#Good in HUGE quotes obviously

[thecupcakewritesmorethings]

Meet the Ossifers

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull x Reader

Plot: Jesse, currently acting as Richard Ossifer, returns to his fake spouse and their son on Halloween afternoon after a successful surgery. He proceeds to get a wholesome surprise.

Contrary to what one might expect, Jesse quite enjoys the concept of Halloween. Okay, sure. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the adult costumes unless he was actively hunting... And YES, a thousand roving little packs of children being lead around by their parents or older siblings could get annoying...

However, the safety and sanctity to be anything, or anyone HE wanted to be was a delight in of itself. More often than not, however, he choses to remain the one thing he doesn’t need a costume for; himself.

The sentiment may have been a little gaudy, but it rung VERY true for Jesse... Or “Richard Ossifer,” to his new neighbors. When else was the normally bandaged, mute man, going to enjoy the comfort of wearing his mask and suit out in public without it activating some fight-or-flight instinct in the general populace?...

... And in a way, he was happy he chose today to schedule his dental surgery.

Spann had driven him too and from his appointment. As much as it killed his machismo to not sit in the driver’s seat; he had to be careful. So the backseat, reclined as far as he could go would have to do. From behind the confines of his ace bandages he could feel his cheeks swelling to an otherwise alarming degree.

He tried not to think about how fucked up he’d look.

Instead, he focused on the world passing by outside. He surveyed the decorations in the shop windows, watching all the pumpkins and the sugar skulls and streamers. It wasn’t dark yet, but on occasion he’d pass by someone in their costume about to go out for candy.

Jesse should have reminded you to pick up candy... The good kind, too. Not the fun-sized stuff... Oh well. Maybe he’d be able to convince you to go get the goods after he arrived. They weren’t that far away from the house...

Wait. Anesthetic make braincells go brrr- he has a PHONE. In a few seconds he is patting himself down, earning a quick glance from Spann as he withdraws his phone.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

He shakes his head and sends you the message. Spann, he guessed, was more than capable of walking into a Target or Walmart to get candy- but he needed to be home. He’d not bother her with it.

It’s Halloween. Do we have good candy?

It takes a few moments for you to respond. When you do, Jesse feels slightly baffled.

Yeah. Cole and I went out and got costumes last week, don’t you remember?

No. He didn’t. Did Spann go with you? He wracked his brain trying to recall you requesting--.... Oh. That’s right. You had asked him for a few hundred the week prior for something. You had told him- but by now your fake relationship as his happy little house-spouse had become iron clad. He never batted an eye when you asked for some pocket change.

What candy did you guys get?

A variety pack.

It’s a bunch of fun-sized stuff isn’t it?

You haven’t met Cole high on sugar. Trust me. You want fun-sized.

Oh. Now Jesse had to jump to your son’s honor. It had been a happy little coincidence that you had a young son when Spann had scoped you out. You had been... Struggling, to put it mildly, when Spann found you. It had been a risk when Jesse suggested that acting the part of his romantic partner would help keep you and your child afloat. Thankfully, you listened.

Well. You haven’t met Richard short on sugar.

Didn’t you just get out of surgery?

I recover well.

Cole was only six, but by god. Cole was impossibly ideal for a child. Sweet, respectful for a child his age, thought “Richie” was the coolest thing since sliced bread. Jesse had been hesitant, initially when he discovered you had a child. His plan would have gone to shit if Cole didn’t like him, and even if Cole HAD he wasn’t... Sure how he’d feel around kids since his Ex’s death.

Note to self: hide candy. From you.

Traitor.

Jesse returns his gaze to the road and watches for a moment as he lets any unease in his stomach uncoil. He’s the type to get motion sick if he’s looking down in a car, and the cocktail of pain meds and worn off anesthesia is making it worse.

After a few seconds he lifts his phone again.

What costumes did you get?

You do not respond immediately and it... Well, this is the ONE thing that annoys Jesse sometimes. Half of the time this is the only way he can talk to you, and though he knows you aren’t ignoring him on purpose: it’s hard to not feel that way sometimes.

You’ll see.~

Oh now he was curious.

... What are the costumes?

Trust me, you want to see them when you get back. We’re already in them!

Now Jesse was getting... Annoyed. Where you purposefully trying to be obtuse?

Pics?...

A thought occurred.

It’s nothing raunchy is it?

What? No. Cole picked them out!

However, his insistence was paying off. 

Let’s put it this way; we match!

... “We Match?” What the heck was that supposed to mean. Were you trying to be cute, and wound up being obtuse about it?

Jesse detested this guessing game, but before he pulled out the financial benefactor card, you recovered.

You want me to make you a shake?

Fuck yeah.

His eye hurt too much now, and his stomach was up in knots. Jesse didn’t like the idea, but he hated the idea of vomiting in Spann’s vehicle even less. He reclined and tried to relax the rest of the way home.

As tempting as it was to close his eyes, though, Jesse couldn’t. He and his little makeshift family lived in the back of a large suburban neighborhood of well-to-dos. Hiding in plain sight, really. Which meant you and Cole were essential. As far as your neighbors knew, your veteran of a boyfriend had been planning to tie the knot with you for quite some time... But the car accident had left his face burned and ruined, and so the two of you had decided to postpone it. Still, Jesse had been happy when you never corrected anyone who called you Mx. Ossifer.

There were lines of Mc-Mansions and slightly decorated lawns, but nothing too crazy for the Halloween Holiday, even as kids and their families dragged out red wagons to cart around toddlers and their candies... Maybe Jesse could have paid a landscape artist to decorate. You had only done so much on your own.

As Spann pulled up into the circular driveway of your shared home, Jesse had only been reminded that you hadn’t done too much to decorate. A few foam jack-o-lanterns at the doorstep, a few small pumpkins littered along the walkway, and orange lights replacing the walkway lights.

Spann helped him out of the car, and moments after stepping out he felt his entire back let out a symphony of pops. God he was tired. Still, the procedure would help him in the long-run... Plus he had a shake waiting on the inside.

After taking a few uneasy, sore steps, Spann offered her shoulder to help Jesse in, and minutes before they got to the French doors of the house, Cole opened them and stepped out.

He was wearing his Sunday best, a gift from Jesse for his birthday, excluding the dress shoes which had been swapped out for much more comfortable tennis shoes. He stared up at Jesse through a metallic half-mask shaped like a skull, with the other half of his face painted to look like a skeleton.

“You’re BACK!” he said to Jesse as he ran forward and went-- straight for the knees-- and hugged Jesse. “I missed you, Richie!”

Jesse could die and go to hell and he’d be happy. Forget the shake. There was a kid less than ten years old who was dressed up as a fancy skeleton holding his knee. It took all of three seconds before said child was scooped up into Jesse’s arms and safely clinging around Jesse’s neck.

You were soon to follow, a glass and a large straw poking out of it. You were- also in costume, but unlike Cole your face was all makeup to match the painted parts of his face...

Jesse continued to assess you with one eye while you approached with the shake. You had been dressed up nicely as well. Maybe not as corporate and formal as Cole, but you dressed well. Head-to-toe in black, bordering slightly on too form-fitting for a funeral, but far too dark for casual house-spouse attire.

A makeshift family of three Skeletons. You, looking like a modern-day Adams, Cole looking like a mini, corporate Grim Reaper... And of course... Jesse himself.

No. Not Jesse.

Richard. Richie Ossifer.

“Chocolate shake?” you asked. “Since your teeth will hurt otherwise?”

As soon as Jesse had picked up Cole, he sat him down and began typing away on his phone. He held it up to you frantically.

What’s this for?

“Oh, well.” Instantly through the skull paint he could see your face warp to a pensive frown of unease. “Cole SAID he wanted to be like you for Halloween, and when I saw the half-mask and the face-paint I came up with the idea. I didn’t...” your eyes turned to Spann for a split second. “I didn’t over-step did I?”

No. No you had not.

Jesse came forward and pulled you into an uncharacteristically emotional hug as Cole hugged your legs. “Yayyyy~ He likes it!~”

A perfect little cover-family. Jesse may have needed this cover family, but in that moment he wished so desperately that a fraction of the lie was a truth. To come home to an understanding spouse, a loving step-child... God damn, Richard was a lucky son of a bitch, and he wasn’t even real. Right now, though- the two of you were.

Pictures.

Jesse quickly released you and turned to Spann who was busy... Processing this. His hand shot out with his phone.

Spann held the phone in her hand and gave a sort of half-frown. “Sir, you’re not... You’re not in your mask.”

FUCK SHE WAS RIGHT.

Jesse stormed off into the house, maybe faster than was probably safe on as many pain meds as he had in his system, but the man waltzed right up to his stairs before slowing down. Cole passed him up. “I’ll get it! In the bathroom?”

The man nodded, lifting his hands to sign “Shelves”. Cole had done good learning a few spare ASL phrases... Still wouldn’t sign back to Jesse but, well. He’d take a win where it mattered.

“OKAY!” Cole hollered halfway running to Jesse’s room already as you and Spann entered the house.

“Sir, you just came out from under the knife. You should probably sit down.”

Jesse shook his head and signed HELL, then proceeded to shake his head. Hell no, he said. Had to get pictures with his boy and his spouse. It was actually odd, Spann let out a humored chuckle-snort. Clearly she found the idea cute as well. 

Seconds later Cole came running down the stairs with the Chromeskull mask in his hand and handed it to the tall man on the way down. “Pictures! Pictures!”

Jesse bobbed his head to the chant and held hands as they descended the stairs with a jaunty little step.

In no time at all Jesse grabbed your arm and pulled you up a step to get better into the photo and Cole was up in his arms. In three seconds Spann would take no fewer than five pictures of “Richie” and the rest of the Ossifers. In twenty minutes, Jessie would convince Spann and you to let him stay up to pass out candy while you went out with Cole. When you’d return several neighbors would tell you how adorable your family Halloween theme was.

An hour after that the paint on you and Cole’s face would be hastily washed off and soup would be had for dinner. Your son would be asleep on the entertainment system and Spann would leave. Jesse would help wake Cole long enough to get him into his bed and the two of you would go to your own separate rooms.

If it hadn’t been for his aching jaw, Jesse would have been brave and tried to coax you into spending a little bit more time together... Put on a horror movie. Maybe be coy and get closer to you, or pull you a little closer if you’d allow it... But his jaw was aching, and he desperately didn’t want this day to end with him over-stepping any boundaries, so he went to his bed alone and looked at the photos once more... He’d get a few of these printed for the home office.

Richard Ossifer was a lucky man. A lucky man indeed.

[ink-the-artist]

holy shit I did NOT realize how popular my "I will remove my teeth, for I want to remain kind despite my anger" quote is. I just googled it for fun to see what would come up, a bunch of people are quoting it not knowing who its from, an artist called Kuma made an album titled that, so bizzare

[unganseylike]

~

~

~

~ 

~

“Love Like Ghosts" // The Raven Cycle

When your true love is destined to die, is already dead, or will always be leaving. And other moments of ghostliness. 

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

average United States contains 1000s of pet tigers in backyards" factoid actualy [sic] just statistical error. average person has 0 tigers on property. Activist Georg, who lives the U.S. Capitol & makes up over 10,000 each day, has purposefully been spreading disinformation adn [sic] should not have been counted

I have a big mad today, folks. It's a really frustrating one, because years worth of work has been validated... but the reason for that fucking sucks.

For almost a decade, I've been trying to fact-check the claim that there "are 10,000 to 20,000 pet tigers/big cats in backyards in the United States." I talked to zoo, sanctuary, and private cat people; I looked at legislation, regulation, attack/death/escape incident rates; I read everything I could get my hands on. None of it made sense. None of it lined up. I couldn't find data supporting anything like the population of pet cats being alleged to exist. Some of you might remember the series I published on those findings from 2018 or so under the hashtag #CrouchingTigerHiddenData. I've continued to work on it in the six years since, including publishing a peer reviewed study that counted all the non-pet big cats in the US (because even though they're regulated, apparently nobody bothered to keep track of those either).

I spent years of my life obsessing over that statistic because it was being used to push for new federal legislation that, while well intentioned, contained language that would, and has, created real problems for ethical facilities that have big cats. I wrote a comprehensive - 35 page! - analysis of the issues with the then-current version of the Big Cat Public Safety Act in 2020. When the bill was first introduced to Congress in 2013, a lot of groups promoted it by fear mongering: there's so many pet tigers! they could be hidden around every corner! they could escape and attack you! they could come out of nowhere and eat your children!! Tiger King exposed the masses to the idea of "thousands of abused backyard big cats": as a result the messaging around the bill shifted to being welfare-focused, and the law passed in 2022.

The Big Cat Public Safety Act created a registry, and anyone who owned a private cat and wanted to keep it had to join. If they did, they could keep the animal until it passed, as long as they followed certain strictures (no getting more, no public contact, etc). Don’t register and get caught? Cat is seized and major punishment for you. Registering is therefore highly incentivized. That registry closed in June of 2023, and you can now get that registration data via a Freedom of Information Act request.

Guess how many pet big cats were registered in the whole country?

97.

Not tens of thousands. Not thousands. Not even triple digits. 97.

And that isn't even the right number! Ten USDA licensed facilities registered erroneously. That accounts for 55 of 97 animals. Which leaves us with 42 pet big cats, of all species, in the entire country.

Now, I know that not everyone may have registered. There's probably someone living deep in the woods somewhere with their illegal pet cougar, and there's been at least one random person in Texas arrested for trying to sell a cub since the law passed. But - and here's the big thing - even if there are ten times as many hidden cats than people who registered them - that's nowhere near ten thousand animals. Obviously, I had some questions.

Guess what? Turns out, this is because it was never real. That huge number never had data behind it, wasn't likely to be accurate, and the advocacy groups using that statistic to fearmonger and drive their agenda knew it... and didn't see a problem with that.

Allow me to introduce you to an article published last week.

This article is good. (Full disclose, I'm quoted in it). It's comprehensive and fairly written, and they did their due diligence reporting and fact-checking the piece. They talked to a lot of people on all sides of the story.

But thing that really gets me?

Multiple representatives from major advocacy organizations who worked on the Big Cat Publix Safety Act told the reporter that they knew the statistics they were quoting weren't real. And that they don't care. The end justifies the means, the good guys won over the bad guys, that's just how lobbying works after all. They're so blase about it, it makes my stomach hurt. Let me pull some excerpts from the quotes.

"Whatever the true number, nearly everyone in the debate acknowledges a disparity between the actual census and the figures cited by lawmakers. “The 20,000 number is not real,” said Bill Nimmo, founder of Tigers in America. (...) For his part, Nimmo at Tigers in America sees the exaggerated figure as part of the political process. Prior to the passage of the bill, he said, businesses that exhibited and bred big cats juiced the numbers, too. (...) “I’m not justifying the hyperbolic 20,000,” Nimmo said. “In the world of comparing hyperbole, the good guys won this one.”

"Michelle Sinnott, director and counsel for captive animal law enforcement at the PETA Foundation, emphasized that the law accomplished what it was set out to do. (...) Specific numbers are not what really matter, she said: “Whether there’s one big cat in a private home or whether there’s 10,000 big cats in a private home, the underlying problem of industry is still there.”"

I have no problem with a law ending the private ownership of big cats, and with ending cub petting practices. What I do have a problem with is that these organizations purposefully spread disinformation for years in order to push for it. By their own admission, they repeatedly and intentionally promoted false statistics within Congress. For a decade.

No wonder it never made sense. No wonder no matter where I looked, I couldn't figure out how any of these groups got those numbers, why there was never any data to back any of the claims up, why everything I learned seemed to actively contradict it. It was never real. These people decided the truth didn't matter. They knew they had no proof, couldn't verify their shocking numbers... and they decided that was fine, if it achieved the end they wanted.

So members of the public - probably like you, reading this - and legislators who care about big cats and want to see legislation exist to protect them? They got played, got fed false information through a TV show designed to tug at heartstrings, and it got a law through Congress that's causing real problems for ethical captive big cat management. The 20,000 pet cat number was too sexy - too much of a crisis - for anyone to want to look past it and check that the language of the law wouldn't mess things up up for good zoos and sanctuaries. Whoops! At least the "bad guys" lost, right? (The problems are covered somewhat in the article linked, and I'll go into more details in a future post. You can also read my analysis from 2020, linked up top.)

Now, I know. Something something something facts don't matter this much in our post-truth era, stop caring so much, that's just how politics work, etc. I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not.

Laws that will impact the welfare of living animals must be crafted carefully, thoughtfully, and precisely in order to ensure they achieve their goals without accidental negative impacts. We have a duty of care to ensure that. And in this case, the law also impacts reservoir populations for critically endangered species! We can't get those back if we mess them up. So maybe, just maybe, if legislators hadn't been so focused on all those alleged pet cats, the bill could have been written narrowly and precisely.

But the minutiae of regulatory impacts aren't sexy, and tiger abuse and TV shows about terrible people are. We all got misled, and now we're here, and the animals in good facilities are already paying for it.

I don't have a conclusion. I'm just mad. The public deserves to know the truth about animal legislation they're voting for, and I hope we all call on our legislators in the future to be far more critical of the data they get fed.

[theworldgate]

I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.

So, this is Gary Lineker:

He's known for a fair few things over here. He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan. But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things. The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.

The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job). He also has a twitter account. And political opinions. So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France). By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff. It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes. And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations. Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this. On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.". This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".

Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate. But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric. And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect. Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime. But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics. However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem". But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else. And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend. But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts! Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him. Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him. People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit. The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary. And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow. The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel. And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).

[angstflavoured]

A little fiddauthor analysis...

Making this post mostly just to get all of my thoughts out about it regarding how I think it is inherently very toxic on both ends, despite people treating it as more wholesome near the beginning when they were both younger… and the fact that I think it’s very incredibly one-sided. I’m strictly going to be talking about CANON events, not headcanons or speculations or AU’s. If you wanna draw Fiddleford and Ford being cute and hugging and dating, I don’t care, I like a lot of the content for them myself. It isn’t canon to the show and doesn’t affect or harm anybody. That’s what a fandom is and I’m not trying to police anyone, I just think a lot of people misinterpret their relationship and thought it would be fun to talk about it because I find their dynamic really interesting. I’m going to be using a lot of direct quotes and scenes from Ford’s journal, TBOB, and the show, so buckle in baby ! This was supposed to be a quicker and smaller one while I work on my Billford essay, but I had a lot more to say than I thought…

First off, it’s interesting to see how Ford thinks their interaction after so long is going to go. In Journal 3 he says he has “no choice” but to call Fiddleford up to work on the portal because Ford just doesn’t have the smarts to do what he wants to do himself, and he thinks he’s going to have to literally beg Fiddleford to join him. But as we see in the journal and in the show, it hardly takes ANY convincing at all for Fiddleford to drop everything he was doing and leave his wife and kid for months on end to work on a project he knows nothing about. All the info he has he got over a short phone call. It seems like Ford, at this point being so close with Bill and thinking he’s the only one who cares about him, just assumed that most people he used to talk with don’t think about him anymore. He’s had Bill whispering in his ear that he’s the only one who understands him, so it makes sense he doesn’t think Fiddleford will want to do this with him. But from what it looks like, Fiddleford either has been waiting every second for Ford specifically to get back to him, or just has been waiting for any excuse to get the hell away from his family which is… yeesh. Either way, not very healthy regarding his wife and kid. He doesn’t seem to really care all that much about either of them, but more on that later.

Obviously Ford cares about Fiddleford, as soon as he comes down to live with him, Ford hasn’t been so happy in a good while. He missed human connection, despite how good things were going with Bill. Having another person there to talk with was nice. Despite Fiddleford having strange quirks that did irk Ford, he found them endearing and genuinely felt better in his company.

But I think the biggest thing here a lot of people overlook is that Ford only ever refers to Fiddleford as his college buddy in the show, and in the journals as “my assistant.” I’ve seen so many people have Ford call him his partner, but he actually only calls him this like once in the show i think. It’s always my assistant, my research, my theory. Which is funny because Ford didn’t come up with any of this stuff with the portal on his own. Bill was the one that gave him the blueprints. Fiddleford even questions Ford at one point, asking if he had help coming up with them because of how complex they are, and Ford decidedly DOESN’T mention Bill and instead tells him “with hard work, anything is possible.” (Btw he does refer to Bill as his partner multiple times… just sayin.)

The way he talks to and about Fiddleford, Ford is always talking down. He does think that Fiddleford is smart and does think he has a brilliant mind, but he still thinks that he’s below him.

Because Ford has Bill.

And oh my lord, do I not see anyone talk about this. Soooo many comics always depict Fiddleford knowing about Bill existence, but I think the biggest roadblock with their ship and a huge point of contention is that Fiddleford never canonically knows about Ford’s relationship with Bill until after he’s already lost his mind when he’s old. He doesn’t even KNOW that he exists until he’s half sucked through the portal. People ignore this, but it’s so important to their dynamic. Ford doesn’t think that Fiddleford could handle it, and he doesn’t think he necessarily deserves to know. Because Bill is Fords thing. Their relationship is special. Ford is special.

Ford claims he doesn’t tell Fiddleford about Bill because he would throw him in a looney bin, despite their research being so whimsical and ridiculous already. They’re literally building a portal to a different dimension, Fiddleford would’ve believed him. And the way Ford talks about it, you can tell it’s less about Fiddleford thinking he’s crazy and more about something else.

Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?

He doesn’t think Fiddleford could APPRECIATE it. The language he uses, you can tell that Ford knows that Fiddleford would see right through Bill’s facade. And Ford doesn’t want that because he wants to be friends with Bill and he wants to be special, and he’d rather hide Bill and stay in denial than tell his dearest friend, just so he can feel special a little longer.

This is why I think as much as Fiddleford’s romantic feelings for Ford were there, it never ended up going anywhere. Ford would always choose Bill over him. When Fiddleford got him the axolotl pet, Ford quickly threw it out and lied about it to Fiddleford just because Bill told him to. And there’s multiple cases of interactions like this, where Bill will talk down about Fiddleford and Ford will just be like damn… yeah. Here’s a journal excerpt from TBOB around Christmas time. For context, Ford got into a huge fight with a monster and tried to contact Bill to help him, but he didn’t come. And then Bill randomly shows up later when Ford’s at home decorating.

I was almost roasted by Krampus, and where was he? Off inspiring some other scientist? Posing for some tapestry? Were we even partners? He threw the accusation back in my face. “Hey, I’m not the one skipping portal work to carouse with a third-wheel hillbilly with second thoughts about our project!” I started to argue--but he had a point. F has seemed less and less committed to work lately.

Which is INSANE !!! when we see that only a fucking page ago, Fiddleford was explaining how he got in a fight with his wife because he didn’t get her a present for Christmas. After spending multiple weeks and making multiple prototypes for a pair of 6 fingered gloves for Ford.

And if we hop back to Journal 3, there’s a particular interaction with them which is crazy to me. While hiking up a mountain to go to Crash Site Omega, they get into a fight with the Gremloblin, which fucking swoops up Fiddleford into the sky. In Ford’s attempt to get him down, they both end up falling down through the roof of a barn, where Fiddleford gets stuck full of quills and breaks his arm.

Despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant. I was able to treat his physical wounds, but I fear there are mental wounds not as easily remedied. For the past several nights, he has been unable to sleep, apparently still haunted by the Gremloblin’s gaze. More alarming is his Cubic’s Cube. It has sat scrambled, unfixed, on his desk for days. I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive than I realized…

OH. MY. GOD. The way that Ford talks so condescendingly is enough to make any person's blood boil. It’s the same way when Fiddleford gets sucked through the portal, and when Fiddleford gets pulled back, Ford’s first words out of his mouth are “WHAT DID YOU SEE!”

As much as he cared for Fiddleford… he has no regard at all for Fiddlefords VERY VALID feelings about events that would traumatize literally anyone. But he just pats Fiddlefords back and tells him to get used to it because this is just part of the job and he shouldn’t be whining so much. He does nothing to properly comfort him and scoffs it off like “apparently he’s ‘TRAMATIZED’ or something. I’ve been through so much worse and never had a problem, I don’t get what his issue is.” And then ford is SURPRISED AND APPALLED when Fiddleford creates the memory gun.

Which oohhhhh lord, the memory gun. jesus christ. Such a big example of the distrust between them on both sides. Fiddleford literally canonically lied about destroying the gun and then erased Fords memory about it so that he could erase his own memories in secret without him knowing. And also probably fords sometimes! Not completely canon, but like…. Fiddleford did it once, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. And then when they go to the carnival, Fiddleford hands out his fucking card to Ivan (the leader of the society of the blind eye, who was a teen/early 20s at the time) so that he can erase memories for him that he didn’t like.

Biggest thing we can take away from everything regarding Fiddleford’s character, is that he always takes the easy way out. He ran away from his family he obviously didn’t really care for as much as he should’ve because that was easier than talking it out or divorcing. He pushed it aside for later. Bro was literally looking for a fucken Brokeback Mountain situation, but Ford wasn’t giving anything back to him. So instead Fiddleford constantly made a fool of himself doing things for Ford and tripping over himself to show his gratitude when all the while Ford was entirely focused on Bill. and then he just goes around and starts erasing memories, because it’s easier than having to actually deal with things. Which is why I don’t foresee a reality in which Fiddauthor makes sense, in the way they actually end up doing anything together. Because Fiddleford’s too much of a coward to admit his feelings first, and Ford obviously has his sights on someone else.

And here’s the BIGGEST damning thing, like oh my god.

In Journal 3, Ford goes to a fortune teller (which don’t get me fucking started on how judgy he is to her and how much he talks down about her, DESPITE HER BEING LEGIT AND ACTUALLY WARNING HIM). Long story short, she gives Ford a spiel about how someone close to him is deceiving him. She then gives him a mood ring and says “when this is blue, you may pull through. When this is black, you can’t turn back.”

And LO AND BEHOLD!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, when they’re at the carnival and Fiddleford is talking to Ivan and whispering--

Ford. Looks down. To check if the ring is black.

I took one last look down at my hand and was strangely relieved to find that the palm reader’s ring was still blue. I shoved it in my pocket, collected F, and tried to put the whole experience out of my mind.

FORD LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE IDEA OF FIDDLEFORD BETRAYING HIM BEFORE BILL. IN FACT, HE LITERALLY NEVER MENTIONS THINKING IT WAS BILL ONCE.

He talks about how they got into a fight at dinner the night before the portal test because Fiddleford was having second thoughts about it being dangerous, and Ford told him to be there or he would get left behind. He’d do it without him.

And when Fiddleford gets pulled through the portal and quits the project, Ford says gooooddd fucking riddance, I never even needed you bro.

F, you weak-willed hayseed! Go back to your doting family and a life of fear and compromise! I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away. To think I considered him a friend! I know my true friend. It is my Muse.

One of the few times he ever refers to it as partnership btw. Literally only when they break everything off.

And Ford only starts fighting with Bill about everything after it starts directly hurting him. It literally just seems like Ford is less upset about Bill’s plan being evil, and more upset at the fact that he lied to Ford LMAOOOOO he didn’t like the fact that he was disposable and lesser to Bill, despite Ford treating Fiddleford the exact same way.

At the end of all of this… it may seem like I’m really fighting against this ship, but not in the slightest. I LOVEEEE them so much, but in a way where it would be really toxic and not actually end up with anything happening.

Such a biggg theme when it comes to Ford’s character specifically is yearning. He yearns for success and attention and love and acceptance, but he’s constantly never giving other people those things. Which ends in him not receiving any in return. That is obviously until he gets back from dimension hopping and works on being a better person. When he starts towards healing, that’s when he starts receiving what he always wanted.

There’s so much tension between Ford and Fiddleford it's like disgusting, they were so incredibly gay… but, I hate to say it, it was very one-sided. They did have some fun times together and Ford enjoyed his company for quite a bit, but it was nothing like how Fiddleford felt for him. Fiddleford was always thinking about how Ford was feeling and what he was doing, and Ford never really did that for Fiddleford unless he was prompted to. But he was alwayasyayayss thinking about how Bill felt. And he always chose Bill in the end.

I just see so much of all of this get swept under the rug and never addressed, when it's kind of sad because it’s all so interesting and really adds a lot to both of their characters. They were both so morally gray back in their day, and honestly even more so now that they’re older, and its kinda sad to see that all go ignored. I JUST LOVE TOXIC GAYS SM AND THEY WERE SO TOXIC AND I’D LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE EXPLORE THAT MORE. Hopefully maybe this will prompt some people to think about it like this…….. It’s all so very tragic and their relationship was doomed from the start and i loveeeee shit like that. only misery to be had...

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect C.O.D Quotes, since AO3 is down✦

Gaz: I wanna know what exactly your type is. Y/N: I'm not just gonna give you more fodder to throw at me- Gaz: I have an idea of it already, but I want details! Y/N: No! Gaz: Like- König! Would you- Y/N: Of fuckin’ course I wanna fuck König! He’s huge, he could LITERALLY snap me in half and my dad didn’t love me, of course I want him to fuck me! Soap: *does that weird inhale-choke-cough*

— (Dick mention + a woman’s experience of a dude making gross comments. It’s funny I swear-) Fem!medic!Y/N: most of the time, people are pretty nice and sometimes impressed when when I bring up I’m a medical professional. Other times…eh.. Soap: Eh? Y/N: Sometimes you get conspiracy theorists. Soap: Ohhhh… Y/N: Some evangelists, gross dudes. Gaz: Gross dudes? What’s the worst you’ve heard? Ghost, sipping a whiskey: This outta be good. Y/N: Uh, once I told this man hitting on me I was a field doctor? He said, and I quote. “Been awhile since my last check up, mind checking me for ball cancer.” And I- Gaz: WHAT Soap: YOU’RE KIDDING Y/N: I am not. I just- I walked away. Price: Fuckin’ hell. Y/N: It’s fine. He got shot in the dick next mission, ended up with a male doctor. Ghost: Karma at its best.

- Graves: Oh FUCK YOU Y/N: Tsk, oooo…you don’t have enough money for that. Soap: HAHA!

- Soap, drunk: Back Street’s back, alright! Do do do do- Gaz, drunk on Price’ shoulders: Dodooodo- Price: Simon, get your boy. Ghost: *picking Soap up by his belt, carrying him like a bag* Yes sir.

- Recruit: When you gonna stop giving me blue balls? Gaz: Whoa hey!- Y/N: Aight, I got my steel toes on. How bout we make’em black and blue? Recruit: I- Y/N: Shut the fuck up. I’ve already turned you down, get a hint. Word of advice? Rather than shoot for the stars, maybe shoot your shot in your lower bracket, yeah? Recruit: Gaz: Someone get a fire extinguisher, this dudes been burned. Soap: On it. *sprays recruit with fire extinguisher*

- Soap: Nice onesie, does it come in men’s? Gaz, in his pyjamas: I think you cum enough in men for the all of us. Soap: ACK- Ghost: *slides out of the room*

- Ghost: Have you ever considered, just once, using your brain first? Soap: Now why would I do that?

- (Insert random name I HC for Laswell’s wife) Kate, after being in a bad explosion and ending up in this hospital: My wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you rubbing me like that on my chest. Diana: I am your wife. Kate …. Diana: :) Heart rate monitor: BEEPBEEPBEEPBE- Kate Hi. Diana: Hehe, hi. Gaz, in the corner: Oh to be in love. Soap: This is disgusting, why can’t I have this? >:,( Gaz: Cause your type in men is awful. Soap: Hey!

- Y/N: *walks into common room* Hello, I am very upset. I feel a meltdown coming on and you are all buff men, so I would like to request being picked up and held like a baby for a short period of time, please. Soap: Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you? Y/N: Nope. König: ….*slowly approaches and picks Y/N up from under their arms* Y/N, clinging to him like a koala and hiding in his shoulder: Thank you, I appreciate you. König: *awkward back pat*

- König: :) Y/N: Bloopbloopbloopbloop- Horagi: Y/N! Y/N: What? Horagi: Tha-That is our colo-that is a dangerous man! Y/N: He’s not a dangerous man! Horagi: What are y- Y/N: We’re bloopin’! Bloopbloopbloop- König: -w-

- Price: Kid, I need you to- Gaz & Y/N: *dancing like they don’t have jobs to do* Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: That’s what’s up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: I’m in love! Price: AHEM Gaz: Oh shit- Y/N: HEEEYY captaaaaiinn, what’s uuupp ahaha… Price: *sigh*

- (Based on; Me if COD was real. Deadass. Full serious. I am not kidding) Gaz: So have you met the Captain yet? Y/N: No. Gaz: Are you nervous? Y/N: No no, I have a firm belief that they’re just people. Obviously I’ll respect him as a superior but that’s nnnnnnnnwho the hell is that? Y/N: *fucking breaking their neck* Gaz: Oh- Nope. No no, THAT is Captain. Don’t think about it. Y/N: I’m thinking about it. Gaz: That’s not allowed. Y/N: Ive done worse for less, if he asks I’m sucking it, you can’t stop me. Gaz: Jesus Bloody Christ- Y/N: Tell him to call me when he’s on leave. Gaz: Stop-

- König: *walks in* Ghost: ?? Soap: Oh, hey! Gaz: Y’a need somethi- König: *picks up Y/N under his arm while humming, leaving the room* König: I love stealing, I love taking things!~ Ghost: What the f-

- Colonel!König: I’m 42 so, I don’t- Y/N: YOU’RE 42?! Colonel!König: Yeah. Y/N: …it’s okay no one has to know babygirl~ König: NEIN! Nein, don’t call me babygirl!-

- (Based on this awful Gaz outfit I saw on Twitter) MILF!Y/N: *doing paperwork* Gaz: Would you date me? Y/N: Baby we couldn’t even get a drink together. You can’t buy me nothin. Gaz: What do you mean? :( Y/N: Look at your outfit! What are you wearing? Gaz: I think I look pretty fly. Y/N: For who, your mom? Gaz: :((

- Gaz: STOP DATING MY CAPTAIN Y/N: ….you know what, I’m gonna start dating him even harder. Gaz: What’s that supposed to mean? Y/N: You know what it means.

- MILF!Y/N: *shoving apple juice into a cart* They gon’ need nutrition. Laswell: How many kids do you have? MILF!Y/N: Eleven! Laswell: So I’m assuming your kids really like apple juice? MILF!Y/N: No but they looove orange juice but they’ve been bad this week. Laswell: What grade are your kids in? MILF!Y/N: Sixteenth grade. Laswell: PFFT Sixteenth- that’s not even a grade! So your kids graduated college? MILF!Y/N: No they, they- …where are my kids?

- (Her “kids” on the other side of the store) Price: Boys please- Gaz: I AM NOT LOSING! Soap, in a fuckin’ headlock with him: Yes you fuckin’ are!! Ghost: *slipping cookies under his mask, he did not pay for them* König: *looking for a fruity snack* Horagi: *grabbing as many packs of spicy chips as he can* Alejandro: This is a disgrace. *holding up frozen burritos* Rudy: These are worse. *motions to frozen tamales* Alex: Did you know you can use coke as rust remover? Farah: …and you want to drink it??

- Y/N: So. Kyle. Gaz, already afraid: …yes? Y/N: I found some of your old playlists… Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: You an emo? Gaz: I was a SCENE as a teenager, get it right.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James has a huge crush on his labmate, the only question is how long will it take him to ask her out? (Answer: it's longer than you think)

WARNINGS — cancer mentions, patient death from cancer, drugs, alcohol (don't be mistaken this fic is tooth-rotting fluff)

NOTE — Okay this fic has come up from my compulsory need to elaborate on anything Canadian so if you ever wanted to see James at McGill, this fic is most definitely for you! Also I guess it's indirectly mentioned that reader was raised in Quebec, but obviously doesn't have to be "Quebecois" for this to work

Pronounciation — Jian = Chyehn

James chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked up to the Stewart Biological Sciences Building on McGill campus. For some reason, it was so much more intimidating now that he was actually a student. During the tour he had his mother’s reassuring hand on his back, his father’s words of comfort that he would most definitely be accepted when he applied. 

Now that he had made it, he had to prove he belonged, but it could have been worse. His friends at Harvard and the University of Toronto had told him so. He was getting the best of both worlds, a prestigious school and, hopefully, not as much pressure as the rest of them. 

Without loitering any longer, he made his way inside and looked around to find the right lecture hall. It couldn’t possibly be that hard, could it?

After his first semester James had realized he’d made a few mistakes. One was living in a French speaking part of town without knowing a lick of the language, but that one was the easiest to deal with. The others were more in the realm of the amount of sleep he was getting and underestimating how much content the professors could shove down their throats in 14 weeks. 

He was more than happy to return to New Jersey for the holiday break to rest and recuperate before going back to the winter wonderland hell that was Montreal, but this time he was confident he would be more prepared. 

And for the most part, he was. He got enough sleep, partied responsibly (except Fridays, he partied hard then), always submitted his work on time and maintained his good GPA, making up for his poor fall semester. What he didn’t expect, however, was a distraction. 

When you walked into the room James watched you curiously, he thought maybe he’d seen you somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it. Besides, you were much more interesting than watching his sample boil for another five minutes. 

You came and took a seat next to him, taking out your safety goggles and lab notebook from your bag before shoving it under the table. 

“You’re sample’s boiling over,” you said, but James didn’t register you were talking to him at first, still looking at you in a slightly dazed manner before you physically pointed to the beaker, making his eyes go wide as he frantically turned down the heat and removed it. 

“It’s a wonder you passed the lab safely quiz,” you teased and James blushed. 

“Good thing I don’t want to be a chemist.” 

“Oh, and what do you want to be then?” you asked, preparing your own sample for boiling. 

“A doctor,” he shared with a little more confidence. 

“Any specialty in mind or just a doctor,” you said, doing air quotes over the word. 

“I’ve been shadowing some of the researchers in the Life Sciences Research Complex and I think oncology might be a good fit for me.” 

“Yeah, as long as you don’t have to boil cancer cells you should be fine,” you assured him. 

“What about you?” he rolled on the balls of his feet as he continued his experiment. “Or are you all talk?” 

“Pfft, you think I’d be here if I was all talk?” you asked. “No, I want to be a medical researcher.” 

“Maybe you should do some shadowing in the LSRC then.” 

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to my job there.” 

“Your job?” James looked at your wish surprise. “Aren’t you like 18?” 

“Almost,” you smiled. 

“How did you manage to get a job there? They barely let undergraduates in the labs, let alone be responsible for anything.” 

“It’s nothing fancy,” you assured him. “I just do cataloguing for now, but it's a good experience.” 

“Still,” he raised his brows, “you must be like a prodigy or something.” 

“Again, no,” you shook your head. “Just someone who goes after what she wants.” 

There was a comfortable pause where you both took down your distillation set ups and began working on the filtration portion of the experiment. 

“So what’s your name, anyways?” you asked, looking over at him. “Hey, look, clamp it this way,” you demonstrated and he followed your lead, seeing how much more stable the glassware was afterwards. 

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m James.” 

You told him your name and continued your work again in silence.

Chemistry labs quickly became the favourite part of James’ week. 

Ever since that lab, James began to see you in all his classes. On more than a few occasions, he’d had to steal notes from his friends on account of forgetting to pay attention. It became an easy thing to tease him about, so his friends began calling him heart-eyes, because who was he kidding, he had a crush. 

“Get your head out of your ass, heart-eyes, I am not giving you my notes again,” his friend, Carlo, shoved his arm and whispered harshly as he could see him getting distracted. 

“Sorry,” James shook his head and began scribbling down what he had missed, his eyes darting back and forth from the board and back to you. 

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Pierre asked him after class. “Don’t you talk all the time in the lab?” 

“More like I stare at her and she says stuff to make it not awkward,” he cringed at his own actions. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I’m with her I can’t string together a sentence, and– Jesus Christ you should have seen my face last week! Full on red, like I can’t even be subtle about it!” 

“Yikes,” Jian grimaced. 

“It’s bad, I know,” James assured. 

“And this is why we call you heart-eyes,” Carlo patted James on the back. 

“Yeah, say it a little louder, maybe she’ll hear you,” James said sarcastically. 

“Who’ll hear you?” the group of boys heard a voice behind them and all their eyes went wide as they spun around and saw you. 

“No one!” Jian was quick to answer in the least nonchalant way possible, making the rest of the group, especially James, stare daggers at him. 

“It’s not no one,” Carlo attempted to save face. “Just… this girl back in uh New Jersey that James’ got the hots for,” he gained confidence with every word of the sentence before adorning a smug smile on his face and patting James yet again on the back. 

“You’re afraid a girl in New Jersey will hear you?” you looked curiously at James but he just stared blankly at you. “So you call him heart-eyes?” you instead turned your attention to his friends and they nodded. “That’s cute, maybe I’ll call you that too.” 

“Sure,” was all a red faced James could get out before you excused yourself to head over to work. 

Pierre was trying very hard to keep a straight face while you walked away and James slapped both Carlo and Jian upside the head. 

“What the hell was that! Could you not have been more obvious, Jian? And Carlo, a girl back in New Jersey? Now she thinks I’m pining for someone else!” 

“On the plus side, maybe she’ll think all your blushing around her is a circulation issue,” Pierre shrugged. 

“You guys are the worst,” James shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, continuing to walk along the path to one of the libraries. 

“No, we just saved your ass,” Carlo caught up with him. “However terribly, but if we didn’t say anything you would have stared at her with your mouth open like a trout.” 

“Carlo does have a point,” Jian agreed, “At least we bought you a little time to get your act together.” 

James sighed, “You guys have too much faith in me.”

“You said that when I started to teach you French and you’ve come a long way with that,” Pierre said. 

“Yeah, sure I went from saying nothing to being able to say Je m'appelle James et je ne parle pas français.” 

“And what a handy sentence that is when you don’t speak French!” Pierre grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head. 

“Okay, I’ll try and get my act together and ask her out…and learn more French.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Carlo patted his back. “Now let’s go get a drink and relax.” 

“Maybe after we study for our physics midterm?” James nudged his friend and Jian nodded his head in agreement. 

“Fine, I guess if we have to,” Carlo sighed. 

“Not everyone is naturally good at kinematics, Carlo. Take pity on us mere mortals who have to study,” Pierre responded, eliciting a chuckle from his buddies. 

James was quiet as he thought to himself. If he could get a B on this physics test, maybe there was hope for him getting his act together after all.

—

Summer break rolled around faster than James had expected. While Jian went back to Richmond, Pierre over to Quebec City, and Carlo to Chicago, James was left alone in Montreal, working to help pay his tuition for the next year. Being an international student was no joke. 

He would have gone back to New Jersey, but the positions he applied to in Montreal paid more so it wasn’t a hard decision to make. 

His parents would come visit him for some time in July, but for the most part he was alone. 

On late nights, he’d make his way to the McDonald’s in the neighbourhood, not knowing enough French to go anywhere else nearby. At least there, most of them spoke enough English to take his order, and if not it was really easy to point to the menu. 

“It’s already done?” he asked. 

“Give us some credit, hein. We knew you were coming, we had it ready.” 

James chuckled and handed him the money for the order, exchanging it for the bag which he took to a table and sat down. 

As he was pulling out his fries from his bag he heard the chime of the door and looked up curiously to see who was coming at this time of night. 

He stopped what he was doing when he recognized you, watching as you dug through your purse and spoke to the cashier in French. You both laughed about something James couldn’t quite catch and a little while later, after you had paid they handed you a bag and an ice cream cone when James heard you say something about ‘deux cuillères’ taking the utensils they gave you and turing straight towards James’ table, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. 

“I thought you lived in New Jersey,” you said. 

James was still stunned that you had noticed him and couldn’t find the words to speak. 

“Hey, heart-eyes?” you waved your hand in front of his face. “You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, distracting himself by pulling out his burger from his bag. 

“So why aren’t you in Jersey?” you asked. 

“Work. I got a job here, it paid better.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully while eating some of your fries. “And all your friends?” 

“Back with their families, unfortunately for me,” he nodded. “W-What about you?” 

“Oh, I live here,” you shrugged. “In this neighbourhood actually.” 

“You live here?” he asked. 

“That’s what I said,” you nodded. 

“And so that’s how you know French?” 

“Every kid in Quebec learns French, it’s kind of a non-negotiable,” you shared. “I gather that’s why you’re eating here.” 

“Yeah, Pierre didn’t manage to teach me enough before he left,” he sighed and started to eat his meal. 

“I could teach you if you want. I’m taking a little break this summer so I have some spare time,” you offered. 

“Oh, I don’t want to-,” 

“James, you’re gonna have a shitty summer if you don’t say yes.”

He couldn’t argue with that, it would be nice to communicate more with the people who lived around him. 

“Okay, sure, but I’m warning you, I’m a terrible student.” 

“I used to tutor one of my siblings, trust me it can’t be worse than that,” you laughed. 

You chatted a little more, finishing your meals but not before you handed James a spoon. 

“So this is cuillère then?” he asked. “I-I overheard you talking to Jean.” 

“Yeah, your pronunciation isn’t bad either,” you nodded. “Here.” 

You pushed the ice cream cone between you and began to eat it with the spoon. James had a bit of a sweet tooth and wouldn’t be one to refuse dessert so he began to share the ice cream cone with you. 

“So, are you missing your girl in New Jersey?” you asked and James cursed internally, trying to come up with a lie to tell you. 

“Um, no not really,” he shook his head. “I don’t think we would have worked out anyways.” 

“Oh, so are your friends still calling you heart-eyes?” 

He nodded his head, thinking it was better not to say anything in case he gave himself away. 

“It’s good that you recognized you wouldn’t work out before you asked her out,” you said, “Couple guys wanted to go on dates with me this year, but just didn’t seem like the right fit. Plus, I don’t really think I’m looking for anything like that right now.”

James nodded his head again, silently eating the ice cream. 

“Ever been in love, James?” you asked. 

“That’s a really loaded question to ask someone you cornered in a McDonald’s at 11 P.M.” 

You ignored his response and continued, 

“I haven’t, it seems like such a big thing, how would you even know if it was love?” 

James looked up at the ceiling, silently asking God to not let him say something stupid, 

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first.” 

“So you have been in love,” you confirmed and he shrugged his shoulders. 

“I…I don’t know. Maybe I have.” 

“That’s not a very straightforward answer.” 

“Then maybe I haven’t. I feel like if it was love, you’d figure it out, eventually.” 

You pursed your lips and nodded your head. 

“I hope I get to fall in love,” you smiled softly to yourself. “Seems nice.” 

“Yeah,” James agreed. “It does.” 

—

A few years later… 

“So how did it go?” Jian asked, as they sat around James’ small living room. 

“It…could have been better,” James sucked in some air through his teeth, recalling a recent memory from earlier that afternoon. 

“What the fuck James! You scared the shit out of me! I could have broken the hemocytometer, do you know how much that shit costs?!” 

“Sorry!” James quickly apologized and dropped his books down on the nearest surface to help you clean up, making you look up again at him with disdain. 

“In the BSC? Really? Now we have to resterilize and all the specimens I have in there are as good as compromised.” 

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath, he was usually so much better in the lab, but the second he was with you he became a bumbling mess. “I-I’ll take care of the BSC, I’m so sorry.” 

You sighed and removed your gloves, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“It’s not just boiling water we’re dealing with anymore, James,” you said a little more calmly than before. “You’ve gotta be more careful, okay? I’m not losing my job over this.” 

James nodded his head and went to grab the things to sterilize the biological safety cabinet and grab the new specimen from the fridge. So much for trying to get a job at LSRC to impress you. 

“I was not built to be a researcher,” James shook his head. 

“I mean, it’s not that big of a screw up, you fixed it eventually, didn’t you?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah, but not until after a thorough amount of embarrassment.” 

“I thought girls found clumsy guys endearing,” Carlo commented. 

“Not when the girl is determined to become the leading medical researcher on the continent,” James sighed. “Maybe taking this job was a bad idea. From what I can see she hasn’t even changed her opinion on dating, she hasn’t been with anyone these past three years.” 

“Do you hear that?” Carlo removed his feet from the coffee table and placed them on the ground. “You’ve been in love with her for three years and haven’t done anything about it.” 

“Who said I was in love with her? And sure, maybe I haven’t made a move, but I learnt French!” James tried to defend himself, pointing to Pierre. 

“That’s not as good of a comeback as you think it is,” Pierre shook his head. 

“I know,” James hung his head low and sat on the couch between Pierre and Jian. “We’re gonna graduate in a year and she’s not gonna know I’m in love with her.” 

“So you are in love with her?” Jian looked over at his friend sympathetically. 

James leaned back and used the heels of his palms to cover his eyes. 

“He’s gonna have a meltdown, don’t ask him that,” Pierre shook his head. 

“God, I do love her!” he exclaimed like he was just finding it out for the first time himself. 

“What did I say,” Pierre sighed. 

“Can I make it stop?” James looked over at his friends who all shrugged. “I am so screwed.” 

“This time, I think we agree with you,” Carlo took a sip of his drink. “Good luck, man.” 

James squeezed his eyes shut, he would definitely need it. 

—

The year passed to graduation and James was still sitting on his feelings. It was much too late now to say anything. You’d already been accepted to a graduate program through your work with the LSRC and James had passed his MCAT with flying colours and was on his way to medical school at Columbia. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was going to miss Montreal, the city had grown on him during his time there and a part of him wished he could stay. 

His friends were also ready for the next stages in their studies, all going to different places across the continent to get their other degrees, with, of course, the promise to stay in touch. 

James didn’t know what the next little bit of his life had in store for him, but he hoped regardless of where he ended up, maybe he’d be able to make up for his missed opportunities. 

The years of medical school, once started, passed faster than James expected them to, and by the end of it, much to his own surprise, he’d also gotten married. 

You were almost all but forgotten in the back of his mind, but time continued to play its games. 

Medical school turned into a specialization in oncology, and a divorce. Then residency and a marriage. Then a second divorce. Then another marriage and more recently a position at a hospital in his hometown, on the board and a well respected oncologist and a few new friends…and a third divorce. 

“House, I’m not asking you to let them all sleep in your apartment, it’s just a dinner for one night, we’ll be out and about for the rest of the time that they’re here,” James sighed. 

“Can’t you just cancel?” House asked. “Divorce seems like a pretty good reason to get out of a reunion.” 

“See, the thing is, I’d rather not be miserable and see my friends instead, and they bought their tickets months ago. Please, House, I’ll do the dishes for a week.” 

“A month,” House said. 

“Two weeks,” James negotiated and House nodded, so they shook on it. 

“Good, now that I’ve done you a favour, you can do me one,” House smiled, but the kind of smile that was conniving, like he had something up his sleeve all along. 

“I paid you in chores for my favour, who says I owe you anything?” 

“Unless you want me to call your friends and cancel for you, you’ll do it,” House continued to walk the hospital’s hallways hobbling with his cane. 

“What is it?” James sighed, catching up with him. 

“We have a patient and he doesn’t speak very good English, but he does speak French. You went to McGill didn’t you? Must have picked up some of the love language.” 

“Unfortunately for me in this case, I did,” he nodded. 

“Perfect, come with me now,” House motioned with his head to the patient’s room and James trailed behind him. 

When he entered the room, House motioned for him to begin speaking. James hadn’t spoken a lot of French since his undergrad so he was definitely rusty, but he supposed it was better than nothing and began to explain that he would be helping with the translation.

“Erm, Bonjour, je suis Dr. Wilson, je vais aider Dr. House avec la traduction.” 

The man looked at James strangely before saying. 

“You’re an anglophone, but you speak French like you’re Quebecois.” 

“I um did my undergraduate in Montreal, I learnt how to speak there,” James responded back in French. 

“Hmm.” 

James could tell this wasn’t going to be fun. Some of the French held quite a bit of hate towards Quebec, who knew why, but his accent definitely wasn’t going to help him in this situation. 

House got James to ask some routine medical history questions and a few things about his symptoms all the while James had to filter out all the insults that were coming his way with regards to his “poor use of language” and “unintelligible accent”. 

When he could finally leave the room, James let out a string of French curses under his breath, still thinking in the other language. 

“House, why can’t you just get a proper translator?” he asked. “I’m terrible at this.” 

“Cuddy said something about making a big purchase recently and being currently unable to do so, especially since you put that you speak French in your resume. Bet you’re regretting that one now.” 

“Yeah,” James nodded his head. “Big time.” 

They began to walk towards the elevator to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when James decided to inquire more about Cuddy’s big purchase. 

“Oh, she said something about money this, medical research that,” House shook his head, “You know I stopped listening the second she wouldn’t give me what I wanted.” 

“She hired a medical researcher,” James said aloud, chewing on the words, “I wonder who she-,” 

His train of thought was cut off when he saw, near the elevator, a face he hadn’t seen since graduation day at McGill. 

Quickly, unable to think of anything else to do, he ran into the administrative area and hid crouched down behind a photocopier. 

House watched his friend curiously before walking over towards him and leaning against the copier asked him if he’d gone insane. 

“No, I just, um, remembered I needed to copy some patient files,” he lied. 

“You don’t have any with you,” House said. 

“I faxed them from my office,” he lied again. 

“I think I need to go get Foreman, clearly you’re having a neurological breakdown,” House said. 

“Can you just stop making it obvious I’m here?!” James exclaimed in a whisper. 

Unfortunately for him, as you were walking past, his harsh whisper made his location obvious, causing you to look down and see his familiar face. 

“Oh my God, heart-eyes, is that you?” you asked with a smile and James pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded. “What are you doing down there?” 

James became speechless and suddenly he was an eighteen-year-old back in his chemistry lab. 

“He’s checking to see if we need more toner,” House said, lying for his friend, but James knew that was all he would get out of him. “Well, that’s my cue to leave, you guys have fun.” 

You reached down and offered James a hand, helping him back into a standing position. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” you commented. “Like since we were-,” 

“22,” James filled in and you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you bit your lip before asking him how he had been. 

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I-I’m assuming you’re the medical researcher Cuddy hired?” 

“That would be correct,” you smiled. 

“Why did you choose to work here? I thought you were some big hotshot in Canada?” 

“I am a big hotshot, which is why I wanted to come to a teaching hospital. I thought maybe it would give more opportunities to teach other people what I know. It’s a win-win. I get to do what I want to and the hospital gets grant money from my research,” you explained. “It looks like you got where you wanted to be too, Mr. Oncologist.” 

“Actually it’s Dr. Oncologist,” he joked and you laughed, making his cheeks go red after hearing the sound.

“I missed having you around, James. We should catch up sometime,” you suggested. 

“Yeah sure,” he nodded. “I-I’d love that.” 

You excused yourself, needing to go introduce yourself to a class of medical students, waving goodbye to James, leaving him stuck in his tracks for a few moments before he could gather his senses again and head downstairs for lunch. 

—

“We could have rescheduled if this was too much, man,” Carlo watched James as he brought a large roast to the table for them to eat. 

“See? What did I tell you,” House rolled his eyes and James gave him a disapproving stare. 

“No, I wanted you guys to come, we’ve been planning this for months. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of it,” he assured his friends. “Plus, we know how hard it is to nail down Pierre, I swear you are always travelling. Every time we talk you’re in a different country.” 

“That’s the life of a parasitologist,” he shrugged and helped James by beginning to cut the roast. 

“And Jian, how’s the wife and kids?” 

“They’re good,” Jian smiled. “Mei started first grade in September. Becky and I are both up for promotions at the hospital, so I can’t really complain. Although I think Carlo can.” 

“Seriously it’s not that big of a deal,” Carlo groaned, “Sure yeah, pharmaceuticals are more flashy than biophysics, but that doesn’t mean that my research wasn’t better.” 

“Well if it was better why did William get the award?” James asked and Carlo just flipped him the bird. 

“Didn’t we go to school with him?” Pierre asked. 

“We did?” James raised a brow. 

“Yeah, for a year, from Toronto, huge stoner. Hated being there and did literally no work, but still managed to get honours,” Jian explained. 

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” House commented and James rolled his eyes. 

Just as they continued to dish out dinner, House’s pager went off and he sighed, excusing himself from the table while practically threatening James to leave him some food. 

When House left, James’ friends saw their opening and began their personal line of questioning. 

“Hey, James, are you really okay?” Jian asked. 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” James asked in return. 

“You’re getting a divorce,” Pierre said. “Seems like a pretty good reason to not be okay.” 

James shook his head, 

“Yeah sure, it’s a shitty situation,” he admitted. “Did I imagine myself at this point in my life with three failed marriages? No, definitely not. Can I do anything to change it? Also no, and right now I really wouldn’t want to change it.” 

“Can we ask what happened?” Carlo queried. 

“She cheated on me, then left me,” James said simply. 

“Forgive me,” Pierre said. “But you seemed a lot more upset when we talked over the phone last week. What changed?” 

James looked down at his plate and cut into his roast, thinking about what Pierre had said. It was true, even earlier today he was sulking about, that was until he ran into you. 

“I swear,” James started, “if you guys make a big deal about this I will murder you all,” he used his knife to point at all of them and they nodded, swearing their silence. “I’ve got heart-eyes again.” 

“You met someone new?” Jian asked and Carlo shook his head. 

“No, he re-met someone old. Tell me, did your hospital recently hire a medical researcher?” 

James nodded his head and the table was about to erupt into a loud chorus of comments when James gave them a look and they all restrained themselves. 

“James, I’m being dead serious when I say this, but you should have married her,” Pierre insisted. “I never saw you look at anyone else the way you looked at her.” 

“Probably explains the three divorces then, doesn’t it? I was still in love with her the whole time,” James sighed. “It’s going to come up eventually, seems like a pretty big indicator that I’m not good at relationships.” 

“Who knows, maybe she won’t care,” Jian offered. 

“What was it like when you saw her again?” Carlo asked, looking for any opportunity to tease his friend. 

“How do you think it was? I could barely talk, I was a nervous wreck, and blushing like crazy,” he shook his head at the thought of it. “I could literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I feel like a middle school girl every time I’m near her.”

“Who knows, maybe she still thinks you have circulation issues,” Jian shrugged and the table laughed. 

“What I would give to stay here and watch this play out,” Carlo sighed and leaned back in his seat. 

“Knowing James, you’d have to be here for ten years before he made a move on her,” Pierre raised a brow and James threw a piece of potato at him. 

“If you ever do get the guts to ask her out, call us. We’ve made bets on this,” Carlo added. 

“Real comforting, guys,” James ate a bite of the roast. “I thought this was supposed to be my pity party.” 

“Not anymore,” Jian shook his head. “You’ve got heart-eyes.” 

This time around, James thought maybe he didn’t mind the nickname as much as he used to. 

—

“I would think they’d get you your own office at this point,” James commented as he entered his office, seeing you sitting at his desk, eating a pre-packed lunch. 

“Beats me,” you shrugged and continued to eat. 

“So you’ve decided that invading my office is your next best bet?” 

“Oh hush,” you waved him off with your fork. 

“Well, excuse me for wanting to come to a safe place after being verbally assaulted by House’s patient,” he sat on the opposite side of the desk and leaned back in the chair. 

“Verbally assaulted?” you asked. “By a patient who isn’t even your own?” 

“He doesn’t like the way I speak French,” James rolled his eyes. “I’m translating while they’re treating him since the department used all its money hiring you.” 

“What can I say, hotshots cost a lot of money.” 

“You know, you could do the translation, probably much better than I can,” he noted. 

“I could, but you probably need the practice more than I do, chèri,” you scrunched your nose in a cute mocking way and James could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks yet again. “You still keeping up with that posse of yours?” you asked, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, they all flew in to visit a few days ago, we’re gonna go out tonight,” he said. “Do you…maybe want to join us?” he suggested. 

“I don’t have plans, as long as they’re okay with it I’d love to come,” you smiled. 

“Oh trust me, they will definitely be okay with it.” 

—

Later that night, James was drinking deeply from his glass while he watched his friends stare blankly ahead at you. If he looked anything like they did all those times his words were caught in his throat, then he hoped to spontaneously combust right then and there. 

“Heart-eyes, I thought you said they were okay with me coming?” you leaned over and whispered to him. 

James put down his glass and nodded his head. 

“They are okay with it, right?” 

Snapping out of their daze, the three men nodded their heads and finally began professing assurances that everything was fine. 

“It’s just… you said James invited you?” Jian asked with furrowed bows. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He mentioned you guys were in town and getting together tonight and asked me if I wanted to join.” 

James bit down on his tongue trying not to say anything, but also gave his friends a look to shut up before they gave anything away. He knew what was running through their minds, they were wondering how the hell he’d gotten the guts to ask you to come, but there was one fundamental difference between tonight and any other time he could have possibly asked you. This wasn’t a date, therefore, there was no pressure. 

“Maybe you could tell them what you’ve been up to since they last saw you?” James suggested. 

“Oh, um, well, I got my master’s degree and doctorate at McGill, both for research in cancer biology-,” 

“Cancer biology?” Pierre interrupted. “I don’t remember you mentioning you were interested in that.” 

“I-I wasn’t initially,” you admitted. “Just after spending more time in the LSRC and a few other irrelevant things I decided it was the best fit for me to focus on.” 

“You and heart-eyes make a pretty good pair then,” Carlo raised his eyebrows suggestively and took a sip of his drink. 

“I guess we do,” you chuckled. “As long as he leaves the research to me. We all know what he’s like in the lab.” 

“I resent that,” James protested only before saying, “but I do deserve it.” 

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t had a medical malpractice suit,” Pierre added. 

You asked the boys about where their various careers had taken them and how they were each doing. The conversation stayed pretty normal until the topic changed to relationships, starting with Jian’s wife and family back in Vancouver and Pierre’s husband who was currently in Australia doing research on some massive insect. 

“What about you Carlo?” you asked. “Anyone special in your life?” 

“Nah,” he waved his hand. 

“What about the mom of the kid who pet sits for you?” Jian asked. 

“That kid charges me per animal, per size. If I were to date his mom he’d probably charge me for dating her too, and I don’t think I can afford his price,” he shook his head and the table laughed. 

“James, you’ve been quiet,” you said. “Nothing to share?” 

James nervously took a sip of his drink and looked over at his friends for help. 

“James hasn’t had the best luck in love,” Pierre settled on. 

“Oh, haven’t found anybody, that’s not a big deal,” you assured him. “I haven’t either.” 

“Well,” Carlo said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not exactly that he hasn’t found anybody.” 

“So there’s someone-?” 

“I’m divorced,” James blurted. “Three times. Or soon to be three anyway.” 

“Oh,” you paused and tried to think of the right thing to say, but for the moment settled on nothing while Pierre changed the subject. 

After the visit was over, James offered to walk you to your car and you accepted. The walk started off in silence, but you decided to break it. 

“You know, I hope you find the right person eventually,” you said. “It’s unfortunate things didn’t work out three times.” 

“Yeah,” James nodded in agreement. “I-um, do you ever think about that conversation we had, in the McDonald’s by my apartment?” 

“Sometimes I do,” you admitted. 

“Looking back on that, I wonder if we ever really loved each other. If we did this probably wouldn’t have happened. We would have fixed things, worked on ourselves instead of just…giving up.” 

“So I guess you still haven’t fallen in love yet?” you asked, but he stayed silent. “Whoever it is, I’m sure things will find a way to work out for you.”

“The moment may have passed on that,” he said with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking down at the ground. 

“You never know, James. Sometimes life has a funny way of surprising you.” 

—

James watched as his colleagues and a few of the students from the university left the lecture hall while he continued to sit in his seat, watching you walk up towards him. 

“Don’t you have patients or something?” you asked. “You’re at all of my lectures.” 

“Doesn’t it seem appropriate for an oncologist to attend a cancer biology lecture?” he asked as you sat down next to him. 

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “Doesn’t explain why you weren’t taking notes though.” 

James looked down at his empty hands and cursed a little internally. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I don’t mind the staring, it reminds me of school.” 

“You noticed?” he asked. 

“You weren’t very subtle,” you chuckled. 

“Yeah, not one of my strong suits,” he blushed, embarrassed. 

“Do you wanna go grab lunch before your break is over?” you asked and James nodded, standing up and offering you a hand to get out of your seat. 

You went to the cafeteria, running into his friend House who managed to get his food paid for by James, yet again, before leaving to go back up to his office and work on another differential diagnosis with his employees. 

“Did all the guys get back home safe after their trip?” you asked, digging into your food. 

“Carlo and Jian are back home, Pierre went to go be with Ollie in Australia.”

“It must be hard not living near them.” 

James sighed and nodded his head. “It’s a balance. When they’re being annoying, it’s great that they don’t live here and when they’re not, it sucks.” 

“Spoken like a true friend,” you chuckled. 

“What about you? Do you still keep in touch with people from school? During any of your degrees?” 

“Not really,” you shook your head. “After my undergrad I became so laser focused on my school I didn’t pay attention to relationships that much outside of my family. Starting to regret it a bit now.” 

“Kind of hard to have a good conversation with cancer cells,” James said sarcastically and you shook your head. “Do you like it in New Jersey so far?” 

“Not as much as back home,” you admitted, “but it is nice to have a friend here.”

“Yeah, Jersey is…an acquired taste,” he settled on, making you laugh, but your laughter was cut off by the sound of his pager, and he looked down to see what the message was before quickly standing up. “Sorry, I have to-,” 

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I’ll pack up your food and bring it to your office.” 

“Thanks,” he nodded and you waved goodbye as he ran off out of the cafeteria and to the oncology floor to go help one of his patients. 

—

James didn’t find himself walking around the campus often, but when he did it was usually because he had to clear his head. With everything that was going on in his life, in addition to the circumstances of this case, he was taking it harder than normal. 

He had left his coat in his office as the hot New Jersey sun was already beating down, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes following his feet as he took his steps forward. 

He didn’t notice you sitting on a bench as he was passing by. Curious as to his state, you stood up and went to meet up with him. 

“Hey James, are you okay?” 

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts almost instantly. He stopped to look up at you, seeing the concern reflecting in your eyes. 

He took his hands out of his pockets and motioned for you to walk with him. 

“I lost a patient today,” he explained. “He was 11.” 

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry,” you said softly. 

“In med school you learn pretty quickly if you don’t find a way to deal with what you face every day the result is never good,” he said and you noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek, “but it was just too sunny outside. How could it be sunny on a day like this?” 

You didn’t say anything initially, only intertwining your hand with his and giving it a light squeeze which he returned. 

“You know, I think it’s probably okay, every once in a while, to let yourself mourn your patients. Just like everyone else. You have a uniquely difficult job, James, and no one would hold it against you if you need a minute to adjust.” 

James stopped walking and you followed his lead, only to have him let go of your hand and pull you into a tight hug. You easily wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms were around your waist. 

“You’re a good doctor, James,” you mumbled. “I know, even if you don’t quite believe it right now, you did everything you could to help that young boy and make him more comfortable.” 

You could feel him nod his head, clearly not trusting himself to say anything at the moment. 

Neither of you wanted to let go, but you knew that you both had work to get back to. James had other patients he was responsible for and you had some work to do in one of the hospital labs. 

So silently, hand in hand, you accompanied each other back to the hospital, grateful for each other’s company. 

—

“I swear, if I stay there any longer I’m going to go mad,” James whispered to you under his breath as you walked along the halls of the hospital with him to help him run some tests for a few patients. 

“What was it this time?” you asked, huddling in closer, waiting for him to spill the beans on why living with his best friend was becoming unbearable. 

“He keeps pranking me,” he began to explain and you could see how frustrated he was just by his hand movements. “Last night he thought of the genius idea to put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping and-,” James stopped himself, realizing he’d divulged too much, just as your eyes went wide. 

“Oh my God you didn’t wet the bed did you?” you asked in a chuckle and James quickly covered your mouth saying, 

“Shh! The whole hospital doesn’t need to hear you!” 

You couldn’t hold in your laugh, muffled by James’ hand over your mouth and his cheeks were a bright cherry red. 

Eventually you pulled his hand away and said, 

“You definitely need to get out of there. That’s criminal.” 

“Exactly what I’m saying,” James agreed. 

“Hey, why don’t you come over to my place tonight?” you suggested. “We can watch a movie or something together.” 

“That sounds like exactly what I need right now,” he nodded his head. “What time?” 

“Come over at eight, it’ll give me some time to get snacks and get ready.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he held out his hand and you took it shaking it firmly. 

Later that evening while James was getting ready, House watched him curiously. 

“I still don’t believe that you blowdry your hair,” he said loudly over the sound of the appliance. 

“Believe it or not, I do,” James responded. 

“It just seems so pointless, your hair is messy anyways,” he crossed his arms and James gave him a look. 

“My hair looks fine, yours on the other hand could use a trim and about a billion other things,” James retorted.

“So, is this a date?” House asked, changing the topic. 

“No, it’s not a date,” James shook his head. “It’s an opportunity for me to get away from your insanity.” 

“Are you sure it’s not a date?” he asked. 

“What makes you think it's a date?” he finally gave in and turned around to face his friend, turning off the blow dryer. 

“Well if you asked her if you could come over, probably not a date, but if she offered…” he shrugged his shoulders. 

James shook his head, he didn’t want to allow himself to believe it was true, because if it was, he’d probably overthink things and make a fool of himself. 

“It’s not a date,” he reiterated and House stopped pressing, seeing as his friend would not be reasoned with. 

James finished fixing his hair and grabbed his keys and a coat before stepping out of the door. 

It didn’t take him long to drive to your house and when he knocked at the door he heard shuffling inside before the lock clicked and you opened it. 

“Hey! You got the dress code memo,” you joked, pointing to his McGill sweater and then back at yours. 

“I thought you might like a blast from the past,” he smiled and you invited him inside. 

As he entered he noticed the array of pillows on the couch, blankets draped over arm chairs, and books piled on every surface possible. To top it off, the house was currently only lit by lamps allowing a warm orange hue to fall over the space. It made James’ shoulders relax and he could even feel his nervous heart rate slow. 

“Do you like it?” you asked. “I am by no means an interior decorator, but I tried to make it feel cozy so it’s nice to come back to after long days at work.” 

“I do like it,” James nodded. “A lot. It feels like a home.” 

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I was going for,” you smiled. “You’re the first guest I’ve had here, you know?” 

“Really? No fancy dinner parties with the hospital board?” 

“No, not yet,” you chuckled. “Unfortunately, this guy in the oncology department keeps taking up all my time.”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch. 

“But don’t worry, I don’t mind.” 

After he took off his coat, you both sat down next to each other, James extending his hand along the back of the couch and you naturally sat right up next to him, leaning forward to grab the remote and turn on the movie. 

“What did you pick?” James asked. 

“Just some random horror movie,” you said. “I heard it’s really cheesy.” 

“We’ll see about that,” James raised his brows and grabbed the popcorn from the table, putting it in between you both. 

You pressed play once you were both settled and tossed the remote to the side of the couch, curling your legs up and waiting in anticipation for the movie to begin.

It didn’t take long for the horror plot to begin, jumping right into the satanic murders and supernatural deaths. Just as you had predicted, it was cheesy, but that didn’t stop you from being startled whenever something popped up unexpectedly on the screen. 

Both of you were lulled into a false sense of security during what seemed like a quiet part of the movie, then, all of a sudden, the killer jumped into the frame with a loud change in the soundtrack, causing you to shriek and move towards James, also feeling him jump slightly from being startled. 

You both looked up at each other and laughed at the ridiculousness of your collective fright. 

“You’re supposed to be the calm one,” you elbowed him. 

“I know it just-Jesus!” James found himself inadvertently closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you as if it would give him some protection from what was on the screen. 

You laughed again and leaned closer into his side, patting his leg to assure him it was safe to open his eyes again. 

“You must enjoy torturing me, that’s the only explanation for this,” James looked over at you and you shook your head. 

“Come on, heart-eyes, you think that lowly of me?” 

James couldn’t stop the smile that creeped past his lips, “No, of course not.” 

“Good, that means I still have the upper hand,” you moved your head to look back at the TV, but not before James tickled you in retaliation for your words. 

It took a moment, but you eventually surrendered and moved your focus back to the movie, still feeling a little warm from your laughter. 

You grabbed some of the other candies and snacks from the table, holding a gummy bear up for James to try and he did without so much as a second thought. 

“Still have a sweet tooth I see,” you offered him a different candy which he ate again and nodded. 

“You don’t want to know how many cavities I’ve had.” 

“Here,” you handed him a wrapped treat. “This one’s special from home.” 

“Maple candies,” he smiled. “They don’t make ‘em like they do in Montreal.” 

“They were your favourite, right?” you asked. 

James looked over at you again curiously, “You remembered that?” 

“Of course I did,” you shrugged. “Oh wait, look,” you pointed to the TV before grimacing and covering your eyes, but still peeking through your fingers. “Ew!” 

James just smiled at you, finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss you, the thought bringing a warm sensation to his stomach. 

He settled instead on doing what he’d been doing forever: staring at you with heart-eyes. 

—

James tried to fight a yawn as he grabbed one of the many books on the shelves in his office, taking it to his couch and sitting down next to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, James,” you told him. “You probably have to be back tomorrow morning, you should go home and rest.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “You look in here for that article I was telling you about and I’ll start proofreading.” 

There were many papers and files strewn around the couch, you couldn’t remember when you first came in, but James never seemed to mind when you worked in his office instead of your own. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I feel like I brought a tornado in here.” 

James looked up from your paper and nodded his head. 

“Now hush and let me read.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, opening the medical journal he had handed you, flipping through the contents until you found the article title he had mentioned. 

James had a pen in his hand, scribbling down annotations on the side, correcting a few typos and grammatical errors. 

For the most part, he was able to follow along, but at one point, the words became so incoherent he tapped you to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. 

“What does this say here?” he asked. “I-I don’t know if my eyes just stopped working, but what does stirring in sugar and eggs have to do with this trial treatment?” 

“Oh my God,” you grabbed the paper and looked at it closer. “I must have accidentally copied some of my mom’s cookie recipe on here before changing documents. What in the world is going on with me?” 

Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in or some other things James couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he felt himself letting out a chuckle that grew a little longer, and longer until it was a full blown laugh. 

It was an honest mistake, and arguably not that funny, but you’d be hard pressed to convince him of that in that moment, and instead, seeing the silliness of the situation, you joined in.

Eventually, when the laughter died down, you and James both leaning far back against the couch, he turned to you and apologized. 

“I’m sorry, I should probably read this when I have a bit more sanity.” 

“Don’t be,” you patted his leg. “I can always use a good laugh.” 

With your heads still turned to face each other, you suggested to pause the work and resume it another time, to which James agreed. 

You both continued to sit there in silence, looking over at each other and James caught a glimmer of something in your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure it was still there. It was a soft look, a little dazed, like you were happily daydreaming about something far off. It took him a moment to realize it, since he had been the one giving that look, he’d never really had a chance to see it for himself. 

You had heart-eyes. 

And more importantly, you had them while you were looking at James. 

With a sudden boost of courage, fuelled by lowered inhibitions, he started by asking, 

“Have I ever told you why my friends call me heart-eyes?” 

You tilted your head a little, following his lead and sitting up straight. 

“Wasn’t it because of that girl you had a crush on that was from here?” 

James opened his mouth and then shut it, shaking his head. 

“There was never a girl from Jersey,” he admitted. 

“Why would they say it was a girl from Jersey if there was…” as you said the sentence you slowed down, the realization dawning on you. 

“All the staring makes a bit more sense now?” he asked. 

You blinked a few times, “I just thought you were really awkward,” you said. 

“I was, but if the staring didn’t give it away the blushing really should have done it,” he chuckled. 

“I thought you had a circulation issue!” you exclaimed and James burst out laughing, of course you did. “God, James, why didn’t you say anything?” 

James shook his head, “I could barely string out a coherent sentence when I was around you. Makes it a little hard to say anything.” 

“Makes me wish I had said something,” you said, feeling your own cheeks heat up at the admission. 

“Y-You would’ve said something?” 

Now it was James’ turn to be surprised. 

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first. That’s what you said to me, but that eventually, if it was love, I’d know it.” 

You reached out and held James’ hands in your own. 

“I should have said something. I could have said something. We could have had so much more-,” 

“James,” you whispered, interrupting him and he stopped. “Shut up and kiss me.” 

James wasn’t going to waste another second, removing his hands from your to instead gently hold your face, bringing you closer to him so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since he was 18 years old. 

The dim light of his desk lamp, the papers crumpled beneath and around you, the way you moved closer and slid into his lap, his hands now on your hips and your fingers snaking through his hair, it all melted into one and if you let yourselves imagine, just a bit, the lamp became a light in the library; the papers became unfinished homework assignments and lab write-ups, and you hadn’t missed a second of the time you could have spent together. 

Your kisses soon turned slow and repetitive and neither of you wanted to pull away, living in the moment like it was your last. 

“When…did you realize…you loved me?” you asked between kisses, moving away from his mouth, instead letting your lips find their way across his jaw and up to his temple. 

“Our last year of school,” he paused your kisses so he could kiss you properly again. “Carlo said something and-,” he shook his head and sighed. “I realized I was going to leave without you ever knowing how I felt and even though eventually I thought maybe I’d stopped loving you and started to love other people…I just kept trying to fill that space that only you fit in.” 

“First year of my master’s for me,” you rested your forehead against his. “Suddenly you weren’t there anymore and I really wished that wasn’t the case.” 

He tilted his head up to meet you in another kiss that was far too easy to melt into. Neither of you had any complaints and you knew you’d never get tired looking into his heart-eyes.

@cuntyvicodin

[reloha]

Jacobi and McKellen as grand marshals of New York City's 2015 pride march.

All Good Omens (show) fans will know Derek Jacobi as the Metatron. His brief role on Doctor Who is also getting a lot of mention in recent posts, but I'm not going to talk about any of that.

Like his Vicious co-star Ian McKellen, Jacobi has had a long and illustrious career in theatre, television, and film. McKellen and Jacobi met when they were at Cambridge.

I'm not a huge fan of the Daily Mail, but this article, an interview with the two actors, is quite interesting. I'll just quote this part:

Jacobi says he came out to his mother when he was at university. ‘She said, “All young men, go through this phase, don’t worry.” I remember saying, “Don’t tell Dad.”’ He doesn’t know to this day if she did. ‘I think she did, but I don’t know. But they were wonderful, my parents, not much was said but they kind of knew, they got it.’

McKellen hasn’t heard his friend talk of this before. ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard that,’ he says, genuinely moved. ‘I never came out to my family. Biggest regret of my life.’ It turns out he didn’t even come out to Derek at university, even though it’s always been reported that he had something of a crush on him. 

‘Yes, I did fancy Derek, but I didn’t act on it, God, no. It was illegal, remember. I do get on my high horse about it, because it was so difficult. There were no gay clubs you could go to. No gay bars, no gay newspaper, nothing. What there was was a bit sleazy, I suspect. One of the reasons I became an actor was that you could meet gay people. Even then everything was difficult. When you went to America they asked, “Are you now, or have you ever been, homosexual?” I lied on the form. It was a different world.’

I want to talk about Vicious for a bit, the ITV britcom in which Derek Jacobi and Ian McKellen play an aging gay couple, (respectively) a homemaker, Stuart Bixby, and an actor, Freddie Thornhill, for fourteen episodes.

Freddie (McKellen) tells Stuart (Jacobi) about a part he's hoping to get.

I had to add these for the Broadchurch reference.

It's a law that British actors of a certain age play this part.

I couldn't find one with Michael Sheen and the skull, but here he is in the role.

McKellen did the part again at 81 in an age-blind production.

Jacobi's big breakout was the titular role in I, Claudius on the BBC in 1976.

In the '90s, Jacobi played amateur sleuth and 12th century monk, Brother Cadfael on the ITV series.

I had watched some of Vicious before, but, spurred on by Jacobi's reappearance on Good Omens, looked for it again and watched both seasons a couple of weeks ago. Because I love a good fancast and Jacobi and Sheen (at least as Aziraphale) remind me a little of each other, I couldn't help but think that Jacobi and McKellen in their youth could have played a version of Aziraphale and Crowley. (There have been a couple of posts noting this about Jacobi, and that he might have been up for the part if it had been done soon after the book came out.)

Jacobi, left, and McKellen, right (obviously).

I also think that Tennant and Sheen could have pulled off playing Freddie and Stuart in a flashback.

An even younger version of Freddie and Stuart does appear in the series, however, played by Luke Treadaway and Samuel Barnett.

Also good casting! They do a great job playing McKellen and Jacobi playing Freddie and Stuart.

Shoutout to this post by @ember-knights, that suggested Good Omens fans should check out Vicious for a glimpse of what life in the South Downs cottage might be. And also to other posts mentioning Vicious and Good Omens in the same breath, as well as comparing Sheen and Tennant to Jacobi and McKellen (which I probably reblogged but can't find right now).

Cast of Vicious: Frances de la Tour, Iwan Rheon, Philip Voss, Ian McKellen, Derek Jacobi, Marcia Warren (Wikipedia). (Yes, the upstairs neighbor (Rheon) does go on to play Ramsay Bolton on Game of Thrones. He's a sweetheart in this, though.)

Now, I don't think Crowley and Aziraphale are the same as Freddie and Stuart, by any means. Freddie and Stuart say quite cruel things to each other. The characters become deeper in the second season; it’s a little sweeter than the first. I enjoy the bitterness of the first season too, though. It is funny, and Good Omens fans may enjoy watching it if only to see Derek Jacobi (who plays the Metatron) in a comedy role and a role that's sympathetic, especially if they are not familiar with his large and impressive body of work.

I don't think Aziraphale and Crowley's life in the bookshop as a couple, not just a group of two, or life on the South Downs, would be exactly like this, but there are somehow some similarities that I don't even know how to begin to pinpoint or explicate.

Crowley and Aziraphale’s affection is always so palpable and that’s not always clear with Freddie and Stuart. Crowley and Aziraphale are so loving that, even when they're bickering, it's joyful, even when they're arguing, even when they're coming apart (temporarily) at the seams, their love is undeniable. I don’t even think their breakup was toxic; although they were desperate at that point and hurt each other badly, it wasn't what they wanted. Sometimes it's that way.

And, lest I'm putting you off Vicious here, the Ineffable Husbands are a high bar as love stories go, but you will get to see some love and affection between Freddie and Stuart too, and I'd really love to see these actors work together more. (I am happy with how the show ends up, by the way.)

Toodle-loo! Hope everything is tickety-boo with you.

[doberbutts]

I remember reading a post that men are the oppressor class so why would they bother to dismantle systemic patriarchy when they actively benefit from its existence? And as I read it, I thought, Damn, so an entire half of the population can never conceivably help us, and the people who love men in their lives are doomed. It wasn't a helpful post. It basically felt, here's some actual material analysis on feminism and said, That trying to educate and make men be part of feminism is fundamentally a flawed effort, because again, they are the oppressor class, why should they care about uplifting the oppressed?

And it made me think about this very good pamphlet I read, explaining how the white worker remained complacent for so long because at least they weren't a Black slave. And that the author theorized the reason labor movements never truly created exceptional, radical change is because of internal racism (which I find true) and failure to uplift black people. And the author listed common outlooks/approaches to this problem, and one of them was: "We should ignore the white folks entirely and hold solidarity with only other POC, and the countries in the Global South. Who needs those wishy-washy white fragile leftists who don't care about what we think or want?" (roughly paraphrased.)

And the author said, This sounds like the most leftist and radical position, but it's totally flawed because it absolves us of our responsibility to dismantle white supremacy for the sake of our fellow marginalized people, and we are basically ignoring the problem. And that blew me away because this is a position so many activists have, to just ignore the white folks and focus entirely on our own movements. I wish I knew the name of the actual pamphlet, so I could quote entire passages at you.

But I feel this is the same for men. Obviously, we should prioritize and have women-led and women-focused feminism. But saying that men are an oppressor class so they can't reliably be counted upon in feminist activism--it's such a huge oversimplification. And mainly, I'm a Muslim, and I've been treated with plenty of misogyny from Muslim men. And also plenty of misogyny from Muslim women. And I love my male friends, I want men to be part of the movement, and I dunno. Thinking about communities, movements, and the various ways we fail each other and what it means to be truly intersectional keeps me up at night.

I don't know the pamphlet you're talking about but I've read and been taught similar. There's a reason much of my anti-racism is so feminist and most of my feminism is anti-racist. Many people coming at this problem from a truly intersectional angle have seen that there is no freedom to be had without joining hands across the community. Not picking and choosing our allies based off of identity but off of behavior.

As used in a previous example, a white abled moderately wealthy man saying "wow Healthcare sucks in this country, why does this system suck so bad" should be told "hey, this system sucks so bad because it's built off of sexism, racism, classism, and ableism. You want to improve the system? Fix those things and it will be much better in the long run" and not "shut up you're a man. Healthcare is always going to be better for you". The second response doesn't fix that Healthcare is still a problem even if you are at the "top" of the privilege ladder. If we want true change, we have to dismantle the entire system at it's core and build it up without the yuck, otherwise you're gunna get to the top and realize this place sucks too.

Something something if the crabs worked together to hold each other up, they could all get out of the bucket and be free.

[cowboys-tshot]

(HUGE rdr2 spoilers)

do you ever think about the process of charles burying arthur? at first i didn't think about it much but then i saw people talking about it more and now im just in pain

charles says that he buried arthur after 'word got up to him up north.' how long would that take? weeks, probably. then he'd have to actually locate arthur's body—he obviously found grimshaw and buried her first, as she died at beaver hollow. assuming that the pinkerton's left arthur's body where he died, charles likely would've had to find arthur's body using weeks-old tracks. he'd find arthur's horse first. did he bury the horse too? i don't think he would purely for logistics reasons, but i do think he would've had a moment of silence or something. he knew how much arthur cared for his horse(s). he'd find arthur's body and put him on taima (which is a parallel to the beginning of the game—taima is the first and last horse that carries arthur). he'd try to find a fitting burial place. how long would he spend looking? how long was he traveling with arthur's rotting corpse? how could he stand to even be around it, the body of one of his closest friends?

but he found a place. a place with a good view of the natural world. he carved out a grave marker that's more complex than any other we've seen made for the fallen gang members. he carved a quote that he felt described arthur at his core, even if arthur never saw himself that way and wasn't even a religious man to begin with (seeing as it is a quote from the bible). he planted flowers because he knew arthur had a deep appreciation for nature. how long did he spend making that grave? how long did he sit there afterwards? was he the calm, collected man we know him to be or was he angry or upset or heartbroken?

i wish they'd gotten a happy ending together. i wish they'd had more time.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Faking It | Part VI

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE YOU GUYS!! This chapter took a lot out of me for some reason, but I'm pretty content with where we're at. Hope you like it!

PS. You will like it.

PPS. I promise you, you will like it XD

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: swearing, minor angst, FLUFFITY FLUFF

Start from the beginning: Part I

“Chicken is good,” Bradley says to his dinner plate.

Across the table, your aunt makes an enthusiastic sound in agreement and continues chewing.

“Delicious,” you respond curtly.

Bradley looks over at you, so you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Yours is better, darling,” he says, feigning a cordial tone, but you can see past the charade. He’s just as angry with you as you are with him.

“Her mushroom stuffed chicken is divine,” your mother chimes in.

“It’s her specialty,” Bradley says, quoting a line from the notes you’d given him to prepare for the weekend because, obviously, he’s never had your mushroom stuffed chicken. He presses his lips together although the smile he aims at you is acerbic.

You try your best not to roll your eyes at him.

“Does Bradley cook?” your aunt asks, watching the two of you with interest.

You glance at her in alarm, unsure how to respond since you don’t know the answer. You could make something up; nobody would know any better, but somehow that seems more dishonest than pretending he’s your boyfriend.

“I do, actually,” Bradley intervenes. You look at him gratefully and he returns your gaze with a slight nod. “Y/N is particularly fond of my shepherd’s pie.”

Your mother cringes at Bradley. “Y/N hates ground meat. She won’t even eat burgers.”

Bradley stares at your mother, speechless for a moment, while you try to keep your composure despite the rapidly encroaching panic.

“It’s uh… vegetarian,” he says quickly.

“Vegetarian shepherd’s pie?” your aunt asks. “Never heard of such a thing.”

“Mm-hm.” You start to nod vigorously. “It’s so good.”

“What do you make it with?” your mother asks and everybody at the table seems farcically fascinated with the concept of vegetarian shepherd’s pie.

You feel like the air is being sucked from your lungs as you watch Bradley purse his lips while he stalls. “Bradley, I totally forgot to bring my shawl from the chalet and I’m cold,” you say.

Bradley raises his eyebrows at you and you know exactly what he’s thinking: that it’s about a million degrees in this place. “Here.” He starts shrugging off his suit jacket and you nearly groan because he must know that you’re not actually cold.

You give him a pointed look as he starts to drape the jacket over your shoulders. “I’d really prefer my shawl,” you say, trying to keep the severity out of your tone.

“Oh, don’t make him go all the way back to the rooms, Y/N,” your aunt says sympathetically. Then, she adds, “He still has to tell us about this shepherd’s pie. I wouldn’t mind grabbing the recipe.” She beams at him.

“It’s uh,” Bradley says, “exactly like the one with meat. Except, you know, without it.” Bradley responds uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“There’s got to be more to it.” Your mother narrows her eyes. “Is it a secret?”

“What? No, of course not!” Bradley chuckles. Then, he says, “Oh! I love this song!” He jumps up from his chair. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s dance!”

You stare at him in horror, trying to determine exactly what song is playing over the hum of dinner conversation. The dance floor is empty because everyone is still eating. “I’m actually not a huge fan of” –

But Bradley doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he grabs your hand and pulls you out of your seat so quickly that his jacket flies off your shoulders.

“Don’t you worry,” your grandmother says, leaning down to pick up the jacket and hanging it over the back of your chair. “Go have fun, you two.”

You let out a sigh as Bradley drags you out into the middle of the dance floor, already grooving to the music as he walks. Now that you’re closer to the speakers, you recognize the song that apparently Bradley loves.

He tugs on your hand, forcing you to turn toward him, and you catch his eyes sweeping over your face before meeting your gaze. He lifts your hand, drawing you closer while taking you by the waist. He’s shimmying his shoulders to the beat, his lips curling into a smirk when you start to move your hips reluctantly.

When the chorus kicks in, Bradley starts to sing along. “Ooh baby, I love your way.” His voice is a little raspy and a lot sexy. You feel the now familiar turbulence wreak havoc on your organs, but Bradley continues his serenade, completely unaware of just exactly what it’s doing to you.

You feel your scowl dissolve as Bradley tries to engage you in the dancing by moving your arms around. You start to laugh when he twists you this way and that as he sings at the top of his lungs. Before long, you forget exactly why you’ve been upset with him, and your irritation seems hardly relevant at all, especially considering the lengths to which he’s going in order to keep up appearances.

Bradley extends his arm out and spins you before bringing you flush against his body. Your hips align with his and the two of you sway together from side to side, his hand clutching yours to his chest as he sings, “I wanna tell you I love your way, everyday. I wanna be with you night and day.”

When the next song comes on, other guests begin to step out onto the dance floor. “Might be safer to just stay out here,” he says, shrugging.

You nod. “Chicken wasn’t very good anyway,” you say, thinking of your half-finished dinnerplate.

He laughs. “Here’s hoping the cake will be chocolate,” he says, already dancing to the next song.

You chuckle, starting to move more freely to the upbeat music.

Bradley smiles at you appreciatively, grabbing your hand to swing you to the side while you grin, admiring his dancing skills. The DJ is playing all the old classics and you are both thoroughly enjoying the familiar melodies.

Several songs in, when the two of you are moderately out of breath, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see your sister’s smiling face. She leans in to whisper in your ear, “You guys look super cute together!”

The words send a bittersweet ripple through you because, on the one hand, it means your ruse has been a success but, on the other, it’s all a farce. Your feelings toward Bradley might be genuine, but Bradley is here as your friend. And he’s faking the rest of it. Nevertheless, you shoot your sister a wide grin, grateful for her support.

A few minutes later, Aly shows up to claim her dance with Bradley. You step aside and watch on as Bradley takes the girl’s hands and starts twirling her around with a giant smile on his face. He seems pleased that she’s remembered to find him. You laugh when he picks her up and swings her, feet first, on either side of his body. Aly is giggling merrily and, as he sets her back down, Bradley glances up at you briefly, giving you a lopsided grin and a wink.

The night seems to fly by as you and Bradley spend the majority of it on the dance floor. When your sister goes to do the bouquet toss, your mother pushes you into the throng of single women gathering eagerly behind the bride. You eye your mother crossly but, when you catch the amused smirk on Bradley’s face, you suddenly want to catch the damn bouquet.

The battle for the flying flowers is unexpectedly aggressive. There is a lot more elbowing than you’d expect, as well as a fair amount of shoving, kicking, and toe stomping. But, for some reason, you are determined to win. You end up catching the bouquet despite the numerous hands obstructing your view, and you turn back to your table and do a little victory dance as you walk back toward Bradley. He laughs at you, shaking his head.

“You’re such a goof,” he mutters in a low voice as you approach him, but the expression he wears is something reminiscent of fondness.

You drop your eyes because his gaze makes you blush. “Your turn,” you say in a sing-song voice, and he passes a hand over your stomach as he proceeds to join the rest of the bachelors awaiting the toss of the garter.

Your aunt cozies up to you as you watch Bradley approach the group of men on the floor. “I like him,” she says.

You turn to her in surprise.

“Don’t look so shocked,” she says. “I think he’s perfect for you.”

“More perfect than Steven?” you ask pointedly.

“Eh,” your aunt shrugs. “I never cared for Steven.”

“But he’s a doctor!” you exclaim in mock outrage, trying to emulate your mother’s tone when she’d learned of your decision to break up.

Your aunt chuckles. “Steven is a pompous ass.”

“Can you tell my mother that?”

Your aunt turns to face you. “I’ve never seen you look at Steven the way you look at Bradley.”

You bite your lip, wondering if she might also have noticed the way Bradley looks at you when you aren’t paying attention. But you can’t ask her that, so you turn back to observe the garter toss in silence.

You see that Steven has stepped into the crowd where he and Bradley promptly exchange menacing glares with one another. Bradley then turns his head to glance back at you over his shoulder. You wave at him just as the groom throws the garter and, by the time Bradley looks back, Steven jumps up to grab it.

You hold your breath as Steven dangles the garter in front of Bradley’s face and, for a moment, Bradley looks like he might punch him for being an idiot. But then Bradley lets out a long breath and turns to walk back toward you with a scowl.

“What does it mean?” he asks as he approaches you.

“Well,” you say. “Obviously it means that Steven and I are meant to be and that we’ll be getting married and having a bunch of babies.”

Bradley watches you impassively. “You’re funny,” he says. You smile at him mildly and he steps closer, wrapping his arm around you. “He’ll have to get past me first,” he mutters, and his words inspire yet another flutter in your gut that leaves you feeling buzzed.

But the sensation is interrupted by Steven’s arrogant drawl. “Shall we?” he says, and you turn to see him standing right behind you. “They’re waiting for us.”

You narrow your eyes at him as Bradley’s grip tightens on your hip. “Who’s waiting for us?”

“It’s customary for the woman who catches the bouquet and the man who catches the garter to dance,” your aunt says with a grimace.

You blink at her defeatedly and then glance up worriedly at Bradley. He lifts an eyebrow and squints his eyes, his hold loosening around your waist. “It’s just a dance,” he says, seeing the discomfort on your face. “Don’t let him get to you.”

You nod, releasing a wavering sigh, and turn toward Steven. “Let’s get this over with,” you say.

Steven grins at you. “That’s the spirit,” he says, taking your hand to lead you out onto the now empty dance floor. He glances over his shoulder as the two of you make your way to the center, a faint smirk materializing on his face when his eyes lock on Bradley.

Steven places his hand on your side and pulls you closer when the song starts. As the two of you slowly rotate, you can see Bradley watching you from the sidelines, a hard expression coloring his features.

Steven brings you into an embrace. “Feels like old times,” he says.

“Not really,” you respond coldly, trying to regain some space between your bodies.

“Don’t tell me you’re serious about this aviator,” he says.

You glance up at him indignantly. “Of course, I’m serious about him. I wouldn’t have brought him to my sister’s wedding if I weren’t.”

He chuckles. “You forget that I know you very well,” he says.

You swallow, wondering what he’s getting at.

Steven eyes you with a devious smirk. “He’s not your boyfriend,” he says.

“Excuse me?” you say, offended and anxious in equal measure.

He chuckles. “Sure, maybe he’s a friend,” he says, shrugging. “But that dude is not dating you.”

“What are you talking about?” You want to ask how he could tell, but you don’t want to give anything away.

“The closest you have gotten to each other is a quick hug here and there. You look like you’re afraid to touch him,” he says. “So, the question is, why did you feel the need to bring him? You didn’t know I’d be here, so it wasn’t to make me jealous.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” you scoff.

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s your mom, isn’t it? She’s pushing you to start dating again. She’s always been a big fan of mine.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop talking, Steven.”

Steven brings his face closer to yours. “Making me jealous is just an added benefit, isn’t it? Well, I’m here to tell you that it worked. Even if you aren’t actually dating the guy.”

“I couldn’t care less how you feel about my relationship,” you respond, gritting your teeth.

Steven chuckles. “‘Relationship’,” he repeats, using his right hand to make air quotes.

You’re seething so much that your head starts to hurt and, just as you’re about to walk away from him, you feel a soft touch along your shoulder blade. Bradley steps around you, giving Steven an icy look. “I can take over from here, Steven,” he says casually, as if interrupting a traditional slow dance in front of an audience is regularly scheduled programming.

Steven stares at him in astonishment, completely lost for words. Bradley doesn’t wait for him to respond; he takes your hand out of Steven’s and leads you away.

You raise your eyebrows as Steven stands alone in the middle of the floor, looking around awkwardly. Meanwhile, you feel Bradley’s hand slide up your waist and pull you in, swaying you gently to the music. You gulp as Steven glares at you before turning on his heel and making his way toward your table, where your aunt and mother are standing and watching the action unfold.

“Bradley,” you say quietly.

“Hm?”

You glance up at him anxiously. “He knows,” you say. “Steven knows.”

“Knows what?” he asks.

You bite your lip. “That you’re not really my boyfriend. That all of this is fake.”

Bradley makes a skeptical face. “Did you tell him?”

“Of course not! He guessed.”

Bradley chuckles. “How?”

You shrug. “Apparently, we’re not affectionate enough.”

Bradley narrows his eyes, one corner of his mouth curling upward slightly. “What are you proposing?”

“I’m not proposing anything! I’m saying, the jig is up and we’re fucked,” you whisper feverishly. “Oh god, he’s talking to my mother. He’s going to tell her!”

Bradley lets out a slow sigh and pulls you a tad closer. “Hey,” he says. “There’s nothing to tell. Remember what I said? Don’t let him get to you.”

You glance up into Bradley’s eyes and, for a single moment, the background fades into nonexistence and your troubles with Steven seem a million miles away. But then, you shift back to reality, suddenly aware of the entire room watching you dance with your supposed boyfriend whom you can’t even kiss him.

As if on cue, Bradley says in a low voice, “You know, there is a way we can be more convincing as a couple.”

You stare at him for a moment while he watches you carefully, probably analyzing your reaction. His gaze drops down to your lips and you instinctively crane your neck before you can stop yourself. Bradley’s eyebrows twitch as a mystified expression passes fleetingly over his features. You note the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows uneasily; the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his face nears yours.

“What do you think?” he mutters, so close now that the tip of his nose brushes against the tip of yours.

There’s so much commotion in your chest, you feel like your ribs might rupture trying to keep it contained. “Uh,” you breathe, not confident you can articulate a more complex sound. You hope that his question is rhetorical in nature and that he’s not actually expecting a response.

Bradley steps about a millimeter closer, the hand he kept on your hip now sliding slowly up your side. You can feel his fingers clasp around your bent elbow, lingering there for a moment before trailing up your arm, its trace along your bare skin electric.

You let your lips part when you feel the heat of his breath as it mixes with yours, your slow dance coming to a near standstill as the two of you waver in uncertainty. You know that kissing Bradley Bradshaw will be the ultimate annihilation of whatever chance you might have had at restoring a platonic friendship with him once the weekend is over. Perhaps not for Bradley, but certainly for you. You also know that kissing Bradley Bradshaw is the best method of proving the authenticity of your relationship to your mother and Steven.

But before you can continue to contemplate the risk-reward ratio of kissing him, you feel Bradley’s bottom lip skim over your top one, and you could swear that your body might shatter upon impact. If Bradley, by some chance, determines to kiss you kiss you, you might not survive it. But despite the ever-present possibility that you may die if you were to actually lock lips with Bradley Bradshaw, you are now convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are willing – nay, aching – to hazard it.

And just as you begin to wonder whether Bradley is on the same page, his mouth closes around yours. For a moment, neither of you breathes, giving you ample opportunity to acknowledge the fact that you aren’t dead but, on the contrary, extremely alive. You are submerged in sensation, baffled by how many things in your body can feel.

And then Bradley breathes out forcefully, taking a step into you, his arm curving around your back to keep you steady as he presses his body against yours. His lips begin to move, inviting yours into a desperate, delirious dance.

You let your hand travel up his chest and behind his neck, your fingers grazing his skin as he leans closer. Meanwhile, his hand is suddenly in your hair, contending with the mass of bobby pins as he attempts to rake his fingers right through. Instead, he resolves to grip a chunk of it by your ear, interrupting the kiss for a moment to let out a low chuckle against your mouth. At that, you slide your hand to the back of his head, pushing him toward you again.

Bradley resumes kissing you eagerly, both his hands now arriving on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheeks.

Somewhere beyond, one song ends and another begins. There is movement on the outside, some shuffling, and you finally open your eyes just as your glorious kiss comes to a conclusion.

Bradley rests his forehead on yours, breathing heavily into the small space between your faces while neither of you dare to say a word.

There are others on the dance floor now. Dancing, laughing, not paying the two of you the slightest bit of attention. And why would they? You’ve just done what any normal couple would do. Nobody knows how the moment transported you, how it has altered you.

Then, Bradley speaks. “Do you think they’ll miss us?”

“What?” you breathe, your foreheads still together as you watch his mouth move.

He bites into his lip. “If we leave now,” he says. “Will they notice we’re gone?”

Your heart starts to hammer once again. “What about the cake?” you ask.

“The cake?” he says, and you feel the skin of his forehead wrinkle as he furrows his brows.

“What if it’s chocolate?” you ask.

Bradley’s mouth curls into an amused smile. “Could be diamond for all I care.”

“That would be tough on the teeth.” You make a grimace to lighten the mood but, on the inside, you’re crumbling. Bradley wants to leave. He wants to leave so he isn’t forced to kiss you again.

Bradley lets out a steady sigh and takes a step toward you, the movement bringing your bodies together. You close your eyes because you’re far too close to see anything meaningful anymore anyway. “I could give a fuck about the cake, Y/N,” he says hoarsely.

Read Part VII

Tag List:

I will try my best to tag the rest of this list in the comments! Might take a while bc I can only tag 5 at a time, so I might finish tagging in the morning. If I don't get to you, I'm sorry!

XOXO

@lonelywitchv2

@fanboyluvr

@marrianena

@anotherr-fine-mess

@mrs-obrien

@living-in-my-imagination88

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@whitewolfsbitch

@beebslebobs

@gretagerwigsmuse

@mak-32

@strangunddurm

@desert-fern

@maverick-wingman

@jamielovesbucky

@n3ssm0nique

@misshoneypaper

@roosterscockpit

@jakexfmc

@wintercap89

@gracielou0518

@averyhotchner

@bxwitched

@yeetzel

@xoxabs88xox

@cynisarmy

@kwanimations

@onlygetaway

@hope-love-equality2

@shanimallina87

@ijustwantedplums

@oliviah-25

@gayforsteve

@gingerbreadandpaper

@vemonbby

@sebastianstansimp

@alexxavicry

@spn-marvel-nerd

@army24--7

@emmy626

@criminalyetminimal

@candid-confetti

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@thefandomimagines

@moony-artemis

@my-secret-life-1

@roostereads

@currentlybradshaw

@whisperofsong

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Okay I see your "if Hobie and Noir meet they would be besties and punch nazis together" and I totally agree with that! But also consider:

Hobie is Spider Noir's biggest fanboy!

Like in the comics he's like a HUGE Gwen Stacy stan and he's such a goofy little dork about it. In ATSV him and Gwen's relationship is more like chill friends, and I'm okay with that. But I think it be so funny that when Hobie was recruted into Spiderverse society and Miguel was showing him all the other universes with the different Spiderman variants he pauses by the computer screen with that one gritty black and white universe cuz he just saw some guy in a fedora and trench coat PUNCH A FUCKING NAZI!!! WHO IS THAT GUY?!?! HE'S SO COOL!!!

He asks Miguel a million and one question about the guy and when the old grump annoyingly shoos him away he asks Peter as he briefly met him during that one incident in Miles is dimension. When that still isn't enough he asks Lyla to tell him everything she knows on Noir. Now obviously Lyla has no obligation to do this but she's also never seen Hobie this giddy and excited over something other then music. Its adorable, he's almost like a little kid wanting to know everything about their favorite cartoon. Also she low key likes to annoy Miguel and Hobie's rebellious spirit that gets under her straight laced boss is skin which is hilarious.

You know when Gwen first met Hobie she was a bit intimated cuz he just had that "too cool" vibe about him. But as soon as she mentions that she has worked with other Spider people before, which includes Noir, he did a whole 180 and became a complete dork!

Hobie: Get out, you actually met him! 🤩

Gwen: Uh, yeah?

Hobie: How was he like? What did he say? Did he talk about fascist corruption that not only plagued the system back then but even now as well? Was he super cool during the fight?! 😃🤩💫😻

Gwen: ..........He was nice.

Hobie: That's so rad! ✨️🤟🤩

I also feel like, aside from Miles, Gwen keeps in contact with the other Spider peeps from the first movie and tried to recruit them into the Spider society but obviously Noir and Porker didn't join. Porker because he’s a cartoon that follows "toon logic" and Miguel's ideologies are too serious for his taste. And Noir because, and I quote: "The last I heard of a secret society designed to 'keep the peace for the greater good of humanity at any cost' a whole world war came about it. I know fascism when I see it, kid."

Gwen relays that message to Hobie when explaining why Noir isn't joining and Hobie's response to that is: "He gets it! He just like me fr! 😭💕"

I think it be really cute that in the next movie when they finally meet Hobie is kinda awkward and shy. Like this guy has never respected an adult in his life (at least not any that didn’t deserve the disrespect) and with Noir his all like "Hello sir" "How are you sir" "It's very nice to meet you sir!" And Noir is actually just a really nice guy if a little broody but he's heard so much about this kid from Gwen and how much of a good friend he's been to her so Noir already likes him on principle.

Hobie: Uh Mr. Noir-- Parker, sir! It is such an honor to meet you! The work you do in your universe is amazing and I hope to learn more while working alongside you however briefly.

Noir: Ah, Peter is just fine really, or Noir if it gets to confusing. No need to be so formal, we're all on equal footing here. I've heard a lot about you and your world as well from Gwen. Although it does sadden me that such a young man has to take on the burden of saving the world from such a corrupt society yet again, you're going about it quite well. War is hard and ugly and violent but you are amazingly brave to be able to stand up for what is right in the face of it all. If anybody is honored here it is me, for being able to meet such a remarkable young man like you. And knowing that my friends have made such honorable allies in the midst of all this chaos.

Hobie, externally: Yeah, it's whatevs 😎

Hobie, internally: Dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry YOURE GUNNA LOOK SO UNCOOL IF YOU CRY IN FRONT OF HIM NOW 😭💕😭💕😭

I just think it be really cute if they had a wholesome father-son sort of relationship where they shit talk corrupt government systems and punch fascists together. You know, regular father-son bonding!

(Also I think that's another reason Miguel didn't invite Spider Noir to the Spiderverse, cuz he knew that both of these menaces together would cause a bigger headache than its worth 🤣🤣🤣)

[icedcoffee-cream]

Concupiscent * Miles Quaritch

Pairing : Recombinant Colonel Quaritch/ Gn Reader (how he fucks his s/o)

Word Count : 585

Warnings : Minors DNI, Description of sex, swearing, no spoilers for ATWOW.

I have lots to say about Recom Quaritch in bed, and when I think of sex with quaritch, I don't picture him as a soft, gentle and chary sex partner, no. I see a sharp witted recom na’vi who teases you to no end, he's rude, arduous and isn't afraid to let you know what he wants and how he wants it. And what's so frustrating about it is how easily you give in, unable to turn a blind eye to that body and sexy voice. Another thing that's so frustrating is that your partner has absolutely NO filter, and he's so smooth about it (unless obviously it's something the both you agreed to to not bring up in bed) he says the most atrocious things, explains in detail how he's going to fuck you with his large hand wrapped around your throat, and somehow it comes out perfectly suave and unstilted.

---

"Feels good doesn't it, sweetheart?" The recombinant pauses his licking to nip at your inner thigh, sharp teeth itching to sink into your soft sensitive flesh. You whine and huff loudly, your calf coming up to push his head closer to the problem at hand.

"Don't be petulant." Quaritch hisses, shoving your leg away with his shoulder. "I can leave you here to suffer on your own, y'know, all needy and valuable." He laughs almost manically at your alarmed expression.

"Don't you dare! I'd fucking kill you."

He slaps his palm against your hot pudendum, causing you to shout profanity. "I'd like to see you try.."

---

Quaritch gives oral for himself, not for you. With his new size and strength, there are endless amounts of opportunities, his tongue now longer and thicker, and arms now stronger, he forces you in the most obscure positions while he eats you out. His obnoxiously loud slurping would embarrass you if you weren't so distracted with how ethustiasclly you were rutting against his face, he sounds almost barbaric with his lewd groans and moans. He's scarily skillful and accurate, sucking on your parts just right to have you mewling and crying in ecstasy

---

While Quaritch may not have a daddy kink, he sure as hell does have an authority kink. You address him as sir and nothing more, (occasionally he'll be nice and let you call him whatever you'd like) Speaking of which, the recom has a wide variety of pet names for you, ranging from, Sweetheart, Sweetie, my Lovely (ALONE ONLY Lol), Play thing/Pet, Tiny etc.

---

Even if you both aren't quote on quote being "freaky in the sheets" that doesn't stop quaritch from being very touchy feely with you, alone or in public, he's not a huge fan of PDA but he'll always have a hand on your hip, the small of your back or just standing really close to you. Alone, he's worse, he slides his hands under your clothing and squeezes whatever he can get his hands on.

---

One word, Missionary, it's a simple and common position but that doesn't make it any less pleasurable, this position gives him total control and give you little to none, and he LOVES IT, he likes it when you keep your shirt on so he has something to grab and pull you down with. Not to mention had a perfect view of your face and throat, which means he can lean down to suck and bite as much as he pleases.

--

Thank you for the lovely request @smokeywhalee I hope you don't mind the altercations!

[maidenvault]

RotJ makes a point of letting us know that Leia is Luke's sister, they've known this on some level for a long time, and he probably cares more about her than anyone in the world because this gives so much more weight to his conflict at the end of the movie, and I think this is a huge thing people overlook when they argue that him redeeming his father represents a rejection of the old Jedi ways of non-attachment. Because in the moment he has to let go of Leia and his friends to be able to actually save Anakin.

When Obi-Wan tries to convince Luke that he has to kill Vader and there's no other way, he doesn’t really discuss it as an issue of Luke having an attachment to him. I think he knows this isn't really the Jedi way but just like in the previous war, they don't seem to be faced with any good choices. Obi-Wan believes what Luke wants is truly impossible and, having failed to stop Vader when he could have before, of course he's trying to stop Luke from making the same mistake.

But it's significant that in the same conversation, Obi-Wan does warn him that his love for his sister could be made a liability if he's not careful. When Luke learns he has a twin and reveals how strong a connection he feels with Leia because he doesn't even have to be told who it is, Obi-Wan's response sets up how this will play into the climax of the film:

"Your insight serves you well. Bury your feelings deep down, Luke. They do you credit, but they could be made to serve the Emperor."

Then when Luke is brought to Sidious, he reveals to Luke that the Rebellion is walking right into a trap as a way to torment and provoke him. Luke gets angrier and angrier while helplessly watching the fleet get ambushed and finally does just what Sidious wants and tries to attack him. But it's Vader specifically threatening Leia that makes Luke totally lose control of his feelings and fight him in a rage.

Luke is basically facing the same kind of test he failed so badly in ESB by running off to help his friends. When Yoda is trying to make him see he's not ready to face Vader and keep him from going to Bespin, he says something that I think is such an underrated quote in its importance to Luke's whole journey:

"Decide you must how to serve them best. If you leave now, help them you could, but you would destroy all for which they have fought and suffered."

Luke is really lucky he doesn't get killed in Cloud City (or captured, which I think at this point could have resulted in him being turned). Yoda knows Luke is the one person with a chance of defeating the Emperor and Luke just about throws that away.

But at the end of RotJ when Luke cuts off Vader's hand, he surely is reminded of his failure at Bespin and sees the path he's starting down by succumbing to his fears like that again. He stops because he sees he's betraying his loved ones and everything he is. He can only throw away his weapon and confidently tell the Emperor to eat shit then because he's no longer afraid of dying or of those he loves dying. He's done what his father couldn't do and kept his soul intact, which is what Leia would want. Because real love isn't selfishly trying to save someone by betraying what they believe in like Anakin did with Padme. And it obviously has to be an incredibly powerful thing for Vader to see his own son able to do this, even comparing himself to the man he once was ("I am a Jedi, like my father before me").

We remember everything working out okay so it's easy sometimes to forget that Luke gives this triumphant speech when the rebel fleet is getting pulverized outside and things overall still look pretty hopeless. He probably expects he could die at this point. But like Obi-Wan in his own death scene, he knows nothing can destroy him now. And it's the love he feels for his family that gives him the strength to let go.

[shitswiftiessay]

so taylor has put out another hit piece against joe (who’s surprised)

after buying winning the TIME person of the year award 2023, and having a gushing puff piece that’s supposed to paint her as this trailblazer for women and feminist icon…

she made sure to dedicate a significant portion of it to talking about her boyfriends. 🙄

so here are the cringeworthy excerpts where she’s talking about her latest victim boyfriend.

“Football is awesome, it turns out. I’ve been missing out my whole life.”

I love how she single handedly debunked the claim that swifties have been making, that taylor ALWAYS loved football and was a huge eagle fan (just bc she had an eagles shirt). now it’s basically confirmed that this football shit is just taylor’s newest PERSONALITY that she’s gonna wear for a few months, until she gets bored of it, and then she’ll throw travis under the bus and she’ll start siccing her fans against him.

“This all started when Travis very adorably put me on blast on his podcast, which I thought was metal as hell.”

god, someone bring me a BARF BUCKET please. 🪣 🤮 and since when is it “adorable” for a guy to PUT YOU ON BLAST because you wouldn’t go out with him or take his number?? that’s… very weird. i’m sure she wouldn’t find it “adorable” if she wasn’t interested in the guy. but anyway, i’m pretty sure she just saw an opportunity here and she took it. she can’t handle being single for more than a month, she needed a new man to make people forget about her matty healy era. and she’s LOVING the good press she’s getting for being “America’s royal couple” as her fans are calling them. but does she actually LOVE HIM? that, I remain yet to be convinced about.

and I love this part. “We would never be psychotic enough to hard-launch a first date.”

yeah, taylor’s not CRAZY you guys, it’s not like she said “I love you” to matty healy on stage back in may before breaking up with him 2 weeks later. nah. it’s not like she immediately bought a house next to her teenage boyfriend connor kennedy who was STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL when she started dating him. nah. that would be CRAZY. PSYCHOTIC even!!

and here comes the part where she starts passive aggressively smearing joe and we all know she’s on a smear campaign against joe now but it’s kind of pathetic that even while winning PERSON OF THE YEAR she has to make it about that.

so taylor obviously has a lot to say about her new relationship, and how proud they are of each other. but you know what I DON’T hear her saying? “I’m in love” or “I’m happy with him.”

and personally, i think that speaks volumes. if she was truly HAPPY with her new man she wouldn’t be doing all this shit. if you were around when taylor broke up with calvin and then immediately started hard-launching hiddleswift, taking pap photo after pap photo and being extremely “happy” she was and meeting his mom and all that shit…. and if you don’t see the parallels between what she’s doing NOW with travis, you’re either a blind fan or just flat out stupid.

because at least when she started dating joe she actually left her exes alone (at least for a little while), she was like “I forget their names now.” and you can tell she was happy without having to make a big show of it- “nobody’s heard from me for months, I’m doing better than I ever was.”

but now she’s acting like it’s the worst thing ever that she was “locking herself in her house for a lot of years,” and she KNOWS that her fans are going to take that and blame joe for it.

JUST LOOK at the quotes and replies of this tweet and this tweet to see how those insane fucking swifties are acting over this. EVERYTHING she does now is an incitement against joe and she knows it, it’s deliberate, it’s calculated.

and i guess she’s gotta bury him while she continues hanging out with a sexual abuse apologist so she can look like she has some kind of moral high ground.

also, the way she’s trying to erase the fact that 11 of the 15 songs on reputation were LOVE SONGS about joe, not “a goth-punk moment of female rage at being gaslit by an entire social structure.”

this woman is just narcissistic and straight up DELUSIONAL at this point. she’s so far up her own ass it’s nauseating. but i really hope that she keeps on talking. because the more she talks, the more people realise what a narcissistic clown she is. 🤡