Still a little hard to say what's going on
Title: Family Meeting
Fandom:Vegan Rockstar Verse
Characters: Mark & Morgan
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer:All belongs to vylentcrymz and I
Mark walks in without so much as a hello, and I snap my laptop shut, rushing after him. “We have to talk.”
“Why, Morgan? It’s late, in case you haven’t noticed,” he says with a very fake yawn.
I had noticed. He clearly didn’t recognize the severity of the situation at hand. “Exactly! It’s two in the morning, Mark!”
“Gee, Mom. If I’d have known you were so worried, I would have called,” he says dryly.
“Will you stop being an ass and think for a second!? It’s two, can you think of a vital member of our household that is unaccounted for?”
God, my brother is so damn clueless sometimes, I swear. I blame Hayley. All that sex is clearly melting his brain. They clearly need to cut back.
“Mom?” he asks, confused.
“Good job, Einstein!”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s probably at a late rehearsal, Morgan. She’ll be back soon. No need to freak out.”
“Oh, there’s need! She has a date.”
Mark laughs, ruffling my hair ike I'm four again. It's really condescending if you ask me. “Silly, silly, Morgan. Mom doesn’t date.”
See? Dense, just like I told you. “She does when dashing young Scotsmen ask her out for margaritas,” I snap.
Mark freezes, groaning. “Oh dear god, not Connor the Scottish wonder!”
“Afraid so,” I say grimly. “Him and his “marvelous” singing voice were over here at nine to pick her up.”
“He was here!? Here, as in our house!?” Mark asks, incredulous.
“Yup! He called me, little lady,” I say with a shudder. “God, it was so gross, Mark. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I said sorry, I don’t find adults who give minors alcohol particularly endearing.”
“Good job,” Mark says, distracted. “How was mom? Was she already smashed because that would explain a lot.”
“Worse,” I answer, slightly disgusted. “She was practically glowing! I wanted to hurl.”
“What kind of name is Connor anyway!?”
“Oh my god, you’ve gotta see this.” I drag Mark into the living room, opening my laptop and showing him the page. “Look at this. I looked up origins of the name Connor on the net. It says here that it’s an Irish name!”
Mark snorts. “God, even his name is phony! Twenty bucks says the accent is fake.”
My eyes widen as I snap it shut again. “You really think so?”
“Sure. I mean it’s his job to lie. Fucking actors.”
“Mom’s an actor,” I point out.
“But mom’s a good one! This guy is clearly some sort of gigolo or something! We’ve gotta save mom.”
“Agreed. This guy’s smooth.”
“How so?”
“He brought flowers. Who does that anymore?”
“Old people?” Mark tries.
“Doesn’t look that old, Mark. Could pass for late twenties even.”
“Is he cute?”
“What, you want to take him out, too?” I snap. He's clearly missing the point, yet again.
“You’re a girl, dummy,” he snaps back. “You’d know.”
“He’s…not bad looking. Dresses pretty well too.”
“I knew it!” He exclaims excitedly.
I sigh, exhausted already. “Knew what, dumbass?”
“He’s gay!”
My brother looks far too pleased with his little theory and I fight the urge to give him a nice smack upside the head.
“Oh? So why is he interested in our mother, exactly?” I ask innocently.
“Who the hell knows? He could want her shoes for all we know. Look at the evidence, Morgan! Oh wait, forgot you’re blonde.”
I smack him for real this time, smirking a little as he screams like a girl. “What evidence?”
He sighs as if I’ve just told him the sky is orange and says,” He’s an actor. What more proof do you need? Those guys are beyond fruity!”
I sigh. Why do I even bother anymore? Ignore him, please. He knows not what he says.
“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you just made a cruel generalization about the sexual preference of an entire profession and tell you that he isn’t.”
“God, can you talk like a normal human for just one day, please?”
“It’s called a well rounded vocabulary, dumbass.”
“Whatever, Morgan,” he says flatly. “How do you know he’s not?”
“He…kissed mom,” I say weakly, cringing as his jaw drops.
“He what!?”
“I uh, saw them do it on the porch as they were leaving.”
“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Mark says firmly. “All there is to it, he’s not touching mom.”
“I actually had to witness it! You think I liked seeing her like that!? Kissing some other guy whose not...”
He looks at me, and there’s an awkward silence. We both know what the other is thinking, but Mark is the first to speak.
“He’s not Dad,” he says softly.
“Yeah, I know,” I whisper, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out, okay?”
“He has to be stopped.”
“I know, Mark. We’ll get her back.”
And we will. Our mother isn't going anywhere without a fight.
Fandom:Vegan Rockstar Verse
Characters: Mark & Morgan
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer:All belongs to vylentcrymz and I
Mark walks in without so much as a hello, and I snap my laptop shut, rushing after him. “We have to talk.”
“Why, Morgan? It’s late, in case you haven’t noticed,” he says with a very fake yawn.
I had noticed. He clearly didn’t recognize the severity of the situation at hand. “Exactly! It’s two in the morning, Mark!”
“Gee, Mom. If I’d have known you were so worried, I would have called,” he says dryly.
“Will you stop being an ass and think for a second!? It’s two, can you think of a vital member of our household that is unaccounted for?”
God, my brother is so damn clueless sometimes, I swear. I blame Hayley. All that sex is clearly melting his brain. They clearly need to cut back.
“Mom?” he asks, confused.
“Good job, Einstein!”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s probably at a late rehearsal, Morgan. She’ll be back soon. No need to freak out.”
“Oh, there’s need! She has a date.”
Mark laughs, ruffling my hair ike I'm four again. It's really condescending if you ask me. “Silly, silly, Morgan. Mom doesn’t date.”
See? Dense, just like I told you. “She does when dashing young Scotsmen ask her out for margaritas,” I snap.
Mark freezes, groaning. “Oh dear god, not Connor the Scottish wonder!”
“Afraid so,” I say grimly. “Him and his “marvelous” singing voice were over here at nine to pick her up.”
“He was here!? Here, as in our house!?” Mark asks, incredulous.
“Yup! He called me, little lady,” I say with a shudder. “God, it was so gross, Mark. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I said sorry, I don’t find adults who give minors alcohol particularly endearing.”
“Good job,” Mark says, distracted. “How was mom? Was she already smashed because that would explain a lot.”
“Worse,” I answer, slightly disgusted. “She was practically glowing! I wanted to hurl.”
“What kind of name is Connor anyway!?”
“Oh my god, you’ve gotta see this.” I drag Mark into the living room, opening my laptop and showing him the page. “Look at this. I looked up origins of the name Connor on the net. It says here that it’s an Irish name!”
Mark snorts. “God, even his name is phony! Twenty bucks says the accent is fake.”
My eyes widen as I snap it shut again. “You really think so?”
“Sure. I mean it’s his job to lie. Fucking actors.”
“Mom’s an actor,” I point out.
“But mom’s a good one! This guy is clearly some sort of gigolo or something! We’ve gotta save mom.”
“Agreed. This guy’s smooth.”
“How so?”
“He brought flowers. Who does that anymore?”
“Old people?” Mark tries.
“Doesn’t look that old, Mark. Could pass for late twenties even.”
“Is he cute?”
“What, you want to take him out, too?” I snap. He's clearly missing the point, yet again.
“You’re a girl, dummy,” he snaps back. “You’d know.”
“He’s…not bad looking. Dresses pretty well too.”
“I knew it!” He exclaims excitedly.
I sigh, exhausted already. “Knew what, dumbass?”
“He’s gay!”
My brother looks far too pleased with his little theory and I fight the urge to give him a nice smack upside the head.
“Oh? So why is he interested in our mother, exactly?” I ask innocently.
“Who the hell knows? He could want her shoes for all we know. Look at the evidence, Morgan! Oh wait, forgot you’re blonde.”
I smack him for real this time, smirking a little as he screams like a girl. “What evidence?”
He sighs as if I’ve just told him the sky is orange and says,” He’s an actor. What more proof do you need? Those guys are beyond fruity!”
I sigh. Why do I even bother anymore? Ignore him, please. He knows not what he says.
“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you just made a cruel generalization about the sexual preference of an entire profession and tell you that he isn’t.”
“God, can you talk like a normal human for just one day, please?”
“It’s called a well rounded vocabulary, dumbass.”
“Whatever, Morgan,” he says flatly. “How do you know he’s not?”
“He…kissed mom,” I say weakly, cringing as his jaw drops.
“He what!?”
“I uh, saw them do it on the porch as they were leaving.”
“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Mark says firmly. “All there is to it, he’s not touching mom.”
“I actually had to witness it! You think I liked seeing her like that!? Kissing some other guy whose not...”
He looks at me, and there’s an awkward silence. We both know what the other is thinking, but Mark is the first to speak.
“He’s not Dad,” he says softly.
“Yeah, I know,” I whisper, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out, okay?”
“He has to be stopped.”
“I know, Mark. We’ll get her back.”
And we will. Our mother isn't going anywhere without a fight.