imaginaaation

Conservation of Energy (tokenxclyde) The day Token angrily uses the term “entropy” in reference to Stan Marsh (thermodynamically, not philosophically), Clyde says, “Yeah, asshole.  And that’s why people don’t date scientists.”  Bruises bloom in Token’s eyes, but Clyde is not impressed.  Stan is petal-tender; he kisses in quatrains and weeps over the curves of emotive lampshades.  Stan bleeds when you bump him--but at least he bleeds. “You know what science is?” Token shouts, as he’s walking away.  “It’s the only solid promise of re

Medication act i. They practice eloping once a week.  Romeo&Juliet were an art form, not an allegory, and Kyle leaps into shotgun every Tuesday with a little Shakespeare in his step.  “How camest thou hither?” he asks, florid with getaway vernacular.  Never remembers his goddamn seatbelt.  Stan pauses to tiptoe the harness across his chest, hesitating over his heart, like, please, God, keep this safe.  Kyle’s pulse is too desperate under Stan’s fingertips, reckless in its captivity.  Kyle breathes in fits and measures, like a time bomb. “You’ve got to