MOVED

MY SON

One hundred and eighty pounds of deadly, marine-trained muscle and the man was soft as butter as soon as it came to his daughter’s puppy-dog eyes. And damn if it wasn’t impossible to stay mad at him when he was being such a sweetheart. “You let her name it, Frank. You know what that means.” 

“I can’t stop her from goin’ ‘Daddy her name is Luna’-” any more of an argument kind of dies in his throat, but he clenches his fists and leans against the kitchen counter. Huff of a sigh. “But it means I... take it to the shelter and tell her I found it’s mama, yeah?”

“      Di-did we just adopt a cat without anybody consulting me?” Hand on that cocked hip of hers meant somebody was getting yelled at in favour of finishing folding the laundry. 

Shit.

a pause. shifty eyes.

         what is she doing? trying to rub the sauce away, that’s what. “ na. no. no? no. no that, that was there, francis. the van is a mess. ”

‘it’s a mess ‘cause SOMEBODY is always goin’ ‘aw frank i’m HUNGRY can we get DRIVE THROUGH’ and then when they say ‘do you want extra napkins’ you got the balls to say ‘NO WE GOT IT’ and this is why max licks the fucking seats.’

me after one (1) glass of mascato: MATT MURDICK SHOULD’VE LEFT HIS STUPID FUCKIN HELMET ON IN DE/FENDERS BUT NO HIS BONER GOT IN THE WAY AND HE TOOK THE FUCKIN HELMET OFF FOR A KISS WHEN HE COULD’VE STILL KISSED WITH IT ON AND PROTECT HIS STUPID BIG HEAD IT PROTECTED HIM FROM A BULLET WHY WOULD HE EVER TAKE THAT FUCKIN THING OFF—–

“maria/frank/karen ot3” finally some good food

maria and frank meeting this plucky secretary-soon-to be-reporter and they’re both like ‘dAMN’ maria’s like ‘she has legs for DAYS francis’ and frank’s like ‘i KNOW i SAW’