makes the loot inventory appear at the bottom left of my screen, I can only access the top 3 rows. Finally. can you increase the distance I can see another play at, please?

  96.  
      mijit88

    calexxama they can do it somehow, CSGO does not let you change gamma of the game…

  97.  
      ThatHeath

    So glad I bought this game already to support this progression.

  98.  
      bauderlj

    Alright, so about the walls vs blocks thing. I think it’s up to you guys, but my suggestion is to just set everybody on the dev team down in front of a whiteboard and brainstorm options, then work out the pros and cons. Then the solution is evident.

  99.  
      Kwolfe

    I think you went wrong when you bought a Mac…

  100.  
      FernandoBracci

    VERY, VERY IMPORTANT THING IS MAKE THATH GENERATORS WORK! I HAVE SOME ELECTRICITY WORKING WITH LOW GRADE FUEL, AND SOME PERMANENT LIGHT

  101.  
      iDogee

    Every week I see these awesome updates, I get even more erect.

  102.  
      GorkiEsengol

    WHEN W,LL THİS COME OUT FFS BEEN TO LONG

  103.  
      sbmercury

    GorkiEsengol Have you ever tried remaking a game? Give them time, an entire remake will take a while. They’re doing very well.

  104.  
      jlukerobi

    Amazing work!  I love reading this blog every week!

  105.  
      depaepejulian

    Garry Newman also are you not admin of your own site LOL

  106.  
      Pickstar

    Go to a modded server, a lot of the modded ones have teleporting

  107.  
      calexxama

    well, is there a way to fix the gama abuse? becasue i miss seing peoples with flashlights or torches…. now everyone puts the gama up and stays the night like it was the day….. please try to fixe that up ;)

  108.  
      Intersion

    Why I can’t play deer animation video? On this web page.

  109.  
      IsraelSalazar

    REALEASE THIS NOW! IM HORNY MY PENIS IS GOING TO BLOW UP

  110.  
      atfstryfe

    Nickdim7 i often found ways of making caves in the old rust or finding spots where 3/4 of the house was rock walls.

  111.  
      deafjimmy

    Are there any plans to fix the problems with BitDefender? As of the moment I can’t play the experimental at all because of that problem :(

  112.  
      Homer_MG

    OMG! I thought the first picture was of a CITY! Then it wasn’t. Game is turning out to be something I didn’t wanted to… hope you keep legacy going on for a long time…

  113.  
      DanInSpace

    I’m a bit uneasy about the slanted foundations… as long as there will be a way to build level it’ll be fine.

  114.  
      Altaros

    i hope they gone make a system which could help us to play with friends ( its boring to search our friends everytime we wan’t to play… )

  115.  
      Altaros

    it gone be amazing but i can’t join server (or it is down everytime… )

  116.  
      MichaelMcLind

    For some reason after the last few days additions to the dev branch, I cannot connect to the servers now. Just says disconnected after a bit.

  117.  
      mcpunkergamez

    Dayum this wil become awesome! i like to build a base :P
    Is it possible to build in a cave?

  118.  
      Rusty Planner

    thanks for the reply. I think it would be kind of fun having dead players knocking at your door. Maybe people would cooperate more, and go back killing their neighbours when it is safe.
    Anyways you can tell how hard time the developers must have trying to please us all

  119.  
      combatpvp

    When will there be more servers for the build? Lots of us are getting very tired of playing the old build.

  120.  
      Rusty Planner

    yeah, lots of hacker

  121.  
      rustnuts

    JesseSmyser same

  122.  
      rustnuts

    this new update make me happy !

  123.  
      rustnuts

    a new concept art

  124.  
      rustnuts

    new character models

  125.  
      rustnuts

    infectedgoat9 rustyballs

  126.  
      rustnuts

    JackNardz

  127.  
      rustnuts

    cnoempathyg

  128.  
      rustnuts

    cnoempathyg

  129.  
      rustnuts

    RaMatheron hi look at my concept arts

  130.  
      rustnuts

    RaMatheron hi look at my concept art

  131.  
      rustnuts

    tehroq Rusty Planner

  132.  
      rustnuts

    hi i made a fan art look

  133.  
      rustnuts

    infectedgoat9 rustyballs

  134.  
      rustnuts

    zer0t3ch Toriniku

  135.  
      rustnuts

    Jpux

  136.  
      rustnuts

    pvtcrawley

  137.  
      rustnuts

    JeremyYanowitz

  138.  
      rustnuts

    ParalyZe ok

  139.  
      rustnuts

    Toriniku betrayal penis

  140.  
      rustnuts

    davidxbox22 hi

  141.  
      rustnuts

    JackNardz

  142.  
      rustnuts

    cnoempathyg

  143.  
      rustnuts

    cnoempathyg

  144.  
      rustnuts

    deafjimmy

  145.  
      rustnuts

    Littletron Zero Fox FK

  146.  
      rustnuts

    Zero Fox FK

  147.  
      rustnuts

    KeksDose

  148.  
      rustnuts

    kirill96_krg

  149.  
      rustnuts

    checkseven

  150.  
      rustnuts

    denis12230

  151.  
      rustnuts

    zer0t3ch kirill96_krg

  152.  
      rustnuts

    Zero Fox FK KeksDose

  153.  
      rustnuts

    Daviixx3

  154.  
      rustnuts

    KingOfHell

  155.  
      rustnuts

    PainDesPisses

  156.  
      rustnuts

    RaMatheron

  157.  
      rustnuts

    JadenKreger

  158.  
      rustnuts

    Stalinavgn

  159.  
      rustnuts

    Littletron Gustavo Reis

  160.  
      rustnuts

    Gustavo Reis Littletron

  161.  
      rustnuts

    Gustavo Reis

  162.  
      rustnuts

    Nobrainer

  163.  
      rustnuts

    lady113

  164.  
      rustnuts

    HrvojeTurudic

  165.  
      rustnuts

    razredeyes

  166.  
      rustnuts

    Nickdim7

  167.  
      rustnuts

    razredeyes

  168.  
      rustnuts

    Rusty Planner

  169.  
      rustnuts

    Ultima Glow

  170.  
      rustnuts

    GorkiEsengol

  171.  
      rustnuts

    IISkullsII

  172.  
      rustnuts

    StanislavRaykov

  173.  
      rustnuts

    ZeuX

  174.  
      rustnuts

    The Toast

  175.  
      rustnuts

    EdwinPalenstijn

  176.  
      rustnuts

    tehroq

  177.  
      rustnuts

    JesseSmyser

  178.  
      rustnuts

    Codelite

  179.  
      rustnuts

    AlexanderDM

  180.  
      rustnuts

    Joao Melim

  181.  
      rustnuts

    AppealPlay

  182.  
      rustnuts

    Codelite

  183.  
      rustnuts

    I wake up the next morning to an ear-splitting squeal.
    It takes me a few seconds to wake myself up completely, and Ryan stirs underneath me.
    There’s another squeal/scream/gasp thing, along with my name being said in a harsh tone, and I crane my head, eyes half-lidded, to see my fourteen year old cousin, Amber standing at the end of my bed, eyes wide with shock and disgust as she looks between me and Ryan, naked on my bed, to the used condom lying on the floor.
    “Brendon!” she says again, at such a loud pitch that it actually murders my eardrums a bit.
    Then I realize… “Shit!” I curse under my breath, face burning red as I quickly yank the blanket up past my exposed ass all the way to my chin. “Amber! Fuck! What are you doing in here?!” I demand, voice squeaking in embarrassment.
    Ryan’s eyes flutter open, and he yawns, looking up at my beet red face before turning to look over at my cousin, still standing there like she’s just seen the devil.
    “Brendon!” she cries once again, and yes, I get it. Her eyes drift down to the condom, and she’s seriously like, two seconds from fainting. “Is th-that… is that what I think it is?” And eff, this girl is supposed to be fourteen, not eight.
    “Amber…” I start, attempting to hush her as my eyes dart towards the open door. Just, oh my god, seriously, this is so not happening right now.
    “I’m telling your mom!” she threatens, dashing towards the door.
    “She already knows,” I shoot back, and Ryan’s still lying beside me, silent, like, shitshitshitshitshit. I feel somewhere about the same.
    She stops, completely dead, and her eyes grow even larger. “WHAT?!” she demands, and really, I didn’t know it was possible for someone’s voice to get so high. I flinch. “You mean… Auntie knows you two… do that,” she starts, disgusted, and she even throughs in a shudder for effect, “and she doesn’t care? She doesn’t care that it’s a sin and you’re going straight to hell?!”
    I blink at her, resisting the urge to chuck my twenty-five pound lamp at her stupid head. She’s always been a little brat. “No, she doesn’t. Now, can you please leave my room?”
    “B-But – ” she splutters.
    “What’s going on guys?” My mom asks, entering the room behind a white-faced Amber. Then, to make the whole situation even better, my dad comes squeezing in behind my mom, and of course, the first thing his eyes land on is the condom.
    God, remind me to never listen to Ryan again.
    I don’t really wait to see any of their reactions (especially my dads, cause I’m sure I have a pretty good idea) before pulling the covers all the way over mine and Ryan’s head. “Oh my god, get out! All of you!” I cry, absolutely mortified.
    “Brendon said you don’t care about… this!” Amber’s whiney voice cries to my mother, and just seriously, the words sex, Amber, stop acting three and use it.

  184.  
      rustnuts

    There’s complete silence and I just want to die. The thought barely crosses my mind that on the Brightside, at least it was only Amber and my parents, and not like, my ninety-three year old grandmother to walk in and see it, but then that thoughts stopped short as my grandma’s voice comes from somewhere by my door. “Oh! There you are, Grace!”
    I groan, out loud, and why am I not dead?
    “Okay, everyone out of Brendon’s room!” My mom instantly says, shoving everyone out of my room and into the hall. “The boys are trying to sleep,” she lies.
    “Auntie – ” Amber protests, but the door shuts with a loud snap.
    Ryan and I are absolutely silent, covers still pulled over our heads. I’m pretty sure I’m never going to leave. I’m going to stay here, under the covers, for the rest of my poor, pathetic life.
    “Oh my… as if that just happened.” Ryan eventually says, and he sounds like he’s going to burst out in tears.
    I don’t blame him; I’m on the verge of tears myself.
    “Fucking hell!” I cry, pressing my face into his bare shoulder. “My cousin just saw my ass!”
    “You’re cousin just saw my come in a condom! And probably my fucking dick. Ass is nothing in comparison, really Brendon,” he snaps.
    “Oh my god,” I groan into his shoulder, because yeah, this is true.
    He hits me in the shoulder, and I roll my eyes, because seriously, Ryan, seriously?
    We eventually pull ourselves out of bed, and the first thing we do is grab the condom and throw it in the trash, burying it under layers upon layers of Kleenexes before we get dressed and go downstairs. At first, we grip onto each other for dear life, but then we figure it’d probably be smart if we stayed at least a ten foot radius from each other for a bit, especially since my whole family probably now knows we have gay sex with each other.
    However, once we get downstairs, I’m surprised to see Amber didn’t open her big fat mouth and tell everyone about how we totally banged last night in my room with my previously mentioned, ninety-three year old grandma sleeping in the next room.
    My mom does end up pulling us to the side at some point, eyes narrowed. “Don’t you guys ever do that again!” she demands, and whoa, she actually looks pissed. “You’re whole family was sleeping in this house last night, Brendon, how stupid can you be?! I suggest you keep your hands to yourself until everyone’s gone.” Then with one last, completely serious, threatening look she walks away.
    Whoa.
    Ryan covers his face with his hands, and whines.
    I pat his back.
    – – –
    The next day at school, everyone’s buzzing with news from the long weekend, and how they went to this party, and hooked up with this person, and bought this and that at the mall. And I’m kind of like, yeah, besides me and Jon’s BFF night, I’d like to forget about everything from the weekend, thank you very much.
    At lunch, Spencer mentions going to a movie on Thursday, and to our complete and utter surprise, Ryan agrees to come. “Sure, sounds good.” He smiles, and Spencer just beams. Which only makes me and Jon smile, and then we’re all sitting there, smiling like idiots.
    I like this. There’s no fighting – not between me or Ryan, or Spencer or Ryan, or anyone – there’s also no Dayna, which is a reason to celebrate all on its own (Okay, well, she’s still there, and Ryan’s still all, Ooooh, Dayna, my BFF! But at least she’s not everywhere I turn, or you know, at my house).

  185.  
      rustnuts

    However, all the peace and quiet and just goodness is ruined on Thursday at lunch, when Ryan goes all calm and nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal at all, “I won’t be able to make the movie tonight, I’m going to youth group at that church with Dayna.”
    We all fall silent, and stare at Ryan. Then I think, wait, why are we even shocked?
    At first, Ryan just runs his fork through his food, completely oblivious to the fact that we’re all staring at him like, wow, you really are a big, douche bag prick. Then he looks up, sees us, and gives us this half-hearted, fake apologetic shrug. “Sorry guys, but we can go to a movie anytime, right?”
    Um, no.
    “You can also hang out with Dayna anytime,” Spencer hisses, and I swear, when he says the bitches name his nostrils flare, steam comes out of his ears, his eyes turns red and he spits out pure venom. “Which you do, if you haven’t noticed.”
    Ryan scoffs, and rolls his eyes, like he just can’t even bother listening to Spencer talk. “Whatever, Spence. Get over it.”
    That must be it for Spencer, because he’s slamming his fist down against the table, so loud and hard it makes us all jump in our seats a little. Well, except Ryan who just stares back at him, eyes narrowed.
    “What the fuck is your goddamn problem lately, Ryan? Whatever happened to us being best friends? I mean, we have been since we were fucking five years old and all,” he snaps. “Tell me what’s so fucking great about that little fucking princess of yours Dayna that you have to ditch me and your fucking boyfriend for?”
    “You’re so jealous,” Ryan accuses, and he smirks. Actually smirks! “You always have been.”
    Spencer stares at him, mouth open, and he just shakes his head, slow. “Wow…”
    “See,” Ryan sneers with nose in the fucking air, “you don’t even have anything to say.”
    All three of us just stare at him, completely shocked. I mean wtf?
    “You know what, Ross?” Spencer hisses, getting up from his chair with Jon quickly joining. “Fuck you, and have a nice fucking life with your precious, little Dayna. Don’t come crying to me when you realize what a backstabbing bitch she really is.”
    Ryan just rolls his eyes, and looks away. “Whatever.”
    That’s it for me too, and I’m standing with them. Ryan looks up at me, confused. “Wh – ”
    I just shake my head, and without a word I follow Spencer and Jon out of the cafeteria, leaving Ryan to sit there, alone.
    – – –
    After school, Ryan acts like nothing happened.
    He comes up behind me at my locker, wraps his arms around my waist and presses a kiss to my neck. “Hey,” he purrs, all happy and bubbly.
    I turn to face him, and scowl. “What?” I sneer.
    His smile falters, and he drops his hands from my waist. “You’re not still mad about lunch, are you?” he asks, scrunching his face up together.
    I shake my head, mutter ‘unbelievable’ under my breath, and slam my locker shut before heading off down the hallway.
    He follows close behind, not giving up. “Brennnn,” he whines, grabbing onto my hand.
    I yank it away.
    He sighs. “Come on, it’s between me and Spence. It shouldn’t affect us.”
    “I’m sorry I’m pissed cause my boyfriends a fucking bitch,” I snap.
    But, nope, this doesn’t stop him either, his face doesn’t even drop, he just follows on my tail, tugging at my shirt sleeve. “Brenny…”
    I ignore him, and head down the staircase to the parking lot doors.
    “We live in the same house, and sleep in the same bed, and I’m driving us home,” he points out. “You can’t just ignore me forever.”

  186.  
      rustnuts

    He has a point, but I ignore him anyways as I reluctantly get into the passenger seat. He tries to talk to me during the ride home, but I don’t reply. He just sighs, and groans, and makes stupid, annoying noises.
    I have no sympathy.
    When we get home, I go downstairs and watch TV and he stays upstairs and does whatever. My guess something that has to do with that stupid Dayna girl.
    At six, I am forced to go up to my room to get ready for the movie. And sure enough, Ryan’s lying on our bed, cell phone to his ear. I don’t have to hear what he’s saying to know its Dayna, I mean; it’s obviously not Spencer or Jon.
    I scowl at him.
    “Okay, I gotta go,” he says into the phone. “I’ll be there at six-thirty, okay? Okay, bye.” He snaps his phone shut, and looks up at me, with this like, obviously sucking-up, sweet face on.
    I start digging through my closet. I decide I need something slutty, because it wouldn’t be a bad idea to find another guy before Ryan dumps me for Dayna, because by the looks of it, he probably will. Then again, I could always call Ethan up. I’m sure he’d go for it when the time comes.
    I stop, and brush the whole thought from my head because I’m seconds from crying.
    “You know, I really want you to come to youth group with me tonight, Bren,” he says from the bed.
    I grab onto my very tightest pair of black jeans. “I’m going to a movie,” I grumble, back turned all the way to him, “remember?”
    “Bren.” He sighs. “You can go to a movie anytime. I really want you to be there, it’s important to me,” he pleads, batting his brown eyes up at me when I turn to the dresser to find a slutty shirt to accompany my slutty jeans.
    I snort, because really, does he honestly think I care what’s important to him at the moment? “You have Dayna to go with you.”
    “I know, but I want you to come too,” he says, pulling himself up from the bed to head over to me.
    “I’d go if she wasn’t.”
    “Brendon!” he cries in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air and stomping his foot against the ground. “Can you please just get over whatever it is that you have against Dayna? You don’t even have a valid reason as to why you hate her.”

  187.  
      rustnuts

    “I don’t have to,” I reply, digging out Ryan’s tight, red v-neck t-shirt from the drawer. Yes, definitely slutty enough. “I just don’t trust her.”
    “Well, get over it.”
    “You’re a bitch,” I say, turning to stare at him, plain and simple before I pull my t-shirt over my head and slip the new one on.
    He snaps his mouth shut, presses his lips together in a thin, tight line and doesn’t say anything to defend himself – because, well, it’s true and he knows it.
    “You’d think, seeing as I’m your boyfriend and everything, that you’d ask me to go with you before her, but you know, whatever.” I shrug, unzipping my jeans. “You obviously care more about her than anyone right now, so…”
    “Brendon, Christ!”
    “Ryan!” I fake gasp, just because I want to get under his skin. “Don’t use the Lords name in vain!”
    He scowls.
    I smirk as I kick my jeans off, and begin the long process of getting my super slutty, tight jeans on.
    Ryan doesn’t say anything else as I pull my jeans on, the whole thing taking about five minutes before they’re finally on completely. I grab onto my wallet sitting on my desk, and head to my door without a kiss, or a hug, let alone even a goodbye.
    Just before I close the door behind me, I turn to him, where he’s still standing by my dresser, staring at the ground. “Oh, by the way,” I start. He looks up at me, eyes wide with hope, “Dr. Bernstein called and we’re negative. So there, I guess I’m not as skanky as you thought I was.”
    I slam the door on his face before he has a chance to reply.
    – – –
    When I get to Jon’s, Spencer’s already there, but then again, that’s not really a surprise because when is he not there?
    They’re sitting on Jon’s bed, and the surprising thing is, the doors wide open and their not making out or doing anything else that would forever scar my brain. Instead, their cuddled together, both dressed in sweatpants and baggy sweaters, with Spencer’s head rested on Jon’s strong shoulder, as he pets his messy hair comfortingly.
    They both look up at the same time, sad expressions not changing.
    “Hi,” Jon greets softly.
    I give a forced smile, and sit down at the foot of his bed, across from them. “What’s going on?” I ask, noting Spencer’s red nose and swollen eyes.
    Jon gives me a look like, what do you think? Before replying with, “Your boyfriend.”

  188.  
      rustnuts

    “Oh, right,” I mumble. “‘Course.”
    I rub my temple, and shut my eyes. All of this is just getting stupid. Everything was fine before Dayna came around (Well… for the most part anyway) She just needs to be shoved off a very tall cliff so we can all go back to peace and harmony.
    “I’m done,” Spencer finally murmurs into Jon’s shoulder as he looks up at me with heartbroken eyes. “I can’t do it anymore.”
    I nod, because I don’t think I really blame him.
    “Ryan and Spence got in another fight last period,” Jon explains to me, as Spencer rubs his nose into Jon’s baggy sweater. “Ryan said some really mean things.”
    Yeah, of course he did.
    “I just don’t get what’s wrong with him lately,” Spencer says, voice cracking. “What did I do?”
    I shake my head, and sigh. “I don’t think you did anything.”
    Spencer bites his lip, and tears well up in his eyes. “I don’t understand. We’ve been best friends forever, and now all of a sudden… he hates me.”
    I open my mouth to say something like, ‘he doesn’t hate you’ but I know it really won’t help much at the moment, so I keep my mouth shut, and send him a sympathetic look.
    He sighs, and Jon presses a long kiss to his temple.
    “I don’t know what’s going on with him lately either,” I say, picking up Jon’s ragged teddy bear. “One moment he’s all good and… normal, and the next moment he’s this huge, raging bitch.”
    Spencer nods. “Yeah…” He sniffs, and wipes under his running nose.
    “So… we were thinking maybe we’d skip the movie tonight,” Jon says, carefully. “I mean, you can stay here and everything, we’re not kicking you out, we want you to stay. I just – well, Spencer’s obviously not in the mood.”
    I nod. “No, I understand. That’s fine. I don’t mind hanging out here.”
    Spencer sends me a soft smile, sticks out his leg to lightly nudge me with his foot as he goes, “You know, Brendon, you’re actually not as bad as I thought.”
    I grab at his ankle, squeezing lightly, and I totally mean it as I reply with a small, genuine smile, “Ditto.”
    – – –
    I get home before Ryan, so pretty much the second I get home; I go up to my room, strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed, deep under the covers.
    I’m half asleep when Ryan comes crawling in, and curls up next to me, whispering, “I love you,” into my ear.
    He smells like perfume.

  189.  
      rustnuts

    By the time morning rolls around, I’m exhausted – and in more ways than one. Besides the obvious reason that I doubt I slept for even a solid hour, it’s just, well, Ryan.
    It’s like; I don’t even know what to do anymore. A part of me is telling me that maybe it’s time to just end it with him. But the other (big) part of me knows that doing that would pretty much be impossible. I mean, no Ryan? I couldn’t do it. Sure, he can be a dick, and he seems to be about seventy-five percent of the time lately, but what about the other like, twenty-five percent? He’s still the boy that I fell head-over-heels, crazy-obsessed in love with, right?
    Right.
    But then comes the fact that I’m now almost positive that he’s cheating on me with Dayna (See, I’m so exhausted that I can’t even come up with a nasty name to call her).
    I’m up, at least, a good forty-five minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off. Ryan’s stretched out beside me with his leg slung over mine, breath loud and steady. At first, I run my eyes over his face, from his closed eyes, and long eyelashes sweeping over his creamy cheeks, to his thin, chapped lips partly open. I eventually have to look away because it hurts too much.
    When the alarm finally goes off, the first thing Ryan does once he’s awake is send a sleepy smile up at me, then press a lazy kiss to my lips. I don’t stop him, but I don’t kiss him back either.
    “Morning,” he murmurs, head falling back against the pillow.
    “Yeah,” I mumble, because I really don’t have the energy to say anything else.
    He bites his lip, and looks me over. I can’t tell what the expression on his face is, but I wouldn’t doubt if it was all guilt.
    We get ready in silence. Ryan doesn’t even try to talk to me, and I still can’t decide if it’s because of guilt or he knows that I’m still mad at him for ditching us and just finally gave up trying to get me to talk to him. I really, really hope it’s the latter.

  190.  
      rustnuts

    Once we get to the school, we almost immediately go in separate directions, only mumbling a quick, half-hearted goodbye. It feels like something is tugging on my heart, and I’m really starting to think that this is the end of our relationship.
    A few people look at me as I walk down the hall, but I just shrug it off, figuring I’m just being paranoid and imagining it. Or maybe, they do it all the time and I just never noticed.
    However, by the time I go to my locker and head off to homeroom, a few people turn into almost everyone I pass. They all stop and stare, and whisper and giggle. I try to tell myself that it’s just about me and Ryan being together, that they still haven’t gotten over it after all these weeks. I go without much success, because I know everyone did move on. It’s high school, teenagers don’t hang onto one thing for very long, no matter if it’s gossip or clothes or even friends.
    By the end of first class, nothing changes, if anything it gets worse. On my way to second class, this lowlife, scrawny, drug-addicted loser who I don’t know (and really could care less) the name of, chucks a penny at my chest and goes, “Hey faggot, here’s a penny, get down on your knees.”
    I feel my face heat up, and my throat tighten. I’m so confused as to why this is going on now, all of a sudden, that all I can really manage to come up with is a lame ‘fuck you’.
    Him and his brain-dead friends all laugh, and as they all pass by me to go to the smoker doors, a fat kid with long, string black hair pushes me back into the cold, metal locker behind me.
    This time, I keep my mouth shut because by the looks of it, this kid could probably kill me by just sitting on me.
    When I finally reach second class, I ignore the looks and whispers as best as I can as I make my way to my seat at the back of the classroom beside Jon. I breathe a sigh of relief, because it’s about time I see a friendly face, who isn’t whispering or snickering behind (okay, more like in front) of my back. However, he does give me a sympathetic look, and just as I’m about to ask him what the fuck is going on, the teacher comes in and tells everyone to be quiet.
    I try to relax as class starts, by taking long, deep breaths, but it doesn’t really go to well. My face is still burning, and my tongue feels heavy in my mouth. I can’t concentrate on anything the teacher is saying, because all that’s going through my mind is, what the fuck is going on?
    Fifteen minutes into class, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I make sure the teachers not looking before pulling it out and resting it on my lap. It’s a text from Ryan, no surprise, telling me to meet him in the basement washroom right now. I consider ignoring it completely and not going, but then I figure he must know what’s going on so I raise my hand and ask for a bathroom pass.

  191.  
      rustnuts

    When I get there, Ryan’s sitting on the dingy floor against the far wall, his thin arms wrapped around his knees, crying.
    I don’t really think as I rush over to him, fall down onto the floor beside him and wrap his arms around his shoulder, pulling him into me. And okay, really, watching Ryan Ross cry is like, watching someone kick puppies. You just have to do something.
    “Ry… sh. Ry,” I hush, threading my fingers through his thin hair. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I ask, moving my fingers from his hair, down to his wet cheek.
    He looks up at me with red eyes and a runny nose. “You don’t know?” he asks, dumbfounded.
    “Not really,” I reply, giving a half-shrug.
    He shakes his head, hiccups, and then stares down at his ratty converse sliding against the tiled floor. “There’s – there’s this rumor… about us,” he starts, and I nod for him to continue, stomach dropping, because rumors are never good, “and… well, pretty much, apparently, we both whore ourselves to support our drug addiction. And apparently we came onto people… like, some of my old guy friends from church.” He shakes his head, a single tear falling down onto his pant leg. “I just can’t believe it.”
    I just laugh. I mean, I know it’s completely inappropriate, and just not the time at all, but I mean, seriously? We’re drug addicted whores? Couldn’t they have come up with anything better? It’s just so ridiculous, that I can’t help but laugh.
    Ryan lifts his head to stare at me, forehead scrunched together in confusion, and probably a bit in anger. “Why the hell are you laughing about this, Brendon? Don’t you care that our whole reputation is ruined? This isn’t just going to go away, it’s not like anyone is going to believe us if we tell them it’s not true, they’ve already got it set in their minds. My dad’s going to hear about this, and he’s going to believe it too. I mean what the fuck? Who would even start a rumor like that?” he babbles out, face flushed and eyes flashing.
    Now it’s my turn to stare at him, and my arm just kind of drops from his shoulder, because how could he be so dumb? “Are you serious? You actually don’t know?”
    He hiccups, and shakes his head slowly, eyeing me.
    I sigh, and stare up at the ceiling before replying with, “it was you’re little friend Dayna.” So, maybe I don’t know for sure, but I really have no doubts that it was – obviously with some help from her little church friends.
    “What?! No!” he cries, absolutely mortified that I’d even think such a thing.
    I roll my eyes, and start to stand up, because fuck, he’s so dense and just. Ugh. He’s an idiot, and I’m done. Because of her my whole fucking school thinks I fuck people so I can get drugs, and he can’t even open his fucking eyes to admit it. Because of him, my whole last month of school, ever, is ruined.
    Slowly, a look of realization spreads over his face, and he stares at the wall ahead of us, face loosing any speck of color it once had in it. “Oh…” he says, and that’s all.
    I fall back down beside him, and grab onto his hand, because I have a feeling this wont be pretty.
    “Oh my…” he says again, tears welling up in his eyes again. He looks like he’s going to puke. “Oh my god.” The thought crosses my mind to scold him for saying God, but I figure now’s not really the time. “Last night…” he starts, and then stops to bite onto his lip and bury his face into the palms of his hands, “last night, after youth group, when I was driving her home… she tried to – she tried to kiss me.”
    I swear, my stomach drops all the way to my butt, the bits of my heart crashing down with it. Of course she fucking did. Now he’s going to tell me that he kissed her back, and they –
    “I stopped her,” Ryan instantly says, pulling his face from his hands to look at me with pleading eyes. “I promise I did, Brendon. The second she went to kiss me, I stopped her. I promise you. Please don’t think I did anything with her.”
    I look over his face for a moment, unsure. Ryan keeps his eyes on me the whole time, unblinking, he looks so worried, and I know he’s telling the truth. “Okay,” I say.
    He gives me a small smile of relief, and squeezes onto my hand. “Thank you,” he breathes.
    I nod. “Okay, continue with your story.”
    “Oh, right. Right,” he says, and stares back down at his feet as he continues, “When I stopped her, I thought – well, I was pretty positive she’d get mad, but… she was all calm about it and well…” he trails off, and the tears are back, streaming down his face all at once, “oh my god… she did do it, didn’t she?”
    I nod slowly, because yeah, she is a stupid, backstabbing bitch, just like I had first thought – and well, always thought.
    “B-but,” he splutters, “wh-why would she d-do that?”
    “Because, Ryan, I told you, she’s a backstabbing bitch,” I reply, sighing. I’m still exhausted, maybe even more now. My eyes feel heavy, and I just want to curl up on this gross floor and go to sleep.
    For the first time ever, he doesn’t defend her. He just stares ahead, snot and tears running down his pretty face. I don’t even know how to feel towards him right now. Should I be sympathetic? Should I be angry? Hurt? Or relieved that he finally realizes who Dayna really is?
    “I gotta – I gotta get back to class,” I say, picking myself up off the floor.
    He looks up at me with huge, scared but yet, hurt eyes. “B-but…”
    “Ryan, I have to. And so do you.”

  192.  
      rustnuts

    cant, Brendon… everyone’s talking about me… and staring at me, and laughing, and just…” He shakes his head, tears still flowing. “They probably all think I went to fuck someone in the bathroom stall for my next hit!”
    Yeah, probably.
    “I don’t know.” I sigh. “It’ll be okay,” I say, but even as the words come out of my mouth, I really don’t believe it. Not for now at least. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay? Just pretend you don’t care.”
    I leave with the image of him curled up in the dirty, dingy school bathroom, hot tears streaming down his red face.
    I choke back my own tears.
    – – –
    I’m almost surprised when Ryan shows up at our table at lunch.
    His eyes are swollen and red, and he looks absolutely wrecked. I can’t decide if I want to hold him until it all goes away, or scowl and look away because he deserves it.
    He kind of just falls down into the chair beside me, and stares at his brown paper bag, completely still.
    I don’t know what to say.
    In the span of one period, it has gotten even worse. Apparently, I brainwashed Ryan in the beginning by giving him drugs. Also, we have these incurable STD’s, including AIDS (hm, I wonder where Dayna came up with that one). It also turns out that these random jocks decided to add on by telling everyone that we also came onto them, telling them we’d let them do anything to us for five freaking bucks. So not only are we drug-addicted prostitutes, we’re also cheap ones too.
    “I talked to Dayna,” Ryan finally says, breaking the awkward silence. His voice sounds even deader than he looks. “Or, well… tried to.”
    “Oh yeah?” I grumble, fists clenching at her name. I don’t even want to hear it.
    “She just looked at me, like I was this – this… I don’t know. This disgusting bug or something, and told me she doesn’t associate with whores,” he explains, voice cracking as he continues to stare down at his unopened lunch.
    I scoff and shake my head, because wow. I look over at Spencer, who’s just sitting there, staring at Ryan, completely devoid of any emotion or pity whatsoever.
    Ryan eventually brings his eyes up to meet with Spencer’s cold ones. He takes a shaky breath, face white. “I’m so sorry, Sp -” he apologizes, voice rushed, and pleading for him to forgive him.

  193.  
      rustnuts

    Spencer puts his hand up, stopping him, and actually les out a tiny laugh of disbelief. “So, what? You think that after ditching me and being a complete and total bitch to me, for how long, what? At least a month, that you can just come crawling back to me cause you found out the hard way what we were trying to tell you all along? I told you not to come crying to me when she backstabbed you, and I meant it. I don’t deserve how you were treating me, at all, so I really have no sympathy for you. The only person I have sympathy for right now is Brendon, because now, because of you being a fucking inconsiderate asshole, he has to go through this shit. This is his last month of high school and you ruined it. He’s going to be remembered as some whore, because of you and your stupid decisions. You knew what she was like, but you just ignored it.” By the time Spencer’s done, his face is all splotchy and red, and his eyes are narrowed, flashing with anger, and just. Wow. He really is scary.
    Ryan looks as tiny as an insect by the time he’s finished. Tears are back in his eyes, and I can practically hear his heart beating from his chest from where I sit beside him. Sure, maybe Ryan deserved it, but considering everything, it was a bit harsh. He was already down; he didn’t need to be kicked too.
    Ryan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then stares back down at the table. “O-Okay,” he replies, meek and voice small.
    I grab onto his hand under the table while looking at Spencer like, was that really necessary?
    Spencer shrugs, and then stares down at his own food.
    I look over at Ryan, who is furiously wiping the tears that are falling from his eyes, then around the crowded cafeteria, where almost everyone is turned to stare at us. Laughing.
    This is officially the worst day of my life.
    – – –
    As soon as we get home, Ryan gets into his Pj’s and crawls deep under the covers of our bed. He doesn’t leave all night.
    He just lies there, and cries. I stay with him for a bit, until I cant take it anymore, and just get up and go downstairs, leaving him to cry and feel sorry for himself, alone. I still can’t decide whether I want to stay mad at him or not.
    I make sure to tell my mom as soon as she gets home of the horrors from today, before she finds out from anyone else – which really wouldn’t be a shock considering how my neighborhood talks and everything.
    She laughs too, just like me when I first found out, because yes, it is that ridiculous. “Teenagers,” she scoffs, shaking her head.
    I nod in agreement.
    She takes a moment to think this over before saying, “Wow, Ryan must be devastated. I’m sure you are to, anyone would, but I have a feeling you‘re a little stronger than he is.”
    “Mm, yeah,” I reply. “He is, and Spencer won’t even talk to him. You should‘ve heard what he said to him at lunch, he totally just blew into him, and he was already upset enough as it was.”

  194.  
      rustnuts

    She looks me over for a second with a thoughtful expression her face. She takes a moment before she grabs onto my hand, and looks me straight in the eye. “Brendon, I know it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing for the two of you lately, and I know you’re probably mad at him for getting you into all of this, but he needs you, probably more than ever. I have a feeling this is the last string, from his dad to loosing his friends, he can’t loose you too. He needs you. If you love him, you have to let it go. I’m sure he’s realized his mistakes and feels horrible for it.”
    I sigh, because she’s right. She’s always right. “I know.”
    She pats my hand, and then kind of nudges me out of my chair and towards the staircase. “It’ll be okay, Brendon, really. In a month you’ll be graduated and you wont ever have to see these kids again, at least not everyday. Everything will be forgotten.”
    I give her a soft smile, and before I go off upstairs to see Ryan, I bend down to wrap my arms around my mom’s neck. “Thanks mom, I love you,” I mumble.
    She hugs me back and says, “I love you too, Brendon.”
    When I get upstairs, of course, Ryan is still a big lump a under the covers, barely moving. I almost think he’s asleep, but when I reach the head of the bed, I see his eyes are wide open.
    He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything.
    “Hi,” I say softly.
    He blinks.
    “Move over.”
    He continues to look at me for a second, before he slowly slides himself over and opens the blanket for me to crawl in with him.
    I press up against him, and run my thumbs over his wet cheeks before pressing a tiny kiss to each one, and then one on the tip of his nose. Seeing him like this seriously breaks my heart a little with every second. “It’ll be okay,” I whisper.
    He shakes his head.
    “Yes.”
    He closes his eyes, and presses his forehead into my shoulder, his fresh tears soaking into my t-shirt.
    I don’t know how long we stay like that, pressed together with my blanket wrapped around us, up to our necks while Ryan cries, but it’s a long time, hours. I figure this whole thing is really, really shitty, but at least now, hopefully, we can put everything behind us and go back to normal, before Dayna came back into the picture and slowly began to ruin everything.
    I kiss his ear, and can’t help but shed a few tears myself.

  195.  
      rustnuts

    To my surprise, I have a fairly decent sleep that night. I figure it’s because Dayna is finally out of my life for good – at least, oh dear God, I hope she is. Ryan, on the other hand, well I’m not sure, but I do wake up to his fingers dancing down my bare back and his soft voice murmuring, “wake up, sleepyhead,” into my ear.
    However, this does not make me happy, because like I had just previously stated, for the first time in the past week, I was having a pretty decent sleep and he just had to go and ruin it – just like my life. Okay, so maybe that was a bit dramatic, but still.
    “Ugh, what?!” I whine, face buried in my pillow.
    “It’s two in the afternoon,” he says, hot breath tickling my ear as his fingers dip lower down my back, hooking into the hem of my boxers.
    I moan discontent, still a little pissed that he woke me up and turn over onto my back, scowl on my face.
    He smiles down at me, it’s small and forced and sad, but at least he tried. “Hi,” he says.

  196.  
      rustnuts

    “Hi.” I am still not happy, but his sad smile made me sad, so I decide to ditch the scowl.
    He bends down to press a quick peck to my mouth, then lingers for a moment, lips inches from mine, before just dropping his forehead against mine, and goes, “I’m sorry.” He trails his finger along my arm, and closes his eyes as he continues, “So, so sorry. I should’ve listened. I brought you into this mess, and you shouldn’t be. Spencer was right, I deserve everything that happened, but you definitely don’t. I swear, if I could go back and – ”
    I put my finger to his lips, shushing him. “I know,” I say, but really, I just don’t want to hear about it anymore. It’s Saturday, I want to enjoy my weekend without having to think about how my entire fucking school – and now probably the whole town too – thinks I’m a fucking hooker on heroin.
    He smiles, still soft and with a tint of sadness, as he bends down to press another kiss to my lips. It’s longer this time, and deeper, and this time, I kiss him back. “Thanks,” he murmurs after. Then, he sighs, tucks some of his soft hair behind his ear as he rests his elbow beside my head, hoisting himself up. “Sometimes – ” he starts, taking a deep breath, as he runs his eyes over my face with this half-adoring, half-guilty look on his face. I can’t help but blush, hard, “Sometimes, I don’t think I deserve you.”
    My eyes perk up, because didn’t I used to think exactly that? And fine, okay, and maybe, even after the way he’s been acting towards me and everyone, I still find myself wondering, why me? I don’t tell him this though, because he doesn’t deserve flattery at the moment, so instead, I just ask, “Why?”
    “’Cause, Bren, I’m an asshole.” He shakes his head, bites onto his bottom lip and uses his other hand that’s not hoisting himself up to run through his hair. “I’ve been treating you like shit, and I don’t even know why. I’ve been treating everyone like shit. Spencer hates me, Jon hates me, you… I mean, I know you’re probably still pissed at me.” I go to open my mouth to protest, cause yeah, sure, maybe I am, deep down, but I’m a big pile of mush for Ryan right now (when am I not?) and I don’t want him feeling worse. However, he shuts me up with a pointed look and quickly goes, “I don’t blame you. You should be. Honestly, I should have been dumped a long time ago for the way I’ve been treating you. I’ve been terrible. I think… I honestly think this – what Dayna did – was God’s way of telling me how much of an idiot I was being. It’s my punishment.” He throws in a forced laugh like he’s trying to pretend he’s just joking, but I don’t buy it.
    I shrug, and well, what about me? Do I deserve it? What am I getting punished for?
    “You’re strong, Bren,” he whispers, voice cracking. “You can handle it. He knows I’m not. I pretend to be, but… well.” He shrugs, sad.
    I wonder if he has the ability to read my mind.
    I wrap my hand around his forearm, and squeeze.
    He gives me a soft, but grateful smile. “I think…” he starts, then pauses, thoughtful, like he can’t decide whether or not he wants to say it. After a few minutes I guess he decides that, no, he doesn’t, because he shakes his head and goes, “never mind. I don’t even know.”
    “No,” I say, refusing to let this slide as I squeeze onto his arm again, urging him to go on. “No, tell me. What? What do you think?”
    He looks me over for a few seconds, contemplating, before he takes a deep, defeated breath and goes, “I think, in a way, I was acting like I was, you know, like ditching you for Dayna and stuff, because, I don’t know. Honestly, I think a part of me thought that maybe, in some small way, I could be normal again – normal in my… in my dad’s eyes. God’s eyes even. Like… I can’t even explain it. It was stupid. I just thought that if maybe, I started hanging out with Dayna and my old friends again, that if they could accept me, then so could my dad. That maybe, I don’t know… maybe I wouldn’t be so confused over this whole… God thing. Like, where I stand. I know it sounds so stupid, and I see that now, but I just… I guess I just thought in some kind of way, that if they could accept me so could everyone else… that I could feel better about myself…”
    I don’t have to think it over before I’m wrapping my arm around his neck, pulling him back into me. He lets his hand beside my hand fall limp, and he just collapses into me, burying his nose and face and eyes into the crook of my neck. “It doesn’t sound stupid,” I say, because well, it doesn’t. Maybe I don’t understand exactly how he feels, and I probably won’t ever, but in a way, I do understand where he was coming from.

  197.  
      rustnuts

    We stay quiet for a long time, with him breathing in long, laboured breaths into my shoulder. Every few minutes I feel a tiny, hot droplet fall onto my skin. “I love you, Bren,” he mumbles, gripping hard onto my elbow, sharp nails digging into the hard skin. “I don’t – ” hiccup, “I don’t know how I’d do this if – ” he pauses, hiccups and sniffs once more, then tries again after a long, deep breath, “I don’t know how I’d do this without you. I couldn’t.” Saying this only appears to work him up more, because once the last word’s out of his mouth, he’s bawling hard into my shoulder.
    I hush him, running one hand through his hair, and the other massaging circles into his boney back as I go, “it’ll be okay,” over and over and over and over again until the words stop making sense to me.
    I vaguely wonder if there will ever be a time when Ryan will have to comfort me – by the looks of it, I doubt it.
    – – –
    A few hours later, we’re still lying on my bed, me behind Ryan, arm slung around his waist, spooning him.
    We’re watching The Real World on MTV. Okay, well, it’s on, and Ryan might be watching it but too many things are flying through my head that I can barely even see the TV straight.
    Eventually, Ryan shimmies around until he’s facing me. He runs his finger up my chest, and across my shoulder, then back down. “Look, Bren…” he starts, voice soft with a touch of remorse, “I – I think that it’s time to, um – well, I need to tell you something. It might, um – I don’t know – it might help explain a little why I’ve been acting the way I have, I mean, it’s really no excuse, but…” He stops his rambling, and blinks at me nervously, lip in between his white teeth.
    My heart stops because, um, what? Ryan’s been keeping something from me, of course. What now? Let me guess, it’s going to be something like he actually slept with Dayna before or something, considering that’s how every thing’s been seeming to go lately. You know, crappy and having to do with her.
    I barely get a cautious ‘okay’ halfway out of my mouth before my phone goes off on my nightstand, vibrating and pouring out ‘Just Dance’ by Lady Gaga. Shut up, don’t make fun. It’s only like, the best song ever.
    Since Ryan’s the closest one to it, he reaches a hand behind him and grabs onto it for me. Being the nosey kid he is, he reads the caller ID flashing on my screen before handing it to me. Seeing by the way his face drops completely, I don’t have to look when he finally does hand it to me to know it’s Spencer.
    I look him straight in the eye before flipping it open. “Hold that thought, okay?” I say.

  198.  
      rustnuts

    He barely gives me a half nod.
    I open my phone and mutter an, “’ello, Spencer,” trying to sound less enthused than I actually am just for Ryan’s sake. God, am I such a good boyfriend, aren’t I? I should like, seriously get an award.
    “Hey,” he replies back, all happy and chipper. It’s quite a drastic chance in the mood to be completely honest. My head was starting to hurt from all the moping and crying.
    Ryan, on the other hand, stares at me, unmoving and unblinking.
    “I’m just making sure you’re still up for tonight.”
    I rack my brains. Tonight? Tonight? What’s tonight? I had plans with Spencer tonight? When have I ever made plans with Spencer? Wh – Oh. “Oh! That Queen cover band thing, right?”
    “Yeah!” he replies, enthusiastically, and I swear, he probably just like, pumped his fist in the air or something. “I just picked up the tickets from my mom’s friend. So, you up for it?”
    I look Ryan over, from his bags, to red eyes, to his completely and utterly heartbroken expression. Should I? No. No, I shouldn’t, because he’s fucking depressed here. He could go and like, go and slit his wrists in my bathtub. Then how would I live with myself? He needs me to be there for him, just like my mom said. But then again…how many times in the past few weeks has he just left me when I was upset to go and hang out with Dayna? When we were fighting? When I was fucking crying? How many times has he ditched me? Plus, it’s only for a few hours, and my parents are home, so it’s not like he’ll be alone. And okay, I think I deserve a little bit of happy in my weekend, and I know I won’t be getting any of that from Ryan anytime soon. And to top it all off, me and Jon and Spencer have been planning this since last week, so if I don’t go, I’d be ditching them, and frankly, I don’t want to be a ditcher (like Ryan).
    I force myself to look away from him as I say into the receiver, “Okay, yeah. Sure.“ And damnit, I feel guilty already.
    “Okay, Sweet.” Spencer beams over the phone. “Well, it starts at seven, but me and Jon were thinking of leaving like, an hour earlier since its all the way on the strip, and seating is kind of like, first come, first serve kind of thing.”
    “Um, sure.” I’m a terrible, terrible, terrible person.
    “Okay.” There’s a long pause on the other end before, he adds, with a slight cough, “So, I only have three tickets, so…” he trails off, and then ends it there, but I think I have an idea what he’s trying to say. Although, it’s really kind of stupid for him to even mention it ’cause I’m not stupid. Even if he did have another ticket, it’s not like Ryan would be coming with us anyway.
    “Yeah,” I say, softly, staring down at the patterns of my comforter, avoiding Ryan’s eyes. Guilt thumps in my chest, because I really shouldn’t be doing this right now. “I know.”
    “Okay. Well, me and Jon will be there at about, quarter to six, so be ready,” he explains, voice back to being all happy and chipper.
    “Yeah…”

  199.  
      rustnuts

    “Kay, see ya then!” he says, and he’s already hung up the phone before I have a chance to say bye.
    I close my phone slowly, buying time before I have to tell Ryan I’m leaving to be miserable and suicidal by himself while I go and watch an old, hairy guy in tight leather clothes bouncing around the stage, with his ex-best friend.
    Eventually, I force myself to pull my eyes off my comforter, and look up at Ryan’s curious (but still, very depressed) face. “What was that about?” he asks timidly, even though he looks like he really doesn’t want to know.
    “Oh, just this Queen and David Bowie thing.” I shrug like it’s no big deal even though I know he’s got this like, secret obsession with Queen (he won’t admit it though, because um hi, they’re not Christian).
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah, but it’s really no big deal,” I say, offhandedly, as I crawl over top of him and off the bed.
    His eyes flash. “It sounds like fun.”
    Yeah, it does.
    I shrug. “I don’t know, maybe.”
    “So, you’re going with Spencer and Jon?” he asks, with a hopeful edge to his voice. And oh dear god, he actually thinks I might invite him.
    “Yeah.” I nod, heading over to my closet to find something to wear. Okay, I totally take back everything I said about being a good boyfriend and getting an award. “He bought, um -” pause, deep breath, continue, “he bought three tickets from his mom’s friend.”
    “Oh,” he says, voice dropping, and yeah, totally just killed him even more. I’m a murderer. “Okay.” He lets out this tiny, muted sigh, stares down at the bed for a few minutes before bringing his eyes back up to me, and forces this big, fakefakefake smile. “Well, I’m sure you guys will have lots of fun.”
    Lies. All lies. I can see the tears brimming.
    “Are you – I don’t have to go. I can stay here if you – ” I say, quickly, because okay, shut up. I can’t help it. I have a conscience, and it’s absolutelyscreaming at me right now.
    “No. No,” he says just ask quickly, shaking his head, cutting me off mid-sentence. “No, I want you to go. It’s better than sticking around here all night with a miserable me.”
    “Are you – ”

  200.  
      rustnuts

    “Yes,” he replies sharply, and that’s that.
    – – –
    I feel guilty all night.
    In the beginning, I stay attached to my phone, texting Ryan, asking him if he’s alright, that if he wants me to come home, I will. He texts me back for about, the first half an hour, until he tells me to stop texting him and to have fun, then just stops replying all together.
    I end up freaking out, because ohmigod, what if he killed himself? So, I call him, but he just goes, “Brendon! I’m fine!” and then hangs up.
    I sigh in defeat, and slide my phone into my pocket.
    Spencer looks from across the table at me, eyebrow raised.
    I shrug, and look up towards the stage, where the curtain sways back and forth, while the roadies set up for the show behind it.
    A few minutes later, Jon comes sauntering back to our table, three beers in hand. “Look what I got!” he sings, placing a beer in front of me and Spencer, then one for himself.
    We stare at him. Spencer’s the first to ask, “How the fuck did you manage to get those?”
    “The bar doesn’t ID,” Jon answers, wriggling his eyebrows.
    “They probably didn’t think they had to,” I reply with a smirk. “You look about thirty.”
    Jon smiles, impressed, and strokes his bearded chin. “It’s the facial hair. It’s a wonderful thing.”
    “I bet,” I reply, taking a swig from the beer. I gag, ’cause I always hated the taste. “Not that I’d know,” I reply, a little on the bitter side, ’cause okay, sometimes I really wish I could grow facial hair. But, I just… can’t. It’s sad.
    Jon sends me a sympathetic smile, and pants my hand with his. “It’s okay, Brenny. One day.”
    Spencer just smiles all lovingly (er, okay, more like hornily) up at Jon, runs his hand up his hairy arm, then presses a kiss to the side of his mouth. I guess Spencer Smith gets turned on by facial hair. And it’s actually kind of funny now that I think of it, ’cause Spencer’s got this cute, little, eensy baby face that you just want to squeeze and coo at. Then there’s Jon, all manly and… stuff.
    Jon tilts his head a bit, smiles, then kisses Spencer back (with tongue, and a lot of it from what I can see) right in front of my eyes. They make out for a total of 0.7 seconds before, I’m clearing my throat and demanding, “Stop!”

  201.  
      rustnuts

    Thankfully, they listen, but Spencer stays glued to Jon’s arm, sipping at his own beer.
    Jon gets up about five more times during the show, refilling us on more alcohol. We have everything – beer, wine, cooler, margarita, rum and coke, vodka and orange juice. So, it goes without saying, by the end of the show, we’re pretty trashed.
    We’re slurring, and laughing, and the drag queens that joined us at our table are giggling and calling us names like sugarplum and honeybee.
    Ryan completely slips my mind until Spencer and Jon start making out again, and the drag queen next to me, Misty, turns to me and asks, “and where’s your boyfriend, cutie-pie?”
    Then, I kind of want to cry. And then hug her at the same time, ’cause she smells like cherries and cigarettes and alcohol.
    When we finally decide that it’s getting late and we should leave, we give our new friends a goodbye hug, and make our way out of the smokey club and into fresh air. Then we kind of realize, like, shit. How are we supposed to get home if we’re all drunk?
    “We could call a cab?” Spencer suggests.
    “I don’t have no money,” I reply, swaying back and forth as I squint, trying to separate the big blur of colors from another. Maybe drinking wasn’t the best idea ever.
    “Me neither.” Jon sighs.
    “Ditto.”
    Damn.
    “My mom can probably pick us up,” Jon says, faintly with a bit of a slur.
    “We’re like, um, drunk,” Spencer states from beside him like, duh. He would probably slap me if I ever said it out loud, but he’s so much like Ryan (even when he’s drunk like he is now) that it’s not even funny.
    He shrugs. “So…”
    My phone vibrates from in my pocket, and I pull it out to see my mom’s cellphone number flashing on the screen. I momentarily freak out, because fuck, I’m drunk and my mom is going to chop me up into little, tiny pieces and kill me! I take a deep breath, close my eyes and count to five before answering. I can do this. “’lo,” I slur, and damnit!
    “Brendon!” she yells. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?! I’ve called at least twenty times!”
    Oops.
    “Uh… I was at a concert?” I reply, and yeah, that sounds good, because I was… and yeah.
    She sighs, and there’s a superlong pause on the other end. I’m just about to ask if she’s still there but then she goes, “You need to come to the hospital right now.”
    I almost fall on my butt. “The hospital? What?! Why?! What happened?! Is Ryan okay? Oh my god, please tell me – ” I cry, voice all high and squeaky, and oh my god. Ryan killed himself didn’t he? I was off getting drunk with drag queens and Ryan killed himself.
    I start crying a little.
    “He’s fine!” she says, voice loud and irritated, cutting me off mid-freakout.
    “Oh, thank the lord!” I breathe a sigh of relief, and stop crying. I turn to see if Spencer and Jon are listening, but nope, they’re making out, completely oblivious. Of course.
    “Then what?”
    She sighs, pauses, then goes, “it’s his dad, Brendon.”

  202.  
      rustnuts

    My dad sends me a look and goes, “Language!”
    I stare at him and roll my eyes, because I mean, really dad? Really? Is now really the time to be getting mad at me for swearing?
    My dad turns back to the road, and we stay in complete silence for the next ten minutes. In the beginning I stare out the window but then after a few minutes I force myself to turn away because I was starting to feel a little nauseous.
    “Look, okay,” my dad starts once we pull into my driveway, breaking the silence, “have a shower. It probably won’t make much of a difference, but preferably a cold one. I’ll make some coffee too.”
    Yes, yes, YES! My dad is my hero! “Thank you!”
    “This isn’t for you, Brendon,” he points out, face expressionless as he stares at me. “This is for Ryan, because he doesn’t need to come home, after dealing with his dad being in the hospital for alcohol poisoning, to find you drunk.”
    “Yes… yeah, I know,” I reply, nodding. “Yes. Thanks.”
    I open the car door, and as I’m heading up the driveway to our front door, my dad says, “and don’t think I won’t be telling your mom about this if she doesn’t find out herself – which, knowing her, she probably will.”
    Damn.
    – – –
    When Ryan and my mom finally get back home, I’m sitting at the kitchen table in my PJ’s, drinking my third cup of coffee (thank the lord it’s only Amanda who’s Mormon or I would not be enjoying this right now).
    I’m thinking I’m mostly sober, and I am so fucking happy about that.
    Ryan’s not crying, and I’m also happy about that. But his eyes are rimmed red, and he looks exhausted – like, seconds from collapsing onto the ground, exhausted.
    I immediately jump to my feet, run over to him, probably a bit too quickly than I should have in my still not-quite-sober stage, because I feel a bit woozy causing me to stumble a bit at first. I pray he or my mom didn’t notice, and wrap my arms tight around his neck. He falls into me automatically, and lets out a big, relieved breath.
    “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
    He shakes his head, but says nothing.
    “Are you okay?” I ask. “Is your dad?”
    He nods, and sighs, lifting his face up from my shoulder. “Yeah…”

  203.  
      rustnuts

    My mom walks by giving me a long, disapproving look. I don’t know if its because she knows I am/was drunk or just for not answering my phone, leaving Ryan to cry at the hospital while I watched Queen impersonators and chilled with drag queens. I hope it’s the former, even though my dad so nicely, previously stated that he’ll tell her anyway.
    “It’s a good thing Ryan went to the house and found him when he did,” my mom says, going to the cupboard to pull out her own mug. “Ryan, do you want some coffee?” she asks.
    He shakes his head, and I blink, confused. Because why would he be at his house? It’s not like he needs anything there. He’s got all his clothes, and really, anything he needs here. I send him a questioning look, and he looks away.
    “How about you boys go up to bed?” my mom suggests, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “You must be exhausted, Ryan.” In other words, she wants us to leave so they can talk about us – and then my dad will tell her how I was/am drunk, and I’ll forever be locked up in the cellar downstairs.
    “Yeah…” Ryan nods, voice soft and quiet.
    We say our goodnights and I make sure to hold his hand as we walk upstairs. Ryan sniffs a few times beside me, but every time I turn to look, his cheeks are dry.
    When we get to my room, Ryan strips to his boxers, leaving his clothes to sit in a pile on the floor – which on any other circumstances he rarely does, except for like, well, sex. He doesn’t really care then, obviously. Which is a good thing because then that would really ruin the mood and – anyways! Moving back to the current situation that is so far away from sex that it’s not even funny.
    Ryan grabs onto my hands, pulling the two of us to sit on the/my/our bed. He takes a deep breath, and runs his eyes over my face, letting them linger on my lips for a few moments before bringing them back to my eyes as he starts. I immediately shift my eyes away, nervous, because shit, what if he can tell by my eyes that I’m drunk? “So, you know how I wanted to tell you something before?” he asks.
    I take a moment, collect myself, then nod, slow. And right, how did I even forget about that?
    “Well…” He sighs. Pause, one, two, three. “It had to do with my dad actually, and well… it’ll probably explain all of um, this.”
    I breathe a long sigh of relief because thank god, it doesn’t have to do with that evil skank (Which, I’m sure all of you know who I’m referring to by now, right?)
    “Okay, well,” He takes another deep breath, his eyes darting around the room before he goes, “This is um, really hard.” He looks down at the blanket underneath us and picks at his right sock.
    I inch my hand towards his before grabbing a hold of it and squeezing tight. “It’s okay,” I say.
    He looks up at me, unsure, then rubs his eye with his fingers. “Okay, so, you know – well, you know how my mom… passed away when I was younger?” he says, slow and a bit awkward, forcing out every word like he’s in pain – which, okay, he probably is.
    I nod, heart clenching.
    “Okay, well, I was eight, and um, one night – it was late, well, after my bed-time late and my dad decided that would should get some ice cream. Me, being a eight year old, didn’t need much convincing. So, me and my mom got into my car while my dad stayed at home, and drove down to the gas station just a few blocks away.” He stops, squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, shaky breath. I slide over to beside him, and wrap my arm around his waist, and practically pull his head onto my chest, running my fingers through his hair. He lets out a small choked sound, and a ball forms at my own throat.
    “One moment – one moment we were singing along to the radio and the next thing I know… I’m lying in a hospital bed. Turns out -” He shakes his head, and sniffs, rubbing his small nose into my shirt. “Turns out we had gotten hit by some seventeen year old, drunk driver. Directly into the drivers seat.”
    He whimpers, and I pull him tighter into me, pressing tiny kisses to anywhere I can manage – his temple, his ear, eyebrow, cheek, nose. “S’okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to go on, I understand.”
    He shakes his head, and wipes a tear from under his eye. “No,” he refuses, then sniffles. “I want to. You should know.”

  204.  
      rustnuts

    I nod, biting my lip, my own tears welling at my eyes. This is just… shit, this is just so effing depressing.
    He swallows, then continues, voice cracking, “She died almost instantly, at least that’s what they told me. And me, well, I was lucky. I almost died too. I was in the hospital for three weeks. I flew out the window, apparently, and landed in someone’s front yard. I broke my wrist, and leg, and had a pretty bad head injury,” he explains as he absentmindedly picking at my PJ pants, tears slipping down his cheeks every few moments. “My dad’s never been the same since. He blames himself for her death, and for almost killing me.” He takes a moment, and lets out the smallest, saddest and most bitter laugh imaginable and goes, “You know, it’s funny, that he was just so upset, for so long… that he punished himself for almost killing me, and now – now he wishes I was dead.”
    Yes, Ryan, that’s just hilarious.
    “No, he doesn’t,” I say instantly, running my fingers over his wet cheeks.
    He rolls his eyes and sniffs. “Pretty much, yeah, Bren.”
    I shake my head.
    He moves some hair from his eyes and darts his tongue across his salty lips, hand clutching at my arm. “Anyways… the whole point of this story was, is that every year, to the day – I wouldn’t be surprised if it was to the minute – he does this. He drinks… too much. Every year since I was nine he ended up in the hospital to get his stomach pumped, and I’ve always been the one to find him. I mean, who else would? He hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since my mom died,” he explains, then presses his face into my neck, lips brushing my skin and he nudges his nose against my Adams apple. I turn to jelly a bit. “That’s why I went today because I knew,” he murmurs, “and well, of course I was right. There he was, passed out on the living room floor, empty vodka bottle in his hands. It’s pathetic, you know. It really is. I mean, I know she was his wife, but she was my mom, and you don’t see me getting all self-destructive every year.”
    I just… wow. I just, I can’t even believe it. That was an overload on just, everything. That, I wasn’t expecting, at all. “Whoa,” I breath, and wow, Brendon. Okay, good one.
    “Yeah…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Anyways, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I know I should have told you soon – ”
    I shut him up right away by grabbing onto his knee and using my other hand to press my finger to his lips. “No. You shouldn’t have,” I say. “That’s something you tell when you feel right, not because you think you have to because I’m your boyfriend.”
    He shrugs, and looks away.
    “Seriously,” I say, nudging my forehead against his. “So, really, thanks for telling me,” I murmur into his cheek. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
    He nods, sniffs, and I run my the palms of my hands over his cheeks. I nudge his face up towards me and press a soft kiss to his wet, tear-soaked lips. “Lets go to sleep, yeah?”
    He gives me another small, pathetic nod, and I just want to cry. Seriously. I’m so close.
    I slide off the bed, and then look down at him, all curled up in himself with a red nose and eyes. “Okay, Ry, baby, get under the covers. I’m going to tuck you in,” I order. I’ve never really been the type for pet names, and neither has Ryan, but there’s a time and a place for everything – and really, I think now is the time.

  205.  
      rustnuts

    He giggles softly, but does as I say. I pull the blanket up to his chin, tuck it under his sides (which, I realize is pretty frickin’ pointless considering I’m going to ruin it in five seconds when I crawl back in) and finish with a quick peck to his forehead, nose and lips.
    His lips twitch into a small but genuine smile. “I love you, Bren,” he mumbles.
    “I know,” I reply, heading over to flick off the light, “and I love you too, Ry.”
    I crawl up the bed, over his feet, kneeing him in the process, before sliding under the covers with him, wrapping my arms tight around his small, slightly shaking frame.
    We lay in silence for a few moments with me tracing patterns into his hip, before Ryan’s tiny voice goes, “Bren?”
    “Hmmm?”
    “Can you sing to me?” he asks, so quiet I barely catch it.
    “S-Sure,” I stutter, a little taken back, because no one has ever asked me to sing for them before and honestly, I mean, it’s just Ryan and all but I‘m a little nervous. “Um, what do you want me to sing?” I ask.
    He shrugs. “I don’t care,” he says sleepily, yawning into my shoulder. “Anything you want.”
    I take a deep breath, and think this over. I mean, what do I even sing? I don’t have any music in the background, or like the beat or… anything. And just, what if I suck and make his ears bleed? I mean, I personally don’t think I’m that bad, but I never sing except for when I’m in the shower – alone. “Um, okay,” I say, then clear my throat.
    Ryan stays still at my side, hard breath spilling against my neck.
    Okay, I can do this. It’s just Ryan. He wont care whether I suck or not.
    I press my lips by his ear, and softly start singing out the song that my mom always used to sing me when I was sad when I was younger. I feel his lips twitch into a smile against my skin, as he curls further into my side, letting out a tiny noise of appreciation.
    “Mr. Blue, don’t hold your head so low that you cant see the sky,” I sing, softly, voice cracking the slightest bit. I try not to get to embarrassed, and force myself to continue, “Mr. Blue, it aint so long since you were flying high.”
    I repeat the chorus a few times, because I don’t really remember much else, and just before I’m about to change songs, I look down to see Ryan, fast asleep, head buried in my chest and hands clutching at my arms.
    I press my lips to his forehead, and fall asleep myself.

  206.  
      rustnuts

    My dad ends up picking me up, because well, someone has to stay at the hospital with Ryan, and I think it goes without saying that it would be a little more than awkward if my dad was left to comfort Ryan. But you know, just saying.
    When my car pulls up twenty minutes after I’ve hung up with my mom, I’m still pretty drunk. I wave my goodbye to Spencer and Jon who are still standing on the crowded sidewalk, waiting for Jon’s mom to pick them up. I already tried one hundred billion times while waiting for my dad, convincing them to come because I really think Ryan would appreciate it if his life-long best friend came to give him some support. I mean sure, maybe Spencer is kind of really pissed the fuck off at Ryan right now, but still, I mean, come on, his dad is in the hospital. Anyways, my attempts at persuading were just a complete and total fail because Spencer would give me this incredulous look every time, and be like, “Brendon, you idiot, we’re drunk.”
    This was true, but hey, I’m drunk too. At least, I figure, a third of the attention would be taken off of me for awhile.
    Before getting into my car, I take a deep breath thinking, okay, I can do this. I can be normal. I wont slur, or say inappropriate things. I’ll be fine. Unless… oh my God, what if I smell like alcohol, and smoke, and drag queens? I bet I do.
    However, it turns out any chance of normalcy gets ruined before I even properly get into the car, because somehow, I manage to trip over some imaginary object, go flying into the passenger seat, almost falling back out of the car and landing on my big, fat butt out on the sidewalk in the process.
    I curse under my breath for being such a drunken buffoon, then count one, two, three before turning to my dad, flashing him mouthful of pearly white teeth.It’s okay, it’s cool. He wont know, I mean, it’s my dad after all. I’m just clumsy anyways, that’s all. Just be normal, just be normal. “HI DAD!” I practically yell out, full-force into my dads face (and of course, with a bit of a slur) probably giving him a huge whiff of the sour, alcohol smell lingering in my mouth.
    Damnit! So not normal, Brendon. So not normal.
    My dad stares at me, completely deadpanned, for a total of like, I don’t even know, a billion seconds or something like that before going, “You’re drunk.”
    I stare back at him, and blink, forcing back the laugh that’s just so inappropriately bubbling up my throat like vomit. I send him the most innocent, angelic look I can muster up in my drunken state. “Who? Meeee?” I gasp. “Dad, no! Who do you think I am?!”
    “Brendon,” he warns, not smiling, and no, definitely not convinced either.
    I sigh, defeated as my dad takes off down the packed street, into the big mess of traffic, shaking his head.
    “‘Kay, you caught me dad, I am,” I admit, head hung low. “But only jus’ a little. Justa bit. S’nothing, really,” I slur, then add in just for good measures, “that s’all.”
    He doesn’t say anything for a good few solid minutes. I stare at him, waiting, and oh my God, the silence is excruciating.
    “You’re lucky we’re going home,” he finally says.
    “What? Why?” I cry. “We aren’t going to the hospital?”

  207.  
      rustnuts

    “Because, your mother figured since we’d be leaving soon anyway, there’s really no point in going all the way there,” he explains, stopping behind a car for the 34588344 time in the past five minutes since he picked me up. Trust me, driving on the strip on a Saturday night really isn’t the best thing ever. “They won’t be too long. Ryan just wants to talk to his dad and then they’re leaving.”
    “Oh, okay. Well ‘ike, what happened anyway? He’s s’okay then, I guess? Right?” I ask, and just fuck, SLUR GO AWAY. I DON’T WANT YOU ANYMORE!!!
    “Yes, he’s fine. He’ll probably just be overnight,” my dad says.
    I breathe a sigh of relief, because maybe I kind of really hate the guy, and maybe he’s a real big ass and only caused grief for me and Ryan lately, but he’s still Ryan’s dad, and I don’t want him to be dying or anything.
    “Sooo… What happened though?” I ask again.
    He lets out this big, long, annoyed sigh, and gives me a look like, shut up. At first, I’m insulted, because um, like, sorry but I’m just asking questions here about my boyfriend’s father being in the hospital. Then I realize, oh right, he’s probably just being like any other normal parent, and is mad at me for being underage and drunk. But, I don’t know, just maybe. “Alcohol poisoning, Brendon,” he replies. And yeah, that could also be why.
    I nearly fall out of the passenger seat (for the second time) in shock. Because, I mean, what? The pastor has even tried alcohol? Isn’t that like, a sin? I take a moment to let this sink in before I’m freaking the fuck out, because oh my God, Ryan’s going to come home, upset and probably crying because his dad drank too much and ended up in the hospital for it, and there I’ll be, drunk.
    Why did I have to accept the alcohol from Jon? Why?! 

    My dad must notice me freaking out on the inside because he goes, “Exactly.”
    I want to cry.
    Me and my dad sit there in silence, and I’m also about seconds from rolling down the window and vomiting. This is not funny. God, really, if you’re out there, why do you find the need to put me and Ryan through this crap over and over and over again? Why can’t you just leave us in peace? Can’t we be happy for once? Can’t we be a cute, little, perfect, worry-free couple like Spencer and Jon for once? Do you not love us?
    Okay, well, let’s look at it this way, maybe – just maybe, Ryan won’t know I’m drunk. I just wont talk, I’ll just keep my mouth shut and hug him. That should work, shouldn’t it? Maybe even by the time him and my mom come home, I’ll be sober, or at least enough to pretend I am. Maybe he’ll just be too upset to notice anyways.
    My dad gives his head another shake, and stares at the road ahead of us with this long, thoughtful expression on his face. I realize that this is the first actual conversation I’ve had with my dad in a long, long time – and I’m drunk. How depressing. “Shit, Brendon,” he swears under his breath. “What were you even thinking? Drinking? You’re underage. How’d you even manage to get alcohol?”
    “Jon hassa beard,” I state simply, because like, that in itself could explain how the world was made. Really.
    “Jon. Right.”
    “Okay, well, like, what if I just don’t talk?” I suggest. “I mean, they wont know.”
    He shakes his head humorously, and lets out a tiny laugh under his breath. “Brendon, I knew before you spoke.”
    “Fuck!” I cry. I’m so, so, so, so, so dead.
    My dad sends me a look and goes, “Language!”
    I stare at him and roll my eyes, because I mean, really dad? Really? Is now really the time to be getting mad at me for swearing?

  208.  
      rustnuts

    My dad turns back to the road, and we stay in complete silence for the next ten minutes. In the beginning I stare out the window but then after a few minutes I force myself to turn away because I was starting to feel a little nauseous.
    “Look, okay,” my dad starts once we pull into my driveway, breaking the silence, “have a shower. It probably won’t make much of a difference, but preferably a cold one. I’ll make some coffee too.”
    Yes, yes, YES! My dad is my hero! “Thank you!”
    “This isn’t for you, Brendon,” he points out, face expressionless as he stares at me. “This is for Ryan, because he doesn’t need to come home, after dealing with his dad being in the hospital for alcohol poisoning, to find you drunk.”
    “Yes… yeah, I know,” I reply, nodding. “Yes. Thanks.”
    I open the car door, and as I’m heading up the driveway to our front door, my dad says, “and don’t think I won’t be telling your mom about this if she doesn’t find out herself – which, knowing her, she probably will.”
    Damn.
    – – –
    When Ryan and my mom finally get back home, I’m sitting at the kitchen table in my PJ’s, drinking my third cup of coffee (thank the lord it’s only Amanda who’s Mormon or I would not be enjoying this right now).
    I’m thinking I’m mostly sober, and I am so fucking happy about that.
    Ryan’s not crying, and I’m also happy about that. But his eyes are rimmed red, and he looks exhausted – like, seconds from collapsing onto the ground, exhausted.
    I immediately jump to my feet, run over to him, probably a bit too quickly than I should have in my still not-quite-sober stage, because I feel a bit woozy causing me to stumble a bit at first. I pray he or my mom didn’t notice, and wrap my arms tight around his neck. He falls into me automatically, and lets out a big, relieved breath.
    “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
    He shakes his head, but says nothing.
    “Are you okay?” I ask. “Is your dad?”
    He nods, and sighs, lifting his face up from my shoulder. “Yeah…”
    My mom walks by giving me a long, disapproving look. I don’t know if its because she knows I am/was drunk or just for not answering my phone, leaving Ryan to cry at the hospital while I watched Queen impersonators and chilled with drag queens. I hope it’s the former, even though my dad so nicely, previously stated that he’ll tell her anyway.
    “It’s a good thing Ryan went to the house and found him when he did,” my mom says, going to the cupboard to pull out her own mug. “Ryan, do you want some coffee?” she asks.

  209.  
      rustnuts

    He shakes his head, and I blink, confused. Because why would he be at his house? It’s not like he needs anything there. He’s got all his clothes, and really, anything he needs here. I send him a questioning look, and he looks away.
    “How about you boys go up to bed?” my mom suggests, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “You must be exhausted, Ryan.” In other words, she wants us to leave so they can talk about us – and then my dad will tell her how I was/am drunk, and I’ll forever be locked up in the cellar downstairs.
    “Yeah…” Ryan nods, voice soft and quiet.
    We say our goodnights and I make sure to hold his hand as we walk upstairs. Ryan sniffs a few times beside me, but every time I turn to look, his cheeks are dry.
    When we get to my room, Ryan strips to his boxers, leaving his clothes to sit in a pile on the floor – which on any other circumstances he rarely does, except for like, well, sex. He doesn’t really care then, obviously. Which is a good thing because then that would really ruin the mood and – anyways! Moving back to the current situation that is so far away from sex that it’s not even funny.
    Ryan grabs onto my hands, pulling the two of us to sit on the/my/our bed. He takes a deep breath, and runs his eyes over my face, letting them linger on my lips for a few moments before bringing them back to my eyes as he starts. I immediately shift my eyes away, nervous, because shit, what if he can tell by my eyes that I’m drunk? “So, you know how I wanted to tell you something before?” he asks.
    I take a moment, collect myself, then nod, slow. And right, how did I even forget about that?
    “Well…” He sighs. Pause, one, two, three. “It had to do with my dad actually, and well… it’ll probably explain all of um, this.”
    I breathe a long sigh of relief because thank god, it doesn’t have to do with that evil skank (Which, I’m sure all of you know who I’m referring to by now, right?)
    “Okay, well,” He takes another deep breath, his eyes darting around the room before he goes, “This is um, really hard.” He looks down at the blanket underneath us and picks at his right sock.
    I inch my hand towards his before grabbing a hold of it and squeezing tight. “It’s okay,” I say.
    He looks up at me, unsure, then rubs his eye with his fingers. “Okay, so, you know – well, you know how my mom… passed away when I was younger?” he says, slow and a bit awkward, forcing out every word like he’s in pain – which, okay, he probably is.
    I nod, heart clenching.
    “Okay, well, I was eight, and um, one night – it was late, well, after my bed-time late and my dad decided that would should get some ice cream. Me, being a eight year old, didn’t need much convincing. So, me and my mom got into my car while my dad stayed at home, and drove down to the gas station just a few blocks away.” He stops, squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, shaky breath. I slide over to beside him, and wrap my arm around his waist, and practically pull his head onto my chest, running my fingers through his hair. He lets out a small choked sound, and a ball forms at my own throat.

  210.  
      rustnuts

    “One moment – one moment we were singing along to the radio and the next thing I know… I’m lying in a hospital bed. Turns out -” He shakes his head, and sniffs, rubbing his small nose into my shirt. “Turns out we had gotten hit by some seventeen year old, drunk driver. Directly into the drivers seat.”
    He whimpers, and I pull him tighter into me, pressing tiny kisses to anywhere I can manage – his temple, his ear, eyebrow, cheek, nose. “S’okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to go on, I understand.”
    He shakes his head, and wipes a tear from under his eye. “No,” he refuses, then sniffles. “I want to. You should know.”
    I nod, biting my lip, my own tears welling at my eyes. This is just… shit, this is just so effing depressing.
    He swallows, then continues, voice cracking, “She died almost instantly, at least that’s what they told me. And me, well, I was lucky. I almost died too. I was in the hospital for three weeks. I flew out the window, apparently, and landed in someone’s front yard. I broke my wrist, and leg, and had a pretty bad head injury,” he explains as he absentmindedly picking at my PJ pants, tears slipping down his cheeks every few moments. “My dad’s never been the same since. He blames himself for her death, and for almost killing me.” He takes a moment, and lets out the smallest, saddest and most bitter laugh imaginable and goes, “You know, it’s funny, that he was just so upset, for so long… that he punished himself for almost killing me, and now – now he wishes I was dead.”
    Yes, Ryan, that’s just hilarious.
    “No, he doesn’t,” I say instantly, running my fingers over his wet cheeks.
    He rolls his eyes and sniffs. “Pretty much, yeah, Bren.”
    I shake my head.
    He moves some hair from his eyes and darts his tongue across his salty lips, hand clutching at my arm. “Anyways… the whole point of this story was, is that every year, to the day – I wouldn’t be surprised if it was to the minute – he does this. He drinks… too much. Every year since I was nine he ended up in the hospital to get his stomach pumped, and I’ve always been the one to find him. I mean, who else would? He hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since my mom died,” he explains, then presses his face into my neck, lips brushing my skin and he nudges his nose against my Adams apple. I turn to jelly a bit. “That’s why I went today because I knew,” he murmurs, “and well, of course I was right. There he was, passed out on the living room floor, empty vodka bottle in his hands. It’s pathetic, you know. It really is. I mean, I know she was his wife, but she was my mom, and you don’t see me getting all self-destructive every year.”
    I just… wow. I just, I can’t even believe it. That was an overload on just, everything. That, I wasn’t expecting, at all. “Whoa,” I breath, and wow, Brendon. Okay, good one.
    “Yeah…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Anyways, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I know I should have told you soon – ”
    I shut him up right away by grabbing onto his knee and using my other hand to press my finger to his lips. “No. You shouldn’t have,” I say. “That’s something you tell when you feel right, not because you think you have to because I’m your boyfriend.”
    He shrugs, and looks away.
    “Seriously,” I say, nudging my forehead against his. “So, really, thanks for telling me,” I murmur into his cheek. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
    He nods, sniffs, and I run my the palms of my hands over his cheeks. I nudge his face up towards me and press a soft kiss to his wet, tear-soaked lips. “Lets go to sleep, yeah?”

  211.  
      rustnuts

    He gives me another small, pathetic nod, and I just want to cry. Seriously. I’m so close.
    I slide off the bed, and then look down at him, all curled up in himself with a red nose and eyes. “Okay, Ry, baby, get under the covers. I’m going to tuck you in,” I order. I’ve never really been the type for pet names, and neither has Ryan, but there’s a time and a place for everything – and really, I think now is the time.
    He giggles softly, but does as I say. I pull the blanket up to his chin, tuck it under his sides (which, I realize is pretty frickin’ pointless considering I’m going to ruin it in five seconds when I crawl back in) and finish with a quick peck to his forehead, nose and lips.
    His lips twitch into a small but genuine smile. “I love you, Bren,” he mumbles.
    “I know,” I reply, heading over to flick off the light, “and I love you too, Ry.”
    I crawl up the bed, over his feet, kneeing him in the process, before sliding under the covers with him, wrapping my arms tight around his small, slightly shaking frame.
    We lay in silence for a few moments with me tracing patterns into his hip, before Ryan’s tiny voice goes, “Bren?”
    “Hmmm?”
    “Can you sing to me?” he asks, so quiet I barely catch it.
    “S-Sure,” I stutter, a little taken back, because no one has ever asked me to sing for them before and honestly, I mean, it’s just Ryan and all but I‘m a little nervous. “Um, what do you want me to sing?” I ask.
    He shrugs. “I don’t care,” he says sleepily, yawning into my shoulder. “Anything you want.”
    I take a deep breath, and think this over. I mean, what do I even sing? I don’t have any music in the background, or like the beat or… anything. And just, what if I suck and make his ears bleed? I mean, I personally don’t think I’m that bad, but I never sing except for when I’m in the shower – alone. “Um, okay,” I say, then clear my throat.
    Ryan stays still at my side, hard breath spilling against my neck.
    Okay, I can do this. It’s just Ryan. He wont care whether I suck or not.
    I press my lips by his ear, and softly start singing out the song that my mom always used to sing me when I was sad when I was younger. I feel his lips twitch into a smile against my skin, as he curls further into my side, letting out a tiny noise of appreciation.
    “Mr. Blue, don’t hold your head so low that you cant see the sky,” I sing, softly, voice cracking the slightest bit. I try not to get to embarrassed, and force myself to continue, “Mr. Blue, it aint so long since you were flying high.”
    I repeat the chorus a few times, because I don’t really remember much else, and just before I’m about to change songs, I look down to see Ryan, fast asleep, head buried in my chest and hands clutching at my arms.
    I press my lips to his forehead, and fall asleep myself.

  212.  
      rustnuts

    The second my eyes open the next morning, I want to die. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus, then thrown off a cliff to be eaten by vultures.
    My head pounds, my body aches and it feels like my stomach is coming alive.
    I want to cry.
    However, I don’t really have the time to because my stomach gurgles and I can feel hot vomit rising up my throat. I cover my mouth, make a mad dash over Ryan’s legs, across my room and into my bathroom. Unfortunately, I’m a few seconds too late, and end up puking a little on the floor, a lot on the toilet lid and whole lot more in the actual toilet.
    This is so not cool, on so many levels.
    So, I sit there and puke… for a long time, a really, really long time. Just crying and whining and moaning while puke comes pouring out of my mouth. And the sad thing is, after awhile, it’s no longer substance that comes up just… liquid. Completely, and totally, all alcohol… with maybe a mix of coffee.
    Ryan eventually comes stumbling in, yawning, and then just sits down beside me, resting his back against the cabinet doors, completely unaffected by the fact that I’m puking my brains out.
    I have enough time between vomiting to look up at him, but then I groan, and then stick my head back into the toilet bowl and puke some more.

  213.  
      rustnuts

    He just looks at me, completely expressionless and unsympathetic. Finally, he goes, “Drank too much, huh?”
    I go to shoot him a confused, shocked look, because what? There’s no way he could have known I was drunk last night, I was acting perfectly normal by the time he got home – okay, maybe not perfectly normal, but pretty much. I could just be sick. I go to ask him a shocked ‘what are you talking about?’ but my puke cuts me off.
    Ryan doesn’t even flinch. Not even a little.
    When I’m finally done a few minutes later, I flush the toilet and Ryan hands me a wad of scrunched up toilet paper. As I’m wiping the puke off my face and the toilet lit and the floor, grimacing, Ryan stands up and fills up the glass used for rinsing our mouth after brushing our teeth, with tap water and hands it to me.
    “Thanks,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze as I take some water into my mouth, swish it around, and then spit in the toilet.
    “So, how was it?” he asks.
    I swallow my mouthful of cool water. I figure he’s talking about my drinking last night, not my puking. “I wasn’t – ” I start, but he gives me the look (the same one my dad gave me last night), so I sigh, defeated, knowing there’s not even a point in lying to Ryan, and go, “Fine, okay. I drank last night, but…” I rub my pounding forehead and realize there’s nothing I can say but apologize. “I’m so sorry, Ry. If I would have known I never would ha – ”
    “I know,” he says, cutting me off. “I know, that’s why I’m not mad. I can’t be, because you didn’t know. Sure, it was stupid, but…” he gives me a lame shrug, “it’s not like I can control you.”
    I look up at him, lip in between my mouth, with probably the guiltiest look on my face possible. Of course, just because I’m me and because the world hates me, the first time getting drunk had to be last night. Of course. 

    I slowly get up, clutching my stomach that’s still twisting and turning (but hey, at least it doesn’t feel like it’s coming alive anymore). I put the cup on the counter, and then wrap my arms around his neck, but still giving him the courtesy of not shoving my puke face in his. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “But I promise you that when you told me all that last night, like about your mom and dad, I was barely drunk, if at all. So… I remember.”
    “I know,” he answers.
    “So… then, how’d you know that I was at all?”
    He pulls away from me, but keeps his hands on my waist as he looks me straight in the eye like, really, Brendon? “I’m your boyfriend, Bren,” he points out, tilting his head to the side. “I think I’d notice when you’re acting a little off. I wasn’t sure, I mean, like, I didn’t think you were really; the thought just kind of crossed my mind. But then the puking… well more like the projectile vomiting pretty much confirmed it.”
    I let out a small laugh, but it only makes my head and stomach hurt more. “What an appropriate time to get drunk for my first time, huh?”
    Ryan shakes his head, and gives me a tiny, forced smile. “Yeah, well…” He bites onto his lip, and then nods over to the sink. “Brush your teeth, okay? I want to kiss you.”

  214.  
      rustnuts

    “Really?”
    He frowns, and then lets out a small, but more genuine laugh. “This is surprising, why?”
    I drop my arms from his shoulders, shrug and then pull away from him, moving over to grab my toothbrush and do as he said.
    When I’m finished brushing my teeth, he’s waiting for me on my bed, lying down on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
    So, I practically gallop over and jump on top of him (or as much as my hangover will allow me) before falling down on my back beside him, resting my hands on my stomach.
    He smiles, before leaning overtop of me, dropping his own hand to my stomach, slipping it up under the material of my shirt and slowly beginning to rub small circles into my bare skin. I shiver, and he smiles wider, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips.
    I kiss back, snaking my hand around the back of his head, pulling him further into me allowing me to deepen the kiss, slipping some freshly washed tongue. God, it’s been too long since we’ve kissed like this. We should never go this long again, it should be a crime.
    He slides his hand further up my stomach, up to my ribs, fingers splaying up just brushing against my nipple. Two seconds later, he’s pulling away, giggling.
    “What?” I ask, pouting, lips tingling.
    He giggles some more then goes, “I’m scared you’re going to puke in my mouth.”
    “No, no, no,” I cry, grabbing onto his forearms, pulling him back down into me. “I won’t. I’m all puked out. Come on, Ry,” I beg, throwing in some more pout. “You can’t do this. It’s been too long!”
    He laughs, and pecks me another kiss. “I didn’t say I was going to stop, I just said I’m scared.”
    I lean up; reattaching his lips back to mine, and really don’t beat around the bush before stuffing my tongue back into his mouth. He slips his leg in between mine, pressing his crotch into mine and we moan at the exact same time into each other’s mouths.
    “Sex?” I ask, already somewhat breathless.
    He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know, Bren… is that a good idea?”
    “When is sex ever a bad one?” I point out with a smirk.
    “Well, it is when you’re hung-over and just puked your brains out,” he replies.
    I pout some more, leaning up to press a kiss to the side of his mouth before murmuring, “I’ll be fine. Just be gentle.”

  215.  
      rustnuts

    He sighs, defeated, even though I know it’s not like he was actually not going to have sex with me, I mean, he’s just as sex-deprived as I am. Okay, so it’s been a week, but still. Shut up. That’s a long time for us.
    I pull his shirt over his head, pressing a kiss to his chest, just above his nipple before I go to sit up, pulling off my own shirt and he goes to shimmy out of his boxers. I smirk and drool a little once Ryan’s boxers are on the floor, and his glorious penis is there for me to see, because oh my god, too long. Too long. I want to kiss it.
    Ryan leans over me, making his said, glorious penis, rub against my thigh, as he leans over to pull out a condom and lube and I slide out of my own boxers. Then he stops, looks over at me, and smiles. “We don’t need a condom anymore, do we?”
    I take a moment before shaking my head, face hot.
    He smiles wider, drops the condom back into the drawer. My heart tingles, and my penis throbs, and my stomach jumps, because I’ve never been fucked without a condom before in my life. I’ve never had someone in me without a piece of rubber between us. I’ve never had some come inside me before.
    He must notice my inner freaking out, because he leans down and presses a kiss to my lips while murmuring, “It’s great.” Then, he purses his lips together and goes, “well, when you’re not freaking out about… STD’s and things. Which, you wont be.”
    He lathers his fingers with lube (cherry flavored and scented, it’s new!) then crawls in between my legs before slipping his hand between my thighs, and pressing a finger to my entrance. He teases me at first, kissing me while running his finger along the ring of muscle.
    I whine. “Ryan, do it!”
    He smiles, and pushes in.
    I whimper, and push myself into his finger, wanting more. Too, too, too, too long. Too long, seriously. “You either need to hurry up or just skip the finger thing all together and just get in me right now,” I cry, digging my fingernails into his sides just to prove my point.
    He moans into my neck, twisting his finger around before immediately adding a second. “So hot,” he mumbles, hot breath stinging my skin.
    I whine some more.
    He twists and curls his fingers inside of me for about, thirty seconds, just brushing past my prostate before he pulls out. I’m rock hard between my thighs, and pressing against his abdomen.
    He squirts more cherry lube into his hand before tossing it onto the ground, then rubbing it onto himself, moaning at the cool feeling. I’m just lying their moaning like a poor, deprived whore. “Come on, Ryan!”
    He smiles, and grabs onto my right leg, hooking it onto his waist. “I’m going to go slow, okay?” he says as he lines himself up. “And I swear, if you puke on me…”
    “I won’t, I won’t,” I say quickly and breathlessly. And I swear, if he doesn’t get in me in two seconds, I will die.
    Then, his phone starts ringing on the bedside table (he doesn’t have a cool ringtone like me) and he stops, just seconds before pushing into me, and looks at it, like he’s actually considering answering it.
    “Ryan!” I cry. “Ignore it!”
    He sighs, and thankfully, he listens, grabs onto my hips and slowly pushes in. I moan, dropping my head back against the pillows, grabbing on tight to his biceps. “Yes,” I breathe out.
    He nibbles onto my chin as he grabs onto my other leg, bringing it up to his waist. “Is that okay?” he asks. “Do you feel alright?”
    “Yes, Ryan,” I groan, frustrated, squeezing my legs together around his waist. “I feel fine.”
    He smiles against my jaw, before kissing up to press a kiss to my lips, rocking back into me. “Mm, so good,” I moan, pushing back into him, pushing my tongue against his teeth.

  216.  
      rustnuts

    He tilts his hips a little, then pushes back into me, and, “Yessss, holy mother,” I moan, loudly. He’s gotten so good at this prostate finding thing.
    “Sh, you’re so loud,” he hisses, digging his fingers into the back of my thighs.
    “I know,” I pants, biting my lip. “But I can’t help it. It’s just so good.”
    He smirks, rocking back into me, hitting the exact same amazing, and wonderful place. He runs his teeth along my neck, long and hard enough to create a mark, before he runs his tongue back along it.
    Once he’s created a steady rhythm, he snakes his hand in between our bodies and grabs a hold of my leaking cock, slowly beginning to pump up and down, matching it with the same rhythm as he slides in and out of me.
    I don’t know if I want to cry or scream, but my legs are starting to feel a little numb so I know I’m close. I lick at Ryan’s mouth, and concentrate on the feeling of him rocking in and out of me – nothing in between – and the feeling of my orgasm building up in the pit of my stomach.
    His thrusts start to pick up, becoming a little more hard and rushed, and I know he’s close to. I grip onto his back, splaying my hands against his hot, damp skin and moan, loud. When I come, my brain actually goes a little fuzzy and maybe even black for a second or two. I think I even try to swear, and say Ryan’s name, but it just comes out as a big mesh of meaningless nothing.
    My hearts thumping, and he’s still pounding into me, making my head even more fuzzy. And I’ve already come, but I just don’t want him to stop, ever. Eventually he does though, coming deep inside me, filling me. And shit, I didn’t think it could get any better.
    He manages to get some coherent words out himself, because I catch, “Brendon, mother of goodness and great fucking, shit.”
    Mm, yeah. What he said.
    Once he’s caught his breath, he pulls out of me, and I can feel his warm come drip in between my thighs and just, deep sigh. We’re drenched with sweat, and panting, hard. And, wow.
    He takes a few minutes, laying half on top of me as we pant and gasp for air, sweaty chests rising and falling. And my god, I’m still seeing stars.
    Eventually, he pecks me a kiss before leaning over and grabbing onto his phone, then falls down on his back beside me, going through his call log. “It’s my dad… from the house,” he says, frowning.
    Yeah, if that doesn’t ruin the post-sex then I don’t know what does. “He’s home already?” I ask between heavy breaths.
    He shrugs. “I guess so. I mean, they don’t keep you in too long for alcohol poisoning anyway. They just pump your stomach, keep you in overnight then send you home. Not without suggesting AA first, which my dad, of course, always rejects.” He sighs, and puts his phone back down on the nightstand.
    “You’re not gonna call him?”
    He shakes his head and curls up next to me. “No. Not right now, anyway. Maybe later or something. I don’t really get what he has to say to me, I mean, he said everything he had to last night.” He rolls his eyes, and lets out another soft, muffled sigh.
    My heart’s still pounding against my chest. “What’d he say?”
    He shakes his head. “Nothing. The usual. Just him being a complete and utter asshole as always.”
    “Right,” I say, of course.
    We’re quiet for a few minutes, until Ryan slides up my body, pressing his lips to my jaw, just under my ear. “I’m happy we’re okay now, Bren.” He smiles.
    “Me too,” I reply, squeezing on his elbow.
    And god am I ever.

  217.  
      rustnuts

    Six hours, two more romping sessions and five missed calls later, Ryan finally gives in and decides to call his dad back.
    We’re in the living room, cramped together on my tiny couch, legs tangled together with Ryan’s boney chest pressed flush against my back, and his arm slung over my waist. While he ‘mhm’s and ‘yeah’s, and groans and sighs into the receiver behind me, I’m flipping through the channels until I land onGossip Girl and decide to keep it there (shutup, the boys are hot, okay?).
    Of course, the first thing Ryan says when he clicks off the phone five minutes later is, “I can’t believe you watch this crap.”
    “How could I not?” I ask, keeping my eyes glued to the TV. “Overly-dramatic shows about rich, spoiled kids are my favorite.”
    This earns me my own ‘mhm’.
    He sighs, and drops his head against the armrest with a loud and seemingly painful thunk. From the corner of my eye I watch him open and close, and then open and close, and then open and close his cell phone above him with a thoughtful expression on his face.
    As he goes for his fortieth round of his cell phone opening, I grab it from his hands, and place it on the floor next to me. “You’re distracting me,” I say.
    He gives me one more dramatic sigh, flops down onto his back, landing half on top of me due to the lack of space, but doesn’t protest.
    Ryan stays absolutely silent behind me for a few minutes, and I don’t go to start a conversation either because really, this show is intense. Finally, Ryan lets out an annoyed sigh/groan/noise thing, and turns back onto his side, hoisting himself up to look down at me, frowning. “So, what?” he asks, waving his other hand in the air to like, make a point or something. “You’re not gonna ask me about what my dad said?”
    Oh, yeah, right. That.
    I force my eyes off the TV, and crank my neck to look up at him. “Yes… I was waiting for you to tell me,” I lie.
    He gives me the look. “Right, okay,” he says. “Well, he wants me to come over so we can talk tomorrow.”
    “Oh yeah?” I ask, eyes drifting back to the TV. “Are you gonna go?”
    “I don’t know…” he muses, running his fingers through his hair. “I mean, what is he going to say to me that he hasn’t already said, you know? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve already heard everything he needs to say, right?”

  218.  
      rustnuts

    “Mm, yeah,” I mumble, distracted.
    Then, out of like, freaking nowhere, Ryan decides, hey lets jab my fingers into Brendon’s with an unbelievably hard force for no reason. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?!” I demand, grabbing onto my throbbing waist and tear my eyes away from the screen to shoot daggers at my oh-so-loving boyfriend. “I’ll probably have bruises the size of fucking… Pluto tomorrow now! Thanks!”
    He gives me the classic, unsympathetic Ryan eye-roll, and replies back, “You weren’t even listening to me!”
    “I was so!” I cry back defensively, sneaking a glance at the TV just as a commercial comes on (thank god, I was missing all the good stuff). “It’s just that this show is really interesting,” I explain, turning my attention back to Ryan. “It’s the season finale! Like, look, okay, there’s this chick, Georgina, and her and this other girl, Serena used to hang out and do stupid sh – ”
    “Brendon!” Ryan cries, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration as he goes to sit up. “Is this show actually more important?”
    “No!” I say automatically (it’s instinct), looking up at him with innocent eyes, but then I pause, and think it over before admitting, “well, in a way, yes. Maybe.” He stares at me, eyes like, literally flashing with rage and fire, so I quickly defend myself before I end up buried in the backyard, “I mean, like, only because, yeah, your dad’s an asshole, what else is new, you know?”
    He scowls.
    “Okay, okay. Sorry,” I say, sitting up. I grab onto his hip with one hand, and use the other to grab onto the remote, clicking it off, leaving us in complete darkness except for the dim light flooding in from the hall. “I’m all ears.”
    He twitches his lips together, forcing back the smile that I know is just dying to come out. “You’re a jerk,” he states with a bit of a pout.
    “I know.” I smirk, squeezing his hips, and practically pull him completely onto my lap. He giggles and ducks his face into my neck. “But somehow, you still love me,” I murmur into his hair.
    He sighs into my skin, then smiles as he goes, “Yeah, somehow.”
    – – –
    The next day, at almost exactly three on the dot, Ryan and I are heading up the Ross’ driveway, hand in hand and heads held high. Okay, and well, maybe Ryan’s is… but me on the other hand, well I’m pretty much shaking in my rainbow polka-dot Vans.
    Just as Ryan’s fingers are just inches away from the doorbell, he stops, turns to me and goes, “Okay, remember, if he starts any crap – which, he probably will – we’re gone.”
    “Mhmm.” I nod, and there’s no doubt that he can feel all my sweat leaking out of the palm of my hand into his.

  219.  
      rustnuts

    “And maybe stray away from calling him an ignorant asshole this time,” he adds on with a smirk.
    “Haha,” I reply dryly.
    He smiles, and kisses my cheek before ringing the doorbell. “It’s so weird,” he whispers as we stand and wait, hearts pounding (well, mine is, anyway), “ringing the doorbell to my own house.”
    “Mm, yeah,” I mumble, absentmindedly, too distracted by my own inner freaking outingness to pay much attention to what he’s saying. And sure, maybe I freaked out on the guy a little in the past (okay, fine, I totally told him where to go) but now I’m pretty much back to having absolutely no backbone and being scared shitless.
    I already tried convincing Ryan not to make me go, that he should talk to his dad in private, but nope, that was a total fail (I really need to work on my persuasion skills), so… well, that brings me here.
    Finally, what seems like eons later, the lock clicks on the other side of the door, and it swings open to reveal Mr. Ross, all fresh and clean from the hospital. He takes one look at me before going, teeth clenched, “I don’t want him- ”
    Ryan squeezes onto my hand, and shakes his head, which is still up high (mine, on the other hand, is so low, I’m practically doing a face-plant into the welcome mat). “If he goes, I go,” he says, cutting Mr. Ross off before he has a chance to finish his sentence (which I’m pretty sure I can figure out myself).
    I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat, but my mouth is as dry as a fucking desert, so it really doesn’t work out to well.
    Mr. Ross looks between us with an angry scowl on his manly, scary face. However, I’m surprised when he does a half-hearted flail of his hand, and grunts, “Fine. Come in.”
    I look up at Ryan like, please don’t make me do this. He’s going to kill me and then eat my fat ass for breakfast. He ignores me and tugs me in after his father by hand.
    Mr. Ross takes a seat on the big, leather chair in the living room, and Ryan pulls us down onto the couch across from him. I take a large gulp of air because judging by the look on Mr. Ross’ face, this will probably be one of my last.
    God, why didn’t I fake sick?
    Mr. Ross is staring down at our hands, still tightly intertwined together, lips twitching. I sit, and wait, and brace myself for his screaming and yelling, telling us to stop being so disgusting in his house, but long, excruciating seconds pass, and it never comes.
    I breathe a sigh of relief, and sneak a look over at Ryan whose eyes are burning holes into an opened, but full bottle of whiskey sitting on the table next to his father. Who, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice, and instead goes, voice rough, “I decided not to believe those rumors.”

  220.  
      rustnuts

    Ryan’s eyes immediately dart back over to his dad, a look of sheer shock on his face. “What?” he asks.
    Mr. Ross clears his throat, and then folds his hands onto his lap into a tight ball. “I believe you,” he repeats.
    “Wh – really?”
    He nods.
    “I, uh…” Ryan sputters at a complete loss of words. He opens his mouth, and then closes it once more before going, softly as ever, “Thanks.”
    He nods again, face tight.
    And I’m just sitting there, completely out of the loop, because I didn’t even know he knew about the rumors. I mean, honestly, after all the events that went on this weekend, the whole thing kind of even slipped my mind a little.
    Mr. Ross clears his throat again, and practically forces out, like the words actually hurt or something, “I’m sorry for what I said at the hospital. I should have known that just because you haven’t made the best choices lately, that you wouldn’t do something like that.”
    Um, wait. Whoa. Hold on. Pause. WHAT? Did Mr. Ross actually just apologize?
    Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, just as surprised as me, and yeah, he definitely did. “Um… thank you,” he breathes, face lighting up.
    Mr. Ross stares back at him just as hard. He looks over at the opened whiskey bottle next to him, fingers flexing, and I know he wants it so badly. However, I’m surprised when he swallows, and looks back at us, leaving the bottle to sit there, untouched. “Look,” he starts, “I’ve been doing some thinking lately, especially when I was in the hospital. You’re my son.”
    Yes! A+ for Pastor George!
    Ryan raises an eyebrow.
    Mr. Ross takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’re my son, and I’ve already lost your mother. I don’t want to lose you too.”
    I turn to look at Ryan, surprised, and he just bites onto his lip, trying to keep his face straight, then nods for him to continue.
    He clears his throat awkwardly. “This – ” Pause, deep breath, “this doesn’t mean that I accept the decisions you made or your…” another pause, deep breath, pained look, “relationship with… Brendon, but I’m not going to lose my only son over it.”
    Oh thanks. Try not to sound too disgusted when you say my name, buddy.
    Ryan looks over at me, eyes wide, and a tiny smile makes its way across his lips. “Really? Are you sure?” he asks.
    Mr. Ross gives a tight nod. “Yes. I’m sure I’ll learn to live with it.”

  221.  
      rustnuts

    Ryan’s face breaks into a beam, and he looks from me, and back to his dad. To my surprise, Mr. Ross even smiles back a little. But just a bit. He clears his throat, rubs his mouth then goes, as he stares down at his lap, “You’re my son, Ryan, and I love you.”
    I barely have time to blink before Ryan’s jumping off the couch, and over to his dad, throwing his arms around his neck. “I love you too, dad!” he cries, voice muffled in his sweater.
    To say that Mr. Ross looks a little taken back at Ryan’s sudden outburst is a bit of an understatement. At first, he stays stiff under Ryan, eyes wide, but after a few moments pass, he slowly, and awkwardly, moves one hand up to pat Ryan on the back.
    I look away, feeling a bit awkward myself.
    Finally, Ryan peels himself off his dad, and sits down beside me, absolutely glowing. I cough awkwardly.
    We sit in silence for awhile, but Ryan doesn’t seem to notice how awkward it is, because he’s still sitting there beaming. Eventually, Mr. Ross does another awkward throat clearing and goes, “There was this retreat for ministers I went to a few weeks back, and there was this one man I got on with pretty well, and I ended up telling him the situation I was in with you. He told me he struggled with the exact same thing a year or so ago with his brother, and he told me about this book he read, that really helped him see it differently and helped him to accept his brother. So, when I got home I decided to read it, and he was right. It still clearly stated that homosexuality is a sin, but it helped me open my eyes and realize that just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you’re going to hell, and it doesn’t mean that you can’t be a Christian, or that God doesn’t love you just as much.”
    This only makes Ryan beam more, and let out this tiny, excited squeal thing. I’m almost positive he’s gonna get up and spontaneously hug him again, but instead, he stays seated beside me, practically jumping in his seat. “That’s great, Dad! I was beginning to think you were never going to come around,” he says, and I’m pretty much expecting him to break out with something like, Oh golly gee! any second, and it’s kind of really scaring me.
    “I wasn’t expecting to,” he admits.
    Ryan beams some more than clutches back onto my hand, and squeezes, hard. This only makes Mr. Ross turn his attention to me, and I just sit and shake under his gaze. Finally, he goes, “You know, you’re not so bad.”
    “Uh, thanks?” I squeak.
    He chuckles. “I have to give it to you, for what you said to me that one time. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best thing to say to your – ” Oh, oh, oh! Come on, George! Come on, say it. Your boyfriend, “Ryan’s father.” Oh, damn. So close. “But it was what really made me start thinking.”
    “Um, no problem?” Oh my god, my stomach is going to fall out of my butt.
    He nods, then turns his attention back to a jumping Ryan. He takes a moment before saying, “Ryan, I want you to move back in.”
    Ryan stops jumping, and his grin fades. “Dad…” he starts.
    “Ryan, this is your house. You can’t just stay at the Urie’s forever,” he points out.
    Yes! Yes, he can! He can stay forever and ever and ever and ever.
    “But, I – ” He sighs, and slouches down in the chair, grip going soft on my hand. “I’ll think about it.”
    No! No! You will not think about it, Ryan! There’s nothing to fucking think about! You are not moving back here and leaving me all by myself!!!!
    I stare at him.

  222.  
      rustnuts

    He looks back at me for a total of 0.454 seconds, ignores my pleading look, then turns back to his dad to continue, “We’ll see how it goes. I don’t want to move in here and then have you turn around in a week, and go back to how you used to be.”
    “It won’t.”
    Ryan bites his lip, and shakes his head. “But I don’t know that.”
    Mr. Ross sighs, defeated, and slowly nods his head, “Fine. That’s fair, I guess.”
    No! That is not fucking fair! That is fucking cruel and mean and just no! No! No!
    The rest of the time we’re there, I sit, and pout, and whine, and force myself to not start crying, because this is so not cool. When we finally leave, Ryan gives his dad another hug, and he gives him another awkward pat back.
    We don’t talk about it for the rest of the night.
    – – –
    School the next day is no better than it was Friday – if not, it’s worse.
    Everyone is still going on that we’re whores, and everyone still believes it, and even more claimed that me and Ryan came onto them for money. I guess nothing exciting enough happened this weekend that would make people move on from Ryan and me.
    By the time lunchtime rolls around, my back is probably completely covered in bruises by being pushed into lockers so many times. Ryan meets me at my locker after class, since Spencer’s still mad at him and he doesn’t want to walk into the cafeteria alone. His binders clutched to his chest, and his eyes are red and puffy, and he looks like a little, lost orphan boy or something, so I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tight.
    He whimpers.
    “Just one more month,” I murmur into his ear. “One more month and you won’t ever have to deal with these people again.”
    He nods.
    “Just don’t let them know you care,” I say. “Don’t let Dayna think she won.”
    He nods again, sniffs, and pulls his face from my shoulder. “Okay,” he mumbles, forcing a small smile. “Let’s go.”
    From the time it takes to get from my locker to Ryan’s, then from there to the cafeteria, we get more name calls and jeers than I can count, but we just ignore it and pretend we don’t hear it.
    When we get to our table, I’m greeted with a sympathetic look from both Jon and Spencer. Ryan also gets an equally sympathetic look from Jon, if not more, and only a half-look from Spencer (which is a whole lot better than a bitchface, I’ll tell you that).
    Neither of them bring up the rumors, which I am forever grateful for because I am so not in the mood to be discussing it anymore at the moment. I just want a peaceful lunch with my boyfriend and best friends (whoa, wait. What? Did I actually just refer to Spencer as my best friend? Weird). Instead, Jon decides to bring up Friday, which is almost just as bad, “So, um, how did it go with Friday and the, uh…” He pauses, and darts his eyes between me and Ryan.

  223.  
      rustnuts

    “He knows.”
    “Oh, okay.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “So, how’d it go? Did your parents find out?”
    I nod, jabbing the little plastic straw into my juice box. “Yeah. My dad knew right away, and my mom… well, I got a little sobered up before her and Ryan got home, but my dad told her anyways and… well, I can’t hang out with either of you for a week,” I explain regretfully.
    “Aw, shit. Really?” Jon asks. “Do they like, hate me now?”
    I snort. “My mom? Really? Is she even capable of hating anyone?”
    Jon shrugs, and swipes a carrot from Spencer’s tray. He scowls, and Jon doesn’t even notice. “I guess not.”
    “I take it your mom didn’t care?”
    Now it’s Jon’s turn to snort, and says nothing else, but he doesn’t have to anyway because it’s his mom. I mean, you think my mom is pretty cool and laid-back, but compared to Mrs. Walker, she’s really got nothing on her.
    Jon turns his attention to Ryan, who’s fidgeting uncomfortably next to me. I rest a steady hand on his knee, and he calms down a bit. “I’m so sorry about your dad, Ryan,” Jon says sincerely.
    Ryan looks up from the table, surprised that Jon is even talking to him, let alone even being nice, which is honestly kind of stupid because I don’t think Jon even has a mean bone in his body. “Um, Th-Thanks,” he stutters.
    Jon sends him one of his classic, warm smiles that could make the coldest of cold melt into a big, cozy, warm pile of goo. Oh, I love Jon.
    Spencer just stares at Ryan as he nibbles on a carrot.
    A couple of minutes of silence pass, before Spencer breaks it by clearing his throat. “So, I was thinking about going to a movie this Friday. Pineapple Express?” He suggests, looking between me and Jon. “What do you think?”
    Jon nods, and steals another carrot while Spencer looks at me, waiting for my answer.
    I bite my lip, guilt tugging at my brain, because what happened the last time I left Ryan alone? I sneak a quick look over at Ryan, whose nodding, but fuck does he ever look sad. “Uh… sure,” I mumble. Fuck, terrible person.
    Ryan forces a small smile.
    Spencer looks between us for a few moments, a thoughtful expression on his face, before he keeps his eyes on Ryan and goes, “So, are you in, Ryan, or are you just gonna ditch us again?”
    Ryan looks up at him, eyes wide, and mouth practically hanging open in shock. “Um,” he starts, taking a deep breath as he shakes his head casually, “no, I uh, I think I’m over the whole ditching thing.”
    Spencer’s lips twitch into a small smile, and it’s so small that it barely even counts, but it’s there, and I see it, and by the glowing look on Ryan’s face, I know he does too. “Good.”
    Ryan’s beaming, then I’m beaming, then all four of us are sitting there beaming, in a cafeteria full of kids who hate us because we’re gay, and think that Ryan and I are drug-addicted prostitutes – however, despite all of this, I can’t help but think that everything is going to be just fine.

  224.  
      rustnuts

    He’s missed this, the flicking motion and fall of ash, the glow and the taste of paper. The smoke curls around his fingers like an old friend, rushes through his veins like the fountain of fucking youth and he’s seventeen again and doesn’t care what anyone thinks.
    If Sam knew he’d probably bitch, of course, but Dean drops a smoldering kiss on the patch of skin just under Castiel’s ear.
    “You’ll just heal me, right?” he says and his breath is white and tangles up with the hair that curls against Cas’ neck.
    “I shouldn’t.”
    “But you will anyway.”
    Cas doesn’t answer with words but he tips his head back like he’s baring his throat and Dean smiles against his pulse, the beat of his heart because that’s always the way it’s going to be with them.
    “Come here,” he says and tugs Cas around on the bed to face him.
    The cigarette has burnt low and it’s getting close to the filter, but it’s enough. He draws back, lets the smoke rest in his mouth as with his free hand he cups Cas’ jaw. A brush of thumb to lips and they’re falling open. Angels are fast learners when you know how to reward them.
    He leans forward and closes the distance between them; it’s not far to go and then their lips are together, smooth and warm, the lightest contact of contours. Dean lets out the breath he’s been holding and feels the smoke slide, rich and damp over his lips, Cas’ tongue.
    Cas doesn’t cough when he pulls away, but Dean didn’t really think he would. He licks his lips, chasing the flavor, and then leans back in for more.

  225.  
      rustnuts

    “Is the circus in town?” Dean quips as he eases the car down the street. There are people on every side, clogging the streets.
    Life on the road isn’t really so bad – Sam’s come to it the hard way and learned to love it – but when you’re always on the move it’s easy to forget the things that stay the same. Pride Month on one bit of highway is the same as Pride Month on another when it’s just two people and cans of flat beer. It takes coming to a city to remember that regular people mark the passage of time by means other than roadsigns and turnoffs.
    “I don’t know how were supposed to find something weird in this place.” Dean’s peering out the window and with this many people around he really should have his eyes on the road. They’re going slowly, though, they have to. Around them there are people in drag, in glitter, half naked. “Freakville city limits.” Dean makes a face.
    “Dude!” Sam glares at him.
    “What?”
    And the thing is, Dean’s honestly confused. Sam rolls his eyes. “Nothing, I just…”
    “Just what?”
    “I thought you’d be a bit more down with all this, you know?”
    Outside there’s music blaring but suddenly it seems like it’s happening a million miles away, like it’s on a different planet. And in some ways it is. This car isn’t really part of the world, it’s something alien to festivals and cities and definitely to pop music.
    Dean’s knuckles go white on the steering wheel, even though his voice is casual as he replies, “Nope. Still got my balls.”
    And that’s what the problem is. Because Dean’s not a homophobe, he’s just an idiot. He’ll let Sam walk in on him being fucked into the mattress – and seriously, that was way, way more than Sam had ever wanted to see of either his brother or Castiel – but let a perfect stranger see him hold hands with a dude? No way.
    “You’re sleeping with a guy, Dean. I’m okay with it. You should be too.”
    “I am okay with it.”
    They pull up to a red light and the silence is like glass, just waiting for pressure so the fissures crack and split. Dean drums his fingers against the wheel out of beat with the distant music and Sam winds down his window. It all comes to a head when a man in glittering cowboy attrite spots them. He’s fey and skinny and swaying, probably drunk, and he grins wide as he waves, yells out “Take it off, Sweetheart.” Sam isn’t sure which one of them he’s talking to.
    The light turns green and Dean’s foot is on the floor in an instant. Speed, now and the colors on the sidewalk blur.
    “Is that what you want me to be like? Really?” he snaps as they speed away from the center of town, from the celebrations.
    “Happy?” Sam glares out of the window. “Yeah, Dean, actually. It is.”

  226.  
      rustnuts

    Cas thrusts, pushing his hips down and down until Dean feels like he’s going to break, like he’s going to fucking shatter into a million fucking pieces because it’s too deep and too hard. The hands holding his wrists are digging in, binding tight enough to bruise. And he wants it, wants more, pushes into it.
    But-
    “Look at me,” Cas says from above. “Dean. Look at me.”
    Dean tries, he does but it’s too much, too much. Cas’ eyes when he meets them fuck him without lube, too big and he’s not ready. He throws back his head, scrunches his face, yells as he comes trying to escape and surrender all at once.

  227.  
      rustnuts

    She’s pretty in the way that all women fifteen years too young for him are pretty, with her midriff on show and a strand of her blonde hair wrapped around one finger while she listens to him.
    Dean smiles while he sips his whiskey, says, “Yeah, I’m a professor, actually. Of Latin.”
    “Wow.” Emma’s (Emily’s?) eyes go wide. “You must be really smart.”
    And it’s nice, this rapt attention, the pout of her lips when she asks him about what he does. It’s nice that she looks at his eyes and not through them, that she sits up straighter when he looks right at her because she knows she’s on display.
    “Omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas,” Dean says, leaning closer.
    She giggles and it’s a pretty sound and there’s nothing in it but happiness. “What does that mean?”
    “It means you’ve got really pretty eyes.”
    She laughs again and her tits jiggle with it.
    It would be easy. Too easy maybe. She’s young and soft and he when Dean pictures himself, scarred and middle aged, rutting on top of her it makes him feel ill. She’s tracing something carved into the bar with one long red finger nail and she deserves a guy who wouldn’t look at it and think ‘claw’.
    Besides. The bar door has just swung open. A guy in a trenchcoat has just walked it.
    Dean smiles apologetically at Emily (Emma?) as he stands up. “Excuse me. One of my colleagues is here, I need to go see him.”
    He buys her another drink before leaving her there. Least he can do.
    “Hey, Cas.” He slides into the booth on the other side of the room.
    “Dean.” Cas frowns at him. “I’m late.”
    “Yeah, I kind of noticed.”
    “You had company.”
    It’s not an accusation. But there’s already a bead of guilt, yellow and festering, in the pit of Dean’s stomach and he knows Castiel too well to think there’s nothing under that deadpan delivery.
    “I was just talking to her,” he says, rests his arms on the table and avoids Cas’ eyes. “That’s all it was.”
    Cas is silent for a long moment and then, “No,” he says and it’s gentle, like he understands.
    “Stop reading my fucking thoughts.”
    Dean really should have got himself another drink before coming over here.
    “I don’t mind, Dean,” Cas is saying. “If you want sex then you should have it.”
    And it takes a moment to sink it, but when it does he’s gaping, all the irritation sucked out of him, poof, gone, like Cas has said some magic words and the whole fucking world has flipped upside down. “What the hell?” he says and his mouth is like a fucking desert.
    “You’re attracted to her. I don’t mind.”
    He means it. Dean’s spent the last handful of years learning ever muscle in that face – that mask – that’s looking at him from across the booth.
    “You should mind,” he says and he knows it’s impossible, like toothpaste back into a tube.
    Cas tips his head to one side, his eyes narrow. It’s a searching gaze, too familiar. “She’s just a woman. There’s nothing-”
    “Can we stop talking about it?”
    “If you want.”

  228.  
      rustnuts

    Dean was druggy with whatever grog they’d given him (…wait, that wasn’t right…) but he still managed to glare when the door opened. “What are you doing here?” he snapped and was instantly aware of just how fucking weak he was, with plaster up to his dick and tubes in and out of his arms. The hospital gown was way too flimsy for this kind of meeting.
    Castiel hesitated in the doorway. “Sam told me you were injured.”
    “Sam should learn to shut his mouth.”
    “He said I shouldn’t come. I just wanted…”
    Dean had the television on and he looked at that instead of at Castiel. It was a football game. It was really fucking interesting and Dean was totally fucking riveted.
    “I should go,” Castiel said after a few awkward moments. Awkward for him, of course. Dean was fucking riveted.
    But when Castiel turned to leave – and why did he do that when he could just disappear? – Dean felt his stomach clench. The hospital was sharp smelling and white everywhere. Sam was off finishing the werewolf job, he wouldn’t’ be back for a few days yet.
    “No,” he blurted, because he was a fucking idiot and probably high. “Sit down.”
    The seat next to the bed was uncomfortable, Dean knew because Sam had bitched about it. It didn’t seem to bother Castiel.
    Up close he was…exactly the same. It could have been yesterday that they met for the first time. And that wasn’t fair because Dean was some old fucking geezer half shredded by a creature he should have been able to take out with one hand behind his back. It wasn’t fair because Castiel looked at him in exactly the same way he always did and everything about Dean was different.
    “You’re supposed to tell me I’m looking good,” he said.
    “You don’t like it when I lie to you.”
    Castiel’s eyes…he’d forgotten the color, the depth. It didn’t quite translate to photos and most of those he’d destroyed anyway.
    Dean looked away. The television. That was safer.
    “Hey, can you hack the porn channel on this thing?”
    “Of course.” Castiel didn’t move. Dean rolled his eyes.
    “Then could you at least get me some water? Please?”
    There was a water cooler in the hall and flimsy plastic cups, but when Castiel returned to the room it was with a real glass and water that tasted sweet and heady when it slipped down Dean’s throat. It was probably from Eden or something. Dean had missed wondering about things like that.
    When he had drunk his fill he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, wincing at the weakness in it. Castiel was still watching him.
    “So. Uh…” Dean put the glass down. There were fingerprints smudged in the condensation, his and Cas’ all blurring together, impossible to tell whose were whose. He looked at that while he asked, “How are you?”

  229.  
      rustnuts

    he finished up, he started the car, he turned around and drove back to the bar.[Jun. 14th, 2006|01:58 am]   [Tags|http://cyclogenesis.livejournal.com/tag/my%20fic, http://cyclogenesis.livejournal.com/tag/panic%21%20at%20the%20disco, http://cyclogenesis.livejournal.com/tag/rpf
    Hey Portland residents: I’ll be down there for the Panic! At The Disco show on 7/26/2006. Let’s hang out, yeah?
    Tonight it took me a good ten seconds to remember how to spell “winces” because my mind kept going yeah, *wentzes*. :-/ I did used to be cool, right? Didn’t I? Did I make that up?
    Anyway, I wrote fic.
    Title: That Left A Mark
    Author: Sara
    Rating: NC-17
    Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
    Summary: Alcohol initially serves as a stimulant, then induces feelings of relaxation and reduced anxiety. Consumption of two or three drinks in an hour can impair judgment, lower inhibitions, and induce mild euphoria.
    Disclaimer: This never happened.
    Note: For Lah, for listening.
    The sky is dark and the streetlights are bright and the door to the bus is six inches from Brendon’s face, that distance rapidly decreasing.
    “You alright?” Tom asks, hand on his shoulder. “You gonna get in okay? Anyone in there in case you die of alcohol poisoning? Ryan stayed behind, didn’t he?”
    “Ryan,” Brendon mumbles, trying to remember how the doorknob works. Lefty loose-y, righty tighty- wait, no, it’s a doorknob, not a screw – Tom opens it for him, catching his hip when he stumbles a little.
    “He gonna be able to carry you to bed if you pass out?” Tom asks, then pauses. “You okay with sleeping on the floor?”
    “‘M’fine,” Brendon says, and it’s true, it will be true, he’ll get up the bus stairs and in and somewhere there’ll be a place he can sit down and it’ll be epically fucking spectacular. “Fine,” he repeats, one stair navigated, two to go- yes, yes. He’s in.
    “Don’t die,” Tom advises him. Brendon shuts the door with a little more force than was maybe necessary, and his thigh catches karmic retribution in the form of the sharp edge of the table. One hand lands on it, holding, and when he looks up he sees Ryan, not so sharply outlined as usual – Brendon blinks, better – coming toward him, in front of him, touching him. Hand on his shoulder, concerned look, and Brendon almost mutters something ridiculous like take care of me, but he’s fine, he doesn’t need it.
    “Long night?” Ryan asks, and Brendon’s not even sure. He wants to ask what time it is, but it doesn’t matter, it’s Too Late and he should be In Bed Asleep At A Reasonable Hour, the voice in his head says, adding emphatic caps and sounding scarily similar to his mother. Ryan’s leading him to the couch, which is not his bunk, and where he can’t lie down, which Brendon is having a problem with, but Ryan’s tugging him down, the leather soft and Ryan so warm against him. “C’mere,” Ryan says, and there’s something in his voice that Brendon can’t quite place, can’t think of a word for. Can’t think of much, right now, but Ryan’s hands on him.
    Ryan’s hands. Are on him, one unbuttoning his shirt, fingers sliding in to touch his collarbone, and when Brendon looks up Ryan’s face is right there, close, so close, so fucking warm, cheeks flushed with heat. This is why Brendon doesn’t get drunk when he’s lonely, because suddenly everything’s- it’s all charged, velvet electric, and Brendon wants to run his knuckles over Ryan’s cheek, feel soft hot skin, press his face to Ryan’s neck and leave kisses there like gifts. Ryan’s turned to him, sitting sideways on the couch, his other hand on Brendon’s neck, thumb stroking over his jaw, touching him, and it’s just- it’s Ryan, and he doesn’t get Ryan half the time, doesn’t get what he’s doing here, how this even fucking happened, and now. Now Ryan’s getting closer.
    Closer. And Brendon can’t help but touch him, can’t help but want. Not need, yet, just the liquored flow of blood in his veins reaching out to Ryan, pulling Brendon closer, magnetized. Ryan stops halfway through unbuttoning Brendon’s shirt and leans into him, wraps his arms around Brendon’s neck, and Brendon sees it again, that dark look in Ryan’s eyes, there and gone when Brendon squeezes his eyes shut, feels his lips touch Ryan’s cheek, not a slide or a carress but a slow sweet drag until he kisses the rise of Ryan’s cheekbone, then lower, nuzzling behind his ear and flicking his tongue out to taste the skin there. Ryan moans, and he does it again, kisses his jaw, feels Ryan’s hands tangle in his hair.

  230.  
      rustnuts

    Brendon’s hips shift up, involuntary, and then Ryan’s moving into his lap, straddling him, thighs impossibly hot and perfect around his waist. Ryan moves against him, heat-blurred and slow like asphalt on a hot day, and Brendon blinks, focuses on the open collar of Ryan’s shirt, the faint redness marking where he’d kissed maybe harder than he’d realized. “Sorry,” he murmurs against Ryan’s collarbone, and Ryan arches up into him, says his name. Brendon feels the syllables vibrate in Ryan’s throat, licks out to taste them, taste Ryan. He’s hot, so hot all around Brendon, against Brendon’s erection, pushing against the front of his pants already, and Ryan’s hand is snaking down between them, making Brendon bite his lip because this is- they can’t- fuck, he doesn’t want to think about these things.
    Ryan tugs at the front of his pants, reaching in and stroking him, sudden grasp of his cock pulling a startled moan from him. He leans his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder, gasping as Ryan strokes him again, and there are a hundred reasons- “Ryan,” Brendon says, his voice cracking, unsteady, scared- he doesn’t feel it until he hears it, and then he realizes he’s shaking, hands trembling where they’ve settled on Ryan’s waist.
    “Shh,” Ryan murmurs into his ear. “It feels good, right?” And it does, it does feel good, but- Brendon leans his head against the back of the couch, away from Ryan, away from his skin, gleaming faintly with sweat where his collar’s pushed open, right where Brendon wants to set his teeth and feel Ryan’s flesh yield and give. If he just closes his eyes he’ll be able to think, be able to understand this. “It feels good,” Ryan whispers, kissing Brendon’s neck, along his jaw, “it feels good.” Slower strokes on his cock now, teasing as Ryan kisses the corner of his mouth. “You want this,” Ryan tells him.
    He kisses Brendon, licking at his lower lip before pushing in, and Brendon lets him, kisses back, tightens his hands on Ryan’s waist to- something, fuck, push him away, bring him closer, mark him so Brendon will know, tomorrow, that this was real. Ryan’s skin is fever hot, and he’s shadow black and gold in the lamplight streaming through the tinted windows, and Brendon’s so busy staring he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening when Ryan takes his hand, guides it upward to his mouth and sucks two of Brendon’s fingers in. His cheeks hollow, and Brendon feels his cock twitch, wanting that mouth on him, wanting-

  231.  
      rustnuts

    “Put them in me,” Ryan whispers, sliding Brendon’s fingers out with a soft wet sound, and Brendon blinks at him – in him? – oh fuck, in him. Ryan slides off of him, is barely gone a second before he’s back, bare from the waist down and getting his shirt off too until he’s naked in Brendon’s lap. He takes hold of Brendon’s wrist and directs him back, until Brendon’s sliding his fingers along the cleft of Ryan’s ass, and Ryan hisses when he curls them in, rubbing against him and watching Ryan bite his lip as he strokes him, there, pushing just the tip of one finger in as Ryan shudders and says, “Both, at once, you won’t hurt me.”
    But he’s lying, because he winces, and Brendon almost takes them back out, but Ryan grabs his wrist and says, “No,” low and strained, and Brendon wonders if he’s supposed to touch Ryan, jerk him off, if Ryan wants him to- jesus, what the fuck are they doing, Brendon doesn’t do this. He’s starting to panic, a little, the intoxicated heaviness of his limbs bleeding away, leaving him shivering. Ryan catches his face between his hands and kisses him again, moving in his lap, riding his fingers and panting against Brendon’s mouth, and says, “Fuck me, fuck me.”
    “I- how?” Brendon asks, feeling immensely stupid the moment he says it, but Ryan seems to get it. He moves off of Brendon’s lap, tugging him down on top of him on the couch until Brendon’s leaning over him, one hand braced against the seat, the other pushing his own pants down. He watches his movements like they’re someone else’s; someone else stroking his cock, once, twice, someone else pushing Ryan’s legs up, someone else spreading his cheeks and pushing in, tight hot just wet enough around him and then it isn’t someone else anymore, it’s Brendon, and he’s really doing this. He thrusts his cock into Ryan’s ass, gripping his thighs, thumbs pressed to the sensitive inner curves hard enough to leave white imprints that dissolve to marked red.

  232.  
      rustnuts

    Ryan’s mouth drops open, his head pressing back against the couch as he arches up, moans, “Oh god,” like he’s been waiting for this, wanting this, and all Brendon wants is to look into his eyes, see Ryan, see this happening so maybe later he can figure outwhy. Why Ryan wanted this from him, why they’re doing this now- but Ryan’s eyes stay closed, even when Brendon thrusts in hard, when he lets his body take over where his mind won’t, and get what he needs from Ryan, since Ryan’s clearly getting what he needs – what Brendon never knew he needed – from Brendon. Brendon releases his legs, touches Ryan’s stomach, his sides, brushes over his nipples and draws a gasp from him- Ryan’s eyes stay closed.
    “Fuck, look at me,” Brendon whispers before he even realizes he’s opened his mouth, and Ryan’s eyes open.
    He licks his lips, touches Brendon’s hand, says, “Harder,” and Brendon fucks him harder, wraps his fingers around that white wrist and holds on tight as he thrusts in, rough, uneven, but the friction is perfect. Ryan clenches around him, whimpers, “Yeah, yeah,” as Brendon bends him further, getting as close as he can until Ryan can’t look away from him, until he’s forced to meet Brendon’s eyes.
    “God, you- what do you want from me?” Brendon asks, unable to stop himself, unable to stop this. He can’t remember saying yes and he can’t remember Ryan asking, and now he’s inside Ryan, and he can’t even convince himself that he’s not the one who’s really getting fucked. He slams in, feeling the sting of skin slapping skin, knowing that he’ll probably feel it tomorrow, although not half as much as Ryan will. Ryan doesn’t answer him, just cries out on a particularly deep thrust, and Brendon tangles a hand in Ryan’s hair, kissing him, thrusting his tongue into Ryan’s mouth and keeping a tight grip on him until he gets dizzy. They separate, both gasping for air, and Brendon’s hips don’t stop moving, working faster as he feels himself get closer, even through the density of drunkeness, maybe only intoxication now. Ryan gets his hand down between them and roughly jerks at his own cock, panting against Brendon’s mouth.

  233.  
      rustnuts

    It only takes a minute before Ryan’s coming, bucking his hips up and shuddering against Brendon, nearly soundless, and it’s not the tightness or the way Ryan’s legs grip his waist that does it for Brendon, it’s when Ryan gasps out, “Brendon,” and Brendon flashes back to- before, however long ago it was, one of the bright times between the flickering blackouts of memory when Ryan was just leaning against him, letting Brendon move his mouth over his skin, his fluttering pulse. He shudders, pushes deep, and comes inside Ryan.
    When he returns to awareness, it’s to Ryan’s hands on him, one combing gently through his hair, the other rubbing lightly at the juncture between his shoulder and neck. “We should get you to bed,” Ryan murmurs, and it’s very much not an invitation. Brendon lifts up off him, feeling dizzy and slightly sick, and it’s only Ryan’s hand on his back, Ryan’s whispered, “Hey, are you okay?” that stops Brendon from- something. He shakes his head, then nods, and then stands, all of which by themselves were bad ideas; together, near catastrophe. Ryan rises, tugs his pants on, and leads Brendon, still half-dressed, back to his own bunk.
    The mattress feels like bliss when Brendon gets down on it, shoving his clothes the rest of the way off and deciding that fuck it, he’s sleeping naked. Ryan watches him, pulls the covers up around Brendon’s shoulders. Brendon wants to say something, but mostly he just wants to pass out, and not. Not be dealing with this. Ryan’s looking at him, and that dark look is gone from his eyes; Brendon wishes he could forget it as easily.
    “Sleep it off,” Ryan says quietly, and kisses Brendon on the forehead, then closes the curtain of Brendon’s bunk.

  234.  
      rustnuts

    “Listen to me you little shit!” The ruby red look on the king’s robust cheeks as he shouted down toward his son would have terrified anyone who wasn’t named Brendon Urie.
    It didn’t scare Brendon though because he had been raised by that face; he had seen that face at its weakest points, and he knew that face loved him. Sadly, the naked boy the king had grasped by the wrists did not share such comforts. Tears streaked his gingerbread skin and wet the long shaggy tips of his sandy blonde hair.
    The king thrust his finger at the trembling boy’s loins. “What is that?” he roared towards his son. “Is that a vagina? Is that a cunt?”
    Brendon sighed, “No father, it certainly is not. If you were to turn him around however —
    “Then what, pray tell, was he doing in your bed?” the king interrupted, lurching his entire body into the sentence. The boy at the end of the king’s arm whimpered as the large man crushed down on his wrist.
    “I think you’re hurting him,” Brendon stated, his voice stoic and matter of fact. “If you break his hand, he won’t be able to clean the ashes from our hearths and haul them to the forest paths. Seeing as that is his only job, with a broken hand he won’t be much use to you at all anymore. So I would advise that you loosen your grip. He has done nothing wrong. He isn’t of my persuasion. He was merely in my bed doing things that I had asked him to do. He is a good and loyal servant, and his family has worked in this palace for several DECADES.”
    Brendon prayed his calm, methodical reasoning would spare the boy. He had always gotten along with him, and in Brendon’s mind this was all senseless. He was not attracted to women; his father had known that since he was 14 and yet feigned shock each time it was pointed out.
    It was harder for Brendon because he was constantly being compared to his brother Brent. He hated Brent, and sometimes felt bad for that. He shouldn’t hate his own brother, let alone his twin brother.

  235.  
      rustnuts

    At least they looked nothing alike. He thanked heaven everyday that they had been born fraternal twins and not identical because he would have been scarred for life if he had to look at Brent’s face each time he used a mirror.
    “Then again,” Brent drolled, leaning up against the doorway of the room smirking at his brother’s frustration, “If you were to break the boy’s wrist, it would prevent him from ever using that hand in the future to, uh, ‘pervert’ my brother… so to speak.”
    The boy in the king’s grasp whipped his head to stare at the drawling voice in horror. Brent snorted under his breath, and snaked his hand to his own mouth to blow the boy a kiss. If sarcasm could kill the servant would have died on the spot.
    Yes, Brendon was always compared to Brent, and he hated Brent. If the word hate were written on every grain of sand in the Arabian desert it would STILL not equal the amount of pure, unadulterated loathing he had for the venomous creature standing in his doorway.
    He had realized he hated Brent when they were both 8 years old. He had wandered out into the forest which was a place neither of them were allowed to go but still seemed to spend half of their childhoods there.
    Everything was so beautiful that day; the pigments were so saturated with color that the grass literally shimmered in the sunlight. It was perfect except for the horrid stench that filled his nostrils.
    He hadn’t been able to find his brother all day, and that was never a good thing. This stench wasn’t a good thing either, and he worried that the two were connected. It smelled like rotting copper, if metal could rot. He choked a little but kept going until he found the same spot he and his brother always went to when in the forest.
    It was a beautiful clearing with a single awkward tree in the center. Awkward because, halfway through growing, the tree had taken a sharp twist to the side before finishing its ascent. It looked like a crooked elbow in the middle of the trunk.
    Best of all, even better than the crooked trunk, the bottom of the tree’s base was hollow and Brendon was able to sneak inside and hide there. The opening was small and usually covered in shrubs. Not even Brent knew about the base of the tree, and if Brendon could help it… he never would.
    But that day, NOTHING about the tree was beautiful, because it was decorated with dozens of dead animal bodies. Brendon’s heart stopped for a second, skipping a beat as though his whole person had slammed against a wall.
    There were at least 24 animals, strung in the branches of the tree, and several more dead on the ground. Some had decayed entirely, and some were still bleeding.
    Brendon recognized several animals from the palace, and a few had obviously come from the forest.
    Then, out of sheer devastation, his knees started to go weak when he recognized Nina, his cat, strung by her left hind paw. She had been crushed in the middle and her innards hung dully from her mouth.

  236.  
      rustnuts

    Tears welled in his eyes, but he was too terrified to make a sound, too afraid that he too could be strung up on the tree by whatever monster did this.
    Brent was bent over, never aware of Brendon; he held a rabbit in his hands and was scooping out the animal’s eye with the tip of an archery arrow. The rabbit was still alive.
    That day was the last time Brendon ever ate meat, and it was the first time he had ever truly HATED his brother.
    “P-p-please your majesty,” the servant boy’s voice snapped Brendon back to the present, “I’ll never touch him again. I’ll say no when he asks if that is your wish. Please, have mercy.”
    Brendon started to glare in Brent’s direction, but then quailed at the look on his face. It was the same look he had when scooping out the eyes of that rabbit eight years ago. Brent was enjoying this.
    “Oh, I believe you,” the words dripped from Brent’s lips. “My father, however, might want to make sure. Right father? It’s better to be certain than to leave ANYTHING to chance. You always taught me that. A real king does what has to be done, regardless of how he personally feels.”
    The snapping sound made Brendon sick to his stomach. It was quick, more of a popping really, but Brendon felt something odd that he hadn’t felt in a long while when thinking of the servants.
    He felt pity. He felt deep, searing guilt as he watched the boy take his damaged wrist into his hand. It was broken right below the hand, severed clean and was held to the boy’s body only by skin. The limb would never work right again.
    The boy stared at his life altering injury, as though trying to actually take in that it had just happened to HIM. He wasn’t screaming in pain yet, and Brendon figured this was because his body hadn’t had the needed time to react.
    “You’re fired,” the king stated in a very matter of fact manner. “Zack,” the king turned to Brendon’s personal manservant, a brute of a man in his mid 30’s, “Take this former employee to the dungeons. He will be charged with treason.”
    “No,” the boy looked at Brendon, pleading with watery blue eyes, “Brendon, please, don’t let them do this to me.”
    Brendon’s heart might have broke had it not already been hardened to such scenes. His father had always been prone to histrionics. But, whatever he felt, Brendon didn’t let it show. If he did, he knew it would only be worse for the boy. Instead he turned away and tried to find something interesting in the rippled window panes of his bedroom. He heard the sick thud of the king’s foot shove itself against the former servant’s ribcage.
    “Don’t you dare address my son so informally,” the king snapped, and then the boy was dragged from the room.
    Brendon watched in silence, noting that the boy’s eyes were locked firmly against his, and noting the snapped hand as it dangled and flopped like a fish.
    Even Zack seemed to cringe at the mutilated body part, but then again, it was always hard to tell with Zack. He was a very stoic fellow and, as an employee of the crown, he always tried to keep his emotions more or less on the inside.
    “Don’t you have business to tend to?” the King glowered in Brent’s direction. “You begged to be granted hiring responsibilities and those responsibilities have been granted to you. Go hire a guard or something, but I do not wish to see your face for a while.”
    “Yes, father.” One of Brent’s best friends, Bruiser, was a member of the royal guard, and Brent had begged to be allowed to oversee the hiring process as a favor to his friend. On his 16th birthday he had managed to convince his father to allow him to occasionally accompany the men on their local scouting and vetting ventures.
    Brent cut a cold smile and left to follow alongside Zack. The only people left in the room were Brendon and his father.
    It was silent for awhile until Brendon finally cut into the silence with his voice, still not turning away from the window.
    “When I was little,” he kept his voice as steady as possible, “I was afraid of monsters, and you tried to comfort me, telling me that they weren’t real.”
    “I –” His father stopped himself because he didn’t really know what to say.
    “But you lied to me. There are monsters; they just don’t live under beds.” Brendon turned to burrow his eyes into his father. He wanted the man to realize exactly what he had done. The king’s face never changed, and Brendon sighed. Maybe it was useless.
    He had used the word ‘monster’ as a defense tactic against his father since he was a small child, because it had always seemed to be the one word that broke through the man’s dense exterior… maybe it was losing its effectiveness. It would all depend on what his father said next.
    “Brendon,” his father’s voice was calm but sad, “Maybe I’ve been too hard on you.” The king walked over to Brendon’s bed and sat next to him, looking out the window as well, trying to find the spot that Brendon found so interesting.
    “I don’t think I’m the one you were being hard on.” Brendon swallowed something that wasn’t actually there and lowered his head toward his lap.
    “You’re still young. Maybe – maybe you should be allowed to get some of this out of your system. I’m – I don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I love you.” The king placed his arm around Brendon’s shoulder. The boy neither fought it off nor accepted it, and something inside his father cringed. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was the use of the word ‘monster’, but he felt like he had something to prove to his son, and he would do so.

  237.  
      rustnuts

    “Let’s make a deal,” the king whispered into the boy’s ear. “I’m going to give you and Brent an early birthday present. How does that sound?”
    “Material things aren’t going to give anyone back the use of their hand.” Brendon spoke sharply and clearly, making sure that the words prodded at his father.
    “Well, how about this. I’ll compromise, because I’m NOT a monster; I am a rational human being. I’ll give you one year to get this out of your system. In fact, I will find you a person for the specific purpose of getting this out of your system. How does that sound?”
    Brendon remained silent, though he honestly wanted to scream out how ridiculous and cynical he thought the idea was. Still, he bit his tongue, outbursts wouldn’t make things any better.
    “A, um, plaything so to speak.” His father continued, “After one year, I’ll get rid of that person. But – But do try to stick to this one person, and no one else. Certainly not the other servants because goodness knows I can’t get rid of the whole staff.”
    Brendon rolled his eyes but still remained silent.
    “In exchange, you and your brother keep this silly obsession of yours a secret. I don’t want anyone outside the castle to know what is going on. Period. If the Warwicks, or especially the French found out about this, it — it would be considered a great weakness.”
    “I hate always hearing about the French in every single conversation.”
    “Well, if our negotiations turn out, your marriage will probably serve to solidify our alliance with them… whether you hate it or not.”
    “And that is pretty much the reason I hate hearing about the French.”
    “Why do you have to be so harsh when I am in the process of offering you a present!”
    “People aren’t things. You don’t give them for presents.” Brendon’s voice was cold, but not as cold as he personally thought it should be.
    “Well, that is your option,” His father withdrew his arm from around the boy’s neck. “Take that option or start having sex with women.”
    “I’d rather be celibate.”
    “Then be celibate, but that is your only other choice. If I catch you again, I will have to take something you hold dear to get my point across… and I don’t want to drag Zack’s life into this.” The king started to stand, but Brendon shot out a hand to hold onto the hem of the man’s sleeve.
    “Wait,” Brendon hated himself for saying this, but he really did not want to be celibate for the next year, and Zack was about the only friend he had in the palace. “I want approval on what he looks like. Okay?”
    “We’ll see,” the king frowned. “Hopefully someone who could ease your way into girls? perhaps?”
    Brendon didn’t respond, possibly not even aware that the last sentence was supposed to be a question.
    The king bent down and kissed his son on the top of his head before turning and leaving Brendon to continue staring out of the window. It was starting to drizzle. ‘What a kingdom’ Brendon thought to himself, ‘doesn’t look all that valuable a holding tonight.’
    Brendon watched as people scurried along the streets trying to find shelter from the coming storm. He couldn’t quite see the beautiful boy with the mouse brown hair struggling to keep up behind them as he frantically pattered away from a house that was smaller in its entire size than one chamber of Brendon’s bedroom. He couldn’t quite see him in the distance, but he would soon.

  238.  
      rustnuts

    It all started with a stupid email from Spencer. The subject line of the email said, “You have to check this out!” It sounded enough like Spencer. When he opened it, the only thing it contained was a link and a smiley face. Nothing telling what it was or why Ryan needed to see it. It was probably some ridiculous site or video. Spencer liked to frequent weird but strangely hilarious sites, so Ryan clicked the link.
    A new window popped up and loaded quickly. It was a porn site.
    “Okaaay,” Ryan said aloud. Spencer never sent him porn, and Ryan wasn’t even sure Spencer looked at porn. It was sort of confusing, even suspicious.
    He took a quick look at the page (because, hey, he was already there) and it looked like a big collection of amateur porn clips. He was going to have to call Spencer later to tell him how grossed out he was that his best friend was sending him porn, and how if he was going to be a pervert, he could at least find better sites. Bored of the site already, Ryan moved the mouse to exit the window, but when he clicked little X at the top corner, a new little window popped up. And another. And then another, until his entire screen was covered in tiny little pop-up windows. Little advertisements flashed on the screen ranging from rip-off Rolexes to ads for more porn sites. Ryan started getting a little panicky and began closing pages as quickly as possible, but they kept coming up too fast for him to keep up with. Some came with sounds from car horns beeping (You’ve just been entered to win a V8!) to moaning from more goddamn cheap porn. Then all of a sudden, his computer screen froze. Ryan was still trying to fight each little pop-up and it took him a second to realize that his mouse wasn’t moving.
    After a few moments of staring at his screen and wiggling the mouse insistently, Ryan actually screamed.

  239.  
      rustnuts

    “Dude! What the fuck have you done to my computer?!” Ryan yelled into the phone when Spencer picked up.
    “What the hell are you talking about, Ryan? This is Ryan, isn’t it?” Spencer said, very confused on the other end of the line.
    “That fucking site you sent me crashed my damn computer!” screeched Ryan.
    “Oh, man, didn’t I call you and tell you? My email got hacked and it sent weird sites to my whole list of contacts. I thought I called you and left a message.”
    Ryan rolled his eyes and pulled his cell phone away from his ear. Sure enough, there at the top of the screen was a little icon shaped like an envelope, alerting Ryan that he had a new voicemail in his box. Ryan’s jaw dropped.
    “No fucking way,” he said, more to himself than Spencer.
    Spencer still answered. “Sorry, man. Maybe you should call Geek Squad or something.”
    “Yeah,” Ryan said, a little shaken and still in half-disbelief. His computer had just crashed, but it was so heavy on him that it felt like his dog had just died. He didn’t know how to process it yet. “Maybe I will call them.”
    * * *
    Ryan really had no idea how computers worked aside from how to get around on one. It didn’t even occur to him that the Geek Squad might not have even been the right people to call until after he had called in and scheduled an appointment with an Agent.
    The woman on the phone had been nice, listening to Ryan explain the trouble and then trying to suggest solutions. However, Ryan just started getting frustrated because it wasn’t like he really knew the technical lingo and nothing was making sense to him. He didn’t know how to explain the problem with his computer. All he knew is that he went to a site, his computer froze, and it wouldn’t load when he tried to boot it back up.

  240.  
      rustnuts

    Patient as ever, the woman suggested that Ryan either come into one of the Best Buy locations and get technical help from the Geek Squad there or hire an Agent, as they called them, to come and take a look at the computer and figure out how to fix the problem that way. So relieved, Ryan immediately agreed to hire the Agent and gave his address. The woman told him that his Agent would come to his house in three days at noon to help him with his computer difficulties. She politely bid him good day and ended the call.
    Three days passed and Ryan was sitting in his bedroom in front of his computer, wondering if there was any hope of saving the thing or if he should just borrow Spencer’s computer and start looking at the new laptops online. He was absent-mindedly tidying his room up (because he didn’t want to look like a complete slob) when the doorbell rang and got Ryan’s attention.
    He went to the door and looked quickly through the peephole. On the other side, there stood a man with a short-sleeved, white shirt tucked into black slacks and a black tie. Out on the side of the road, Ryan could see the signature Geek Squad car parked.
    “Are they serious?” Ryan thought as he stepped back to open the door.
    Oh yes, they were serious. There was the Agent with red-rimmed glasses on his nose and a briefcase in hand. The sad part was that the guy wasn’t some fat, balding, middle-aged man or a stick-skinny, ugly thing with nothing going for him but his computer knowledge. He looked so young and fresh. Ryan wondered why he got a job working for the Geek Squad. Sure, he was sort of thin and pale with glasses, but that didn’t automatically make someone a loser. However, the job with the Geek Squad was edging him in that direction, as was his awful haircut.
    “Hello,” the man said in a sort of practiced tone. “My name’s Brendon Urie and I’m your Geek Squad Agent.”
    “Hey, I’m Ryan. Come on in and take a look at this thing,” said Ryan, waving vaguely behind him. He moved to the side and let Brendon in before closing the door behind him. Brendon took a quick look at the room but didn’t seem to care enough to dwell very long, so he waited for Ryan to lead him to the computer.
    “This way,” said Ryan, motioning for Brendon to follow him. “It’s in the bedroom.”
    Brendon skittered behind him to his bedroom and sat down at Ryan’s computer chair before Ryan even had a chance to try and describe the issue at hand.
    “It won’t start up. A few days ago, it froze while I was surfing the internet,” Ryan said, plainly lying. As much as Ryan was sure there were more embarrassing ways to crash a computer, a dignified part of him wouldn’t just admit that I was at a pornography site and the pop-ups ate my computer. Brendon didn’t need to know. Brendon probably didn’t even care to know how it happened, anyway. His job was to fix it now that it had happened. The how was really only relevant to Ryan, who swore to himself that he would never click on a link in an email ever again no matter how safe it looked.
    Brendon hadn’t said anything since his short little introduction but was already getting to work at pressing buttons and poking around the computer tower. It was sort of awkward and maybe a little rude, in Ryan’s opinion, that Brendon didn’t at least tell him theories on what could fix this. Normal computer repair guys sat there and tried to educate Ryan, telling him all he never cared to know about his RAM or how many giga-whatevers a decent computer should have.
    Actually, reconsidering it, Ryan realized that maybe Brendon was the more polite of the two types. Still, his silence was a little unnerving.
    “So, do you think you can fix it or is this one of those Blue Screen of Death things where I should just abandon hope now?” Ryan asked, hoping to at least get Brendon to laugh a little. Brendon did crack a smile, but he bent his head like he was hiding it and just kept working. It was sort of endearing. Maybe, Ryan reasoned, the guy was just shy. He wasn’t being rude; he just didn’t know what to say.
    “You seem pretty young to be on the Geek Squad,” Ryan said, trying to sound conversational. He was hoping this wouldn’t be a big, awkward affair but Brendon was not helping turn things around.
    “I’m twenty,” Brendon finally said.
    “Success!” Ryan silently rejoiced. Then he joked, “I thought all the Geek Squad had were thirty year old men without girlfriends.”
    Brendon visibly bristled at that and Ryan felt a stab of regret and embarrassment. Brendon just said, “Not everyone thinks a girlfriend is top priority.”
    “Oh, well, yeah, there are more… important things than just, uh… than just girls,” stumbled Ryan. Awesome. He had already established himself as an asshole. “I’m just gonna…” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and backed out of the room slowly. Brendon didn’t look up as he left, a little flustered with his face tinged pink.

  241.  
      rustnuts

    Once safely out of the room and away from Brendon, Ryan sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was such an idiot. He wondered, though, why he was so set on making a good impression. It wasn’t like Ryan was ever going to see this guy once his computer was back up and running. And he had tried to be friendly but Brendon had hardly responded. If Brendon wanted to work in peace, then fine. Ryan wasn’t going to sit around and try to coax conversation out of him. He had better things to do.
    However, most of these things would have taken place in his bedroom where all his shit was. So maybe he would have to find something less-important-but-still-better to do, which turned out to be flipping the TV on and seeing what he could watch. He settled on The Last Samurai, content to watch Tom Cruise in all his weirdness strutting around the screen.
    He got all the way through the movie and Brendon still hadn’t come out to even tell Ryan how things were going. Ryan started getting a little worried. Was something wrong? Was Ryan’s computer that fucked? Had Brendon stolen the computer and escaped out the window?
    Curious, Ryan got up and tiptoed to the bedroom, the door still open wide. He leaned in the doorway with both hands on the frame to see Brendon bent over the tower with his ass sticking out, poking around some more like he was trying to take the whole damn thing apart.
    “Any progress?” Ryan said from the doorway, causing Brendon to jump and look up. He had a scared, confused sort of look on his face that just didn’t make sense to Ryan (unless he really was planning on snatching his computer when Ryan wasn’t looking).
    Brendon made something close to a smile and said, “Just going through the different methods.”
    Ryan nodded and ahhed like he knew what those were. Brendon went back to stretching over the computer and looking like he was trying to stick his head in the tower. Ryan just tried not to laugh and thought to himself that this guy didn’t look like he had a clue as to what he was doing. And the two hours or so Brendon had already spent checking this thing out seemed to say that, at the very least, Brendon wasn’t their star employee. He couldn’t fix your computer in some weird, timed competition. Ryan wondered if really big computer nerds had those or if that was only for solving Rubik’s cubes.
    Ryan left Brendon alone again.
    He went to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich, eating slowly before slumping back down on the couch and watching two episodes of So You Think You Can Dance re-runs. Finally, Ryan got back up and stalked to his room to see Brendon staring at a screen of numbers and text, which probably meant something in Geek-speak but only looked like The Matrix to Ryan.
    “Anything yet?” Ryan said impatiently. The guy had been at his house for hours. He hoped Brendon wasn’t charging an hourly rate. Ryan was going to be really pissed if the guy was just wasting his time to get paid more.
    “I got it booted up and running. I think you had a pretty nasty virus,” Brendon said, eyes still glued to the screen. “You should probably install a virus-protection program after this to keep it from happening again in the future.”
    “Yeah, thanks,” Ryan said, sounding a little like a smart-ass. Brendon’s fingers on the keys faltered for just a second, like that little remark got to him, but then continued on like it didn’t happen.
    Ryan crossed his arms, not feeling sorry yet for being a jerk (because, seriously, the guy had been here for way too long), and said, “How much longer do you think this will take?”
    “Not much longer. The hardest part was finding the virus and purging it. Now I’m just doing some last minute cleaning up to make sure there aren’t any more little viruses eating away at your computer. Maybe ten more minutes and then I’ll be out of your hair.” The way Brendon said it made him sound like a dog with its tail between its legs, like he knew he was being a nuisance and he wanted to leave so Ryan wouldn’t pick at him anymore.
    “Ten minutes. Ok. I’ll wait,” Ryan thought, sitting himself down on the edge of his bed. He watched Brendon go through codes and files, his fingers flying across the keyboard without even a glance downward. Brendon may not have been their champion Agent, but he still knew a thing or two about how to handle computers.
    The light from the screen reflected softly off of Brendon’s glasses, giving him a sort of glazed look as he went through and scanned the computer for more possible viruses. The screen looked like a wall of jumbled letters and numbers, falling from the top of the screen to the bottom in blocks of paragraphs. Suddenly, the screen stopped moving and Brendon kept typing.
    “Well, I think I figured out what caused the virus,” he said, and Ryan’s breath seized in his throat.

  242.  
      rustnuts

    “Shit shit shit,” thought Ryan, fear seizing him.
    Brendon squinted at the computer where a URL was written out. “…Big-Ass Titties?” He looked back at Ryan with the smuggest smirk Ryan had ever seen. Ryan could only imagine the look of horror on his own face.
    “My friend’s email got hacked. I got a link in an email and I ended up there. I didn’t even know what it was,” Ryan explained, his eyes a little wider than normal. “It was an accident.”
    Brendon didn’t say a word, but the look on his face said it all. He felt like he had caught Ryan in something. There was a gleam behind his glasses that made him look like he was grinning on the inside like Ryan was the loser here. Never mind that Brendon was wearing that dorky short-sleeved button down shirt and driving a car proclaiming his loserdom. No, Ryan was the dork looking at porn sites and getting viruses like some creep who loaded himself up with spyware from lurking around shady sites. If Ryan had been the bullying type, he would have made a stab at Brendon about how he probably only had porn to keep him company most nights and he shouldn’t be making fun. Later, Ryan wondered if saying it would have even scathed Brendon at all.
    It was like, all of a sudden, Brendon had this newfound sense of confidence that he had something over Ryan’s head that made Ryan look more like an idiot than Brendon in his tie. Brendon seemed to have resigned himself to being a geek until this. It was like this made them equals in Brendon’s head.
    He relaxed a little in his chair as if he was much less concerned about seeming professional now, and he looked back at Ryan with those smiling eyes. They mocked him and searched him at the same time, making Ryan feel embarrassed and almost violated. There was something else behind those bright red frames that made Ryan’s skin crawl. This look that Brendon was giving him mixed in so well with the superior stare that Ryan almost didn’t notice it. It was almost… teasingly seductive, like he was silently saying, “You dirty boy, what were you doing there?” When Brendon gave him a half-smile and arched an eyebrow, both of Ryan’s eyebrows shot up in defense.
    Where did this guy get this? From where was he drawing this sudden burst of confidence? When he had walked in, he had barely said a word and only looked Ryan in the face long enough to say his own name. How on earth did this pale little Geek Squad Agent turn into this? It didn’t make sense and it was fascinating. Clearly, Brendon was not just some shy, nerdy little tech support guy. The guy had a different personality, had a hidden story behind his square glasses and stupid uniform. And Ryan, being the analytical type of guy that he was, was curious to figure him out.
    Ryan’s mind suddenly got a flash of Brendon bent over the computer tower before, ass high and obvious.
    Oh, Ryan was so hooked.
    “Alright, well,” Brendon said, stretching his arms over his head and fixing his tie, “I’ve got your computer back up and working. Like I said before, you’ll probably want to install some more firewalls and virus scanners to make sure this isn’t a normal thing that happens to your computer. Our website has a few places you can go to and download them for free. It really saves you a lot of headaches, especially if you’re a regular at sites like Big-Ass Titties.” He looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh. Ryan winced.

  243.  
      rustnuts

    Then Brendon said, “The bill will come in the mail. If you need anything or have any questions, our helpline number is posted on our website. Free feel to call if you have any more problems or concerns. My work, however, is done.”
    “Uh, thanks,” Ryan managed to say as Brendon packed up his briefcase.
    “No problem. Glad to be of service, Ryan,” Brendon said, subtly accenting Ryan’s name. It was like he was silently saying, “I’ll remember you.”
    Ryan saw Brendon to the door and peeked out of the front window to watch Brendon walk back to the car with a different step than he arrived with and then drive away.
    * * *
    Ryan went to the Geek Squad website just hours after Brendon left and installed those virus-protection programs. While there, Ryan strayed to the Agent section of the site, seeing what they were supposed to be capable of doing for him.
    He had to think of a reason for Brendon to come back. He was already going crazy with curiosity about him and the idea of just forgetting about him seemed absurd. Then the perfect solution came to him.
    – Contain virus outbreaks
    – Remove prying spyware
    – Install virus-and spyware-protection software
    – Show you how to use your digital camera.
    It couldn’t have been more perfect. Spencer had just gotten a new digital camera the other week and it was the coolest shit Ryan had seen since the Wii. No doubt it was complicated, with lots of confusing buttons and weird settings. All he would have to do is borrow it and call for Brendon to come and help him figure it out. And since Spencer was indirectly responsible for his computer crashing in the first place, it would be the least he could do to try and make it up to Ryan.
    Brilliance only came easily to a true genius, and Ryan fancied himself a real genius at that moment.
    He did not, however, fancy himself one when he was sitting on the phone with another representative and was going to ask for Brendon specifically but, for the life of him, could not remember Brendon’s last name. Brendon had said it maybe once, but Ryan hadn’t really been paying attention. He told representative—a man, this time—that the last Agent whom he’d last hired was very helpful and friendly, but he only remembered that his first name was Brendon and he wore red glasses.
    “I’m sorry, sir, but the representatives don’t work with the Agents. They’re in a completely different sect of the company, so I can’t help you with who you might have hired before. Rest assured, though, that all of our Agents are very capable, friendly workers who can help you learn about your new digital camera.”
    Ryan wanted to growl and say, “I don’t want another Agent, I want Brendon.” The man was starting to get on Ryan’s nerves with his detached, business-like attitude. Ryan was sure that the woman he talked to before would have at least been sympathetic and jotted down a note to send along for the right person to read.
    Despite his frustration, Ryan thanked the man and gave his address again, hoping against hope that things would work out and Brendon would be the one to show up at his house.

  244.  
      rustnuts

    The man on the phone had told Ryan that the Agent would come to his house the next day at about four in the afternoon. So Ryan waited anxiously at the front window, watching for the car to pull up in front of his house. His hands were a little shaky and his heart was thudding in his chest with practically no rhythm. When the car finally did drive up to his house, Ryan felt like everything around him stopped. Everything was deathly still as he waited to see who emerged from the little black and white car.
    It was hard to tell, at first, because of the distance, but the dark mop of hair on top of the faceless Agent’s head was a good sign. As the figure came closer, Ryan saw the quickest flash of red across the Agent’s face.
    “There is a God!” Ryan hollered out loud with his arms thrown up in the air. His burst of joy was stifled as Brendon came closer to the door. Ryan busied himself with his nervous habit of smoothing down his hair and pulling on the hem of his t-shirt that did not want to touch the top of his pants. Then he waited for Brendon to knock.
    The rhythmic tap tap tap of Brendon’s knuckles echoed through the house and Ryan waited a few seconds to walk to the front door and open it casually.
    “Well, hey,” Ryan said with a bright smile. Brendon gave him back an indiscernible look, and it got Ryan’s mind abuzz with questions already.
    “Whoareyou? Howareyou? Whatareyouthinking? Whatdoyouthinkofme? What’syourlifelike? Letmeunderstandyou.”
    Brendon said, “They tell me you need the lowdown on your new camera.” The tiny smirk growing from the corners of his mouth was playful.
    Ryan chuckled a little, hoping Brendon was meaning to be funny, and waved for Brendon to come inside. They entered the living room where Spencer’s new and expensive camera was waiting on the coffee table. Ryan picked it up and handed it to Brendon with an unsure, expectant look. Brendon took a quick look at it and turned it on while Ryan watched with crossed arms.
    “Now, do you need to know something specific or do you just want the general run-through?” Brendon said in a small voice, like he was falling back into that nerdy façade, just getting his work done and getting out.
    “Oh, um, I just need to know all the normal stuff. I don’t know how to do anything but turn it on and take a picture,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed that it was actually true.
    “The most helpful thing you can always do is read the manual. That’s normally the fastest way to answer a question or fix a problem,” Brendon said as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
    “Yeah, I, uh… lost my manual?” was all Ryan could think to say. He had forgotten to ask Spencer for it and he felt a little stupid now. It probably made him look even stupider to Brendon.
    Brendon gave a slightly indulgent smile and turned the camera on as he sat down on the couch. He said, “We’ll start with how to use the playback setting.”
    Ryan hesitantly sat down next to him, unsure of what a safe but friendly distance would be. The camera whizzed and whirred a little before making a happyping and flashing a picture of Spencer and Haley across the screen.

  245.  
      rustnuts

    “My best friend and his girlfriend,” Ryan explained. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling so awkward and anxious. If anything, that should have been Brendon. Granted, Brendon was still a little awkward anyway but Ryan thought it unfair that he felt it too.
    “They’re a cute couple,” Brendon said with a small, sweet smile. It was the first real conversational thing Brendon had ever said to Ryan and it made Ryan want to grin. Progress! Ryan nodded and looked back at Haley and Spencer, sitting in Spencer’s car and taking pictures in the front seats.
    “They’re really great for each other,” Ryan said with an approving nod.
    “Any pictures on here you might not want someone else to see? Like, you and your girlfriend, for example?” Brendon said. He flashed another smile much like the one from the other day. A teasing, playful one with the tiniest show of teeth.
    “Oh, no, no!” Ryan said. He quickly assured Brendon that he didn’t have a girlfriend anyway, and he wouldn’t be taking pictures like that if he did.
    He could have sworn he heard Brendon mutter something that sounded like, “Hm. Interesting.”
    Brendon continued on and showed Ryan all the functions and features of the camera, nearly boring Ryan to death because it wasn’t as if he was actually planning on using the damn thing. All the while, Ryan kept trying to initiate some sort of conversation but Brendon stayed on task and only answered in the most polite, brief way.
    “Stupid idiot with your stupid good work ethic,” Ryan thought bitterly as Brendon was droning on about different flash settings. At the very least, Brendon was really knowledgeable about the camera, even to the point of half-confusing Ryan. He tried not to listen too closely lest his brain be scrambled.
    It was almost an hour before Brendon was finished showing Ryan everything on the camera because he had to demonstrate half of the functions, so now Ryan had about thirty arbitrary pictures of his living room. There was, however, a little gem waiting on the camera for later—a picture Brendon took of himself to show how to focus on an object up close or far away. Ryan was glad that Brendon was flying too quickly through his instructions to delete any pictures.
    “Well, that should cover just about everything,” Brendon said conclusively. “Do you have any questions?”
    “About a hundred, and none to do with the damn camera,” thought Ryan. It came out as, “Nope, thanks for the help.”
    Brendon gave a cordial smile and rose to leave. A panic alarm went off in Ryan’s head saying, “Don’t let him leave yet!” And as much as he tried to fight with it and argue that “there’s no valid reason for him to stay,” it still insisted that Ryan stop Brendon before he walked out that door.
    After saying his courteous goodbye, Brendon headed for the front door. Feeling a bit conflicted for a moment, Ryan stretched out a hand for Brendon when he wasn’t looking and then let it shrink back to his chest. He jumped up from the couch and followed Brendon to the door. Once there, he fumbled for words until all that came out was, “What’s your name again?”
    Brendon gave him one of those fake, dry smiles that a person uses when they’re a bit offended, and he said, “Brendon Urie.”

  246.  
      rustnuts

    “Brendon Urie,” Ryan repeated in his head like he was mentally writing it down, tucking it away for future use. “Sorry, I just completely forgot it before and when I needed help with the camera, I couldn’t remember your name to ask for you but you came anyway so I guess that worked out and stuff… and… yeah.”
    He felt his confidence drying up like a puddle in the desert. Rambling and hints at creepy work-stalking were just not going to help Ryan. But Brendon scratched the back of his head and grinned like a bashful little eight year old.
    “I asked for the assignment,” he said quietly, like a confession. He glanced up at Ryan with his eyebrows drawn together a little, and Ryan felt his mouth splitting into a grin. Brendon had requested to work for him again.
    Somehow, when Brendon was being nervous and jittery, Ryan felt himself calm down, like he didn’t need to impress Brendon or anything because now Brendon was the one trying to hold himself together.
    “Well, I’m very glad for your help,” said Ryan, folding his arms casually.
    Brendon looked Ryan right in the eyes for the longest he ever had and said with a quick nod, “Take care, Ryan.”
    With that, he walked out the door and down the sidewalk where his Geek-mobile was parked. Ryan waved from his doorway and didn’t suppress the wide smile when Brendon waved back.
    * * *
    “You know what the most retarded part of this story is?” Spencer said, munching noisily on his chips. Ryan just grunted around his sub in response. Spencer gave a mocking smirk and said, “That you’re trying so hard to impress such a loser.”
    Ryan was mildly affronted and his huff indicated so. “I’m not trying to impress him, and he’s… he’s not a loser, ok?”
    “He works for the Geek Squad, Ryan,” Spencer said dryly.
    “Which probably means he’s smart.” Ryan was getting defensive. “Who says you can’t be smart and interesting and cool?”
    “This coming from the guy who used to pick up the hottest blonde girl in the room when William would take us to college parties.”
    “Maybe I’ve realized that I need to grow out of that,” Ryan mumbled, like he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit it yet.
    “And as mature and great as that is—I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you want to grow out of it—that doesn’t explain the jump. How do you go from Jac Vanek and Keltie Colleen to the guy who fixed your computer? How do these connect?” Spencer said, waving his sub around emphatically.

  247.  
      rustnuts

    Ryan sighed in exasperation and pulled Spencer’s camera out of his messenger bag. He turned it to playback and handed the camera to Spencer without a word. Spencer took it cautiously and looked at the screen. There was a picture of a guy with slightly mussed hair and vibrant eyes behind oddly stylish glasses. His smile was so warm and pleasant that Spencer almost caught himself smiling back.
    “He’s… cute,” Spencer said. His tone was a mix of astonishment and discomfort. “If I was into dudes, I would probably be interested too.”
    “Don’t think of it like that, dude. There’s more to him. Yeah, he’s sort of good-looking, but he has this weird air about him that I can’t describe.”
    “A sexy air?” Spencer waggled his eyebrows and bit his lip.
    Ryan gave a practically explosive laugh. “Hardly. He seems so introverted and awkward, at least from what I’ve seen so far. But he has these moments where it’s almost like his mask slips. I don’t doubt he actually is kind of a dork at the core, but I feel like he’s hiding another very different side of himself.”
    “I would be surprised if you knew every side of him after seeing each other twice, though, dude,” said Spencer as he licked mustard off his fingers. “Of course there are sides to him you don’t know about.”
    Ryan shook his head and his hair fell into his eyes. “I know that but it’s just… like I said, I can’t even describe it. But I have this feeling that he’s this really awesome guy underneath his geek façade.”
    Spencer was quiet for a few seconds and then started snickering behind his lips. “Underneath it, huh?”
    Ryan cuffed him on the arm and said, “Oh, shut up, dickwad!” He still laughed in spite of himself.
    * * *
    Ryan got the bills in the mail a few days later. When he opened them up and read the totals, he nearly stopped breathing. Because, oh yeah, he waspaying Brendon to come to his house. That part had sort of slipped his mind.
    He sat on his couch with the bills in hand and stared at them for a good five minutes before coming to the conclusion that hiring Brendon to make house calls was not going to be affordable much longer.
    There had to be another way. He and Brendon were just starting to get somewhere and he couldn’t just forget about him now. The first thing he thought of was going down to Best Buy to see if Brendon worked there, too. It was probably a long shot, especially since the whole Geek company seemed to be pretty sectioned off from what he could tell, but Ryan didn’t have much of a choice if he wanted to see Brendon again and still have money afterwards.
    It was worth a shot.
    * * *
    The doors whizzed open for him as he stepped up to the entrance of the giant building with the words Best Buy lit up out front in black and yellow.
    “Oh god, I am such a loser for doing this,” Ryan mumbled to himself with a bit of a wince.
    There were employees buzzing around, scuttling back and forth between departments and computers in skirts or ties. To Ryan’s surprise, it was a woman with blonde curls who came up and approached him. She wore a modest skirt that reached her knees and a nametag with the name Greta printed on it.
    “Hello,” she said rather pleasantly. “Can I help you, sir?”

  248.  
      rustnuts

    “Um, not right now, I just… want to, uh,” he floundered. “I was just wondering if Brendon Urie was working.”
    “No, I don’t think we have a Brendon working today. In fact, I’m not sure I even know if a Brendon Urie works here at all. I’m sorry.”
    Ryan told her it was ok, and she tried to continue. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
    At that moment, Ryan saw someone coming closer from his peripheral vision. When he glanced over, he saw a man just an inch or two shorter than himself with a thin, scratchy beard forming on his face. He didn’t look like he worked there and Ryan didn’t recognize him, but he looked straight at Ryan and said, “Brendon Urie? You’re looking for Brendon?”
    Ryan nodded, wondering why this complete stranger was talking to him. He hoped this was actually going somewhere, because quite honestly, the guy vaguely looked like he had walked in from sleeping in the street.
    The man smiled. “I know him. I see him every few days when he comes to pick up a Geek car.”
    Greta was still standing next to Ryan. She said to the scruffy man, “Who’s Brendon?”
    The guy looked at her and gave her a smile as he said, “I know you’ve seen him. He’s the guy you keep calling ‘that little Mormon sweetheart.’”
    Ryan laughed inwardly. Mormon.
    The woman’s eyes lit up and she pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Oh! God, I feel like a jerk now. I see him passing through all the time and I say hello to him but I never knew his name!”
    “You fail as a human being, Greta,” the man said, dead-faced.
    Greta laughed in an adorably pleasant way that made tension bleed out of Ryan’s shoulders. She was about to respond, but another customer walked in the automatic doors, claiming Greta’s attention. She was quick to receive them, leaving Ryan with this random guy—his only real connection to Brendon.
    Ryan scratched the back of his neck and said, “So, is he working?”
    The man shook his head. “No. Even if he was, he’s mostly does Agent assignments outside of the center, so he isn’t here very long anyway.”
    Ryan sighed. Mission failed.
    To Ryan’s surprise, the man stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Jon. I unload the trucks with all the new stock for the store.”
    Ryan smiled, a bit relieved that they finally had some sort of introduction. “I’m Ryan.”
    “Sorry for just butting in there, but Brendon is one of my buddies.”
    “Really?” Ryan said, trying not to sound excited.

  249.  
      rustnuts

    “Yeah. Since the truck orders come in through the garage entrance, we see each other a lot when he’s in between jobs and I’m unloading deliveries,” Jon explained. “Why are you looking for Brendon?”
    “I, uh, well,” Ryan began, completely unsure of where he was going to go with this. His only objective was to find Brendon, and he hadn’t thought much past that. What’s worse, he hadn’t even actually reached that part and he was already fumbling. “He, I guess, helped me with my computer and stuff a couple of days ago, and uh, I still had some questions about it. Just so, you know, I can keep from fucking it up again.”
    Jon gave him an amused smirk, clearly enjoying Ryan’s squirming, and said, “He has another assignment day after tomorrow at 10 AM. He’ll be in here at about 9:15 to get a car, so you can try to catch him then, if you want.”
    Ryan kept his smile subdued and replied with, “Thanks. I just might.”
    He said goodbye to Jon, ignoring the odd calculating look that Jon kept giving him, and sauntered out of the center with a bit of a spring in his step.
    Day after tomorrow at 9:15—he would be there.
    * * *
    The day after tomorrow came, and Ryan woke up at the sound of his alarm dinging. He smacked the alarm clock next to his bed and rubbed his eyes. He took a moment to fight with himself about whether he really wanted to get up or not, and then something set in that he hadn’t realized.
    “Wait,” he thought, barely awake. The sound he had just heard was a little strange and didn’t feel like it fit, exactly.
    He looked over at his clock and read the time: 11:47 AM.
    Everything in the room seemed to freeze for a moment as it set in—his alarm hadn’t woken him up. He had overslept again. And this time, it wasn’t work he had missed, which, granted, was bad to miss, but work came almost every day. Brendon didn’t.
    He felt his lungs constricting, and it was like he was back in high school, oversleeping and then rushing to get to the campus before he missed the wholeday. He ripped the covers off and he lunged for his closet, hoping to find more than one or two articles of clean clothing. But he stopped amidst his frenzy when he realized it was pointless, there was no way Brendon would be there. He banged his head against the frame of his closet and swore at himself. He later hoped that a bruise wouldn’t show up in the middle of his forehead. No need to have one more thing to be angry at.
    “What the hell woke me up?” he wondered, frustrated and a little despondent.
    He didn’t wear a watch, so it hadn’t been that. He looked around the room quickly until his eyes landed on his sidekick sitting innocently on his computer desk. He stomped over and picked it up, flipping it open to find out that Spencer had texted him to see if Ryan wanted to come see the new Jet Li movie with him.
    His fucking sidekick had awoken him. He had the strong urge to hurl it at the wall, but he put it down before he did something stupid. Instead, he went over to his alarm clock and checked his alarm setting to make sure he had set it up right. Sure enough, the alarm was set for 8:30, and he had definitely turned it on before falling asleep.
    Then, Ryan realized the problem: he had set it for 8:30 PM instead of AM. He had that familiar itch to pick it up and throw it, too. Ryan never remembered sucking so bad with electronics before.
    He went back and sat on his bed with his arms crossed indignantly, grumbling and swearing a little more, some at himself and some at everything else in the world. Because the whole fucking world was against him in this, he knew it.
    He glared at his alarm clock first, cursing its complete ineffectiveness, and then he glared over at his sidekick. After a second or two of seething, he growled and got up to retrieve it. He made sure to be particularly vicious when punching the keys.
    what time n where?
    * * *
    “The deal has always been that I buy the tickets and you buy the snacks, Ry. Check way back in our movie-going history and you’ll remember,” said Spencer, sipping on his Coke as they walked into the movie theater.
    “I think we need to change things up then, since I always end up paying, like, twice the amount of the tickets just sustaining you with movie theater popcorn and candy,” Ryan groused.
    “Hey, just because you couldn’t manage to haul your lazy ass out of bed this morning doesn’t mean you can start being a dick. It’s a movie, dude. Let’s have fun.”
    Ryan sighed. “I know, sorry. I just feel like I missed a really good opportunity today that I may never get again. That is, unless I resort to stalking him or something.”

  250.  
      rustnuts

    “Yeah, because you’re totally not bordering on that anyway. But let’s say you actually had caught him this morning—what would you have done next?” asked Spencer, giving Ryan a pointed look as they ascended the stairs to find seats.
    “Well,” Ryan began, already stalling, “… I would have probably… said something like… god, I have no idea.”
    “You see? You don’t even have the slightest idea as to what you’re doing. At least have some sort of plan of action. Or hey, did you ever think of letting this guy come to you? That might be the smarter thing to do so you don’t end up expending so much energy only to find out that he won’t do the same. Maybe he’s not interested in you like that.”
    “What if I’m not interested like ‘that’?” Ryan said as they began shuffling towards the center of an empty row.
    Spencer sat down and put his Coke in the cup-holder before saying, “As much as I already think I know the answer to this question, then what do you even want with him, anyway?”
    Ryan furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, thinking hard. What did he want with Brendon? He hadn’t really thought about it much.
    “I… I don’t know yet, ok?” he answered a little sorely.
    “That’s what I thought,” was Spencer reply.
    “Maybe I want to find out what kind of person he is,” Ryan offered. “Maybe I think he’s interesting.”
    “Yeah, you told me that before, but interesting in what way? In a friend way or a… lover way?” Spencer said, using the word delicately.
    “I don’t know!” Ryan shot back. “Neither way. It’s just that… I can’t stop thinking about him, wanting to talk to him. He seems like he would have so much to say when he’s not trying to remember computer codes or get out of your hair as soon as possible.”
    “Did you ever think that maybe he doesn’t want to get to know you back?” Spencer said carefully. His eyebrows rose like Mrs. Smith’s used to do when she was being sympathetic.
    Ryan considered telling him what Brendon had said about requesting to take the job helping Ryan again, but he was pretty sure Spencer could easily poke a hole in it. Instead, he went in another direction.
    “He seems like the type to be too shy to say anything. Even if he was slightly interested in hanging out, I don’t know if I’d be able to tell, which is why I’m just going to keep trying and hope for the best,” Ryan explained, feeling strangely optimistic once he finished.
    “As long as you’re sure,” Spencer said, getting comfortable in his seat as the theater dimmed.
    Ryan wasn’t sure at all, but that didn’t change his mind.

  251.  
      rustnuts

    The first time Ryan tries alcohol, it’s out with his friends, the same ones he’s hung out with since high school. Spencer’s not there, and Brendon’s not there; Jon’s in Chicago, so he’s definitely not there. Later, Brendon will heavily imply that their absence made it practically like Ryan was drinking alone in a dark room listening to Everybody Hurts.
    It’s not a big deal or anything (it’s not), Ryan’s old enough to make his own decisions and know his own personality and what he can and can’t do. He’s not his father. He’s not his father and he’s never even been like his father, so why should he be like him in this?
    He knows it was a risk he didn’t want to take. That he didn’t trust himself not to – become that.
    Whatever.
    One of the kids at the party, a friend of a friend, makes him something sweet with rum. His best girl friend rubs sugar on the rim of the glass and keeps an eye on him all night, even though all he does is talk a little louder and lean on people a little more heavily. No one minds holding him up, though, and he repays their kindness by telling him how much he likes them and how nice he thinks they all are.
    He feels pretty stupid the next morning, but at least he didn’t get violent.

    When he mentions it in casual conversation, Brendon almost punches him in the nose.
    “You did WHAT?” Brendon demands, voice rising at the end like he can’t believe the nerve, honestly, and Ryan would laugh at Brendon’s drama queen antics but most drama queens don’t come with a killer right hook.
    “Had…a…drink,” Ryan says again, more slowly this time.
    “Why?” Brendon’s hands go to his hips, fully indignant, and it’s probably inappropriate that Ryan almost expects him to burst into a song about the evils of drinking, but there it is.
    Ryan shrugs.
    Brendon stares at him. “After everything,” he starts, waving his hand around as if to indicate everything ever, not just in Ryan’s life, but in existence, “you just…started? For no reason? Without telling us?”
    “It’s not a big deal,” Ryan mumbles, picking at the couch cushion. It’s not. It’s not.

  252.  
      rustnuts

    Brendon stares at him some more, and finally his shoulders slump. He shakes his head. “I can’t believe your first time drinking wasn’t with me. I would have made sure nothing happened to you.”
    “Nothing did happen to me,” Ryan says, annoyed now. “I had a few drinks. The end.”
    “Whatever.” Brendon huffs back into his seat. “I guess it doesn’t really matter now.”
    Ryan stares at him.

    The second time, anyway, he’s with Brendon.
    “As it should be,” Brendon says, still clearly aggrieved at the slight. Ryan looks at him, and once they’ve stared at each other long enough for Brendon to flush a bit, committing to the glare, Ryan crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out at him.
    “I just had things with rum,” Ryan says, quirking his mouth in a grin when Brendon can’t control a giggle. “What should I have now?”
    “Vodka,” Brendon says authoritatively. “Drinks with vodka in them.”
    Ryan lets Brendon order his drinks for the rest of the night, which in retrospect is not a great idea.

    “Rum didn’t make me feel like this,” Ryan says into Brendon’s neck, and Brendon strokes the back of his head. Maybe says is an exaggeration. Slurring might be closer. Ryan frowns against Brendon’s neck, flushed warm like his own skin. He isn’t quite slurring, he doesn’t think. So not slurring, but not really saying either. Slaying? “Slaying,” Ryan mumbles, stirring Brendon’s collar. “Like vampires.” Brendon’s neck is really nice. Ryan thinks he might be able to see his pulse beating. “You’re so warm,” Ryan sighs, and squeezes whatever it is of Brendon that he can reach. It’s Brendon’s thigh. Brendon has nice thighs too.
    “You’re cuddly,” Brendon says, and Ryan nuzzles his collarbone. “It’s cute.”
    “I’m cute,” Ryan murmurs. He lets his head loll against Brendon’s shoulder, looking up at him. “Chicks dig me.”
    “I can’t possibly tell you how cut off you are,” Brendon says, patting Ryan’s hand on his thigh. “But it’s a lot.”
    “Get me drunk and then abandon me,” Ryan says piteously. He sort of wants to sling his leg over Brendon’s, but that would probably count as sitting on Brendon’s lap. Even though Brendon has a pretty nice lap. It’s the thighs. Ryan nods, agreeing with himself.
    “I’m not going to abandon you, Ross.”
    Ryan looks up at him through his eyelashes. Brendon is so nice. “You’re nice,” he tells Brendon. Nice people deserve kisses. He gives Brendon a kiss on the cheek. His lips catch on Brendon’s stubble, and he drags them over Brendon’s cheek a little, liking the feeling. It makes his lips tingle. The vodka made his lips tingle, burning down his throat, going straight to his head. He liked the feeling, control bleeding out, being replaced by something purer, more free. There are six glasses on the table, and when he touches them, they clink together emptily. Why’d they go to this bar, anyway? Just the two of them, like a date. A drinking date. “A date,” Ryan says. He touches the glasses again, and one almost falls over. Brendon reaches out to catch it. “Is this a date?”
    Brendon quirks an eyebrow at him. “Sure. You gonna put out?”

  253.  
      rustnuts

    Ryan hits him, aiming vaguely for his arm and clipping his shoulder. “‘m not a slut.”
    “That’s not what I’ve heard.” He’s waggling his eyebrows now. Ryan takes back everything he said about Brendon being nice.
    “Shut up,” Ryan mutters. Brendon’s making stuff up anyway. Ryan’s not easy. He’s good at sex, and he likes it, but he doesn’t jump into bed with just anyone. Sometimes he…falls. And lands comfortably.
    “I’m just teasing.” Brendon grins at him. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?”
    The bar is mostly cleared out for the night when they get up, Ryan leaning heavily on Brendon, and Ryan salutes to the bartender as they walk out, followed by the strains of an old Patsy Cline tune. Brendon’s sense of humor extends to taking Ryan to country bars, apparently, although they at least didn’t look too closely at their fake IDs. Ryan would have given him more shit about it, but when they walked in there was a grandfatherly guy at the bar wearing Wranglers and the exact same scarf as Ryan, so mostly Ryan just wanted to duck into a booth and tuck into a vodka cranberry. Which Brendon provided in multiples.
    Brendon, that is, who didn’t actually bother to drink much himself, and how did Ryan not notice that? That’s cheating. Brendon’s not playing fair.
    “Someone has to drive us back, and I drove us here,” Brendon points out when Ryan says so. Which is true, Brendon had picked Ryan up. Like a date. Ryan gives him a suspicious look, which is probably not so intimidating when he’s propped up against the side of Brendon’s Audi as Brendon attempts to pour him into the passenger seat. Brendon threads a hand through his hair, easing him down and nudging his legs in before he shuts the door.
    Ryan passes out in the passenger seat.

    “Hey, hey. I’m not Zack, I can’t carry your ass in, dude,” Brendon says, shaking Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan cracks one eye open.
    “You could lift me,” Ryan says contrarily. He can’t convince his eyelids to rise more than halfway. Now that the liquor has had a chance to settle, he just feels more drunk. “You’re just lazy.”
    “You are a prima donna and I’m not carrying you anywhere,” Brendon informs him. “Wake up, we’re at your place.”
    Ryan rouses himself, and luckily it’s not too convincing because Brendon takes one look at him and hands his keys to the valet so he can walk Ryan up to his apartment. Ryan slings an arm around Brendon’s shoulders and tries to pretend it’s companionable and not necessary. Although it does feel nice. Brendon’s at a good height for Ryan to do that. He keeps his arm around Brendon in the elevator, watching them in the mirrored walls as they make their way up. Brendon looks nice, but frazzled. Ryan looks drunk.
    “I look drunk,” Ryan says sadly.
    “It looks okay on you.” Brendon shrugs, pushing off the wall when the elevator stops at Ryan’s floor. Ryan’s not quite fast enough to keep up, and Brendon ends up bumping back into him when Ryan doesn’t let go. It still feels pretty good, Brendon against him. Brendon’s warm. He lets Brendon take him back to his apartment, getting in and guiding Ryan back to his bedroom. The curtains are open, and the Strip shines brightly through the windows. Brendon tries to pull away again.
    “No,” Ryan says, frowning, but then can’t think of a reason to justify Brendon staying. His apartment just feels too big. “It’s late. You probably shouldn’t go.”
    Brendon laughs. “I think I’ll be okay.”
    “Be okay here,” Ryan says, and tugs him towards the bed, toeing his shoes off before pulling Brendon insistently down. Brendon quirks his lip in a grin, but he goes with it, kicking his shoes off too, though he doesn’t lie down. “On your back,” Ryan says impatiently, and Brendon laughs.

  254.  
      rustnuts

    “Wow, Ross, really?”
    Ryan huffs and gets a hand in the back of Brendon’s shirt, because really, Ryan doesn’t look like much but he can – well, he can stretch out Brendon’s shirt, at least, and apparently that’s all he needs to do in order for Brendon to scoot back onto the bed and lie down next to Ryan. It’s an established fact that Brendon is a cuddler, Ryan knows this from the multitude of occasions in which Brendon’s publicly compromised his virtue with hands in inappropriate places. Really, it’s churlish to make Ryan work for it now, now that he wants Brendon’s warmth up against him, now that it’s late and Ryan’s feeling fuzzy and affectionate. Brendon rolls onto his side, and Ryan wants to shift closer, curl his hand around the back of Brendon’s neck. So he does.
    “Hey,” Brendon whispers, and Ryan shakes his head, presses his face to Brendon’s neck, hiding in the space between Brendon’s neck and shoulder, his lips brushing against the warm fabric of Brendon’s t-shirt. He strokes his thumb over the short, soft hair at the base of Brendon’s skull, down to the round of bone at the top of his spine, and he feels Brendon swallow.
    “Hi,” Ryan says muzzily. He thinks, maybe, he could sleep right now. “Take your clothes off,” he says, and Brendon laughs, short and startled. “Not,” he says, when his brain catches up to his mouth, “not for fucking,” he continues, but he can’t seem to find the words to communicate that it’s just more comfortable to sleep in boxers, that’s all, and not the skin-tight jeans Brendon is wearing. Skin-tight, Ryan’s sure of that, because his hand seems to have wandered down there to check, fingers sliding over the seams, making for Brendon’s zipper. To help. Ryan likes being helpful.
    “Wow,” Brendon says. His voice shakes, a little. “You’re drunk.”
    “You got me drunk,” Ryan mumbles, face still pressed to Brendon’s neck, looking down past his collarbone to where he’s determinedly tugging at the button, willing it to come undone. He doesn’t think he’ll have the energy to work Brendon’s jeans off of him; really, Brendon could start handling this on his own any day now.
    “I sure did,” Brendon says, but he puts his hand over Ryan’s just as Ryan realizes it’s not the size 26 waist that’s keeping him from getting Brendon’s zipper down, it’s the fact that Brendon’s hard. His fingers tense on the zipper, curving around the now-obvious outline of Brendon’s dick, and somewhere in there Ryan forgot to keep breathing. When he starts again, it rattles out hot and damp against Brendon’s chest, and he watches as he rubs his thumb over Brendon’s dick through his boxers, Brendon’s fingers twitching faintly against his hand.
    Ryan doesn’t know what to say, but that doesn’t stop him from opening his mouth, murmuring, “I thought you were kidding,” and even though it’s sort of non-specific, maybe Brendon gets his context clues because he answers.
    “Well if I’d known you were willing to touch my dick I probably would have tried something sooner,” Brendon says shakily, shifting his hips up into Ryan’s grip, and Ryan thinks of Brendon invading his space, hanging all over him when cameras turned their way, kisses pressed to his cheek onstage. Kisses, the constant tease of kisses, stolen in front of crowds of thousands and given back sometimes at night when Brendon was feeling particularly affectionate; Ryan never returned them, but he liked the pleasant press of Brendon’s lips to his cheek, friendly and sweet. He’d thought once or twice about turning his head so Brendon caught the corner of his mouth or further in, but never had, and now, with Brendon’s skin in front of him, warm and soft, he wants. He wants, and it’s startling to realize how much.

  255.  
      rustnuts

    A kiss isn’t enough when he gets there, when he presses his lips to Brendon’s neck; he has to taste, just a little, lick at that soft warm skin, a wet little sucking kiss that makes Brendon press his hand down against Ryan’s, forcing Ryan to curl his fingers around Brendon’s cock, and finally Brendon moves, shimmying out of his jeans, kicking them off. He leaves the boxers on, charmingly prudish, and Ryan wonders if Brendon’s afraid of scaring him, going too fast. He nuzzles against Brendon’s neck before shifting back enough to look at Brendon, whose cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed, and Ryan’s heart skips a beat. “Don’t be afraid,” he says, and Brendon swallows, opens his mouth to speak; Ryan cuts him off with a kiss.
    Kissing Brendon feels almost familiar. Ryan’s thought about it enough times in the years they’ve known each other, first because they were young and varying degrees of queer, then when things started to happen for the band, but he’d thought maybe they’d passed that point where something like this could be casual, could be simple. He still thinks so; they’re too good of friends for this, Brendon is too much of his life for this, but Brendon, Brendon kisses him back like it’s all he’s ever wanted and right now it feels pretty simple to Ryan, it feels like casual is overrated and this is what matters, Brendon’s mouth against his, full soft lips and clever tongue. Ryan bites down on Brendon’s lower lip and then Brendon’s pulling him closer, as close as he can get, their legs tangling, Brendon’s thigh pushing between his, Ryan’s own erection pressing against Brendon’s hip as Brendon works his hands under Ryan’s shirt, pressing hotly into Ryan’s skin, and Ryan moans aloud.
    “Jesus, Ross,” Brendon murmurs, and Ryan nods mindlessly, his hand bumping Brendon’s as they work together to get his shirt unbuttoned. His scarf is strangling him a little, and the breathlessness just makes it all seem more surreal, the touch of Brendon’s knuckles to his bare stomach, skimming downward to his pants as Ryan struggles up enough to get his shirt off.
    Ryan pushes the crumpled clothes off the bed, lifts his hips so Brendon can get his pants down, and says, “On top, please.” He tugs at Brendon’s arm, urging him near, and spreads his legs helpfully so Brendon can lie between them.
    Brendon still has his boxers on, and Ryan frowns at them until Brendon gets the hint and pushes them down, kicks them off, finally skin to skin with Ryan. Their cocks line up, and Ryan looks down between their bodies, at his own cock stiff against his stomach, Brendon’s shorter but thicker than his own, Brendon’s hips forcing him to spread his legs wide, Brendon on top of him, close and warm and so good. Brendon’s eyes follow his, and he thrusts his hips forward, the surprise of it making Ryan’s hips jerk up. Ryan digs his nails into Brendon’s shoulders, wraps his legs around Brendon’s waist, and kisses him hard.
    It’s almost enough, the clumsy slide of their cocks together, Brendon’s lips on his, Ryan’s fingers tangling in his hair and holding him in place. Almost, until Ryan turns away to catch his breath and sees Brendon’s hand braced on the bed, holding him up over Ryan’s body, his fingers curling into the sheets as he thrusts down against Ryan. Ryan reaches for his hand, Brendon wavering a little and barely righting himself, his body heavy atop Ryan. Ryan licks two of Brendon’s fingers and then takes them into his mouth.
    Brendon’s thrusts stutter and slow as Ryan works his tongue over Brendon’s fingers, trying to lift his hips further but trapped beneath Brendon. When Ryan looks up at him, it’s as speculative as he can manage with a mouthful of Brendon’s fingers. Brendon’s kinda gay, gayer than Ryan thinks he is himself on a scale of one to whatever the north end of the Kinsey scale is. Although he vaguely remembers that scale relating more to actual gay experiences, which he always thought was kind of dumb because it’s not like you have to have sex with someone to know you’re into their gender. Anyway, Ryan’s been fucked before, which is pretty gay as gay things go, and he’s done the fucking, too, and for awhile there he was pretty dizzy about Pete Wentz, so he knows it wasn’t just about experimenting or liking dick.
    “Um, you can actually suck my dick, if you’d rather do that,” Brendon offers, his hips having shifted to friendly nudges, like their cocks are getting to know each other. It’s nice. Ryan lifts his hips a bit to contribute to the cock nuzzling.
    Ryan lets Brendon’s fingers slide from his mouth with a wet pop. “I was thinking you could fuck me,” he says.
    “Or that,” Brendon says faintly, and Ryan squints at him, trying to remember through the lingering haze of intoxication if Brendon’s ever told him he fucked a guy before.
    “Have you done that?” Ryan asks. Brendon’s leaning awkwardly on one elbow above him, his fingers still shiny with spit. If Brendon had done that, probably those spit-shiny fingers would be stretching him right about now. Also, Ryan had somehow managed to forget that Brendon blushes like a schoolgirl when made to talk about sex.

  256.  
      rustnuts

    “No,” Brendon says.
    “Were you saving yourself for me?” Ryan asks him, giving Brendon his most guileless look. It only lasts about half a second until Brendon’s brow creases, and then Ryan can’t hold back his giggle.
    Brendon glares at him and then sticks three fingers into Ryan’s mouth, gagging him a little.
    “Those go in my ass,” Ryan says helpfully when Brendon pulls them out, but he forgets to be funny when Brendon palms his balls before seeking further back, three slippery fingertips rubbing between his cheeks. “Um, slowly,” Ryan says, his voice a little quieter, a little less cocky, and Brendon’s eyes soften. Brendon was totally, totally saving his gay virginity for Ryan, Ryan is so sure of that. It occurs to Ryan to be flattered, and then to question that, because why would Brendon wait for him, does that mean something? Is Brendon in love with him? Is he in love with Brendon? Is that why he hasn’t slept with a guy since Pete?
    He pulls up short at that last line of questioning because yeah, ow, he hasn’t slept with a guy since Pete, and it’s been over a year now since the last time, and Brendon has nice, thick fingers, nice but thick, okay, and Ryan’s eyes roll back in his head a little when he realizes that he can feel the rough slide of Brendon’s calloused fingertip inside him. “Ryan?” Brendon asks, his voice cracking a little on the end, and Ryan responds with an unintelligible moan. It’s been maybe a little too long that he’s only been sleeping with girls, because he forgot that this, the stretching, could kind of hurt, but he also forgot that he kind of really likes that hurt. He squirms back onto Brendon’s finger, feeling the ridges of Brendon’s knuckles pressed to the curve of his ass, and moans gratefully when Brendon works a second finger in.
    He needs three fingers, and probably more than just spit when Brendon actually fucks him, and both of those things are getting in the way of the fact that he wants Brendon fucking him five minutes ago. “Hey, Brendon, fuck me,” he says, wriggling his hips, working his hand down between them so he can grasp at Brendon’s dick, as if to remind Brendon that that’s the body part he needs to be fucking Ryan with.
    “Working on it,” Brendon says, gritting his teeth, and Ryan flicks at his hand until he makes an irritated noise and takes his fingers out of Ryan’s ass. “I thought you were supposed to be a happy cuddly drunk,” Brendon mutters. Ryan squeezes his dick hard enough to make the end of the sentence trail off into a moan.
    “Come up here so I can suck your dick,” Ryan tells him.
    Brendon looks like he wants to come up with a retort, but instead he crawls obediently up Ryan’s body and pushes his cock into Ryan’s open mouth. Ryan lets his eyes slip shut, and he concentrates on getting Brendon’s dick nice and wet. It’s easy with Brendon doing most of the work, almost too easy, and Ryan frowns up at Brendon, letting his mouth go slack, and then grabs at Brendon’s ass and squeezes his cheeks until Brendon pulls back. “Only you could glare at someone with a mouthful of cock,” Brendon tells him.
    “Fuck me,” says Ryan.
    After all that, Ryan almost expects Brendon to keep making this difficult, but Brendon just gets back between Ryan’s legs, grips Ryan’s hips in his hands, and positions himself. Ryan almost asks what’s taking so long, even though it’s only been a few seconds, but the words die on his lips at the look in Brendon’s eyes, like Brendon’s really taking this all in so he can remember it later. Ryan wants to say something, reassure him – they can do this again, it’s not just because Ryan’s drunk – but then Brendon pushes in, not slick enough, not slow enough, but oh god, oh fuck, it’s Brendon doing this to him, burying himself inside Ryan’s body. Ryan shudders helplessly and reaches for Brendon, who’s already halfway there, pushing Ryan’s knees to his chest and thrusting his cock all the way in before kissing Ryan on the mouth.

  257.  
      rustnuts

    Once Brendon’s there, it’s like he doesn’t want to leave, and Ryan has to dig his nails into Brendon’s shoulders before Brendon consents to move. Even then, his thrusts are slow and deep, not like Ryan had expected he would be at all, but better, really; like this, Ryan’s cock rubs against Brendon’s belly with each languid push, and Brendon doesn’t stop kissing him, brief, searing kisses interspersed with slow flicks of his tongue into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan breathes against Brendon and holds on tight, feeling slow and liquid himself, like he’s melting into Brendon, a warm ache spreading through his lower half. He feels raw already, his thighs aching from being stretched around Brendon’s hips, split open beneath Brendon and giving everything up to him, letting Brendon have him just how he wants. He feels it in his bones, all over his skin, inside and out, and he hopes Brendon feels it too.
    “Please,” Ryan whispers, shaking as Brendon mouths at his jaw, and Brendon moves faster, not even questioning what Ryan wants, what he needs, just giving it to him. Ryan’s body wakes up for it, and he starts pushing back into each thrust, losing his breath beneath Brendon’s urgency, dragging Brendon up by his hair and kissing him roughly, pushing his tongue into Brendon’s mouth, biting at Brendon’s lower lip and then sucking it between his teeth, tracing it with his tongue, taking Brendon’s mouth like Brendon’s taking his ass. He lets himself get lost in the feeling, Brendon brutal above him, pounding his ass until Ryan pulls away from Brendon’s mouth with a hot, helpless groan, and jerks his hips up as he shakes out his climax, coming over his own stomach as Brendon shoves deep into his body.
    He’s still trembling when Brendon finishes inside him and lets himself fall onto Ryan, still keeping most of his weight on his own arms. It’s gentlemanly of him, Ryan thinks absurdly, and he can’t help but hug Brendon, squeezing him tightly until Brendon returns the gesture, rolling them onto their sides. Brendon’s lips are kiss-swollen and red, and he looks wrecked, his cheeks flushed and sweaty. He also has that look in his eye that Ryan recognizes from the days after Brendon had been kicked out of his parents’ house, from his homesick days in Maryland, from nights on their first tour. He looks scared and lonely, and that’s always inevitably followed by clinging. True to form, Brendon hides his face in Ryan’s chest and holds on.
    Ryan pets his hair, kisses his forehead, and relies on the same old soothing tricks he’d used before, in less naked times in their friendship. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep with Brendon plastered to him like this, but he figures he can at least give it a try before his usual conciliatory kiss on the cheek and roll away.
    He barely last three minutes before he falls asleep in Brendon’s arms.

    Ryan wakes up to sunshine through the curtains he forgot to close, a pounding headache, and the sound of Brendon’s heartbeat where he has his head resting against Brendon’s chest. It’s stupid o’clock in the morning and Ryan fully intends to go back to sleep before he kind of freaks out.
    Brendon stirs beneath him, though, and mumbles something that sounds like Ryan’s name. Ryan flicks his eyes expectantly upward.
    “Hey,” Brendon says, voice thick with sleep. “‘s it morning?”
    “No,” Ryan says, careful to keep his tone quiet and soothing. “Go back to sleep, okay?”
    Brendon nods, letting his eyes slip shut. They’re just about there, and Ryan is having fuzzy thoughts about how nice Brendon’s eyelashes are, when Brendon opens his eyes again. “It was good?” he asks. Even half asleep, he’s still hopeful. Ryan’s headache clears a bit.
    “It was good,” Ryan says. He pets Brendon’s bare chest, and Brendon smiles. A minute later, Brendon starts to snore.
    Ryan closes his eyes.
    As hangovers go, he thinks, this one could have been worse.

  258.  
      rustnuts

    50 SHADES OF GREEN
    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles.

  259.  
      rustnuts

    The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.” 

    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”
    It was dark and dark to the about. Clay and the dirtiness oozed from even the fissure more insignificant in the gnarled pong of earth him of years of mofo and dead esteem four billion and deterioration student of the bottom. It would appear generally unequal for an Ane is in such place, but this was not any normal Ane. No it was normal idiot. For this was the idiot of Shrek, the monster more powerful in the marsh. It finishes to finish his a rotten Sunday of donkey of morning and began rolling the sound a cold one of doobies and humid of marsh. It took a devoured one as long and hard as his rooster. The soft taste carried for his respiratory not human complicated system, smoking for outside the sound brain as a smokes of walker for outside a crowd of guêpe exasperated. It was elsewhere. To his pleat of spirit and twisted, practically becomes him-even a pair of helmet of apple. It exhaled of its stems of ear before him grass malice humid and small cold of marsh damaged of a permanent manner the sound brain. A long time not it polluted by the gram of marsh, it felt roasting of the merchandise of another place. Doing Donkeyh’ oh’ you the honeycombs? asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Do by that you ask? Yah looks at itself gonna of yah needs some syrup. Shrek came speaks us in the wave. The honeycombs, now properly sweetened by the voluminous disposal of the green monster were left where they were as Shrek clarifyed the point of their love stick green long with clay of marsh and better moved suits it their immense bag of bullet. Its cheeks with the small pits of splashed end with the corpulence as it puts the its arms behind the sound neck, inclining in the sound armchair of leather. Shrek, you put syrup well also in these honeycombs! I like of them soft but these are also, when you received syrup in any case? Ahk, I harvested a load ahf a return time. I calculated you it would like. The donkey paid the commentary no spirit, it always liked honeycombs and the sex, specially at the same time. It took a plate of the honeycombs and sat in the table very near the seat of arm of the shrek. The donkey took a mouthful of the property of honeycombs of syruped and leaves the sticky perfume a not very salty one for clear his palette. It recognized the perfume right away, as the green sticking spray knew it that would correct his face when Shrek came. Shrek, it said funny, I believe that you used the bad syrup. your eyes eyes were induced in Shrek as it licked a good huge dose of the crepes. Shrek smiled as it liberated a huge wet pet, that was amplified by the leather seat in that it was regulated, and was taken it in the direction of his with the piece companion to stretch. It presented himself for outside of his seat, more on to liberate the nostril pong dry by the whole place, and stretched. His bulbous love checks shaken in the sound every movement while the full sound broke men milk funny jumped joints. When it was the action it looked at Ane and smile with its teeth that breaks down and asked, Ready fo ‘by the whole return towed? The eyes of the donkey widened. To his language it his mouth fell, drooling abundantly as a fabric pants put in the failures of XXL hits the ground in front of him. Now there were two beasts will see immense in the place. An it was Shrek, and another was the pénis of the Shrek. The clogs of the donkey shook and clinked. Shrek planned really in to stuff the towards the top two times in a morning? Enthusiasm was also and it loosens a guttural neigh, creating rising in its posterior legs as the sound a dông an immense success the ground with a high deaf noise. Shrek slipped by the table, sending the honeycombs that fly and criticize Dokey in the ground. It puts a hand in the pipe of the Ane, the soft one as his pants horse heated the sound face. Shrek opened his speech, and Stupid filled it quickly with the sound a fascinated one of tounge by the long horses. It sighs in please, Shrek leaves for its soft Anes transmits the fall, the ears of stuffing and the fall for the low one in the direction of the sound a colthood when Shrek loosens a horrible cry of pain. AUGH ME THE IDIOT It surface sees Pus in Boots that check a rapier. To kiss me, IF YOU DARE.

  260.  
      rustnuts
  261.  
      rustnuts

    this new update make me very excite

  262.  
      rustnuts

    50 SHADES OF GREEN
    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles.
    The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  263.  
      rustnuts

    It was dark and dark to the about. Clay and the dirtiness oozed from even the fissure more insignificant in the gnarled pong of earth him of years of mofo and dead esteem four billion and deterioration student of the bottom. It would appear generally unequal for an Ane is in such place, but this was not any normal Ane. No it was normal idiot. For this was the idiot of Shrek, the monster more powerful in the marsh. It finishes to finish his a rotten Sunday of donkey of morning and began rolling the sound a cold one of doobies and humid of marsh. It took a devoured one as long and hard as his rooster. The soft taste carried for his respiratory not human complicated system, smoking for outside the sound brain as a smokes of walker for outside a crowd of guêpe exasperated. It was elsewhere. To his pleat of spirit and twisted, practically becomes him-even a pair of helmet of apple. It exhaled of its stems of ear before him grass malice humid and small cold of marsh damaged of a permanent manner the sound brain. A long time not it polluted by the gram of marsh, it felt roasting of the merchandise of another place. Doing Donkeyh’ oh’ you the honeycombs? asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Do by that you ask? Yah looks at itself gonna of yah needs some syrup. Shrek came speaks us in the wave. The honeycombs, now properly sweetened by the voluminous disposal of the green monster were left where they were as Shrek clarifyed the point of their love stick green long with clay of marsh and better moved suits it their immense bag of bullet. Its cheeks with the small pits of splashed end with the corpulence as it puts the its arms behind the sound neck, inclining in the sound armchair of leather. Shrek, you put syrup well also in these honeycombs! I like of them soft but these are also, when you received syrup in any case? Ahk, I harvested a load ahf a return time. I calculated you it would like. The donkey paid the commentary no spirit, it always liked honeycombs and the sex, specially at the same time. It took a plate of the honeycombs and sat in the table very near the seat of arm of the shrek. The donkey took a mouthful of the property of honeycombs of syruped and leaves the sticky perfume a not very salty one for clear his palette. It recognized the perfume right away, as the green sticking spray knew it that would correct his face when Shrek came. Shrek, it said funny, I believe that you used the bad syrup. your eyes eyes were induced in Shrek as it licked a good huge dose of the crepes. Shrek smiled as it liberated a huge wet pet, that was amplified by the leather seat in that it was regulated, and was taken it in the direction of his with the piece companion to stretch. It presented himself for outside of his seat, more on to liberate the nostril pong dry by the whole place, and stretched. His bulbous love checks shaken in the sound every movement while the full sound broke men milk funny jumped joints. When it was the action it looked at Ane and smile with its teeth that breaks down and asked, Ready fo ‘by the whole return towed? The eyes of the donkey widened. To his language it his mouth fell, drooling abundantly as a fabric pants put in the failures of XXL hits the ground in front of him. Now there were two beasts will see immense in the place. An it was Shrek, and another was the pénis of the Shrek. The clogs of the donkey shook and clinked. Shrek planned really in to stuff the towards the top two times in a morning? Enthusiasm was also and it loosens a guttural neigh, creating rising in its posterior legs as the sound a dông an immense success the ground with a high deaf noise. Shrek slipped by the table, sending the honeycombs that fly and criticize Dokey in the ground. It puts a hand in the pipe of the Ane, the soft one as his pants horse heated the sound face. Shrek opened his speech, and Stupid filled it quickly with the sound a fascinated one of tounge by the long horses. It sighs in please, Shrek leaves for its soft Anes transmits the fall, the ears of stuffing and the fall for the low one in the direction of the sound a colthood when Shrek loosens a horrible cry of pain. AUGH ME THE IDIOT It surface sees Pus in Boots that check a rapier. To kiss me, IF YOU DARE.

  264.  
      rustnuts

    Ryan was kneeling in the bathtub, a towel under his knees and another under his hands, his head turned as he craned his neck to watch Brendon working. The younger boy swirled the spoon around in the over-large bowl before tapping it against the rim and laying it on the counter. “You know it’ll cool down a little once I get it in the bag, but is that good?” Brendon bent over next to the tub so Ryan could slowly dip two fingers into the bowl, nodding once.
    “It’s fine.”
    Brendon nodded again, reaching out to stroke Ryan’s hair before standing back up and returning to the sink, where all of the equipment was spread out. The hook was already hanging from the shower curtain so Brendon could hang the bag as soon as it was full. “Go ahead and take the plug out, baby.” His voice was soft, gentle. “And start with your fingers.”
    It was the gentlest of their “darker” interludes. No name-calling or hair pulling or punishments for noises of pain. It hurt enough on it’s own, was degrading enough on it’s own, Brendon didn’t need to add anything to that.
    Brendon felt a small tremor run through his body as he heard the soft moan coming from the bathtub, knew the other boy had just extracted the plug. He glanced up at the mirror, watching the boy set the glass plug on the edge of the tub next to the bottle of lubricant. Ryan picked up the bottle, desperate to fill himself as he opened it, dripping some of the lubricant onto his fingers and rubbing them. It was cold to the initial touch, but warmed up as his fingers moved.
    “You’re so fucking hot like that, baby,” Brendon purred, from the sink where the bag was nearly half full. “Now, go ahead.”
    Ryan flushed warm from the compliment, his wrist sliding down along his waist, hipbone, the curve of his ass. And then his fingers were poised, resting against his entrance before pressing in. He was already loose from the plug so it was an easy intrusion. He didn’t even bother with more lubricant before pressing a third finger in, moaning outright at the stretch. He started as he heard the click from Brendon hanging the bag. “Already?”
    “Don’t sound so disappointed,” the boy chided softly. “You can keep your fingers in for a second.” He almost added a soft ‘slut’, but stopped himself. Brendon leaned down, reaching for the bottle of lubricant, letting himself hover over Ryan for a moment, his breath tickling the back of the boy’s neck. “Just think about everything I’ll do after,” he whispered before straightening back up and slicking lube across the tip of the nozzle and his own fingers. “Okay.”
    Ryan whined, but slowly pulled his fingers out anyway. He wasn’t empty for longer than a few seconds, Brendon’s fingers immediately sliding over his opening before pressing in, then pulling out to press in the tip of the nozzle. “Breathe,” he murmured, fingers running down the boy’s spine. “I’m going to now, okay?”
    “Wait,” Ryan choked out.
    “I’m going to now,” Brendon repeated, voice a little harder this time. “You’re fine.” He kept his fingers running along the boy’s spine as he loosened the clamp.
    Ryan bit his bottom lip, moaning as he felt the first rush of the warm milk sliding into his body. The beginning of the enema was always like Brendon’s fingers were now, smooth and soft almost. The cramps would come soon enough, but Brendon’s fingers would still be the same.
    When they started, one of Ryan’s hands flew up to his stomach and Brendon stopped the flow without a word, letting the other boy massage his abdomen to ease the pain. “Just tell me.”
    “Okay,” Ryan whispered, his hand still on his stomach. Brendon loosed the clamp again and Ryan felt the warmth continuing to enter his body. He continued to try to massage away the dull ache of the cramps as he felt his stomach slowly begin to expand from the amount of liquid he’d taken. “Stop,” he choked out again. He wasn’t supposed to ask how much, but he was desperate to know. He’d felt like he’d taken half already, but he knew it was probably more like a quarter of the bag. “Bren?” he asked, voice close to cracking. “I-I . . . Brenny.” His voice was weak.
    “You’re doing great, baby.” The boy leaned down, letting soft kisses feather along Ryan’s lower back. “So good.”
    The tears were starting to build up. Ryan could feel them in his chest, waiting there, another ache in his body. “I don’t . . . I . . .” He let his head fall forward, trying to slow his breathing, trying to focus on Brendon’s fingers instead of the liquid inside him. “Okay,” he whispered,voice cracking as the first tears slid down his cheeks.
    The flow continued and Brendon slowed the flow without a say so after five minutes or so. “You’re taking it so well, Ry,” he cooed. “You’ve got half.” He usually didn’t tell Ryan how much he’d taken, but it had been awhile since they’d done this and he didn’t want the boy to break before he managed to get both quarts in.
    “Half?” Ryan asked, voice timid, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disconcerted.
    “Mhmmm.” Brendon leaned forward, letting his lips kiss the back of Ryan’s neck, then between the boy’s shoulder blades. “Are you ready for more?” When Ryan hesitated, Brendon squeezed his hip. “You can take it, baby. You’ve done this before.”
    Ryan’s head nodded a fraction of an inch, his breathing already labored. He gave a small squeak as the milk started slipping into his body again. “Please, please, I can’t.” He shook his head, the tears coming out for real now. Brendon clamped the nozzle again. “I can’t, Bren, please. I . . . I need to . . . please.”
    The younger boy reached his hand down to Ryan’s stomach, the curve of a belly that wasn’t there usually. “I know you can take this,” he said, voice low but not angry or disappointed. “I know you can, Ry.” He let their fingertips brush. “But I won’t make you,” he added. “It’s up to you.”
    Ryan hated that. It would have been so much easier to go along with it if Brendon hadn’t give him the choice. Now it was up to him to decide if he wanted to be selfish and disappoint his boyfriend and not get rewarded or just go along with it and deal with the pain. “I’ll try,” he mumbled weakly, squeezing his eyes shit and biting his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt the flow again.
    Brendon slipped his hand down Ryan’s stomach to wrap around his cock, gently stroking, trying to turn the whimpers that the older boy was now making into moans. “So good, baby,” he kept whispering over and over. “You’re taking it so good.”
    “H-Hurts,” Ryan choked out. “Break?”
    Brendon locked the clamp again, letting Ryan rub at his stomach and try to catch his breath. “It’s almost all in,” he said gently, still stroking the other boy’s erection. “Just a little bit more. I know you can take it, Ry.”

  265.  
      rustnuts

    “How much?”
    The question hung heavy in the air for a moment. Ryan wasn’t supposed to ask and he knew it, but he also knew Brendon never spanked him or punished him during an enema, so the worst possibility was simply that the other boy wouldn’t tell him.
    “Probably four ounces,” Brendon answered finally. “I’m going to start it again, okay? You can take this all in one go.”
    Ryan nodded, gritting his teeth and counting silently in his head, hoping it wouldn’t take longer than a minute to finish. He was only a few seconds over when the flow stop and Brendon planted a kiss to the small of Ryan’s back. “I’m going to switch it out for the plug, okay? Keep it in.”
    Ryan tightened his muscles, his toes curling as he did so. It hurt, tensing up along with the dull ache in his abdomen. Even with all his tightening, a little bit of the milk/water mixture escaped, sliding down the inside of his thigh. Then the plug was in and he could relax his muscles, but only somewhat. Brendon picked up a washcloth and wiped at the liquid that had slid down Ryan’s skin.
    It wouldn’t be too long, Ryan knew, but it always seemed an eternity. Five minutes or ten minutes could feel like hours. Brendon’s fingers slid up Ryan’s back until they were twisted, gently, in his hair. “I can’t wait to get you on the bed,” he said thickly, voice low and gravely. “Gonna shove my tongue in you so deep, baby.”
    Ryan moaned outright, despite the dull pain in his muscles and stomach. It was a low moan, soft, but a moan nonetheless, and Brendon smiled at the sound. “Is that what you want?” the younger boy continued in the same tone. “You want my tongue in you, want me fucking your ass with my mouth? You’re going to taste so fucking good, baby.” His fingers tightened slightly in Ryan’s hair. Not enough to cause any pain, just enough to make the boy gasp, then moan again. “Then I’ll fuck you. So hard, baby, so God damn hard. So deep inside you. And then you’ll take my come in your pretty mouth.”
    Ryan was whimpering, his hips moving ever so slightly, squirming. “P-Please?” he choked out. “Please?” He was begging for release. He knew it hadn’t been long enough, but if Brendon kept it up, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it in.
    “I think you can hold it for another couple of minutes.” But Brendon let go of Ryan’s hair and sat back slightly, just letting his hands run slowly up the boy’s sides. The older boy was quiet, just a few whimpers leaving his mouth, but still squirming. Brendon let his hands slip lower until he was firmly squeezing Ryan’s ass in both hands. “Almost, baby. Almost.”
    There was another minute or so, Brendon’s fingers skimming over the curve of Ryan’s cheeks and the older boy trying not to lose anything, trying to keep his muscles tensed just enough. “Okay.” Brendon stood up, slowly, kissing Ryan on the back of the neck before stepping out of the tub. “Slowly,” he warned the boy. “Don’t lose anything, okay?” He held his hands out, letting Ryan take them as he stood and gingerly climbed out of the tub.
    Brendon lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and helped Ryan to sit. This was always when Ryan started to cry again. He hated it, hated how Brendon was there for the release. So humiliating, worse than threats of letting Spencer watch or having Pete fuck him that one time while Brendon took Polaroids. “Please, just . . . I can,” Ryan said. “I’m fine. I can.”
    Brendon looked stern, frowning, shaking his head slightly. “Stop.”
    Ryan cried harder, bringing his hands up to push at Brendon when the boy moved closer, but too submissive to actually to do it as the boy reached between his legs, fingers closing around the end of the plug. “Please,” Ryan whispered again. “Please, Bren.”
    The boy ignored him. “Don’t let it go until I tell you to.” He let Ryan’s face fall into his shoulder. The boy was shaking from his choked sobs as Brendon slowly pulled the plug out. He set it on the counter next to the bowl he had mixed the milk and water in. One arm came up around Ryan. Despite his tears, the boy was still clenching, tighter than probably necessary. “Okay, go ahead.”
    Ryan shook his head. “No.” He cried harder when Brendon pressed his lips against the boy’s temple. “Please.”
    “Ryan. Now.”
    The boy was still crying, clinging desperately to Brendon as the first drops of the mixture began to slip out. And then, like always, he realized he really had no choice and just let go, sobbing harder as he heard the liquid falling into the toilet. For Brendon’s part, he just held the boy, fingers running down his back, cooing soft sentiments to him. “Good boy, good job, Ry.”
    Finally the noises slowed and Brendon took a step back, letting Ryan wipe and flush the toilet. They both washed their hands in the sink and Ryan blew his nose. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, refusing to look at Brendon. “I . . . I didn’t mean to . . . I know you won’t hurt me.”
    Brendon’s cool fingers, still slightly wet from the water, slid under Ryan’s chin, tilting the boy’s face up to meet his eyes. “Thank you,” he returned, leaning in and kissing him, soft at first, then harder, tongue slipping in. “Bed now,” he added, unable to contain his smile as he felt Ryan’s lips curve upward against his.
    They walked out to the hotel bedroom area and Brendon nodded silently, indicating Ryan should assume the position on the bed. “Back or . . . or knees?”
    “Knees if they’re not too sore.”
    Ryan would take a lot more than sore knees for a rimjob, as he’d clearly demonstrated, so Brendon nodded his approval as the boy got on all fours on the bed. Ryan kept his head facing forward, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder and watch Brendon. The younger boy loved that, how he didn’t have to order the boy do it. Ryan obeyed the unspoken command of his own accord.
    The bed sunk down as Brendon knelt behind Ryan, hands squeezing the boy’s hips. Brendon leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Ryan’s entrance, smiling when he heard the moan. His mouth opened, tongue slipping out, licking in broad, even strokes, knowing it would do nothing but tease Ryan, torturing him. And, truthfully, it was all Ryan could do to keep from pressing his ass back on Brendon’s face while begging ‘more more more’.
    Brendon sat up and leaned forward, pressing two fingers to Ryan’s lips. The boy sucked them into his mouth without a word, his tongue sliding around the digits, trying not to get overeager, trying not to just beg Brendon to fuck him and start grinding his hips into the bed. When Brendon pulled his fingers from the boy’s mouth, he leaned in for the kiss, smiling as he swallowed the moan from the intrusion of his fingers entering Ryan’s hole while they were still kissing.
    Then his mouth was gone and Ryan’s fingers twisted in the bed sheets knowing what was coming, the muscles in his body tensing in anticipation. Brendon’s fingers pulled slowly, evenly, opening Ryan up just enough to slip his tongue in, licking around the edge of Ryan’s entrance. He licked over his own fingers as he slowly added another digit from each hand, pulling Ryan more open, exposing him more. His tongue slipped in deeper and Ryan tried so hard not to push his ass back on Brendon’s face.

  266.  
      rustnuts

    The younger boy’s tongue started dipping in and out, slow and first, then quicker. Ryan was moaning, head thrown back, hips barely rocking. Brendon pulled his tongue out and his fingers, letting his lips press against the hole that was still open to the air. He began to suck and Ryan let out a stream of expletives that Brendon had never heard before. He let up on the pressure, his tongue slipping back inside once more, teasing, pulling out to trace around the inside.
    “Fuck me?” Ryan asked, voice high-pitched and uncertain.
    Brendon pulled off almost immediately, but didn’t straighten up yet, pressing two fingers into Ryan abruptly, smirking at the boy’s gasp. He slowly twisted them. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard, voice casual.
    “Please, Brenny,” the older boy returned desperately, pressing back against the fingers, his head falling into the pillows as he collapsed on his arms, support following to his elbows.
    The fingers slipped out and Brendon helped turned Ryan to his back, kissing him softly on the mouth, enjoying Ryan’s tongue probing his mouth curiously, searching for the taste. He pulled away after a moment and the older boy gave an airy sort of sigh. Then he was between Ryan’s legs, bending them at the knee and separating them, settling between the thighs before he pushed in, no lubricant and no warning.
    Ryan made a low noise in the back of his throat at the burn, the stretch. He’d been waiting for this. Brendon hadn’t fucked him for a week, not properly. Toys and fingers and a fist, but not this. So simple, just them. Nothing artificial. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, leaning up to kiss his neck. They looked like any other couple just then, he mused. No one would have been able to look at this scene and guess that Ryan had just been given a two quart enema or that the other day he’d been made to stand in the corner for an hour after Brendon had spanked him fifty times with a hairbrush.
    Brendon could tell Ryan was thinking and he angled his hips, shoving in roughly. When Ryan’s eyes popped open even wider and he let out the tiny squeak, he knew he’d found the spot. All semblance of thought seemed to evaporate from Ryan’s features as he just gave in and starting rocking against Brendon’s hips, moaning. He reached for his boyfriend’s hand, pressing the palm against his throat. “Please,” he whispered.
    Brendon didn’t need to be told twice, squeezing down on Ryan’s neck, releasing after a moment to let him gasp for breath. Then his hand tightened again and they repeated the pattern until his boyfriend started shaking his head, not wanting to use the safe word, but wanting Brendon to know he’d had enough. His hand fisted in Ryan’s hair then, squeezing tight enough to hurt, but not hard enough to pull the hair out. “Touch yourself,” Brendon breathed.
    Ryan obeyed immediately, one of his hands falling from Brendon’s neck to slip between them, wrapping around the base of his cock, stroking in a slow rhythm that contrasted with the thrusts. He didn’t want to come yet, but he knew he didn’t have a choice anyway. He’d come when Brendon told him. That was the rule.
    “Faster,” Brendon growled, shifting his weight so he could press in deeper. “I want you close, Ry. Tell me when you’re close.”
    The boy nodded, quickening the speed of wrist obediently, letting his eyes shut for a moment before he opened them back up. Brendon liked to watch him, said he could see Ryan melt through his eyes when they were in bed. He felt the hand tighten in his hair slightly and he stopped moving. “Close,” he choked out.
    Brendon smiled, letting Ryan wonder if he was going to have to hold it, have to wait, have to worry if he could. But it was late and they had to be up in six hours. “When you feel me come, you can,” he said, nipping Ryan’s bottom lip between his teeth. The thrusts got impossibly harder after that, but only for a moment.
    Brendon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling as he felt himself explode and then Ryan’s wrist was flying as he moaned, low and whorish. Brendon could feel Ryan’s come hit his stomach as the older boy started swearing, his ass clenching down on Brendon’s cock as his orgasm tore through him, leaving him breathless and gasping for air.
    Ryan collapsed prematurely, still feeling his orgasm rocking through him, but unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. And then he felt Brendon pull out, leaving him empty and loose. He whimpered at the loss, turning and pressing his face into the boy’s chest as he laid down beside Ryan in the bed.
    Brendon’s arms came up, feeling Ryan’s body trembling. “Baby, baby,” he murmured. “Shhh. It’s all right.” He kissed the boy’s temple, fingertips gently massaging feeling back into Ryan’s muscles. “We’re going to sleep now, okay? Early morning.”
    Ryan whimpered, nodding, wondering if he’d be able to walk properly the next day. “Brenny?”
    “Yeah, baby?”
    “I love you.”
    “I love you, too, Ry.” Brendon waited until he’d stopped shaking before he got up to turn out the lights and set the alarm on his phone. Then he crawled back into bed and held Ryan until he fall asleep before he got up to clean the bathroom and put the equipment back in their suitcase. He was only going to be running on two hours of sleep the next day, but it had been worth it.

  267.  
      rustnuts

    50 SHADES OF GREEN
    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles.
    The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”
    It was dark and dark to the about. Clay and the dirtiness oozed from even the fissure more insignificant in the gnarled pong of earth him of years of mofo and dead esteem four billion and deterioration student of the bottom. It would appear generally unequal for an Ane is in such place, but this was not any normal Ane. No it was normal idiot. For this was the idiot of Shrek, the monster more powerful in the marsh. It finishes to finish his a rotten Sunday of donkey of morning and began rolling the sound a cold one of doobies and humid of marsh. It took a devoured one as long and hard as his rooster. The soft taste carried for his respiratory not human complicated system, smoking for outside the sound brain as a smokes of walker for outside a crowd of guêpe exasperated. It was elsewhere. To his pleat of spirit and twisted, practically becomes him-even a pair of helmet of apple. It exhaled of its stems of ear before him grass malice humid and small cold of marsh damaged of a permanent manner the sound brain. A long time not it polluted by the gram of marsh, it felt roasting of the merchandise of another place. Doing Donkeyh’ oh’ you the honeycombs? asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Do by that you ask? Yah looks at itself gonna of yah needs some syrup. Shrek came speaks us in the wave. The honeycombs, now properly sweetened by the voluminous disposal of the green monster were left where they were as Shrek clarifyed the point of their love stick green long with clay of marsh and better moved suits it their immense bag of bullet. Its cheeks with the small pits of splashed end with the corpulence as it puts the its arms behind the sound neck, inclining in the sound armchair of leather.

  268.  
      rustnuts

    Shrek, you put syrup well also in these honeycombs! I like of them soft but these are also, when you received syrup in any case? Ahk, I harvested a load ahf a return time. I calculated you it would like. The donkey paid the commentary no spirit, it always liked honeycombs and the sex, specially at the same time. It took a plate of the honeycombs and sat in the table very near the seat of arm of the shrek. The donkey took a mouthful of the property of honeycombs of syruped and leaves the sticky perfume a not very salty one for clear his palette. It recognized the perfume right away, as the green sticking spray knew it that would correct his face when Shrek came. Shrek, it said funny, I believe that you used the bad syrup. your eyes eyes were induced in Shrek as it licked a good huge dose of the crepes. Shrek smiled as it liberated a huge wet pet, that was amplified by the leather seat in that it was regulated, and was taken it in the direction of his with the piece companion to stretch. It presented himself for outside of his seat, more on to liberate the nostril pong dry by the whole place, and stretched. His bulbous love checks shaken in the sound every movement while the full sound broke men milk funny jumped joints. When it was the action it looked at Ane and smile with its teeth that breaks down and asked, Ready fo ‘by the whole return towed? The eyes of the donkey widened. To his language it his mouth fell, drooling abundantly as a fabric pants put in the failures of XXL hits the ground in front of him. Now there were two beasts will see immense in the place. An it was Shrek, and another was the pénis of the Shrek. The clogs of the donkey shook and clinked. Shrek planned really in to stuff the towards the top two times in a morning? Enthusiasm was also and it loosens a guttural neigh, creating rising in its posterior legs as the sound a dông an immense success the ground with a high deaf noise. Shrek slipped by the table, sending the honeycombs that fly and criticize Dokey in the ground. It puts a hand in the pipe of the Ane, the soft one as his pants horse heated the sound face. Shrek opened his speech, and Stupid filled it quickly with the sound a fascinated one of tounge by the long horses. It sighs in please, Shrek leaves for its soft Anes transmits the fall, the ears of stuffing and the fall for the low one in the direction of the sound a colthood when Shrek loosens a horrible cry of pain. AUGH ME THE IDIOT It surface sees Pus in Boots that check a rapier. To kiss me, IF YOU DARE.

  269.  
      Bra3as

    StanislavRaykov Yeah, I stopped playing this game only because of hackers, good ideas tho.

  270.  
      rustnuts
  271.  
      rustnuts
  272.  
      Gustavo Reis

    Littletron Agree! But it is very nice to add rare animals. And when I kill this animal, I will gain a great recompesa.

  273.  
      buckstar0301

    Nobrainer Is that seriously the biggest problem you can see with the game right now?… Jesus…

  274.  
      buckstar0301

    tehroq Rusty Planner Go back to Winterfell, Jon…

  275.  
      Codelite

    i guess we can digging on cave :D

  276.  
      AppealPlay

    Very, very cool.  I hope this becomes playable soon! :)

  277.  

    AlexanderDM Likin’ your reasoning about the food :)

  278.  
      Joao Melim

    BEST GAME EVER ! ^.^

  279.  
      AlexanderDM

    - Caves look spectacular and are guaranteed to add an awesome mechanic.

    – Noticed some planters in Meg’s art. Farms would be an awesome way to encourage cooperation and ambitious bases. You might have to make the yield unrealistically fast to make it work it, but nevertheless would change a lot of players’ mentalities if other food were made more scarce.

  280.  
      Codelite

    Fix ur Anti-cheat so u can make me back into game again. trust me. u’ll get a lot player coming back if u fix ur anti cheat

  281.  
      JesseSmyser

    BTW, we won’t need encouragement. As soon as the experimental is baseline, we will all jump in. Trust me.

  282.  
      JesseSmyser

    Fix the footstep sound, it drives me nuts!

  283.  
      tehroq

    Rusty Planner Your ideas for the zombie spawn system are stupendous, good sir.  Perhaps not a rare server event but a system implemented in the north… perhaps beyond the wall? >.>
    I went there…

  284.  
      tehroq

    I must say the progress you and your team have made in rebuilding your game from scratch is just amazing.  I always liked Rust back then but the direction it’s come is beyond what I could have pictured when I played the classic.  Here are some of my thoughts with what’s been shown all the way along your dev-blogs (been keeping up since the beginning):
    – You definitely need to keep the ability to build structures out of both wood and metal components.  The concept art shows just how distinct and creative one could get with such capabilities.  It definitely frustrated me about the old system.
    – Sloped foundations… SO MUCH YES!  Though you’re right, it requires building stability to be coded in… also SO MUCH YES!!!~!!11!one… ‘Nough said.
    – [A thought for Scott]: Sloped walkways?  Eh?  Yes.
    – [Another thought for Scott]: Player made concrete buildings?  Something to finally use all that stone for.
    – Caves are a definite win but I think they need to be procedurally generated too… at least from a set of assets to create somewhat unique caves.  Pre-made cave layouts would just feel cheap in contrast to the newly generated worlds unless you crazy buggers literally made a custom one for each cave you chose to include… which is just crazy!!!
    – Lastly, as for the building system, I speak to you as a grown man who still digs out his Lego every now and again to let my inner kid build like I once did.  Building is a very fun concept to include in a game and if done right can give your community unlimited possibilities, which is just what Rust is all about.  Let players build anywhere with no grid and snap it to the contour of the land.  However, when previously mentioned building stability system comes into play, foundations are going to look much more appealing.  Metal and concrete foundations even more appealing.  If you added in some kind of functionality that controls the slop of some pieces, such as walls and roof pieces, you don’t need to include things like walkways or guard towers, because people could build their own.  Lately you’ve been getting compared to The Forest quite a bit, and though it’s a really fun game that I’ve played a fair bit of, my biggest complaint right off the bat was prefabricated structure designs.  There’s nothing creative from a players viewpoint about prefabricated structures.  Some things like basic shacks and such are obviously going to be prefabricated but when it comes to my house/castle/tower/grocery store, I want to pick what goes where, how it goes there, and if possible, what colour/material it is when it’s there.  I can imagine this is a tall order, but it would work so well in the universe you’re creating and I haven’t found a game that’s done it right, yet.

  285.  
      EdwinPalenstijn

    Rust doesn’t work anymore on my mac since yesterday. Went something wrong?

  286.  
      The Toast

    I’m just curious, and maybe I missed it in an older post, but is there a plan as to finding new technology in the game?  I remember you once mentioning expanding on the research aspect, but I don’t think I’ve seen anything new regarding this. I personally  liked having to kill zombies to get new blueprints, I just didn’t like the zombies, and you are right; it’s too minecraft-like. Maybe some nomadic, unfriendly npc’s that act like players or some raiders? I’m just thinking some type of player-versus-environment encounters that would reward a player with a new blueprint or piece of equipment as a reward for killing these. 

    You guys are awesome, thanks for the frequent updates. I look forward to them every week!

  287.  
      ZeuX

    i love how Garry and the team keep us updated with the ideas, but i think that the feedback that the community give them is all feedback to make the game more like Minecraft, im not saying thats bad, its just that weave all been there and done that… anyway looks sick, cant wait for full release :P

  288.  
      StanislavRaykov

    1. Add Hunting Dogs – You can train them and use them for hunting : Animals , Humans also finding stuff in the world and bring you bones and meat from the dead ones . Also you can lock them in cells if you like.
    2. Add Traps – Very important things for your survival , esspecialy when you are outnumbered from bad guys. And runing in direction where you already place the traps , It can be lifesaving.
    3. Add Riding Horses – You know what they do :)
    4. THE CAVES – Really good idea +1
    5. ADD FARM – Very usefull for big village with a lot of people who want independent source of food.
    6. Weapons: Make Bow more realistic and different models , Also the Arrows : Fire Arrow , Poison Arrow , Oil Arrow ( if you want to set on fire big things like Buildings etc,), Crossbows, Spears, Shields, Knifes,Swords, ( you can use bones from the dead for all to make it )
    7. Clan Tattoo – so the every tribes to have they unique tattoo desings ( or Emblems on the Shields or Armor )
    8. ANTICHEAT PROGRAM – This is the most important thing ( I really hate Cheates in  this game ) They can ruin your game ! This is the main reason i stop playing the game few months ago,
    I HOPE YOU GONNA READ THIS ! AND CONSIDER TO ADD THEM IN THE GAME .,
    THANK YOU !

  289.  

    AIexC RaMatheron That’s a pretty smart way to work around it. However, it’s very easy to make the mistake of not looking down a slope straight enough and thus placing a slightly tilted foundation. At first you might not notice it very much, but once you start expanding on that foundation the difference will become more apparent with every single block. I think a button that makes the foundation 100% leveled will still come in handy.

  290.  
      IISkullsII

    It will be f***ing Awesome if the Implement gathering Coal and stuff like that with the Caves, and the Coal would also be use to powering the Generators, and you’ll be able to work with Energy, and can improve your living in the Rust world, and can get better conditions and don’t live always as an Neanderthal.

  291.  
      AIexC

    RaMatheron

    Look up or down the slope when placing foundation = horizontal foundation.

    Look across the slope to place slanted foundations.

  292.  
      Ultima Glow

    HELP PLEASE!!!!! I am using mac os. This morning i played rust with a very smooth feeling, both experimental and actual build, but now that i try again, after the launcher “play” button, my screen flashes and rust doesn’t launch, in both experimental and actual build. I have already deleted and redownloaded the files TWICE. I need help, i LOOOOVE rust.

  293.  
      Ultima Glow

    I need help!!!

  294.  
      Rusty Planner

    I have some ideas for the game, please reply if you completely hate it ;)
    1. A rusty old motorized vehicle, like a motorcycle, quad bike or an offroad car. Makes sense if you want to move around on the map a little faster.
    2. Zombies! **Read all before posting hate please!** Imagine a zombie apocalypse as a rare server event:
    Dead players have a tiny chance of becoming zombies.
    If you like killing freshspawns, then you better take your time in chopping up their corpses or burning them. Once a dead player, now AI, becomes a zombie and other players are killed by it, they will become zombies too. Players who are wounded by zombies will have a fifty percent chance of becoming zombies once they are dead.
    A zombie apocalypse will be easy to prevent but hard to stop once it has begun.

  295.  
      Littletron

    Gustavo Reis dinosaurs are big, it just does not suite the game. so many other and better options. so many other naimals in the worls that can kick your ass in RL

  296.  
      razredeyes

    Rust can be a good game but personaly i like the nature, wood, rocks, caves it’s very good but why the metal ? it’s ugly, maybe you can add a admin option for active or not different material: enable the wood building, disable the metal, it’s just a idea, on my last server rust i have create a plugin for disable the metal parts, the sleeping bag, the c4 for play so naturaly, in this mod we needn’t a fortress just a wooden home it’s ok but i left the metal door because the wooden door is low. i want a menu admin for set the life of all buildings parts active parts or not and active object or not for choose the gameplay on my next server, i think every admin want a real menu admin for set the server…

  297.  
      Nickdim7

    I’ve got a couple ideas and blogs.
    First make rust seem more like you do need to worry about wildlife, a way more punishing environment.
    Second try to find a way to make it so the animals don’t look like they are in the middle of nowhere, add like a nest or a home for animals.
    Third I love how you guys made it so you can tell if they are a fresh spawn cause nobody likes to hear that “OH MY GOD I JUST FUCKING SPAWNED YOU SHIT!
    Lastly I love the different biomes you guys keep working on. Caves are something I’ve been hoping for forever.

  298.  
      razredeyes

    Hello, i like the nature i like woods buildings but i hate the metal, it’s a island how we can found the metal ? we have woods and rocks i prefer woods buildings and maybe a new stones buildings for replace the metal no ? do you think add a animation when we kill a tree like “the forest”. So, Good job !

  299.  
      HrvojeTurudic

    Garry what about rain?

  300.  
      lady113

    1. add some kind of rare/legendary, wild and deadly animals, like Yeti or Loch Ness monster, which could be found sometimes somewhere in the forest/woods/mountines/lakes, but not to offen. It has to be like gossip/legend. Some people saw it, killed it, died from it and some no being even in proper place.

    2. I don’t know, if it is already possible, but I would like to build constructions, buildings not only from wood. Some kind of stronger materials should be possible too, which would be better for protecting from c4 or shooting them with normal guns.

    3. I would like also to ride some vehicles or at least horses with carts to move more efficiently, to care more goods like wood or stone.

    Is it possible to be present in Rust in the future?

  301.  
      Gustavo Reis

    ScellowMew Do not remove the military weapons.

  302.  
      Nobrainer

    How about a fix on the server history ?? where servers that ppl are paying for ain’t showing in history

  303.  
      Gustavo Reis

    Add different classes of animals is great! Add dinosaurs is great. But should be rare.

  304.  
      Littletron

    LtStinger Mobius1 MarkMak as much fun people would have with slnty foundations , I also think that people would take advntage of them  and make slanty builds and use them as a ladders to get to higher places .

  305.  
      depaepejulian

    Garry Newman depaepejulian lol i mean playable duhh would be great beacuse im waiting for months

  306.  
      Littletron

    HDShot Zachary hate it when people complain about low FPS When clearly its there pc, bur expect the developers to some how solve it.  At aomw point in your pc build you have to bite the bullet and upgrade.

  307.  
      Littletron

    Zero Fox FK Full agree dinosaurs just dont fit this game,  Would be more cool to see some of actual mutated bear even cross breed bear and wolf mix.  Some sort of night creatires that come out of teh vcaves would be brilliant

  308.  
      Stalinavgn

    Guys> Can you make enemy mob look like in a film “Im Legend” thats spawns only at night. Dat be cool.

  309.  
      Manzado

    JadenKreger KeksDose REKT

  310.  
      JadenKreger

    KeksDose your jelly bro that you didn’t come up with it.

  311.  
      JadenKreger

    Why u guys gotta do this? hes going to remove the comments again!

  312.  

    Loving all those grey walls inside the game. They feel kind of Monolithy :P

    I like the idea of slanty foundations, but I think it should be controlled. The ability to build horizontal foundations should remain available, but it’d be nice if you could also build with the flow of the land if you wanted to. Maybe a slanting button/option would work, so the player can choose to either build a horizontal foundation or a slanted one?

    So excited about the caves and the northern lands! I’m curious to see them used inside the game when the time comes. :) I also can’t wait to hunt some deer. Or just watch it eat grass.

    Those backgrounds in the concept art are really transparent by the way. Great job! ;D Also, it’d be very cool if we could eventually actually build something like those houses.

  313.  
      CrazyKaKtyC

    Don’t erotic stories, it’s be very hardly

  314.  
      PainDesPisses

    Cave are just … Amazing ! Maybe a Date pls ? :D
    Thanks for you work !

  315.  
      KingOfHell

    please remove that “Slanty Foundations” , i really dont like that idea, its kinda stupid.

  316.  
      denis12230

    can you tell plz in what date game out

  317.  
      denis12230

    Zero Fox FK no it well be a shite game if he well put dinosaurs

  318.  
      zer0t3ch

    Purpleorangez Shrek is love, Shrek is life.

  319.  
      zer0t3ch

    Toriniku Personally, I’m a huge fan of the frame-based building system. And, no offense, but those who lack the brains to craft for a shelter can do what their predecessors did and become nomads.

  320.  
      zer0t3ch

    kirill96_krg Unless the people on that site took the first picture, I’m pretty sure that breaks a copyright law or two…..

  321.  
      checkseven

    Can’t wait for the game to be finished! Love this game.

  322.  
      KeksDose

    Wtf Dude Dinosaurs How Fuckin old are you ?! Go playing Dino Horde there is your dinosaur Game -.-”

  323.  
      RichardBergstrom

    utilitron Well, we don’t know if it’ll be starting over either, right, because Unity5 hasn’t been released yet.

  324.  
      facelessknights

    Looking good! I’m so hyped for this to be playable. Add Dinosaurs already.

  325.  
      deafjimmy

    Are there any plans to fix the problems with BitDefender? As of the moment I can’t play the experimental at all because of that problem :(

  326.  
      cnoempathyg

    My god rusty balls … Thanks again for potentially ruining the comment section once again for everyone . Thanks again looser.

  327.  
      cnoempathyg

    I’m so proud to see how hard out rust developers are working for us. If you guy’s don’t like it then go away. They know what they’re doing and the final product will be epic. They didn’t make a top selling game by not knowing what they’re doing ! Rock on Developers we appreciate you an ignore the trolls !

  328.  
      JackNardz

    Take the comments down Garry. The community isn’t kind here. Stick to using FacePunch’s website for user interactions

  329.  
      davidxbox22

    make sure to ban rustyballs or im find where he lives and kill him my self

  330.  
      Toriniku

    Isn’t it obvious that people are going to do exactly what you tell them not to do??? You made the assumption that we have brains and it has betrayed you. 

    great job with the game,

    As far as building goes, I wont lie, it’s super annoying to have a frame, and then “fill it in” with the hammer. I’d rather place it and be done with it. I’m sure i’m not the only one to feel this way.

    It’s impossible to emulate the mechanics of real life, so a balance is needed. Consider if we got logs from trees, and then had to craft down those logs into planks to build a house; the crafting can get complicated really fast. Like I said before many of us lack brains.

  331.  
      ParalyZe

    Dear Garry, please ban Mr. rustyballs from the comment section and kick him in his rusty balls. Thank you

  332.  
      rustyballs
  333.  
      rustyballs

    Day z not make me so excited as this game

  334.  
      rustyballs

    I can not wait for the next version

  335.  
      rustyballs

    Good work ! My penis rise up for this update

  336.  
      rustyballs
  337.  
      EpicTitan

    Awesome stuff good work guys!

  338.  
      JeremyYanowitz

    Loving the features! Great to hear you all are doing such good work. We all love you guys. Oh, and, please, ban “rustyballs,” just, please.

  339.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  340.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  341.  
      rustyballs

    Jpux It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  342.  
      Jpux

    This is looking incredible! The game runs much smoother already and everything looks much nicer. I cannot wait for caves, they look fucking excellent!

  343.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  344.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  345.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  346.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  347.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  348.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  349.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  350.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  351.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  352.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  353.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  354.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  355.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  356.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.v

  357.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.

  358.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE!”

  359.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and murky all around. Mud and filth oozed from even the slightest crevasse in the terrain.The gross stench of mildew and four billion years worth of death and decay rose from the deep. It would usually seem odd for a Donkey to be in such a place, but this was no ordinary Donkey. Nor was it an ordinary asshole. For this was the asshole of Shrek, the mightiest ogre in the swamp. He had just finished his sunday morning donkey fucking and began rolling his dank swamp doobies. He took a puff as long and hard as his cock. The sweet taste carried through his complicated non-human respiratory system, smoking out his brain like a hiker smokes out a swarm of angry wasp. He was in another place. His mind bent and twisted, practically becoming a pair of apple headphones. He exhaled from his ear stalks before he the dank swamp weed permanently damaged his brain. No longer polluted by swamp grass, he smelled baking goods from the other room. “Donkeyh’ ah’ you making waffles?” asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “Yah look like yah gonna need some syrup.” Shrek came on the waffles. The waffles, now properly sweetened by the voluminous discharge of the green ogre were left where they were as Shrek wiped the tip of his long green love-stick with some swamp mud and moved to better accommodate his massive ball sack. His dimpled butt cheeks sloshed with fat as he put his arms behind his neck, reclining on his leather armchair. “Shrek, you put way too much syrup on these waffles! I like them sweet but these are too much, when did you get syrup anyways?” “ahk, I picked up a load ahf it a while back. I figured you’d like it.”
    Donkey paid the comment no mind, he always loved waffles and sex, especially at the same time. He took a plate of the waffles and sat at the table near shrek’s arm chair. Donkey took a bite of the well syruped waffles and let the somewhat salty viscous flavor cleanse his pallet. He recognised the flavor immediately, as the was familiar with the green sticky spray that would coat his face when Shrek came.
    “Shrek,” he said playfully, “I believe you used the wrong syrup.” his eyes eyes were trained on Shrek as he licked a huge dollop off the pancakes. Shrek smiled as he released a huge wet fart, which was amplified by the leather chair in which he was seated, and wafted it towards his cum loving roommate. He arose out of his chair, further releasing the nostril searing stench throughout the room, and stretched. His bulbous love handles jiggled at his every move while his full busted man-tits playfully bounced along. When he was done he looked at Donkey and smiled with his decaying teeth and asked,
    “Ready fo’ round tew?”
    Donkey’s eyes widened. His tongue fell from his mouth, drooling profusely as a pair of XXL plaid pants hit the floor in front of him. Now there were two massive green beasts in the room. One was Shrek, and the other was Shrek’s penis. Donkey’s hooves shook and rattled. Was shrek really planning on filling him up twice in one morning? The excitement was too much and he let out a guttural whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as his massive dong hit the floor with a loud thud. Shrek slid across the table, sending the waffles flying and pinning Dokey on the floor. He put a hand on Donkey’s muzzle, stroking it as his equine panting warmed his face. Shrek opened his maw, and Donkey quickly filled it with his long, horsey tounge. Sighing in pleasure, Shrek let his hand fall from Donkeys soft, plush ears and slide down towards his colthood when Shrek let out a horrible scream of pain. “AUGH ME ARSEHOLE” He turned around to see Puss in Boots wielding a rapier. “Fuck me, IF YOU DARE.”

  360.  
      rustyballs

    It was dark and dark to the about. Clay and the dirtiness oozed from even the fissure more insignificant in the gnarled pong of earth him of years of mofo and dead esteem four billion and deterioration student of the bottom. It would appear generally unequal for an Ane is in such place, but this was not any normal Ane. No it was normal idiot. For this was the idiot of Shrek, the monster more powerful in the marsh. It finishes to finish his a rotten Sunday of donkey of morning and began rolling the sound a cold one of doobies and humid of marsh. It took a devoured one as long and hard as his rooster. The soft taste carried for his respiratory not human complicated system, smoking for outside the sound brain as a smokes of walker for outside a crowd of guêpe exasperated. It was elsewhere. To his pleat of spirit and twisted, practically becomes him-even a pair of helmet of apple. It exhaled of its stems of ear before him grass malice humid and small cold of marsh damaged of a permanent manner the sound brain. A long time not it polluted by the gram of marsh, it felt roasting of the merchandise of another place. Doing Donkeyh’ oh’ you the honeycombs? asked Shrek ‘Yes, I am. Do by that you ask? Yah looks at itself gonna of yah needs some syrup. Shrek came speaks us in the wave. The honeycombs, now properly sweetened by the voluminous disposal of the green monster were left where they were as Shrek clarifyed the point of their love stick green long with clay of marsh and better moved suits it their immense bag of bullet. Its cheeks with the small pits of splashed end with the corpulence as it puts the its arms behind the sound neck, inclining in the sound armchair of leather. Shrek, you put syrup well also in these honeycombs! I like of them soft but these are also, when you received syrup in any case? Ahk, I harvested a load ahf a return time. I calculated you it would like. The donkey paid the commentary no spirit, it always liked honeycombs and the sex, specially at the same time. It took a plate of the honeycombs and sat in the table very near the seat of arm of the shrek. The donkey took a mouthful of the property of honeycombs of syruped and leaves the sticky perfume a not very salty one for clear his palette. It recognized the perfume right away, as the green sticking spray knew it that would correct his face when Shrek came. Shrek, it said funny, I believe that you used the bad syrup. your eyes eyes were induced in Shrek as it licked a good huge dose of the crepes. Shrek smiled as it liberated a huge wet pet, that was amplified by the leather seat in that it was regulated, and was taken it in the direction of his with the piece companion to stretch. It presented himself for outside of his seat, more on to liberate the nostril pong dry by the whole place, and stretched. His bulbous love checks shaken in the sound every movement while the full sound broke men milk funny jumped joints. When it was the action it looked at Ane and smile with its teeth that breaks down and asked, Ready fo ‘by the whole return towed? The eyes of the donkey widened. To his language it his mouth fell, drooling abundantly as a fabric pants put in the failures of XXL hits the ground in front of him. Now there were two beasts will see immense in the place. An it was Shrek, and another was the pénis of the Shrek. The clogs of the donkey shook and clinked. Shrek planned really in to stuff the towards the top two times in a morning? Enthusiasm was also and it loosens a guttural neigh, creating rising in its posterior legs as the sound a dông an immense success the ground with a high deaf noise. Shrek slipped by the table, sending the honeycombs that fly and criticize Dokey in the ground. It puts a hand in the pipe of the Ane, the soft one as his pants horse heated the sound face. Shrek opened his speech, and Stupid filled it quickly with the sound a fascinated one of tounge by the long horses. It sighs in please, Shrek leaves for its soft Anes transmits the fall, the ears of stuffing and the fall for the low one in the direction of the sound a colthood when Shrek loosens a horrible cry of pain. AUGH ME THE IDIOT It surface sees Pus in Boots that check a rapier. To kiss me, IF YOU DARE.

  361.  
      pvtcrawley

    Great to hear you are so close to legacy version!!!!!
    Thanks for the weekly updates, I like to see how things flow and end up!

  362.  
      rustyballs

    “Severus, please. . .”
    They were the first words Minerva McGonagall had spoken since she’d awakened to find Severus Snape in her bedroom, pointing his wand at her. In the few seconds that it had taken her to come to consciousness and register his presence, he’d blasted her with a body-bind spell and a transformation block.
    Then he tethered her hands to the head of her bed with magical cords and took her wand from under the pillow.
    For a moment he stared at her and then flicked his own wand to remove the immobilization jinx; she felt her limbs relax and sink into the softness of the mattress beneath her.
    He stood silently, eyes narrowed, dark hair half-concealing his pale face. In his hands he held her wand, and he was stroking and flexing it almost absently as he watched her. It was a gesture somehow full of menace, and Minerva’s initial shock at his intrusion now deepened into fear.
    Nonsense, she tried to tell herself. This was Severus, someone she’d known for almost two-thirds of his life, a man who had once seemed to regard her as one of his very few friends. She was also one of the very few who refused to believe that he’d murdered Albus Dumbledore.
    She knew Albus, knew his ways: he would not have died at Snape’s hand unless he’d planned to. He’d used Severus for his own ends, she was sure of it, although when she’d said as much to Severus, he’d responded so viciously that she had not raised the issue again.
    But she believed that the Severus Snape she used to know, the man she could respect and like, was still there, still living within this black and bleak Headmaster.
    She rarely tried to find that man now, though, and it was a measure of how completely things had changed that she didn’t consider responding angrily to this invasion of her rooms and bed and self. Six months ago, when Albus was alive and her world had still been a place she recognised, she would have been livid and shouting, demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing. She would have been threatening him with Azkaban and worse.
    But now. . .everything was different. Now when she spoke to Severus — to the Headmaster — it was always as a supplicant; she seemed to be constantly begging him for something: to rein in the Carrows, to spare the students, to lessen their punishments (she’d given up asking him to stop their torture completely). No one who heard her address him now would recognise the once-sharp, confident tones of Minerva McGonagall.
    “Severus, please . . .”
    Innocuous, unthreatening words, yet such a stranger had Snape become that she was not altogether surprised when he responded by hurting her. She was surprised, though, that he used his hand, not his wand, sending his palm across her face with a crack that echoed loudly in the quiet room. She bit her lip against the pain and fought down a moment of panic.
    “If you’re wise, you’ll be quiet and listen,” Snape said, pocketing her wand. “You’re a teacher, Minerva, but this time, you’re the one who has a lesson to learn, and I am here to give it to you. Consider it a form of detention, if you like. You’ve committed a number of offenses, you know: You have been interfering in the Carrows’ discipline. You have been encouraging student rebellion and unrest. And you have been trying to undermine my authority.”
    He stopped and again regarded her silently, inscrutably. Minerva said nothing; he wouldn’t want to hear whatever she might say, and in any case, he was right. She had been doing all those things, and what’s more, she planned to continue.
    Snape drew a breath and went on, “You have displeased the Dark Lord, and he wants you to be taught what happens to those who oppose his wishes. You may be assured that if you continue to defy him, your next punishment will be worse. Negative reinforcement. I’m sure you’ll recognise the pedagogical approach. You’ve used it yourself.”
    This was too much. “Children are being tortured, Se. . .!”

  363.  
      rustyballs

    A second slap, delivered with the same methodical calm as the first.
    “I said, be quiet. The sooner we begin, the sooner this lesson will be over, and even though you are a Gryffindor, I hope you will not be so foolhardy as to ever need it repeated. For one thing, I can’t imagine that you will care for the teaching method.” He paused. “I am going to rape you, Minerva.”
    “What!”
    “I think you heard me.”
    “You can’t be serious!”
    “Only too serious, unfortunately. You seem to have forgotten that I am in charge at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord wishes you to be reminded who’s on top. Literally. And I must show you that I will not tolerate challenges from my subordinates.”
    Though she’d been determined not to give in to panic, Minerva found herself pulling against the charmed bonds, fighting this enormity. “You can’t. . .Severus, this is madness! I’m old enough –”
    She felt her lip split with the third blow; the tang of blood filled her mouth. But Severus’s voice remained cool and even.
    “Age is irrelevant. As the Muggles are fond of pointing out, rape isn’t about sex. It’s about power. I need to make sure that you understand my power, Minerva. And your lack of it. This is not, I assure you, the way I would have chosen to deliver this message, but on the other hand, my more benign methods have so far been insufficient to show you how seriously you are endangering everything, yourself included. So I am going to take you by force, and maybe the experience will help you bend your stubborn Gryffindor mind around the fact that there is no resisting me or the Dark Lord.”
    With a wave of his wand, he Banished her nightgown, leaving her naked before him.
    “Oh, god, Severus, please . . .please don’t do this!”
    This time when he hit her, she cried out despite herself.
    “Don’t beg,” Snape said. “It’s demeaning, and it won’t change anything. You see, Minerva — ” She drew back as he reached towards her again, but this time his touch on her cheek was soft. “You see, we all have our orders to follow. These are mine. You would do well to heed yours. The alternatives are worse. Believe me.”
    He stood looking down at her; she made herself stare back defiantly, and he shook his head to see it. “Always the Gryffindor, for all the good it never did you.”

  364.  
      rustyballs

    Abruptly, he turned away, twisting his fingers together almost nervously; the stiff set of his shoulders suggested reluctance, and Minerva felt a brief surge of hope. But then he turned back, his face stony. “Now,” he said, “I. . .there’s something the Dark Lord insists on knowing. . .”
    Putting his hand on her temple, he closed his eyes, and she could sense the tendrils of his Legilimency snake into her mind. With all her effort, she resisted him, and he gave a bark of mirthless laughter. “I see you’re a much better Occlumens than Albus gave you credit for. But you’re no match for me. No match. . .”
    The tendrils became more insistent, and though she tried to build mental boxes around them, head them off, he was too strong, and she felt him break into her thoughts with the force of another slap.
    After a few minutes of violation, he stood back. “Ah, Minerva. The Dark Lord will be disappointed. He had hoped I’d be defiling a virgin. But he’s curious about you; he will be interested to hear of your various partners. Alastor Moody, of all people. Calixta MacMillan. Amelia Bones. I certainly would never have guessed.”
    Fear or no fear, Minerva was suddenly furious. Her most intimate memories. . . How dare he? “Enough, Severus,” she snapped, sounding like herself for the first time in weeks. “Just. . .do what you have to do. Follow your damned orders and then get out.”
    “Suffoco,” whispered Snape with a jerk of his wand, and instantly her throat began to close. The fear returned in force as pain knifed through her, she was choking, struggling. . .
    At last Snape released the pressure but kept his wand pointed at her as he hissed, “You don’t seem to understand, Professor McGonagall. I am in charge here.”
    Lowering his wand, he went on, “And now I know your secret. Somehow you’ve managed to keep your current lover hidden from all of us. But no longer, I’m afraid, because I’ve seen her. In your mind. I saw the two of you in this very bed — you and Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank.”
    He stood for a moment, smacking his wand into his palm and considering her. “Well, well,” he said finally. “Wilhelmina. How convenient. If the Dark Lord knew about her, he would use her, make no mistake. He’d make sure that if you stepped out of line again, she would die. Very unpleasantly.”
    Minerva was still breathing in harsh gulps, but she found voice enough to fight him. “You’ll never find her, you cowardly bastard. She’s gone into hiding, and even I don’t know where.”
    With a snarl, Snape ripped into her mind again. The pain was excruciating. She realised that he had been gentle the first time; this time, he was brutal. Her memories flashed and pounded inside her head, their light blinded her, she was screaming. . .
    When she came back to herself, she was still lying naked on the bed, her hands still tied. The pain had mostly faded, leaving just a bruised memory of itself, and the room was dark and quiet once more. The only light now came from the banked fire and from the single candle Snape had lit, not from her own past.

  365.  
      rustyballs

    “Sometimes to calm me down,” Brendon continues with a sense of urgency, as thought if he doesn’t say it quick enough the words will be trapped inside his head forever and eat him alive, “I listen to your even breathes. I know they will always be there, always on beat. It’s the only thing I can count on these days.” Dallon doesn’t respond and Brendon continues to mumble into his ear.
    “In my mind I can see your chest moving up and down with each breath. Your hair floating up as you breath out.”
    “Why just visualize it when you could feel it?” Dallon asks. Brendon lifts his head and looks Dallon straight in the eye. He can’t think of anything to say so he just runs his finger down Dallon’s arm. Dallon continues in a soft voice.
    “Why listen to me and think about me when you could be right next to me, feeling my heartbeat for yourself?”
    Dallon puts his arms around Brendon.
    “Brendon, you are always welcome to come lay with me.”
    “You can barely fit your own body in that tiny little bed,” Brendon murmers, giggling a little. Dallon looks at him affectionately and closes the gap between the two men.
    “I’m sure we could manage,” Dallon says, planting a light feathery kiss on Brendon’s head, “Besides, there’s always the couch.”
    Brendon lays his head on Dallon’s chest and feels the rise and fall as he inhales and exhales.
    “Your breathing is like music. It doesn’t just sound good, but it feels good too,” Brendon says before gathering enough courage to push himself up and kiss Dallon.
    Dallon runs his fingers through Brendon’s hair as they continue to take turns softly kissing each other,
    “I have wanted this for so long, Brendon,” Dallon murmers, “Since the first time those eyes connected with mine.”
    “So have I,” Brendon says, biting his lip, “it was love at first sight.”
    “Wouldn’t you like to, wouldn’t you like to,” Dallon hums into Brendon’s temple.
    “Turn the lights off, I’m falling in love with you,” Brendon sings back.
    “All of these are the prettiest things when I’m in love.”

  366.  
      rustyballs
  367.  
      rustyballs

    “Not good enough? But that’s crazy! He’s perfect for me, he’s-”
    “Have you told him that, dear?”
    “Well,” Anna bit her lip, “no.”
    “Maybe you should start with that,” she said dryly. “He’s inexperienced,” she continued, “and already so in love with you that he’s terrified of making a mistake.”
    One of the smallest trolls climbed up on Anna’s back.
    “How was the kiss?” he asked in a not-so-quiet whisper. The rest of the trolls looked on with interest.
    “It was amazing,” Anna said before her cheeks turned red as the crystals around some of their necks. “Did- did Kristoff tell you we kissed?”
    “Oh, we know everything,” the little troll said cheerfully, “that’s how we knew you were his true love.”
    “I thought it was my strong teeth.”
    “Nope.”
    “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Kristoff,” Bulda said. She reached for Anna’s hand and gave it an affectionate pat. “You need to have faith. True love is too rare and great a gift to give up for fear. You need to trust that each of you knows that and cares enough not to let go, no matter what. But first, you need to say so out loud!”
    “Then I just have one question.” Anna stood up and dusted off her dress. “Could you tell me where to find him?”
    ~*~*~*~
    For the second time that hour, Anna slid off her horse and willed herself to be brave. She could do this. She could! She followed the trolls instructions and walked through the dense trees directly to her right, emerging into a small, meadowed clearing. And in the center of the clearing, a cozy-looking log cabin.
    Before she could lose her nerve, she walked towards it. The cabin seemed quiet, and for a minute, Anna worried that Kristoff wasn’t home. Then Sven lifted his head from the patch of grass he was lazily chewing and let out a happy-sounding noise. And she didn’t think it was her imagination when the reindeer cocked his antlers towards the door.
    “Thanks, Sven.” She hurried the last few steps to the door. “It’s good to see you, too.”
    Then she squeezed her eyes shut and knocked. Then knocked again. She heard a groan from somewhere inside the cabin, then the sound of heavy footsteps padding towards the door. Almost instantly, it swept inwards, and Anna stumbled back a step, face to face with a rumpled-hair, tired-eyed, very shirtless Kristoff.
    “Anna?” His eyes widened, but she was sure hers were wider. “What- what are you doing here? I mean, hello. I mean, I’m glad.” He rubbed a hand over his face as if he wished he could try the last minute over again.
    “Oh.” She felt self-conscious and more than a little dizzy. She’d never been this attracted to someone in her life and she didn’t know what to do. “I mean, wow. No, I mean hello.”
    Kristoff cringed.
    “I’m sorry. I mean, come in. Please. Come in.” As she stepped inside, he fumbled around the cabin, clearly looking for a shirt. “I was asleep. I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”
    “Why not?” She tried not to look too disappointed as he shrugged a shirt over his broad shoulders, all those muscles flexing at once.
    To her surprise, he blushed. And she found that even more entrancing than his chest.
    “I… missed you,” he muttered, and her heart soared. “How did you find this place, anyway?”
    “I went to see your family.” She leaned back on her heels. “They told me where to go.”
    “You saw my family?” He looked happy, but he sounded anxious. “What… uh… what else did they tell you?”
    Anna wasn’t quite ready to make that confession. Instead, she lifted her chin and crossed her arms.
    “If you missed me, why haven’t you come to see me since- since the day we kissed?” She tried to sound brave, but her voice wavered on the last word. “I missed you, too. I thought I’d done something wrong.”
    “Wrong?” His head snapped up. “You? Of course not. Why would you ever think that?”

  368.  
      rustyballs

    It had been a week. A week, and Brendon had been so good. He hadn’t touched Ryan or embarrassed himself by faking a sudden interest in brands of eyeliner or fatalist literature. He hadn’t stumbled over his words or admitted to having creepy-ass sex dreams. He was sticking by his new plan, which was tentatively entitled Operation Brendon Won’t Make A Fool Of Himself.
    It sucked.
    He was grumpy and irritable all the time. Spencer looked about five seconds away from punching him in the face at any given moment, so Brendon kept out of his way. He remembered the grizzly bears, he wasn’t stupid.
    It didn’t help that Ryan was in a shitty mood at the same time, about who knew what. Maybe he lost his copy of Choke or something. Brendon moped, but when Ryan was mad it involved throwing things. Mostly Brendon stayed in his bunk, headphones glued to his ears.
    It was on a rare day out in the lounge that Ryan approached him.
    “Hey Brendon, I’m gonna go find someplace to eat, you want to come with?”
    Brendon looked up from the magazine he was pretending to read. Ryan wore his favorite black and white checkered neckerchief over a t-shirt and jeans. And, oh god, he knew he had it bad when he found himself missing that.
    “I’m not hungry,” he said. His hands gripped the magazine so hard that his knuckles turned white.
    “Fine,” Ryan said, slamming the door on the way out.
    Jon sighed and when Brendon turned to him he waved thumbs down in Brendon’s face. “Cool, not cold, dude.”
    “What?” Brendon asked.
    ***
    “Brendon,” Ryan said later that night, slipping into Brendon’s bunk and almost giving him a heart attack.
    “Yeah?” he asked, the surprise propelling him to make room for Ryan automatically.
    “You’re a dumb fuck,” he said, calmly meeting Brendon’s eyes.
    “Hey!” Brendon said, offended. “I am – mmph!” His words were cut off by Ryan’s mouth on his, a sweet pressure that paralyzed him for the ten seconds that it lasted.
    “Umm…”
    Ryan shook his head and made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, but he was smiling. “I’m going to do that again, and this time you’re going to wake the fuck up and kiss me back, okay?”

  369.  
      rustyballs

    * * *
    The sun has long since set when Pete and I leave the Zoology Building together. Outside, he shakes my hand, and the grin on his face is wider than when he had heard about the new cricket species. I don’t smile at all.
    Pete goes the other way towards the car park. I start my way back to the frat house.
    It’s been done now. I told Pete everything I know of Jules, codenames, structure, purpose. I don’t know what Pete’s reaction to it was, the Robin Hood aspect surprised him, I think. Still, Pete seemed pleased with all I could tell him. My work is almost done. All I have to do now is to point him to the venue of any potential Jules activity. What does he plan to do? Bug the place, take pictures? I have no idea. It’s not my business anymore.
    I am free.
    This should feel good. I made the right decision here. I made the right choice. I keep convincing myself of this as I climb the stairs to the main doors of the frat house.
    I ignore the noise coming from the common room when I log myself in. On my way up to the first floor, I bump into Spencer coming down the stairs.
    “RyRy!” he greets me happily and hugs me like he always does. “Where’ve you been? Everyone’s looking for you!”
    “Who’s looking for me?”
    “Jon, Brendon, Gabe, Brendon, Brendon, Brendon,” he lists and rolls his eyes. “I’ve been telling everyone that I’m just your gay best friend, not your keeper! So where you been?”
    “I was out. Stuff I had to do,” I say, and even Spencer can hear how grim my voice sounds.
    Spencer looks around us, and we’re quite alone. Still, he pulls us closer to the wall, one hand on my arm and says, “Just because Brendon and that professor fucked doesn’t mean he’s not into you.” I am sure I go even paler, and Spencer chuckles. “You thought Brendon Urie wouldn’t throw a little bitchfest because he thinks I told you?”
    My hands curl into fists. Brendon only cares about who knows. That’s his main concern, his reputation. I’ve not seen Brendon in a full twenty-four hours now, and I feel just as sick as I felt yesterday. I know he is going to corner me and demand that I tell him how I found out about his disgusting, spiteful affair.
    “How do you know in the first place?” I ask Spencer. I don’t see Brendon having confided in Spencer at any point because Brendon and Spencer have never particularly liked each other.
    “Well, the anonymous affair scandal was still in full swing around the time we both ended up in the hospital. I was bored and walking around corridors in one of those stupid gowns, then… okay, I admit it, stopped outside Brendon’s door to eavesdrop on his conversation with Patrick, and they totally caught me at it too,” Spencer says sheepishly. “But hey, at least hearing it gave me an excuse to stop crying over Liam for a while, you know?”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper.
    “It wasn’t my story to tell,” Spencer says simply.
    “Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” I nod solemnly. I know that yesterday I was angry with him too but not today. I probably wouldn’t have believed Spencer anyway. I would have told him to go fuck himself for trying to mess up things with Brendon.
    “You want a hug?” he offers and proceeds to give me a bear hug. “You look like shit,” he murmurs in my ear as I let myself hug him back.
    “Thanks,” I laugh, but it’s hollow. I’m going to miss him when I leave.
    Spencer pulls back and keeps his hands around my waist, beaming at me. “You guys had your first fight. it sucks, but in a week’s time, you’ll both be laughing at this. Like, Jon and I already had our first fight, and it was stupid, you know? So maybe I flirted a little with that guy at the party, but that’s me being friendly. And anyway, that ended with Jon demanding we go home early, and so maybe I took off my shoes and threw them at him on the walk back home, which in turn lead to a shouting match, but then we talked and fucked, and the next day, we had already forgotten about it!”
    The mental image of Spencer throwing shoes at Jon is the first thing that has made me smile all day.
    “See, that’s my RyRy,” Spencer smiles when he sees my lips curl upwards. “You guys’ll be fine.”

  370.  
      rustyballs

    I step away from Spencer’s embrace. This is much bigger than me getting jealous about Brendon flirting with another guy. This is deception and lies and trust that has evaporated before my eyes.
    “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” I mutter. Spencer nods cautiously, and I walk up the stairs.
    I prepare myself for Brendon’s “Who told you?” questions, but I’m not sure if I even want to see him right now. Pete interrogated me for a long time, I am mentally and physically spent. I just want to sleep.
    When I get to our room, however, Brendon doesn’t jump up and corner me. He is curled up on his bed, and he rises to a sitting position, keeping his red eyes on me. If I look like shit, then so does Brendon.
    I’m so startled by the sight of it that I simply freeze.
    Brendon wipes his cheeks, and his voice trembles when he asks, “Where’ve you been?”
    A sudden, agonising pain cuts straight through me.
    “Out.”
    “I’ve tried calling you.”
    It takes me a few seconds to reply. “I turned my phone off.”
    “I left you voicemails,” he whispers and takes in a shaky breath.
    The pain inside me ten-folds.
    “I… I haven’t listened to them,” I whisper.
    Brendon wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t look at me. “I’ve been so worried, I…” He stops again to try and calm himself. He wipes away another tear. The realisation hits me: I’ve made him cry. I’ve never seen Brendon cry before, but he’s crying now. Brendon is vulnerable, breakable, and I’ve broken him.
    “Brendon.”
    I say his name quietly, lost and helpless. Seeing him like this is something I can’t stand. Brendon won’t look at me, and we are not done talking about this. I don’t want to think about his affair, but I find myself whispering, “Was it your first time?”
    “What?”
    “When he fucked you. Was it your –”
    “No, god no,” Brendon grimaces, his voice still a whisper. “I wouldn’t have… Fuck, no. I wouldn’t have let him.”
    Some of the pain loosens around my heart.
    “That’s good,” I whisper in monotone. At least there’s that. It’s still sick, but it makes me feel better that Brendon didn’t… what does it matter? But right now, the sickening feeling subsides to worry and guilt. I want to wrap my arms around Brendon because, right now, all I want is to make this better. I want to go over to him, but I don’t know if he wants me to.
    “I get it, okay? You told me that I didn’t get it, and I didn’t. But I do now. Ryan, please,” he begs, and I don’t know what he wants. He looks at me with big brown eyes full of hurt and sorrow. “I’m not like you, I’m not perfect. You think just because my family has money that I don’t appreciate being here, but getting into Swan was a dream for me, just like it was for you. I want to be here, I want to make something of myself. And I get it now, but I’m not sure if you get that I was fucking desperate,” he whispers.
    He stands up, arms still protectively wrapped around himself. Like he is protecting himself. Like I’d hurt him.
    “Just, listen to me, please. After this, you can break up with me, but you have to hear me out,” he says urgently. Break up? The words hit me out of nowhere, and I feel more aware than I have all day. I never thought that far. I wanted to leave the whole mess behind, but now, the thought of never kissing Brendon again hits me, and I don’t know what to think. Is this my Brendon or is this some other Brendon I’m looking at? I’m not sure anymore.
    “You’d never fuck up like me, but you don’t know what it’s like to see your whole future slip away from you. The first time… The first time me and him… I threw up when I got back home. I was never going to do it again, but the guy was a cunt, started saying how he wasn’t entirely convinced yet. And now? Now I know it wasn’t worth it, but at the time, I thought I was making the right decision. Do you know what it felt like to have to tell my parents I fucked for an A? The humiliation, the shame, the…” he lists, and his voice fades away. I stand here and watch him cry.
    “People do desperate things when they’re desperate,” Brendon chokes out. “And I get that you’re angry and that you’re hurt, and the only thing I can say is that I’m sorry. And I hope you don’t… don’t despise me now because I wouldn’t blame you. I despise myself for it. I – fuck. You’re right, it was disgusting,” he laughs desperately. “You’re right, and I get it, but I hope you get me too. I was willing to do anything, I just couldn’t admit to myself I had failed, fucked up, let everyone down. I was desperate…”
    And I get it. In front of my eyes flashes a picture of Brendon, vomiting the bitter taste out of his mouth, hair mussed and tears in his eyes. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Like blowing your professor. Like becoming Pete’s spy. Desperation. I get it.
    We’re exactly the same.
    Brendon shakes his head slightly, trying to pull himself back together. “So if you’re gonna break up with me, do it now. Just say the –”
    I drop my shoulder bag to the floor, the sudden sound making Brendon flinch.

  371.  
      rustyballs

    I walk over carefully, and Brendon keeps his reddened eyes on me. I stop in front of him, looking down with what could be shame. Shame that he can’t understand, shame that I can’t deal with right now. I place a hand on his hip, feeling him tense when I touch him. I take a step closer, sliding the hand to the small of his back. I pull him closer, feeling like I am drowning. Brendon’s arms unfold when I look at him. He looks scared, lost and broken. And suddenly, I realise that I would catch him. Every single time, I would catch him.
    I press my lips to his desperately. Brendon chokes back a sob, and my hands move to his back, crushing him to me. Brendon tastes salty as he shakes in my arms, not kissing me back. It breaks me not to have him touch me. There is a wall between us that I don’t want. I move to take hold of his hands and place them on my hips, letting my fingers run up his arms to gently cup his face. I leave small, gentle kisses on his lips until his fingers curl around the belt loops of my jeans. Brendon exhales, a small, scared sound leaving the back of his throat. He kisses me back like he isn’t sure if he is allowed to.
    I put more force behind the kiss, tilting my head slightly. Brendon parts his lips, and I let my tongue slide into his mouth. And I never really thought of the possibility of not doing this again. All I thought of was how angry I was with him, how hurt I felt, and I never stopped to think whether or not I could kiss Brendon again. Our tongues meet, and I feel desperate, and desperate people do desperate things. I have my arms around his neck, hands tugging his hair wildly as our bodies flush together, and I kiss him with the realisation that I was about to lose this.
    Brendon kisses me back, clutching me to him. The kissing is rough, Brendon’s sudden hold of me almost bruising. I moan into his mouth because just having him close to me feels good. Brendon still isn’t the same Brendon he was before I found out about his past, he is not that person I knew, but neither is he unrecognisable. He’s changed. He’s not perfect.
    All this time, I’ve been so convinced he’s perfect. He’s not, and it makes me want him more.
    From where we are, my bed is closer. I don’t think, I move on autopilot, my actions directed by need and want and desire. I hastily lead us to my bed. I push Brendon down, never breaking the contact of our lips as I move to straddle him. The kiss is all tongue and teeth, Brendon’s breathing quickening considerably.
    He breaks the kiss, gasping for breath. I take the opportunity to pull my shirt over my head. Brendon’s hands are frozen on my hips, his eyes still red, but now his lips match. He wants this. I see it on him, but he looks lost at the same time.
    “Ryan –”
    “I’m here,” I assure him, capturing his lips in yet another kiss. “I’m gonna be here, Bren.”
    I mean it. In our room, nothing else ever exists. Every time we go to bed, every time I wake up tangled up in him, nothing else ever exists for me. This is no different. I want to be here for him. I never, ever want to make him cry again.
    Brendon relaxes slightly. I pull his shirt off of him, letting my hands move on the perfect, pale skin revealed. We’re hurrying it, our movements urgent, and I press kisses on his jaw as I go to his belt buckle. Brendon’s stomach always turns a light shade of pink when he is turned on. It’s one of the little things I didn’t notice at first but after a couple of times. One of his weak spots is his left inner thigh, another thing I’ve learned. And there is still so much that I have not learned yet.
    I zip him down and push him to lie down properly on my bed before getting his clothes off of him like I couldn’t do this fast enough. I lift his leg to tease that spot on his inner thigh, the one that makes him moan.
    Brendon shivers slightly, and I run my tongue on his skin, and I realise sex isn’t the most intimate thing you can do with someone. I’ve slept with people I haven’t known the last names of. Brendon has done the same thing, the completely emotionally detached sex. And I was jealous for nothing because sex isn’t the most intimate thing you can do with someone. Making love is. I will hate the thought of Brendon with anyone else, of course I will, but I have to learn how to deal with that. This, right here, this is all for me. It always was.
    I nibble on the inside of his thigh, every time thinking mine, mine, mine… Brendon gasps my name, and my heart swells up. I need him.
    I quickly move my hands to the fly of my jeans, struggling to tug down the now unnaturally tight fit. I pull off my boxers as I go, the discarded clothes dropping to the floor before I let myself move on top of Brendon. Our naked bodies press together, Brendon’s fingers tracing my spine as we go back to kissing. My cock is pressing against his thigh, and Brendon’s erection is digging into my hip. I’ve never known such burning desire as I have felt with him.
    “Can I?” I mumble against his lips. Brendon pulls back slightly, looking into my eyes to read the silent question. A hint of hesitation flickers in his eyes that otherwise are swirling with lust. I suck on his bottom lip, pushing my hips against him. I want. I need to, it will let me know he is mine, all mine.
    “Y-yeah,” Brendon breathes against my lips.
    I don’t need other permission than that. I push my tongue into his mouth, letting Brendon know just how much I want him. My hands move down his sides to his thighs, and I pull his legs apart, readjusting myself on top of him. Brendon makes a lost sound against my lips as I pull back. I hush him reassuringly, reaching for the night stand. We’re both stored up, so we don’t have to worry about running out of lube or condoms any time too soon.

  372.  
      rustyballs

    I shouldn’t be rushing this, I should be taking my time. But I’m not as I pour a fair amount of lube on my fingers. I trail kisses on his chest, licking my way down his body. Blood is rushing in my ears, and I need this because this will make Brendon mine again.
    Brendon’s body is tense, and he keeps his eyes closed when I apply lube over his entrance. I want to just go, fuck him hard and ruthlessly, but I force myself not to rush it too much. His breathing hitches when I push a slicked finger in him. He is tight, his muscles clenching down on my finger. I try to find the angle I used on him the last time, and after a few push-ins and pull-outs get it right. Brendon’s hips buck up when my finger makes contact with his prostate. He spreads his legs wider and moans, “More.”
    I oblige instantly, my eyes fixated on the sight of the now two fingers disappearing into him. And I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I tell myself that it’s never been like this for Brendon. The jealous beat is pounding still somewhere in the back of my mind, demanding and scolding. His skin is flushed, sweat already pushing through. He is fucking himself on my fingers, groaning and so fucking wanton. My fingers slide in and out of him, and I tell myself Brendon has never been this turned on from being fingered. I am the only one who can do this to him, just me. My fingers curl inside him, pressing against his prostate. Brendon moans my name, and he sounds less scared and more breathless. I lean down to place kisses around his navel as my fingers stretch him.
    I can’t wait any longer, and I pull my fingers out of him. Brendon gasps in surprise, and I can feel his gaze on me as I roll the condom on my already leaking cock. I hastily put some more lube on myself. I look at Brendon, and I should say, “We don’t have to. You don’t have to do this to prove a point.” But I don’t say it. He needs to let me. If he doesn’t, I’ll break. And I remember the first time we had sex, how careful Brendon was before I had adjusted. That doesn’t exist here.
    Brendon grabs my hair and pulls me down for a kiss. I groan against his full lips and guide my cock to his entrance. I suck on his bottom lip before I push forward, feeling his muscles give way as the head of my cock sinks in. I lose my breath instantly, surprised. Brendon is tight. He is so fucking tight, and I slur it against his lips like I’m drunk. I kiss him again and again as I push in him, forcing myself as deep into the tight heat as I can. It’s rough and fast, and he cries out. His body moves with mine, and even if this is rougher than it ever has been with us, it still makes my heart fill with unexplainable affection. I take a moment to pull myself together, panting against his lips with my eyes closed. Our bodies are joined again, and Brendon is moaning at the back of his throat.
    “Ryan,” he chokes out like he can’t speak properly. I press my lips against his jaw, still trying to pull myself together. He doesn’t know how good he feels around me. Brendon’s fingers dig into the skin of my lower back, and he moves his hips slightly, willing me to move. “Ryan,” he repeats, more urgently now. I love the way he says my name. I suck his earlobe, and Brendon whines.
    I lift my upper body slightly, letting my lips briefly graze his. I move to place both of his legs on my shoulders, and my cock instantly sinks in deeper. He cries out, his muscles clenching around my cock. I kiss the inside of his ankle before I finally start to fuck him. Brendon’s hands fist around the sheets, and he bites on his bottom lip. I wish he didn’t because I want to hear him. But he is loud, louder than he is when he fucks me. And I go hard, pounding into him. It’s hurting him, I can tell from the way he loses his breath and momentarily lets a pained look form on his face. And I should stop and ask if he is okay with this, but I don’t. He feels incredible. Brendon is lifting his hips off the mattress to get more of my cock, moaning. We both love this just as much.
    I can hear the sound of my hips hitting the backs of his thighs with each trust. Brendon throws his head back into the pillow, moaning so loud that if the Sigmas didn’t know we were fucking already, they would be figuring it out right about now. God, he is gorgeous.
    “Harder,” Brendon groans. He looks at me through half-lidded eyes, biting on his swollen bottom lip. His hair is a mess, and I realise that this is what Brendon looks like when he is getting his brains fucked out.
    I change the position slightly, keeping one of his legs on my shoulder and moving the other to curl around my waist. It helps me lean down more, a bit closer to Brendon. It’s still not close enough to kiss him, but it’s closer. My cock slides in deep, and I keep my hips moving at a fast, constant speed.
    Brendon is far gone, gasping every time my cock pushes in him. He calls out my name breathlessly, reaching for the hand I’ve got on his shoulder and moving it to his leaking cock. He opens his eyes to give me a pleading look, and I can’t not give him what he wants. I wrap my fingers around his throbbing erection, his pre-come slicking the movements of my hand. I want to kiss the moan on his lips, kiss the way he says my name when I fuck him into the mattress. I hastily move the leg still on my shoulder to wrap around my waist. I lean down to fuck my tongue into his hot mouth as I jerk him off. To my surprise, Brendon comes the second I push into him again.
    “Ryan,” he gasps against my lips. We both come to a sudden stop as his come spurts on my hand, and Brendon thrusts against me. His muscles clench around my cock so fucking tight that the air escapes my lungs.
    “Fuck. Fuck, Brendon,” I moan with my eyes closed and lips pressed to his as he shakes beneath me. I can feel the sweat rolling down my neck as I breathe him in. My hips jerk sporadically through his aftershocks, plunging into the tight heat around my erection. Brendon’s body relaxes under mine, and he gasps for breath.
    When I keep still, Brendon moves his hands to my hips, pulling me towards him. “Uh, keep, keep going,” he mumbles against my lips. “God, fuck me, Ry.”

  373.  
      rustyballs

    My life goes to hell in early September.
    Two weeks before I begin my third year in Swan University, I get an innocent looking envelope in the mail with George Ross written on it. I wrinkle my nose in disapproval but open it as I realise it’s from the foundation that gives me my scholarship. They probably want to wish me a happy new academic year.
    Except that they don’t.
    I stand in the bedroom/living room of my small attic flat with the letter in my sweating hands. This is why I never answer my phone either: it’s only bad news.
    The letter is short, blunt and to the point. My scholarship has been cancelled. The Margaret Goldberg Foundation has gone bankrupt. Just like that. Just… like… that my world comes crumbling down.
    “Oh god, no,” I breathe in terror.
    I look up from the letter and out of the window from where I can see rooftops and, behind them in the distance, the ancient towers of the university buildings. It’s a short walk to campus, but suddenly there’s a vast, never-ending ocean between me and that world. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, but the truth is that I am pursuing my dream in the university of my dreams, and it’s all been thanks to my scholarship. Without it…I have nothing. Swan University is one of the Ivy League universities, right there on top of the lists with Harvard and Princeton. I worked my ass off all through high school to get here. This is not a joke. This is my future.
    Of course I panic. I frantically call my advisor of studies for an emergency meeting and he mumbles that he roughly has a half an hour free in the afternoon.
    “Thank you so much!” I cry into the phone.
    Instead of pacing around in my flat, I gather my stuff and get ready to go. I stuff my shoulder bag with pens, my diary, poetry books, and all of my other essentials. It’s not cold outside yet, but winter is on its way. I put on my fingerless gloves, hat and scarf, and run out of the door. My heart is beating fast as I try to distract myself with the music coming from my mp3 player.
    I can’t calm down.

  374.  
      infectedgoat9

    rustyballs Dude.. Fucking quit it asshole. Some people actually like talking about the update in the comments. You’re not trolling anyone you’re just fucking ruining the comments section for everyone.

  375.  
      infectedgoat9

    There’s always that one asshole who is going to ruin it for everyone.

  376.  
      Fewk

    Everytime I exit the game, my Wi-Fi connection gets down, because the Wi-Fi services of Windows are stopped. Maybe that’s something related to EAC?

  377.  
      Purpleorangez

    black_spirit You are not worthy.

  378.  
      Purpleorangez

    HDShot Zachary Upgrade to a potato.

  379.  
      Purpleorangez

    ScellowMew Garry Newman This guy gets it.

  380.  
      Purpleorangez

    RylanBowman 15 yo = best admins. Fact.

  381.  
      Purpleorangez

    shaylc2014 In about 500 thousand years, when dayz is in beta.

  382.  
      Purpleorangez

    postalnova Maybe steam news stopped updating Rust. :O

  383.  
      Purpleorangez

    matzzz lool

  384.  
      Purpleorangez

    WereEagleCZ Wat.

  385.  
      Purpleorangez

    Praise Shrek.

  386.  
      PipsiDipsi

    Not playing until the new update ! Keep up the good work Facepunch

  387.  
      Purpleorangez

    Remove military weapons plserino

  388.  
      thebattlenex

    As for the cells, does that mean that you can’t shoot out of them? How big would these cells be? And to reduce polygons will lets say 2-3 cells a way bilboards would be added?

  389.  
      mbneofrance

    Garry, Garry’s Team… You are doing a very good job. Rust is the better Game, thé better concept I never saw. Keep going ! And congratulations ;)

  390.  
      raLfsoN

    bucksexington Alright thanks for pointing that out. I’ve removed my comment.

  391.  
      black_spirit

    Gary, why not release everything that is even not ready (like the deer) on exp to let us all see it?

  392.  
      LtStinger

    zfugitive Great idea to have the best of both worlds…to add to that, make the simple method default, and hold the “snap” key if you want to go off the grid and build a little crazy.

  393.  
      RylanBowman

    I got a life time ban on the forums for posting a thread and asking a question and then getting flamed by 3/4ths of the community because they don’t understand basic phrasing.

    Why have you given 15 year-olds admin Garry,,,?

  394.  
      LtStinger

    Mobius1 MarkMak I think the foundations need to stay, and obviously the purpose of them is to create a level surface for your house to build upon.  The foundations in the legacy version worked good, but it was disappointing to run out of height (you couldn’t tell where you wouldn’t be able to place a foundation until too late) so allow us to change the height of terrain, maybe shovel in some dirt (make it take a really long time so you can’t just change the whole map willy-nilly) and allow us to level the ground, lay the foundation, build the walls anywhere we want…depending on the location, how much “labor” is involved.

  395.  
      LordRepusv

    Why, for the pause UI, when the player quit this menu, when he go back in, it return to the normal menu, not the Options or Server Selection UI?

  396.  
      RobMcdonald2

    honestly i love original rust .. i love the official servers because all the community and modded ones just die off after a few weeks ….   just have to deal with the hackers and this version would be the best … its already by far the best online game ive ever played

  397.  
      ScellowMew

    Garry Newman Man please remove the military weapons .. it’s a survival game not a CoD game ..

  398.  
      gaussop

    @Garry Newman – hi, i just wanna ask. Will be in the new Rust smth like abandoned city biome, where we can loot items, like in old Rust?

  399.  
      HDShot Zachary

    Well I would like to get on Rust BUT… I GET DOWN TO 4 FPS WHEN I RUN IT

  400.  
      yazeeoe

    Garry Newman – Can you please add the feature of chopping down trees instead of “randomly placed” wood piles? You once referred to The Forrest which I was playing for a couple of hours and the first thing I said and all my friends said “Rust needs to implement chopping down trees”!

    Please make it happen!

  401.  
      LightninLew

    I’m loving the weekly updates. It’s nice to see what you’re spending the time on. The concept art always looks badass too. It makes me want to start doing something creative. The game is getting more fuckalicious every week.

  402.  
      viscisbreeze

    Think of rust original as the demo to sell the game.

    This is now the game they are developing.

    I can’t fucking wait.

  403.  
      ParalyZe

    gazisfrench Hey gazisfrench, fellow Rust interested player ;) Just wanted to give you this information: If you want detailed updates regarding the experimental branch, look up this website: https://twitter.com/RustUpdates

    Regarding “the update” I guess you mean the completely finished “new” Rust… we all look forward to it, but as a rather frequently visitor of Rust updates, my guess is that it will take some time before you will be able to enjoy the long awaited full release of the completely refreshed and worked out Rust. Every week they make really mentionable progress, and every time they get closer to creating the game I always waited for. So my advice for impatient people: patience, patience and patience. After that your patience will be awarded in a way you couldn’t have imagined (back me up on this, Garry!).

  404.  
      logr3y

    The building system should remain on the traditional gridlock because it would prevent buildings from looking, well bad. Having the freedom of no grid is nice but still some players (no offense) can’t exactly make good looking buildings. We should just have tons of varied parts that would allow structures to be unique and cool yet not ugly.

  405.  
      MarkMak

    Mobius1 MarkMak I like the idea of being able to build slanted floors, but by making foundations reliant upon the slope of the underlying ground is a logic fail. As a builder I use foundations to create a level surface for my house by having different length stumps or framing. Its a basic building principle. To have a building system that means you can’t create a level surface to build on is a backwards step i think. Is this a situation where art is not imitating life?

  406.  
      gazisfrench

    Hey Garry, what was the 55mb update I just got? I nearly cried thinking it was the update finnaly out..but no.

  407.  

    raLfsoN TypicalBiba We’ve never said that. Don’t police the comments.

  408.  
      depaepejulian

    i just cant wait this reboots and release of awesomeness

  409.  
      DanielAckland

    is this all just on the experimental?

  410.  
      Enewia

    Wow all the walls on the island makes it look like a city :o
    Keep up the good work. Rust was already one of my favourite game but now … *o*

  411.  
      MattGrupp

    I feel bad for not buying this game yet. I’m just too uptight with my money.

    Though, I do frequently check every update, and I’m happy to see the game is turning out really great. I respect the hard work from all the devs, you don’t see that in every game. Hopefully I will buy the game when you guys sort more out.

  412.  
      ShadowPanda

    please fix the problem for people disconnecting randomly :(

  413.  
      mimbler

    Garry Newman

    Do you regret re-opening the comments already? 

    Looks really good man, excited to see what you and your team has in store for us in the coming months. I honestly haven’t played in 3-4 months now but I anxiously await the results of all the hardwork I see happening here.

  414.  
      Mobius1

    MarkMak I feel as though foundations are for a flat surface not a level one… But it doesnt seem realistic to have slanted walls and ceilings without having gravity affect them.

  415.  
      Garry Newman

    depaepejulian It’s already released

  416.  
      depaepejulian

    oh cmn… release now! :/

  417.  
      utilitron

    RichardBergstrom Starting from scratch didn’t mean without the unity engine. Starting a game engine from scratch would have taken years.

    Upgrading to unity5 won’t be effortless, but it won’t be like starting over either.

  418.  
      MarkMak

    All this is great…except… The whole purpose of foundations in building is to make rough ground level enough to build on. Stumps of different length are used to create a flat platform from rough ground. If you need to build on level ground, then why do you have foundations? Perhaps there can be a horizontal rotate to allow inclined foundations if you so wish, with some sort of lock indicating when it is level.

  419.  
      DonaldRValverde

    Looks sick!  Can’t wait to be able to play it when it’s all done.

  420.  
      rogrey

    Will the Northern Lands be exactlly like in Petur’s pics because i was wondering about the other forest pics in erlier devblogs and when they did come into the experimental branch , they didn’t look exactlly like the forest in the pics. So will Garry implement more detail into the forest? Keeping in mind that they have ALOT of work and i respect that. Thank you for your time :) .

  421.  
      RichardBergstrom

    I like all the work and the idea of starting from scratch. The question I have is I thought this whole build wasn’t going to be on Unity… so does that mean it still is? Also, Unity5 keeps being referred to. Does that mean there’s going to be another conversion once Unity5 is ready?

  422.  
      WereEagleCZ

    One cool erotic story : We found some naked man with little dick ,very very little dick then we kill them ,the end :D 

    Here is photo of that naked man :

  423.  
      Shavasku

    Garry, one of the things that worried me about Rust was the stuff that you just explained on “Server performance” topic. Great explanation (even people without technical knowledge like me can understand it). Thank you very much for posting your updates weekly, it really means a lot for the community.

    Keep up the good work, Garry and crew!

  424.  
      WereEagleCZ

    Shidiwen I working with unity too (but with Unity 4 “free”¨) Its look like start of game ,but all of the cool things what we want already exist ,but generator dont geterate them :D… or Facepunch completing textures ,becose that new textrues look great ! :D

  425.  
      rambo070

    # but I will explain it again incase you’ve just started reading our blogs

    Go back and start reading from the begin you dumb f*ck! )))

    awesome job guys :D keep it up!

  426.  
      WereEagleCZ

    I mean If garry post version without world generation ,with all new thinks its can be good for all ,but waiting to complete that is realy hard … I still dont understand why garry dont use Alpha version ,but OK :D

  427.  
      Shidiwen

    This wont be ready to play for real for about 1 year.

  428.  
      Ultima Glow

    HELP PLEASE!!!!! I am using mac os. This morning i played rust with a very smooth feeling, both experimental and actual build, but now that i try again, after the launcher “play” button, my screen flashes and rust doesn’t launch, in both experimental and actual build. I have already deleted and redownloaded the files TWICE. I need help, i LOOOOVE rust.

  429.  
      RuslanYakubov

    Good afternoon!
    At once I want Russian will apologize for a krivost written because I and I use the standard translator the Internet.

    If you and правад read this blog, and you take everything written into consideration, it actually will very strongly please me. 

    Game very much is pleasant to me, and that is pleasant even more that happens to it, the new cursor, the new locations, game new in fact. 

    Me only very much afflicts, it is necessary what to survive among the and game turns into Counter-Strike.
    If I want to do some shooting that I will start Counter-Strike, I bought this game for other purposes, I don’t refuse to shoot as a whole and completely for, but not in such quantity and isn’t so thoughtless as it occurred in old RUST.
    It is necessary to complicate somehow production of resources, mortality of the person that people would think before making a shot in another that would be afraid to lose the Loot.

    One more idea so to speak to make any plants or mines which can be built, for faster getting of resources for which it will be just necessary to fight and open fire on the enemy.

  430.  
      jdcole

    Looking forward to when you hit that baseline in the new build.  It’s all up from there.  I also hope the cats at Unity stop being cockgobbling shitwizards and let you guys have access to Unity 5 already….but then we’d be waiting even longer, so just keep up the good work, lol.

  431.  
      ORYG1N

    Looking great! Can’t wait for the reboot to go live!

  432.  
      karanga

    Loving Goosey’s deer animations, just brilliant! Feels like a new game already.

  433.  
      rust erotic stories

    She had the figure of a model and the trappings of a billionaire’s daughter but she liked a bit of rough and Rusty Ryan filled the bill. He happened to be standing at the bus stop when she pulled over in her classy sports car and asked him if he wanted a ride.
    The folk standing there looked at the blonde bombshell with her five hundred Euro hairdo and her chic clothes and wondered why on earth would she pick up someone like him. He was not bad looking, and working on construction had rewarded his physique but the long hair, faded jeans and construction boots seem to nullify anything that could be said in his favor.
    Rusty was not the kind of guy to look a gift horse in the mouth and this certainly looked like a gift from heaven. Even though his face had two days of growth and a scar over the left eye he had a winning smile and he flashed it when he opened the door of that rather tiny sports car and climbed in. Siobhan Ó Mocháin knew she’d made the right choice and quickly accelerated the car and headed out of Enniskerry into the countryside.
    Her short skirt was rolled back halfway up her thighs and her skimpy top, under which she wore no bra, allowed her tits to move from side to side in the most provocative way. When she changed gear the skirt went up even further and her chest bounced up and down giving Rusty a fairly sizable hard on.
    Every so often she’d look down at the bulge in his pants and the fact that she was getting him excited just driving seemed to indicate she could rely on him to give her a command performance when they reached their final destination. It was a beautiful sunny day and as they raced along with the wind in their hair Rusty was beginning to feel a bit like a rich playboy, he kept glancing over at her thinking how lucky he was to be sitting next to such a glamorous creature, who he would, in all likelihood, be fucking a few more miles up the road.
    Siobhan knew exactly where she was going, it was obviously somewhere she’d been before and quite suddenly she turned down a little side road and up behind, what appeared to be, an abandoned cottage, but it wasn’t, the rich bitch had turned it into a love nest. It was only two rooms, a living area with a galley kitchen and a cozy bedroom. The bed itself looked as if it belonged more in a castle than a cottage. It was very ornate and dressed completely in white.
    His host quickly took off her clothes and bid him to do the same, “We are here to fuck, she said, “So let’s get down to it.”
    Rusty wished it could have been a little more romantic but it was a case of beggars can’t be choosers and so he stripped down to his socks and stood there awaiting her instructions. She literally threw herself on the bed and lay with her legs wide open. She was shaved but not completely, there was a little strip of hair running vertically which he thought looked rather cute.
    “I want you to chew the edges of my cunt with your teeth,” she said, “Not too hard but just as if you were eating a cream cake.”
    Rusty didn’t mind a little muff diving so he pushed his face between her thighs and started to nibble. She began to cry out quite loud and as he chewed more she began to thrash her arms around on the bed like someone possessed. Without asking for her further instructions he started to lick her wet slit from top to bottom like a big friendly dog. Now she went completely berserk moving her ass all over the place and pulling hard on his hair. And when she came she pulled even harder and screamed the house down.
    She was still trembling when, without further instructions, he moved up to her tits and took them in his large rough hands and started to suck hard on her nipples, getting as much warm flesh into his mouth as he could. Siobhan seemed to be loving it but then became overly anxious for him to fuck her.
    “Fuck me and fuck me really hard,” she demanded, and Rusty pulled her unceremoniously towards the bottom of the bed and lifted her legs so that her eager cunt was in reach of his stiff dick – then he drove it in, crashing against her with a vengeance.
    “Keep it up.” She cried, “Fuck me harder and harder.”
    Holding onto the cheeks of her ass he rammed it in time and time again, each time a little harder than before but then anxious to cum he began to develop a rhythm and he increased the pace until he could feel his goo bubbling up his pipes and then he gave a big grunt as he shot his load deep up inside of her.
    Siobhan became hysterical, she flung herself all over the bed so that he had no choice but to take his dripping knob out of her but then she moved back towards him and took it into her mouth trying to suck out any cum that might be still in there. She acted with such enthusiasm that he was afraid she might bite his dick off.
    When she calmed down she coldly put on her clothes, ordered him to dress and then drove him back to the bus stop without a word.
    Rusty still waits at that bus stop every week-night, and sometimes he goes there on the week-end, even though he doesn’t have to work. In his mind he believes that one day Siobhan will want a really rough fuck again and she’ll come to find him. THE END

  434.  
      Reverend0120

    I liked the idea of building on the inclined ground, just not the slanted buildings

  435.  
      LimpingAdam

    I drooled a little, that looks crazy good.

  436.  

    i see no servers at all does anyone else have this problem ?

  437.  
      havelcode

    simply cannot wait!

  438.  
      unlimitD

    incredible stuff like always…just amazing!

  439.  
      alexcyclo

    Yeah, you should borrow the whole Deadwood set. I want to rule serverz from my Swearengen balcony.

  440.  
      GoosemanTI

    TypicalBiba yes

  441.  
      matzzz

    this is awesome, i first downloaded it cracked to see if it was my game, and im adicted to it :P! And to see you guys putting so much effort in a game makes me happy! Im gonna buy this game right now to support you guys!

  442.  
      GeorgePsaro

    just guys keep the work its AWESUM!!!!! :D i am glad that rust is going to change completely

  443.  
      Dragonred

    As always you have done a great work guys, keep doing as well as now!!

  444.  
      postalnova

    Why have you stopped updating steam news?

  445.  
      Dnos

    Great work, keep it going guy’s

  446.  
      MrM0ro

    Awesome!

  447.  
      sammyjasonwood

    You guys are great devs. Keep up the good work. I have more than got my money from this game already

  448.  
      zfugitive

    Looks great, glad to see progress on the AI and the fact that you guys are really addressing and being able to figure out how to overcome the lag with tons of building structures.

    One thing i do ask though for the building, is to add some sort of ‘snap’ feature for laying down frames. Like if you hold down ‘X’ while having a wall in your hand, the white transparent frames that pop up will snap to the nearest corner piece around. It just makes building much smoother than it currently is where you have to wiggle it around for 10-15 seconds before you get it exactly where you want.

  449.  
      sammyjasonwood

    This looks great. I really liked the last bit with the base blueprint. Being able to breed animals and having other functionality in bases would really give people a reason to make bases and defend them.

  450.  
      goku gamer

    Obrigado.

  451.  
      TypicalBiba

    Зачем нужна эротика, если можно дрочить на эти скриншоты *_*

Comments are closed.