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from the bottom of my fucking heart if you are a parent and have an only child go and have another one. i don’t care if you need to kidnap one off the streets get them another human being to interact with so they don’t end up being a psychopath with no concept of flexibility or compromise!!!
#only child#they are actually batshit crazy and i cannot do it anymore#how have you made it this far in life being such an inflexible asshole???#i think a huge pet peeve of mine is people that don’t know how to compromise#it’s a part of life!#and literally every group interaction!#x
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The Mandalorian Chapter 11 reactions; the ‘the sea is a harsh mistress’ edition
- on first watch this wasn’t really one of my favorite episodes. I think it’s something to do with... one of the many things I love about the mandalorian is how it made the star wars universe feel HUGE. big and surprising and unknowable, there could be fucking anything out there man we don’t know. so having first bo katan show up and then ahsoka being set up right after (quite aside from who’s rumoured to play her, which is an entirely different can of wormy beans) in additon to opening the season on tatooine... eh. I’m not that into it, it feels like shrinking the world. we haven’t even gotten to see any other type of force user yet. it is only early/mid season tho so they’re probably going to pull some unexpected twists on us
my opinion might change with rewatches too, that happens quite a bit with this show!
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🎶I’VE COME TO TALK WITH YOU AGAIN🎶
honestly I had kind of a hard day yesterday and watched this the next morning and kept pointing tiredly to the crest like ‘it me tho’
- I was unreasonably happy about seeing the calamari flan again hahaha he’s been keeping that shit in his pockets for a season and a half now (didn’t he pay with some at one other point too?)! also the sound effects for them are SO EXCELLENT, I keep thinking about how well this show does texture which is wild considering how it’s filmed
- the warm pat din gave frog lady’s arm when he thanked her and said goodbye 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I love the small ways he’s thawing
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my heart ached so much for him at this point, he just looks so small and tense and lost, like a kid who’s lost his parents in a supermarket
(he keeps his hand on the blaster the whole time too so he knows this is a bad scene but now they’re right out in the middle of the ocean already soooo)
- din’s very very very dry sense of humour is so blessed. ‘a bowl of chowder for my friend’ faklhfsadkjlfhsadkjhfsd
the baby’s look when he poked the squid thing with his knife too -- yodito’s like ‘dad is a wizard??’ haha. some good baby & dad stuff in this one
- oh din... side quest boy, side quest booooooyyy
- the shot when bo katan helped him out of the water is perfectly mirroring the scene of bb!din being pulled up to safety by the mandalorian in the flashback, which seems Very Intentional
I Extremely Do Not Trust Her in the larger scale tho. I think it’s important that din knows now that he was raised in a very specific offshoot of the mandalorians ant that there’s some Stuff he hasn’t been told, but I also think it’s crucial to remember that her pov is not unbiased either and she, in fact, already has an established tendency to selectively share information with him to manipulate him into fulfilling her goals. (which he realizes because he keeps saying ‘that is not my mission, my mission is the child’ and I could not love him more). hell, I’m not sure exactly how ‘the children of the watch’ were positioned within death watch, but she was fucking death watch too for the longest time! and she hardly left for particularly noble reasons, she just didn’t like maul! she already lost mandalore like twice, do we just have to trust that third time’s the charm or what!
she lied to him about the scope of the mission to force him into a position to do what she wanted (fully knowing he’s responsible for a child!!) and she called that ‘the way’ just as easily as the thing about not letting his bravery be forgotten! big red warning lights, NO! I think the thing is that din is having to find his own ‘way’ of being mandalorian (/how does one be a person exactly help?? relatable content, and he’ll get there in the end I’m sure he’s so good), but her way is no less fucked up to me than the children of the watch from what we’ve seen so far. she’s good at killing imperials though which is of course a mark in her favour
(considering that the episode gives her the epithet ‘the heiress’... yeah that’s probably a hint that she’s loyal first and foremost to her entitlement, getting the position she considers hers by right of inheritance. guess we’ll see if the text agrees with her)
- ‘mandalorians are stronger together’ yeah that’s probably why the cosmic balance makes sure they’re mostly engaged in being at each other’s throats lol
- so I might be feeling kind of sketch about these guys but on the other hand... when that one lady saved the baby and then promptly took off her helmet to reveal she looks like t h i s ?
you better BELIEVE I was ready to fall down on one knee and propose right then and there holy shit
- ...wow if he didn’t have the jet pack din probably would have just sunk like a rock and drowned there huh 😨 that armour’s pretty heavy, turns out
- in happier news: din has become so good at reading what the child is expressing and responding/labeling the feeling for him! that’s so important to his development! ‘I know you’re hungry’ and both telling and showing him there’s a solution! still a bit of an issue that he thinks he can inform the baby of things like it’s a reasoned adult and have it understand, but we’re getting there we’re getting there lol
- that poor lady guiding them in for landing and sounding more and more worried fhkasjdlhfkjsdlahf (and he fucking TURNS OFF THE RADIO or whatever he’s using to talk to her through sdkfhaksdfhjs he takes a precious split second just to cut her off asfdjhaslkdfsdfhsda I love my salty dad)
- when the fisherman asshole tells mando he knows where to find more of his people there’s the tinkling bell sound in the background music, I think it’s meant to convey almost childlike longing for belonging and connection, for finding someone who’ll know what to do?
- when they took off their helmets and baby looked up at din like ‘???dad what the fuck? can you do that???’. (or like he just sensed his father taking a shitload of psychic damage all in one go)
- the way din didn’t start breathing again until they got the baby up from the water and he had him in his arms... the way he held him... sladfhasdklfhsjakdhfjsakldhfsakjldhfsjkadhfjaskdhfskajdhfjsdakhfslakhfskladhfsakljdhfjskadlhfkjsld
that whole scene was like a nightmare, so desperately unpleasant, in a way it mirrors the way the mandalorians have been hunted down and pummeled these last few generations, this must sort of be what it feels like to him subconsciously
- din isn’t particularly inflexible as a person, after the initial kneejerk rejection he did listen to what they said and is carefully considering it (he did say ‘this is the way’ back at the end!)
- the baby’s babbling when he wakes up and looks around in the beginning sounds half like ‘baba?’ and I almost had a heart attack
- loved how greasy and awful and dumb all the empire dudes were (and the comedy on board the ship too it was good for me)
- the boob plates huh. shit they’ve shown with the armorer that they don’t have to do that in any way shape or form and they still brought the boob plates back :/ I guess it’s so they match up with the rebels/clone wars look, evoking that ~*era*~ and everything, but I don’t have to like it lol
- I feel so validated in my theory that the razor crest is symbolic of din’s sense of self (now with beautifully added commentary!) after this haha (and also so so scared now they might be ditching it for a new ship eventually). it’s in pieces, his world view is going to pieces and can’t be patched together the way it was before, from what he knows he’s about to deliver the baby to someone else who’ll understand/love/deserve him better (I do think that feeling is still in him) and he doesn’t even have the certainty of the code anymore to fill the void. oh buddy.
the discomfort I felt when we got back into the cockpit -- into where it’s supposed to be familiar and safe! -- and saw all the ocean junk lying around, making it feel weird and changed and dirty (it probably smells like rotten seaweed in there now :( no likey)... I mean it was also very funny to see the pilot’s chair held together with a literal fishing net, but please favreau leave my dad’s car/ego alooooone
- baby laughing his little bum off at din catching the small sea monster before it got him and then munching it......... the ‘there’s nothing in this world my dad can’t fix’ safe energy.......... I’m so scared we’re coming up on something din can’t fix
- knitwear in star wars: I didn’t know I wanted it, but I am ELATED with having been given it
- moff gideon’s amazing evil voice... back in our ears, in our hearts, I gleefully hate him
- at least din’s armour is clean again after that (awful) swim? one must appreciate some silver linings along the way I suppose
- din goes straight for the main pilot’s seat once they get the imperial out of it, so he must feel really secure that he’s probably the best man for the job; he is genuinely a good pilot! (and after this I am wondering even MORE who taught him. who raised you within the mandos din??)
- even while everything is new and scary and falling apart we can live safe in the knowledge that at least frog lady and frog husband had a good day and will have a good and happy frog life together with their frog children
couple goals tbh
(I don’t necessarily know how it works for frog people but I uh. guess they got busy quickly huh hahaha good thing mando didn’t turn up again until later)
#star wars#the mandalorian#the mandalorian spoilers#the mandalorian meta#I've mostly seen people love this episode so I feel a bit like a buzzkill about mostly being 'meh' about it but what can you do lol#I actively disliked a lot of the clone wars mando stuff so I'm biased I suppose
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It’s Arrested Development: How ‘High Fidelity’ Has Endured Beyond Its Cultural Sell-By Date by Vikram Murthi
It’s easy to forget now that at the beginning of 2020, before the pandemic had taken hold of our consciousness, for a brief moment, High Fidelity was back. Not only did Nick Hornby’s debut novel and Stephen Frears’ film adaptation celebrate major milestones this year — 25th and 20th anniversaries, respectively — but a TV adaptation premiered on Hulu in February. In light of all of these arbitrary signposts, multiple thinkpieces and remembrances litigated Hornby’s original text on familiar, predictable grounds. Is the novel/film’s protagonist Rob actually an asshole? (Sure.) Does Hornby uphold his character’s callous attitudes towards women? (Not really.) Hasn’t the story’s gatekeeping, anti-poptimist approach to artistic taste culturally run its course? (Probably.) Why do we need to revisit this story about this person right now? (Fair question!)
Despite reasonable objections on grounds of relevancy, enough good will for the core narrative—record store owner seeks out a series of exes to determine a pattern of behavior following a devastating breakup—apparently exists to help produce a gender-flipped streaming show featuring updated musical references and starring a decidedly not-middle-aged Zoë Kravitz. I only made it through six of ten episodes in its first (and only) season, but I was surprised by how closely the show hewed to High Fidelity’s film adaptation, to the point of re-staging numerous scenes down to character blocking and swiping large swaths of dialogue wholesale. (Similarly, the film adaptation hewed quite close to the novel, with most of the dialogue ripped straight from Hornby.) Admittedly, the series features a more diverse cast than the film, centering different experiences and broadly acknowledging some criticisms of the source material regarding its ostensibly exclusionary worldview. Nevertheless, it seemed like a self-defeating move for the show to line itself so definitively with a text that many consider hopelessly problematic, especially considering the potential to repurpose its premise as a springboard for more contemporary ideas.
High Fidelity’s endurance as both a piece of IP and a flashpoint for media discourse is mildly baffling for obvious reasons. For one thing, its cultural milieu is actually dated. Even correcting for vinyl’s recent financial resurgence, the idea of snooty record store clerks passing judgment on customer preferences has more or less gone the way of the dodo. With the Internet came the democratization of access, ensuring that the cultivation of personal taste is no longer laborious or expensive, or could even be considered particularly impressive (if it ever could have been). Secondly, as one might imagine, some of Hornby’s insights into heterosexual relationships and the differences between men and women, even presented through the flawed, self-deprecating interiority of High Fidelity’s main character, are indeed reductive. Frears’ film actually strips away the vast majority of Hornby’s weaker commentary, but the novel does include such cringeworthy bits like, “What’s the deal with foreplay?” that are best left alone.
Accounting for all of that, though, it’s remarkable how many misreadings of Hornby’s text have been accepted as conventional wisdom. It’s taken as a given by many that the novel and film earnestly preach the notion that what you like is more important than what you are like when, in fact, the narrative arc is constructed around reaching the opposite conclusion. (The last lines of the novel and film are, literally, “…I start to compile in my head a compilation tape for her, something that's full of stuff she's heard of, and full of stuff she'd play. Tonight, for the first time ever, I can sort of see how it's done.”) That’s relatively minor compared to the constant refrain that Rob’s narcissism goes uncriticized, even though the story’s thematic and emotional potency derives from what the audience perceives that Rob cannot. To put it bluntly, High Fidelity’s central irony revolves around a man who listens to music for a living being unable to hear the women in his life.
While Hornby’s prose immerses the reader in Rob’s interior monologue, providing ample room for the character to spout internal justifications of his behavior, the novel hardly obscures or conceals this conclusion. Moreover, the film makes it unavoidably explicit in numerous scenes. Rob (John Cusack) triumphantly pantomimes Rocky Balboa’s boxing routine soundtracked to Queen’s “We Are The Champions” after his ex-girlfriend Laura (Iben Hjejle) confirms she hasn’t yet slept with her new boyfriend Ray (Tim Robbins), but doesn’t hear the part where she says she prefers to sleep next to him. When Laura informs Rob that she did eventually sleep with Ray, Rob completely falls apart. In an earlier, more pointed scene, Rob goes out with his ex-girlfriend from high school (Joelle Carter) to ask why she chose to have sex with an obnoxious classmate instead of him. She venomously informs him that he actually broke up with her because she was too prudish, an abrupt, cruel bit of business we actually witness at the film’s beginning. It was in her moment of heartbroken vulnerability that she agreed to quickly sleep with someone else (“It wasn’t rape because I technically said, ‘Okay,’ but it wasn’t far off,” she sneers), which ultimately put her off sex until after college. Rob doesn’t hear this explanation or the damning portrait of his teenaged self. Instead, he’s delighted to learn that he wasn’t actually dumped.
These are evidently low character moments, one’s that are comedic in their depiction of blinkeredness but whose emotional takeaways are crystal clear, and one’s that have been written about before. My personal pick from the film, though, comes late when Rob attends Laura’s father’s funeral. He sits in the back and, in typical fashion, turns to the camera to deliver a list of songs to play at his funeral, concluding with his professed wish that “some beautiful, tearful woman would insist on ‘You’re The Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me’ by Gladys Knight.” It’s a really galling, egotistical moment that still makes me wince despite having seen the movie umpteen times. Yet, it’s immediately followed by the casket being lowered to the ground as Laura’s sobs ring out in the church. In a movie defined by John Cusack’s vocal timbre, it’s one of the few times when he completely shuts up. From two-thirds down the center aisle, Frears’ camera pushes into Cusack’s face until tears in his eyes are visible, but what you really see is an appropriately guilt-ridden, ashamed expression.
However, none of this evidence carries any weight if your objection to High Fidelity is that Rob suffers no material consequences for his behavior. While Rob is frequently called out for his actions, he is never actively punished. He doesn’t, say, receive a restraining order for continually calling Laura after they’ve broken up or end up alone mending a permanent broken heart because of his past relationships. By the end, Rob and Laura get back together and Rob even starts an independent record label on the side. It’s a stretch to characterize Hornby’s High Fidelity as a redemption tale, but it is a sideways rehabilitation narrative with a happy ending that arises at least partly out of mutual exhaustion.
Those two elements—Rob’s asshole recovery and the exhausted happy ending—rarely seem to factor into High Fidelity discourse. Granted, there’s credence to the idea that, socially and culturally, people have less patience for the personality types depicted in High Fidelity, and thus are less inclined to extend them forgiveness, let alone anything resembling retribution. I suppose that’s a valid reaction, one against which I have no interest in arguing, but it’s somewhat ironic that High Fidelity has endured for reasons that have nothing to do with its conclusions regarding inflexible personal principles and the folly of escapism. Both the book and film are specifically about someone who slowly comes to terms with accepting reality rather than live in a world mediated by pop cultural fantasies whose unrealistic expectations have only caused personal suffering. It’s not unfair to characterize this as a fairly obvious epiphany, but considering we currently live in a world dominated by virtual echo chambers with an entertainment culture committed to validating arrested adolescence, it retroactively counts as “mature” and holds more weight than it otherwise should.
Near the end of High Fidelity, the book, after Rob and Laura have gotten back together in the aftermath of Laura’s father’s death, Hornby includes a chapter featuring five conversations between the couple unpacking the state of their relationship. During the third conversation, Rob and Laura fight about how she doesn’t care about music as strongly as he does, catalyzed by Rob’s objection to Laura liking both Solomon Burke and Art Garfunkel, which, in his mind, is a contradiction in terms. Laura finally admits that not only does she not really care about the difference between them, but that most people outside of his immediate circle of two don’t care about the difference, and that this mentality is indicative of a larger problem. It’s part of what keeps him stuck in his head and reluctant to commit to anything. “I’m just trying to wake you up,” she says. “I'm just trying to show you that you've lived half your life, but for all you've got to show for it you might as well be nineteen, and I'm not talking about money or property or furniture.”
I fell for High Fidelity (first the movie, then the book) as a younger man for the reasons I assume most sensitive-cum-oblivious, culturally preoccupied straight guys do: it accurately pinpoints a pattern of music consumption and organizationally anal-retentive behavior with which I’m intimately familiar. I spent the vast majority of my early years listening to and cataloguing albums, and when I arrived at college, I quickly fell in with a small group of like-minded music obsessives. We had very serious, very prolonged discussions filled with impossibly strong opinions about our favorite artists and records. Few new releases came and went without them being scrutinized by us, the unappreciated scholars of all that is righteous. List-making wasn’t in vogue, but there wasn’t a song that passed us by that we didn’t judge or size up. I was exposed to more music during this relatively short period of time than I likely will ever absorb again. Some of these times were the most engaging and fun of my life, and I still enjoy discussing and sharing music with close friends, but I’m not such a true believer to fully feel comfortable with this behavior. It’s not entirely healthy on its own and definitely alienating to others, and there comes a point when you hear yourself the way a stranger might, or maybe even catch a glimpse of someone’s eyes when you’re midst rant about some stupid album, and realize, “That’s all there is of me. There isn’t anything else.”
This is what Rob proclaims to Laura in the conversation when she tells him she was more interested in music during their courtship than she is now. It’s a patently self-pitying statement on his part that doesn’t go unchallenged by her in the moment or bear fruit in the rest of the novel. Yet, it’s this type of uncomfortably relatable sentiment that goes under-discussed. If High Fidelity will continue to have a life well after its cultural moment has passed, then it’s worth addressing what it offers on its own terms. Near the end of the book, Laura introduces Rob to another couple with whom he gets along quite well. When the evening comes to an end, she tells him to take a look at their record collection, and it’s predictably filled with artists he doesn’t care for, e.g. Billy Joel, Simply Red, Meat Loaf. “'Everybody's faith needs testing from time to time,” Laura tells him later when they’re alone. Amidst Rob’s self-loathing and sullen pettiness, Hornby argues that one should contribute in some way rather than only consume and that, at some point, it’s time to put away childish ideas in order to get the most out of life. It’s an entirely untrendy argument, one that goes against the nostalgic spirit of superhero films and reboot culture, but it doesn’t lack merit. Accepting that some values aren’t conducive to a full life, especially when it’s shared with someone else, doesn’t have to mean abandoning interests or becoming an entirely different person. It just means that letting go isn’t an admission of defeat.
It’s why I’ve always found the proposal scene in the film to be quite moving, albeit maybe not specifically romantic. It plays out similarly in both the book and the film, but the film has the added benefit of Cusack and Hjejle’s performances to amplify the vulnerability and shared understanding. Laura meets Rob for a drink in the afternoon where he sheepishly asks if she would like to get married. Laura bursts out laughing and says that he isn’t the safest bet considering he was making mixtapes for some reporter a few days prior. When asked what brought this on, Rob notes that he’s sick of thinking about love and settling down and marriage and wants to think about something else. (“I changed my mind. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I do. I will,” she sarcastically replies.) He goes on to say that he’s tired of fantasizing about other women because the fantasies have nothing to do with them and everything to do with himself and that it doesn’t exist never mind delivering on its promise. “I’m tired of it,” he says, “and I’m tired of everything else for that matter, but I don’t ever seem to get tired of you.”
This sort of anti-Jerry Maguire line would be callous if Laura didn’t basically say the same thing to him when they got back together. (“I’m too tired not to be with you.”) It’s possible to read this as an act of mutual settling, but I always thought Hornby’s point was personal growth and accepting one’s situation were intertwined. The key moment in High Fidelity, the film, comes when Laura finds Rob’s list of top five dream jobs. (In the book, Laura makes Rob compile the list.) At the bottom of the list, after such standard choices like music journalist and record producer, lies architect, a job that Rob isn’t entirely sure about anyway. (“I did put it at number five!” he insists.) Laura asks Rob the obvious question: wouldn’t you rather own your own record store than hypothetically be an architect, a job you’re not particularly enthused with anyway?
It’s Laura who convinces Rob that living the fifth-best version of your life can actually be pretty satisfying and doesn’t have to be treated like a cruel fate worse than death. Similarly, Rob and Laura both make the active decision to try to work things out instead of starting over with someone else. Laura’s apathy may have reunited them, and Rob’s apathy might have kept him from running, but it’s their shared history that keeps them together. More than the music and the romance, High Fidelity follows the necessary decisions and compromises one has to maneuver in order to grow instead of regress. “I've been letting the weather and my stomach muscles and a great chord change in a Pretenders single make up my mind for me, and I want to do it for myself,” Rob says near the end of Hornby’s novel. High Fidelity’s emotional potency lies in taking that sentiment seriously.
#high fidelity#nick hornby#stephen frears#john cusack#zoe kravitz#90s films#oscilloscope laboratories#musings#beastie boys#music#music movie#vinyl#vinyl film#jack black#tim robbins#adam yauch#vikram murthi#film writing#Film Criticism#hulu#reboot
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Man on Fire || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader
summary || roger and brian are arguing over who, out of the two of them, is more of a man. which somehow results in roger asking you to peg him. the logic is flawed, but any old excuse, right?
rating || explicit (18+). do not read if you are under eighteen. pegging, very slight sub!rog/dom!reader dynamics if you squint
word count || 7.5k
summary || you know the drill: here’s the link to the try series if you’re not caught up yet. now that the threesome fic is done, i have about three or four of these next chapters lined up ready to go. will i ever write and post something that isn’t from this ’verse? yes. but not right now. also i’m sorry about the title, i couldn’t resist.
masterlist
We need to talk was never a nice message to receive out of the blue, especially late at night. And when it was received from a friend that you were semi-regularly sleeping with, it was arguably worse.
No. Definitely worse.
what’s up? you replied to Roger, your palms already starting to sweat.
can I come over?
can u tell me what this is about first?
something to do with us
Your palms were certainly sweating now. You were unsure how to reply, and, while you hesitated, you received another message.
me and brian were arguing about something
Well, that wasn’t exactly news.
do u need to talk about it? you replied. what’s it got to do with me?
can I just come over please?
You sighed. yeah ok
Time to wallow in anxiety.
Roger was at your door twenty minutes later. You could tell he’d just come straight from work at the pub.
“It’s late, so don’t be too loud,” you said as you let him in. “Lucy’s asleep. And I should’ve been in bed half an hour ago.”
“We both know you weren’t going to be in bed half an hour ago,” Roger said. He raked his fingers through his hair. He still needed a haircut. You wondered idly if he’d ever get around to getting one, or if he’d just let it grow until he looked like some seventies rockstar. “But this won’t take long, anyway.”
You crossed your arms. “Well, is this a sit-down sort of conversation?” you asked, shifting from foot to foot. You hoped Roger couldn’t tell how nervous you were. There was no way to predict what he was about to say. Was he suddenly in love with you? Was he suddenly in love with someone else? Did someone die?
“No,” Roger said. “I’m too pissed off to sit down.”
“What did I do?” you said. You tried not to be immediately defensive, but you could hear the sharpness in your tone.
Roger shook his head. “No, nothing. You didn’t do anything. I’m pissed at Brian.”
“Oh.” You uncrossed your arms. “So why are you here? Just to vent?”
“No,” Roger said. “Can you just let me explain?”
“I’m all ears.”
“Brian made some…” Roger’s lip curled. “…joke about how I’m not ‘manly’, or whatever.”
You took a moment to process this. “That’s what this is about?”
“Yeah,’ Roger said, tetchy. “He made a joke about it. Brian. The least manly guy on the planet. And then Fred and Deaks laughed at it. It’s fucking stupid. Freddie literally wears eyeliner sometimes.”
“You can be manly and wear eyeliner,” you said.
“You can be,” Roger said. “But Freddie isn’t. Not most of the time. He’s a feminine guy. Which is fine, obviously. But what I’m pissed about is that Brian’s waltzing around with his skinny legs and fluttering eyelashes calling me ‘not manly’.”
You snorted a laugh. “Fluttering eyelashes?”
“Oh, don’t laugh at me, I know you’ve seen it, that’s not a weird thing to observe about him.”
“You’ve got skinny legs too, though, Rog,” you said.
“These?” Roger marched over to the wall and stuck one of his legs into the air – not very far, he was hideously inflexible – and propped it against the wall. “These legs are thick. With two Cs.”
“Get your foot off the wall,” you said, and Roger let his foot drop. “And they are not thick. They’re twigs.”
“Brian’s are twiggier.”
“Sure, okay,” you said with a shrug. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, I am not unmanly. I am manly as fuck.” Roger gestured to himself, as if that was supposed to support his argument. “And Brian and I started arguing about it, and started listing everything that makes someone manly, and long story short, you need to do up me the arse.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it again, then opened it for a second time. “I’m sorry?”
Roger crossed his arms resolutely. “We need to go shopping and buy you a strap-on so you can fuck me. Just really go to town.”
“How on Earth,” you said, “did you come to this conclusion?”
“It takes the fuckin’…” Roger searched for the right word. “The fuckin’ manliest of men to get railed, and particularly if you’re a straight guy, like me, getting railed by a woman. Because I’ve heard that that isn’t easy. There’s a lot of– of preparation involved, and stuff. So. If you fuck me, then I can tell Brian that I’m manlier than him. And I know you still haven’t fucked him yet, because he would’ve brought it up when we were arguing. Am I wrong?”
You needed a strong drink. “You’re… not wrong about me and Brian not… doing that yet, no,” you conceded. “But I am… struggling to follow.”
“What’s there not to follow?” Roger said. “So when are you free? This weekend? We can go shopping. Brian mentioned once you two had been to a sex shop just out of town, so it’s nearby. We can get lunch or something afterwards.”
“Brian mentioned…” You held up your hands like stop signs. “Wait, wait. Can we just hold up for a second?”
“What?”
You stared at Roger, slightly disbelieving. He stared at you, disbelieving your disbelief. You took a beat, and then spoke. “First of all…” You immediately aborted, shaking your head. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask you to further explain the reasoning behind this. I don’t understand, and, frankly, I don’t know if it’s worth my time trying to understand.”
“I already explained–”
You shushed him. “I’m still talking.” You placed your hands firmly on your hips. “So, new ‘first of all’: do I get a say in this? Did you consider that perhaps I wouldn’t be at all interested in spending money on a strap-on and fucking you?”
Roger just stared at you, blank-faced.
You sighed, your hands dropping. “Yeah, okay, fine, you got me there, of course I’d want to do that,” you muttered in defeat. You shook your head. “Rog, do you even actually understand the – mechanics behind all of it? Have you thought about the fact that you may not like it?”
“It’ll be fine,” Roger said. “We’ve managed everything else we’ve done so far just fine, haven’t we? If I don’t like it, I’ll just say so. But don’t tell Brian I didn’t like it.”
“When the hell would that come up in conversation?”
“Oh, he’ll want to know,” Roger said seriously.
“Then he can ask you,” you said. “I don’t want to get involved in this stupid dick measuring.”
Roger’s eyes went wide, a lightbulb springing to life. “Good thinking,” he said. “Dick measuring.”
“What?”
Roger’s face fell. “Actually, no, I’m pretty sure his dick’s bigger than mine,” he muttered in thought. He cocked his head to one side. “But is my dick prettier than his?”
He looked to you.
“I’m not even going to try answering that,” you said, deadpanned.
Roger waved a hand. “Whatever. We can decide for ourselves next time we have a threesome.”
You were a little taken aback by the nonchalance of the comment, as if having threesomes was now just a casual Friday night, which it certainly wasn’t. Your first threesome (closely followed by your second, a few days later), had been a few weeks ago now. You’d been talking about getting together again soon, but it was difficult to coordinate such a thing, and, as much fun as it was, it wasn’t high on your priority list. But apparently, according to Roger, it was right around the corner. You couldn’t help but wonder what sort of conversations he and Brian had been having about it behind your back.
You rolled your eyes, heaving a sigh. “Men.” You started shooing Roger out the door. “Yes, we’ll go shopping on the weekend. Please actually do some research into anal sex, though, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Roger said, and you knew that there was no way he’d remember to do that.
You opened the front door, and he hovered. “So when do you wanna… do it?” he said, giving you a cheeky smile that he knew you loved.
You scowled, trying to smother your own smile, and his smile widened. He could tell. You were terrible at hiding.
“We’ll figure it out later,” you said. “Can you get out of my house now? I want to sleep.”
“Can it be soon, though? I want to rub it in Brian’s face as soon as possible.”
“Fine,” you said. “Next week, whatever. Just text me.”
“Yes,” Roger hissed in victory. “Thank you! Don’t tell Brian!”
“Fine, whatever, goodbye,” you said, and he finally left, strutting away.
-
The weekend shopping trip didn’t pan out. You were asked to head into work last-minute, so instead, after work, Roger came over, and the two of you browsed for options online. You were a little wary that Roger’s eagerness seemed to stem not from actually wanting to be fucked, but wanting to be able to brag about being fucked, but you went along with it. You found a strap-on that seemed fairly basic – you’d never done this before either, so you didn’t want anything overly complicated – relatively cheap, and the reviews seemed promising.
You and Roger split the payment. Then, while you had him there, you looked up instructional information on anal sex, and forced him to read it. Although, to be fair, you were reading to learn as well. You could see it slowly starting to dawn on Roger the fact that, yes, there would be a large object going into his asshole, and that it would take some work to get it in there. He chewed on his lip.
You hoped he wasn’t going to back out. If he did, then he did, and that was fine, but then you’d have an entire strap-on that would be going to waste. Maybe you could just use it on Brian instead.
Then, of course, somehow, thanks to Roger, you ended up watching guy-getting-fucked-by-girl porn, and you took note of the way Roger’s cheeks flushed and his breathing sped up, the way he watched with rapture, his pupils blown. He kept up commentary as well, pointing out things he liked the look of and things he didn’t.
So it seemed he was genuinely interested in it, after all. Good. You were, too, and watching porn of it only made you more eager for the real thing.
You noticed Roger having to shift himself every few seconds, adjusting his jeans, so you reached over and began palming him, feeling him harden beneath your hand. The high-heeled woman on screen called the man she was fucking a little bitch and rammed her silicon dick into him, and the man moaned. Roger hissed, “Fuck,” and batted your hand away to undo his jeans, unzipping the fly, so you could wiggle your hand into his underwear. Barely even looking at what he was doing, he pushed your dress up your thighs and returned the favour, massaging your clit.
Jacking each other off, side by side, while watching porn, wasn’t something you thought you’d ever done before. Roger came first, and as soon as he did, he reached forward and snapped your laptop shut as you reached for a tissue from your bedside table to wipe your hand clean.
“I’ve heard plenty of those guys,” he said, tucking himself back into his jeans and sliding the laptop out of the way across the bed. He rolled onto his stomach, settling between your thighs. He was still breathing heavily, pink-cheeked and a little sweaty from his orgasm, and he looked gorgeous. “I wanna hear you now.”
He didn’t even bother taking your underwear off – he just pulled it aside to make room for his mouth.
-
The strap-on arrived about five days later, and you sent Roger a snap of the box. can u put it on for me? he asked.
So you did. It took some figuring out, and you were still fully dressed underneath it, which looked a little silly. It felt odd, to have weight at the front of your pelvis where you were used to having none. You sent Roger a snap, pulling a dumb facing and making a peace sign in the mirror, jutting your hips forward.
not really what I was expecting ngl, he replied, and you snorted. do u like it? feels ok?
yeah, you said. so when do u wanna meet?
send me a photo of u wearing nothing but that and I can make time to come over rn
You laughed. I’m free saturday night
I got work sat night :((
till when?
10-3. AM.
ew
ikr
come over before then, you said. come over at like 7
u want me to come over to urs and get fucked in the ass then do a 6 hour shift at work
was that not clear? You bit your lip, then went for the jugular, smiling to yourself as you did so. or are u not manly enough to handle that?
fuck u, Roger replied immediately. see u at 7 on saturday. DONT TELL BRIAN.
-
You were half-tempted to tell Brian, just for the hell of it. But you didn’t, even when you and Brian ran into each other at the library the next day, and ended up sitting next to each other, flirting with each other over text underneath the table as your books sat, untouched.
You and Brian also sat untouched. He had a lecture to get to, and, as tempting as it was to let him fuck you in the library toilets, your ‘no fucking at uni’ rule still stood.
So by the time seven PM Saturday rolled around, you were feeling a little pent-up. But you swallowed it down as best you could – you didn’t want to push Roger into anything he wasn’t comfortable with just because you were horny.
When he turned up, he had a glint of excitement in his eye. You knew that glint well – Roger had been fairly vanilla before he’d started sleeping with you, and nothing was more enticing to him than the prospect of trying anything new and a bit left of field.
“Show me, show me, show me,” he said as soon as he stepped in the door, and he followed you, a spring in his step, to your bedroom, where the strap-on lay on your bed, next to a heavy supply of lubricant.
“Oh, man,” he said, his eyes wide. He picked it up by the dildo, and turned to you, looking almost amazed. “This is gonna go in my bum.”
You spluttered out a laugh, and then Roger was laughing too, and both of you were struggling to breathe.
“Way to ruin the fucking mood,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes.
“Well, it’s true!” Roger said. A few bubbles of laughter escaped from him, and then he took a big breath and finally let the strap-on drop back onto the bed. “And I have thoroughly washed every nook, cranny, crack, and crevice of my entire body, so I hope it does go in my bum, otherwise that would have been a bloody waste of my time.”
“Hygiene would have been a waste of your time?” you said, quirking an eyebrow.
“This was ridiculous,” Roger said. “It was, like, pandemic-national-state-of-emergency-everyone-cleanse-yourselves level of hygiene. I haven’t been this clean since before I was born. And,” he added, swaggering over to you, far too proud for someone who’d just said the word ‘bum’ twice in about five minutes, “I’ve been practicing. So you’re welcome.”
“Practicing?”
Roger’s hands came to rest on your hips, and he bit his bottom lip, waggling his eyebrows at you. “Oh, yeah. With my fingers.”
“Oh,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “How many times have you fingered yourself, then?”
“Like, three times since last Saturday?”
“And?”
“It is… weird and uncomfortable.” Roger shrugged a shoulder dismissively. “But I haven’t been able to find my G-spot, so I imagine when you find it, it’ll make everything way better.”
“Oh, so it’s up to me now, is it?” you said.
“You’re the one fucking me,” Roger said.
You supposed he was right. “And how many fingers have you managed?”
Roger glanced away. “Uh, two,” he said, a little embarrassed. “It’s kinda hard when you’re doing it yourself.”
“Wow,” you said, your voice lilting suggestively. “So hot. You’re turning me on so much.”
“Hey, you asked,” Roger said indignantly.
“Yes, that’s true. I’m sorry.” You leant forward and gave Roger a soft kiss. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and stretched out for me, okay?”
Roger nodded, and grinned. “Okay.” His grin brightened. “Brian’s gonna be so jealous when he finds out.”
You rolled your eyes. “Enough about Brian, Jesus.”
“All right, all right.” Roger kissed you, and you both quickly fell into the familiar routine of it, the push-and-pull, give-and-take of it. You expected the gentleness of Roger’s kisses now, and it was all too easy to lose yourself in them, undressing each other with ease. You knew to tug on Roger’s hair every now and again; he knew you liked the feeling of his hand pressing on your lower back.
You found yourself on the bed, wearing only your bra and underwear. Hands were roaming further downwards, kissing were growing longer, needier.
You paused before things got carried away, rolling on top of Roger and straddling his waist, leaning down to kiss his neck. “How do you wanna do this?” you murmured, ghosting your lips along his skin.
Roger sighed, languidly rolling his hips up against yours. “The stuff we read said doggy style is easiest for your first time, right?”
You could feel his throat vibrating against your lips, and you kissed his pulse point, humming in agreement.
He moaned softly. “But… just doing this is really good too,” he murmured.
You smiled, and captured his lips in yours again. You ground against him, just a little bit, loving how he kissed you harder in response.
So you kissed like that for even longer, until your mouth was swollen. You almost forgot entirely why Roger was here, just enjoying the intimacy, but then you noticed you had to piss, and when you sat up you spotted the neglected strap-on at the foot of the bed.
“Oh, wait, hold up,” you said with a chuckle.
“What?” Roger said, sitting up beside you. “Oh, yeah, that.”
You both laughed, and you gave his thigh a light slap. “I’m gonna pee. I want you on all fours when I get back, all right?”
“Bossy,” Roger muttered, and gave your butt a light pat in return when you climbed off the bed.
When you returned, Roger wasn’t on all fours – he was inspecting the strap-on, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in concentration, a line between his brows.
“Nervous?” you asked, and he looked up sharply, surprised at your entrance.
“A little,” he admitted. He ran his fingers along the dildo, and gave you an anxious smile. “I hope I like it.”
You shrugged, and fetched one of the bottles of lube. “If you don’t, it’s nothing to worry about. I think it’s great that you’re trying.” You gave him a quick kiss. “All right, hands and knees.”
He got into position, and you ducked around him to kiss him again, stroking along his side soothingly. You drew back, and settled behind him with a determined sigh.
“Okay,” you said.
Roger peered around himself to look at you. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“I’ve never done anal, so not really, in all honesty,” you said. “But I have plenty of experience stretching out myself, so I’m gonna go with a similar method. It’s tried and true, after all.” You patted Roger’s arse, and he jumped a little, then laughed.
“You have such a cute butt,” you remarked, giving one cheek a squeeze. “It’s all round and perky.”
“Oh my God, stop,” Roger groaned in embarrassment.
“I mean it!” you said with a laugh.
“I know you do, that’s why I’m saying stop. And, for the record, I know I have a cute bum, you’re not the first person to tell me that. But I don’t need to hear it when you’re about to – y’know.”
You grinned. “Sorry, sorry. I was trying to make you feel more comfortable.”
“Just please get started.”
“All right, all right.” You pressed a kiss to the base of his spine, then poured lube on your fingers. “Ready?”
“Yes,” he huffed. “Go.”
Fingers dripping, you circled his entrance, massaging it. You could feel his whole body seize up immediately, like you’d electrocuted him. You squeezed his hip, and just kept working him open until you could push a finger in.
“Relax for me, Rog,” you said, rubbing his thigh soothingly. “You’re so tight.”
“I’m trying.”
“Stop trying,” you said. “Stop thinking about it. Hey, why don’t I just…” You reached around and ghosted your hand over his dick. He was soft, so you worked to get him interested, lightly jerking him off when he nodded his head.
“Okay, yeah, that’s better,” he breathed, and already he was relaxing more around your finger.
“Can you do it?” you said. “Sorry, it’s just a bit hard for me to do both.”
Roger hummed, and leant down onto one elbow, getting his balance. His fingers brushed yours as he wrapped them around his cock, and you gave him one final squeeze before you let go.
You could wiggle your finger around now, and you worked a second in, twisting and scissoring, dropping little words of praise and encouragement when Roger began to open up. It made your wrist and fingers ache, but you didn’t care.
You pushed your fingers in a little deeper, and Roger twitched in discomfort.
“How you going, you need a break?” you said.
Roger grunted. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Can we just… switch positions?”
“Sure.” You eased your fingers out of him, and he fell onto his side, rolling onto his back. He was pink and sweating.
You patted his knee, and grabbed a pillow, and he lifted his hips so you could slide it underneath him. “We can stop whenever.”
“I know,” he said. “I don’t want to. I want you to fuck me.”
You shuddered. “Yeah, okay. How about I suck you off for a bit, take your mind off it?”
“All right,” Roger said, and you settled between his legs, slipping his half-hard cock into your mouth.
You were careful not to get him too excited, but he moaned softly, his hand twisting into your hair. “Fuck, your mouth,” he breathed.
You got an idea. You pulled off with a wet sound, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Rog, curl your legs up to your chest a bit for me.”
Roger did. “Why?”
“I’m gonna try like this, okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah, go for it.”
You poured more lube onto your fingers, and then went back to blowing him, feeling him swell in your mouth, and made sure to take him deep as you pushed two fingers back into him.
Roger made a strangled sound, and you paused, glancing up at him, but he blurted out, “Keep going, keep going, it’s good.”
So you did. You were able to work your fingers even deeper, and then you began searching for his prostate. You knew it was hardly the best blowjob you’d ever given – you kept getting distracted by what your hand was doing – but it seemed to keep Roger’s mind occupied enough to stretch him out.
Then the pads of your fingers brushed over what must have been his prostate, because Roger stiffened, crying out. “Oh, Jesus, fuck,” he exclaimed. “What the f– Oh, that was my G-spot, wasn’t it?”
You nodded, mouth still full of dick, drool dripping over your lips, and Roger chuckled at the sight. “Okay, I can see why people like this now.”
You focused back on your task. You began sucking him off properly, swallowing around him, and he moaned appreciatively. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said.
Then you did a bit more prodding, and pressed against his prostate again, and he gasped. “Mm, fuck,” he groaned. “Christ, that feels so good.”
So you did it again, just massaging the area, and Roger’s dick twitched in your mouth. “Oh, oh, God, fuck, oh,” he blurted, his voice climbing in pitch with each oh. “Ah, fuck, no, I can’t, you gotta st– ah, mm– stop stop stop.”
You did, pulling off him with a slurp. You kept your fingers inside him, but moved them away from his prostate.
He was panting, and he scraped his hair away from his face. “Ah, God,” he said weakly. “God, I need to come. Can you fuck me now? Is this what it feels like when I get you all worked up and you start demanding that I fuck you?”
“I imagine so, probably,” you said. “You just really want to have something inside you?”
“Inside me, yeah,” Roger agreed. He laughed. “Which is… an unfamiliar need.”
“I don’t think you’re stretched out enough,” you said. “Another finger at least.”
“All right, yeah,” Roger said. “Go ahead.”
“You want me to keep sucking you off?”
“Not… right now. I need time to cool down a bit.”
You chuckled. “Okay.” You pressed a kiss to the inside of his knee, and then slid a third finger in. It went far more easily than the first two, and Roger just sighed at the intrusion, his eyes closing.
There was still some scissoring and wriggling to do, but the only sign of discomfort that Roger signalled was the occasional shift. For the most part, he just let it happen, until you were able to fuck him with all three of your fingers.
You found Roger’s prostate again, and he hissed. “Mm, God, fuck me,” he moaned, almost obscenely, and you stopped in surprise, laughing slightly.
“What?” he said, looking down at you.
“No, nothing,” you said quickly. “Just… wasn’t expecting that.”
“What?”
You took half a second to register that he really didn’t seem to know what you were referring to. You didn’t want to make him feel embarrassed, so you said, “Nothing. How do you feel?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Good.” You eased your fingers out, and Roger moaned again. “I think you’re ready.”
Roger sat up on his elbows. “Fucking finally. Get that thing on.”
You snorted. “All right, all right. You’re welcome.”
“Sorry. Thank you for fingering me, I know it took forever.”
You gave him a smile as you climbed off the bed. “That’s okay, I was happy to do it.”
You put on the strap-on. You were just fiddling with the buckles when Roger crawled over to you, and sat back on his haunches on the edge of the bed.
“You look really good with that on,” he said, his eyes roaming your body.
“You think so? Doesn’t look too silly?”
“Knowing that you’re about to fuck me? No. Not silly.”
You grinned. “I’m glad you’re so eager.”
Roger nodded, licking his lips, his eyes wide.
You went to the lube, and slicked up the dildo. You had to admit, there was something really hot about watching your hand slide up and down your dick, even if the dick was fake. Just the action of jacking yourself off was enough to turn you on. You felt powerful.
“How do you wanna do this?” you said, turning to Roger.
“I– I wanna ride you,” Roger said, his cheeks turning redder. “Can I do that?”
“Yeah, we can try that,” you said. You settled down on your back in the middle of the bed. “I’m ready when you are.”
Roger took a steadying breath, and then crawled over you, straddling your hips. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you said.
“Oh, no, I want to,” Roger said. “I just never imagined I’d want to. Funny how life turns out.”
He positioned himself above the strap-on, and you held it steady for him. “Easy does it, yeah?” you said, and he nodded, then started lowering himself down.
His eyes went wide, and he stopped almost immediately. “Ah, shit,” he panted.
You rubbed his thigh. “You’re all right, you’ve got this.”
He nodded. “I know, it just…”
He took a moment, and then kept going.
By the time he was fully seated, he was trembling from the effort, his skin glistening with sweat.
“How does it feel?” you asked gingerly, smoothing your hands up and down his thighs. It felt different to feel the weight of someone seated in your lap. Different, but definitely something you’d be happy getting used to. “You all right? Doesn’t hurt?”
“I feel… really full,” he said weakly.
“In a bad way?”
“N–No. Good way.”
You beamed. “Good!”
Roger gave you a wobbly smile back. “I…” He laughed. “There’s just so much of it. I don’t even know what to do right now.”
“Just start moving,” you said. “Move your hips. Just find out what feels good. Take your time, I’m in no hurry. We’ve got plenty of lube.”
Roger nodded, and then gave his hips a gentle rock forward. He made a small sound.
“Yeah, like that,” you said. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.”
Roger started rocking a little more, and his eyes slid closed, his brow furrowing.
“You can lean on me,” you said.
Roger did, bracing himself against your shoulders. “Is this okay?” he said.
“Perfect,” you said. You wanted to press forward to give him a kiss, but you didn’t want to jostle him too much, so you instead turned your head to press your lips to his wrist, and just kept running your hands over his thighs.
He started moving with more purpose now, and the look on his face and the sound that fell from his open lips made your core throb.
“F–fuck,” he whispered, and you felt his thighs clench has he lifted himself up off the dildo and back down again.
“God, Rog,” you breathed. You moved your hands to his hips, and started gently rolling your hips up to meet his.
“Oh,” he moaned.
You fumbled for the lube and drizzled some onto your hand, then started lightly dragging your fist over his cock in time with his thrusts.
Roger swore, his hips jerking forward into your hand. He sat back and started dragging himself up and down the dildo, experimenting and exploring, and then slowly picked up speed, beginning to bounce in your lap, just shallow bounces, and you pumped his cock, and he started letting out little ah, ah, ah sounds that were somehow both stupidly hot and stupidly cute at the same time. The natural rasp of his voice sounded fucking phenomenal.
You were in awe. “Shit, you look incredible,” you said.
Roger smiled down at you, and then he must have hit some spot inside him, because his smile disappeared from his face, replaced by what you could only describe as an O-face, and he stilled in your lap, shuddering. “Oh, fuck,” he whimpered. He leant forward again, on your shoulders, and slowly circled his hips, fucking himself slow and deep, his head hanging down between his shoulders, gasping moans dripping from his lips like honey. You slowed down your fist, swiping your thumb over the head and twisting leisurely, rolling your hips up to his nice and slowly.
“You’re so vocal for me,” you murmured appraisingly. “Sound so perfect.”
Roger moaned again.
“Yeah, like that,” you said. “Feels so good to be so full, doesn’t it? Can’t help making all those pretty sounds.”
“Yeah,” Roger ground out.
You could see the tension in his arms, and you used your other hand to card his hair from his face. It didn’t matter, though – his hair fell right back into place.
He went very still very suddenly. “Ah, fuck, fuck, more lube,” he grunted.
“On it,” you said. “Wanna hop off?”
Roger nodded, and you helped him up. He collapsed beside you on the bed, and you poured so much lube onto the strap that it dripped onto the bed.
“Do you want to keep going?” you said, and Roger nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Can I try fucking you like this?” you asked, settling in between his thighs.
Roger moaned, covering his face with his hands. “That’s so hot.”
You playfully threw his legs open wide, and he just about squeaked, and then you drizzled some lube onto your fingers and said, “Just gonna put my fingers in you, okay? Get you nice and wet for me.”
“That sounds gross,” Roger said with a giggle, but he let his arms fall beside him, and his legs more open still.
You eased a finger into him, then a second, massaging his opening, and he hummed. “It feels so much nicer when I’m not so clenched up,” he said.
“We got there in the end, didn’t we?” you said. You withdrew your fingers, and Roger sighed.
“Okay, you ready?”
“Yeah. You better fuck me good.”
“You may have to help me,” you said with a slightly nervous grin. “I’ve never done this before.”
“It’s okay,” Roger said. “I’ve never been fucked before, so we’re both in the dark here.”
You took one of his knees, bringing it over your hip, and then braced yourself on the bed and took hold of the strap-on again, sliding the tip into Roger.
“Slower, ah, slower,” he blurted, and you froze.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Roger said tightly. “Keep going. Not too slow, just a little slower.”
So you did, and Roger didn’t stop you again. You stopped about halfway, and then, feeling a bit silly but hoping you were guessing right, pulled out a touch and thrust shallowly back in.
Roger’s mouth fell open. “Ah, Christ.”
“Good?”
“Yes. Good.”
You kept it up, going in just a little more each time until you were all the way in. Your thighs burned. You never realised how strenuous this was. You’d have to give the boys more credit.
Roger looked almost in another dimension, like he didn’t know what to do with himself, his eyes wide and his mouth still open.
You leant over to kiss his jaw. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” he said. His eyes flicked to you, and his pupils were huge. “Yeah, I’m– I’m great.”
“I’m gonna keep going, gonna do a bit more, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”
Roger nodded.
You leant back a little, and then started thrusting, trying to copy what you liked on yourself, hoping it translated.
Roger let out a stuttering moan, and gripped the sheets beside him. “Oh, yes, fuck.”
So you kept going, hitting him deep. The sounds he was making were unlike anything you’d heard from him before – moans, but loud, punching out of him, and whining sobs. His fists twisted in the sheets.
Then you shifted, changing your angle, and he very nearly howled. “Right there, right there, please, fuck, don’t stop!”
Thank God no one else was home.
“Rog, touch yourself,” you said in a rush. “Come on, I wanna see you come all over yourself.”
Roger’s hand went to his cock, and he started fisting himself in time to your thrusts. His eyelids fluttered. “Not gonna – last long,” he gasped.
“Doesn’t matter,” you said. “God, Roger, it’s so hot how much you love this. You look fucking perfect, getting fucked like this.”
Roger moaned, and he begged you to go faster, so you did, and his hand sped up, matching you. He squirmed.
An idea sprung into your head, and, biting your lip to try to hide your smug smile – unsuccessfully – you said, “You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart?”
Roger let out a sound that was half a moan and half a laugh, and managed to get out, “God, I fuckin’ am.”
“You’re so close, aren’t you?”
Roger nodded frantically, his face flushed.
“How close?”
“S-so close,” Roger whined. “Fuck, ah.”
You had to pause to shift, and then you started fucking him again, and you must have done something right because Roger’s back was arching and he was begging you to fuck him right there, yes, so you did, and then two strokes of his hand later he came, white splattering all over his chest and stomach, and his chest was heaving as you slowed down, easing him through it, same as his hand.
You were sweaty and exhausted and unbelievably horny, but it was worth it to see Roger’s face when he’d come. It seemed to take forever for him to come back to Earth, and you just rubbed his thigh soothingly as you waited.
Then he looked down at you, blinking those big blue eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “You with me?” you said.
Roger nodded wordlessly, breaking out into a dazzling smile that was equal parts delighted and bewildered, and you laughed again.
“Holy fuck,” he said. He moved a bit, and then his face screwed up. “Ah, sensitive.”
“Sorry, it’s– I’m, um, still inside you,” you said.
Roger shuddered. “Why does that sound so hot? It shouldn’t, but it does.”
“I’m going to pull out,” you said. “Sorry if it’s uncomfortable.”
You slowly pulled the strap-on out of Roger, and he didn’t say anything, but his nose was scrunched.
You climbed off the bed and fiddled with the strap-on, unfastening all the clips and buckles, and letting it pool at your feet, while Roger reached for a tissue to wipe himself down. “I’ll clean this later,” you said, and joined Roger on the bed.
Roger pulled you in for a kiss. “I think my mind just exploded.”
You grinned. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.”
“Shut up.” Roger kissed you again. “We need to do that again some time.”
“We will,” you said. “I own that thing, you know. We can do this any time. Maybe next time we can have a go at me being in charge. Y’know, really in charge, like that time at my place.”
Roger breathed out shakily. “You have no idea what the thought of that does to me,” he said, his voice rough.
You wiggled your eyebrows, grinning salaciously, curling into him, smoothing your hand over his chest. “Maybe we can try tying your hands up, really drag it out, edging you for, like, an hour.” Roger’s breathing grew shallow, his eyes darkening. “See if I can make you come just from fucking and fingering you, not even touching your dick.”
“Fuck,” Roger hissed, and kissed you hungrily.
You tried to suppress your grin, but it was difficult, and you made a pleased noise against Roger’s lips, coming your fingers through his hair.
By the time you broke apart, you were aching. “Who would’ve thought you liked being dominated and pegged, huh?” you said, tapping his cheek with the palm of your hand.
“I’m so glad we started hooking up,” Roger said earnestly. “No other girl I’ve been with has suggested it. Who knows how long I would’ve gone without trying it? Could’ve been years.”
You chuckled. “What a tragedy that would’ve been.”
“You’re telling me. Dodged a fucking bullet.”
You both laughed, and you gave him a soft kiss. “Well, now we’ve done this once, should be easier next time. We can try out whatever you like.” You paused. “Given that we have the time to stretch you out properly, and when no one else is home…”
“I can prep myself,” Roger said. “Make life a bit easier. But why do we have to be alone?”
You gave him a look. “Uh, did you hear yourself? You were like a porn star. Uh, yeah, fuck, right there, uh, harder, fuck me, uh.”
Roger blushed profusely. “I did fucking not sound like that.”
“You most certainly did,” you said. You squeezed his hip. “It was hot as hell, don’t be embarrassed about it. But unless you want Lucy or the guys to know without a doubt that you’re being fucked in the arse, I’d suggest we wait until we’re alone.”
Roger grunted, and then yawned. “Ah, God, I could fall asleep right now.”
“You can’t, you’ve got work,” you said. “In…” You checked the time. “An hour and a half.”
Roger’s eyes closed, and he nodded sleepily. “I do,” he murmured. “But I’m also so tired.”
“You’re covered in almost every substance known to man right now,” you said. “You need to shower.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Roger said. “Can you carry me?”
You snorted. “In your dreams. You big baby.”
Roger smiled. “Worth a shot.”
“Come on.” You rolled off the bed, staggering slightly as your thighs protested. “Man, I’m gonna have to do some stretches or something,” you said. “I swear a pulled a muscle.”
Roger’s eyes cracked open. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No, just my thighs ache like a bitch. Doesn’t that happen to you?”
Roger hummed, his eyes closing again. “A bit. Guess I’m not as focused on it when I’m trying to get off. You don’t really notice it as much.”
“Hey.” You picked up the bottle of lube on the bed and threw it at him. “Don’t fall asleep.” It bounced off his ribs, and he recoiled.
“Ow!”
“Get up.”
He moaned in protest.
“You’re disgusting.” You gathered up your clothes. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess! Have fun getting fired!”
“No, no, I’ll shower, I’m coming,” Roger said. He took a deep breath in, and then hauled himself into sitting position, then rolled off the bed. He held out his arms, trying to hide his wincing. “Ta-da.”
“Well done, you stood up,” you said.
“Thank you.”
You couldn’t help but smile as you shook your head. “Stop being cute. Go on.”
Roger grinned, and headed towards the door. “You think I’m cute?” He tossed his hair over his shoulder. “Someone told me today they think I have a cute arse; would you agree?” He gave it a little slap.
You raised an eyebrow. “‘Someone’, huh?”
“Yeah, no one important.” Roger disappeared out the door before you could respond. “Come join me and my cute arse in the shower,” he called.
“Yeah, all right,” you called back. You dumped your clothes on the floor again, and hurried after him.
As a thank-you for this evening, he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe and fingered you in the shower until you’d come twice, completely shaking apart, having to lean against him for support, your knees weak. When you eventually climbed out of the shower – both of you now well and truly satisfied – you took one look at the mirror and said absentmindedly, “What if next time I fucked you from behind, facing a mirror?”
Roger made a sound that was almost a word but not quite, his towel dropping from his hands.
You turned to him, laughing, as you wrapped your towel around yourself. “What?”
“Are you serious?”
“Why, does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”
Roger nodded eagerly.
You shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, we can do that.”
Roger surged towards you, kissing you heatedly, gasping into your mouth about how hot you were, about how you’d fucked him so well. You had to slow him down eventually – you could feel that both of you were getting too riled up, and one of you had to be the responsible one.
But it was only when Roger realised that he was running late that he actually finished getting ready. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, and he gave you a firm kiss on your lips and a quick you’re literally perfect you’re the best friend ever. He had just ducked out of your bedroom door when you called, “Wait, Roger?”
He popped his head back in. “What, what, what is it?”
You opened your mouth, and then closed it again. “Nothing. Sorry.”
“No, c’mon, what?”
“How would you feel about, uh, me fucking you while Brian fucks me?”
Roger groaned, lightly banging his head on your doorframe. “Jesus Christ.”
“Sorry!” you said, holding up your hands in defence. “Sorry, bad idea, I just thought of it and I just–”
“No, I meant, like, Jesus Christ, I am about to leave for work and you’re giving me a fucking…” He sighed. “I have to go before anything more comes out of that mouth that will wind up with me pouring beer everywhere or smashing a glass because I’ll be too distracted thinking about it. That’s not a solid yes, I don’t know if I’m all that on board for Brian seeing me – like that, but I will still be thinking it over until my brain fries in my skull, so cheers for that. I’m going now, goodbye.”
“Bye!” you called after him. “Sorry!”
“Fuck you!” he called back cheerily, and you heard the front door open and close again.
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Gone Fishin’ [PART 4]
A/N: And so we’ve come to the thrilling conclusion! It took me 22 days but I finally finished this fanfic. I am satisfied with my work, with the help I got along the way and the friends I’ve made as I wrote every chapter. I never thought I would go back to writing like this. I remembered my days at uni. Best four years of my life. I learned so much, I wrote so much and I loved life so much. Honestly, I have serious skin issues and as I wrote every chapter, I felt my skin being healed. This is not a metaphor or anything. My skin literally got clearer and smoother. The two weeks I spent away from my notebook, my skin condition came back aggresively... If I was looking for a sign to never stop writing, that’s it. I’m sorry I’m rambling about myself when ya’ll just want to read some Clouis fluff. I’ll leave you guys be. Word Count: 8274...ya’ll might wanna grab some snacks while you’re at it.
Clementine’s decisive feet led her away from the school quickly. Her trusty knife in her right hand just in case things got messier than they already were. She was alert and determined to be alone on her way there and back. The quiet steps behind her argued otherwise.
She wasn’t sure who was following her, she only knew it couldn’t be AJ for several reasons. Two of them being that his legs were still too short to keep up her pace and of course, she had made it pretty clear with her yelling earlier that she didn’t want him there. She reflected on the latter and made a mental note to apologize to the kid once she was back. He didn’t deserve to be yelled at for wanting to help her.
The person behind her had been silent so far. She figured that if she didn’t say anything, they would remain a mystery, but she was dying to know if it was Louis. Maybe there was still a chance to fix things and make them less awkward. She swallowed her pride and broke silence with an annoyed sigh.
‘I’m sure I said I wanted to do this alone’
She waited for a response and Aasim’s voice made her look back at him in surprise.
‘I know what you said, but I promised AJ I’d keep you safe’
She squinted at him, resenting the assumption that she needed his help for something so trivial.
‘I don’t need anyone to keep me safe. I’m perfectly fine on my own. It’s been like that for years an--’
An arrow flew close past her, interrupting her speech and making her blood freeze. She heard an agonizing groan and a thud a few feet away from her and realized Aasim had just saved her life.
‘I owed you that one. Now we’re even’ He gave her a smug grin accompanied by a raised eyebrow.
She breathed deepy, walked towards the corpse and retrieved the arrow.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be an asshole about it’ She returned the deadly weapon back to its owner.
‘It’s okay, Clem, I can see it hasn’t been a normal day for you’ He smiled comprehensively as they began walking side by side. She didn’t expect that response, that was not his usual inflexible and stern attitude. She wondered if his usual behavior was just a façade.
‘It’s been one crazy day’ She mumbled mindlessly.
‘Yeah, I can see that, too’ Aasim recalled that one time, not long ago, he and Louis had an unexpected little boy talk while hunting.
‘You do?’ Her confusion grew by the second
He nodded, always looking around and with his bow ready to shoot.
‘Yeah, Louis can be a bit of an idiot and sometimes he does and says shit that make things weird but he means well’
‘I never said this was about Louis’ She sentenced, frowning once more. Aasim now looked at her, taking offense in her innocent defense.
‘How stupid do you think I am, Clem?’ She glanced at him as he looked forward once again, resuming his explanation ‘It may not seem like that at times, but Louis and I are actually good friends, despite our obvious differences. I respect him and value him a lot as a person. We have deep conversations after dinner some evenings, when he’s not in the mood to play with his cards’
‘It’s not that I didn’t know you were friends. I just didn’t know you were so close’ She excused herself for not seeing it before.
‘I mean, there’s no way you could have known that until now, because you’ve only been here a couple of very intense weeks, but I hope it makes more sense now that it was me who delivered Louis’ letter to you that night, and why we share the music room to hide from the world...and also the fact that I’m walking next to you right now instead of any other person. He knew you needed space at that moment for whatever reason, but he wanted you to be safe as well. I didn’t promise AJ I’d keep you safe, only’
‘So...how close are you with Louis exactly?’ She dared to ask, letting him know immediately she wanted to know just how much information he had on her.
‘Close enough to know he has a ginormous crush on you’ He gracefully shot an arrow at a walker in the distance and turned his head to her to finish his sentence ‘And from what I’ve seen so far, I assume the feeling is mutual’
‘It’s a little more complicated than that...’ Clementine scratched her forehead, looking downwards, instantly regretting her question. Aasim approached the fallen monster, who was trying to crawl closer to them, and kicked him in the head. As he was busy taking a knife from his pocket to end the walker, another one made his way to the dirt road, limping hurriedly behind him.
‘Aasim, watch out!’ Clementine ran with difficulty in Louis’ coat, but made her way on time. She pushed the monster away and helped by her adrenaline rush, she drove her knife into his skull several times.
She stood up, panting and adjusting the coat
‘Thanks, Clem’ He managed to say breathlessly
‘Now you owe me again’ She helped him up and they continued their march towards the cabin.
‘So...things are complicated’ Aasim proposed the follow up with a rather hesitant voice. Clementine’s only response was a quiet tired sigh
‘I get it, too soon’
The skies were turning darker by the minute. They decided it was time to turn on Aasim’s flashlight.
‘Why don’t you tell me how you found out about Louis’ crush’ She suggested, trying to hide her conspicuous curiosity. He decided to play along.
‘I suspected it at first, but one day it slipped by him while we were arguing in the music room. He tried to brush it off and play it cool right after, but he was so flustered he couldn’t keep up with his lies and ended up talking about you for at least the following thirty minutes’
‘Seriously, thirty?’
‘Well, it stretched up to a little longer than an hour when he got comfortable. The day he wrote you the letter, he spent the whole afternoon at the piano with the piece of paper in front of him. After he finished writing, he wanted me to improve it, but I refused to read it. Whatever he wrote had to be a reflection of his own raw feelings for you. I didn’t want to ruin that with my own words’
Clementine didn’t say anything for a good five seconds, until Aasim shone the flashlight on her face, only to notice she was lost in thought and her face was bright red.
‘Knock it off, Aasim!’ She protested, dazzled by the blinding light
‘Sorry, sorry...hey, can you not tell Louis? I shouldn’t be telling you these things, but I wanted to cheer you up a little bit, since you’re having such a crazy day...’
Clementine’s eyes widened a little. It was refreshing to see Aasim trying to lighten up the mood. At times he resembled something similar to the older brother she never had.
The boy was trustful, but also good for a banter and they could learn from each other in a diverse amount of matters.
‘Thanks for your good intentions, but I might have oversimplified it when I mentioned my day was crazy before’
‘Well, duh…’ Clementine glanced at his friend ‘I don’t buy it’
‘What?’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘The story about the five walkers appearing out of nowhere and giving you trouble. I call bullshit on that’
‘We were attacked, that’s no bullshit’
‘Come on, you can easily deal with that amount of walkers. I’ve seen you fight together’ A hint of admiration decorated his words, to which Clementine scoffed modestly.
‘We had to run because we were outnumbered, what’s not to believe?’ She insisted, almost like a child
‘Shh, wait’ Aasim made her stop and pointed the flashlight at one side of the dirt road, suspicious of a couple of figures on the ground. Clementine remembered that spot. She had been there with Louis that very afternoon.
They took a couple of circumspect steps closer to the bodies. She recognized a familiar weapon at the distance and ran to pick it up.
‘Huh, only two walkers near Chairles. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ Aasim eyed at her with a sly smirk.
‘Alright, Mr. Detective. It wasn’t five walkers like we said before…but these two did get us by surprise’ She swung the leg chair idly as she looked at the smashed skull of the legless walker that threatened Louis’ life ‘We were...arguing’
Aasim’s playful expression faded slowly as Clementine showed more and more signs of being upset.
‘Clem, did Louis...do anything bad to you?’ Aasim’s halting words made her heart sink. ‘I mean, we joke that he’s an idiot but if he did something that he shouldn’t have done, then-’ She shook her head, trying to erase any mental images his assumption brought to her head.
‘Of course not! how could you even think that? he’s your friend!’
‘I’m sorry, it’s just, you know...you’re my friend too, and the world is so fucked up that you never know... ’ He quickly apologized as they started walking again. Clementine interrupted him once more.
‘He didn’t do anything wrong, he…I don’t think he would dare to do anything to hurt me…he has been so good to me and AJ and It would never cross my mind that he has second intentions’
‘I’m sorry for thinking about the possibility… I had to make sure’ he apologized once more. Clementine didn’t say a thing, so Aasim kept talking to avoid the much feared silence ‘But if you have real feelings for him, then I don’t know why you are so conflicted about…’
‘I never said I had feelings for him’ She tried to sound assertive but she stammered and instinctively hugged herself defensively, realizing once more it was Louis’ scent that didn’t let her think clearly.
‘So, I’m guessing the reason that you’re in his coat right now, and the reason he didn’t come for Chairles just to give you some space isn’t because you two shared a romantic moment alone in the woods and now that you’ve realized your true feelings about him, you don’t know what to do with your them’
‘Something like that…’ she didn’t want to admit that’s exactly how it went ‘How did you figure it out?’
‘I’ve been there…’ He mumbled. Clementine’s surprise and curiosity battled inside her mind
‘Wait, so you and Louis…?’
‘No! Oh, no..’ Aasim panicked ‘Nothing has ever happened with me and Louis, I can assure you that’
‘Because if it has, then I d--’
‘Nothing. Has. Happened’ He emphasized ‘Besides, he the only thing he talks about lately is you, so...there’s that’
She tried not to direct the conversation to her feelings again
‘So, who’s this person that made you feel things that you didn’t know how to handle?’ Aasim opened his mouth, hesitant at first.
He looked at her; she was smiling at him mischievously. She had had such a tiring day, he might as well amuse her with more of his life. He looked ahead as he confessed what was in his heart
‘Ruby’
‘That’s so sweet’ Her smile widened as she shifted her look from him to the road ‘You two would make a very cute couple’
‘Thanks’ Aasim managed to mutter. Clementine thought maybe he really could understand what she was going through. Her follow up question came out slow and cautiously, testing the waters of their new growing friendship.
‘So have you two...kissed?’
He shook his head
‘I have only thought about it, but I’ve never actually dared to do it’ He admitted bashfully after some seconds.
‘Huh…’ Her soft smile slowly turned into a pensive frown. Maybe if she hadn’t dared like she did, things wouldn’t be so complicated between her and Louis.
‘So, there’s still some things that don’t match in your story’ Aasim’s observation burst her bubble
‘Hmm?’
‘Did you guys kiss back there where the two walkers were or at the cabin, while fishing? Both places seem plausible for such scenario...‘
‘What makes you think we kissed, we haven’t kissed…’ She blurted out her words almost violently, giving Aasim even more reason to maintain his theory on the matter. Unwillingly, her tone rose up considerably, like when she tried to convince Javi she and Gabe didn’t like each other, to no avail. Her voice tended to betray her like that at the most crucial times.
‘I could tell from his expression back then...something new happened to him, and since you both spent the whole afternoon together, it was safe to assume that you kissed’ Clementine raised an eyebrow skeptically ‘Also you just mentioned kissing, and judging by the way you phrased it, it must have been on your mind before this conversation.
‘How’s kissing something new to Louis? Not that we did kiss but... I’m curious’ It sure didn’t feel like Louis didn’t know what he was doing. There’s no way that was his very first kiss, she thought
‘He’s never kissed anyone’ Aasim confirmed ‘well, except for that one only time we played spin the bottle years ago, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the same experience’ He nudged her playfully, she shook her head, annoyed, but told herself to remember to ask him for that anecdote later. She had a more urgent question to ask.
‘His expression...what was it like?’ She gripped Chairles as Aasim answered.
‘I’ve only seen that face once; years ago, during a hunting trip...it was fear. Fear for the loss of a loved one. He was afraid he might lose you forever if nobody helped you’
‘What hunting trip, what happened?’
‘I’m really not the one to tell you that story…but it’s not a pretty one’ He mumbled grimly.
Clementine fell silent, letting his friend’s words sink in her mind. One of the things Louis told her right after their kiss was that he had nothing to lose. In which moment did he realize he was afraid of losing her? Who did he lose years ago?
She knew how cornered and confused she felt when Louis began questioning her reasons not to pursue a relationship with him, so she decided to let him tell her his life stories at his own pace.
‘Well, we’re here...’ Aasim stopped and pointed the flashlight around.
‘There’s no suspicious sounds or movements’ Clementine observed, following the light.
‘Don’t let your guard down’ He warned
She responded with a nod and walked closer to the abandoned spears, only then she remembered she had carelessly tossed hers at one moment. Aasim, on the other hand was content that they had enough food for the following day
‘Nice job, Clem…’ He cheered , taking a closer look at the bucket ‘How did you manage to catch all these fish?’
‘Louis helped a lot’ She shrugged
‘Really? He must be very invested in fishing’ He joked, but his friend was not amused ‘I’m sorry’
‘I didn’t want to scare him, you know...’ She fidgeted as Aasim cocked his head slightly to the side, listening attentively ‘I just think I felt an overload of thoughts and sensations I’ve never felt before and didn’t know what to do with myself, that’s why I ran back to the school, like a coward. If I knew things would get this complicated, I wouldn’t have kissed him in the first place’
‘That’s strange’ He chuckled, to Clementine’s surprise. He helped her put the tools back in the cabin ‘All this time I thought Louis was the one that kissed you, not the other way around’
She couldn’t help but chuckle along, recalling the few weird seconds Louis spent looking at her before she dared made a move.
‘He froze’
Aasim couldn’t believe her words. Louis, the usually charming, easy going dude that literally never shut up, froze before Clementine. He’d pay a big sum of money just to travel back in time and space and witness that.
‘Really?’
She nodded, amused.
‘But like I said, after we kissed, everything changed’ Her smiled slowly turned into a worried smirk ‘I never imagined I could feel the way I felt at that moment’
She felt her cheeks go warmer once more at her declaration.
They walked out the cabin and closed the door. As Clementine walked down the steps, she remembered there was one thing she hadn’t found yet.
She snatched the flashlight from Aasim’s hands and ran to the last place she remembered she saw her hat.
She found it a few steps far from the riverside, probably blown by the wind, but still dirty and forgotten. She ran towards the worn out accessory, picked it up, shook it a few times to remove the dust.
‘I see you got your priorities straight’ Aasim walked closer to her, with the bucket full of fish in his left hand.
‘Shut up’ She laughed as she put it on, exchanged Aasim’s flashlight for Chairles and then began their walk back to the school.
‘There must be an interesting story behind that old thing’ he suggested. She knew by now he loved a good a story.
‘This old thing keeps me sane. It helps me remember all the important lessons I’ve learned over the years since I was a little kid’
‘It’s cool to realize how some ordinary objects hold so much emotional power over us. Like your hat, it looks like any other baseball hat to me, but of course to you it means so much more’
Clementine nodded agreeingly
‘My dad gave it to me before the world changed forever’ She paused to rethink her words ‘Well, he didn’t actually give it to me, but it’s the only thing that belonged to him that I still have with me. The only thing that reminds me of my parents the way they used to look like...and not the way I last saw them. This hat has traveled the same amount of miles, seen the same horrible things, and people I loved risked their lives for it when it got lost’
‘Well, fuck’ Aasim sighed, overwhelmed
‘Yeah, how’s that for a book?’
‘You know, that’s actually not a bad idea...!’ He glanced at her, actually considering it
‘I was joking, Aasim’ She shook her head, regretting that she indulged him with stories that were yet to be told. It was too late, he was already scheming and drafting in his mind.
‘I mean, you have all kinds of anecdotes, right? You have been on the road for years and visited places we have never seen before. We should sit down and try to write a couple of paragraphs. Personally, it helps. I always feel at ease once I finish writing my day. Maybe it would do you well, too. Give it a chance, if you don’t like it, then you can stop anytime’
‘You know what, it could work’ She mumbled, almost lost in her own thoughts.
There were moments she would like to treasure forever; like the day she met Lee, and saved him from her babysitter, all the things she learned from him along the way and all the people she met during the few months they spent as a family; especially Kenny, Katjaa and their son Duck.
She often found herself daydreaming about what Duck would look like, and how he would be like if he had never been bitten. Maybe if she put those thoughts into written words, then she would stop thinking so much about it.
She would love to tell AJ’s story, from how she met his parents to the present day, with all the details in between, including all the people who help them get to where they were now. She wouldn’t dare to leave out the first time he cried in Kenny’s arms. He had such powerful lungs for someone so little. She wouldn’t forget to write about the first time he fussed in her arms, either; no matter how many times she had told him that story already. Every time she’d finished saying ‘and in that moment, I realized how special you were to me and I’d love you forever, no matter what.’ She could tell that was AJ’s favorite bit. She was sure Javi would have loved teaching him to play baseball, and AJ would have loved to play baseball with him. And while Gabe wasn’t around anymore, she wanted to tell the little boy about Javi’s dorky nephew who taught her the obscure rules of Euchre. The book would make a nice birthday present for him, and he would use the blank pages to write or doodle whatever he wanted.
Of course, not all of her memories were pleasant. Actually, most of them were just the opposite.
Their adventures with the New Frontier and then the McCarroll ranch and all the nightmares that came with them would make up a horror book on its own. Honestly, she had something to fit almost every genre.
Aasim’s voice sounded in the background but she couldn’t distinguish any words.
‘Huh, what did you say?’
‘I said that you need to fix your dilemma with Louis first’ His tone changed into a stern one in half a second ‘I don’t want to see him suffer, Clem, so before you talk to him, you need to know exactly what you want’
‘Ok...’ Her mood dropped along with his voice.
‘Besides, you can’t write with a head full of confusion, so right after you solve your mess with him and you lovebirds finally get together, we get down to business. Literary business, that is’ He offered her half a smile, just to let her know it wasn’t his intention for his last words to come out mean or aggressive.
Suddenly, a wind blow from the south breathed through the dirt road, producing a shiver that took her already algid body by surprise.
‘We better hurry. You must be freezing’ Aasim observed with concern. She nodded, tightening her fingers around Chairles as an instinctive response to the cold air against her skin. She clenched her jaw as an effort to stop her teeth from chattering, but it was futile.
They hurried their steps and kept silent for some minutes.
‘We can’t get together, because I don’t like him’ She muttered softly. She tried to convince herself of the last statement by repeating it over and over in the form of a whisper, like a mantra she knew was a complete lie
‘Why deny it? The world already ended. It’s not like something worse is going to happen right after you realized you have feelings for him’
‘I have been on the road enough time to know that something terrible will happen if I let my emotions drive my actions. It’s not that I don’t like him...but I can’t. You wouldn’t get it…’
‘I know I have lived pretty much my entire life sheltered and I can’t possibly imagine all you have gone through, but I also know that staying true to your feelings is not the same as letting your emotions control every aspect of your life’
‘Yeah, maybe you’re right’ She was the one to offer him a weak apologetic smile now ‘That was nice advice, thanks’
They walked a little longer until Aasim heard the rattling of leaves behind them. He pointed the light to the source of the noise, only to find three walkers slowly limping their way out of the woods and into the road.
‘Hold this, point it at them’ He gave her the flashlight, put down the bucket and readied his bow to get rid of the incoming menace.
He was too focused shooting to notice a fourth walker approaching them from the opposite direction. He was mostly flesh and bones, but he was quicker than the rest
Clementine planted the flashlight in the ground for Aasim and ran to the stray walker, knocking him over with a strike of Chairles at the chest. Once down, she crushed his skull by beating him repeatedly with the wooden weapon.
‘Need any help?’ She rushed to his friend, ready to attack but he was already retrieving the three arrows he had used to get rid of the walkers. She stood in earnest admiration ‘You...decked three walkers by yourself…just like that?’ He turned to face her and gave her a tired smile in the middle of the duskiness.
You didn’t know I had it in me, did you?’
‘I’m actually really impressed’ They laughed, picked up the flashlight, the bucket and continued making their way to the school.
They walked for a while until they finally spotted the first traps hanging from the trees, welcoming them to the school surroundings.
‘We’re almost there, just a little further’ Aasim announced ‘Please, remember what I told you about Louis...and remember not to disclose anything I told you...’
‘You have given me a lot to think about, Aasim...and of course I won’t say a word to anyone about your little crush on Ruby
‘You just mentioned it’
‘I mean, starting now’
‘Just remember, Louis is an outstanding person when he wants to be, although he prefers to act stupid at times...and I think the same of you’
Clem raises an eyebrow
‘You think I am stupid?’
‘I think you choose to act stupid’ Clem shook her head, letting him know that wasn’t making it any better ‘...not always, though’ he added quickly ‘I’m just saying, you seem to love drowning in a glass of water’
‘I don’t think you can say that to me when you can’t even bring yourself to tell Ruby how you feel’
‘Can you please stop mentioning her? This is about you!’
‘Fine, fine…’
‘Look. You’ll know what to do. You’re a smart person and the music room will be always open for you to come and write your tales of horror, or whatever it is you want out of your mind’
‘I thought I had to tell you and you would write’
‘If I did that, I wouldn’t be helping you, now would I?’ He shook his head ‘No, if you want, I could read what you write and give you notes on what to improve. The mood of each story needs to be drenched in your own experiences and nobody can do that for you’
‘Thank you, for everything’ She gave him a warm, sincere smile, which he returned spontaneously.
Soon after, they found themselves in the clear, amongst the traps. In the distance, Aasim could see Mitch and Violet, probably keeping the area free of walkers until they arrive. He signaled them with the flashlight and they were met halfway.
‘You made it back’ Violet told Clementine, relieved.
‘We had some encounters, but it’s all good’ She answered, walking next to her
‘How did it go?’ Mitch asked. Aasim gave him the bucket of fish in response.
‘We’ll have a good dinner’ He smiled. Violet and Mitch shared a look
‘Everyone else ate already’ Violet told them
‘Well, not really everyone…’ Mitch added ‘Violet and I had dinner before coming here, but Louis and AJ refused to eat until you guys showed up’
Aasim glanced over at Clementine but she didn’t look back at him.
When they arrived at the gates, Clementine heard her name from above, but she couldn’t see anyone standing in the watchtower, she could only distinguished two different silhouettes moving in the dark.
AJ went down the ladder as fast as a bullet, eager to greet the girl. As soon as they crossed the gate, he tackled her and she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug as the rest of the teenagers gathered around Omar to ask for their share of food, complaining to Aasim about how long it took him and Clem to get back. The kid made their embrace last long enough to worry Clementine. He didn’t want to let go and she knew exactly what she did for him to act that way.
‘I’m sorry I yelled at you before’ She apologized gently ‘It wasn’t your fault’
‘I’m glad you’re back. Are you... safe?’
‘No bites’ She assured him smiling, and nodded the group ‘Aasim helped me get back fast’
‘Not fast enough…’ He mumbled almost bitterly ‘But I’m happy he helped you’
They stood up and walked closer to the benches
‘He’s great! He had already killed three walkers by the time I finished fighting just one with Louis’ chair leg’
‘Chairles’ AJ corrected, Clementine rolled her eyes, amused.
‘Right, right... Chairles. This thing is heavy and hard to use...But you should have seen Aasim with his bow’
‘I could have, but you didn’t let me’
‘Come on, kiddo, I apologized’
‘Yeah’ He laughed ‘But I’ll rub it in your face whenever I get the chance’
‘Oh really…? Then I’ll make sure that the tickle monster visits you every time you bring it up’
‘You know what? Nevermind’ AJ sat in one of the benches, apart from the rest. He wanted to eat with Clementine alone, and she was well aware of it, from the length of their hug back at the gates.
‘Don’t sit down just yet, go get our plates, I have to give this back to his owner’ She pointed at Chairles.
‘But I just sat…’ AJ grumbled under his breath..
‘Come on, I’m tired too’ She noticed him trying his best to hold back his attitude.
‘Okay’ He finally sighed, standing up again.
As he walked closer to the older kids, Clementine approached Louis with caution. He was sitting at a different table, eating alone.
‘Hey’ She greeted softly. As soon as he looked up at her, she looked down at her hands.
‘Hey’ He smiled, despite her evasive eyes ‘It was about time you guys showed up’
She put Chairles on the table.
‘I… brought it back’ He moved his eyes from the weapon to her uneasy stance. He noticed she was still wearing his coat, but didn’t mention it. She looked adorable like that, and as far as he was concerned, that was the opposite of a problem. Besides, she probably still needed it more than him.
‘Thanks, Clem…’ He breathed his words of gratefulness as he reached for her fingertips as a subtle reminder of his unchanging feelings towards her.
As soon as she felt his hand touching hers, her heart fluttered and she took a step back.
‘You’re welcome. I have to go’ She turned around as quickly as she spoke. He didn’t care, because he knew that deep down she felt the same.
‘I’ll see ya around’ He raised his voice to be heard in the increasing distance. Her answer was a look back and a vague waving of her hand. He was enraptured by her whole existence and the way she tried to act around him now, like they never lived all those meaningful moments in such a short amount of time.
‘Welcome back’ AJ smiled while scraping the sides of his bowl with a spoon ‘You took your time, I almost ate your food’ Clementine sat down in front of the boy, taking in the whole scene with raised eyebrows.
‘AJ! You didn’t wait for me? You ate all your food already...and I was gone for two minutes!’
‘I was hungry’ He protested, pouting ‘...I still am’
‘I know, I know…’ She had to remind herself to use her kind words.
‘I’m sorry, Clem’ He insisted, looking at her with his big eyes. She couldn’t resist his puppy eyes, and finally smiled at him.
‘AJ…‘ She began ‘About what happened today...I wasn’t mad at you at all, I was just…’
‘Don’t worry Clem, I know what happened’
‘You do?’ She froze with the spoon midway to her mouth
‘Yeah, Louis told me everything’
‘He did? Everything?’
AJ nodded enthusiastically. She panicked inside. How could Louis do such a thing?
‘Yeah, he told me he had to save you from a river shark after you fell into the river while fighting against five walkers that attacked you while you were fishing and that’s why you were cranky’
Of all the things that happened that day, that was the only sentence she didn’t expect to hear.
‘Excuse me AJ, I wasn’t listening...did you just say a shark?’
‘Yeah, he told me the whole name, even... but I can’t remember...it was uh, a great white river shark, I think, I’m not sure’ He explained as she glanced back at Louis, who was now accompanied by Aasim.
‘Yes, that’s exactly what happened’ She sentenced, focusing her attention back to her meal and hoping AJ wouldn’t ask further questions.
‘It was a very hard day for you’ He observed sympathetically
‘It kinda was…’ She agreed with a faint smile ‘How was your day, what did you do while I was gone?’
‘I spent the whole evening with Louis. He was walking around and I saw him while I was on lookout duty, I said hi to him and he offered to keep me company. It was nice, we talked about a lot of things’
‘I’m glad you had fun, kiddo’
AJ waited for her to finish her food. As soon as she stood up to clean, he took the bowls from her
‘Let me, you are more tired’ He ran away to wash the dishes before she could even answer.
She sat down again, unable to hide her surprise. She looked back at the boys at the next table. Aasim was finishing his food and Louis was tweaking and cleaning Chairles. They didn’t seem to be talking about anything in particular. She prayed they weren’t talking about her.
As she turned her head, she saw AJ running back to her
‘What do you want to do now?’ She told him, ready to indulge him with a whole hour of doodling if he wanted.
‘I want to go to bed. I’m beat…’ He admitted.
‘Oh, then...in that case, let’s go’
They started walking back to the dorms. AJ took her hand, taking her by surprise once again. She tightened her hand around his, as a way to reassure him everything was alright.
Clementine opened the big door to their room and AJ ran straight to his bed.
‘Clem…’
‘Yes, AJ?’ She sat down beside the little boy, already knowing what he was going to request.
‘Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?’
‘Of course...what will it be tonight? A story or a song?’ She asked as she cuddled him in a motherly fashion.
‘I just want you to be here…You don’t need to do or say anything’
She caressed his cheeks with the back of her hand, deeply endeared by his words
‘I’m here now’ She said softly as she watched him close his eyes.
The room felt enormous when it was pitch black and silent, but the warmth that they gave to each other gave them a sense of safety and hope for the future.
‘Clem…?’
His quiet call caught her dozing off
‘Hm?’
‘I was afraid today’ She held her breath ‘I wasn’t there to make sure you came back. I thought you...I wouldn’t know what to do if you died...’
‘Hush, now’ Her voice lowered as soon as she heard herself in his voice ‘You know exactly what to do if something bad happens to me and I’ve prepared you to go on without me eventually. We’ve discussed this a thousand times’ His upset silence let her know once more what his opinion on her backup plan was ‘I know it’s not a pleasant conversation to have, but I need to be sure you’ll know what to do in every possible scenario, starting with the possibility of us separating again, maybe forever’
‘I guess…’
‘Alvin Junior…’ She warned
‘I know, Clem, I know…’ He huffed, turning on the bed to face the wall
Clementine sighed and tried to choose her next words more carefully to avoid upsetting the boy even more, but before she could even open her mouth to answer, he broke silence once more.
‘Can we stop talking about this, please?’ His lips quivered as he spoke, fighting back honest tears of embarrassment ‘I just wanted to let you know how I felt about you leaving...’
She felt him sniffle and cry silent tears in the dark. Her first reaction was to hold him tight to comfort him just like she used to do when he was just a small baby in the midst of the constantly decaying world.
‘I’m sorry…’ She kissed the back of his head ‘It won’t happen again’
‘I love you Clem’ He wiped away his tears, regaining control of himself.
‘I love you back’ She whispered her usual response ‘Try and rest…’
He remained silent for several minutes, lost in his many grim thoughts and the secretes he shared with Louis in Clementine’s absence.
‘You smell funny’ He yawned before finally giving in to his exhaustion.
‘Well, that’s a weird way to end an argument…’ She muttered to the already sleeping boy.
She closed her eyes for several minutes, basking in the unusual peace that the silence brought along with the deep darkness of the night. She waited to fall asleep, but some thoughts were still running wild inside her mind. She made sure AJ was fast asleep and sat up on the bed to make a final reflection on everything lived during the day. She looked down at herself and immediately remembered she was wearing a certain piece of clothing that didn’t belong to her; the only thing that AJ clearly couldn’t recognize as hers.
She held the lapels, brought them closer to her face and inhaled. It did smell funny. A mixture of smoke and the usual mustiness that was ever present in old clothes. Years of having to change her attire due to her constantly developing body had made her grow accustomed of that smell. However, there was one distinctive scent she couldn’t quite recognize; it was slightly citric, but also had a slight hint of spices; a rare combination for such an old coat. Not that she complained. It‘s very Louis, she thought, breathing in again, recalling every pleasant memory she had with him.
She looked over at AJ, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to leave him for a couple of minutes to return the borrowed garment.
She lit the candle and made her way out of the room quietly, trying not to bump into anything in the half dark space.
She carefully closed the sturdy door and made her way to Louis’ room, thinking over and over about all the pros and cons that came along as consequences of her actions. Every step she walked closer to him, she convinced herself it was a good idea to leave her deeply rooted fears behind, stop acting like a feeble kid and let new adventures find them as the strong team she knew they were.
She stopped in front of a big wooden door, hoping it was the correct one.
She didn’t knock. Instead, she opened the door slightly and slided in as quietly as she could. She walked closer, making sure he was alone.
The room was a complete mess, at least as far as she could see. She looked for him in the darkness and found him sleeping sprawled on one of the beds with his face buried in the pillows. Smiling at the scene, she stepped closer, but tripped over Chairles, making Louis jolt awake.
‘Huh, wha-who’s there?’ He tried to look around with his eyes still half closed.
‘Shh, don’t yell…’ She whispered, leaving the candle on his desk ‘It’s me, Clementine’
‘Clem!’
In his state between dream and reality, he tried to stand up without stepping out of the bunk bed and hit himself in the head with the frame.
The sound of his forehead hitting the metal structure made Clementine cringe and rush next to him
‘Ah, fuck fuck fuck…’ He swore, curling up in pain with his eyes shut close as he pressed his hands against his forehead.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…let me see’ She climbed on the bed to move his hands away and press her fingers against his now tender forehead, trying to measure the damage taken.
‘Ow, ow...careful…’
‘That’s going to look really ugly if we don’t apply cold right now’ She observed.
‘Don’t worry I’m going to look like a unicorn no matter what…it’s not the first time this happens, but it always hurts’ He said, sitting up again to face her
‘What do you mean it’s not the first time it happens?’
He shrugged, making her glance at his freckled shoulders. She thought her day was already done with these little surprises, but she was clearly wrong.
‘I’m a light sleeper, it actually happens more often that I’d like to admit’
‘You sleep shirtless…’ She looked away, notoriously blushing
‘What?’ He looked down at himself ‘Oh…yeah, I do’ He reached over and grabbed the tattered shirt that was sitting next to his pillow
‘I’m sorry I came here so late’ She apologized without taking her eyes off the flickering candle
‘Time is never a problem when it comes to you’ He said, trying to sound smooth as he struggled to slide into his clothes in the dark.
She giggled, no longer being able to pretend she wasn’t fascinated by his sleepy voice or his shoulders specked with freckles all over.
‘I’m here to give you back this old thing’ She stood up, took off the old coat and handed it over to Louis ‘By the way, it’s super hard to run in it’
‘That’s because it’s not made for tiny girls’
‘You’re the worst’ She laughed
He looked down at it, then back at her and without taking her gaze off of her, he threw it behind him
‘Thank you’ He smiled, well aware she wasn’t there just for that. He stood up in front of her ‘I see you have your hat back, too’
‘I do, how perceptive of you’
Louis took it off of her and put it on his head. She didn’t protest. She wore his stupid coat the whole day, it was only fair to let him try the hat on for a couple of minutes, at least.
‘How do I look?’ He smiled
‘I like your hair up, better than trapped in a hat’ She admitted, taking the old accessory off of him and tossing it over his coat.
He appreciated her tender honesty, smiling at her.
‘Well, I have my coat back, you have your hat back...is there anything else to be said between us?’
Clementine crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.
‘OK, fine...I think there are still some unsaid things since this afternoon’
‘I agree’ He smiled triumphantly ‘So...what’s going on in that head of yours?’
Clementine gulped and sighed, trying to remain as calm as she could.
‘I think I’m ready to face my fears head on…’
‘My darling Clem...I’m concussed and I just woke up…’ He faked a frown ‘Can you be a little more clear?’
She closed her eyes, this time to gather some patience. She knew he had understood her well.
‘What I’m trying to say is that I want to give us a chance’
His face lit up but still played along
‘But when you say give us a chance, you mean…?’
She rolled her eyes and leaned over to kiss him. He breathed in through his nose at the surprisingly warm touch of her lips. As she pulled back, she could see him looking at her with joyful beaming eyes. He held her hand in his and this time she didn’t back away. Instead, she let him lead her beside him. She studied him longingly as she put one of his dreadlocks behind his ear and cupped his cheek ever so gently, just like he did to her back at the river. He closed his eyes as she ran a single finger across his freckles, tracing the form of his nose and his eyebrows.
He opened his eyes again and to his amusement, he found her lost in his features. ‘You’re so beautiful…’ She whispered as he pulled her closer and brushed his mouth against her lower lip.
‘Right back at ya’ He smiled against her skin, receiving her soft pecks across his jaw line.
It was nice to feel cherished that way, with just the right amount of passion, alone and away from the crumbling world.
She put her head on his shoulder and sighed against his neck, giving him goosebumps all over.
‘I have to go back…’ She murmured glumly
‘What’s your rush, Cinderella?’ He hummed while running his fingers through her hair‘It’s not midnight, yet’
‘It’s way past midnight and,besides... promised AJ I’d be there’
‘Well, he is asleep, right?’
‘He’s actually a very light sleeper...Just like you’
‘Come on, Clem…’ He pleaded softly, kissing the corner of her mouth ‘Stay a little longer?’
‘I’m sorry…If you want, you can come over and keep me company while I watch over him’ She stood up and took the candle from the desk. He rested his back on the wall, considering her offer.
Just as she turned around, the door opened.
‘Hi, Louis...I can’t find Clem...have you seen her?’ AJ peeked over, but they could only identify his worried voice
‘Hey, little dude…’ He waved, smiling kindly at the boy like he always did..
‘I’m here, kiddo’ Clementine put the candle back on the desk and sat on the bed in the same position as Louis, patting the space between them, as an invitation to join them.
‘Clem! I woke up and you weren’t there’ He frowned as he climbed on and sat in between Louis and her ‘You promised me you wouldn’t leave again’
‘Funny how she never stays in one place, huh…’ Louis eyed her over the little boy, making her shake her head. AJ welcomed the joke with a small chortle.
‘Sorry, goofball…I wanted to return Louis’ coat, since you complained that it smelled funny’
‘Hey, I resent that’ He nudged at the kid, playfully.
‘I for one, think it doesn’t smell as bad as it looks, but buddy here confessed he didn’t like it just as he was falling asleep’
‘I don’t remember doing that’ AJ crossed his arms
‘The funny smell could be a perfume I found years ago in the headmaster’s office. I liked how it smelled, so I kept it...and I wear it..you know, in rare occasions. It makes me feel good about myself’ He confessed ‘Don’t tell anyone though...if anyone found out, I’d have to kick you out in a second, and I don’t any of us would like that very much’
The three of them laughed at the slim possibility of that ever happening.
‘I think you’d miss us too much, and would go look for us right after’
‘And I’d have to save you from hordes of walkers’
‘Yeah, right, you saving me...’
AJ didn’t understood at all the small banter between them, but wanted to contribute to the conversation as well
‘Like when he saved you from the five walkers and the great white river shark, remember, Clem? He interjected enthusiastically.
‘You saved me from the shark and all of the walkers…? I actually forgot about that!’ She spout sarcastically with her eyes fixed on his.
He shrugged apologetically as AJ kept on talking
‘That’s maybe because you’re too tired Clem, we should go back to sleep’ He got down the bed and held the girl’s hand.
‘You’re right, AJ’ She reached for her hat and followed him ‘Maybe a little rest will make my memory better’
‘Wait, guys’ Louis stopped them on their way out ‘Do you wanna crash here for the night?’
‘Really, we can stay here?’ AJ’s smiled bloomed instantly as he looked at Clementine. He made little to no effort to hide his admiration towards the freckled young man.
‘Sure you can, little dude! Climb aboard!’
The boy ran back to the bed and lay down, already closing his eyes to sleep. Louis laid his jacket over AJ before looking up at his beloved girl.
‘What say you, Queen Clementine?’ He acted out with his arm extended to her as AJ encouraged him with another small giggle ‘Are you in?’
‘Okay…’ She blew out the small light of the candle ‘If it makes him so happy to waste his time with you…’ She took his hand and lay down next to AJ.
‘Some might say he’s not the only one who likes to waste his time with me’ He lovingly interlocked his fingers with hers into a relaxed lace, cuddling the boy as he peacefully drifted into the land of dreams. They stared into each other’s eyes, under the poor lighting offered by the growing moon through the semi boarded window. Clementine was the second to fall asleep, soon after AJ.
Louis remained awake as long as his body allowed him, wondering what he did to get such incredible company that night. That was the best the three of them had slept in months.
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me being (very) brutally honest with the signs
Aries- You’re such a goddamn hothead all the goddamn time. Not everyone likes to be constantly doing something every second of every day. You get angry with people for the smallest and most trivial reasons but god forbid someone take a dig at you. You’re such a hypocrite and it’s annoying as fuck. You act like an edgy teenager that’s constantly throwing a tantrum. You also boss people around and expect everyone to just follow your lead and if they don’t, you get pissed at them for having a mind of their own. You seriously need to take a look at your life and stop seeing everything as a fucking challenge that’s rigged against you. My god, I get tired just being in your presence.
Taurus- You’re a lazy fuck and way too materialistic and possessive. You literally have no desire to do anything because you love to sit on your ass. You take “treat yourself” to a whole new level and not in a healthy way whatsoever. It seems like every chance you get you cause arguments and then you contradict whatever the other person is saying just because you can’t look at anything from a different point of view. Even if you get to the point where you realize you’re in the wrong and the other person is right, you’ll just continue to argue for the sake of arguing and god forbid your ego take even the slightest blow. It’s irritating as shit like you really think you know best when in reality you’re just a stubborn bitch. What a bore.
Gemini- Look, I know you guys get a lot of flak. But take this into consideration...... it’s because most if not all of it is FUCKING TRUE. You have so many different personalities I don’t know which one is even real. You gossip 24/7 and flip-flop between who you talk to and who you talk about. You’re completely unreliable and unpredictable and also clingy as fuck. Seriously, I feel like I can’t get away from you. I just want to go to the bathroom, I don’t need to hear the story right now about how Sarah said that Dylan said that Kimberly found a sock in the dryer that wasn’t hers. Literally no one cares. Another thing that you do is once you get tired of someone, you just throw them away like garbage. (Also Trump is a gemini, and I know you guys can’t control that but like come on. Of course he’s a gemini.)
Cancer- You really need to stop being so whiny or I’m actually going to lose it. Everyone has problems so stop acting like such a victim all the goddamn time. You’re so moody all the time and you act like a small child that needs to have their diaper changed. You also cling onto people as soon as you meet them and cry if someone doesn’t answer your text within 5 fucking minutes. Don’t you have your own life to live? Oh wait, I forgot you spend every second in a dark room and refuse to come outside unless it’s to answer the door because you ordered shitty takeout. You consider changing your clothes adventurous and honestly it’s so boring. Introverted doesn’t even describe you, you’re more like a complete hermit (CRAB. HA!)
Leo- Hey leo, wow, are you actually reading this? I’m kind of shocked because I never thought you’d ever stop looking at yourself in the mirror. Seriously, you’re probably the most vain sign out of all of us. So much so that if someone criticizes you in even the smallest way, you get so offended and act like you’ve been shot in the chest. You think so highly of yourself, and while it’s great to have confidence, you take it to the next level, which is extreme arrogance. You love to have the conversation focused around you. You’re the type of friend that if someone is telling you about their problem or just their day in general, you’ll interrupt them and start talking about yourself and it’s DAMN ANNOYING. How do you still have friends?
Virgo- I’m gonna tell you right now, you’re not as perfect as you think you are. You’re so quick to critique other people that you write them off as not good enough before even getting to know them. You’re the type of person that would tell their friend that they were breathing too loudly. For fucks sake, you’re such an over analyzing pedant it makes me want to slap you in the face with my fucking asymmetrical hand. Your pessimism is damn near blinding, I probably wouldn’t want to hang around you for more than 10 minutes or you’d make me feel self conscious about how I fucking walk or some shit. You can’t take or make a joke. You’re skeptical about everything and you’re completely inflexible. You like to think of yourself as an intellectual but really you’re stuck up, narrow minded and someone I constantly find myself rolling my eyes at.
Libra- You are manipulative as shit. You’ll tell someone they look good without even looking up from your phone. You lie all the time and don’t really give a fuck if you hurt other people’s feelings because you really only look out for yourself. You’re also a huge fucking coward. When your friends need you to have their back and actually be there for them, you run and hide and say, “Oh sorry I just didn’t want to get involved!”. What a lame fucking excuse for ditching your friend in their time of need. You’re also extremely indecisive to the point where it’ll take you 3 hours just to choose where you want to go eat. It’s tiring as fuck. Just MAKE A CHOICE FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE. Have your own fucking opinion. You’re like a goddamn sheep.
Scorpio- Why the FUCK are you so aggressive for no fucking reason? You manipulate people just for the fun of it. You get jealous so easily and usually you don’t even have a reason to be jealous. You just are. It’s pathetic. You like to think that you’re so cool and mysterious but in reality people just see you as a moody and brooding asshole that no one really wants to bother getting to know. I mean, why would they? What’s the point? Every time someone even tries to get close to you, you completely brush them off and act like you don’t care about them because keeping your “mystifying” aura is soo important to you. And if you do let someone in, you treat them like they’re your possession and it’s creepy as hell. You obsess over them and you want to control them. God forbid they hang out with someone that isn’t you and then you resent them for no goddamn reason other than having a life of their own. Do me a favor scorpio and don’t talk to me.
Sagittarius- Honestly if a sag is reading this, you’re just straight up getting a taste of your own medicine. You’re tactless as shit and it makes me not want to be around you, ever. You’re inconsiderate of others and impatient with everyone. If someone isn’t moving up to your standards you will become agitated and aggressive and then you take it out on the person. You constantly need to be doing something else because your attention span lasts about 2 fucking seconds. You act like an 8 year old. You’re also really superficial. You don’t bother getting to know the deeper layers of a person because, like I said, you’re impatient and also just plain lazy. You take people for granted and are careless when handling the feelings of people closest to you. You’re also a really self-obsessed know-it-all. Go climb a fucking tree, sag.
Capricorn- Four words. Lighten. The fuck. Up. You are by far the most power-hungry of all the signs. You take everything so completely seriously that I don’t even know if you understand what “fun” even is. You always have to have two feet on the ground at all times and you can never ever be spontaneous and it’s so fucking dull. You’re conservative and disdainful nature can be so overbearing at times that even your friends need to get away from you. That is, if you have friends. You’re a complete pessimist so who knows if anyone can actually tolerate that. You constantly have to be the most successful person in a room, and you make sure you reach this level of success through abusive and controlling behavior towards the people around you. Your selfishness grosses me out.
Aquarius- I asked you what time it was. I didn’t ask you if I was afraid of time passing or the fact that it’s a manmade construct. For fucks sake, just shut the fuck up about this deep shit for once. I don’t want to contemplate how large the universe really is at fuckin 8:30 am on a Monday. You’re rebellious even when it doesn’t matter and honestly all it does is piss people off. You’re constantly trying to deviate from the norm that you make the same fucking mistakes that other people already made, but you don’t fucking learn from other people’s mistakes because you always have to go your own way. Maybe listen to other people for once? You’re the most detached sign out of all of them and you hurt people by acting aloof all the fucking time but you don’t care because you chalk it up to “this is who I am!!! I need my freedom!!!!”. You need to actually think about how your actions affect people you care about because if you don’t, you’re REALLY gonna end up alone and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.
Pisces- You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself all the time and get it through your head that you’re not always the damn victim. You don’t take responsibility for your actions and you always find a way to blame it on someone else because you’re NEVER in the wrong, are you? Poor little pisces. You’re not as innocent as you want everyone to believe. You’re constantly daydreaming and it becomes really annoying when I’m trying to talk to you and you just completely zone out because you love living in your little imaginary world. You’re the WORST at solving your own problems and conflicts because instead of dealing with them you just avoid it all together and end up leaving the mess for someone else to clean up. You’re really nosy- you love to get in other people’s business. But you don’t go to the person directly, you have to be sneaky about it and gather rumors from other people. You’re also very over-sensitive. Out of all the signs, you’re by far the most likely to respond to this post saying how this isn’t true and that I’m just a “big fat meany!!!” and then add a bunch of angry/crying emojis.
(disclaimer: Don’t worry, I don’t really hate your sign (unless you’re a * * * * * * ... lmao). This was just for fun and I know it’s harsh. Don’t take it too personally. You’re an individual and ultimately you determine who you really are. Except for you, * * * * * * . Fuck you.)
#signs#the signs#signs as#the signs as#zodiac signs#zodiac#zodiac signs as#astrology#horoscope#horoscopes#the stars#aries#taurus#gemini#cancer#leo#virgo#libra#scorpio#sagittarius#capricorn#aquarius#pisces#brutally honest#honestly#i hate everything
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Starting a Novel Series (A Prequel to a Rewrite of a Rewrite of a Shitty Medieval Fantasy, Also Trying to Stay Sane During Finals)
So, after that first post, you’re probably thinking “Author, you asshole! You’re just one of those neurotic ‘perfectionists’ that can never finish anything, aren’t you? Are you even writing anything right now, fuckface?” The answer is, yes, actually! Granted, very slowly.
As I already admitted, I have a few story concepts and folders of varying girth that I thought to spend some time explaining and throwing around in future posts. But I’d be shooting myself in the dick if I didn’t remember what I’m writing right now and why I’m doing so in the first place. They say that the first novel is always the worst for a new writer. It’s gonna be the one with the most mistakes and errant brushstrokes, never mind actually finishing the damn thing. I have many stand-alone concepts that are good for a book, maybe two. I thought to myself that none of those deserved the first carving, considering I love each dearly and I would be sending my firstborn to be judged and sent to the firing squad, as it were. Instead, I looked to the novel series, the medieval fantasy that I wanted to write, yet also thought it would definitely be disastrous to start an entire series on a faulty premise. Which is when I realized that this novel series had an almost self-contained story within it that I could work on, that felt like a much more solid foundation and could possibly withstand my mistakes.
Aria no Tenshi, the working title for my medieval fantasy novel series, started as a much, MUCH crappier short story called “A Silver Flower”. It was about a mercenary mage escorting one of the last light mages in the country of Evaniel to some epic destiny. Oh boy, let me tell you, I don’t look back fondly on it. Sure, the country seemed interesting and diverse, kind of a hodgepodge of different city-states. The mechanics behind the magic were interesting enough, particularly because, in retrospect, even then I valued a more interesting and asymmetrical balance of power in the underlying mechanics of the supernatural rather than thinking of it in strict shounen terms. But holy shit, the characters were flat and uninteresting and the story arc made a straight line look like non-euclidean geometry. I got two things out of that first draft, though: first, if the character isn’t interesting or real or alive in any way, you are most certainly looking at this world through a fucked up lens, and second, world-building is worth keeping, even if everything else is garbage.
The second run was a little better. I kept the characters that mattered from the first, which was the General Amidius Dant and his adopted son, Greyfell. They took over as protagonists, along with new, more interesting characters. The villain was still the same, political intrigue was added, which thankfully kicked up the story arc, and more world-building happened. Still not very good, but improving.
My focus tilted more and more towards Greyfell, and on a personal level I was being exposed to more and more stories, being heavily influenced by things like the shounen genre, My Chemical Romance (I’m fully aware you just laughed at that), Stephen King’s Dark Tower series and Iain M. Bank’s The Culture. Because of this, the story absolutely exploded in my mind, and I found myself conceptualizing often over the course of years and years to come. It resulted in a worlds-spanning story concept served in three major arcs:
1 - Greyfell and other civil war orphans from the medieval Evaniel are kidnapped by the opposing faction and brought to a strange land. Greyfell yearns to return home to his father, but his journey is interrupted by myriad conflicts which escalate with the arrival of an ethereal villain called Tsukikage, come to collect a debt on the civil war faction’s leader. This develops into knowledge of the existence of other worlds and a full-blown war against the old forces, empowered by the ethereal woman’s dark gift.
2 - Greyfell and his motley friends each deal with personal demons and major crossroads in their life, as they grapple with their newfound power and knowledge in the wake of Tsukikage’s defeat. This second arc happens in separate stories, with each member of the group being focused on, away from the group as a whole.
3 - The protagonists are faced with a new group of world-crossing Swordmages, who profess the goal of crossing into the foundation of all existence, to rewrite it as they wish. Their immense power results in total war and devastation across many worlds, even as the protagonists struggle with harsh truths and crises of self.
Evaniel, being the country of origin of the initial protagonist and the setting for much of the lore’s foundation, became a focus for world-building and a great source of fun. In contextualizing the events that led up to the novel’s three arcs, I had to polish hundreds, even thousands of years of rough history and cultural evolution that would give rise to the many cultural and historical implications that make an Evahn an Evahn, and different from people from other worlds. Rather than working in large chunks, though, there was also the immediate necessity for contextualizing the motivations and events prior to Greyfell’s birth and young life, particularly those of his adoptive father and birth parents. That’s where the idea for a prequel came to mind.
It was important that Greyfell was raised as a knight, in a stringent and moralistic way, not by a man who was evil, but merely a tad too inflexible. It was important that this man, the General Amidius Dant, arrived at his station not because he fully earned it, but because there was no one left alive that could fill the role. It was important that Amidius be a Swordmage, be part of an Order of said Swordmages, and so should Greyfell’s birth mother, whose conceptualization was already fairly solid in my mind. Because the specifics of the preceding events were not necessarily important, considering that most of these characters need not exist in the present of the novel’s events, it allowed me to build events in backtracking, from effect to cause, and allowed me to build characters to the best of my ability without worrying whether they would last or not, because ultimately, they wouldn’t. I’d always had a better time of envisioning a story in its grandest strokes first before getting to the specifics, especially in knowing how a story ends more than how it begins, but this had been the first time I had found myself building a castle from the roof down, to put it one way.
The result was Iseult’s story, the prequel to Aria no Tenshi, a medieval fantasy with more political intrigue than fantasy fighting, and an entire cast of characters who I now mourn retroactively. Iseult, the brilliant leader, grieving widow, and morally compromising hero, along with her Swordmage comrades, set off myriad events and motivations that ripple into the proper beginning of the novel series, even some that once seemed vague or flat. After reading all this, hopefully the least you, reader, can take away from it is that if you don’t know where to start writing and, like me, you fear failure far too much, it definitely helps to backtrack in your stories’ footsteps.
I will try to ramble with more specific details about the story’s characters and structure in the next post.
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Here’s another chapter from my book about my brother. I’m not breaking the text up with subheadings like a regular post. This is not a final draft, so there may be some overwriting and rough spots. Let me know your thoughts, particularly if something is unclear or doesn’t work. All feedback, both positive and negative, is appreciated.
Chapter: The Big Reveal
When I was around twenty-three, I picked up the ringing phone in my townhouse one Saturday afternoon; my sister Bridget dispensed with the normal pleasantries and said she had something to tell me. The tone of her voice oscillated between gossipy excitement and shock. An alarmist by nature, I sat up on my bed, where I had been lounging.
“Oh my God, I think Kevie is gay,” she blurted out.
Of all the possible scenarios racing through my head such as salacious affairs, unexpected divorces, or heinous crimes — that wasn’t one of them. My stunted big-brother instinct to protect a sibling kicked in. No way our little brother was gay. Even though I was jealous of Kevin’s good looks, I took a certain brotherly pride in seeing him with beautiful young women who stared doe-eyed at him.
“Don’t be stupid,” I snorted dismissively. “He’s not gay; he’s shy.”
But Bridget stood by her reporting.
Kevin and his fabulous friend Kelly
Now don’t misunderstand my reaction; it wasn’t homophobic (okay — it was a little homophobic but not as bad as it would have been years before). By that time in the early 90s, gay rights had definitely made inroads into the culture as attitudes slowly changed, and I had jettisoned a lot of erroneous nonsense about homosexuality. I felt pretty certain that homosexuals were born, not made, though I still thought of it as a genetic error that might be medically fixable at some point. Obviously, my enlightenment still had a ways to go.
So when my sister revealed her suspicion, did I rise to the occasion like a champion of tolerance and acceptance? Fuck no. I took on the role of a seasoned defense attorney attacking a hostile witness as I asked her if Kevin had told her he was gay. She said no and I pounced.
“Okay, how do you know he’s gay then?”
“Because I was helping mom flip his mattress today and we found a magazine under it. And it was full of naked guys!”
There is a reason I’m not a lawyer because my sister had just counter-punched me into near silence. My weak follow up was their discovery didn’t prove anything.
“Sean! It was called Inches!”
Arrrrgghhhhhh!!
I banged the heel of my clenched left fist painfully against my eye socket in a vain attempt to poke myself in my mind’s eye and prevent any more unwanted images from popping into my head. A disconcerting whirlpool of emotional instability spun me around. Our humdrum family now had something novel in it, but I didn’t feel ready. I felt a twinge of hypocritical guilt. As far as my views on sexual orientation, I considered myself to be a fairly enlightened and accepting person, but at that moment, my sister’s revelation put my beliefs to the test, and I was failing it. Other people had gay brothers, and that was great. But not me. Kevin couldn’t be gay. Could he?
I briefly wondered if all those times punching him the balls as a kid had had any effect.
When you consider my reaction, you have to keep in mind the era when I grew up. In the 70s and 80s, being gay — or even being suspected of being gay — really sucked if you were under the spotlight. In most areas of the country, being gay brought a lot of unwanted attention along with varying degrees of revulsion and hostility. Some states still criminalized certain aspects of homosexuality. Plenty of people openly cracked jokes about gays or mocked them. Some openly harassed them. Some physically attacked them. Popular culture typically depicted gay men as either a lisping, limp-wristed effeminate or a muscular leather boy in chaps and a vest sporting a handlebar mustache, a guy who’d have his way with you, whether you were into it or not, if you walked into the wrong bar. Basically, in the parlance of the day, you were a twinkle-toed fairy or in the Village People. Gays weren’t real people, they were caricatures, and it seemed to be okay to make fun of them and tell fag jokes — hell, as a teen, I laughed at those jokes and retold them. My only defense lies in my immaturity and the culture at the time. But I didn’t personally know any gay people (well, I did, I just didn’t realize it then) and they were just jokes, though I did feel bad if people directed their sharp barbs against an actual person. Of course, I didn’t saying anything in their defense because then people might start thinking I was gay, and I’d had enough of that as a young teen.
Kevin 1st grade 1978
Sean 6th grade 1978
In junior high, my bashful nature made me a natural candidate for teens looking to hassle someone for being gay. Filled with raging hormones, I obsessed over girls but could not act directly on it due to my crippling shyness, intense sensitivity to embarrassment, and an acute awareness of my gawkiness. (Age 12 to 16 was not kind to me). I perfected what I thought was a stealth approach to girls. By being in their proximity, I and assumed the girls would detect my natural animal magnetism (which of course I assumed I had, hidden beneath my ill-fitting clothes, bad haircut, and prominent Adam’s apple). The Universe quickly disabused me of that notion with a soul-destroying experience where one of my 7th-grade crushes, Alicia, preemptively gave me my first ever ‘We can be friends’ talk in front of other students when I got the courage to sit behind her during free time. She shut that shit down before I even got started. Crushed, from then on, I went to extremes to feign disinterest in girls to avoid further humiliation, which ironically got me targeted for even more humiliation as a potential homo.
[perfectpullquote align=”right” bordertop=”false” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]Have questions or need help? PFLAG is an international support group of LGBTQ, families, friends, and allies committed to advancing equality through support, education, and advocacy.[/perfectpullquote]
Because the major job requirement for being a boy in junior high is being an asshole, some of my classmates enjoyed exposing my shyness and making me uncomfortable with prying questions about my nonexistent romantic life. For added hilarity, in front of our female classmates, they would press me to declare which girl I liked. Dying of embarrassment, I would try to play it off, which invariably led to someone asking me accusingly if I was a faggot. To get them to leave me alone, I felt compelled to tell them how much I hated gay people. It’s not something I’m proud of, but at the time, I would have disowned my own family to get those bastards to leave me alone. And while I didn’t hate gay people as a teen, I did somewhat fear the unknown. I worried about the myth that being around a homosexual could make you gay, as if they had the vampiric power to turn an unwilling person into one of their own kind.
Anyway, by my early twenties, I’d come a long way in my evolution as a human being. Just not quite far enough. Now, my sister’s revelation had me stuck in a groove, as my brain skipped and repeated like a scratched record.
“I don’t know, man,” I muttered to her. “Do you really think he’s gay?”
Bridge let a sliver of doubt into her voice.
“I think so. I don’t know. The only thing I know is I saw naked men with big willies!”
At that, I cringed as an unwanted image of my brother cavorting with naked guys flitted through my head. I quickly hustled everyone offstage.
Okay, I had to admit to myself, maybe he was gay.
“What did Mom say?”
Over the phone, I could practically sense my sister rolling her eyes.
“What do you think? We put the magazine back and flipped the mattress. She didn’t say a word.”
Yep, that was a quintessential Mom response for something out of her comfort zone, that she needed to think about and process. Pretend nothing happened or if it was too serious to overlook, then hand it off to my dad to do the dirty work. A classic example occurred during the summer of my thirteenth year when her snooping uncovered my share of the porn mags that my brother and his friend, James Zeier, had found in an abandoned suitcase while dumpster diving. Being a newspaper boy, I had brashly hidden a few of the magazines in the delivery bags on my bike so I had easy access to reading material, figuring my mother would be none the wiser. I never found out how she uncovered my scheme — probably some slight change in behavior that set off her mom detector — but she never said a word to me. Instead, she quietly summoned dad home from work to ambush me while she retreated across the street to Mrs. Zeier’s, presumably for a cup of tea to soothe her nerves while dad dealt with his degenerate eldest child.
But this new discovery, this was way beyond a simple dirty magazine. This had universe-altering implications; I had no idea how my dad would react when he found out, but I feared not well. So far, the lack of a sonic boom from his head going supernova confirmed that my mom had not yet mentioned anything about it to him. Personally, I doubted she ever would. Not only was my dad retired military with twenty-eight years of service under his belt, but he came from hillbilly country in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia — not exactly a liberal hotbed. And while he was not an inflexible conservative, he was not exactly on the cutting edge of social evolution either. I didn’t know where he stood on the whole gay thing, but I suspected it would not be at the front of a Gay Pride Parade.
Christmas UK 1975
July 1984
When we were growing up, neither of my parents had ever mentioned homosexuality in any context at all. I’d once heard my mom’s friend make an off-handed complaint about “queers” during a holiday dinner, but my mother, unfailingly polite, had neither condoned her friend’s comment nor rebuked her and simply went about as if she hadn’t heard it. The possible fireworks when my dad found out about Kevin — I didn’t even want to think about. And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.
I didn’t find out until years later, but my mom did ask my sister to inquire about the magazine. With the chance to come out of the closet and confide in his closest sibling, Kevin ducked back in and denied ownership of Inches. A senior in high school, he wasn’t ready to deal with his homosexuality. Taking a page out of my playbook, he blamed someone else for the magazine, telling Bridget that our childhood friend Dean Seyfferle had asked him to stash it for him — Kevin claimed to have obliged and then forgotten about it. Now, Dean had stayed over our house a million times since first grade and old man Seyfferle was a church-going Catholic known to apply the belt if his boys didn’t toe the line, so the explanation seemed somewhat plausible, and my sister readily accepted it. The only person not happy with the “Dean is gay” storyline was Dean, who, 30 years later, still occasionally bitches about being framed.
The Layton Kids and Bridget’s friend Susie Rhodes.
Bridget had easily embraced Kevin’s denial, but her friend Tess, always a straight shooter with a 24/7 bullshit detector, kept telling her that Kevin had to be gay. Eventually, my sister pressed him on it and he confessed, though he promised her to silence. And she kept that promise because she sure as hell never bothered following up and letting me in on it. No, I had to confirm it myself.
In hindsight, Kevin’s response to Bridget made total sense. Being Irish Catholics (Dad was a convert, so he didn’t really count), our culture had hardcoded shame into our core, so anything potentially immoral or uncomfortable, we avoided discussing or acknowledging due to the inevitable embarrassment (or fear of being implicated). Our mom, a very loving person, wanted us to be able to confide in her, but unfortunately, we just couldn’t. She would sometimes talk about delicate things like sex in a very general way, such as “Sex between married people is a very beautiful thing.” She couldn’t even tell us about where babies came from but made Bridget and I watch an ABC AfterSchool Special: My Mom’s Having a Baby, while she disappeared over to Mrs. Zeirer’s for a cup of tea. (Actually, by the time my dad passed away, I was 45 and still waiting for my official sex talk). Whenever one of these conversations threatened to break out, I made sure to not to respond in any fashion to deprive it of fuel. Standard protocol involving anything verboten was to keep your head down and your mouth closed and hope it went away quickly. And if someone accused you of anything you denied it — even in the face of overwhelming evidence. In fact, the more evidence the accuser had, the harder you denied it and the more indignant you became as you tried to deflect blame. We would have made excellent politicians when it came to handling scandals.
Anyway, as my phone conversation with Bridget began to wind down, I thoughtlessly blurted out how unfair life was: “You know if God was going to make Kevin gay, why couldn’t he at least swap our looks instead of wasting them on him?”
“Don’t be silly,” said my sister giving me a reality check, “Kevie needs to get dates too.”
Kev looks like he should be in Duran Duran and me Metallica
Huh, well, I had never thought about it that way. Chalk me up for selfish and ignorant. But her comment brought up uncomfortable thoughts about my brother and his possible relationships. That would be weird around the holidays. But I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
After Bridge and I hung up, I kept thinking about it. My brother was gay. My brother was fucking gay! I couldn’t get over it. When I told my coworker and occasional lover (a complicated relationship that I naturally kept hidden from my family), who’d been around a lot of gay men in her former career as a makeup artist, she confessed she hadn’t picked up on Kevin’s sexuality.
Nothing happened right away after our conversation. On my next visit to my parents, I waited till no one was around and cautiously looked under Kevin’s mattress and sure enough, the boner mag was still there.
I spent a fair bit of time trying to figure out how to get Kevin to fess up that he was gay. The thought of just walking up and asking him never occurred to me. Maybe they did that in other families, but not in the Layton household. We weren’t wired that way. As much as I hated myself for it, I always had to subtly crab-walk my way into a delicate conversation. No, instead I would need to set a trap and lure Kevin into it. So, I fell back on a ruse I’d recently used on my friend Gary Eberhard to get him to admit to me that his older brother Larry was gay, something I’d suspected since junior high. Basically, I told Gary about a fake science fiction story I was supposedly writing where the protagonist was a gay teen whose parents forced him against his will to undergo a gene therapy procedure that made him straight. My fake story had worked then, so I figured I’d give it another shot.
That shot took a while in coming. Kevin had graduated high school and never seemed to be around. By then, I’d moved into another townhouse with my co-worker/occasional paramour and finally, my brother decided to stop by to hang out, which was unusual. I figured I’d never have a better chance, so I waited for the perfect moment to tell him about my story, but I ended up having to awkwardly shoehorn it into the conversation. My brother listened and I could tell he was thinking and then the magic happened: He admitted to me he was gay. It was a huge step forward — even though I’d basically had to trick him into it.
His relief that I didn’t attack him or even say anything snarky was almost tangible. I told him it was cool and that I’d support him and he thanked me.
“Okay, but you’re sure you’re gay then?” (I just had to be sure.)
“Well, as sure as wanting to have sex with other guys makes me,” he answered dryly, and I felt my face redden. Touché.
As we talked, I reminded him about the porn stash he’d found as a kid and how the neighborhood boys would gather in the park with Hustlers and Penthouses for an obscene reading session. He’d appeared to be ogling the naked ladies with the rest of us.
“I was looking at Captain Beaver,” he replied, referring to a faux porno superhero in one of the photospreads who’d used his giant, capitalist dong to defeat two female Communist soldiers from North Korean and force them into orgasmic surrender.
The fact that we were having our first, real adult conversation — albeit a kind of a weird one — felt liberating. I felt we’d made a breakthrough in our relationship as brothers and as human beings. With the floodgates now open, I asked him when he knew he was gay or if he’d always known.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I didn’t know I was gay as a kid because I didn’t even know what being gay was, but I knew I was different. I was never interested in girls.”
“And you don’t like sports.”
“Ha, Very funny.”
“But you do like musicals — but I like musicals too.”
“You are such an idiot.”
In high school, he said he’d tried to fake liking girls and gone on a couple of dates, but felt no attraction and never slept with one. He’d felt fraudulent and uncomfortable trying to avoid intimate situations without blowing his cover and making some poor girl miserable.
Then I asked him if it was a choice.
His tone became agitated as bitterness crept into his voice.
“Do you really think I would choose to be gay? Would you? Why would I choose this lifestyle just so people can hate me? I fucking hate being gay,” he said. “I just want to be like everyone else. You know, have a family. But I’m just not attracted to women.”
I mentioned that I’d worked with a gay guy at America West Airlines who told me that being gay was a choice. He claimed he’d consciously decided on homosexuality after he got out of the Navy and had divorced his wife. But the guy was a sociopath and done some evil shit, like wooing a nineteen-year-old who was freshly out of the closet while neglecting to mention he’d just found out he was HIV. So I didn’t trust anything he said.
“That pisses me off,” Kevin said his eyes flashing in annoyance. “He’s not gay; he’s bisexual. He can make a choice. I can’t unless I want to live a lie.”
Kev talked about the torture of keeping his secret, of being afraid to tell others he was gay because of how they might react. How some people ostracized him when they found out.
The amount of self-loathing touched a chord in me and I wished I could make things right for my little brother, so he’d be happy. But there was nothing I could do except tell him he had to learn to be happy with who he was.
Years later he would tell me how lonely and confused he’d been at that time because he had no one to talk to. He didn’t know how to be gay. He had no mentors, no gay friends. Afraid and hating himself, he had started relying on drugs more. His friends, the kids we’d grown up with, drifted away because he’d taken his partying to the next level and began using meth; some simply couldn’t accept his sexuality or didn’t know how to deal with it. His isolation became pronounced. By the time he was old enough, terrified, he got up the courage and went to a gay bar, alone. And that’s really kicked his drinking and meth use into high gear.
“Everyone I met was partying. I thought that’s just what gay culture was about. Having fun and using meth. I didn’t know any gay people who were successful and led regular lives. I fell in with the wrong crowd.”
But that lay in the future. While we chatted in my townhouse, Kevin became wistful about the family he would never have and an imaginary daughter he would have doted over.
“She’d be adorable, and I’d name her Violet,” he sighed.
At the time, the name sounded old-fashioned to me.
“Violet? Lucky for her you won’t be having kids.”
He punched me hard in the shoulder.
“Ooo, why do you make me hate you?”
Actually, what I’d almost said out of reflex before I caught myself was “Violet? That is so gay!” Which might have elevated the punch into a headlock.
Suddenly, it dawned on me I was going to have to start policing my vocabulary. I used the words fag and gay a lot. Not in reference to homosexuals — but just as general insults or in reference to someone being dumb or a douche bag. Now there would be no more utterances of “Quit being gay” or walking into a room and saying “So what are you fags up to?” Obviously, things were going to have to change.
Then it was time to get down to brass tacks.
“What are you going to do — are you going to tell mom and dad?”
Kevin got animated.
“Fuck no! Mom would want me to talk to a priest. And I don’t know what Dad would do. Probably disown me.”
And that was the great unanswered question. What would Dad do?
“I think mom already knows,” I warned him, though obviously, I knew she’d found the magazine. (Bridget would tell me years later that she had already sat down and told Mom, who’d quietly accepted it without really saying much.)
“She probably does. Just promise me you won’t open your big fucking mouth around Dad.”
The implication that I was the weak link mildly offended me, but I had to admit there was a precedence of weasely behavior in my past. So I agreed not to say anything — not that there was any danger of that happening in this particular case. I began telling him what I would do if I were him, which always got under his skin, and he told me to shut up, he’d figure it out.
“I’m not joking. Do NOT say anything to Dad! I’m going to do it when I’m ready.”
Apparently, doing it on his own time meant never because a couple of years later, the fact that Kevin was gay was still the elephant hiding in the closet when it came to my father.
But by that time, the family had bigger things to worry about because Kevin had developed a full-blown drug problem.
Check out these other sample chapters!
Late Night Offerings to Mammon
Car Swimming
Sample Chapter: The Big Reveal Here's another chapter from my book about my brother. I'm not breaking the text up with subheadings like a regular post.
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