#every day i talk about something absolutely ridiculously bonkers that my showed me when i was 11

[adlamu]

me talking about I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle and An American Werewolf In London on xwitter as though literally anybody cares about them but me feels like i'm at a squat party again, off my nut, looking a bit like this:

[boyswanna-be-her]

Today was a banner day escorting patients past the anti-abortion protesters (I'll just call them "antis" from now on, which is what all the other volunteers call them). There were TONS of appointments today and plenty of antis--including Wayne, the LOUDEST man on their crew, who I absolutely hate, who has assaulted a volunteer, who ALWAYS talks to me and tries to get my goat (not possible--goat gone, watch for finger).

In an incredible turn of events, 4 volunteers showed up to escort. I'm using Wayne's real name but let's keep it real for the volunteers--no identifying info. Volunteer Robert and I have been there together TONS because nobody else has been coming. Volunteer Sue was one of the first people I met and I love her so much--she comes once a week. And volunteer Matty was a new-to-me volunteer who has been out a few times.

I started playing music at the site weeks ago to keep up my own morale, and we quickly discovered that among the volunteers, I had the loudest speaker. Of course playing music for us escalated to playing music to troll them (i can have a little petty behavior, as a treat).

Then this week I... bought a louder speaker.

One thing Wayne loves to do is to stand outside the waiting room windows and pray and chant and harass and sing at the people inside. Unfortunately, it's quite audible.

Usually when all the patients are in, it's the time when the volunteers get to mostly chill and catch up, so when I saw Wayne handing out fucking sheet music to his anti cronies, my blood pressure was already up. They went up and down singing and singing and I just followed them on our side of the property line (it's legally pretty muddy but we have enough of a berth that they're a car's length from the windows) with my speaker in hand. I have a playlist now, of course.

At one point, Volunteer Sue gestured at anti Kim who was booking it down the road and said something about how ridiculous it was, the way that Kim chases these people just trying to leave.

I said "I feel like the Benny Hill Theme should be playing every time she does that." And then it hit me that I had a speaker and I could absolutely make that happen.

The next time Wayne et al lined up to yell-pray at the window, I pulled out Yakety Sax and put my speaker on its highest setting. At this point I was really fucking done with them shitting on my quality time with people I enjoy, so I was a little in his face about it (he's larger than I am and taller), just cancelling out his loud praying with my loud Yakety Sax.

I've done a lost of testing walking around to see the way that my music travels because I don't want to bother the surrounding businesses of course (and I don't want to get myself into trouble with the clinic). I really only turn it up when everyone is inside because booming music isn't super welcoming for patients who are already in a bonkers fucking environment. But the speaker at full volume is startlingly loud up close, can't be heard once you're in a car or office.

I am usually completely non confrontational with the antis. What I get off on is shaming them by letting their own idiot words hang in the air when they say them and smiling back at them. But I swear I just woke up knowing that Wayne was gonna be there and get under my skin. Not today fucker. Your skin is MINE.

So Yakety Sax was VERY well received by the volunteers and innocent people in the parking lot, and you have to imagine it being played while someone AGGRESSIVELY prays at a closed window. The other three volunteers were literally stood up behind me, all with full-size rainbow umbrellas and rainbow hi-viz vests, and they were laughing it up (antis HATE it when we laugh at them holy shit does it darken their days!).

I was shaking from adrenaline because this man was in my face but I held the speaker up and pulled up "Entry of the Gladiators" to queue as the next song. Yakety Sax finished up, Spotify helped with a crossfade to ensure no silent moments, and the Gladiators began their fucking Entry.

Wayne was NOT having it. Never would I ever have thought that playing circus music at a grown man would make him lose his temper, but yes, this move fully fucked with the old man's head. Temper gone, chili stirred. He started yelling his prayer literally as loud as he could into my face.

I stood there and took it. His little buddies were visibly unhappy with how it was abruptly escalating. I stood there and took it. Like full minutes passed, I was glad I had a second circus song queued because I needed it. The time dilation was real, and I gotta say having an adult man yell a prayer in your face for 3-5 minutes really makes time go by slow.

During that time, things were also escalating on our side, as Volunteers Robert and Matty had started hollering at Wayne to back up (oh yeah, forgot to mention that I started out a good legal distance from him but he crossed over onto our property line so that he could properly yell in my face). So it was just cacophony, full blast three men in a triangle around me yelling at each other while "Bozo's Song" was blaring.

At that point, when my side started yelling back, I felt like I might actually be in danger--and at the same moment that occurred to me, I realized how powerful it would be to just stop the music abruptly and walk away. So that's what I did. My side was silent immediately. Wayne continued pray-yelling as loud as he could--but he knew he couldn't get away with following me so he stayed at the window, his friends visibly dismayed, wondering if they should intervene.

I just wanted to make him look dumb, not piss Wayne off more, but me walking away made him go NUCLEAR. I think it was that he knew he'd shown his ass, but also that he could no longer yell at me or harass me because I'd removed myself.

I was very shaken up but proud of myself. Robert and I backed our hatchback trunks up to each other to form like a shady spot for all the volunteers, so I hopped into my open trunk and grabbed a soda and tried to chill myself out.

When I looked up, the clinic OWNER was making a beeline for Wayne. I didn't even realize the clinic owner was in town. Honestly I wouldn't have provoked Wayne if I had because doing this is important to me and I don't want to upset the big boss or give her any reason to tell me not to come back. When I saw her, my heart really dropped.

The other three volunteers had stayed there with the praying group. When the owner came out, Wayne turned his fury on her. I was too far away to hear what was going on. I was so ready for her to make a beeline to ME after Wayne.

IDK if Volunteer Robert ran interference for me with her on purpose or not, but the escort solidarity was strong today and the other volunteers implied that everything that went down had been a group decision. Owner never even came over to talk to me, so I learned secondhand that she wasn't mad at me at all. They couldn't hear my music, even at full volume, but they could hear Wayne yelling!!! And he sounded like a scary crazy idiot! Way to court people to your side, boo boo the white supremacist fool.

Once I knew for sure that I wasn't in trouble, though, holy shit yall. Getting Wayne to embarrass himself in front of such a crowd today is NOT something I could've predicted for myself. Top 10 in the Kelly Highlight Reel for ya boy today. I'll be riding off the sheer bliss of fucking up his day for years, probably.

Wayne IMMEDIATELY removed himself from the scene (or they told him to fuck off, who knows) so we didn't get anything more from him until the volunteers spotted him in his truck, stopping to talk to the cop. He had to drive directly in front of us to get out of the parking lot so I said, "hey let's say goodbye to Wayne!" and the four of us lined up and leaned on our cars and smiled big at him.

He rolled the window down and before we could say anything (we weren't going to) and he said in a sarcastic voice, "I know, I know, go fuck myself," and roared off, leaving us in hysterics, possibly the only funny thing Wayne has ever done in his whole life.

[westofessos]

For the amount that I talk about wrestling on here I don’t think I’ve ever actually said how I got so obsessed with it in the first place. So here’s that story:

So, it’s mid to late spring. For the first time in years, my dad has been watching wrestling. He quit watching WWE years ago, and never really liked that as much as he liked WCW before it went out of business anyway. He was sad about it, though, because he’s loved wrestling since he was a kid, and now there was no alternative. But now, in 2023, he was watching AEW, a company I had never heard of. And he was loving it.

At the same time, I was rewatching (and finishing for the first time) a show I started watching while it was coming out, but quit when it got a little too ridiculous for me: Once Upon A Time. But I was determined to finish it this time, because no matter how absolutely bonkers and ridiculous it was, I loved it. Still do.

So, there we both were, spending the spring and summer watching stuff nobody else would watch. And we had no one to talk about it with.

The first time we brought up each watching the other’s thing, we both thought it was a joke. I never in a million years thought he would watch OUAT, and he never thought I would watch wrestling. I had watched it with him when I was a kid, and played some of the wrestling games on the Wii, and watched the various Scooby-Doo crossovers, and listened to him talk about it for years, but he never thought it would happen. Both of us, however, were completely serious.

Cut to 55 days ago (yes, it has only been 55 days. It honestly feels like a lifetime though, because when I get truly obsessed with something, I go all in, learning everything about it and watching everything about it I can get my hands on, so it feels like I’ve been watching for years), I sit down with my dad to watch my first AEW show. It was a Collision. I know this because the first face I saw was Juice Robinson, cutting one of his pre-show promos, and that isn’t something you forget. I also watched a Dynamite that day, and my dad watched the pilot of OUAT.

In those first episodes, I saw some familiar faces, and heard about some other ones being there. I liked not starting from scratch. I knew who some of them were! I knew Chris Jericho (my dad’s all-time favourite wrestler), I knew Sting, I knew Dustin Rhodes (though only as Goldust), I knew Saraya (though only as Paige), etc. (there are many more but those are just off the top of my head).On that first episode of Collision (I don’t remember the exact moment or reason why), I saw another wrestler I knew, but one I never quite got acquainted with when I was a kid. I saw CM Punk for the first time.

And something in my brain in that moment just went ‘yep. Him. That’s the one. That’s your guy. If you’re going to have a guy, it’s going to be him.’ Yes, it was partially because I saw him and was extremely attracted to him. He’s a gorgeous man, what can I say? But then I heard him on the mic, and watched him in the ring, and I was hooked.

(Side tangent: this was on a Friday. The next day, Saturday, Collision was in my city and my mom had won four tickets on the radio [nothing ever comes to my city so this was exciting for everyone]. My dad was going with my brother because at this point, I didn’t care. I had plans on Saturday night. The same plans I have every single Saturday night, and very well could have skipped one time. But I didn’t, because even though at this point, after only one Collision and one Dynamite, I was on the verge of being hooked, I didn’t want to let my dad know it. I never would’ve heard the end of it [my parents are real dicks whenever I get emotionally attached to anything, and since they’ve found out about the wrestling obsession it’s been no different, as I knew it would be]. Well, that Saturday, in my city, CM Punk wrestled Samoa Joe for the third time and won. I will never, ever, forgive myself for missing it. Especially after I learned about their history.)

So I had a favourite. I loved (and still love) CM Punk. And after I learned of his support for the LGBTQ+ community and abortion rights, his love for comic books, and other stuff, I only loved him more (whether or not he’s a dick behind the scenes remains to be seen. From the stories I’ve heard, I’m inclined to say no, but who knows. We don’t know these people. He very well might be). But, it was only when the MJF/Adam Cole storyline kicked off that I truly got emotionally invested in the whole thing. Now, I have a whole list of favourite wrestlers and storylines, and very hard opinions on things. And, I’ve gone back to the beginning of AEW in 2019 and am watching every episode up until the one I started on (I just hit 2022 tonight!). Plus, I just watched my first PPV on Sunday, where I got to see both my favourite wrestler and the two that got me emotionally invested in wrestling (my 2nd and 5th favourite wrestlers, respectively) wrestle in front of over 80,000 people and make history.

And, no, my dad does not like OUAT. In fact, I think he kind of hates it. But we are having a good time watching it. And, when we finished season 1, he went back to my mom and the first thing he said was “magic’s back!!”, which is pretty fun (though I do kind of resent the fact that while I now have a new lifelong obsession, he just has a show he kind of hates to watch and then forget about).

But honestly, I don’t care. It brought me here, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. I’m so glad I found wrestling, and AEW specifically. It may have only been 55 days, but it already means so much to me.

Also, thank you to all of the people that have followed me because of this! I’ve never gained so many mutuals than when I started talking about wrestling. I appreciate all of you, and I’ve loved talking about wrestling with you, and I look forward to having further deep discussions and complete meltdowns every week.

[wondernimbus]

excuses — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

prompt: reader is dared to kiss a certain redhead. 

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

She sighs, clenches her fists, and steels herself for the inevitable and incredibly humiliating moment that is about to unfold in five, four, three, two, one—

Standing on her tiptoes, [Y/N] puts her hands on his shoulders and plants a kiss on his cheek as fast as humanly possible. As soon as she does, she pulls back, fast as lightning, and hurriedly explains herself. "It was a dare—I was dared, no, wait—blackmailed to do this and I didn't wanna risk it so—I know what you're thinking, Fred, and I don't like you. I mean. Not in that way. And I'm not a pervert either," she adds as an afterthought, finding herself breathless as she takes a step back and clears her throat awkwardly.

For a moment, Fred Weasley looks just as surprised at herself as she does. And then he starts laughing, which makes [Y/N] feel ten times more embarrassed than she already is. Although she can't see herself, she is still very much aware of the fact that her cheeks have turned a bright shade of red—perhaps almost as red as Fred's hair.

Just so she doesn't have to stand there awkwardly, she forces out a few timid laughs. Fred grins at her. "I'm sorry, [Y/N/N], but that's a very poor excuse," he says, and though his tone is teasing, there's still that underlying tone of you like me, don't you? Or maybe [Y/N] is just imagining it. Is she, though?

She bloody hates having crushes.

She rushes to defend herself—albeit not doing a very good job at it. "No—" she sputters out, feeling ridiculously helpless as she catches the eye of none other than Ginny Weasley, who is standing a mere few feet away looking severely amused. [Y/N] sends her a death look that she hopes to Merlin sends the message across: "I'm never forgiving you for this."

And forgive Ginny she will not. It's at times like these that she horribly regrets ever telling Ginny about her little crush on her older brother. Ever since [Y/N] had told her a month ago, Ginny hadn't stopped teasing her every chance she could get. This morning, it seemed that the evil side of her well and truly came out as she threatened to tell Fred about her crush if she didn't kiss him on the cheek. (Downright evil.)

Not willing to risk it, [Y/N] had decided that a tiny kiss on the cheek was slightly more doable than having to admit to the fact that she liked him. Him being Fred Weasley: the tall, ridiculously attractive redhead in her year who she only started talking to last year when she'd befriended his younger sister, Ginny. Ginny had introduced Fred and George to her briefly, and ever since then she'd developed a friendship with them. She wasn't extremely close with the twins—their friend groups were drastically different—but they were friends: she'd wave to them when she passed by them in the hallway, they'd tease her about random things whenever they felt like being annoying, and sometimes she'd even help them come up with prank ideas.

But while she'd become good friends with both Fred and George, there had always something about Fred that attracted her in a way that didn't seem to fit the "friends" spectrum. Sure, he and George were quite literally identical, but Fred just felt—different. She'd feel butterflies in her stomach whenever he'd sneak up on her and tug on her braid, singing "[Y/N]!" into her ear, after which she'd raise her eyebrows at him and go "How can I help you?" Or when he found out that she loved strawberries and made it a habit to take her strawberry-flavored food whenever he snuck down to the kitchens. Fred was something else; something that made her feel like a blushing, giggly little girl. Made her feel unlike herself.

And so here she is, a few moments after making an absolute fool out of herself, trying to explain to him that "No, listen to me, Fred, I was literally blackmailed. Now excuse me while I cleanse my lips ferociously."

She turns on her heel and speed-walks away, refusing to look back. She doesn't even wait to see if Ginny has caught up with her—what's important right now is getting away from Fred. And perhaps never showing him her face again. Because if he hadn't known back then that she'd liked him, then he certainly does now.

—

"He knows, Ginny," [Y/N] moans, burying her head into a cushion as she flops down onto the couch. "He knows."

The Gryffindor common room is empty save for her, Ginny, and a bunch of quiet first years doing their homework in the corner. It's raining outside, and if she wasn't so busy wallowing in her own self-pity, she'd be basking in the peaceful sounds the rain was making against the window.

"No, he does not," says Ginny matter-of-factly, perching herself on the arm of the couch with her arms crossed. "I can assure you that Fred is just about the most oblivious person ever. I'd know—I'm his sister."

"You heard him," she moans again, her voice muffled underneath the couch cushion she's practically stuffed her face into. "He said it was a bad excuse to kiss him—oh God, he knooooows."

The group of first years turns their heads to stare at her, looking genuinely concerned.

Ginny rolls her eyes and shoots [Y/N] a reprimanding look, which she is completely oblivious to due to the fact that she has her face buried in a couch cushion. "Even if he has noticed that you fancied him—"

"He has—"

"—then good! I've told you this a hundred times already but I will tell you again just in case this time I'm able to get it through your skull: he fancies you too. Maybe even more than you fancy him."

"Sure," she mutters, prying the cushion away from her face to stare into the fireplace and contemplate throwing herself in it. "Your brother doesn't find girls like me attractive. He likes sporty girls—girls like, I don't know, Angelina Johnson—"

"Like you're not sporty," Ginny pokes her leg. "You're on the bloody Quidditch team."

"Yeah, as a reserve!" she throws her hands in the air, sitting up properly. "Point is, I'm not his type. Have you seen the girls he's dated?"

"Girl," says Ginny. "Just one."

"Whatever. She is gorgeous—"

"But he didn't fancy her. She was obsessed with George, George didn't like her—"

"And so Fred pretended to be George for two months."

Ginny giggles. "Exactly. George literally paid him, [Y/N]. Which means Fred never liked that girl—he was paid six galleons and two knuts to date her."

She scrunches her nose, an involuntary pout settling on her face. "That doesn't prove anything," she says sullenly. "Doesn't fix anything, either—he still knows I like him. And he doesn't like me back."

Ginny looks like she wants to smack her in the face. "You are completely mistaken, [Y/N]," and then, just to get the point across, "Completely."

"Am not," she flops back down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling whilst looking utterly crestfallen. It only takes her a few seconds of silence before she starts up again: "He knoooooooooooows."

—

[Y/N] trudges into the Great Hall the next morning with Ginny walking next to her, constantly throwing her reprimanding looks every now and then as though to warn her not to start moaning "he knows" again. Weirdly enough, she doesn't look anything at all like she spent the entire night moping over Fred Weasley; to anyone's eye, she looks as cool and composed as she usually does. She's done her hair, concealed the bags under her eyes with a bit of make-up, and she's ready for a normal school day.

Except on the inside, she is in shambles. Seriously—shambles. She's been mentally whacking herself upside the head since last night; why did she have to look so flustered after kissing him? She could have played it off better and pretended it wasn't a big deal.. she could have pretended she was under the Imperius Curse..

[Y/N] and Ginny sit down at the Gryffindor table. Fred and George are nowhere to be seen—thank Merlin. Maybe luck is on her side today and the twins have decided to skip breakfast. Or maybe Fred just doesn't want to be in her presence after she kissed him yesterday. "Totally uncalled for," she imagines him telling George. "D'you think she's gone bonkers? Bloody pervert."

There's a hand waving in her face. She blinks once, then twice. Ginny drops her hand back down to her side and shakes her head at her. "Are you still thinking about Fred?"

"No," she snorts. Ah, the liar she is today. Ginny makes a face like "sure" and [Y/N] regrets ever letting Ginny get to know her well.

Breakfast in the Great Hall goes about as it usually does, except [Y/N] is a lot more preoccupied with her thoughts and Ginny has to tap her on the shoulder a few times during their conversation to ensure that she was paying attention. When Ginny pokes her for the seventh time, she sets her toast down on her plate and says: "Okay. You know what—forget it," she slams her palms down on the table, startling the two fourth-years sitting across from them.

"It's not a big deal. Alright, I was being daft and I kissed him and may have potentially revealed the fact that I fancy him—so what?"

Ginny raises her eyebrows, obviously surprised at the sudden turn of events.

[Y/N] keeps going, talking more to herself than anyone else. "Even if he does know, so what? I'll get over him even though he is just about the only boy I find attractive in this sch—"

Someone tugs on her braid from behind. "[Y/N/N]," a familiar voice sings. "Get up, I have something to tell you."

The world doesn't just hate her—it despises her. She realizes it at this moment.

As much as she wants to dive under the table and pretend like a certain redhead isn't standing behind her, she knows that she can't avoid him forever. So she steels herself, turns around in her seat, and flicks her eyebrows up at Fred out of routine.

"How can I help you?" she asks, and for the most part, her voice is level. She hopes to Merlin that the warmth spreading across her cheeks doesn't show.

"I've got something to tell you, I said," Fred tugs on her braid again. She pulls a face at him; he grins down at her. "Come on, then. Get up. Up, up."

She rolls her eyes and meets Ginny's gaze—she's wearing an all-knowing grin on her face. Shaking her head, [Y/N] swings her legs over the bench and rises from her seat. Even standing upright, Fred towers above her by a good few inches. He's smiling, and George is standing behind him, wearing a suspiciously wide grin on his face.

"Don't mind me," titters George, taking [Y/N]'s previous seat next to Ginny and swiftly snatching her buttered toast. ("Hey, that's mine!" says Ginny, outraged) "Listen to what Freddy has to say. Very important. Oh, yes."

She narrows her eyes at George, then at Fred, who shifts a little on his feet. "Have you come to confess your undying love for me?" she says jokingly, ignoring the sheer panic swelling in her chest. You're okay, she tell herself. Just fine. Just keep up the familiar, friendly banter—act the way you always do—you'll be fine—

Fred tilts his head to the side, feigning a look of contemplation. "Something like that," he decides, a whimsical smile on his lips. [Y/N] raises her eyebrows at him, ignoring the storm of butterflies flitting around inside her stomach.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

Fred's grin, if possible, widens. He shrugs one shoulder, then says in the same casual tone one would use when talking about the weather, "How would you feel if I kissed you, [Y/N/N]?"

Her mouth falls open in surprise.

"If you what now?" Did she hear that right?

Fred grins. She stares at him, searching his eyes—"This is a prank, isn't it?"

A part of her almost wants him to say yes, that's he's just pulling her leg and this is a ridiculous joke he and George came up with just for the laughs. But he bunches his lips up to one side and shakes his head. "Nope," Fred replies nonchalantly, and then his lips droop down a little as a touch of somberness sneaks its way onto his face. "Would you like it to be?"

She opens her mouth to reply, but no words come out. She is—although this is a severe understatement—stunned. She has to be dreaming—there is no way this is real life and she's standing in front of bloody Fred Weasley, who has just now basically asked if he could kiss her.

This is not real life. There is absolutely no way.

But the way her heart is pounding wildly in her chest feels too real.

"You see," Fred begins, once more grinning craftily, "I wanted to ask for your permission first. Didn't wanna come up to you and steal a kiss out of nowhere like they do in those Muggle movies—like a certain someone did to me yesterday."

He gives her a look full of meaning. She purses her lips, warmth quickly spreading across her cheeks as she scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. "I already apologized," she says, averting her gaze. "And I already told you I was blackmailed into doing it.. and besides, it was just a kiss on the cheek!" she adds hastily, sounding a little more defensive than she'd been intending. "It could have been worse.. it could have been on your.." she trails off, a rather prominent pink blush settling on her cheeks.

There's a fond little smile on Fred's lips as he listens to her—one that she doesn't quite notice because she's too busy drowning in embarrassment. "Anyways, I'm sorry," she mutters guiltily, raising her eyes to look at him again.

Fred shakes his head, patting her on the shoulder. At this, it's her turn to send him a look of feigned irritation. He beams back at her. "There's really nothing you should be apologizing for, [Y/N/N]," he reassures her breezily. "That kiss was quite enjoyable—although I have to say I am a little offended that you had to be blackmailed into kissing me instead of doing it because you wanted to."

She stares at him, eyebrows raised as she fights to maintain a neutral expression. Meanwhile, the gears in her brain struggle to figure out where exactly he's going with this. Is he saying what she thinks he's saying—that he actually liked that she'd kissed him?

"You still haven't answered my question, [Y/N/N]," Fred reminds her, wagging an annoying little finger in her face. She keeps her eyes on his, trying to read him. Behind the mischief glinting in his eyes, she thinks she can see a bit of sincerity—cautiousness, as though he's willing to back off if she wants him to.

She purses her lips, a whole tornado of emotions unfurling in her chest. "I mean," she says slowly, chewing on the inside of her mouth as she ponders a response. She can almost hear Ginny screaming "Kiss him!" inside her head, but her voice is drowned out by logical thinking. She doesn't want to seem too eager, and besides, just because he asked her how she'd feel if he were to kiss her doesn't mean that he will, necessarily—

"I wouldn't be totally opposed to it," she admits finally, her fists clenching beside her as she averts her gaze to look at anything but the ridiculously attractive redhead in front of her—goddamn it, Fred Weasley. Unable to help herself she glances at him; his lips have curled into a small smile, one that grows when she meets his eyes. Flushing, she huffs, "Well, you asked—"

Out of nowhere, he swoops in and lands a brief kiss on her cheek.

Someone—Ginny or George or both of them—squeals from behind her.

She blinks, momentarily startled as her brain struggles to register what the bloody hell just happened. Her mouth has fallen open slightly, and she blinks again, swallowing as she tries to make sense of the situation. Fred, meanwhile, has the audacity to actually look sheepish. He ducks his head in an attempt to conceal the faint red blush that dusts his cheeks, clearing his throat before letting out a laugh that was meant to sound flippant.

"Still not opposed?" he asks, arching his eyebrows. There's a goofy little smile on his face, and the exhilaration in his tone of voice does little to hide his giddiness, but at the same time the way his eyes dart over [Y/N]'s face searchingly—trying to deduct how she feels about the events that just unfolded—shows his slight uncertainty.

And how does she feel?

She lets out a long breath that she hadn't realized she was holding, trying to calm the butterflies—no, scratch that—the entire bloody zoo that has been unleashed inside her stomach. And then, because she's lost all ability to form words, she lets out a breathless laugh, shaking her head as she looks down at the ground.

"Well?" Fred prompts expectantly, leaning a little towards her anxiously. "Don't leave me hanging here, [Y/N]."

She presses her lips in an attempt to conceal the jubilant smile that tugs at them as she raises her head to look up at Fred. Urged on by the giddy feeling swelling inside her chest, she juts her bottom lip out, feigning a look of thoughtfulness as she pretends to ponder over it. And then, shrugging, she grins at him, eyes twinkling—"That wasn't all that bad."

The uneasy, expectant look on Fred's face is quickly replaced by one of relief. He exhales, tense shoulders relaxing as he grins right back at her, the same bright, mischievous glint in his eyes. "How would you feel about another one?" Fred suggests, tone hopeful as he takes a tentative step closer.

[Y/N] fights to keep on a stoic expression as she shrugs. "Wouldn't hurt, would it?"

George and Ginny break out into a chorus of squeals as Fred leans in for a second time.

read pt. 2 here!

[pseudofaux]

Pseu! I miss you, hope all is going well! Definitely a good night for a good drink!

How about some tipsy fun with Shigezane? 🥺🥺 maybe a 4 or 5? wreck me! Wait does he drink? Gosh I need to replay him.

Cheers!!❤❤❤

HEY, honey! Hello, I hope you are doing okay! What a bonkers year. 😫 I hope you are looking forward to your birthday! 💕💕💕

Shige DEFINITELY drinks, he gets straight up... “overtoasted” in a story or two. (my hero) SO LET’S WRECK YOU A LITTLE (with love)!

The watermelon frou frou drink you included looks sooooo yummy, I’m making this modern AU and putting it in. And thinking VERY HARD about the watermelon in my fridge.

CWs for: unprotected sex, Shigezane being criminally cute and having a perfect, totally bomb [REDACTED, TEXT IS PLACED BEFORE THE CUT]

totally bomb DICK, it’s his DICK, we all know it’s big

His name is Shigezane and he tastes like a sugar rim, the flirtiest sweetness she’s ever known. He smells sweet, too-- she thinks it’s Armani but can’t tell which one. It might be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking (she has the best buzz going, fun and still in control), but from his jokes and his touching her as they dance, it feels like he’d be an enthusiastic, gentle, appreciative lover.

She feels like she wants to find out if that’s true. Two more songs, she tells herself. If I still like him after two more songs, I’ll take him to my room. And aside from the thrill of that prospect, she’s hoping she still likes him after two more songs, because she likes him a lot right now. He’s made her laugh so much and his touches have all been warm and good, but not too much.

Just right. He’s Goldilocks.

(Okay, that’s got to be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking-- his hair is actually a pretty, soft brown that’s more silver than gold somehow. But he’s still just right. She wants to get her fingers in that hair. If he kisses so well he can distract her from the sugar rim of their watermelon shots when they’re pretty much in public, she has high hopes for what else he can do with his mouth when they’re alone.)

This reception has been fun. Ridiculous but happy, the height of happy beach summer to match the afternoon’s wedding. Bright flowers everywhere, a little umbrella in every drink. She’s tasted pineapple, watermelon, and coconut. It’s long past sunset now, but the dancefloor on the restaurant’s deck is close enough that they can hear the night waves, even the ones they can’t see.

There are even torches on the beach, and dark wood chairs in the sand. The bride and groom took pictures cuddling on one earlier, and she’d looked on with the rest of the bridal party and beamed for them. Was there anything as nice as a happy wedding? No demanding parents. Just happiness and love. 

Well. Maybe spending a happy wedding reception with a nice guy who was making those gray slacks work so well.

“You up for another dance?” he asks, and holds out his hand to her like something from a movie. She already knows how nice it feels to put her hand in his, and she needs to see what he does for the next two songs. So she puts her hand in his and says “Are you?” and totally smiles at him just because he smiles at her so big and bright.

He doesn’t do annnnnything to put her off for three songs. But before she can pull him aside to ask about going somewhere, he says “Hey-- you wanna walk on the beach?” and his glance is so sweet she’s not even mad at him for being so sweet and smooth before she could. His look isn’t shy or cocky. She looks at him for a moment just to soak in how damn cute he is, that soft brown hair all wind-mussed. And then she takes his hand again. 

They walk beyond the light of the torches, far enough down the beach that they’re in front of another restaurant’s slice of sand. The buildings on the land side are closed and dark. It’s not pitch black, but it is nighttime, and breezy. She’s glad the air is still summer warm.

“Oh no,” Shigezane says suddenly. There’s so much dread in his voice she’s worried there’s something dangerous on the beach with them.

She stops walking. “Uh... What’s wrong?” 

“Babe,” he says, gently tugging her hand. “There’s not a single person in any of these seats. Theses chairs are lonely.”

A sound stalls in her throat as she decides how lame that was, but he’s laughing and pulling her with him onto one of the beach chairs, and she goes. These are painted white, and they look soft and blue in the dark. Their bodies sit not very far apart at all on the lounger.

“I came out onto a dark, secluded beach, on a summer night... with a dork,” she deadpans, just like he did. He clutches at his heart and makes a show of her words wounding him.

“But,” she says, leaning the small space it takes to nudge him with her shoulder, “He’s a decent kisser.”

“Oh,” Shigezane says, now making a show of thinking over how that must change things.

“And he has a big heart for lonely furniture,” she whispers as she turns her body.

“Gigantic,” he whispers back. “Monumental.”

“Anything else gigantic you wanna tell me about?” she asks his mouth.

His exhale is sudden and gratifying to her. “Maybe, you know. Something reasonable,” he stutters. “Something reasonably sized--”

She kisses him again.

It’s not long before she’s straddling his lap, flowy dress bunched in his hands at her hips. She can tell from the promising stiffness she’s been grinding against that he was being modest, and she likes that. She likes him.

“I like you,” he says, and his head is tossed back but she’s watching everything she can see of his face, so she catches it. She smiles and puts a little kiss on his chin, just because he’s so damn cute.

“I like you, too,” she tells him. “But if I am going to cling to your shoulders--”

“Please cling to my shoulders. Oh my god. That’s really hot.” 

“Mmhmm. And if I’m going to cling to your shoulders,” she repeats, curving her palms over the tops of his shoulders and loving the muscle she can feel leading toward his back, “You’ll have to undo your pants yourself.”

“Ohhhh my god, okay, yes, absolutely,” he agrees, pushing himself up by the thighs, her grip on his shoulders and his hands holding her hips keeping her from falling. “Cling, babe. Please. I’m steady.”

She lets her hands really grip him and anchors herself with his body. He keeps one hand tight on her hip while the other works at the fly of those damn slacks. “Your ass looks good in those,” she tells him. “When we were spinning each other, I noticed.”

“Don’t make me blush,” he says, but even in the dark she can tell he already is, and smiling, too. He does whatever pulling needs to be done and sighs when his length is free. She can feel the warmth of it, like the sun hid a part of itself away for her to find in the dark.

It’s hard to decide if she wants to keep clinging (it is pretty hot, and she’s enjoying how solidly he’s kept her up by the strength of his shoulders and thighs), or touch him.

“Can I?” she asks.

“Doll, you can do anything you want,” he moans, head going back again. “Keep grinding, don’t grind, please just stay with me.” His hand goes back to her hip and he settles back down, waist of his pants high on his thighs. One day soon she wants to put her hands on his ass when he’s fucking into her, but here on the beach chair it would probably hurt. So she settles for grinding and kissing his Armani-scented jawline, following the cologne to the collar of the linen shirt he’s wearing. One hand stays close to his chest as she slides it down. Down. And then he’s wrapped by her hand and she cannot believe how smooth and thick this man’s dick is. What the hell. 

“I’m game to do more than grind if you are.”

“Fuck, Doll, anything you want, I meant it,” he says, weaving after her mouth as she playfully evades kisses. “But yes, hell yes. Very game. Atari. Dreamcast. Parcheesi.”

“Shut up, Shigezane.” She keeps a light grip as she begins to jerk him.

“I am never going to talk again,” he promises, and she laughs and kisses him and jerks him faster, and doesn’t call him on it when he starts chanting her name and curses and endearments. It’s better to let him, and focus on how damn good he feels in her hand. How good is he going to feel inside her? How would he feel in her mouth?

She has a nice little fantasy of going down on him in the kitchen of her apartment. Just lean him against the fridge-- mind the ice button, Shigezane-- and go to her knees. She thinks she could mouth the head of his cock for days, the skin of the rest of him feels so good.  “Gonna, soon,” he pants.

She leans forward and pulls in a deep breath of his cologne. She’s gotta find out what kind this is. “Well then you need to tell me,” she whispers, “where you want to be when you do.”

His answer is a series of swears but none of them are a location.

“How do you feel about cumming inside me?”

He looks at her like he cannot believe his luck. She likes that.

“Are you-- Yes, but... you’re okay...?”

“Are you clean?” she asks. “I do have a condom in one of my pockets.”

“Thought I could feel that,” he says, squeezing the dress fabric. “My god, you’re a dream.” He clears his throat. “I’m clean,” he says, more seriously. “But I’ll wear it.”

“Do you want to,” she presses.

“Uh, I am-- more than willing,” he sputters. “I think that’s clear?”

She laughs for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“Shigezane. How do you feel about cumming inside me?” she asks again. She presses him against the very wet gusset of her panties and holds him there so she can make herself even wetter. He’s so hot, and so cute, and his dick feels so good.

Goldilocks.

“I want you to be comfortable,” he says carefully.

“Then I want you in me. I’m lonelier than these chairs,” she tells him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, grinning. She shakes her head and grins right back.

She stands in the sand and holds up the gauzy material of her skirt. “Take ‘em off,” she says.

He says something dumb and cute about it being his pleasure but she can’t scold him for it because as soon as he slips her panties down he starts kissing her pussy and if she thinks about anything but staying upright she will fall into the sand. He lets the stretchy lace fall and puts his hands around her hips, no fabric between them this time, and pushes his tongue into the seam of her body. He finds her clit without any prompting and yes, he’s a good kisser.

“Later,” she gasps, desperate to put her hands in his hair but sure if she lets go of her dress he’ll try to hide in it and get her off. She’s going to get off anyway, she wants to do it with his dorky but perfect cock inside her. “Tomorrow. Tonight, fuck me.”

He groans and asks “How do you want it?” His hands trace up her sides as he stands up. She can feel him touching the fabric at her waist. She’s getting a little dumb and desperate at this point, the party and drinking and all their flirting and the smoothness of him in her hand swirling around in her bloodstream.

She looks around to make sure they’re really alone. Then she pulls her dress the rest of the way over her head and tosses it toward one of the other chairs. Her bra joins it. Shigezane is looking at her like he wants to worship her with his mouth and she knows it’s not a bad idea.

Thinking he’s probably come back from the precipice by then, she takes one of his hands and brings him with her as she stretches out on the only lounger with a cushion. It’s thin, but it’s better than nothing! She’s hoping he’s gonna knock her around a little.

She pulls him like he pulled her for a dance. When he gets on top of her he is  careful with his limbs. He murmurs how gorgeous she is, how he cannot believe he got to even talk to her.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” she tells him, reaching for him again and rubbing him slowly against her clit. He glides from how wet she is. If he does not put his cock in her soon she’s going to run into the ocean. “Now do more than talk.”

From the first amazing press of his body to hers, he really is just right. And when his mouth finds hers, he shows her again that he’s a very good kisser. Sweet as a sugar rimmed drink.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

Oh man!! But I love your snarky meme posts! Haha I think your right though, avoid discourse! I haven’t heard your thoughts in a while though, with 10x18 only a few days away now (finally, thank god), I would love to get a tiny dose of your lovely positivity!

tbh i’ve been full of so much dread and anxiety the past couple weeks, not because of the episode (still positive af about that), but because of the bad fandom energy (which, even when i am actively avoiding it still manages to seep into my line of sight 😒), but i was just talking to my partner about how fun it’ll be to watch twd from start to finish once the final season drops, and how much fun we had binge watching it originally (he’s who i started the show with), and i was reminded that the show used to actually be a good time. i had forgotten how much fun it was to watch with my partner and make dumb 30 rock references every five seconds, and laugh at parts that definitely weren’t supposed to be as funny as we made them (during the part when jadis threw rick into the pit with winston the art piece walker we laughed so hard people upstairs came down and asked, “aren’t you watching walking dead? what the fuck is so funny??”). that’s the energy i want to get back, and the energy i want to cultivate as we get through these bottle episodes and get into s11. caryl is on track to be canon, which is something i v rarely get in the things i ship, so added drama doesn’t bother me. and at the end of the day, what’s the absolute worst thing that can happen to caryl? they don’t go canon officially, which would be a drag, sure, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still have ten years’ worth of fandom content, and a community that can still have fun with it. (bc i know it’ll make ppl upset that i said that, i /do/ think it’ll be canon, but if by the end it turns out i was wrong i’m not gonna like, die or something. fic is always more creative and entertaining than the og source anyway, and we’ll always have that)

it’s kind of astonishing how unpleasant people can make a fun thing be, and for what? what does it accomplish? if your entertainment is no longer entertaining you, and is, in fact, making you bonkers on the internet, maybe it’s time to find something new to spend your time on, if only for your mental health. i want to unabashedly enjoy myself again. i want to write explicit porn and Extra(tm) af au fics, and i want to laugh inappropriately during heartfelt scenes bc walkers are falling off a cliff in slow motion and it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen. i don’t want to dread episodes anymore. why do i dread the show i use to escape my irl bullshit?? that’s so ridiculous!

i am brain crazy and, as of late, chronically physically ill, so real life is v often a fucking drag. i don’t need to bring that into the space i use to get a break from the heavy stuff. and ik i won’t always be able to. ik i’m gonna get stressed about plot stuff, and there are gonna be fandom things that’ll make me upset, but i am going to do my absolute best to be as positive as possible and have as much fun as i can, bc i watch this show bc i enjoy it, and sometimes i need to remind myself of that

so as for 10x18? bring it on. i know that it’s all going to be resolved (probably in like, two seconds, bc that’s the whole point of “diverged”, do ppl keep forgetting that??), and i know that daryl isn’t going to end up with this rando bc we literally have a spin-off (do ppl keep forgetting that??), so who cares if there’s tension? plots have conflict, my dudes, and mb it won’t always be conflict we like, but the fun thing about a tv show is that there is more content to come, and things can change on a dime. and besides, whatever we don’t like we can change on 9lives and ao3. i am hype, chill, and stanning my showrunner, and am just gonna ride the wave

and while i can’t make y’all do anything, i strongly suggest you do, too

-diz

[thiswasinevitableid]

94 for sternclay for the winter prompts??? Especially if trans stern because I love that for him:’) either nsfw or sfw, hope you have a wonderful day!!!!! Your writing is a gift

Thank you so much!  I went with NSFW, and Stern is indeed trans.

94. you overhear my ex mocking me for being single at a holiday party and introduce yourself as my SO with a kiss on the cheek but we’ve never spoken before 

The things he does to pay for culinary school. 

It’s not the catering gig that’s bothering him; he takes pride in making food at conferences and office parties better than expected. It’s the fucking red, white, and green uniforms they’re making them wear for this one. It’s hot, itchy, and he really would prefer to wear the winter sweater Thacker gave him last year. It’s rustic but festive. It’s also sitting in his car, because no one told him about these uniforms until he got here. 

You can’t spring a surprise uniform on a guy who’s 6’4 and 190 pounds. The vest digs into his stomach, the jacket is too tight, and the pants don’t cover his ankles. 

It’s too bad, this party is pretty fun to work. It’s for a big-name publisher looking to seem hip, so the band is good and the decorations don’t look like the Macy’s Parade puked all over the room. 

The meals aren’t sit down, more a five hour cocktail party with canapes on trays and a spread of food at the back. Barclay sets out a new plate of crostini, wondering if they have enough fruit for the evening, when someone taps his shoulder. 

“How can I help-”

“I need a refill.” James, his ex, smirks at him.

“Not the bartender.” Barclay picks up the empty tray. 

“So?”

“I stopped being the guy to refill your drinks when you dumped me. Go ask whatever poor sap you dragged to this to do it for you.”

“Poor sap? Barclay, you sound like one of those boring mysteries you always read.”

“I’m trying not to swear, I’m at work.”

“Too bad you left me-”

“You broke up with me”

“-You could be enjoying the party instead of serving lukewarm food in a ridiculous outfit. Then again, looking like a clown suits you.”

“Man, c’mon.” Barclay can’t get into it here, James is absolutely the kind of guy who will use it to get him fired.

“Not surprised you haven’t found someone who wants to put up with your whole puppy-dog routine. What good is all that bulk if you’re just a pus-”

“There you are.” An arm snakes around Barclays waist and he freezes. James stands up straight, plastering on a smile.

“I wish I’d know ahead of time this is where you were working tonight. It feels wrong to be out mingling when you’re stuck back here. Oh well, next year.” A soft kiss lands on his cheek and in his surprise he turns to look at it’s source. 

The man is almost his height, trimmer and dressed in a black suit with a blue and silver tie. He’s blue eyed, with jet black hair slicked back and a face that puts every movie star Barclay can name to shame.

Barclay has no fucking clue who he is, or if he’s mistaking Barclay for someone else. He doesn’t seem drunk enough for that. 

“Mr. Stern, it’s an honor to meet you, I, uh, this-”

“This must be the ex you told me about, right, big guy?” Mr. Stern sets a protective hand at the small of his back.

“Uh, yeah. Babe, this is James.”

“So, where at Penguin do you work?”

“I, um, oh, look, someone is calling me. Bye, Barclay, nice seeing you again.”

The hand doesn't leave his back until James is out of sight.

“I’m sorry. He was harassing you and that seemed like the fastest way to make him stop.” Mr. Stern is still standing proud, but his voice is now softer, almost shy. 

“That’s, uh, that’s totally fine. I really appreciate the help. Kinda surprise you saw flirting as more appealing than, like, pretending to be my boss or something.”

“He’d know I wasn’t, trust me. And don’t sell yourself short, Barclay.” Blue eyes lock onto him and scan all the way to his feet, “even a bad fitting uniform can’t hide what you have you offer.”

“Th-thanks.” He’s either going to hide behind the serving tray or ask this guy to take him home and he’s not sure which will reinforce Jame’s “puppy dog” taunt more.

The other man, sensing his discomfort, steps back, “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I know better than to flirt with someone who’s at work and can’t escape. I shouldn’t keep you from doing what you need to do.”

“I get off at nine.” He thwacks the tray over his mouth, “ow. Uh, and I don’t mind talking to you. If you want to. I, uh, I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend this whole party chatting with the help instead of having fun.”

A sigh, “I should go mingle. It’s really okay if I come back?”

“Yeah.” Barclay smiles. There’s no way this guy is coming back; if he’s here single, he’ll have a date in the next five minutes. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s standing a respectful distance away and asking Barclay how this compares to other parties he’s worked.  

“Middle-ground. It’s not the one time I got to work my friends art gallery opening, and it’s not the wedding where someone tried to deck the bride with the chocolate fountain.”

“Oh my lord.” 

“I was in the line of fire and was washing chocolate out of my beard for an hour.”

“No one at home to do it for you?” It’s not subtle, and nor is the glance he gets over the rim of a cocktail glass. 

“Some things I’d rather not ask Mama’s help on.” 

“You still live with family?” There’s no judgement in that smooth voice, just genuine curiosity.

“Oh, no, Mama’s my...I mean she’s technically my boss but she’s also my friend, almost like an older sister. I live above where I work because she owns the whole building and takes in staff rent-free when she can. It’s nice working at her place, since I can cut my hours doing this.” He gestures to the nearby table of season fare, “which does mean I missed the attempted kabob-maiming last week. Relatedly, I’m happy this isn’t an all you can drink party.”

“You and me both. Two years ago Dean Koontz threw a punch. I think it was--oh, um, excuse me, work calls.”

This time, Barclay allows himself a moment of ogling as Stern walks away.

They pick up where they left off when the other man comes back, leading Barclay to mention he’s a cook at Amnesty Lodge .

“Wait, really? I love the Lodge, the food there is incredible.”

Barclay’s skin matches his terrible red pants, “Thanks. The head chef has been letting me do more of the menu and I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be. It’s perfect, although it’s a pity you being in the kitchen means I haven’t seen you sooner.”

He tries to say thank you again, but it comes out a garbled squeak

“Was that too far?”  

“Nope. Uh, it’s uh, just that I’m out of practice flirting or, like, getting compliments. They were pretty thin on the ground in my last relationship.”

“I see.” He’s learning to watch Stern’s eyes rather than the rest of his face, which hardly ever changes from it’s calm, professional set. Said eyes drip with disapproval. 

Old habits of defending people--even ones who are dicks to him--kicks in, “I mean, he kind of has a point. No one wants to date a six foot puppy. Guys like me are supposed to be all in-charge and shit like that.”

Stern raises an eyebrow, “maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Got any ideas on where I, uh, should be looking?” He takes a half-step towards Stern, standing up straighter. Stern doesn’t move an inch, but gives him a proud smirk. The pride is directed at Barclay.

“Lots. And I’ll share them as soon as you’re off the clock.”

“Don’t I even get a hint?” Another step.

“No, Barclay, you don’t. You’ll just have to show me you can be patient.” His tone changes, laced with the promise of a hidden prize that Barclay will do anything to earn. 

He just manages to whisper out “okay” as Stern is called away again. When he comes back, Barclay setting out clean plates and more silverware. They talk about restaurants, about Barclay’s friends and all the ways he tries to help them. Barclay endeavors to not go into full begging mode in public by looking at Sterns wrists rather than literally anywhere else on his body.

“What are those things in your cufflinks?”

“The Hodag. It’s a cryptid from Northern Wisconsin, and a really excellent example of completely fabricated cryptid that nevertheless goes on to have a life of it’s own. It’s very common in small towns, since if it goes well it acts a tourist draw. In fact, there’s some indication that even the Loch Ness Monster began as just such a hoax and-” He snaps his mouth shut, clears his throat, “sorry, I try not to talk shop at these things. It, um, tends to get on people’s nerves.”

“But I wanted to hear the rest. I mean, I have a high info-dumping tolerance because of one of my friends, but also you clearly know your stuff and I have no clue about any of it so please keep talking?”

Stern’s face is full of excitement, and he grows more animated as he talks. It’s the cutest goddamn thing Barclay’s ever seen, and he saw Dr. Harris Bonkers, his friend’s rabbit, as a baby bunny in a bow-tie. 

He clocks out two minutes after nine, and Stern is waiting for him near the doors to the staging room. 

“Are those the only clothes you have with you?”

“No. I have nicer stuff in the car that I planned on wearing.”

“Go get it. Here, I’ll walk down with you so you won’t have trouble getting back in the building.”

After jogging to his car while Stern waits for him in the gold and silver tinseled lobby, the older man guides him to an elevator. He’s pretty sure Stern is older than him; he’s a big deal, but not in some sort of prodigy way, which means he needed some time to get so well-known. 

They’re so busy coming up with Cryptid-themed ice cream flavors that Barclay doesn’t notice the floor number until they step out into a darkened hall.

If Stern brought him up here so they could have a quick fuck, he’ll jump for joy. 

“My office is this way. I figure you might like changing not in front of your co-workers or in a bathroom.”

Damn it, why does he have to be considerate instead of horny?

The office Stern brings him to is modestly sized with a huge bank of windows on the one side, facing out over the city. From here he can see apartments, stores, restaurants, all lit up in festive colors, trees dotting the little boxes of light. 

Stern locks the door, leans back against it, and nods at the clothes in Barclays arms, “Put them on.”

“Here?” He eyes the wide windows, the fact that the other man makes no move to leave or turn around.

“Yes.”

He manages, around the heart trying to hammer up his throat, “Are, uh, are you gonna watch?”

“Do you want me too?” There it is, the immediate softness in his voice, and Barclay understands that if he says no, he’ll have his privacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He reaches for the vest, gets the first button and goes for the second in a hurry. 

Stern raises his hand in a ‘pause’ gesture, “Slow down.”

“Yes, yes Mr. Stern.”

A gentle laugh, “Not quite, big guy. Were we anywhere else, I’d tell you to call me Joseph. But here..” he tucks his hands casually into his front pockets, “here you call me sir.”

“Fuck”  Barclay battles himself to keep his pace slow, needing to be good but also so turned on he’s afraid he’ll start humping the furniture. He forces himself to wait a count of two between each button, gets his vest and shirt off without further instruction. Stern watches him the entire time in silent appreciation. His shoes and pants are more awkward to take off while standing, and he braces himself on the desk, not wanting to sit without permission. 

Then he’s standing there in nothing but his black boxers and the lights of town, laughter floating from the party while Stern studies him like a menu. 

“Fold every and set it on the chair.” 

He follows orders, boggles at getting hard from someone telling him to fold laundry. Jesus, Stern hasn’t even touched him. Is he even planning to? Barclay can’t decide which option he likes better. He returns to his spot in front of the desk, hands folded in front of him. 

“Should I, uh, get dressed, sir?”

Stern pushes off the door, walking casually over like a shopper regarding a display, “That depends; do you want to do back to the party with your cock hard enough to hammer nails?”  He glances down, then back up with a pointed stare. 

“N-not really.”

Stern raises an eyebrow. 

“Not really, sir.”

“Then we’ll have to do something about it.”

“Are you sure we should do it here?”

“Barclay, if we get caught, I’ll be twice as mortified as you. I’m only doing this because we’ve got this whole floor to ourselves.” He cups Barclay’s cheek and the sighs, rubbing his face against a warm palm. 

“Okay sir, I trust you.”

A moan curls up between them as Stern’s other hand runs along his chest.

“Good boy. You like to be good, don’t you, Barclay? You like taking care of people?” 

“Yes, so much sir, please, lemme be good to you.”

Joseph strokes his face, “That’s very thoughtful, Barclay. But I think it’s been awhile since someone took care of you. Would you like me to do that?”

“Please, sir.” The response is pulled from him, one of the many parts of him aching magnetically to be near to Stern. 

The other man shoves his right hand down Barclays boxers, sliding his thumb over the head once before stroking steadily up and down. 

“Holy fuck” Stern gasps, “a guy could have a lot of fun with this thing.”

“It’s all yours, sir.” 

Fuck, where did that come from?

Stern groans, tips his head to kiss across Barclays chest, murmuring as he does, “Is that what you want, Barclay? You want this” he speeds up until Barclay’s hands fly to the edge of the desk, keeping him from dropping to the floor, “to be mine?”

He whines, nodding.

Stern’s hand stops.

“Yessir”

It starts up again, “what else do you want, big guy?” He’s still kissing all over his upper body, tone nonchalant.

“You, sir, I wanna fuck you or, or you can fuUUUck me if you want, not very good at bottoming-”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Stern lightly pinches his nipple, “what else?”

“I want to blow you, and, and FUCK, I bet you’re a fucking great kisser and I want you to fucking boss me around as much as you want, wanna wear a collar, a blue one, ohfuck” Barclay scrapes his nails along the woodgrain, “fuck, sorry, that was weird-”

“No, say more” his grip tightens and to Barclay’s surprise he’s panting, “tell me everything you want, even it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

“I want, fuck, to be tied up and told how good I am, want to wear something stealth sexy out in public, want to fuck in a cabin” his mouth is fully ahead of his mind, which is concentrated entirely in his dick right now, “want to eat at every five star place in the city, want to drag you places by that fancy tie, have a new car, buy any cookbook I see, I want, oh fuckohfuck, sir, I wanna cum please, want to so bad.”

“You can cum whenever you like, big guy. But you have to kiss me while you d-” 

He cuts Stern off with a kiss, clinging to his shoulders and pouring desperate, deep sounds down his throat. Stern kisses back with precision and a pleased moan when Barclay cums in his boxers. 

Stern eases his hand out and Barclay flops against him, face buried in his neck as he rumbles out a thank you. 

“D-do you want me to blow you, sir?”

Stern kisses below his ear, “Yes, but that’s not doable right now. Unlike you, I don't have a change of clothes, and something tells me you’re a, um,” he bites Barclays ear, “messy eater.”

“Only when I’m enjoying myself, sir.” 

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, unless it helps you come down.”

“I’m okay, Joseph. Heh” he smiles, inhales a minty cologne, “I like that name. It’s classic.”

“Thanks, I picked it myself.”

Barclay chuckles, snuggles closer while ignoring the sticky underwear. 

“You know, I can give you everything you want. If you want me to.”

“Some of those are really fucking expensive, babe.”

“You really have no clue who I am, do you?” Stern steps back, moving to the other side of the desk and pulling out a packet of wet-wipes, sliding one across to Barclay before cleaning his hands.

“A really cute guy who should let me take him to dinner?” Barclay pulls down his underwear to clean the cum from his stomach.

“Ever heard of Lucky Park?”

“No fucking way. I man, I know it’s a pen name, but there’s no fucking way, a guy who’s never off the NYT Bestseller list wouldn't fuck a nobody cook.”

“If the cook was hot and interesting to talk to he would. The kitchen skills help a little.” Stern winks

“But you wrote The Peregrine Quintent,  and Red Dust, jesus christ your stuff has been movies.”

“Now you see why James was so startled; I’m Penguins golden goose. That’s why I even have time to write books on cryptids; they know to indulge me. Plus I put out at least a book every two years for them and it always makes a fortune. Do you need to sit down? You look kind of lightheaded.”

“I’m fine, uh, just trying to make sense of it all. Also I can’t sit down unless you want my bare ass on your chair.”

“Another time. I guess you’re going commando for the rest of the party, but I think you can handle it, big guy.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He grabs his pants and pulls them on, “holy fuck, this can’t be real, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Barclay” Stern touches his arm, “it absolutely makes sense. I had so much fun talking with you, you’re such a, um, a sweetheart. And you’re built like a wet dream. If, um, if this is too much too soon, tell me to back off but I, I’m serious. I can’t remember the last time I got butterflies like this around someone, or wanted to buy things or do things just to make them smile. You clearly look after so many people in your life; will you let me look after you, at least for a little while?”

“You really want to?”

“Unlike some people, I like big men with a gentle center. You can be my six foot puppy any time. Wait, hold on, that, um, that came out weird.” Stern giggles and Barclay, now dressed, pulls him into a kiss. 

“I get it, babe. You wanna go show me off?”

“Of course. I’ll get my camera ready; we have to record your exes reaction.” Stern kisses his cheek, “after all, maybe this will teach him to know a good man when he sees one.”

[majicmarker]

so i’ve had a lot on my mind lately — the good, the bad, the ugly, you know the drill. i’m used to the bad and the ugly, but i think (and ofc by my therapist’s rec) i need to give a little credit to the good, too. not to mention the good is largely comprised of people, and those people deserve a sports stadium wave, yk? idk shit abt sports, whatever, but i know what the wave is and it’s like the grandest gesture i can think of, SO

listen, y’all. to get real here, i hate fandom. my time spent therein has been hit-or-miss, but the misses got me hard and contributed to some major self-loathing, etc etc. we’re not gonna get into the specifics, i don’t owe that to anyone, but suffice it to say things got Rough.

but so much of it can be so, so good. and rn i want to keep on my rose-colored glasses, and the rosiest parts for me have always been @kitten1618x and @mygutsforgarters

(quite a few others, too, but i no longer have everyone’s info. and some ppl are newer friends, or relationships that have moved more slowly. i have mad love for u guys too, obvs, but ik melissa and gus irl so we know each other More and they’re who this post is rly about atm. pls know i don’t want to harsh on anyone’s feelings)

the tl;dr version of events is i met them both via fanfic. i happened upon theirs like “bitch!!!! **i** wanna do this, they’re bomb as hell” and then i made them be friends w me. they’ll tell you they wanted to be friends w me first, but that’s not important bc **i** am the one making this post, so they can both like,, suck it.

ANYWAY.

@ melissa : so bitch listen. here’s the thing abt melissa…… i found her while browsing jonsa fic back when i cared abt GOT, and she brought me back to what i loved so much abt romance when i first started, way back in junior high, what’s up. i bad a fascination w historial romantic epics for a loooooong time — those formative yrs, amirite ladies??? — but girl i could never write it so well as melissa. immediately she struck this balance between the drama you expect from historicals and the levity of a good romance, and i was just like, “hand to god this woman must be published already, surely???”

(she’s not, but that’s ridiculous so we’re gonna skip that)

(also she’s busy?? we’ve been friends for like six years and i will never know how many kids she actually has, but the point is she’s a goddamn superhero and i’m obsessed w her, MOVING ON)

i just Had to be her friend for two reasons: 1) she’s too talented, and b) i have said that abt 2 ppl my entire life and she was the first, so i was like, “AH YES MY HOLY GRAIL”

so ofc i slid into her DMs just as effectively as that one guy i had a crush on when i was sixteen and he’s still shooting me texts every valentine’s day bc of the societal pressures i guess (it is Far Less Effective these days, he’s my age and therefore too young for me, gross, but i digress), except me and melissa go way stronger.

she reminded me of why, half a lifetime ago, i started writing romance — bc it’s fun, bc i want to. bc i can do absolutely anything i want, bc who else is gonna read it but me and whoever i share it with? it was all up to me what i wanted to do with it, and i could do anything. nothing really mattered but what i wanted, and i hadn’t felt that way abt anything in such a long time — let alone abt something i used to love so much.

melissa’s writing is so beautiful, it’s everything i wanted to achieve when i was fifteen and never got around to perfecting. and i’m totally okay w that now, bc what do i need to do myself that she’s not already doing/wants to do in the future? when i found melissa’s writing i found a missing part of me — a part i’d maybe lost, maybe i gave it up, idk, but it was totally gone until i found her fics and they fucking clicked. i had to reach out bc there was a part of me that was a part of her, and she helped me find that again w/o even knowing it.

so i found melissa via GOT, and from the start she’d been trying to get me to write some bethyl. years and years, she dropped not-so-subtle hints — and by “hints,” i mean legit directives that i watch just enough TWD to write her some beth/daryl fic. real crafty, she is.

eventually the stars aligned: i was bored w the same dynamics i’d been writing for years, i wanted smthn new, i was restless, i was line editing a bethyl fic she’d written, and — again — this shit clicked. her fic made me want to explore this dynamic i’d never done before, so i watched the prerequisite episodes (no more than that tho, i super hate the show and i’m begging y’all to not @ me abt it anymore). i found smthn that i’d been missing, smthn that challenged and excited me and brought me back around to why i love romance and, more importantly, why i want to write it myself.

so as i was starting to write bethyl, i was poking around the ao3 tag to get a feel for what had been done, what hadn’t, anything i might be missing. and goddamn BAM —

@ gus : this is where u enter dramatically thru a red velvet curtain that i don’t wanna touch (Metaphorically bc you do romance better than me and i’m cool w that bc your talent simply Cannot be touched, and Literally bc i hate velvet) — i was like, “please for the love of god let her want to write contemporary romance, i need some good fckin food”

i happened upon “doo wah diddy diddy” first. ofc the summary hooked me, forget my usual hard no against pregnancy fics (i have issues w pregnancy and that’s all anybody Needs to know, back off), but This Bitch !!!!!!! has a way with words and i wanted to be friends w her straightaway. lmao too bad for her, now she’s stuck w me

gus’s fics gave me what i wanted without having to write it myself. her style is so distinctive, she hits the notes between porn and Actual Affection that is missing from uhhhh, every romance i’ve tried?? (why is everyone so intent on the sex part?? fckin chill. at best it’s unrelatable and at worst u sound like u’d rather wear someone than fuck them, check urself)

she writes w such care, she wants you to know what she’s doing here, and what she’s doing here is combining the physical and emotional needs of both characters w/o infringing on anyone’s comfortability. you root for these characters bc they simply want to be together, no strings (and if there are strings, damn, they talk abt it).

gus makes you believe in love in the modern age. like, not to sound like one of those ppl who post fckin “no one in this generation knows how to love!!!1!!11!!” memes on facebook, those are dumb, but gus’s writing made me think “yeah man, love ain’t dead, it’s just abt how we approach it.”

(if y’all haven’t guessed yet, i have some hang-ups abt relationships. i’ve goddamn earned those. but melissa and gus both brought me back to where i needed to be — in this place where, yeah, we’ve got some shit to deal with, but we all still deserve the things we want, and those things are achievable. i could not have gotten here without them, so jot that down.)

gus is Real, she’s funny, she’s unapologetic in the way she writes. ofc she has her personal hurdles, but who doesn’t?? and tbh nobody writes a sex scene like gus does. physical, realistic, but balanced w the emotional depth that makes you root for these characters bc you can Feel how much they want each other — not just sexually, but in the less-erotic aftermath of that passion. it continues to blow my mind, bc i’ve never seen anyone do what she does. i can’t even pinpoint the specifics, bc she just… Does It. and you’re reading it like “yeah bitch that’s it,” and That’s It.

it’s fckin wild.

these two — my best friends, the lights of my life, both of whom always make me crave chicken tenders at THE most inconvenient hours bc somehow we always talk abt chicken or ice cream or ultimately DQ, but they're both so hot idec — have something special.

i really, really want them both to know that: it’s not just in how they’ve treated me as a friend, but who they are as people, in their creative pursuits. i’ve never known support the way they’ve shown me; i’ve never known this much enthusiasm or investment or belief that i can do what i want with my talent. i want them to know that i feel the same way abt them and their works.

sometimes, when i look back at their writing that completely kicked my ass, i still can’t believe that they’ve become two of my best friends. it’s totally bonkers. they’re This Talented, and they wanna be friends w my spastic ass? GIRL. i’m out.

i’m not always the best at being present, at giving people what they need when they need it. but with everything that melissa and gus have given me in the past few years, i need them to know this — honey!!! i need all y’all to know this, bc i know fandom shit is hard, but you should know some of these friendships are so, so worth all that bullshit, so —

they have so much to give, so much to say, so much to offer. i could not have kept going without them. i couldn’t believe in myself without the faith they’ve given to me. i hope that i can always give that same faith right back.

and that, babes, is what real soulmates are all about.

[tvmoviechristmas]

Hi Kacey! Love your blog. A top 10 blog if there ever was one, for sure. I was just wondering, if you could schedule a day's worth of made-for-TV Christmas movies, what would those movies be? xoxo, definitely not the Kacey who writes this blog

Hello there, Kacey (who is definitely not me). Great question. Did you know I have been thinking about this exact question a lot??? Because I have. There’s a lot to consider when you think it. Do you just schedule your twelve favorite Christmas movies? Do you put into consideration what time of day movies are airing? Do you go for variety or programing coherence? Do I lean heavily on the movies that got me into made-for-TV Christmas blogging or is that too old school?

After a fair amount of thought, here is what I came up with. I am starting the day at 6:00 PM because in my vision this is a Friday night o Saturday venture that starts when a person comes home from work. (Have I mentioned that I put too much thought into this?)

KACEY’S DAY OF MADE-FOR-TV CHRISTMAS MOVIES

6:00 PM - 8:00 PM EST - Debbie Macomber’s Mrs. Miracle (Hallmark, 2009) - Debbie Macomber’s Mrs. Miracle isn’t the movie that put Hallmark on the map (that was The Christmas Card). However, it is the movie that made me pay attention to what the channel was doing. A sweet little Mary Poppins tale about regret, loss, moving on and forgiveness. It’s been rare to see a movie in the years since that let its characters and relationships be as messy and flawed as they are allowed to be here. Even so, the movie loves them and wants the best for them and it’s genuinely affecting because of it.

8:00 PM - 10:00 PM - My Christmas Love (Hallmark, 2016) - In ten years I have run this blog, no new movie premiere surprised me quite like My Christmas Love did. The premise sounds goofy, but the execution is absolutely exquisite. In the ten years I have written for this blog, no movie has earned my love quite like this one. It is the fun, fluffy, slightly ridiculous romantic comedy that you come to this genre for. For my money not only is it the best made-for-TV Christmas movie of the 2010s, it deserves some consideration for being one of the best romantic comedies period. 

10:00 PM - 12:00 AM - Christmas Under Wraps (Hallmark, 2014) -  My opinion that Christmas Under Wraps is the best Candace Cameron Bure Christmas movie has come under fire before on this blog. But you know what? I stand by it. I rewatched it last month and had a delightful time. The movie has so much -- the first Schrodinger’s Santa, small town business practices that make no sense, a gruff male romantic lead who originally does not like the small town intruder, a character played by Candace Cameron Bure that you can assume actually had sex with her love interest (upon rewatch, I believe this to be true, they spend the night together) and so on and so forth. There is not a trope that Christmas Under Wraps skips during its runtime, and that is what makes it a delightful time. It is the ultimate Hallmark Christmas movie.

12:00 AM - 2:00 AM - Christmas in Boston (Freeform, 2005) - Put this one down as another seminal movie in the Kacey Christmas Canon. I owned this on DVD. I used to rewatch it every year (before life got too busy to really watch made-for-TV Christmas movies for fun). It’s cheesy. It’s implausible. It features so many people making their lives so hard for themselves, and I loved it dearly. Maybe I’m just a sucker for mystery pen pal romance set at Christmas. I do consider The Shop Around the Corner to be a top five romantic comedy after all.

2:00 AM - 4:00 AM - A Smoky Mountain Christmas (ABC, 1986) - You can’t program a day’s worth of Christmas movies without including Dolly Parton. The most fun of her movies is the 1980s-tacular A Smoky Mountain Christmas. It’s a Snow White tale filled with big hearted celebrities, orphans just wandering around town, evil witches, grumpy mountain men and a ton of absolutely charming chaos. It’s the most pure fun Dolly Parton has ever been, and even though it’s been years since we first saw it, my baby sister and I still make jokes about it to this day.

4:00 AM - 6:00 AM - Christmas Belle (ION, 2013) - I first watched Christmas Belle on the day of a final when I needed a break from studying. It was 4 AM, and I could hardly believe what I was seeing. It’s a movie so bonkers and so poorly made that it circles around to being captivating. The definition of so bad, it’s fun... there is nothing better to fill in the 4 AM slot.

6:00 AM - 8:00 AM - Christmas at Water’s Edge (Lifetime, 2004) - I have never felt more cockblocked by a movie’s ending in my life than I did after watching Christmas at Water’s Edge. It has been over eight years since I watched it, and the pain of that ending still stings. I have had trust issues about angel-human romance stories ever since. Still, every moment leading up to the bittersweet ending is tropey fun. And maybe, there is something to the saying, “Always leave them wanting more.” I figure this movie is perfect for the 6 AM slot because the sense of bittersweet despair you feel will wake you up better than any old cup of coffee could.

8:00 AM - 10:00 AM - To Grandmother’s House We Go (ABC, 1992) - We are now in the “programming for kids!!!” part of my scheduling block. If you want to get your kids into the made-for-TV Christmas genre, it’s hard to go wrong with an Olsen twins movie. It was certainly one of my gateway drugs for becoming a made-for-TV Christmas fan. Well, that and...

10:00 AM - 12:00 PM - Snow (Freeform, 2004) - My life would be different if it were not for Snow. I watched so many shitty Tom Cavanagh shows because 12-year old me had such a crush on him in Snow. I watched so many shitty made-for-TV Christmas movies trying to reach the warm, fuzzy feeling Snow gave me back in the day. Whenever I am trying to get a youth into the genre, Snow is usually my go-to pick of a movie, and you know what! It’s worked! Because that is the magic of Snow.

12:00 PM - 2:00 PM - Christmas with Holly (ABC, 2012) - There are many tragic haircuts in this movie, which is an absolute shame. But outside of that, Christmas with Holly is a great. It tackles serious subjects without being maudlin, and features a romance you can buy into. Though I may be a sucker for a movie that prominently features a child character who chooses not like to talk to people, because I was also that kid once upon a time. (*insert joke here about how now I don’t shut up now*)

2:00 PM - 4:00 PM - Marry Me for Christmas (UP, 2013) - I would not have guessed it at the time, but Marry Me for Christmas launched UP’s signature franchise about the yearly holiday shenanigans of the Chandler family. While the sequels have been more miss than hit, the original is so much fun that you can get why everyone wanted to return to the well here. It’s a fake dating story that is willing to mess around with the tropes to fun and delightful results.

4:00 PM - 6:00 PM - Window Wonderland (Hallmark, 2013) - Paul Campbell is my favorite Hallmark lead, and no movie has used him as well as Window Wonderland did. It is also one of the few movies that Hallmark has made that has done my favorite romantic comedy trope--rivals who fall in love!-- right. After a full day of Christmas fun, I think this is a good ending point of a marathon.

So there you have it. A full day’s worth of made-for-TV Christmas movie viewing. Though, honestly, I could probably program a week’s worth of movies... there is a lot to see. So as a bonus, here are ten more movies to watch, in alphabetical order:

Christmas Bow, The (Hallmark Movies & Mysteries, 2020) - My favorite new movie of the year and the epitome of what an ideal Hallmark Movies & Mysteries movie should allegedly be.

Christmas Romance, A (CBS, 1994) - This blog would not exist if Olivia Netwon-John did not help a sheep give birth during a blizzard on Christmas Eve.

Dear Secret Santa (Lifetime, 2013) - It’s The Lake House. It takes place at Christmas. What more does anyone need to say?????

Matchmaker Santa (Hallmark, 2012) - If Christmas Under Wraps was Candace Cameron Bure’s best Christmas movie, than Matchmaker Santa is Lacey Chabert’s. I wish more movies had Santa magicking up bears to create romance.

Mrs. Santa Claus (CBS, 1996) - Angela Lansbury stars as Mrs. Claus in an absolute bonkers musical.

Picking Up & Dropping Off (Freeform, 2003) - It may not be all that Christmas-y, but the Liz Phair montage in this movie has stuck with me for decades. Also Scott Wolf stripping during a weather report as a culmination of a character arc. Back when it was ABC Family, Freeform was reliable in putting out quality made-for-TV movies and that is my nostalgia talking most likely!!!

Road to Christmas (Hallmark, 2018) - Chad Michael Murray is strangely great at pining. Also Hallmark’s first subtextual gay couple. (But the subtext is so heavy, you’d be surprised it wasn’t text.)

Snowed Inn Christmas (Lifetime, 2017) - Andrew Walker is wasted on the Hallmark Channel, but this Lifetime movie manages to make him charming (by making him an asshole) in this rivals to lovers romance.

12 Dates of Christmas (Freeform, 2011) - My favorite of Freeform’s Groundhog Day style Christmas movies that they would churn out once every five years or so.

12 Men of Christmas (Lifetime, 2009) - It’s not that Christmas-y. But it is the movie where you will see the most amount of shirtless men. The view is his penis.

[oliviaadamswrites]

Plus Signs - Chapter 10

[Part of Souvenirs Series] [Read via AO3]

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Prompt: Chris and his new lady brought back a souvenir from Disneyland and now begins the fun of telling their families. Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut... all the things. Word Count: 7,086

[<<< Chapter Nine] [[<<< Chapter One]]

CHAPTER NOTES: This chapter has been years in the making. Literally. It has been through many iterations, many mood changes, many "this is garbage I'm completely starting over" hissy fits... and everything in between. I've been sitting on this version for over a year now, terrified to publish this much ANGST. But, it's past time. Chris and the Reader have so much more to experience and, I want to get there. To get there meant I needed to get past this hurdle. Maybe this could have been two chapters, or even three, but... I digress. THE HURDLE... If you are still reading this, after so long... I am so thankful! If you are getting into this fic series for the first time... I am so thankful! I just hope you won't have to experience multiple year long hiatuses, like your for-readers! HA Ok... please enjoy!

                       ________________________________________

Chris and I had spent Thanksgiving in Boston and would be spending Christmas with my family. The simple fact that Chris was worried about me traveling “so late in the pregnancy” had settled the deal, despite the fact that my doctor had given the go-ahead to travel much further along.

I had quickly found that when it came to me feeling the slightest bit of discomfort, in any way shape or form, it was simply easier to let Chris make the decisions. His constant worry was ever present yet, thankfully, adorable and hadn’t driven me crazy. On the other hand, figuring out a name for this child was going to drive us both absolutely bonkers.

“Please tell me you are joking,” I glared at Chris’s image on my phone.

“Seriously? You don’t like it?” he laughed.

“No, absolutely not. Our child will not be named Christopher Robin.” I propped the device against the decorative bowl on my kitchen table, freeing my hands to cut a piece of chicken in half.

“Fine,” he scoffed, taking a sip of his water. “How’s your chicken?”

“Delicious,” I mumbled with my mouth still full. “Yours?”

“I ruined it, I really did.” He shook his head, staring at the plate in front of him, just off camera. “I just can’t figure out what I did wrong.”

“I told you to be careful to not cook it too long,” I teased, taking a dramatic bite of food.

“You be nice!” He pointed at me with his fork, squinting his eyes. I smiled back mockingly, my lips tight across my teeth. “Don’t make me cut you off from date night!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I pulled my napkin to my chest in mock horror. “You like this too much.”

“I do,” he conceded. “I definitely do. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world?”

“Except actually being here with me… right?” I raised one eyebrow to him.

“Of course! I’d give anything for that!” His eyes went dark as he pursed his lips.

“Hey,” I urged softly. “No crying on date night.”

“I’m not,” Chris shook his head, smiling. “I promise.”

“Good… because we have business to attend to,” I sighed out, pushing my plate away.

“You sound so excited,” he teased.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” I sighed again.

“And?” he pressed.

“And… I’m worried that we’ll never agree on a name.” I felt my face twist in worry.

Hiding my emotions and true feelings from Chris was something that I failed at continuously. It wasn’t just that I was bad at it, it was that he seemed to read between the lines. Always watching the smallest of facial expressions, listening to my tone and inflection. He well and truly heard the things I said and even more so the things I didn’t say.

“We have time. We have so much more time,” he soothed my worries with his low voice.

“Not really,” I countered.

“Really? We have like…” he paused and looked up and to the side with his eyes. “… Seventeen more weeks? We will totally nail down a name before then. Way before then.”

“I guess we don’t really have another choice, do we?” I laughed at the realization.

“No, no we don’t,” he chuckled. “So what’s on the short list?”

“We don’t even have a short list!” I cried out, lifting my hands into the air, exasperated.

“Ok, ok!” He raised his palms to me in surrender. “It’s ok. It’s fine. What’s on the long list?”

I pulled my notebook around and flipped it open, settling on the page littered with scribbles, doodles, lists, scratched out names and notes about people we didn’t like and therefore couldn’t use their names.

“We have roughly sixty five million girl names that we love, forty million girl names that we like… and… exactly 3 names for a boy that we ‘don’t hate’…” I finger quoted the air.

“Well, maybe that means she’s a girl.” Chris was grinning at me from the screen.

“Maybe.” I smiled back. “But we still need to narrow down the girl names and get some more boy names on board.”

“I still say Christopher Robin.” His eyes lit up, knowing that he was pushing my buttons.

“Not only is that silly, but its way too close to your name,” I scowled at him.

“Well, if it is a boy… maybe we could name him after me?” Now his face twisted in an adorable questioning way, one eyebrow up, one scowled, his lips pulled to the side in a smirk.

“I am so glad we are having this conversation on facetime!” I nearly squealed at the sight of his face.

“What?! Why?”

I watched his face turn to innocent concern.

“Just to watch your face right now. In this moment. To see how you’re really feeling, behind what you’re saying, showing on your face!” I leaned forward, layering my arms on the table in front of me, inching closer to my phone.

“Don’t you start talking about my eyebrows right now! Don’t do it!” he play shouted, covering his forehead with one hand.

“I love you,” I laughed the words out. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he sighed back.

“You really want to name your boy after you?”

“I do,” he nodded, smiling.

“I can tell.” I took a deep breath to settle myself and continued. “So, we will name our son, if we have a son, after his father.”

“Really? You mean that?” His face lit up with joy.

“Of course I mean it, you silly man! I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Naming this baby is stressful enough, I’m not going to joke about something that clearly means something to you.” I looked down at my ever expanding belly and ran my hands over and over, smiling. “Tiny Christopher Junior.”

“Tiny Christopher Junior,” he repeated.

“Junior… or the second?” I looked back to the phone now.

“Junior, for sure. Our kid can’t walk around Boston thinking he’s some prince or something, with the second,” he shook his head roughly, chuckling to himself.

“Boston?” My heart fluttered at the thought of moving.

“I’m sure he’ll visit there, at least once in his life, right?” He winked at me, quickly easing my worries. I wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet and he knew it.

“Of course he will,” I agreed.

“Ok, so we have a boy name picked out,” he cheered. “Air high five!”

We mimicked a high-five between our phones and both erupted into a fit of giggles.

“We are going to be horrible parents!” I roared in laughter.

“No, no no no! We are going to be fun parents!”

“Well, that’s for sure!” I agreed, whole heartedly.

“Alright,” he popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and immediately made a sour face. He turned his face from the camera to swipe the offending food way into his napkin.

“That bad huh?” I pulled my lips between my teeth, attempting to maintain composure.

“Ugh, yes,” he grumbled. “I’m picking the recipe next time.”

“Oh come on! You can’t blame the recipe! Mine turned out just fine.”

“Yeah, well… I’ll pick something that I know I can cook for next time.” He fidgeted with his plate, obviously moving his chicken away from the rest of his food.

“That sounds fair. Just no barbeque. You know I can’t barbeque.”

“Deal.” He poked around his plate some more and then settled his eyes on the screen again. “I’m gonna see you in a few days anyway. Maybe I’ll barbeque for you while I’m there.”

“I like that idea.” I smiled at the idea of Chris cooking at my house. Moving around my house, like he belonged here. Because he does belong here.

He had started to leave things at my place, here and there. A shirt one time, left behind for me to sleep in. A toothbrush another time, after forgetting his own and needing to buy one. The next time he bought an entire set of toiletries to leave behind. I had surprised him by clearing out space in the master bathroom for his things to take up residence. Now, it seemed that each trip his luggage was getting smaller and smaller. He had a small selection of button down shirts hanging in my closet. A handful of t-shirts, some pants and workout clothes, were neatly folded in my dresser. One pair of flip flops, a pair of running shoes and a pair of casual shoes were lined up in the corner of the closet. A spare charger was permanently plugged in at the nightstand on “his” side of my bed. His toiletries now co-mingled with my own in the bathroom. He even had a favorite coffee mug, which I secretly used nearly every morning that he wasn’t there.

“So what is on the baby check list while I’m home?” he interrupted my thoughts with a quiet question. I smiled at the mention of “home” and his face lit up as he registered my delight.

“Well…” I started, turning pages in my notebook again. “Besides picking a girl name? Finish painting. Assemble the crib. Decorate. Pick out some bedding to put on the baby registry.”

“Ooh, do we get to use one of those beepy things at Target?” He was nearly bouncing in excitement.

“If you want to,” I laughed. “But if we find something that we like online, then we’ll just add it to the Amazon registry.”

“I say we check Target first. I really want to use one of those things.” He shook his head as his own ridiculousness.

“We can check Target first,” I assured him.

“When is your shower, again?”

“The first weekend in March.”

“So loooooong. I want to buy stuff now,” he whined.

“I do too… but they’re really excited about this. We should let them have their fun.” I really was so glad that my family was being so supportive. Mom had a not-so-secret stash of baby things, “hidden” in the guest room closet. Dad gave me updates each time Mom or my sister added to the stash. So far it seems that it was mostly clothes, for both boys and girls. Dad said Mom was going to save the un-needed clothes for the next baby. When Dad confessed all of this to me I laughed so hard that I cried.

“I know, you’re right,” he conceded. “We’re still doing the nursery decorations ourselves, right?”

“Yes, we are. So get your butt back out here so we can work on it!” I was suddenly sad, missing him so much it was nearly painful.

“Hey,” he urged gently. “I will be there in a few days. We will decorate and paint and I will cook for you and rub your feet and…”

“And cuddle in bed?” I raised my eyebrows to him, simply missing his touch. Missing his presence in the house. Missing his laughter echoing off the walls.

“And cuddle in bed,” he agreed. “And do other things in bed.”

I snorted a laugh in response.

“Hey now, the doctor keeps saying that these hormones are supposed to make you crazy for me!” His eyes went wide in exaggeration.

“I’m already crazy for you,” I argued.

“You sure about that?”

“Of course I am!” I cried out. “Are you complaining about the frequency? Or is the quality not up to your expectations?” I squinted my eyes at him.

“Neither!” He surrendered his palms again, laughing. “Neither, I swear. I was just teasing! I promise!”

“I was just teasing, too.” A smile broke across my face and I burst into giggles.

“Oh man, you got me… I swear. I’m so scared to make you mad. Supposedly these hormones are supposed to make you like…”

“Crazy?” I interrupted, still laughing.

“I didn’t say crazy!” He held up a finger in protest.

“No, I did.” I took a deep breath and sighed, calming myself. “I’m not crazy though, right?”

“Not at all, honey. Not at all.”

… … …  … … …

A few long and tiring days later Chris arrived, letting himself into my home with the key I had forced into his hand the last time he left. The argument was laid moot at my insistence that if something were to happen, he needed a key.

Nothing bad had happened, but I was thankful that Chris had his key when he found me snoozing at my desk in the studio

“Good morning sunshine,” he crooned as I blinked my eyes open.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” I groaned, lifting my head from the desk surface, a paper sewing pattern coming with my cheek. Chris chuckled gently peeling the paper off.

“Is it time to take maternity leave?” He joked and looked around the room. The clutter made my exhaustion obvious. On the cutting table, a pair of dressmaking sheers lay open, topping a pile of cut fabric, with scraps littering the surrounding surface. A new pattern lay nearby, only half taped together. Both serger and sewing machine stood proudly lit, still switched on. Piles of old and new fabric, haphazardly hanging from their shelves, bolts threatening to fall over, near ones that already had.

My eyes followed his gaze around the room, landing on my laptop that I had pushed to the side, still brightly lit with my webhost back end on the screen. I shook my head and clicked ‘save’, hoping that my edits hadn’t timed out. With confirmation of my changes I checked my phone, noting five missed calls. Three from Chris and two from Kate.

“I need to call Kate,” I rasped, before clearing my throat.

“To talk to her about maternity leave?” Concern was etched across Chris’ face.

“No… not yet,” I scowled as I clicked through my phone. E-mails from a fabric designer filled my inbox. I winced. “Remember that conference I skipped to come to New Mexico?”

“I do,” he nodded slowly.

“I was supposed to meet with a fabric designer…”

“A big one, right? Your sister told me.”

“Yes,” I sighed out disappointment in myself. “Basically, I lied and told her I was sick and needed to reschedule. Then later told her that I’m pregnant.”

“Ok… and?” Chris didn’t hide the confusion.

“She assumed the illness was morning sickness and was actually really cool about it,” I felt my eyebrows raise and I filled him in.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“It is! Yes… but… it pushed back the design. It was working out to be an exclusive fabric design for me. For my clothing line.”

“That’s amazing, honey!” Chris beamed at me, then scowled. “Wait, so what it wrong?”

“We haven’t found time to get together, so everything has been through email, which pushes back the timeline. With the fabric design pushed back, the clothing design gets pushed back and I just really want this line to AT LEAST be in manufacturing before the baby is born.” I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes. Chris was right, I needed a break, but there was no way I would enjoy maternity leave, knowing my company was left hanging. And to be fair, it seemed way too early for maternity leave.

“Ok… alright… we’ve got this. It’s ok.” Chris turned my desk chair toward him and knelt in front of me. “So, what do we need to do to get to that point… or to get to a point that you can leave it to Kate?”

“I can’t leave it all to Kate. This is my company!” Tears welled in my eyes. “I can’t do that. This is my design. This is what I’ve been waiting for! An exclusive fabric for such a small company… it’s so hard! I can’t just walk away! I want to enjoy this. I’ve worked SO hard for it!” I could feel my emotions taking over. These damn hormones.

“Oh honey,” Chris pulled me into a hug. “You will! It’ll be ok!”

“No!” I wailed. “It won’t! I have to take maternity leave at some point… I have to take a break! I’m losing my mind, I swear! I’m exhausted all the time and then when I sleep, I dream of sewing!”

“Let’s take a little break, get out of this room, go put that crib together!” Chris looked at me expectantly.

“I was dreaming about sewing the baby’s bedding, when you woke me up,” I nearly whispered, shaking my head slowly.

“Oh honey,” Chris whispered, pulling me into another hug.

“I don’t know what to do right now. I’m so tired, I can’t think.” I sniffled, wiped my eyes and pulled my head up to look him in the face, for what seemed like the first time since he woke me. “And I need a shower, so bad.”

“Alright,” Chris stood abruptly. “I’ve got this.”

“You do?” My face twisted in amusement and confusion.

“Yep. You need a shower, a break and some help. I’ve got this.” He straightened up, putting his hands on his hips and surveyed the room again. “Go get in the shower. I’m going to get Kate in here to clean up… AH!” He held up a finger when I tried to protest. “I will pay her for her time today and then I think we should maybe talk to her about either changing her schedule, or taking on more hours.”

“And then what?” I sighed, knowing he was right.

“Then, when you get out of the shower, you’re going to answer those emails,” he motioned at my phone. “Then we can eat something or you can take a nap, but you’ll decide that AFTER you shower. Alright?”

“Alright.” I agreed, succumbing to his help. “Let me get you Kate’s number.”

“You’re silly if you think I don’t already have it,” he chuckled, retrieving his phone from his back pocket. “Get in the shower, now. You smell.”

“I do not!” I protested, standing with the assistance of his free hand.

“You don’t,” he smiled, kissing the top of my head. “But, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“I hear it’s worse once the baby comes,” I teased.

“I won’t like that either, but I’ll do whatever I can to help. I can promise you that.” With a gentle push I was out the door and walking across my back yard. Simply being outside in the fresh air was already a welcome change. I glanced around, imagining playing with our sweet little girl that was yet to come.

“We should get a swing set back here,” Chris called from the doorway of the pool house studio.

“I was just thinking that,” I called back.

“Shower first. I can smell you from here!” His chuckle almost choked off his words.

To say I took a long shower would be the understatement of history. I started with the shower, steaming hot, standing under the cascade with my eyes closed. When my legs tired I longed for a bath and switched to the tub faucet, plugging the drain as I sat down to enjoy the bath.

Chris knocked softly on the door as he opened it slightly.

“Did you fall asleep in there?” His voice was low, as if he didn’t want to interrupt me, had I actually been sleeping.

“No,” I giggled. “Just reveling at how my belly sort of floats in the tub.”

“Just your belly?” I heard his tone change.

“Well, no, but… my boobs always floated,” my giggle bubbling into a laugh.

“I’m sad I never noticed that.” I could hear the smile in his voice before he peeked around the curtain.

“Cool, huh?” I smiled up at him, my hands running down my stomach.

“Very,” his smile turned and he tipped his head to the side. “Is she moving?”

“She’s movin,” I stopped my hand, attempting to feel her kicks from the outside. “Wanna try to feel again?”

“Eh… I’m kinda worried I’ll just be disappointed again.” He shrugged his feelings away and sat on the edge of the tub.

“I have a good feeling this time,” I grinned as I felt a tapping from my belly, on my hand.

“Oh do you now?” He shifted his weight and moved his hand to hover over mine, in a silent request for permission to touch me.

I took Chris’ hand in my free hand, sliding it under my opposite palm. We waited, our eyes locked. I felt a small bubble of movement, deep in my belly and frowned.

“I don’t know…” his face fell completely, dejected and disappointed.

“Shh, give her a second,” I scowled back at him. As if on cue, the tiniest of kicks made my eyebrows shoot up. “Did you feel that!?”

“No.” Chris exhaled through his nose as tears welled in his eyes. “I swear I’m never gonna….”

He was interrupted by jab, straight to his hand, as if to say “DAD! Shut it! I’m here!”

“HA!” I yelped. “You felt THAT!” My face split into a grin and tears spilled over with no warning.

“I did… I… Wow… Oh my god!” Another kick stopped his speech. “I swear, everything she does… it all makes me cry!” Tears streamed down his face, dropping into the tub.

“Well, you’re a daddy,” I spoke softly, my voice cracking with my own emotion.

“I’m a daddy,” he whispered.

“Now you’re really never going to take your hand off my stomach,” I smiled away my happy tears.

“Nope, never!” He straightened up. “Have you even washed yourself or have you just been enjoying the water?”

“Just enjoying the water,” I sighed contentedly, taking his free hand to place next to the one already on me.

“You’ll need to do that. I don’t want to hear any whining about tangled hair or being itchy from the water.”

“I will. As soon as you’re out of here,” I looked up at him through my eyelashes.

“OH, I’m not leaving!” His eyebrows lifted in a i-dare-you-to-tell-me-to-leave look.

“What? Then how am I supposed to wash myself?”

“Oh, don’t let me bother you. I’ll stay out of your way as best as I can!” With that, he grinned and abruptly barrel rolled over me, into the tub, landing between me and wall. Water sloshed out over the edge in a tsunami, soaking the rugs and bath mat.

“Christopher!” I yelped, trying to sit up.

“What?” He feigned innocence, then winked. “Like I said, don’t let me bother you… but I’ll wash your belly for you if you’d like.”

“Your clothes are soaked!”

“Uh… everything is soaked,” he nearly cackled, his hands still firmly on my round stomach. “Lucky for me, I’ve brought extra clothes!”

So there he stayed, while I drained the tub, stood and restarted the shower. I washed my hair and face, all while his hands stayed put. I poured soap into my loofah and eyed him, holding out the sponge, only to be met with a shake of his head and a laugh.

Once my entire body, minus my stomach, was clean, Chris took the loofah from me and began to wash my belly slowly, gently, almost as if I were made of glass.

“Can you still feel her moving?” I nearly whispered.

“I can,” he grinned, washing with the loofah as his free hand trailed behind it, never missing a spot or an opportunity to feel his little girl move.

“This has been simultaneously one of the weirdest and best days.”

“It’s only weird because you fell asleep on your desk,” he teased.

“Uh… and my baby daddy jumped into the tub with me, fully clothed,” I reminded him.

“Baby daddy,” he repeated in a sarcastic chuckle, scowling.

“Hey,” I called to him gently, blatantly ignoring his attempt at letting the moment pass. I lifted his chin with my fingers and felt my face twist in worry. “Hey…” I nearly cooed.

“It’s fine.” He shook his head from my hand and went back to washing.

“Not, it’s not. You’re not fine.”

“No… I’m not.” He stood and rinsed the loofah in the running shower behind me, one hand still on my soapy belly.

“Talk to me?” I nearly begged, standing on tip toe in an attempt to get eye level with him.

“I don’t want to fight.” His voice was low, pain dripping from every word, as he set about hanging the loofah, closing and putting away soap bottles, all one handed.

“I don’t either,” I was taken aback. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He’s tired of the baby daddy joke. Shit.

“Then we won’t.” He forced a smile and turned me away from him, to rinse the soap from my body. His hands moved as slowly and gently as before, with no hint as to how he was feeling.

“Chris, don’t…” I could barely get the words out. Would this be our first fight? Shit! “Please talk to me.”

“No, not right now. Not while you’re naked and we’re in the shower.”

“And you’re fully clothed in the shower?” I wasn’t sure if I meant it as a joke, to lighten the mood, or if I just didn’t know what to say. I knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say, when he recoiled from me, both of his hands coming off of my stomach.

“I said I don’t want to fight… not that I want to joke about it.” His body went rigid.

I spun around in his arms that still formed a barrier around me and reached for his face. He recoiled, again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my hands falling to my sides. It didn’t seem appropriate to rest them on my stomach, no matter the fact that my stomach was still my body. It didn’t seem appropriate to put my hands where his had just been, in such joy.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was hollow, his eyes filling with angry tears, where there had just been happy tears. “I don’t want this conversation to go like this. Not now, not here, not because I got angry. Not like this.”

“What conversation!?” I was suddenly terrified that my worst fears were coming true. Shit.

“Let’s get out of the shower,” he proclaimed, pulling the curtain aside calmly and stepping out.

I exhaled sharply, my hands flying to cover my mouth. I tried to hide the sob, to hold it in, but it broke through. I surrendered to the desperate crying that took over and looked down, placing my hands on my belly. No, no no no no. Did I just screw things up THAT bad, THAT fast?

“Chris?” I choked through the tears, frozen in the shower.

“Out of the shower, please?” He reached in, twisting off the tap and held out a bath sheet.

That fucking towel. THAT towel? That huge towel you bought for me when I complained that my belly got so big that I could barely get my towel around me. That towel, that you surprised me with!? That’s the towel you’re going to hand to me right before you break up with me!?

I stood shaking, naked, wet and cold, staring into his eyes. I could read nothing. There was nothing.

“Y/N, please!” He thrust the towel towards me as a reminder of its presence. Yet, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take the towel. Not THAT towel. Not any towel, from him. So I stood. He sighed in frustration and began to dry me off. Squeezing out my hair, gently pressing the terry cloth to my face, my neck, my breasts.

“Stop,” I pleaded through a sob. He continued, gently drying my arms and legs. He turned me from my shoulders, to face away from him, and dried my back and butt. I felt my body heave with emotion as he turned me back to face him. “Stop, please.”

“No,” his eyes stuck on my stomach. “I told you, I can’t do this with you naked, not here, not like this.” He took the towel to my stomach and gently dried my skin of every last drop of water.

“Chris!” I struggled to regain composure.

“Do you need lotion?” A single eyebrow raised on his face and I came undone.

“No, I don’t need lotion! I can’t do this, Chris! Don’t do this to me!” I sobbed, covering my face.

“You can’t DO this?” He nearly yelled, standing up. “What does that mean!?”

“I don’t need lotion! I need YOU!” I wailed now, with no care in the world of the fact that I was naked, no care of who heard me. I couldn’t do this.

“You need ME?” He nearly bellowed the words. “You NEED me? Then why can’t you do this!?”

“What!?” I cried out, nearly in physical pain from the emotion. “Yes, I need you! I love you! You are the father of my child! I need you! Why are you leaving me!? Over a joke!?” I was angry now, ripping the towel from him and throwing it on the ground. I eyed the linen closet, intent on getting myself a different towel.

“It’s not a joke!” He shouted back. I flinched away from his anger, startled and covered my chest with my hands and arms. His face softened and bent to pick up the towel, whispering with a shake of his head “It’s not a joke. It hurts.”

“So why didn’t you tell me? Instead you’re just going to break up with me? You’re going to leave me… you’re going to leave her!?” My hand went protectively to my stomach, forgoing my modesty.

“I’m not breaking up with you!” His face broke into a million emotions. “Why would you think that!? I promised you I’m not going anywhere! WHY would you think I’m breaking up with you?”

“You’re not… you’re… not?” I gasped for air. “I… you’re NOT!?”

“I’m not…” he stepped towards me cautiously and when I didn’t move away, he wrapped the towel around my shoulders.

“You’re not,” I shivered into the towel, feeling my body ready to give way. “I don’t understand… you said this conversation… and… you… you went so cold!” My breath quickened again, my heart racing.

“I just meant about us… about where we are and where we’re going and… I didn’t want to pose it as I’m tired of being called the baby daddy, no matter how much that hurts… I wanted to just have a conversation about our relationship.”

“I didn’t know it was hurting you,” I nearly whispered, holding back tears. “I really didn’t know. I’m sorry, Chris. I’m so sorry.” I gave in as he pulled me to his chest, sobbing into his already soaked shirt. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. Please, don’t. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I should have said something sooner. I realized that after I talked to my mom about it and…”

“You talked to your MOM about it!?” I cut him off.

“I talk to my mom about everything, honey… I… ” he trailed off, realizing his mistake.

“So, something that I was doing was hurting you… and I had NO idea… and instead of telling me that I’m hurting you… you tell your MOM that I’m hurting you!?” I was officially hysterical. Hormones be damned, I was angry and sad, furious and broken. Have I really failed him that much as a… a what? A girlfriend? A lover? A… baby mama? Damnit, that word really does hurt!

“I realize now how stupid that was… and I’m sorry.” He pulled me out to arm’s length and crouched to see eye to eye. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry this got so bad.”

“She must hate me now!” I whispered, leading into screeching “Oh my god, she must HATE me! Chris!!! I’ll never be able to look her in the eye again!” I threw my face into his chest again.

“She doesn’t hate you. I promise.” He rubbed circles on my back, shushing me. “She told me to talk to you about it, that I was making a bigger deal out of it that it really was.”

“Not if I was hurting you! I don’t ever want to hurt you!” I mumbled into his chest, then pushed off to stare him down. “Damnit Chris! Your FACE, when I said it in the shower! I thought that was it, that we were done!”

“We are not done,” he reassured me.

“But you can’t DO that! You can’t let things get that bad, without talking to me!”

“I won’t. Never again. I promise!” He cupped my face in his hands, caressing my cheek.

“This sucked,” I began to cry again. “Now we can’t ever talk about where we are, without it being tainted by this… this…” I motioned at the shower and let my hand fall back to my side, pressing my forehead to his chest.

“It really did suck,” he sighed the words out, cracking with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” I couldn’t stop the tears.

“Can we try to talk though? Can you put some clothes on and stop distracting me with your naked body, so we can really talk about it?” I felt his impish smile against my head and couldn’t keep a straight face, even through the tears.

“You’re a brat!” I laughed, wiping my face.

“Your brat,” he grinned, drying his own eyes.

“Yes, my brat. Is that what you want me to call you?” I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile.

“Staaaaahp!” He threw his head back, his weight on his heels and came back with a true smile. “Come on, naked lady! I want clothes on you for this conversation.”

Chris led me by the hand, to my bedroom. There I found two loads of laundry washed, dried and folded neatly on the bed. The bed was made, with fresh tulips in a vase on the nightstand, coupled with a cup of tea.

“I assume that was still hot, before you jumped in the tub?” I teased, motioning towards the clearly room temperature mug.

“That is was,” he nodded and led me to the cushioned bench at the foot of my bed. With swift determination of someone that knew exactly where I kept everything, he set to bringing me clean panties, a bralette, tank top and leggings. “Socks too?”

“No, no socks. Thank you.” I smiled, unwrapped myself from the towel and waited, knowing he would not allow me to dress myself.

“No fight over who puts your clothes on?” He smiled down at me.

“No, no more fighting.” I lifted my arms and let him dress me. Each article of clothing was punctuated with a sad, slow, desperate for affection, please don’t ever leave me, deep kiss.

I smiled and fought back tears until I was clothed. When all was said and done, Chris asked if I wanted to lie down.

“No… I was told I have to attend to my emails before I took a nap,” I joked, poking him with an elbow.

“I’d like to talk first?” He smiled, his easy going nature back in full force. I nodded pointedly in agreement, blowing all of the air from my lungs to clear my head.

“You are everything to me and everything to this tiny girl,” I peeked down at his hand, already on my stomach. “I will call you… or not call you… anything you want. I don’t ever want to go through what just happened, ever again.”

“I think you took the words right out of my mouth,” he smiled. “But… before marriage and between dating… there is exclusivity, which usually means calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend…”

“Seriously? You think we’re not exclusive? I know I’m not seeing anyone else… and if you are, I swear to god, Chris…”

“I’m not!” He chuckled, moving his hand to gently cover my mouth. “I’d just like to call you my girlfriend and for you to call me your boyfriend, because I feel like that is the last step before being engaged.”

“I’m not ready to be engaged…” my eyes went wide at the thought and I grabbed at his hand.

“I know you’re not and that is fine. If you are not ready, then I am not ready.” He took my hands in his and squeezed. “I hope I know when you’re ready though… because I want to surprise you. I don’t want it to be a conversation that ends in a decision. Is that selfish?”

“Not at all,” my eyes squinted nearly shut with my smile. “I want to be surprised.”

“Ok… I think we are on the same page?” Those eyebrows, they danced with concern.

“So long as you don’t plan to ‘surprise’ me on Christmas or New Years,” I finger quoted the air and smiled.

“I do not. I promise. No major holiday proposals.” He kissed my knuckles and laid our hands together on my stomach. “And I promise that if something is hurting me or bothering me, I will talk to you about it first.”

“Unless it’s someone else bothering you,” I joked.

“Even if it’s someone else,” Chris smiled and shook his head. “It’s you that I should be going to for help. You are the number one woman in my life. My mom is my mom and I love that woman to death, but this… this is my forever and I need to treat it as such.”

“Don’t tell your mom that!” I giggled at my own joke.

“Ha… well… she knows. We’ve been betrothed since I was six, if you remember,” his smile went crooked as he cocked an eye at me.

“I love you,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to my hands.

“I love you,” he tipped my head up with his finger tips to kiss me gently. I smiled into his kiss at the groan of relief he emitted.

“No moaning!”

“That was a groan,” he insisted quickly, then slid his hand behind my neck to pull me in for a deeper kiss. My voice betrayed me and Chris chuckled. “That was a moan!”

“Do it again,” I quietly begged. And he did. Again and again, each kiss more feverish than the other.

“Why did I even get you dressed!?” he mumbled against my mouth, fumbling with my tank top in an effort to pull it over my head.

“Because I was distracting you with my naked body!” I slid my hands under his shirt, eliciting a true moan from the man before me.

“Distract me again,” he begged. So I did, first removing his grey thermal shirt, then assisting with my own shirt. His eyes went wide at the sight of my chest, nearly bare to him in the lace bralette. “I swear they grow by the second.”

“And get more sensitive,” I pouted.

Chris’ face feigned surprised innocence as he sat back on his heels, drawing a hand to trace the edge of my bra. His eyes met mine in question and I whimpered in response. I knew what he wanted to do. I wanted it too, more than I could describe, but feared for the possible pain.

I was not prepared for the searing pleasure as Chris pulled the fabric aside and took my breast into his mouth. With my gasp as an answer to his unasked question, he continued with fervor. As his right hand cupped my breast, his free hand was left to explore and explore he did, until neither of us could take the wait any longer. Our clothes were nearly ripped apart in the sudden fever of desire. We tangled to the floor, our bodies a writhing heap of passion. I cried out with each climax of pleasure rolling into the next, lost in a daze of lust until Chris met his end, roaring out his euphoria like I had never heard him before.

There we laid, panting and gasping for air, on the floor beside my bed. “Was that make up sex?” Chris mumbled, tucking a tendril of hair behind my hear.

“I think so,” I huffed, still regaining my breath.

“You ok?”

“Yep, just… I had no idea an orgasm included uterine cramps until my uterus got so dang big!” I shifted my weight, away from Chris, turning to my back.

“Cramps? Not like, contractions, right?” He was up on his elbow, peering down in concern.

“No… not real ones I don’t think. They’re just… tight. Really tight.”

“But no pain…” his hand went to my belly, sending those eyebrows up in Surprise. “Wow, that’s… that’s firm.”

“Right?” I laughed away the discomfort. “But no, no pain.”

“Good.” He pecked a kiss to my forehead. “We don’t have time for a hospital visit today.”

“Uh… ok. I didn’t really want to go anyway?”

“Liz should be here any minute… unless she’s already here…” He trailed off, sneaking a look over the bed, out the window, to the back yard.

“What!?” I yelped, struggling with my attempt to leap up into action.

“Slow down lady, you’ll hurt yourself,” he grunted as he got himself upright. “C’mon,” he rolled his extended hand towards me. “I doubt she heard us anyway.”

Our clothes were collected, mine being put back on after a trip to the toilet, and Chris’ hung over the shower curtain rod to dry. All the while, my eyes were leveled at him in judgement.

“What?” He chuckled, avoid my glare by carefully selecting a clean shirt from the dresser.

“You knew. You brat.”

“Maybe I did,” he pulled a black t-shirt over his head and grinned when his face reappeared.

“You DID!”

“I did,” he giggled to himself, slipping on a pair of khaki colored jeans. With his zipper and button in place, he strode over and held my face in his hands. “Are you mad?”

“No…” I smirked. “It’s fine, it wouldn’t be the first time she heard me with someone.”

“What!?” Shock streaked across his face. “Are you serious?”

“No, you crazy man! I just had to get you back!”

“Oh thank god,” he pulled me in for a hug. “Because you know there were NO men before me.”

“Of course not,” I giggled.

“Promise you’re not mad?”

“About Liz hearing us? No. But, let’s try to not ever do that again. Ok?” I spied Liz emerging from the studio, through the window.

“Ok,” he smiled with his cheek against my head before noticing Liz and promptly erupted into a fit of giggles.

[remywrites5]

Rumor Has It

           Remus was heading inside from herbology when he noticed a few second years by the lake look over at him. He met their gaze and the group of girls erupted into giggles. He glanced down at himself to make sure he wasn’t wearing anything embarrassing. For a second he thought it might be one of those awful dreams where he went to class wearing nothing but his pants.

           But it wasn’t a dream and he was fully clothed. When he looked back over at the group of girls, they giggled even harder, whispering to each other. Remus furrowed his brow and wondered just what about him was so funny. He wasn’t normally such a cause for amusement. Mostly he was known at Hogwarts by proxy of being friends with James and Sirius and he honestly preferred things that way. Considering his “furry little problem,” he wasn’t trying to attract unwanted attention his way.

           It was Spring of Remus’ sixth year at Hogwarts and most days he was just relieved that no one had found out about his Lycanthropy. It had been a close a few years back when Snape found out, but Remus hadn’t been run out of Hogwarts yet. He considered that an achievement. He never thought he’d get to be around kids his own age or have a group of friends like the Marauders.

           Still, having what he could only describe as infamous friends meant that the whole school knew them from their many pranks over the years. However having second year students laughing at his expense wasn’t exactly par for the course. Remus wasn’t often a subject of ridicule except when it came to a few choice Slytherins.

           Having eyes on him made Remus feel uncomfortable and he was suddenly very aware of how alone he was. If James or Sirius were there they would have done something stupid to make the girls laugh harder. They would have attracted even more attention. Peter, on the other hand, would have just been happy to have people noticed him.

           Wrapping a finger around one of his curls, Remus gave it a slight tug to calm his nerves and continued towards the castle, moving at a quicker pace than before but not trying to look as if he were running away. Once he was inside he felt as though he could breathe a little easier. He was still unsure why those girls had been laughing at him, but it wasn’t as if he were going to ask them about it. He decided the best course of action was just to ignore it.

           Remus had an essay due for History of Magic so he decided to skip lunch and go to the library to work on it. As much as he loved his friends, they could be pretty distracting even on their best days. Remus usually found himself doing his homework by wand-light after the other three had gone to bed.

           He decided to stop in the Great Hall just to grab something to eat quick before the library. He knew his friends would try to get him to stay but if he did that it would mean another sleepless night. With his friends’ non-stop japery and his prefects’ duties, Remus was having a bit of trouble keeping up with his studies.

           When he slipped into the Great Hall and the door shut behind him, it felt like every set of eyes in the room turned to look at him. After a moment, quite a few people turned away and continued their conversations. Others continued to look at Remus, their expressions either curious or baffled. Remus felt his stomach twist uncomfortably into knots. There was definitely something strange going on.

           He found his friends in their usual spot at the end of the Gryffindor table, close enough to the exit to make a fast getaway if a prank should go awry. It also meant being as far away from the Professors as possible and Minnie’s prying eyes. “Alright there, Moony?” James asked, smiling kindly at him. His smile wavered a little when he saw Remus looking a little sickly. “Herbology can’t have been that bad!”

           “Something weird is going on,” Remus told them, looking around the room. Most of the people who had been staring at him had lost interest but there were still a few watching him. “People are staring at me. You don’t think they know, do you?”

           Peter and James shared a glance and then both simultaneously looked at Sirius. That was never a good sign. “Know about what?” Peter asked, shoving a biscuit in his mouth as if to keep from answering.

           “About, you know…me,” Remus said, wringing his hands nervously.

           “I don’t think so, mate,” James answered as he cleared his throat and continued to look pointedly at Sirius. “What do you think, Pads?”

           Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. “Hard to tell.”

           James must have kicked him in the shin because Sirius let out a pained noise and grabbed at something under the table.

           “Well, I’m off to the library,” Remus told him. Sometimes his friends were absolutely bonkers. Whatever it was that was going on between them Remus wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

           “Remus, stay!” Sirius begged, pulling out his signature puppy dog eyes. “The library can wait.”

           Remus sighed and rubbed his forehead. “No Pads, it can’t,” he insisted. He grabbed an apple and sandwich, shoving the apple into his pocket and the sandwich into his mouth. He gave them a salute and headed out of the hall. He pretended not to see everyone watching him go.

                                                                       ***

           Spending time in the library was short lived. He started out at one table with his books spread out around him and his quill moving quickly over the parchment. He was a few lines into the essay when he heard some mumblings at the table next to him.

           “It can’t be true.”

           “I heard it from Mary McDonald who heard it from Sirius himself!”

           “No way!’

           “You know how close those four are.”

           “You don’t think they’re all – “

           “Don’t be stupid. James Potter is in love with Lily Evans. Everyone knows that.”

           “I can’t believe the best looking guy at Hogwarts is bent.”

           “I can kind of see it. Remus is cute.”

           “Not as hot a Sirius Black though.”

           Confused by their conversation and also a little unnerved by it, Remus packed up his stuff and moved to a quieter corner of the library, pretending the group of people he’d just heard talking about him and his friends weren’t watching his every move. He sat down and began to write again hoping that he hadn’t completely lost his train of thought. Something he’d overheard had been ringing in his head though.

           “I can’t believe the best looking guy at Hogwarts is bent.”

           Remus swallowed hard and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’d sort of had his suspicions about Sirius’ preferences. After all, Sirius Black was a shameless flirt and was as likely to chat up a guy as a girl. He would have chatted up Peeves if he thought it would be a laugh. Besides, the two of them had a strange appreciation for each other.

           Remus heard the chair across from him scrape against the floor and he put his hands down in time to see Fabian Prewett sitting down. “Wothcer Remus?”

           “Hi Fabian,” Remus said, feeling himself blush slightly. Fabian had been his first kiss the previous year. They’d very briefly dated, although you could barely call it that, while Fabian was going through his experimental stage. Remus understood completely when Fabian realized he preferred girls once Marlene Mckinnon showed an interest.

           “So is it true?”

           “You’ll have to be more specific,” Remus told him, frowning slightly. Everyone was being so cryptic and Remus was finding himself very much over it.

           “You and Black.”

           “What about Sirius and I?” Remus asked although he felt like he had an idea. His stomach flipped and suddenly some things he’d overhead made a lot more sense.

           “The whole school is talking about it,” Fabian said, smiling apologetically. “That you’re dating.”

           Remus was sure he was going to be sick. “Where do people come up with this stuff?” he asked, trying to laugh it off.

           “I don’t know,” Fabian said, shrugging. Remus had always found Fabian easy to talk to. Friendly and charming, Remus would have happily dated him for longer than a few weeks. “I could believe it. Sirius was always rude to me when you and I were…you know… and then once I started dating Marlene he was perfectly nice to me again.”

           “That doesn’t mean anything,” Remus said, tugging one of his curls self-consciously. “Sirius is…”

           “In love with you,” Fabian finished with a knowing grin. “But you know, don’t take my word for it. From what I’ve heard this whole rumor was started by Sirius himself.”

           “Is that so?” Remus asked through gritted teeth. He slammed his book shut and packed up his stuff. “Excuse me, Fabian. I have to go.”

           “Uh oh,” Fabian said, chuckling. “I think someone is in trouble.”

           “Yes he fucking is,” Remus growled, doing his best not to give everyone watching him the two finger salute as he stomped his way out of the library.

                                                           ***

           “Where is he?” Remus hissed at his friends before the portrait had closed behind him. James and Peter were sitting on one of the couches in the common room playing exploding snap. They glanced at each other and pointed towards the dormitory. Remus nodded without saying anything and walked up the steps to their rooms.

           He swung the door open with a bang and stood in the doorway, his breathing ragged as his hands curled into fists. Sirius glanced up at him and at least had the good sense to look sheepish. “Remus, I know what you’re going to say –“

           “Oh do you?” Remus asked mockingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

           Sirius scrambled out of his bed and stood up, keeping a fair bit of distance between Remus and himself. “I shouldn’t have told people.”

           Remus laughed mirthlessly, feeling a big hysterical. “Padfoot, either I’m crazy or you are.”

           “I can explain –“

           “You’d better!” Remus snapped at him. “Because despite what the whole school now thinks, I don’t remember a conversation where you and I decided we were dating.”

           Sirius took a step closer to Remus until Remus fixed him with such a glare that he retracted it. “I-“ Sirius started again, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

           “I’m waiting…” Remus informed him, tapping his foot impatiently.

           “I love you!” Sirius blurted out, startling Remus into dropping his books.

           “What?”

           “I-I’ve been in love with you for ages!” Sirius told him, dragging his fingers through his long dark hair. “But I couldn’t figure out how to make you see it! And it doesn’t do to just go around snogging your best mate, does it? I mean what if you didn’t like it? I couldn’t ruin everything, Moony.”

           “Sirius, stop!” Remus said, interrupting him. “Stop talking.”

           Sirius clamped his mouth shut and whined as if he had more to say. Remus closed his eyes for a moment and tried to process. A lot of information had been thrown at him today. When he opened his eyes, Sirius was much closer than he had been. “Moony?”

           “I still don’t understand,” Remus said quietly. “You were just – what – testing the waters to see how I’d react to you starting a rumor about us dating?”

           “I – “ Sirius winced. “I didn’t mean for it to spread so much. I only told a couple of Gryffindors so that it would get back to you. It’s not my fault Mary McDonald has a big mouth.”

           Remus groaned and dragged his hand down his face. “Regardless, Pads, you don’t get to just…bully me into a relationship with you!”

           “Bully you?” Sirius echoed indignantly.

           “Yes!” Remus insisted. “This was a conversation you should have had with me, not Mary McDonald. Don’t you think you should have asked me what I wanted first? Or does that not matter to you?”

           “Of course it matters, Remus!” Sirius said, reaching for him desperately but Remus yanked his arm away.

           “You don’t get to just decide things for me!”

           “I know that!” Sirius growled in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? Tell you that I was absolutely gone on you? What if you didn’t feel the same way? What would I do then, Moony?”

           “You idiot!” Remus shouted, crowding into Sirius’ space. “Fucking kiss me.”

           Sirius didn’t have to be told twice. He closed the space between them and captured Remus’ lips in a bruising kiss. Remus laced his fingers through Sirius’ thick hair and tugged, making Sirius groan in appreciation. “Told the whole…bloody school…before me…” Remus grumbled between kisses, still angry, but not enough to stop kissing Sirius.

           “Love you, Moony,” Sirius whimpered between kisses as well. “Please don’t…be angry…with me.”

           Remus backed them up towards Sirius’ bed and shoved him down onto it before climbing on top of him. Their lips were only parted for a moment before they were back to snogging. They pawed and gripped at each other, wanting to hold each other but at the same time wanting to get each other’s clothes off. In the end they settled on just rutting against each other in need, too impatient to get undressed and unwilling to unlock their lips.

           When it was over they kissed languidly, the heat of the moment somewhat gone and both boys satisfied to take their time. They knew eventually they would have to get out of bed and clean up the mess, but for the moment they were content to just stay close to each other.

           “I really am sorry,” Sirius whispered, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment. “Do you forgive me?”

           Remus sighed and pressed their foreheads together, staring into Sirius’ stormy grey eyes. “I guess,” he said, smiling softly. “But don’t you ever do anything like that again, okay?”

           “Okay.”

           “Promise?”

           “Yes Moony, I promise! Merlin’s beard!”

           Remus chuckled and settled in next to Sirius, resting his head on Sirius’ chest.

           “Moony?”

           “Yes Padfoot?”

           “Maybe Divination isn’t such bollocks after all,” Sirius told him thoughtfully.

           “Why do you say that?” Remus asked, flicking his eyes up to look at his…well…boyfriend he supposed was the most apt word.

           “Because I made my own prophecy come true,” Sirius said with a large grin, looking unbearably pleased with himself. “I told James you’d be mine before the end of the school year and I was right!”

           Remus responded by smacking Sirius in the face with a pillow if only to wipe the smug look off his boyfriend’s face.

           Sirius retaliated by kissing Moony deeply.

           Just because he could.

[romanticsuspense]

If I see one more person say that the show is forcing Bree and Roger on us 🙄🙄🙄 the show is months away and it's already started. Everytime there is something Bree and/or Roger related released there are always hateful or rude comments. I really don't understand people's need to hate on them all the time. If you don't like them don't talk about them. Is that really so hard? And don't get me even started on the people who can't wait for Roger to get hanged. That's really disgusting.

We are on the exact same page about this, anon!

Sorry for not answering this sooner.  I think I received this a week or two ago?  So, I’m not sure what Brog related promo was released to incite the hateful comments at the time.  But, I do know I’ve seen some fresh hate after this perfection was posted on the outlander_starz Instagram a couple of days ago:

I don’t see quite as much of the anti-brog sentiments as I used to.  I block anyone who posts anything nasty in the Outlander tag or on other people’s positive posts, so I don’t have to see their negativity anymore.  But, since the show has been added to Netflix, there are more anti-brog fans sprouting up every week it seems.  

I’ve given all of this a lot of thought and tried to rationalize it.  But, it’s really impossible to rationalize other people’s subjective feelings and opinions.  At one point, I really wanted to do a series of posts defending Roger.  But, ultimately decided not to because…the anti’s aren’t going to read it, and they’re definitely not going to change their minds, so what’s the point?  I could go on and on about the double standard by which Roger and Jamie’s characters are judged.  I could pull quotes from the books that showcase how decent of a man Roger is (a better man than Jamie, IMHO).  I could explain, in ridiculously long essays, how much I love Roger.  But, there are still going to be people out there who hate him.  And I can’t change that.  I don’t understand it.  I don’t like it.  But, I can’t change it.  

This fandom is just super weird and crazy and there are a lot of inexplicably angry people.  I’ve seen hate directed towards Bree, Frank, Roger, Matt Roberts, Caitriona Balfe, Richard Rankin, Sophie Skelton, David Berry…pretty much everyone but Jamie and Sam!  So, I am strangely comforted by the fact that it’s not just my favorite character getting dragged through the mud.  

I’m with you, anon, in that I just don’t understand the compulsion to make hateful comments all the time.  I think they’ve formed their own little Tumblr circle where they rile each other up, stew in their indignation, and assume that the rest of the fandom feels the same way they do.  They talk about the show in absolutes and extremes.  It’s Jamie and Claire always and forever, and if you like any of the other characters, or defend any of the other characters, you must hate Jamie and Claire.  Measured, critical analysis of characters is rare in that circle.  Also, I find it interesting how the hate evolves and changes.  It used to be “Sophie is a terrible actress and Bree is a seflish brat.”  Now it’s “Roger is a misogynistic pig and Bree deserves better.”  It’s almost like it’s cool to hate on certain characters or actors, like a fad.  Right now, there’s a lot of Brog hate, but they’ll circle back around to Frank-hate in a couple months, then it’ll be Cait-hate, before getting back to Brog-hate.  There’s always something to complain about.        

I share your disgust about fans who are already expressing glee at the prospect of Roger getting hanged.  I am truly baffled that there are people out there who think Roger deserved to be beaten nearly to death by Jamie, or that he deserves to be hung in Season 5.  The reason those story lines are so powerful is because he doesn’t deserve it.  As readers and watchers we are supposed to be horrified by Jamie’s actions, not applaud them.  We are supposed to be upset by Roger’s suffering, not happy about it.  I say “supposed to” not to dictate how anyone should feel about fiction, but because of the framing of the story in both the book and show.  It’s not framed as a “villain gets his comeuppance” story line, but that’s how many of the anti’s are interpreting it.  Roger is not a villain.    

As much as I’ve criticized the writing of Roger and Bree’s relationship in Season 4, I still don’t think the level of vitriol directed towards Roger and/or Bree is warranted.  The fan reactions have been way out of proportion to what was actually portrayed on screen.  It doesn’t make a lick of sense that fans are wishing and hoping for Roger to die.  Luckily, they can wish and hope for his death all they want, but Roger isn’t going anywhere. 

All this to say that I’m trying my best to not let the haters get to me.  But, even though I’ve taken measures to avoid seeing the negativity, it still surprises me and gets under my skin when I see those comments and posts.  I wish there weren’t trolls in this fandom, but unfortunately there are. The block button is your friend.  Find fellow bloggers who actually enjoy watching the show.  Try to ignore the “extreme” sections of the fandom.  One of my favorite advice bloggers, askamanager.com, will tell people who write in for advice about their coworkers doing crazy shit to re-frame it in their minds.  So, instead of becoming really frustrated by the bonkers things your co-workers say or do, you take a step back and look at the situation through a different lens—one in which you’re able to accept that you have limited control over the situation and almost be entertained by it.  I think this same advice can be applied to fandom.  I’m trying my best to be Gina Linetti 👇🏼

[kioraxerxo]

A/N: Thanks anon! I had a lot of fun with that fic. An immature brian is an adorable brian. This is like an alternative universe where the reader falls in love with roger instead. Literally it’s the same structure but idk i felt that the parallel was adorbable. Hope you guys enjoy! 

A Jealous Roger is not a Happy Roger (Roger Taylor x F!Reader)

Fuck Brian. Fuck him and his stupid poodle hair. Fuck him and his stupid brain. Fucking nerd. Fuck him and his stupid PhD. His stupid hobbies he likes bragging about. Fuck him. 

“Go easy, Rog.” John murmured beside him.  “What?”  “You said that last bit out loud.” John smirked and shook his head.  Roger rolled his eyes and watched you again. Brian was discussing some shit about his stupid thesis on space dust or whatever fucking nerd shit he mustered up. And what’s worse was that you were eating it all up. Your pupils were all blown out and you had this little awestruck smile on your face and you leaning into him .You were looking at him like he was god-sent.  He bets Brian really likes that. He bet it swells his over-bloated ego. Brian loved showing off how smart he was. Usually the groupies he brought over would immediately lose interest whenever Brian even mentions a lick of anything academic, but you were surprisingly interested.  You were even replying to Brian! Asking questions about cats in a box of gunpowder? And Brian--Brian was illustrating for you!  Amidst the waves of jealousy and anger, Roger knew that deep inside he felt insecure. Deeply and horribly insecure next to Brian.  He knew Brian was interesting. He knew Brian was multi-talented. He knew Brian was a fucking genius and a kind person to boot. And Roger... Roger plays the drums. Roger always at the back while the rest of the band gets the spotlight. Roger who was forced into dentistry but fucking dropped out and now he’s out of school.  He watched you so enraptured by what Brian was saying. Something about philosophy he bets. You love philosophy. Roger recalled all the times you tried to engage him in those conversations and he would just blubber about until he either dismisses it or changes the topic. He pretends he doesn’t see the look of disappointment on your face. 

You were a complex woman and Roger was just a simple man. 

He met you when he was trying to apply for East London Polytechnic. You were in the council booth, helping everyone out. You looked so beautiful. He knew his way around the campus but he desperately wanted to talk to you.  “Hello, excuse me?” carefully approaching and putting on his best smile.  You turned around, eyes all bright and waiting. “Yes? Need help?” 

“I...I’m new here and I’m a bit lost really. I can’t find the College secretary’s office.” Of course he knew where the college secretary office was. It was how he received his papers to begin with.  “Oh that’s fine. It’s a big campus!” you smiled. “You walk down this hall, then take a left by the commons room. If you walk a little further, you’ll find the office. It has a yellow door. Look for Mrs. Catesby.”  “Oh. T-thank you.” he took a few steps and turned away from you, disappointment bloomed in his chest that his plan didn’t work.  “I can go with you if you want!” you called.  Roger closed his eyes and grinned from ear to ear. He whipped back to face you. “Thank you, yes please. I’m not that familiar with the landmarks yet.” Roger watched you while you were leaving instructions for the other people by the booth. You wore plaid grey pants, black kitten heels and a black turtleneck. You looked like the type to ace all your exams while volunteering at the local hospital. You weren’t exactly his type. But god damn, you were absolutely stunning.  “I’m Roger, by the way.” he offered his hand. 

“Y/N. Nice to meet you Roger.” you shook it. He was a bit taken aback at how firm your grip was. 

The both you strolled towards the office while you gave him little tidbits of information about the campus.  “How come you know so much?” he teased. You looked like the type to love compliments.  “I think I’m supposed to. Student Council and all.”  “Wow. Do you have any other organizations?” “Well there’s the tennis team. Debate club...some others. It’s embarrassing really.” you blushed such a lovely shade, if Roger might add. He wanted to ask you out but based on the number of things you just said, it didn’t seem like you and him would be very compatible. 

“Oh! There’s the office.” you smile.  “Hey! Y/N!” a group of students approached you and Roger. They were clad in leather and smelled of smoke. A real dangerous look to their eyes. Roger didn’t know why but he subconsciously stepped in front of you. “Hey guys, I already asked Luke to take my shift with council duties later.” you said rather casually.  “Good. See you at practice!” one of them waved and walked away.  “Right, sorry. The College Secretary’s Office is here. Just be ready to prepare you papers before knocking-- “Who were those?”  “Oh! Those are my friends, I know they look a bit scary but it’s just our branding really. We’re all good and proper students.” you said quickly, afraid that the new student might get the wrong idea about the school.  “Your branding?”  “Yeah, we’re in a band. I’m their drummer!”  Roger. Roger was deeply in love. 

They’ve been very good friends ever since. Good Friends, that’s all. It was nearly impossible to imagine that a girl like her could exist. There were so many facets to your personality that Roger found himself discovering a new piece of you every day.  “Here, how about you try?” Brian’s voice shook him out of his reverie. Said poodlebrain was showing off his stupid camera. He saw Brian hand you the camera as you tried to aim at something.  “Here let me help you.” Brian said, moving behind you/ Oh no. No. No. No. Don’t you take another fucking step closer to her Brian. 

“See you just have to aim it,” Brian said, his face a little too close to the nape of your neck.  Roger felt his blood pressure shoot through the roof. He was seeing red.  “...Right there.” he put his hands on yours and that was the final straw.  “You get your hands off her, Brian May!” 

Everyone whipped their head towards Roger. He didn’t know if he was red at the face from the anger or the embarrassment. Silence. “I’m... I’m going to take a smoke.” he stuttered and rushed outside.  He made a beeline for the balcony. Some fresh air would clear his thoughts. He knows you were following him. He heard your footsteps.  He finally reached the balcony and the cold hair hit him in the face.  “Roger.” you called. 

“You’re better off with Brian, Y/N.”  “And who are you to decide that for me?” you snapped back. He didn’t reply.  “Roger Meddows Taylor, are you jealous?”  That did the trick. He lashed back, practically fuming at the mouth. “Maybe I should go back in the room and do it all over again? Throw a hissy fit at how Brian’s better than I am? Was it not clear enough I’m nearly bonkers in love with you!?”  You bit your lip to suppress a grin. You’ve been waiting for this for so long. You calmly took a step towards him until you were inches from his face.  “I think I’m in love with you too, Taylor.” You pressed a little peck on his lips. 

No. Roger was having none of that. You felt a strong grip on your waist and the gentle slide of a wall behind you. Roger was never the one for little kisses.  ________ “This is getting ridiculous. It’s been an hour and they’re nowhere in the building.” Brian huffed.  “Have you checked the janitor’s closet?” Freddie smirked, very much aware of what was happening.  “The janitor closet? Wh--”  You and Roger entered the studio room both looking a little winded. “Sorry guys!” he piped, a ridiculously large grin on his face.  Brian was looking between the two of them, obviously calculating the circumstances of what might have occurred.  But Roger was going to beat him to it. “Oh Brian, have you got your camera?” he jeered.  He hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you tightly beside him. “Can you take our picture? I want to remember the day I became Y/N’s boyfriend!”  The room erupted in cheers.  “Oh and Brian, make sure it’s 3D.” 

[paperclipninja]

Younger post-ep recap 6x06

Due to a rather unfortunate run in between my laptop and a glass of water I lost my original ramble for this week’s Younger (as well as the actual laptop so R.I.P Lappy, you were actually pretty terrible but we had a good run). So instead of my usual review I thought I’d do more of a recap and refresher of the last episode to get us prepped, primed and pumped (aka the 3 P's) for the next installment (ep7).

Episode 6 of Younger was in many ways so bonkers that it shouldn’t have worked, but somehow all the pieces came together and it did .Oh boy did it ever! I outright belly laughed a number of times throughout and I think my dog was mildly concerned for my well-being because there were actual tears coming out my eyes at a couple of points. I’m a sucker for a pun so ‘Merger, She Wrote’ had me at hello (you could say my hopes for the ep were high...yes I did and #notsorry). What I wouldn’t have given to be in the room to see the reactions to a script with ‘Liza goes to talk to the nurse who is actually a plant’ in it. So yes there were LOLs galore but most importantly, by the end of the ep order had been restored following the upheaval of the past 6 episodes (which is about the limit viewers can take sitting in the discomfort of an unfamiliar detour from the norm IMO: think the Bryce Reiger arc in season 3 and the Charles finding out the lie in season 5...it’s almost as though Darren and co. have done this before...), Finally the fam is back together at Millennial (or is it Mercennial now?)

Straight off the bat I was very distracted for most of the opening scene by Liza’s dress and look in general because it was AMAZING.  I am loving all the Maggie/Liza in the morning scenes we’re getting this season and Maggie in a blue coverall embarking on a DIY rope harness ceiling painting project...what could possibly go wrong? I felt mildly uncomfortable at how relatable Maggie’s not being served for 10 mins in a bar and sneaking out to the fridge in the night were, but was also mildly mesmerized by Liza’s coffee mug that looked like some kind of old-timey wash basin (turns out this was not relevant to the story but noted nonetheless). Maggie also offers the very straight forward solution of merging the two companies to alleviate the tension that’s putting Liza and Charles in ‘not a good place’ and I love that her ‘bing, bang, boom’ is echoed by Liza when she floats the idea with Charles later in the ep. 

The' Microdosing' book pitch provided us with the set up for the retreat and my fave thing about this scene was how IN character all the characters reactions were to it all; Diana is flat out appalled by the whole thing, Liza is Captain Cautious but trying to play it cool and Kelsey looks like she’s seeing colour for the first time and would 100% pledge her devotion to Travis in any kind of cult situation.

What might have seemed out of character, but actually ended up so perfectly capturing the way she always does everything with absolute gusto, was Diana's foray into boomer erotica narration (as Liza so eloquently put it, 'I think we just found our Seasoned Slut'. These lines, I swear *rofl emoji* )  I think I laughed through the entire scene of Diana in the recording studio, I mean, Miriam Shor's delivery of every line just kills me, but the highlight was undoubtedly when she suggested she could hit nipple a little harder and affirmed  'throbbing nipple' to herself as she walked back to the booth. Zane and creepy af Audrey Colbert waiting allowed for Diana to unsubtly hot foot it out of there, which was a great throwback to her refusal to be in the same room as Audrey in ep 3.

It was a also great opportunity to bring Zane and Kelsey back together and who doesn't love an awks 'accidentally had the mic open and didn't realize' moment when you're talking about how your author is definitely a murderer? I feel like Audrey may go and find another publisher now (just a hunch) but I would really like to see more of her because this character is a type of unhinged that we haven't seen on this show and I think that could be a lot of fun to see play out. I have to say that Kelsey Peters is NOT someone I picked as a boop-er of noses, yet there she was at the bar, booping Zane's nose and this was my favourite interaction of theirs in the series. I was totally digging the dynamic this ep and it will be very interesting to see what that will look like with the new work arrangements. Also, where was Zane when that was all going down btw? I assume Charles filled him in on the bringing the companies together plan before it happened?

Liza's excitement when she told Charles the idea of merging the two companies was endearing and I am unabashedly a big fan of Charles, but his attempt at convincing Liza to join him at Mercury after she tells him that she won't leave Millennial and Kelsey, by saying he left his company to be with her, was super shitty. But it was also super necessary. Because at some point this needed to be said and most importantly, Liza needed to call him out on it and let him know that he cannot use it as a bargaining chip. One of the things I love most about the Charles/Liza dynamic (aside from all the things, but that's another essay) is that Liza is her own advocate in this relationship, she will stand her ground when something is important to her and does not compromise herself to appease Charles. He is equally as stubborn but they are able to have the hard conversations that need to be had but this doesn’t lead them to question whether they want to be together (I very much appreciated the kiss on the cheek Liza gave Charles before she left for this very reason).

So of course being on a psychedelics retreat together when they've hit a roadblock in the relationship was definitely a very good idea...Well it was for us as viewers at least, because pretty much from the moment they arrive and Liza and Charles start talking straight to camera as the literal doctor (my god that whole line just cracked me up) informs them they'll be taking not-LSD, we know we're not in Kansas anymore Toto. Enter Josh for *insert drama here* purposes (and I do think he should franchise Inkburg coz why not?) and we have, ladies and gentlefolk, a recipe for some next level hilarity. But not before Josh and Liza share a lingering look as they take their dose of illicit substance to ensure that Lizs's trip includes one down memory lane.

I have made my feelings about love triangles known many times (quick recap: hard dislike. Tricky to pull off without one or more characters looking bad. Very tiring as a viewer and quite frankly I am pretty lazy and tired most of the time irl so just don't want it on my screen), however I will say that I did not see this ep as re-stoking the love triangle, I saw it as simply reminding us that it is there and can be reignited by the writers at any stage. Within the context of everything that was happening, Liza hallucinating Josh at her door actually made sense and I have no doubt that various factions of Younger fans had meltdowns at that moment for very different reasons.. Sutton Foster's physical comedy throughout this whole ep was second to none, starting at her realization that it was, in fact, Charles who had come to her room and continuing the next morning at breakfast.

Speaking of which, there was something about seeing Liza and Charles in the breakfast room together that made my sappy heart swell, it had such a vacay feel and I'm sure if you muted your volume you could pretend they were just listening to the activities for the day before going off to spend some quality time together...I mean, maybe that would be a thing, I wouldn't know....where was I? Oh yes, the unfolding of a series of comedy golden McNuggets™ that I am still laughing about. We learn that Liza is a supertaster (for those like me who pretended they understood what that meant but then realized they did not, I googled it and it means that she is sensitive to the drugs and basically the microdose affects her like a full dose, you're welcome) and I am chuckling even now when I think about Josh's, 'hey guys' in Charles' voice as he joins the table.

This is another one of those concepts that I feel like could've not worked at all but sweet lawd, the Charles and Josh voice swap scene was next level and I could watch this and the scene that follows over and over and never not laugh. I again LOVE the decision to have the guys talk to camera because it absolutely emphasizes the whole situation and Liza sidestepping away to visit the nurse just rounded off the whole crazy caper.

I have no words to describe how much I love the flat out ridiculous perfection of the visit to Nurse Maureen. Yes Liza has the epiphany that Josh and Charles bring out different things in her (though hot sex seems to be at the core of both so ya know, sounds like a win in the past and present and good for her on both accounts) and again, the unlikely scenario that her ex and current boyfriends are in the same place at the same time (while she is taking mind altering substance) has just played out so it also makes sense in this context. Quite frankly I'm shipping her and Maureen pretty hard at this point because a) it is not easy to pull off eyeshadow that green and b) everyone deserves someone in their life who has the kind of belief in Liza that Maureen does when she tells her 'I bet you can' dance just like me. I don't even know how to explain whatever that dance is but I just know that I want someone/something in my life that will windmill their/it's arms at me with such fervor that I find myself dancing with two attractive men in tuxedos on a galaxy stage.

I cannot express the joy I felt watching the entire dance scene, it was all just so. much. fun. But my absolute hands down favourite moment was when it cut back to the retreat and we, along with Charles and Josh, discover that Liza is in fact dancing with 'Maureen' the plant and seriously, this is up there with my highlights of the entire series. That and the reveal that the selfies Liza was taking were sent to Diana (Diana speaking to Liza in her 'sexy' voice, asking 'where is my plant?', Liza's, 'Maureen', I just cannot with every part of this glorious tie in at the end of the ep. I am sending Ashley Skidmore a houseplant to express my gratitude for gifting us with these moments*). Seeing Josh and Charles together was great but it was clear a scene was missing and I am SO glad that Younger released the deleted conversation between the two of them coz it was both necessary because YES and also because it suddenly made Charles' entire conversation and reason for his decision to sell Mercury make sense (ie. was pretty pivotal).

I big A adored Charles and Liza's conversation (and outfits and aesthetic overall) as they're leaving the retreat, the shift in Charles is palpable and it's just such a credit to the writing and acting to be able to convey so much in such a brief scene. Maggie of course experienced quite the shift herself, from ceiling to floor, with a sufficient amount of dangling as her helpful neighbourly pervert got himself off as she got herself down. But most importantly, Maggie got her mojo back (though is she not currently dating Beth? In which case location of missing mojo: unclear).

Now I gotta tell you, the final scene of this week's ep up and got me. Big time. Kelsey's earlier comment, that she really hates competing with Charles, certainly added weight to the resolution we've all been waiting for this season. Charles' honesty about his realisation that he is hurting his family, not to mention him confirming that he means Kelsey, Diana and Liza and that he wants to come home, ugh, my insides are gooey just writing these words, leads to his offer to Kesley and honestly, the interactions between all of them in this scene was wonderful. I loved that Kelsey held the room, that Charles was putting the offer to her from one businessperson to another (though thank goodness Diana was there to point out the difference between $1 and $1000000 eek! Also, I get that it would never occur to anyone that the price would be $1 so I'll cut Kels some slack). Diana looks like she is going to cry at any moment from elation and I love the way Kelsey asks for the approval of the ladies before shaking Charles' hand. This will forever be one of my favourite scenes on this show.

The thought of Charles coming back and working as an editor alongside Liza is an actual dream. I mean, I am very happy to be taken on the journey the writers set, but I have legit wondered what it would be like to see him in that role and he and Liza working together properly as equals and I absolutely cannot believe it's going to happen.

Well this ended up being quite a bit longer than I expected (lol, what a surprise). Bring on episode 7!

*I will not in fact be sending Ashley Skidmore a houseplant because I live in a very far away country, it would cost a lot of money and it is 1000% creepy to receive a dead plant from a stranger. 

[faejilly]

hi jilly can you talk about your wips they all seem so interesting 👀

all 10-20 of them? 😅😅😅

Eleven now, actually, if we count what was supposed to be a quick little prompt-fill that has grown legs. Not literally, since I am blaming it on #mermay so uh. It grew a tail? (And a curse! Not that the story is at all about the curse, I am literally writing a conversation with two people wrapped up in bed with tea, I do not uh. Do action sometimes, even when action might be warranted.)

ANYWAYS

Do you have a preference? (There’s all the stuff I started posting because I have the impulse control of, idk, a puppy or something.)

Alternatively there’s the stuff I’m trying to finish before posting? (We’ll see how long that lasts…)

I twitter-threaded about the Malec arranged-marriage!AU once upon a time. It’s an excuse for pining, tbqh. And it’s mostly stalled because I cannot quite recapture that beautiful agony that I was going for on twitter. Some day!

spite!fic was born from reading a lot of fic where-in Alec was awkward and unhappy in ways that he’s not in the show; I think it’s mostly book!Alec characterization, but it keeps showing up in stuff tagged for the tV sHOW ONLY and it makes me a little bonkers. Also I wanted to write some stuff about how hard it is for Magnus politically to be involved with a Shadowhunter, (especially kind of THE Shadowhunter of NYC once Alec’s HotI), because the show sort of mentions it but never goes anywhere with it? Also, you know. Any excuse for Pandemonium!Porn.

I’m actually really bad at porn lately tho? Because both ??? and priest!kink were originally just supposed to be Malec PWP and between them I have written several thousand words and there’s not even a KISS in either of them. I got distracted by world-building or something. I have that problem a lot. (The setting is a character too! I get really into that sometimes and then can’t turn it off.)

Priest!kink was literally supposed to take advantage of that Raziel stained glass window in Alec’s office just watching them… I have this minor *blasphemy* thing going on apparently… I blame the Dragon Age Kink Meme and Impossible. 

“???” is literally my version of a fake dating undercover assignment in which one of the party is all “I absolutely cannot pull that off but I’ll date you for real and get you in?” and then honestly they have this running “joke” that every time they have sex it’s good for their cover! So there’s that. I think I am hilarious and yet my sense of humor is eternally 14 is the only excuse for this. (There are some legit interesting power dynamics that I may or may not do anything with? And it’s a take on an ABO setting for no real reason beyond the fact that I’m curious if I can pull it off.)

hmmm, what else. I have a sequel for out of some dreaming tree which is an amalgam of meeting the boyfriend’s family, wing-kink, linking my AU into 1x10 because I can, some more demon hunting, and tying up the (intentional) loose plot thread of an introduced Madzie who was clearly scared of something. There was also the idea of glimpsing assorted fairy-tale retellings while they’re checking on other dimensions, but I haven’t quite figured out how to make that work satisfactorily. Yet.

And I guess the big one is technically @lynne-monstr‘s fault, but I’m also glad of that, because I had a mish-mash of things, some Izzy & Maryse and a possession fic and an amnesia fic and a sequel to with an if in its soul (because dealing with having been dead seemed nice and angsty and I’m mean?) and there are a lot of interesting thoughts s3 raised but then it didn’t do anything with them, so I want to SQUISH THEM ALL TOGETHER INTO A 3B RETELLING. And it’s kind of ridiculous? But the fics actually complement each other surprisingly well, if I can finagle my timeline a little, and figure out my POVs. It may never actually happen because it would take a lot of work, but I’m poking at it hopefully nonetheless.

[serenagaywaterford]

i’m getting a little anxious about s3. and not in a good way.  (don’t worry. i’m not talking about tuello/serena again.)

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

mostly cos there’s that article that confirmed basically what we already sorta knew: that june is gonna be at lawrence’s as his handmaid. (so at least no more ceremony rape which is nice.)

but forgive me... but i’m pessimistic about the fracturing of the main cast. that never really works well? and we’ve already seen how tht handles it. (not well lol)

now we have june, serena, nick, janine, and moira all in different places with divergent stories. (we know emily and nichole will join up with moira, luke, and erin. and likely sylvia and oliver. so there’s a whole canada crew.) i mean janine has never been a core player but she’s fairly important. and rita... will... likely go with the waterfords wherever they go.

but without june at the waterfords, she’s separated from serena, fred, nick, and janine all in one swoop. (but then of course the waterfords burns down so lol)

now, things i’m really not interested in which i feel are going to take up a lot of time because of this fractured cast:

- serena and fred’s failing relationship. call me biased but i honestly don’t give a shit. i don’t care about fred’s feelings in any way whatsoever. i don’t care about him being sad. or angry. or anything. i simply do not care about him. he needs to die this season. him being upset at his wife who hates him now is so dull. i love serena, i care about what is happening with her character but fred is an accessory to that, not the centre of it. i know there has to be something about him cos he’s tied to serena’s character in many ways, but i’m not here for Poor Fred’s Sad Times Manpain.

- nick being in the army or whatever. i just don’t think he’s a strong enough actor or character to carry scenes by himself. it only worked cos he was playing opposite powerhitters like moss, fiennes, and strahovski (even sweeney). without them to carry the scenes, i fear i’m gonna be bored af. even as a character, he’s just... not that interesting. sorry. the show has managed to actually strip the book character of his moderate complexity and made him into some flat love-interest cliche. who magically survives every treasonous thing he does. so for him to suddenly be a tough guy who is commanding a guardian regiment is fucking laughable. just plain batty. thus, because it’s so nonsensical, it bores me. nick, just in general, bores the fuck outta me on a good day. i dread s3 scenes with him. how nick isn’t fucking DEAD by now for all the shit he’s pulled on waterford it’s bonkers. at the very least, as an eye he should have been removed from that assignment. but i digress. yawn.

- lawrence/june stand-offs or lessons or whatever they wanna frame them as. “he’s testing her”. UGH. i mean, i don’t mind some of it (and apparently they’re gonna partner up)... but i really will be bored when every scene of her in a household is just a showdown of some kind with lawrence. quite frankly, again, maybe i’m just a misandrist but i give zero shits about lawrence either. i don’t wanna her about his pathetic man-struggles and his humanity. i don’t care about his regrets. 

here’s how it goes: i do not care about the men. period. like, there’s no mystery about why men do what they do. there’s no complexity. their stories like this have been told 6,203,009,484,836,334 times already in fiction. we see them in our history books over and over. there have been a million psychological treatises on why nazi men did what they did. why lawrence went along with it, why he continued it, what his contribution was, etc. etc. --- i. do. not. care. i really don’t care about him teaching june the trolley problem or whatever the point is. if the general audience is that lacking in ethical philosophy they need to be taught this, maybe this show is too much already. i also am not here for him using this to excuse his fascism. so, basically, my issue is i don’t care about lawrence. i’ve heard his story a 100 times already. 101 isn’t gonna make it somehow mind-blowing. or even interesting to me...

- lawrence flashbacks will be the death of me, and not in a fun good way. do not show me them. do not waste my precious fucking time on this loser dickhead.

- luke... well, i do sorta care about how the refugees are doing. mostly cos the show has handled it SO BADLY THUS FAR. they made it look super easy and just. no. their canada-side of things has been shit and completely bogus unrealistic. (but then i suspect atwood is partly to blame for that lol.) but i mean, the last thing i need is another full episode dedicated to woobie luke’s woes.

- basically, i give no shits about manpain in this show. none. every second of manpain is a second that a woman’s story is sidelined.

so, my issue with the set up is that when you separate the core characters, they all become strangely boring. what is interesting is their dynamics. and the fact that unless you are june, your story is really thrown to the wayside if you’re removed from her. look how they treated moira last season. and luke. even emily to some degree (but not nearly as badly as moira). she got fuck all to really do or be. luke, even worse. (not that i’m really complaining about that tbh.) emily and janine’s colonies subplots were hack jobs just to show what a colony is. 

now, fair play, i am 100% biased but the only character other than june that comes close to being able to carry a whole, complex story solo is serena. (hello 209). which, ofc, i’m not opposed to. but again, there is something missing in her narrative when she’s isolated from june for too long. 

moira could, if they’d let her. but so far they’ve squandered wiley’s talents and moira’s potential.

it’s sorta exactly because of how they’ve dealt with moira that i fear what will happen when they pull apart the main cast to this degree. yes, it’s the handmaid’s tale. yes, the book was a june solo story. but the show itself has always showed itself to be about other handmaid’s and women in general, almost as much. and how all these women interact. 

the thing is, the show is already treading dangerously into the ridiculous with half these characters even still being alive (june, janine, nick, emily), so it would take a shitload of magic for them to all stay together in one place. and when you pull them apart, it takes some magical deus ex machina shit to put them all back in the same place (hence that weird baptism thing when absolutely insanely they allow janine and the putnams in the same room lmao. plus june, serena, fred, aunt lydia... like yeah right. why doesn’t nick just show up too? hell, moira could stop in for a bite too. why not. nothing matters anymore.)

i dunno. maybe i’m just really cynical and pessimistic... but i don’t like the way it feels. pulling one character out is one thing. having two separate groups of different sides of the border is one thing. having every main character in their own story world is quite another. either the writers actually know what they’re doing after fucking moira & co. over last season, or it’s gonna be a rehash of that and we’re gonna be left with a lot of unsatisfactory, half-baked independent narrative arcs that don’t really weave back into each other in any sensible way.

on a completely separate level, i’m anxious cos of what they’re turning june into.

if the articles are to be believed, they’re making june become... some sort of rebel leader, loose with morality.

“You have to fight fire with fire,” Moss teases. “That’s become [June’s] journey in season 3. To fight against the people she has to fight, she has to become more like them.” Adds Miller: “We’re not doing a montage of June being radicalized — it’s 13 episodes. To see someone go through this process of becoming ruthless was a real challenge. We didn’t want to sensationalize it, or make it too morally easy, either.”

*sigh*

part of what i liked about june was that no matter how awful people were, she was always* very present and empathetic, and yeah she made stupid decisions, was selfish and narrow-minded at times, but inherently a GOOD--if flawed--character. i don’t wanna see serena 2.0. we have a serena, thanks, and she’s a bad person and the whole point is we want her to become a better person, not make june become a worse person to fit in with her lol. i don’t mind june harnessing some of that grit and power and cutthroat attitude, but serena is one of the weakest people and emulating her isn’t the best idea? am i crazy? i especially don’t need to see june turn into lawrence’s rebellious protege.

i dunno... it bothers me when every story about women ends up with “well they have to be more like men! that’s real power!!” (and i’m side-eyeing the male showrunner and male writers so fucking hard rn.) i’m not naive. i know some change is necessary, and to fight such a perverse system you have to infiltrate it, violently fight against it, and understand it. but you don’t need to become it. or again, maybe i’m just naive?

I DO NOT WANT “RUTHLESS JUNE”.

i’m sorry. i don’t. do some ruthless things, yes, that’s probably inevitable but to become a ruthless person? yikes. how has gilead not won then? it seems it has.

(*with the exception of eden. don’t even get me started...)

maybe i just need a cup of chamomile tea and to shut the fuck up until i actually watch it.