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dreadpoetssociety · 4 years ago

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Fevers Don’t Exist

TW: Fever ? (I’m not sure what counts for triggers so pls lmk if I miss anything)

Prompt: hi!! could u do one maybe where like, the reader is an actress on supernatural and she plays like their younger sister on the show or something and she gets sick at a con or something? Thanks !!

NOTE: Hey guys, I’m alive!!!! I know I have a lot of Spencer prompts atm, but it’s really hard to write them when I’m not like, hyper focused on Criminal Minds. I am going to try though! So sorry I’ve left so many of you in the wind, I am a very inconsistent person, my bad. But here’s this! It’s REALLY bad because I’m terrible at being realistic but like idk it’s something.

I really don’t even know what to put for tags on this.

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Ah, September. You knew what came along every September, and looked forward to it for the first eight months of every year. Secaucus, New Jersey. You loved every con you went to, truly. Everyone was so nice, you love staying in hotels, panels are such a great time, the whole thing. It's a great experience outside of the set to get connected with fans. And, they loved you almost as much as you loved them. You were typically closer in age, since you were still just a teenager. You also started out as a fan of the show before somehow snatching a role, so you really were with them at one point. Everything that excites them excited you just as much. And, you loved making friends with them. You weren't allowed to be reckless with your phone number, so you made a snapchat that you shared exclusively with con goers, whom you made swear to secrecy. It was like a club, and you just enjoyed genuinely talking to everyone. But, when you woke up that first morning, you knew it was going to be a long day. Your body ached, and you were still pretty exhausted. You had a fever, but didn't really know if it was a fever because you were still young, and God forbid you ever decided to recognize the signs of you being sick. It was almost like a form of denial, not knowing. You were sweating, but freezing, and your throat felt particularly dry. Your headache rested underneath your eyes for the most part, to which you just blamed on being tired. Your stomach didn't hurt, but you definitely weren't hungry. Even though you hadn't felt exactly 100% the past days before, and you obviously weren't feeling right now, you just deduced that it was all because you were tired, and had a late flight in. As a responsible person does, of course. You didn't even bother taking any medicine for it, because hey, you obviously weren't sick, you'd feel better in a bit, and you didn't have any, so why waste the time, right?

You groggily got dressed and met up with "the boys" (even though they were all older than you) for the free breakfast downstairs, in a separate room, since fans did happen to stay in the same hotel. You grabbed some Cheerios, only to conspicuously throw them away after.

"You good, Y/N?" Jared asked out loud, gaining the attention of Jensen, Misha, and Alex. You could feel their eyes burning through your skin. Or, maybe that was the fever. It had to be their eyes, you convinced yourself, you didn't have a fever. You were fine.

"Yeah, why?" you asked, faking the perk in your voice and confused eyes. Your eyes felt really heavy, you noticed.

"You just... You look exhausted. And pale." he said, "And you threw away that cereal without eating any of it."

You looked down at yourself as an effect for what you were about to say, "Wow, well that's one way to make me self-conscious. I thought I looked kind of poppin'." you laughed slightly, trying to play it off.

"W-wait, no that's- that's not what I meant! You look fine, I just-" he was embarrassed. You and the others chuckled.

"I'm kidding. I'm all good, just went to bed late, y'know?" you smiled. It was hard to try and mask the rasp in your voice, and doing so made you feel the need to cough, so you downed some water until it dialed down a bit. He nodded. In your mind, you blessed your acting skills, thinking you got away with it. What you didn't know was that Misha, Jensen, and Jared, as fathers do, knew every trick in the book, and each noted to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, they'd been acting far longer than you had, and could just tell when one switches into a character. They all figured that if you weren't sick now, you would be in days to come, and exchanged glances with each other, while Alex innocently continued to chew on his toast.

"Well, if you're tired, I don't think you have a panel or anything for another hour or something, maybe you could catch up on some sleep then." Jared suggested. You shrugged.

"Nah," you said, "I've got photo-ops in like, twenty minutes. I should actually probably get going. I'll catch up later!"

You left with a wave, and disappeared into the hotel somewhere. You stopped in your room, allowing yourself finally to set free the coughs living in the back of your throat. You blamed it on your throat being dry since you didn't drink enough water. Not on germs. So, you grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge in your room, and left, making your way towards the convention center.

You felt slightly better during photo-ops, which just confirmed in your mind that it was impossible that you were sick right now. You smiled and talked to everyone. There was one girl, who introduced herself as Meredith, who stuck out in your mind. She gave you this super cool hand painted keychain, which you very excitedly put on your keys instantly.

"Dude, I've been looking for a cool keychain. Not just one of those janky ones you find at like 7-11, like a cool one. This is so exciting." you smiled genuinely. You had just recently bought yourself a car, and thought that your keys looked a little lonely, and searched for hours on Etsy for something to spice it up a bit. A weird obsession, thinking about it now.

She laughed, "I'm glad you like it!"

"Hell, yeah! Now, are there any poses you wanna do? Or do you just want to hit that casual look? I could make it look like I'm meeting you." you stupidly rambled. One of your traits that was so widely known was how funny and awkward (in a good way) that you were. It took you a long time to get to that point, though, because you were always anxious about meeting others. You still are every now and then, but it's different here.

"I was just hoping to get a hug." she said, "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that's cool!" you wrapped your arms around each other and shot the camera a grin. The girl looked a bit confused.

"Hey," she said, quietly, "are you like, okay? You feel really hot."

Nervously, you replied, "Oh, no, yeah totally fine. I'm just wearing two layers, and it's getting spicy in here."

"Yeah," she answered, "don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you. It was really nice meeting you!"

"You, too! Thanks!" she waved goodbye and you moved on to the last few people in line. She was right, though. You realized that you felt worse than you did when you walked in. You thought it had gone away for a while, but now it was just amplified. You noticed you were cold again, but that you were sweating as well. It must've just been the temperature in the room. These conventions aren't always able to keep a steady temp in the entire building, right?

This day, you didn't have much to do. Most of your events were on the other days to come. You had one panel in a few hours, and then a panel with Jared, Jensen, and Misha a few hours after that, and then bam, the day was over. You just had to get through those two events. Just two.

Two, events. And both were an hour. So, two hours out of the day. Rookie work. Yet, as your panel approached, the headache had expanded from under your eyes to anywhere that there was space to hurt, your throat ached and so did your lungs from how much you were going off somewhere to cough in privacy, your body felt heavy, you couldn't tell if you were hot or cold at this point it was some weird combination of both, your stomach hurt just slightly, the world was moving around you a bit more than it usually would, and the fever you "didn't" have had climbed a degree, probably two. And, at some point during the day, you got pretty congested. You felt like you could just fall asleep at any moment. Jared and Jensen happened to be walking by where you had been waiting by yourself, away from any congoers or employees, and noticed that even though you were leaning against a wall, you somehow were still swaying.

"Y/N?" Jensen called out, worried. You heard him, you knew you were supposed to respond, but didn't know how. Maybe you did have a fever, and maybe you sort of let it out of control. It was like you were comprehending them, but not at the same time. You heard everything, but it just swept right through your feverish mind. The walked in front of you and examined you within seconds. You felt Jared's cold, really abnormally large man hand sweep your hair back and land on your forehead.

"J, she's burning up." you felt another hand on your face. You, quite exhaustedly, swatted it away. They couldn't figure out how it'd gotten so bad so quickly. You were sick this morning, but not to this degree. They knew then that you had just shrugged it off all day, and your teenage fever brain probably didn't even think to take any kind of medicine or anything for it, even if you were trying to hide it.

"I'm good. Just tired. Fevers don’t exist." you finally mumbled, taking a few deep breathes, which you hadn't really been able to do in a bit without being rudely interrupted by a bone-shaking cough. It felt nice, almost. The boys sighed at you and shook their heads.

"Y/N, you should go back to your room and get some rest. We can bring you some stuff that'll help." Jared suggested. You shook your head and opened your eyes, which somehow felt even heavier.

"Nah," you said to them, "I've got a panel, I think, in like, I ‘dunno, some minutes or something. Something I-" you pushed yourself off the wall to try and make your way somewhere, but stumbled a step or two, which result in Jensen and Jared instinctively to grab you in order to keep you steady.

"Like hell we're letting you go to that, Y/N, you can't even form a sentence, or stand for that matter. You're out of your mind. We're going to bring you back now, we'll take care of your panel thing." Jensen stated pretty sternly. You were about to fight back, and they could see it, but you coughed a few times, and they could almost feel it in their own chests. You just nodded in defeat.

"Yeah, maybe I could just like, sleep, for an hour or two." you whispered, tiredly. The two were still holding you steady, and could see you already falling asleep before even going anywhere.

"Or six, by the looks of it." Jared joked lightly.

"Poor kid." Jensen said to Jared as the were walking out of your room. They helped you get there, and you were gone before you even saw the bed, "Why do they always have to pretend like they aren't sick? Look where it gets them."

"Don't know, man. You can't talk, though. You literally tell people you are immune to illness." Jared laughed quietly, shutting you door.

"Well I am. I am the perfect example of health. I don't get sick."

"Yeah," Jared rolled his eyes, "Right. Watch you catch what Y/N has. You practically carried her all the way here. There's no way you're escaping it." Walking towards the center, the back way of course, Jensen scoffed, "Please, germs take one look at me and know not to mess this up. And, by the logic, that means you're already infected, too. So, tell me, princess, what sort of soup do you want spoon-fed?"

Again, Jared rolled his eyes, and the two laughed. They weren't making fun of you, they were making fun of each other, and knew that you would've wanted in on that action.

"Y/N probably would've destroyed us if she heard that. Something along the longs of 'You want me to tuck you in? Carry you bridal style?'" Jared pitched his voice a tone higher for it. Again, the two men laughed.

They made their way backstage of what's supposed yo be your panel, and informed the crew about what was going on. They were just going to fill in for you, probably tell a few embarrassing stories.

When they made their way through the curtain, the crowd shouted. They were obviously excited to see the two leads, but also were obviously confused. "Alright, you're probably confused." Jensen stated the obvious, "Because obviously, we look nothing like Y/N, and thank God she does not look like us." The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, Y/N can't make it today. She's really sick-" the crowd cut Jared off with a unison "awe." People yelled out that they hoped she felt better, tell her to take care of herself, and so on.

"Yeah, poor kid looked like she was just going to fall asleep right where she was standing. She literally tried to come anyway, like, kid, you're making no sense. Y/N couldn't really fight against us, though, so she's sleeping now." Jensen explained, "So we came here to chat in her stead, but just know she really was planning on coming. That kid loves you guys." and again, the "awe" rolled through the crowd.

"If she wasn't sick, she could totally kick both your-" the last word was cut off, but was implied anyway, someone screamed from the crowd, which resulted in laughter.

"Yeah, probably. Even if we were stronger than her," sarcastically, of course, "she'd still beat us. Kid's too fast, and I'm too old." Jared laughed.

In the last ten minutes of the panel, Jared decided to give you call. Not only to check in on you, but so you could at least say hi to your crowd. When you heard the phone ring, you groggily opened your eyes and aimlessly reached for it.

"Hello?" you answered. Jared almost frowned at how sick you sounded, even with just one word.

"Y/N?" Jensen stepped in, "It's Jensen."

"Unfortunate." you sighed exhaustedly. It was joke, a really tired one, but still enough to make the crowd laugh.

"We're here at your panel, we thought you might want to say hi." Jared said loudly, holding the speaker of his phone to the microphone.

"Panel?" you asked. Panel? What panel? Your delirious mind was clearly confused, "Who's that?"

"Y/N, the con. The convention panel?" Jensen actually sounded worried. They probably should've thought to give you some sort of medicine to do something about the fever you had before they'd left.

"Oh," you closed your eyes again, almost falling asleep, before remembering finally what it was they meant, and after a moment, "Oh! Crap, the panel thing, I'm late."

"No, Y/N, stay there, we've got it covered remember? You can't come. You can say hi to them, though." Jensen interjected quickly.

"Okay, hi guys." you just followed as told.

The crowd responded with a series of hello's.

"'M really sorry. I hope they aren't boring you." the two men could practically hear you closing your eyes. The crowd responded in inaudible chatter. Jensen and Jared walked from the mic for a second.

"Sorry if we woke you, kid." Jared apologized, having just realized they probably could've left you alone, "W also just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked, but got a mumbled word in response, "Alright, well, just go back to sleep, we'll be up there soon."

Jared hung up the phone, and the two began to answer the last few questions and close up. They waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and started heading back your way.

"Jensen, you got any over the counters with you? Thermometers or anything? All I've got is Advil, and I don't even know what's really bothering her yet other than that cough and being tired."

"Yup. Danneel always makes me carry literally an entire medicine cabinet, just for these moments. I'll go get 'em and meet you there. It'd probably do her some good to eat something, too. I don't know if she's got like, a stomach virus thing going on, though." Jensen answered.

"I'll see what she'll say and let you know."

The two parted ways, and Jared made his way to you. Even though he'd only talked to you just a few minutes before, you were dead to the world by the time he opened the door. The room was boiling, and Jared looked over to the thermostat to see that you'd at some point put it on to 90 degrees.

"Jesus, Y/N, I know you've got a fever, but damn." he said, more so to himself than to you. He looked over at you after turning it down to see you curled beneath what looked like any blanket you could find. He came over and started removing the blankets slowly, and shook you gently to wake you up.

"Y/N, wake up for a minute, it's Jared."

"'Mm." was all you said, until you realized your layers of warmth had been moved, "What're doing? It's cold."

"Y/N, you're dripping in sweat. It's the fever making you cold."

"I don't have a fever." you retorted, "I'm good. Just tired."

"Kid, you've been tired the whole day. You've been sleeping this whole time." he tried rationalizing.

"I have?" you questioned, closing you eyes again. Jared put his hand to your forehead again. Somehow, it was warmer than the first time he'd done it before the panel. It was then that Jensen finally appeared, a whole bag of things in hand, "Could you bring the thermometer over?"

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked over and rummaged through the bag at the same time, pulling out a thermometer.

"Y/N, we need to take your temperature." Jensen said.

"No need." you said, "'M not sick."

"You are so obviously sick, I'm not asking." again with that stern voice. Jared gave him a "Hey, she's sick, back off a little" sort of look, but it had worked, and you let them take your temp. They were almost shocked when the thing beeped at 103.

"Should we take her to a hospital? That's way too high." Jared asked.

"If it gets any higher, yes, but let's see if we can bring it down first." Jensen replied.

"No hospitals." you demanded, opening your eyes and glaring at them.

"We aren't bringing you yet, Y/N, but I need you to eat this so you can take some meds." he held out two pieces of toast that he must've brought from his room. You hated toast even when you weren't sick.

"I'm not really hungry."

"I know, but it'll help. You haven't told us what's bothering you yet, either." Jared responded.

"Nothing's-" you coughed a few times, a bit violently, "bothering me." "We can see that." Jensen said sarcastically.

"Everything's bothering me." you whispered, giving up.

"Your stomach hurt?" Jensen asked. You waved your hand from side to side to signal a so-so, "Think you'll get sick at all?"

"No, it's not like that, I don't think." you breathed out, another cough escaping you. You took a few bites out of the toast. It made you uncomfortable, but it was then that you realized you probably felt that way since you really hadn't eaten much that day or the one before, which probably contributed to the splitting headache. It didn't go away after, either though. You pushed yourself up. You almost fell over, but Jared put a hand out for you.

"Alright, good. Take this. I'm going to be frank, it tastes disgusting." Jensen handed over a small cup of liquid, "Sometimes, if you take it like a shot, it helps. But you shouldn't know how to take shots, but if you do it, I won't judge." And so you did, causing the two to chuckle slightly at you.

"You were right, about the sleep thing." you slumped back onto the bed heavily, like a brick.

"When am I ever wrong?" Jensen asked, "Don't answer that, actually."

But you were already sleeping again, and the boys decided to stay nearby for now. The next panel wasn't for another few hours anyway, and they just didn't want you to be alone. Also, incase you were wrong about the toast, and it decided to make its return. Jared's phone began to ring loudly, to which he very quickly tried to answer so his obnoxious ringtone wouldn't wake you up again, not that you wouldn't have just fallen back asleep anyway.

"Misha? Hey, what's up?" Jared answered. Jensen walked over to hear what was going on on the other side of the line, but Jared just decided to put it on speaker.

"Where are you guys? I haven't seen you all day. Felicia, Alex, and I are going out for lunch, we were wondering if you guys want to come. I tried calling Y/N, but she didn't answer, so." he rambled.

"That's because Y/N's not feeling well." Jensen said, giving him a solution to his predicament of not being answered, "We're with her right now, so we'll have to pass."

"She's sick? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's just got this crazy fever we've been trying to bring down. Thinking about it now, Jensen, we should probably check it again."

"A fever?"

"It's been at 103 degrees for like, two hours. At least for what we know of. She's probably had one all day, but as a dumb teenager does, she just tried to ignore it."

"If it goes up you should-"

"Yeah, we know," Jared said, "we're trying really hard to avoid that, though. Also, she'll definitely fight against it, I don't know."

Jensen, from the other side of the room at the sound of a beeping thermometer, could be heard on Misha's end, "It went down, finally. 102.2."

"Thank God, I was getting worried."

"Should I come there? Do you guys need any help?" Misha asked.

"I mean you can, but I think we're good. She's just been trying to sleep it off the whole time, so not much is really going on." Jensen was closer to the phone now, "Like, she's got this cough, a headache, and you can hear how congested she sounds, but mostly I think she's just exhausted. I honestly don't know how because she's just been sleeping for hours."

"Fatigue."

"Yeah, poor kid. I don't think I've ever seen her so tired, it almost makes me tired to be honest." Jensen joked.

"Maybe you're just getting sick." Jared slipped in.

"Not possible. I am immune."

"Nobody is immune, Jensen." Misha sighed.

"I'm not nobody." he shrugged.

"Alright, well, we're going to get lunch then. If you need anything let me know, and tell her I hope she feels better." Misha concludes.

"We will, thanks Misha." and with that, Jared hung up. For a few more hours, the two hung around. They were there when you woke from some fever dreams, and when you needed a cough drop, or twelve, and wake you up every now and then to check your temperature, which raised and dropped and raised and dropped, but currently was at a very steady 102.4. But, soon enough, it was time for them to leave for the last panel of the day, and unsurprisingly, you tried to follow suit.

"Y/N, we gotta go, but we'll be back in about an hour from the panel." Jared said. You took a deep breath and sluggishly pushed yourself to the side of the bed. Having been sick, and not having sat up in a few hours, the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy.

"What're you doing?" Jensen asked.

"The panel. I missed the last one I should go to this one. I feel okay." you yawned, then coughed slightly.

"Y/N, really, you shouldn't even think about pushing it like that." Jared said. Jensen walked over to you, half on the bed, clearly trying to steady yourself just from the movement of sitting up. The spinning room honestly almost made the toast make a reprise, and you hiccupped, and held your breath.

"Hey," Jensen grabbed a can quickly, noticing, "are you going to be sick?"

Giving it a minute, it went away, and you shook you head no, causing a huge tension to leave the room.

"Alright, well, remember how you said I was right all the time earlier?" Jensen pun the can down.

"No, must've been the fever." you half joked, causing Jared to laugh.

"Alright- well- okay, shut up. We agreed I'm always right, and that I was right about needing sleep, so I say you need some more." Jensen demanded rather than suggested.

"Yeah, or at least lay around and do nothing. I can't imagine ever sleeping as much as you just did." Jared joked, pushing you very gently back down, with his hand on your back, knowing you would just hit the bed without it. Your eyes were heavy again, and your throat was painfully dry, and you coughed. Your aching head also agreed with the two of them to your dismay.

"Maybe just a bit more." you mumbled, "A few minutes."

"Yeah a few minutes, sure." Jared smiled, knowing you were probably going to knock out for a few hours once again. You opened your eyes again.

"You think," you coughed, "that they'll be mad?

"Who?" Jensen asked.

Feeling pretty sick, you said, "That I don't go? I don’t feel really good."

Ah, the fever comes to play once again, it seems, but the two felt some sort of triumph now that you've at least admitted to being sick, even if it's been hours. It concerned them, though, if you felt bad enough to admit it.

"No, they'll be fine about it. We'll be back soon. Misha or Alex might come in to check on you, alright?" Jared answered, to which you nodded.

They weren't gone long. You spent half the next day sleeping, too, until you could stand without swaying. You did sneak back to the con, against Jensen and Jared's orders, since you really didn't break that fever and cough for a few more days, only to be caught after a tweet of you at the con was trending and the cast caught wind of it. But, eventually, you were better, and got the chance to help Jared take care of an "always immune" Jensen. And he was more stubborn than you were.

#jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #jared padalecki x you #jared padalecki x reader #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #sickfic #spn #spn cast

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cyborgqueenkelly · 3 years ago

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A tiny bit of hope...

I've had a BAD year, healthwise. I live with a condition called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD) - also known as Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). I prefer the RSD label, as anytime you have something labeled as a "syndrome", people can be really insensitive about it. Yes, it's really there and it's not "all in my head". My nerves and my brain just don't know how to communicate with each other. I went through extensive and invasive testing and can actually pinpoint the cause to a particular incident.

If you've never heard of this condition, I'll try to sum it up as succinctly as possible. You've probably heard of the rare condition where someone can't feel pain, right? This is kinda the opposite of that. For a long time, I couldn't wear socks, could only wear backless shoes, and often couldn't even have a sheet on my leg. Often when I'd shower, the water would feel like razor blades when it hit my right leg. My case is actually incredibly mild compared to many others. I've spoken with a surprising number of people who regularly pass out from shock due to the amount of pain they experience. Fortunately I have a DRG stimulator (I'm a real life cyborg!) that has worked wonders for me and has kept things from getting too out of control since I had it implanted.

Over the past year or two I've had some really concerning symptoms not related to my leg. Nonstop coughing fits to the point that I was convinced I had broken my ribs because I hurt myself so bad from coughing. Constantly choking and struggling to breathe. I underwent testing and after ruling out most other conditions, I was told that it seemed that my RSD had spread to my esophagus. This was terrible news for me, as there's not much I can do about that, and I had already started making an exit plan due to the fact that I absolutely cannot live with this. I'm not weak. This is just one of many serious health struggles I've been dealing with. It is also the most unbearable, and it's made my quality of life terrible. I've held on as long as I have because I'm unfortunately a die hard optimist.

This week I received a tiny bit of hope.

A few days ago things got really bad and I ended up in the hospital. They did some in depth testing and it turns out I have asthma! I have to go back to my doctor bc he's the only one who can interpret the results enough to say how severe it is, but if it's bad enough, it might be the culprit for most of my issues! that's huge because its treatable! My rsd isn't as treatable. I still have it and it's still in my esophagus, but it's also highly reactive to other issues. so if my asthma is controlled, my rsd symptoms might be too!

This news isn't as hopeful as it should be, however, because I live in a country where you're only allowed treatment if you can afford it. And I can't. I live on disability ($350 a week BEFORE taxes), my insurance is crap, and I can't even afford my other living expenses. My meds and doctors appointments are now covered til at least the end of October, possibly the end of December. But after that, I'm out of luck. I have no way of paying for treatment starting in January of 2022. I have been trying so hard to get my Etsy store to be profitable so I can pay for treatment, but it's seems damn near impossible, especially when I don't have money for ads, etc.

If you have the means and would like to support my shop, I would be forever grateful. I am happy to do custom design requests if you don't see what you're looking for. (TWDFamily / Caryl/ Carol fans - I already have SEVERAL premade designs not listed in my shop. Feel free to inquire!) Additionally, you can also purchase gift credit for my shop. Of course I'm always grateful for CashApp donations ($kellyguist), but even typing that makes me feel uncomfortable, so I'll probably try to talk you into letting me do you a favor in return somehow.

If you don't have the means to support my shop financially, there are still REALLY effective ways you can help:

- Share my shop link (etsy.com/shop/spanglecustomapparel)

- Favorite some of my items. This actually helps my listings rank better.

- Leave a review if you've already made a purchase but haven't done so.

Thanks to everyone who has supported me so far, and thanks to those of you who've made it to the end of this. You're the best.

#disabledcreator #disabilityownedbusiness #womenentrepreneurs #disabilityowned #crpsawareness #crps/rsd #healthcare is a human right #fundraiser #signal boost #medical fundraiser #please reblog #twdfamily

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bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

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7. Home for the Holidays

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 10.1k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK TO JOIN THE TAGLIST

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: thank you for all the love lately!!! <3 u guys

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Harry and Y/N had discussed the idea of having some elaborate reveal that they were having a baby, but they decided to just do it in the fashion of buying onesies for their parents for Christmas gifts and letting their parents open them and discover the truth. Harry and Y/N spent hours one evening picking out onesies on Etsy that said things like “I love Grandpa!” and giggling over the prospect of telling their parents, excitement seeping out of them.

But first, Y/N knew she had to tell Hanna and Jamie. She suspected that they already thought something was wrong, after she had cancelled on all of their recent requests to go out for drinks. So when she asked them over to her apartment for dinner, she didn’t know what the mood would be. They arrived in normal fashion, though, Jamie bringing ice cream for dessert and Hanna bringing a bottle of wine for them to share.

When she plucked glasses from the cabinet—three, one for each of them—that’s when Y/N knew her time had come. “Not one for me,” she said calmly, turning away from the salad she was making.

Hanna looked at her, confusion across her face, and then at the wine. “But…it’s wine.”

Y/N nodded. “I can’t have any.”

Hanna gasped, the glasses dropping to the counter and barely avoiding cracking, and rushed to her friend. Jamie stood there, shocked, eyes flickering between Y/N’s stomach and her face. “You’re pregnant?” He asked finally, eyes wide.

She nodded, and Hanna dropped to her knees. “Can I touch?” Hanna asked softly, eyes on Y/N’s belly. She was the first person to ask, the first person who would feel the place where Y/N’s child was growing, but she didn’t mind. It was her best friend, after all. So she nodded.

“What’s it like?” Jamie asked, coming over to stand next to her, head cocked to the side.

“What, pregnancy?” He nodded. “Well, so far, it just means I can’t have wine and I vomit a lot. I’m also so fucking tired all the time.”

“When you were sick,” Jamie said, putting the pieces together in his head. “Shit.”

Hanna slapped him. “Stop it, you.”

“No, what is it?” Y/N asked, pushing Hanna away from her so she could turn to Jamie.

“I just…” Jamie ran his hand over his face, eyes flickering to her. “Harry knows?” She nodded. “And?”

“He’s over the moon,” she informed him, voice stern. She got it. He didn’t think Harry would want the kid, that she was going to be raising it alone. And maybe, if Harry wasn’t so goddamn stubborn, she would be. “I tried to tell him he didn’t need to be around, but he literally started crying at the prospect. He’s the one who convinced me to let him stay, to do it together.”

“Wow,” Hanna said, leaning against the counter. “I always knew he was wonderful, but that—that’s something else.”

Jamie reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “I’m sorry—I was worried about you. I’m happy for you, and Harry, as long as you are.”

She took his hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of it, something they always did to make up. “Honestly, I am. It’s not what I was expecting, but doing it with Harry, it’s not as bad as I was expecting. It’s actually kind of incredible.”

“Is the sex, like, insane?”

Her head swiveled to Hanna and Jamie gasped, swatting at Hanna’s shoulder. “Han!”

“What? Your hormones are like raging right? It’s got to be incredible.”

Y/N coyly smiled and this time both Hanna and Jamie gasped, their questions toppling over one another. She had never shared too much of her and Harry’s sex life with her friends, valuing his privacy, and that wasn’t going to change. But she did tell them, “It’s on a whole other level,” which earned clapped hands and shrieks. And she wasn’t lying. The added hormones raging through her bloodstream had her wanting him at every time of day, and Harry seemed even more infatuated with her than normal, touching and kissing her every chance he had. She couldn’t even count the times they had had sex in his kitchen, not being able to wait until they went upstairs, or the times he had dropped to his knees in the shower, desperate to taste her. Sex with Harry was always mind-blowing, good in a way she had never experienced before, but sex with Harry while pregnant neared an out of body experience sometimes. He could oscillate so well between kind, soft, cuddly, and this man who was simply dying to be inside of her, murmuring words in her ears that had her blood rushing straight down.

When her friends left, she called Harry and told him exactly what she had been thinking about, and he promptly drove to her apartment, not wanting to leave her desiring him and unable to quench her thirst. He took her on her bed, their teeth gnashing and hands scrambling over skin, Harry sucking harshly on her neck until she reminded him they were seeing her dad tomorrow, at which point he opted for a spot on her breast. Their increased size and sensitivity was driving Harry—and Y/N—mad, so he had his lips on them whenever he had the chance.

“How,” he exhaled as he drove deeply into her, the only sound audible in her room the sound of their panting and skin slapping, “do you feel better every time I’m inside of you?”

She knew what he meant. She could never tire of him, the way he fit inside of her, the way he touched her body, the way he made her feel. Fingers threaded in his hair and she yanked him down to her, begging for his lips to reach hers again. And when they did, she murmured, “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” against them. Harry groaned, deep and throaty, and pressed a deep spot that had her seeing stars.

Afterwards, Harry asked her to lay down and he slipped down her body, pressing his lips to the spot right below her belly button where their child rested. “Hi Peanut,” he whispered against her skin, Y/N smiling down at the sight of him talking to their child. “It’s Papa. Sorry if that disturbed you, just needed to show Mama how much I love her. I hope you can understand and forgive me.”

“Shut up,” she told him. “That’s much too crass for them still!”

“Shh,” he told her, finger to his lips. “I’m not done.” He bent back down and rested his hands on her hips. “Can’t wait to meet you. I’ve been dreaming about you, you know.” Y/N didn’t know that and she looked down at Harry in wonder, curious how she had gotten so lucky. “Dreamed you were a girl. Not that that means anything—you are whoever you want to be, Peanut. I’ll love you no matter who you are, always, unwaveringly.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” she whispered, hand curving over his jaw and tugging his head up so their eyes met.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her belly before crawling up to her face, fingers brushing across her flushed cheeks. “I wanted to tell Peanut first.”

“A girl, huh?” He nodded, and she smiled. “I’d like that, I think.”

“I think you’ll like whoever they are,” he told her. “Because they’ll be utterly perfect, just like you.”

She smiled into the kiss she gave him, hoping he knew that it wasn’t her they’d resemble in perfection, it would be him.

Harry was bouncing on his toes in both excitement and fear at the prospect of telling her father. He genuinely liked Peter, looked up to him even. Even as he grew older, he had managed to maintain his career, finding new and creative ways to make a living, which was not easy. Despite his success, he was still incredibly down to Earth and didn’t make you feel judged when you wrote with him—which was something Harry, as a relatively new songwriter, deeply appreciated. His imposter syndrome in the songwriting room was something he constantly battled, especially when he wrote with new people. But Peter put Harry at ease immediately, making suggestions in a way so Harry didn’t feel like an idiot, and praising him when he had genuinely good ideas.

So that was all to say, the last thing he wanted was for Peter to hate him for getting his daughter pregnant at 23.

Peter opened the door to his house beaming, the Motown Christmas Album playing in the background as Y/N and Harry stepped in, a flutter of hellos and hugs. “It’s been too long!” Peter said, giving Harry a clap on the back. “How was tour?”

“Good,” Harry said as Peter shut the front door. “Long.”

“Heard from Jeff you’re doing March to July this year,” Peter said, leading them into the living room where the tree was set up, the jolly holiday spirit wrapping around Harry like a hug. He and Y/N had decorate his place a bit, putting up a tree she went and got from the store and decorating it with ornaments, but he never went all out with decorating. Decorating any house that wasn’t his mom’s just felt wrong somehow.

Harry nodded, taking a seat next to Y/N on the couch, loving the way she leaned subconsciously into him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, should be a long one.”

“Didn’t know you and Jeff were friends,” Y/N asked her father, taking a sip from the hot coco her father had placed in front of them.

“Decided I should get to know him a bit better ever since you and this one started spending all your time together,” Peter said with a chuckle. “Especially since you don’t call enough and give me the information yourself.”

“That’s a lie,” Y/N said, glancing up at Harry as if to reassure him that she was, in fact, a good daughter. “I call him all the time.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair. He was an affectionate person, and he had always appreciated the fact that Y/N never pushed him away, always seemed to lean in for more. Made him feel even more loved by her.

Peter set down his own cup of hot chocolate and made his way over to the tree. “Now, I know you have to head up to your mom’s, so should we get started on the presents?”

Harry and Y/N had decided to go to her dad’s on the way up to her mom’s house, driving up a rental car and fly out of San Francisco to London to cut down on the amount of time they had to drive. It was busy on the highways and honestly, Harry hated driving for long distances in the states, but for Y/N he’d do it. Driving on the wrong side of the road was something he never could fully adjust to and doing it for hours at a time took the utmost concentration.

“Yes!” Y/N replied, grabbing their gift for him from her purse and setting it under the tree. “But I want mine first.”

Peter chuckled and dug around for Y/N’s, the red and green wrapping paper making Harry smile. He liked that Peter wasn’t perfect at wrapping but he still made an effort, the crinkles in the paper and jagged edge of the paper authentic and loving. “Hope you like it, doll.”

Y/N ripped open the paper, a green slim box revealing itself in the paper. She shook it like a little girl, which made Harry laugh softly next to her, before opening up the box. Inside lay three concert tickets to the upcoming Taylor Swift tour, which had Y/N squealing, launching herself into her father’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She said, giving her dad a tight hug, Peter’s full body laugh filling the room.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You never took me up on last year’s gift, so I decided to just make an executive decision. Harry, I know you’ll be gone, but I thought you could take Hanna and Jamie with you.”

Y/N nodded, a quick look to Harry that made his heart clench. “Yes, of course. They’ll scream when I tell them how good the seats are.”

Her dad chuckled. “I have no doubt.” Y/N gave her dad one last squeeze before settling back into her spot next to Harry, the way she interlaced her fingers with him sending him the message that She wished it could be him going with her, but she wasn’t mad. “Now, Harry.” Peter reached around the tree and grabbed a gift for Harry, wrapped up and looking like a book of some kind.

“Oh,” Harry said, reaching up to grab it, “thank you so much. You didn’t have to get me anything, though.”

“Nonsense,” Peter replied, waving the idea away. “You’re with Y/N, so you’re part of the family.”

Y/N shot him a knowing smile, the thought passing through both their heads at how right her dad actually was. Harry ripped at the paper, his fingers curving around a leather journal that quite resembled the one he lugged around with him everywhere he went. “Oh,” he said, looking up at Peter. “Wow. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Peter replied. “When we were writing I noticed you were about halfway through your old one, so I thought you were probably due to have a new one.”

He was right, in fact. Harry had planned to buy one back in London at his favorite shop, but it seemed that Peter had beat him to it, the mark on the back from the same place as his current notebook. “This is incredible,” he said, wiping at the tears threatening to spill from his eyes at the thoughtfulness. “So thoughtful. Thank you.”

Y/N threaded her hand through his, giving it a squeeze to remind him she was there and he glanced down at her face to help stitch his emotions back into place. “Now, Dad, we’ve got ours for you.” She scrambled up, grabbing the bag from under the tree that held their carefully selected onesie for him.

Peter ripped out the tissue paper, digging his hand in and reaching around for the gift. Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Harry who gave her a reassuring smile, reminding her with his eyes that Peter was going to be happy for them, just as they had discussed. “Oh!” Peter said when he pulled out the onesie that said “#1 Grandkid” on it and an ultrasound photo they had had printed for him. Tears welled in his eyes, looking up at Y/N and Harry in disbelief. “Really?” He asked, words breathless.

Y/N nodded and Peter yelped in excitement, rushing to grab them both into hugs, a flurry of love and warmth they desperately needed. “Due in June,” Y/N told him.

“Summer baby,” he said, to himself looking back down at the ultrasound photo in his hand. “Good. Could use one of those in this family.”

Harry laughed and Peter reached out, a soft hand on Harry’s cheek. “Welcome to the family, son.”

The word made Harry’s heart clench, the thought of being a permanent part of Y/N’s family a prospect too good to be true. “Thank you,” he replied.

Peter proceeded to pepper them with questions, cracking a joke about how he almost got Y/N a crate of wine as a joke from last Christmas but was glad he didn’t, and they chatted about what he was going to be called. They decided on “Pop”, something short and sweet, and a shortened of what Y/N had called her grandfather before he passed. Over brunch they talked about their upcoming trip to England and their plan to tell Y/N’s mother that evening. Peter nodded at the sound of his ex-wife’s name, and Harry thought for not the first time about the fact that both he and Y/N had parents who were divorced. He hoped it wasn’t a sign for him at Y/N—he wanted to stay with her forever. They hadn’t talked about the idea of marriage, but it was something playing at the back of his mind ever since they’d learned they were going to have a baby.

He didn’t want to get married just because of their child, but at the same time, he loved Y/N and couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else. She challenged him, loved him, made him a better person. Made him laugh like crazy, bought him all the weird foods he liked, gave the best massages. Reminded him that he had a life outside of work—a life he loved. The prospect of marrying her wasn’t scary to him. In fact, it sounded like heaven.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch Harry as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, one on her knee. At first, he did it because she was bouncing her knee up and down, but then kept it there, and Y/N suspected it was because of the same reason that her fingers crawled up his forearm: to feel his skin under her fingers. The drive was long, probably eight or nine hours, but she didn’t mind it—nine hours to spend with Harry’s undivided attention, the coast whipping by them.

They got on the road by noon, hugs and teary eyes as they said goodbye, and she texted her mom they’d be there at nine and would grab dinner on the way, so no need to wait up for them for dinner. Harry told her to DJ and she put on their playlist first, belting out lyrics to all of their favorite songs, Harry even using her water bottle that sat in the center console as a microphone. His seat dancing had her laughing hysterically and his smile never seemed to fade from his face as they drove. After the playlist ended, she put on the NPR podcast she had been listening to lately, and Harry asked her political questions, still trying to wrap his head around American politics.

They stopped for dinner at In-n-Out and Y/N took the wheel for the remaining two hours of the drive, since she knew it by heart and Harry was getting a bit stressed. They switched shakes back and forth as she drove, chattering about their favorite holiday memories as kids and laughing at their embarrassing moments. She loved glancing over and seeing Harry’s eyes already on her, a twinkle in his eye she knew well—it was the one where he was overwhelmed by his feelings for her. He had told her one time when they were wrapped up on his couch and she asked him why he was staring at her like that, and it had made her pull him into a deep kiss, much like the one she wanted now. But she was driving, so she settled with kissing the back of Harry’s hand, the smile he gave her settling deep in her heart.

The porch light was on at her mom’s house, the simply blue post-war bungalow the perfect place for her mom to have moved into. It was the right size for a single woman and her dog, June, who they’d gotten shortly after her and Y/N’s day got divorced. Y/N usually stayed in the guest room, which she didn’t mind too much—she was proud of her mom for making a new life for herself in San Francisco. It just meant her bedroom at her dad’s house was even more special to her, the one remaining shred of her childhood.

“Nervous?” She asked Harry. He’d met her mom once, back in the summer before he left for Dunkirk press. They’d gotten on famously, but they definitely weren’t as close as Harry and her dad. One time she’d walked into his house to find him on the phone with her dad, jabbering about songwriting and the brilliance of Stevie Nicks.

He shut the car door behind him and walked to the trunk, popping it open. “A bit, yeah.” He pulled out their suitcases and shut the door, looking up to where she leaned against the car. “I just don’t want her to think I’m horrible for getting her daughter pregnant, ya know?”

Y/N scoffed, and walked over to him, hands on his cheeks. “H, it’s not like you were the only one having sex. It’s a two-way street—I’ve got just as much responsibility in this as you.”

He nodded, leaning into the press of her fingers on his skin. Together they walked up to the front door, Y/N knocking softly. The door swung open not even a minute later, her mom standing there beaming at them. “Mama!” Y/N wrapped her mom up in a hug, her mom’s blunt bob swinging as they rocked back and forth. Her mom was a hugger, always had been.

“Hi you two,” her mom said, embracing Harry next. “Come in, you must be exhausted from the drive.”

They made their way inside, the screen door slamming shut behind them. Inside it felt like her mom—a winter candle burning on the counter, the news softly running on the TV, a blanket thrown over the couch. A glass of wine sat on the coffee table half-empty and Y/N looked at it longingly. How was she going to make it until June without a nice relaxing glass of wine at night?

Harry was talking to her mom, telling her about the drive and how they’d stopped for burgers, her mom telling him about her preferred In-n-Out order. “Let me take you back to the room,” she said, and Y/N and Harry trailed behind her to the guest bedroom where a fresh set of sheets adorned the bed, a soft glow from the bedside table lamp. “Here you are,” she said, leaning against the wall as Harry set up the suitcases in the corner. “I’ll let you guys settle in for a minute. I’ll be in the kitchen, okay?”

Y/N nodded and her mom left the room, shutting the door behind her. She looked to Harry, who was sitting on the bed, a lingering gaze on her face. “What are you thinking about?”

“Didn’t realize you didn’t have a bedroom here.”

Y/N glanced around the room, the nondescript art making it obvious that it wasn’t Y/N’s room. There were no traces of her in it except for the framed photos on the dresser of her and her mom from her childhood, the ones her dad’s best friend had taken when she was seven. “When she moved up here it just didn’t make sense,” she explained. “Only two bedrooms, after all.”

“Mhm,” Harry said, grabbing her waist so she could nestle between his knees. “Kinda liked the idea of sleeping in your childhood bed.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she murmured against his lips, bending down to kiss him. “Well, don’t worry, we’ll be sleeping in yours to make up for it.”

He nudged at her neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there, a soft gasp leaving Y/N’s mouth. “Can you believe I’ll have my girl and my baby in bed with me?” He kissed the juncture of her jaw and neck and she carded her fingers through his hair, loving the way his eyes fluttered shut from the touch.

“Lucky man,” she said.

He kissed her one more time before saying, “Got that right.”

Hearing her mom in the kitchen, she pulled away from his grasp. “We should go out to my mom.”

“Gonna tell her now?” He asked, standing up from the bed.

Y/N considered it. It was late, but she couldn’t very well stand in her mother’s house and pretend. “Yeah. I don’t want to pretend.” She bent down, unzipping her suitcase so she could pull out her mom’s gift from where it was tucked in between her clothes. With a kiss between her shoulder blades, Harry followed her out of the room, their gift held tightly in her fingers.

She was nervous, she had to admit, as she walked into the room. Her mother had always wanted her to wait until she was older to have kids, to have a full career and life before she started a family. But she didn’t think that her mom would be unhappy with her once she told her—her mom had always been there for her, through thick and thin, every step of the way. This was changing Y/N’s life forever, so of course her mom would be supportive, she told herself.

“Mama?”

Her mom’s head popped up from where she stood at the sink, washing dishes from her dinner. “Room okay?” She asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Great,” Harry answered, hand squeezing Y/N’s. “We wanted to give you your Christmas gift, actually.”

“Oh!” Her mom’s eyes widened, eyes darting to her small tree nestled in the corner of the living room. “Thought we could wait for the morning, but that’s fine. Can I get you anything? Wine, water?”

“Water is perfect,” Harry replied. He had promised to abstain from the same things she had to, a promise Y/N wasn’t sure he would be able to keep but loved the idea of. He had been so sweet when he’d made it, pushing the bottles of wine to the back of his pantry and swearing he wouldn’t touch a sip of alcohol until the baby was born.

Her mom filled two glasses with water and together they all migrated to the living room. Y/N could feel her heart hammering in her chest. This was more anxiety-inducing than telling her dad, who she knew wouldn’t say a word to her about it, be nothing but supportive. But her mom had a tendency to be a bit judgmental, a side Y/N had experience a few times in her life and one she hated. She swallowed her fear, though, and handed her mom the paper bag, the tissue paper crinkling in the room.

She leaned into Harry’s side as her mom opened the bag, thankful for the comfort of his arm wrapping around her waist softly, the reminder of him being there to support her.

Then her mom pulled out the onesie, “I <3 Grandma!” embroidered on the front, flowers all over the material, and her mom yelped in surprise. She looked up at the two of them, eyes wide, disbelief all over her features. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, unsure how to read her mom’s reaction.

“This isn’t a prank? I’ve seen them on the internet before.”

Of course she had. “No, Mom. It’s real.”

Her mom didn’t said anything for a bear, her eyes flickering between the onesie and Y/N, and then to Harry and back down. “Congratulations, honey,” she finally said. “Harry, can I talk to Y/N alone for a bit?”

Harry stirred against her. “Uh, of course. I’ll be in the room, okay, love?” He pulled away, a lingering kiss to her head, and left the room, leaving Y/N and her mom alone.

When the door clicked shut, her mom finally spoke. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied without even thinking. “I thought a lot about it before I even told Harry, and we talked about it once I told him. He wants this baby, and so do I.”

“But your career,” her mom said, voice hardening and the sound making Y/N stomach curl. “It’s just starting out. Won’t this affect it at all?”

“I can still be a mom and work,” she said, pointedly. “You did it, after all.”

“I was 33 when I had you,” her mom reminded her. “You’re only two years out of school.”

Y/N sighed. This was the exact reaction she didn’t want from her mom, but at the same time it didn’t surprise her. “This wasn’t in the plan and I know the timing isn’t great, but I want to have this baby. I love Harry and he’s going to be an amazing father.” Her hand slipped down to cup her belly, where a bump wasn’t quite apparent but would be soon enough.

“When he’s here,” her mother said and Y/N glanced up from her belly to her mother, whose expression was blank.

“What does that mean?”

Her mother gave her a pointed look. “You know exactly what that means, Y/N. You’re going to be essentially a single mom. It’s not even like it was with your dad—Harry’s one of the most popular celebrities in the world. How is he going to be able to be here for you? For your child? And what about privacy—have you even thought about what it’s going to be like to raise a child in the public eye? How are you going to have playdates and send your child to school and let them live a normal life? It was so hard for me—you saw that. It was hard on you to have your dad gone all the time, and you always told me how you didn’t want that. And now here you are, doing it all over again.”

Y/N could feel her heart beating faster, the anger rising in her body. She hated it when her mom spoke like this about her father, as if all that happened in her life was all because of her dad, but she knew it wasn’t true. She loved her father, always had, despite her mother’s attempts to sow seeds of discontent in her. “Harry isn’t my dad,” she said, trying to keep her voice measured, but failing miserably. “He wants this child, Mom! I tried to shut him out, tried to force him to leave, and he wouldn’t let me! He wants to raise this child and he wants to raise it with me. We talk about things, you know—it’s not like you and Dad, living in a house where you don’t even talk to one another.” Suddenly it was spilling from her, all the things unsaid over the years, her anger at her mother’s attack on not only herself, but on Harry who had been nothing but good. “You don’t know Harry, so how dare you paint him to be someone he isn’t.”

“He may want this baby now,” her mother said, a lace of venom dripping from her words that Y/N hadn’t heard in years. “But what about whenever you’re telling him he can’t tour because you need help? And what about whenever you’re left at home, taking care of a child while the father of your child is off gallivanting across the world? Will you still want him around then?”

She pushed herself off the couch, the desire to argue with her mother not something she wanted to play into. She just wanted to get out of there, to grab Harry and go. The way her mother spoke to her about Harry made her see red, and she didn’t want to hear it anymore.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Y/N.”

At the sound of her mother’s words, Y/N whirled around, staring her mother straight in the eyes. “I’m not a child, Mom. I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve thought long and hard about this decision, about how my life is going to change, and this is the decision I made. This is the decision I made with Harry. We’re talking about his tour, how he’s going to do it. We’re talking about the life we’re going to have together. But I also know who he is—he loves what he does, and I love that it makes him happy. I can’t ask him to give it up, even if it would be easier, because it’s part of who he is. If he didn’t have that, he wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.

“I don’t care what you think about this,” she said and she realized the words were true. Her mother’s opinion of her didn’t matter nearly as much as it used to and she didn’t know when that had changed. “I’m doing this and I would love your support, but if it’s not there, I’ll be okay. But I’m not going to sleep under your roof while you speak about the man I love like that.” And with that, she spun on her heel and walked down the hall, heading straight for the guest bedroom where Harry was waiting for her.

When she pushed open the door, Harry was already on his feet, walking towards her. “We’re leaving,” she told him, ignoring the arms he held out for her. “Now. We’ll find a hotel—I just cannot be here with her right now.”

Harry nodded, not fighting her on it. He had probably heard the entire fight—the walls in her mother’s house weren’t thick. He helped her zip up her suitcase and find her phone that she had plugged in, tucking everything into her purse without a word. They left the room they had barely even settled into, suitcases behind them as they walked down the hall.

Her mom stood in the same exact spot, staring as they walked towards her. “Please, Y/N—“

“No,” she said, cutting her mom off. “I came here hoping you would be happy for us, but if you aren’t that’s okay. Just don’t call me until you are ready to welcome Harry, and our baby, with open arms.” She unlocked the door and pushed the screen door open, holding it as Harry exited behind her.

“Wait,” Harry said as she went to close the door. He pushed it open and stepped into the house, Y/N watching as he looked her mom straight in the eye. “I love your daughter, Trisha,” he said, “and I’m not going anywhere. I cannot wait to have a family with her, to love her for the rest of my life. And I hope you can come to accept that.” He pulled the door shut behind him, Y/N watching him with wide eyes and love in her heart. “Come on,” he said, tucking his hand in hers. “Let’s go.”

He pulled out of the driveway wordlessly, holding Y/N’s hand tight over the console. “I love you,” she said, her words making Harry glance at her. “Endlessly.”

With a soft kiss to her hand, she knew that she had made the right decision. “I love you more,” he said.

They found a hotel downtown, Harry running the room on his credit card despite her protests, and took the elevator upstairs to their room. Y/N was exhausted from fighting with her mom, even if it wasn’t long. She hated arguing with people, but especially her mom. And now she was sitting on a hotel bed as Harry set up their room, running through the argument in her head over and over again, playing over each of her words, analyzing each with precision.

“Baby,” Harry said, crawling across the bed behind her so his body surrounded hers. “Come shower with me.”

She leaned back into his body, letting him absorb her weight. “I can’t believe she said those things.”

“Me either,” he agreed, “but can we shower and then talk about it? Know you’ll feel better after.”

“I guess,” she said, letting him pull her off the bed and guide her into the bathroom, the look on her mother’s face when the door slammed shut behind her in her brain on repeat.

With delicate hands, Harry untied the laces of her Converse, peeling her socks off and not reacting when she tried to get him to stop, worried her feet smelled. Instead, he looked up at her and said, “Bit past that, love.” He pulled her sweater off, then her loose-fitting jeans, then made her turn around so he could unclip her bra and shimmied her underwear down her body, leaving her naked in the hotel bathroom. He shed his clothes in rapid time and turned on the shower, warm water cascading down from the shower head. “C’mon,” he said, stepping in and beckoning to her, his curls flattening under the water. “Let me wash your hair.”

The prospect sounded divine, so she followed him in, letting him position her so she was directly under the stream. He hummed a tune she hadn’t heard before as he squirted the hotel shampoo in her hair, running it through her locks tenderly.

“What’s that?” She asked, bobbing her head back so he could get better access to her locks.

“Hm?”

“The song that you’re humming.”

“Oh,” he said, pushing her head forward to let the water rinse out the shampoo. “Wrote it a few days ago.”

Conditioner was next, a blob in his hands before he started massaging it into her hair. “What’s it about?”

He was quiet for a minute, untangling each of the knots in her hair like he knew she did. “Our baby,” he said, words so quiet they were almost lost under the stream of water.

She turned around in his hold, eyes fastening on his. The water was warm on her skin as she looked up at him, wonder in her brain at the sweetness in his eyes as he ran his fingers up and down her arms. “Really?”

He nodded, a flush to her cheeks that she adored. “Woke up in the middle of the night and the tune just…came to me. Don’t quite have all the lyrics yet, though.”

Without a pause, she pulled his body into hers, struggling to find the way to show him how that made her feel. “Will you play it for me when it’s done?”

“It was goin’ to be your birthday present,” he mumbled.

“I guess I’ll wait,” she told him and turned back around to let him continue washing her hair. “I meant what I told my mom.”

“Hoped so.” He brushed his hand through her hair to let the conditioner run out of it. “Nearly made me cry.”

“Why?”

He paused. “So different from when you first told me,” he said, words rough in his throat. “To hear how you feel now, how you defended me to your mum, it meant a lot to me.”

“H,” you said, “I love you. No matter what.”

He didn’t reply, but she knew it wasn’t because he didn’t feel the same way, but because if he told her he would cry. She could hear it in his words, feel it in the air between them. Instead, he showed her how much he loved her by lovingly pulling out the knots in her hair, by washing every inch of her body, by even helping her shave her armpits, by wrapping her up in a hotel robe after and rubbing lotion into her skin. He passed her a toothbrush with toothpaste on it and side-by-side they brushed they teeth, soft gazes in the mirror. And then he turned off the light and pulled her into bed next to him, arms surrounding her body and holding her as she cried, her mother’s words swirling through her thoughts. He pressed kisses to her hair and murmured how much he loved her, how proud he was, what a great mother she was going to be. With each touch he helped heal her heart, push the words away, focus on the truth: that she was happy with him, no matter what anyone tried to convince her of. She just hoped he would stay around even when she doubted it.

The drive to Holmes Chapel brought Y/N peace, the English countryside a warm embrace, the settled and peaceful look on Harry’s face making her smile as he drove. She had been ignoring text messages from her mother since she had woken up, and being away from Wi-Fi meant her phone wasn’t buzzing with text messages and phone calls every few minutes. Suddenly, Y/N was thankfully for the fact that she didn’t have cell service in England, because it made her push away her worries and focus fully on Harry.

He was describing his mother’s home to her. The furniture collected from charity shops over the years, Anne having a knack for finding the thrown away and giving it a new home, despite his many offers to buy her new furniture. She liked filling her house with stories of the past, of considering the life a side table or a throw pillow had before it found her. Y/N thought it was quite sweet, and from what she knew about Anne it didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Gemma and her boyfriend Michal were going to be there when they arrived, both of the Styles children bringing home their significant others, something which apparently Harry hadn’t done in a while. When he revealed this, she smiled and told him that she was honored to be there.

It was a three hour drive that passed quickly, since Y/N fell asleep about halfway in, her head lolling on her shoulder as the countryside passed by. She woke to Harry’s voice, murmuring, “We’re here, love,” in her ear and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Time to go give my mum the surprise of her life, yeah?”

That idea woke Y/N up right away. She was admittedly nervous to tell Harry’s mother, especially after how telling her own had gone. Although from what she knew of Anne and Harry’s own accounts, Anne seemed to be much more willing to go with the flow, surprises rolling off of her quickly after years with Harry Styles as her son. So she tried not to dwell on it as Anne and Gemma rushed out of the house, enveloping Harry into their arms and then Y/N, a flurry of hugs and kisses to the cheeks that had her feeling like she was being welcomed home.

The house was smaller than Y/N expected, but somehow perfect. A wide white door and a lovely patio outside, white framed windows that reminded her of her own childhood home. There was red brick she loved and a large tree outside. “You look beautiful, dear,” Anne said, an arm around Y/N’s shoulders as she guided her inside. “Glowing, you are. You must tell me your secret!”

Pregnancy, she thought to herself, but instead just said, “Lots of moisturizer,” which had Anne chuckling to herself.

The house was just as Harry had described. Laden with rugs and family photos, a few of Harry’s awards on the walls, displayed with pride. A giant Christmas tree sat in the corner, hung heavily with ornaments and tinsel, Y/N smiling at the sight of an ornament with a young Harry’s face on it, her having a nearly identical one at home on her mother’s tree. Although she didn’t have time to notice it. “So this is it.” She turned and found Harry standing behind her, watching her study his childhood home. “What do you think?”

“It’s exactly as you said,” she replied. “I love it.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Want to see my room?”

“Desperately,” she replied, which had Harry chuckling.

“Mum,” he called into the house, “I’m going to show Y/N my room. Be back in a jiffy.”

“Don’t make too much racket!” She heard Gemma holler through the hall, “These walls are thin, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“Shut it!” Harry replied, Y/N laughing at their exchange, it making her wish for not the first time that she had a sibling. “Come on, love.”

They climbed the stairs, Y/N commenting on his yearly school portraits that decorated the staircase, which he tried to cover her eyes for so she couldn’t see them, but she managed to wrangle free. She had to admit that Harry was a downright adorable child, although when she looked at his face—dimple and crinkled eyes from laughter, she wasn’t surprised. The thought had her considering what their child would look like, which she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of.

“Whatcha smilin’ about?”

“Thought about what our child would look like,” she said softly, Harry’s eyes lighting up at the thought.

His hands found her waist, tucking her close to him, her back pressed against the wallpapered walls of the second floor. “And what are you thinking?”

“With your face,” she said, a finger running down his cheek, “and my brain, they’re going to be unstoppable.”

He frowned. “But your face is nicer.”

“They have to have your eyes,” she said with a pointed look. “I’m not willing to compromise on that. And your dimples.”

He smiled at her, the dimple in question popping out. “My dimples, eh?”

“Mhm,” she murmured. “Quite like them.” She stuck her index finger into the depth of it, the chuckle escaping his lips warming her body that was still cold from the December chill.

“I’ll allow it as long as they have your ears and your lips,” he said, a lingering kiss pressed to the latter. “Now let me kiss you in my childhood bed, for Pete’s sake.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she said, and let him lead her into his room. It was an alcove room, one he could barely stand up fully straight in, and somehow it suited him. The walls were a simple cream, but covered in posters of bands from eight years ago, when life was simple and he was still sixteen. An overstuffed bookcase sat against one wall and an oak dresser, most likely empty, sat next to it with photos of him and his family scattered across it. The main attraction though, was the bed, an oak headboard attached to it with plenty of pillows and a checkered duvet cover that reminded her of the ones she had seen in the dorm rooms of boys at college.

“Well?” Harry asked from where he leaned against the closed door. “Is it how you imagined?”

She turned and she couldn’t help herself—the appearance of Harry in a beanie and an oversized sweatshirt in his childhood bedroom with a shit-eating grin on his face made her want to have him in every way possible. “Better,” she replied before backing up until the back of her thighs hit the edge of his bed. “But better if you eat me out on your childhood bed.”

“Fuck me,” he breathed, feet moving quickly to reach her, hands on her cheeks before she could process it. His lips were sweet, wet from when he’d licked them before pulling her in, and his palms were calloused against her skin. But he felt like Harry—her Harry—and that’s all that mattered to her. With a nip at her neck, he fell to his knees in front of her, eyes darting up at hers as he shimming off her leggings and the blue cotton underwear underneath them. “Like these,” he mumbled against the skin of her inner thighs. “Might have to keep them.”

She gasped when his tongue licked up the length of her slit, the sensitivity from not having him on her skin in the past few nights combined with the raging hormones in her bloodstream had her keening for him. “They’re just cotton,” she said through gritted teeth when he sucked on her clit, toying with her. “Harry, Jesus.” “Not my name,” he smiled against her and Y/N couldn’t help but tug on his hair as if to tell him Shut it you narcissist, which just made Harry chuckle. The vibrations sent shockwaves through her body, her head falling back as a moan of his name left her mouth. “Gotta be quiet,” he reminded her, shoving two fingers in her mouth that she quickly accepted, lolling her tongue around them like it was a lollipop. The sight had Harry bucking into the end of the bed, which Y/N just grinned at, not missing it for a second. When Harry had his mouth on her, she couldn’t look anywhere else.

Then he darted his tongue inside of her and Y/N’s hand went to her breasts, which had grown from her pregnancy and Harry didn’t seem to mind, adoring how sensitive they were. “More,” she begged, voice rough in the room. “Please, please, H.”

“Comin’ love,” he said, sucking on two of his fingers before pressing one to her slit, the cold feeling of his rings on her hot flesh making her gasp. “Like that, baby? Like it when I fuck you with my fingers, my rings still on? The fingers you just had in your mouth?”

“Harry,” she groaned, trying to contain the sounds threatening to escape her. Not being able to hold up her body anymore she rested on her hands, propping up her body on his mattress. She knew that it made her breasts stick out, which Harry loved—he was a man, after all—and the sound of him grunting at the sight made her smile at him coyly. “Like the view?”

He sucked on her clit in response before twirling his tongue in a cruel circle around her labia. “Love the view,” he muttered against her, spit falling from his mouth. “Love you, baby. Fuck, look at you as I fuck you—like you’re made for me.”

“Close,” she said, the sound muffled against her hand she had thrown over her mouth to keep the sounds in. She was leaning on just one hand, unsteady and about to let go if he let her. She loved to let him control her orgasms, the sound of him telling her to come always sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Yeah?” He said, inserting another finger and curling them so she was bucking against his hand, his name an echo on her tongue. “Come for me,” he murmured, fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady, his rings imprints on her skin. “But you gotta stay quiet love—I’ll have you screaming for me when we’re home, okay?”

She turned her head into the duvet in an attempt to silence the scream rising in her chest, but when she came, it just simply wasn’t enough. Anne and Gemma would’ve probably heard her if they were outside the door, a muffled scream of his name flowing from her mouth. She bucked against his hand, chasing her high and Harry licked her through it, the cold saliva from his tongue and his rings inside of her making her body shake.

“Fuck,” Harry said when she finally came down, body pliant in his hands. “That was bloody incredible.”

He pulled his fingers from her, a hiss leaving her teeth at the emptiness inside of her. “That’s how you got me pregnant,” she told him with a laugh.

“But that involves my dick,” he informed her, crawling up her body so he could smother her face in kisses, the slick of her still on his chin.

“Yes,” she said, pushing him away. “But it was that and then your dick that got me pregnant. You’re good, you know.” She rolled over, a hand on his chest. “Not that you need to hear it. Your ego is already too big for this relationship.”

“Ha!” He grabbed at her sides, pulling her closer into him. “You love my big ego. And my dick.”

Her head dropped to his chest with a groan of defeat. “God, you’re such a boy sometimes, I swear.”

With a kiss to her temple, he sat up and tugged her along with him. “C’mon, we can’t stay too much longer or Gemma will never let me forget it.” She licked at his chin, letting the rest of her juices land on her tongue before following him downstairs, trying not the laugh at the way he walked, obviously trying not to let the material brush against his dick too much. She truly loved a menace, she thought to herself. But he was her menace.

In the kitchen, Gemma, Anne, and Michal were sat with cups of tea, two set out for Y/N and Harry that had now gone cold. “Took you long enough,” Gemma said. “Tea’s gone cold while you two got reacquainted upstairs.”

“Gem,” Anne scolded. “Don’t embarrass your brother.” Gemma rolled her eyes, but stood up to reheat their tea.

Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N and she leaned into him, loving how his hands subconsciously rested on her lower belly, right over where their child rested. “Mum, Gem” he said as Gemma returned with their now warm tea. “We have somethin’ for you.”

“Oh!” Anne set down her tea and surveyed the two of them. “But we don’t do gifts until the morning of.” That was still two days away, but obviously Harry was eager. Y/N had told him that he could choose when he wanted to tell Anne, and it seemed like now was the time he had chosen. He was like Y/N, she thought to herself, unable to keep a secret from her parents for long.

“I know,” Harry replied. “But want to give it to you both now.”

Gemma shrugged. “I don’t mind an early gift,” she said.

“Perfect. One second,” Harry told them, disconnecting his arms from Y/N’s waist. “It’s in our luggage. Meet me in the living room?”

They all nodded and Harry disappeared, the sound of a zipper in the other room. “Well, he’s certainly excited,” Anne told Y/N, coming over and giving her a smile. “It’s good to see him so happy.”

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how often Anne had seen her son unhappy over the years, how many women had broken his heart, how many times the world had broken him down. Harry had shared some of it—the disappointment over Zayn leaving, the women who had ripped him to shreds since Harry gave his heart so willingly—but not all of it. She supposed with time, she would learn it all, but she was no longer eager to uncover every stone of him that she was when they were starting out. Now, she knew she would have quite a long time to know every part of Harry, and the idea quite appealed to her.

Anne and Gemma sat on the couch, Michal in one of the armchairs, and Y/N took the other one, the one closest to the fire burning in the hearth that stockings hung from. After growing up with solely warm winters, it was nice to be someplace cold for a change.

Harry wandered in with the last two bags, one for Anne and one for Gemma. Gemma’s was Y/N’s favorite, the one that said, “I love Auntie” in multi-colored letters and confetti all over it. She fully planned on finagling it back from Gemma so she could actually dress their child in it one day. “Here you are,” Harry said, handing both the bags over before going to sit on the arm of Y/N’s chair, her hand in his.

Gemma looked at her mother. “On the count of three?” Anne nodded, a playful smile, and they counted down, Harry squeezing Y/N’s hand in anticipation.

“Oh,” Anne said when she pulled out the onesie, the one nearly identical to Y/N’s mom’s. She looked up at Y/N and Harry and there were tears in her eyes that made Y/N want to cry. “Really?”

“You’re pregnant!” Gemma shrieked, dropping the onesie before bounding over to Y/N. “Oh my god, I’m going to be an Aunt! A little niece or nephew!” She grabbed her into a hug, laughing with joy in Y/N’s ears. “Best Christmas gift. Oh my god, Haz!” Gemma pulled her brother into a tight hug, and Y/N’s eyes rested on Anne who was full on crying at the onesie in her hands.

Harry saw it and went over to his mom, his arm around her shoulders. “You’re going to be a grandma,” he told her, which only made her cry harder. “Mum?”

“Happy,” she reassured him, before taking his face in her hands. “So happy I could explode!” This was the reaction Y/N wanted, she thought to herself, surveying the scene of pure joy. “Y/N,” Anne said, arms outstretched. “Come here, love!”

Y/N practically floated to Anne, the prospect of a mother’s arms around her exactly what she needed. Anne bundled her up in them, tears still streaming down her face as she gave her a tight hug. “We’re due in mid-June,” she said when Anne pulled back, it being the only thing she could think to say.

Anne beamed at her, eyes darting between her and Harry. “My word,” she told them. “This it the best surprise. A little baby! My baby boy,” she said, taking Harry’s face in her hands and kissing his cheeks, “is going to be a Dad.”

Harry’s eyes caught Y/N over his mother’s shoulders, a reassuring gaze that told her he knew what she was thinking. That he wanted to remind her it would all turn out okay. And when she looked around her to the happy scene, the fire in the hearth and the joy on the faces in the room, she knew he was right.

Harry purposefully woke up earlier than Y/N on Christmas morning. He had been trying to figure out when to give the key to his house (not that she didn’t already have one, but it was the idea that counted) and finally he had settled on Christmas Day. So when he awoke, snow falling softly outside his window, he scrambled out of bed to grab the key he had wrapped up in a box the night before with his mother’s help.

“Harry?” Y/N’s sleepy voice came from the bed, her hand sticking out to the place where he’d just been lying.

He loved that she always craved his presence in her sleep. He had noticed it early on, the way she held him in her sleep, always burrowed deeper into his body, was hesitant to let go of him in the morning. With the box in his hand, he crawled back onto the bed, occupying his old space. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, placing the box on her pillow, right next to her head.

Her eyes fluttered open, eyelashes brushing against the pillowcase. Then her gaze met the blue box tied with a white ribbon sitting on the pillow, and her eyes widened. “What’s this?”

“One of your Christmas gifts,” he said. “Didn’t want it to be in front of the whole family.”

She sat up, pushing back the duvet cover revealing his old school shirt that she had worn to bed. When he had told her to pick anything she wanted, she had gone through every shirt in his drawer before settling on this one, loving how soft the material was from years of use. Harry loved how she looked in his clothes, but seeing her in the mornings with messy hair and adorned in his Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School shirt made his heart clench.

He didn’t know how she would respond to the gesture, the request for her to move in with him. To his brain, it made sense—they were having a kid together, after all—but he also knew how Y/N was about these things. It meant commitment and she was always hesitant to take that next step. “Open it,” he told her, sitting up too so their bodies faced one another.

Her fingers grasped the edge of the box, eyes flickering to his face before pulling it open. Inside lay the key to his house, golden and ridged, the one that fit perfectly into the lock on his front door. “Harry…”

“Will you move in with me?”

For a few beats, she just stared at the key, but when her eyes raised to his, he knew what she was going to say. “Yes.”

He leaned over and kissed her, one filled with love and passion and everything he was trying to say. She dropped the box to the bed and let him press her back into the mattress. “Can’t wait to make you come in our bed,” he mumbled against her cheek, drawing a chuckle from her, but she didn’t stop him she he drew her underwear to the side and dropped to his knees, wanting his girl to start her Christmas off right.

TAGLIST:

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#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles dad

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saleintothe90s · 4 years ago

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431. Martin Lawrence's SNL Monologue (2-19-1994)

Wait, how did I get to this subject? Oh, right I was reading one of the final articles on the SNL a Day Blog. In the farewell post, Martin Lawrence's notorious SNL monologue was listed as one of the items that the author overrated upon his original viewing. For the record, he originally gave the monologue 1 1/2 stars. I was trying to remember what Martin had said that was so controversial...something about him lecturing women about their dirty private parts?

No, it's far worse.

(Because the SNL stage during the "Saturday Night Dead" period in the show's history is the perfect place to voice your opinion on feminine hygiene.)

The best copy I found of the episode is on archive.org. The episode starts out with Rob Schneider playing Jeff Gillooly!

Martin enters the studio with a phrase I say to myself all the time:

He starts out with a lame bit about Lorena and John Bobbitt. He uses the strangest term I've ever heard for male genitalia: pilly-packers. I know he's trying to get around the censors, and he said at the beginning that they're on him a lot these days, but pilly-packers?

He makes up a story about a brother finding the penis, and putting it on a snow-cone to preserve it:

And he thought, and he said “what would a white man do, what would a white man do?” You know, and the first thing came to the brother’s head was get it on ice, you know. So he saw an ice cream truck, you know, threw the pilly-packer on some sno-cones, you know. It scares me so bad I don’t go to bed without a Nutty Buddy by my side, y’all.

I had forgotten how it was really found, so I looked it up, and turns out the cops did put it on ice ... and put it in a big bite hot dog box. really?

Let me prepare you for what happens next, when this episode later aired in repeats this pops up after the Bobbitt bit:

But if you were watching on the East Coast, the night it aired, this is what you got:

(source)

Something else concerns me and it hurts, see I’m, I’m single, I’m a single man, I don’t have nobody, I’m looking for somebody and- but I’m meeting a lot of women out there, and you got some beautiful women, but you got some out there that, uh, I gotta say somethin’. Um… some of you are not washing your ass properly.* (laughter & applause) OK? Don’t- don’t get me wrong, not all, some of you, you know what I’m sayin’, uh… I’m sorry, ‘Cause uh, listen, now, I don’t know what it is a woman got to do to keep up the hygiene on the body I know, uh, I’m watching douche commercials on television, and I’m wonderin’ if some of you are reading the instructions. I don’t think so. Y’know, ’cause I’m getting with some of the ladies, smelling odors, going “Wait a minute. (gestures with index finger) Girl, smell this! This you! Smell yourself, girl.

Smell yourself! I tell a woman in a minute, douche! douche! Some women don’t like when you tell them that, when you straightforward with them. “Douche!” They, (imitating woman) “Forget you! You cannot douche all the time, you’re gonna wash all the natural juices out the body.”

I say, well, I don't give a damn what you do, put a Tic-Tac in your ass. Put a Cert in your ass. Oh, oh, y’know, this look like a good damn place for a Stick-up up in your ass.

I’m sorry, y’all. You got to wash properly. You know, and then, you know, ’cause I’m a man, I like to kiss on women, you know, I like to kiss all over their bodies, you know. But if you’re not clean in your proper areas I can’t… you know… kiss all over the places I wanna kiss. You know, some women’ll let you go down, you know what I’m sayin’, knowin’ they got a yeast infection. (Some audience disgust) I’m sorry. Sorry. Come up with dough all on your damn lip… Got a bagel and a croissant on your lip. “Anybody got any butter?” I like jelly on mine.

---

I love that the transcriber put "some audience disgust". When Martin said, "Yeast infection", this one lady definitely yelled out, "EW!"

Welp, the calls started coming in on the East Coast. 117 complaints 1. Speaking of which, who calls who when they want to complain? The local channel? the FCC? Martin did the hygiene routine in dress rehearsal, telling the audience that he knew he couldn't do it live. 3 Well, he did it anyway.

On the West Coast, parts were silenced out 3. Here is a post from 1994 to the alt.snl.tv newsgroup:

In the aftermath, Martin's appearance on the Tonight Show later on that week was canceled, much to the objection of host Jay Leno. 2

1. AP NEWS. “NBC Official Apologizes to Affiliates for ‘Saturday Night Live’ Gaffes.” Accessed April 18, 2021. https://apnews.com/article/ae84c412a4639129423fa1e5e8a3d4e1.

2. “Martin Lawrence: Dr. Dirt or Mr. Clean? : Barred by NBC, He’s Generally Blue on Stage but Not on TV.” Los Angeles Times, March 8, 1994. https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1994-03-08-ca-31550-story.html, https://archive.is/Z5Wks#selection-1991.9-2004.0

3. Mink, Eric. “NBC Says `SNL’ Host Broke Promises on Monologue.” Tulsa World. Accessed April 18, 2021. https://tulsaworld.com/archive/nbc-says-snl-host-broke-promises-on-monologue/article_486f1b9c-6d60-5a44-933e-4b96d3f218f3.html.

#saturday night live #martin lawrence #1994 #the 1990s

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levyfiles · 4 years ago

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Only 9 years of Anger but it’s been 30+ years of trauma.

I’m a Canadian multiracial woman who grew up in a community that was not as diverse as it is now. Since I was a little girl, I’ve encountered several instances of baffling behaviour toward me that only in hindsight did I come to understand it was because of my colour. The jokes about watermelon, dumb edgy nonblack kids who think I’ll think they’re cool if they drop the n-word around me. Some fool who everyone thought was funny in high school lead a rendition of Hero by Enrique Iglesias and replaced the word hero for “negro” as he played guitar at a Christian school camp retreat to zero consequence. I was nicknamed Aunt Jemima by older boys because I wouldn’t date them. All this stuff was background noise because my number one awareness of being a Canadian was that despite all this, I would never be treated as bad as an indigenous person would be treated in this country. So I laughed off the jokes, ignored the jabs, ignored the n-word, played the “cool black person” who let things slide because that was how you survived. I made it to my 20’s being passive and moderate, and at some juncture I realised my friend circle was occupied by people who used my colour and my race as a punchline. It was like something snapped in me after college; I stopped being passive, I wanted to learn how to be myself and be proud of my heritage instead of acting like I was some ambassador for every white person in authority who wanted me to nod and say “no no I’m okay with your opinion, so please hire me.”

In 2011, I broadened my friend group to people who had had similar experiences but hadn’t backed down, people who had a community to back them up so they didn’t cower at the idea of facing their own trauma. That’s when I started to make friends online who came from different and diverse perspectives. Starting that year I began reading first-hand accounts of police brutality cases and their large numbers. I heard about black sex workers in the states being harassed and disappearing when they complained. I heard about the way young black men are taught to keep their hands visible because even a parking ticket could get you killed. I was angry and heartbroken but I noticed that despite the fact that I was furious and cross-posting everything I learned on twitter and every other blog space I occupied, barely anyone who wasn’t black wanted to interact with it. It was like I was touting some kind of religion, asking people to believe that people in and out of this country had a disease called racism.

The few people who used their public platform to talk about it were dismissed as crazy. After Trayvon Martin, my heart just stayed broken, and then the "mysterious suicide" of Sandra Bland and the mug shot they took with her body propped up in the police station when she had already been murdered fully wrecked me because so few people cared. There was always some excuse as to why these people deserved to be murdered; as if suddenly people got amnesia about the ideal of the justice system and due process. As if people should really be all right with a young teen being shot in the street was all right because there was no one else there to see it happen or why. Soon followed a rash of different cases, and almost everyone close to me who wasn't black had some opinion about it whether that's telling us not to get too angry, to protest the way MLK jr said we should when his very own words talked about anger and pain and the way it spills out of people who only want to exist. He said unrest doesn’t develop out of thin air and that it’s the language of the unheard. I watched Colin Kaepernick get publicly ridiculed and watched white creators whisper a little about it if they weren’t against it. There was a shyness in the energy about the content I read or watched and I had somehow accepted that that would always be the case with people working with platforms online. I watched Tumblr delete a whole tag about BLM because people decided it was starting arguments. I watched white content creators make jokes about Tamir Rice, about Kaepernick until they stopped getting laughs.

It's now been 9 years later and even though 2011 was the first I had ever sat and listened to the truth about these cases and I had been furious and hurt since then, it was not the beginning of the problem and my making noise about it and trying to make people understand at the time fell on a lot of ears that didn’t want to listen. People who were experiencing the pain first-hand were screaming louder and louder until Hollywood got a nice chokehold on it and posted a print of Chris Pine with tears in his eyes and called that the face of the civil rights movement.

So now I find that I’m experiencing a strong sense of deja vu watching people younger than me, or my white peers finally get it. I see posts about it everywhere, white creators and white celebrities posting support and empathy. It feels like a sharp awakening of the world and the chance that there’s hope for all the people who have been yelling and screaming for justice long before I ever became aware of the score.

It also feels terrifying.

Because sometimes white creators don’t take stock of their audience. They see them often as a monolith of people who support and engage with their content, so they’ll post a handy instagram quote, or an edit with links to donate; they’ll post their own call to action. Now the activism is something it never was before, it’s “Cool”. BLM is trending; it’s a quick view count and an absolutely easy and performative way to say “Sorry” for all the times in the past these white creators said the n-word, all the times in the past they dismissed diversity because it was inconvenient to them, and all the times they ignored the casual racism in their own content and the transformative content of their audience. So their white kid audience, who are happy to follow them blindly to the next trend, don’t fully understand the impact of what’s happening now. They’re making their edits, they’re changing their twitter handles to ACAB and BLM, they’re performing just fine. It should be a good thing, right?

Then why are there white kids out on the street saying they’re protesting. Saying they are here to make change but they’re caught with baseball bats breaking windows, instigating confrontations and running away for black people to deal with it. Why are they out there living their favourite purge fantasy so they can go home satisfied and safe while people are being tear-gassed and trampled by police? Why do they go home and make their mood boards and their t-shirts and their etsy sales for cool “protest looks”. The tired tiktoks that are just recreated audio of black creators being spooned off so a white face can be the one saying the very thing black creators are brave enough to put on social media at the risk of getting hurt!

Don’t get me wrong. This is all necessary in the growing pains of a worldwide movement. It’s the #stopkony2012 of 2020 because even back then when the performance was on, no one was actually doing the reading. Internationally the whole internet went ham on a cause that had already been dealt with by its own victims.

What I’m basically saying here is that fighting for human rights isn’t a game; this isn’t a cool new thing you can jump in on because the chaos keeps you hidden. Take this seriously; bring this energy to the polls, and KEEP this energy for the future even when the trending page isn’t interested in giving you money for your cause, even when your friends get bored and decide that they want to move on to the next cool thing to perform activism for. Be real. Continue to practice empathy for those whose stories you ignored up until now. Non-Black content creators, your new awareness of something happening is not an absolution of your willful ignorance in the past. Do your reading; educate yourself. Because while you may be just discovering the outrage and the hurt of witnessing a black person being murdered and the pulling teeth aggravation that comes with zero justice, people have been dealing with this far longer than you or I.

#black lives matter #racism #personal

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atlafan · 5 years ago

Text

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-Seven

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

a/n: shorter part tonight since last night was so long.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“Babe? Gotta package.” Harry says as he comes in from work.

“Oh I wonder if it’s my shirt for the concert!” You rush over to him and snatch it. “I got a shirt from Etsy cause I don’t really like the merch.”

Harry smiles as you open the package and you gasp with delight. You got a black short sleeve crop top that said “Blinding Lights” on it it glittery writing.

“It’s perfect! Do you like it?”

“Yeah, looks nice.” He kisses your cheek and goes to sit on the sofa with Buster.

“I’m so excited, Harry. I still can’t believe you got fifth row seats!” You plop down next to him.

“Was thinkin’ we could go in and eat at Beer Works beforehand, would you like that?”

“Yeah! Love it there. Only a couple more days!” You squeal. “Do you feel like you know enough of the lyrics?”

“Yeah, babe. Think I got it.” He smiles.

“I wonder what songs he’ll do from his older albums. I hope he does Party After the After Party, that’s one of my absolute favorites.”

“I know, that’s your go to when we’re fuckin’.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him and giggle. “I like Aquainted too, and I Feel It Coming. Honestly, every song by him is a good song.”

“And you’ve really never seen him live before?”

“Never! This is the best early birthday present ever.”

“Does your family have anythin’ planned for you. I know we’re gonna be gone for a long weekend during your actual birthday…”

“No, I think our plan is to do a conjoined thing. Michael’s birthday is the weekend after mine, and my dad’s is the weekend after that. Michael’s gonna be one I can’t believe it. So we’ll just go to his birthday party. My family will call me on my birthday.”

“That’s right, I forgot about Michael’s party. Damn, this summer is just flyin’ by.”

“I know! We leave for London soon too, it’s crazy.”

“Are you sure your mum is cool with having Buster for an entire week?”

“Yeah, she loves watching him. I’m gonna miss him so much.” You pout.

“I know, he’s just too big to bring on a plane, unfortunately.”

You grab the remote and turn the TV on.

“Do you mind if I watch Glee? I feel like once I start I can’t stop.”

“Yeah, I don’t care.”

“You like it a little, don’t you?” You look at him grinning.

“It has some funny moments. Jane Lynch’s character is hilarious. It’s a little cringey though.”

“That’s Ryan Murphy for you.” You shrug.

“Plus…I’m fully invested in this will they won’t they with Rachel and Finn. I’m hooked on it.”

“God, I don’t think you’ve ever said anything sexier to me.” You kiss him and get snuggled up.

The night of the concert you make sure your hair looks perfect. You had really grown it out, and your waves looked great. You put your new crop top on and get to work on your makeup. Tonight was a false lash kind of night. You grab a high waisted pair of black jeans with some rips in them and put them on. You could just see the top of your naval piercing. You cuff the bottoms of your jeans and you’re very happy with how you look.

Harry had a pair of salmon pink shorts on and a black silk shirt with the first few buttons undone tucked into them. You liked that you and Harry had different fashion senses. You also loved when he wore anything to show off his tattoos a bit.

“You look so good, Harry.” You wrap your arms around him.

“So do you.” He kisses the top of your head. “Niall will be here soon to watch Buster, he just texted.”

Niall comes up with Sarah.

“Damn! Okay, out on the balcony, gotta take some cute pics before you get all sweaty at the concert.” Sarah says and you giggle.

She takes some pictures of the two of you outside. You take some nice ones and some silly ones. You kiss him on the cheek in one.

“Kiss each other, go on.”

Harry chuckles and turns to you. He tilts your chin up and kisses you.

“So cute.”

“Thanks, Sarah.” You take your phone from her.

“I’m so glad you finally got a new phone, the camera is so much better.”

“I know! I was just waiting for a good deal to upgrade.”

“You two kids have fun.” Niall smiles. “Do you want us here? I don’t mind bringin’ him across the street.”

“It’s up to you.” Harry says. “You guys can stay here if yeh want, doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, make yourselves at home.” You smile and give Buster a hug. “Thanks again for watching him.”

You and Harry head out. You decide to take the green line over towards the Garden. You walk over to Beer Works which isn’t too far away, and sit at the bar. You each do a tequila shooter and order some apps. Harry sticks with beer, and you get a hard cider.

You walk hand in hand, slightly buzzed, into the Garden. Your tickets get scanned in and you make your way to your seats.

“Harry…holy shit, look at how close we are.”

“Want me to take your picture in front of the stage?”

“Please!”

You beam at him and hand him your phone. Someone offers to take a picture of the two of you in front of the stage as well.

“We’re really going to be able to see him, oh my god.” You hug him and he chuckles.

“Want me to grab us some drinks?”

“Yeah, that would be great actually. Do you want some money, I brought-“ He looks at you.

“I’ll be back with some beers.”

You watch Harry walk away, and look back to the stage. You can’t help but squeal with excitement. Harry comes back about ten minutes later with two large beers.

“Line was already crazy.” He hands you yours.

“Thanks, babe.” You sip on it and he sits down next to you.

You both were taking advantage of the little time left you wouldn’t be on your feet. You were happy you both were smart enough to at least wear sneakers.

You and Harry go for bathroom and beer runs during the two opening acts, not really interested in their music as much. You get back in your seats just when the second opener is done. The Garden goes dark and you squeal. You both stand up and you scream along with the crowd when he comes out.

He starts off with Alone Again, and works his way through most of the After Hours album. The crowd goes nuts when he goes into Starboy. You were having a great time. You ended up standing in front of Harry so you could rock against him. You would occasionally here him sing along and it sent a shiver up your spine. You got some great pictures and videos of The Weeknd, you swore he looked right at you. He sings I Feel It Coming, and Harry wraps his arms around you tighter. Another song you two had on in the background many times. Next he goes into Earned It, Often, and Acquainted. You were losing your fucking mind. He sounded so good loud, and you were having the best time just jamming out.

“So I thought I’d talk to the crowd for a minute, we’re at that point in the show.”

The crowd roars as he addresses certain people. He calls different people out, it’s a lot of fun. He has thre lights up in the balcony so he can thank the people from farther away. He walks along the stage, calling out people closer to him. Then his eyes fall to you.

“This girl, who’s been dancing on her man all night, where’d you get that shirt?” You freeze and point to yourself. “Yes, you. That’s not official merch.” He scolds you and you laugh.

“It’s from Etsy! Get better merch!”

“Get better merch, huh?” The crowd laughs. “Well, I’m glad someone made some money, guess that’s all that matters. You having a good time?” You smile and nod your head yes. “I know you are, you’ve been grooving the whole night, we love to see it.”

He moves on to someone else and you turn to look at at Harry, your mouth agape.

“I filmed that whole thing! Look!” Harry shows you his phone.

“That was the coolest fucking thing ever!”

He does his Dirty Diana cover, and then goes into Party After the After Party. You turn around to Harry and squeal, then you turn around to watch the stage again. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at your excitement. You had been a ball of energy all night. The show ends, and he comes back out to sing The Hills.

You and Harry wait a minute or two to head out, letting the crowd disperse before fighting your way through it. You walk through the Garden, keeping your hand on the back of Harry’s shorts while he leads you through the people. You get down to the green line, and only find one seat available. He sits down and pulls you into his lap. You turn to look at him and smile.

“This was one of the greatest nights of my life. Thank you so much.”

“I’m so glad you had fun. That was one of the best concerts I’ve been to in a long time.”

“I can’t believe he actually spoke to me! That was so cool.”

Harry moves to whisper in your ear.

“I can’t wait to get you home. You were grinding your ass on me all night, it was torture.” He kisses your cheek and holds you a little tighter. You smile at him and kiss him quick.

Sarah was passed out, leaning on Niall’s shoulder. The two thought Buster would be more comfortable in his own home. They were watching TV when she fell asleep. Niall was half asleep when he heard the shuffle of feet and giggling from the front hall.

“Babe, I think they’re back.” He lightly nudges her.

“Hm? Okay.” She yawns.

Harry gets you through the door, and lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around him. He pushes you up against the wall and kisses on your neck. You start giggling. Your hands move to unbutton Harry’s shirt. You push it off his shoulders and he lets it fall to the floor. He takes your crop top off and kisses on your chest. You had a simple black bra on.

“Bedroom.” You groan into his ear.

He gets a better grip on you and starts walking into the rest of the apartment.

“Oh my god!” Sarah says.

Harry sets you down and hugs you to his chest. You hide your face in him. He needed you to stay close to hide his raging boner.

“You two are still here?” He says embarrassed.

“Yeah, we were gonna stay until you got home! Are you both drunk?!” You turn your head slightly to look at them and nod.

“Jesus.” Niall laughs. “Glad yeh didn’t get full naked out there.”

“Okay, well, thank you both so much for watchin’ Buster, goodnight.”

“Wait, how was the concert?”

“It was good Sarah, goodnight!” You say to her.

“Alright, alright, we’re leaving.”

Niall gives harry a thumbs up before they leave.

“They act like they never get a chance to do it.” Sarah laughs and looks at Niall. “How come we never do that?”

“Do what?”

“You never feel the need to get my clothes off the second we walk in the door.”

“Oh, you mean like this?”

Niall lifts Sarah up over his shoulder the second they get into his apartment and she squeals.

“I completely forgot they’d be here.” Harry says laughing.

“Me too!” You look at each other for a second. “Are gonna stand here or?”

“Oh right.”

He lifts you back up and carries you to the bedroom. Buster stays asleep in his dog bed. Harry undoes your jeans and yanks them down your legs. You do the same with his shorts. His lips connect with yours and you moan against him as he pushes his hips to yours. He really was hard.

You suck his bottom lip into your mouth and he groans. His hands dip into your panties and he drags them down your legs. He stays kneeling before you and grabs you by your ass, pulling you closer. He tugs one of your legs over one of his shoulders and he lips connect to your clit. You gasp when you feel his tongue lick up and down your folds. You tugs at his hair and he moans against you. He sucks and slurps on you and you feel like you’re going to lose your balance, but he steadies you. Just like when you feel you’re gonna come he stands up.

“Sorry.” He smirks. “My knees just hurt.”

“Thought you were trying to tease me.” You pout.

“Not tonight, angel.”

His hands move around you to unclasp your bra and it falls to the floor. He moves you over to the bed and he hovers over you. He kisses down your neck and chest, and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. You reach for him and pump him slowly. He twists your piercing between his teeth while he kneads your other breast.

“Harry.” You groan. “Want you inside me, please.”

“Want you on top.”

He kisses you and sits up against the headboard. You swing a leg over him and line yourself up to sink down on him.

“Fuck.” You breathe out.

You swivel your hips and grind against him. Harry wraps his arms around you and thrusts up. You move in a rhythm together and it feels amazing. You tug at his hair and kiss him, tongues gliding along each other. Your head rolls back when he starts to rub your clit. His other hand slides up to your throat. You make eye-contact with him.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, go for it.” You smile, and he tightens his grip around you.

He moves his other hand faster on you as both continue in sync. You start panting, and love the way Harry’s large hand grips your throat. Harry looks at you, loving the way you’re just losing yourself.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last much longer.” He grunts.

You feel your stomach tighten and you clench around him.

“Fuck!” He moans as you both release at the same time. He thrusts up hard one more time as you gasp.

He loosens his grip on you, and you rest your head against his chest.

“You forgot to take your rings off.” You say, looking up at him.

“Oh, baby.” He smirks and moves some hair out of your face. “I didn’t forget.” He lightly grazes his fingers over the forming bruises on your neck. “I like the way you can kind make out my initials on you.” You involuntarily tighten around him. “And I see you don’t really mind it either.”

“I feel like I should…but I’ve always liked when you leave marks on me.” You smile. “It’ll fade, it’s fine.”

He kisses you, and you both sit there making out while he’s still inside you. You roll down on him and his cock twitches. His hands move to your hips and he rocks you back and forth on him.

“Harry, will you fuck me from behind?” You say against his lips.

“Always.” He smiles.

You giggle and get off of him to lay on your stomach. He grabs ahold of you to slide in, he gets fully on top of you how you like so his chest is flush with your back. You moan as he rocks in and out of you.

“God, you’re like balls deep, it feel so good.” You grab at the pillow under you.

Harry hooks an arm under you to grab one of your breasts, his other hand pressing into your hip. You press your ass against him as he moves around in a circle.

“Fuck, Harry.”

“Yeh like when we fuck like this?” He says into your ear.

“Yes.”

“M’not crushin’ yeh?”

“Not at all.” You moan again when he thrusts deep into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna come again, oh god, right there, keep doing that.”

Harry keeps thrusting in and hitting your g-spot. You scream into your pillow and back your ass up right into him. His release comes shortly after. He lays on top of you for a few minutes before getting up. You get up to use the bathroom after he does.

You face each other as you lay in bed. Harry rubs your back and smiles at you.

“This was the perfect night, Harry.”

“Even when we almost got naked in front of our friends?”

“Especially when that happened.” You giggle. “No, but seriously. I love making these memories with you. I’ll never forget this.”

He pulls you in closer to him and rests his chin on the top of your head. You end up falling asleep like this. Ten months ago you never thought you’d be where you are right now. Being held by the person you loved most in the world, and him loving you right back.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #yeah its a shorter part #but at least we got to the concert!

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cosplayinamerica · 4 years ago

Photo

ARTIST ALLEY : BurntGreenTea

Here at Cosplay in America, I am expanding who I interview to those in the convention scene. Today we will talk to BurntGreenTea who I met in artist alley at Ikkicon, an anime convention in Austin, TX. BurntGreenTea is from Northern California and as stated on his Deviant Art “Hey, my name is Nelson! I like to draw waifus”

EJEN : My first question is why BurntGreenTea?

BURNTGREENTEA: That’s actually my second handle I came up with, I had an embarrassing name before so I wanted to change into something more ironic and more “me” in a name. so I’ve been going as BurntGreenTea ever since. I do drink matcha alot!

EJEN: Tell us how you got started in artist alley, what was your first one and what was that experience like?

BURNTGREENTEA: I started getting interested in doing artist alley at my first Fanime Con back in 2007 as a one day attendee when I was still in high school.

I went with my best friend at the time and it blew my expectations of what a convention was, especially the artist alley since it completely opened my mind that there’s artists actually selling fan art. But I didn’t commit to it until 2012, just when I was in my 2nd year of college.

By that time, I had enough digital art and felt confident that I could do it. Fanime still had the application process of first come first serve (meaning those who apply the earliest will get a spot), so I was fortunate enough to apply fast enough to get a table!

For a first time experience it was nerve-wracking before, during and after the con. But there was something to it that really sparked my interest; and I think there were people that legitimately liked my work and bought them.

EJEN: Was there a point that you went “yeah, this could work” and you made the jump to traveling out of state for artist alley?

BURNTGREENTEA: It was about one and half years after I graduated from college, between that time I worked in a job that was soul sucking but I had many of my colleagues working at, and then after I was applying to animation studios, gaming companies, etc while I was doing commissions and artist alleys at the same time.

It went on like this for almost a year. By this point I felt like I really hit my lowest and felt a great shame that I couldn’t find “stable” work. My parents didn’t really support me doing artist alley during this time since it’s not legit work and it’s more like a fun hobby I can do on the side, all the while I have colleagues and friends who have jobs in the animation or gaming industries. I felt extremely lost, and wasn’t sure the direction I wanted to go in life, so my parents encouraged me to go back to school to get a “safe” degree or trade.

But there was something I knew in the back of my mind that I couldn’t see until I had a meet up with an old friend. She was confident, happy, found her dream job that paid well and she enjoyed the work, and she was completely honest and blunt. When the topic came up of me being lost in life, she asked me, “what did you want to do then?” and I told her honestly, “I really just want to do artist alley and make that work.” “Then just do it.” So I did.

EJEN: After all the time you spent in artist alley, what’s the most important factor that an artist must understand to do decently in sales

BURNTGREENTEA: Research research research. It’s basically “knowledge is power” but breaking down as knowing your audience, yourself (what you enjoy, your strengths and capabilities) and learning new trades while breaking old habits.

EJEN: Can you go more in detail about research, research, research?

BURNTGREENTEA: So this reflects back on my previous answer, so know the convention you’re going into, what you can offer, what’s your budget, everything that would make your experience at the convention you’re getting into a great experience.

I have heard many stories of artists not breaking even and even I had bad experiences due to inaccurate/outdated information or inexperience. For example, there was a first year event that had a $1000 table price tag and promised to bring in 5000 attendees.

This was going to be my second event/convention to table at, so I had no idea what it was going to be like and decided to go for it. It ended up having less than 100 attendees, and I lost a significant amount of money. So now I have to get as much info as I can get to make the convention viable to go to.

EJEN: How do you describe your style and how has it changed if any over the 14 years you’ve done art? What were some of your earlier influences.

BURNTGREENTEA: Right now I can say it’s pretty much anime style, but I can say there were several phases I went through. Looking through my Deviantart gives a great timeline all the way back to middle school until recently.

When I initially started I was getting into anime thanks to friends, so I was very much influenced by Naruto, Full Metal Alchemist, and Gurren Lagann. Then in high school I started to do more digital art, eventually creating artwork bigger and grander just like the artists from Fanime I admired.

When I finally started my education in my art program in college, I started getting the proper training in lighting, form, and composition. This time period my pieces were more western-influenced, like more realistic faces and body proportions, but there was something missing in it that I wouldn’t understand until after I graduated. It’s around the same time when I wanted to do artist alleys full time that I was more true to myself in the style and got more flashy, more colorful and composition.

EJEN : How do you decide what Alley to apply for. What’s your personal criteria for conventions to do artist alley at?

BURNTGREENTEA: Local cons are usually easy for me to decide to apply for due to the cost being low(transportation, housing, etc). If there’s anything that involves flying out of state, I have to factor in much more information about the con, personal experiences from other artists, and if it is viable for an anime fan artist to break even and also turn a profit. Usually big conventions like Anime Expo and Otakon are the must go to conventions for their huge attendance numbers.

EJEN: Describe to me a typical day in the Alley!

BURNTGREENTEA: Due to the times right now, it seems like almost a dream to be in an artist alley, haha. Here’s a usual day of being in the Alley: Waking up early to get ready, getting breakfast and caffeine before heading inside a convention.

Usually getting there early, either me or some art friends would walk around the Alley and check out other artists before it’s open to the public. There would be some art friends I made along the way that I can catch up with briefly, chatting about the next shows or projects. I would have probably stayed up kinda late working on physical commissions and would need to go back to my table to continue finishing them up.

When the Alley opens up, it’s mostly engaging and talking with familiar customers or friends, while also working on commissions during the down times. Friends would go on food or snack runs, and I would get an hour to go shopping during the day somewhere as a break.

By the time it ends, it would have felt like it had gone in a flash. But with heavy eyes but our hearts full with a day accomplished. If we had the strength, we would check out an event or explore the convention hall abit more to absorb the atmosphere. Getting dinner with friends after a job well done, while we have another day to look forward to spending time with fans alike.

It’s really nostalgic to reflect on a typical day to be in the Alley, and having to have that all stop for almost a year now.

EJEN: Since the pandemic, how are you coping with this change both personally and business-wise?

BURNTGREENTEA: I was honestly hoping conventions would come back around at the end of May, but that never happened so I had to approach things differently. Luckily I had a freelance gig that I was working part time, so I had a semi-regular income on the side while I applied for virtual conventions and commissions.

It was tough since I wanted 2020 to be the year I would do the most conventions ever but that plan derailed. I also focused on my online shop and my social media presence, which so far is paying off!

Like everyone this year took a mental and physical toll, but I also ended up working on more projects and digital work to help keep me distracted.

EJEN: What are your plans for the future, what are you working on?

BURNTGREENTEA: My goal is still to go back to doing conventions, but at the moment I’m going to give that a pause. Currently I have a contract job that’s ending soon, and I have something that’s NDA that might come up, crossing my fingers! That’s the near future, but for the time being I want to refocus on learning new things and refining my art since I’ve gotten rusty.

EJEN: Finally who is your waifu?

BURNTGREENTEA: My waifu is Lucina from Fire Emblem!

Visit BurntGreenTea’s Etsy!

#artist alley #artist alley interview

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ghostbassist · 4 years ago

Note

Alex and sister!reader where he finds out that she died a few months after them and she's been a ghost for 25 years? If he finds her with Willie that would be great! Just a fluffy reunion!

Long Ghost Sister

Masterlist

Requests

Etsy Shop

Add yourself to my taglist

Pairing: Alex x Sister! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of an accident.

Summary: You died not long after your brother, but what happens when you meet through a mutual friend 25 years later.

A/N: In this universe, Celeb doesn’t exist. Also this does describe how the female reader died, please note that before reading. Much Love 🌻

It had been three months since Alex died, along with the other two people in your life that you called brothers. Dead by hotdogs, that was a great story that you got to tell.

You were there that night, you were supposed to go get food with the boys, but you were stubborn and didn’t eat hotdogs. You thought back to that night more often then you really should. The night you could have died as well.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Kara said pulling you from your thoughts. Shaking your head, she sighs before repeating herself. “I said, are you sure that you’re going to be okay driving in the rain? It’s supposed to be getting really bad tonight.”

“Kar, I’ll be fine. I’ve driven in the rain before.” She had always been kind of paranoid. It reminded you of Alex a lot, he hated you driving in the rain too.

“Fine but if anything happens, or your car stops, call me or Warren. Love you” She says before opening the door and running up to her house. Pulling away from her house, you wish you had taken her offer to stay at her house that night.

The rain was pouring onto the roads, you shouldn’t have taken that turn as quick as you did. The car slid into the rails of the bridge, flipping over it. The last thing you heard was ‘Runaway’ playing, then everything went black.

You woke a month later, at my funeral. Staring at your own body is kind of surreal. Now here you am, 25 years later. you’ve been wondering around LA since you’ve woken up.

Only, now you’re not alone. You met this boy, Willie, about 2 years ago and you’ve kept each other company.

Walking down Sunset Boulevard is something you do almost everyday since there isn't much more things to do. Today was supposed to be like every other day, but someone made it a lot more interesting.

Turning around, you saw a boy skating towards you, slipping through humans before hitting you knocking the both of you to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you were one of the lifers” He says offering his hand to help you up.

“It’s okay, I did too till you went through one of them. I haven’t met another ghost yet.” You say whipping the dust off your legs.

“Well, I’m Willie.” He says extending his arm out for you to shake.

“I’m Y/N.”

You and Willie had been together since that day. It was nice to have company, you and Willie skated around and played tricks on people all day. He was like another brother, granted you still missed yours, but he helped you get through it.

Willie and you had found a old art gallery years ago, since then, the two of you had made it your little home. Every once in a while, he would bring you little things he found on his adventures that he though you would like.

“Hey sis, I brought someone back with me." Willie yells as he walks into the gallery. You can make out the faint voice of another male, followed by Willie responding. “No, she’s not actually my sister, but she’s the closest thing i got to it.”

Walking down to the main floor, you were happy to see another ghost. Just as you were going to introduce yourself, you stopped dead in your tracks. Standing in front of you was the person you missed the most.

“Alex?”

Taglist: @peachyxdream @lavenderthrills @noncannonships @bakubitchie27 @whyworry27 @dpaccione @lolychu @marinettepotterandplagg @avs-hart @losertron5000 @pinkflowercassy @owenandthefantoms @camihoran00 @morganayennefertyrell @camihoran00 @twist3dtinkerbell @kaitieskidmore1 @thexhotmess @brithedemonspawn @savinoursanity @butterflycloss @caitsymichelle13

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lilithsmom · 3 years ago

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Plants!

Besides my cat and the occasional adventure my plants are one of the few things that seem to bring any joy these days. I’m not a really intense plant person who has over 100, is always trying weird propagations, uses leca, or even wants crazy difficult plants. I have maybe 50 and I’m very happy with that amount. I love the plants I have. I don’t have a wishlist currently. But what I love to do is talk about my plants. If you come over to my apartment all I want to do is show them off and tell you about them. So that’s what I’m going to do here. I realize I have quite a few plants within the same family so I’ll do a little series showing off the plants of each category.

First up is my favorite group, Peperomia.

This is Jordan. He’s a Peperomia Obtusifolia, also known as Baby Rubberplant. I frequently refer to him as my shining star, my pride & joy, and my favorite. He’s one of the first plants I got. I got him at the Mile High Flea Market’s plant vendor. After buying I split him up into two plants, Jordan and Pippen. Jordan stayed in the apartment on the kitchen table with a western facing window. Pippen came to the office with me. With Covid closing the office I brought Pippen home and the growth difference between the two plants was insane. When I finally started naming my plants these two are my tall guys so I wanted a name that would suit that, Michael Jordan and Scotty Pippen. Jordan has been the plant is always growing. There’s always a new leaf coming in and it’s really helped me when I’ve felt like I was a bad plant parent. This year however is the first year he’s flowered. Those green thin stalks at the top those are the flowers for peperomia. I’m so glad he’s so happy that he’s flowering (truly all of the plants are so happy in this new apartment). He’s also the only plant I have that is in a pot with no drainage holes. When I finally got a diamond drill bit I repotted and added holes to so many pots but I decided against doing that to Jordan because he’s doing so well and I don’t want to disturb him. That’s still the case and until I see him not doing so well I will take him out and add holes. I am extra careful of his watering though because of this. But whatever it is I am doing it is working and I adore Jordan so much.

This is Pippen. I’ve given his back story with Jordan’s since they are twins. Pippen did okay in the office but once I brought him home he’s grown so much in the last year. I have to get him a trellis like Jordan now that he’s gotten so tall. I currently have him attached to a chopstick that’s taped to the plant bench just so he stays up. Peperomia are generally trailing plants in the wild so these guys want to fall over but I am too in love with their height as they grow. They don’t have aerial roots like philodendron or monstera so when I put them on a trellis I have to keep them tied up. I recently repotted him since he was in a pot that was feeling way too small for his height. Peperomia have tiny root systems so he wasn’t root bound but his base couldn’t support his height. Pippen hasn’t gotten the flowering memo like Jordan but he’s still a gorgeous boy.

This is Lindsey. Named afternoon Lohan because she too is a hot mess. I got Lindsey from a random Lowe’s one night when I just wanted a new plant and wasn’t aware of the great local plant stores in Denver yet. She wasn’t doing well and I knew that but I had hope for her since she’s also a Peperomia Obtusifolia, but the variegated variety. For the longest time she wasn’t growing but she also wasn’t losing leaves so I didn’t give up on her. Finally one day I saw new growth coming in and now she has so many new leaves. She’s dropped some older leaves which was expected now that there’s new growth. She’s still very short compared to Jordan and Pippen but that’s fine, she’s on her own journey.

This is Cheese. He is also a variegated Peperomia Obtusifolia. I got him from IKEA. I didn’t want a plant, I didn’t want to support big box stores plant sales, but look at that adorable variegation. I hadn’t seen anything like it before and he was $3. Cheese got the memo with Jordan about flowering which is great since I’ve only had him maybe two months so I’m glad he’s happy. Can’t wait to watch him grow.

This is Darcey. Named after D’Arcy Carden from The Good Place. She is a Peperomia Caperata Silver (Frost). I got her from RitualCravt. She’s a different kind of Peperomia than the rest where she’s more tropical and requires more frequent watering. I accidentally did some damage to her roots while repotting her a while back and she lost a lot of leaves. I decided to put her in water for awhile to let the roots grow and in the water she flowered for the first time. It was incredible to see and now that she’s back in soil she’s flowering again. She’s in the pot I made out of clay to sit in the skull ashtray Jesse’s mom gave me for Christmas.

Last but certainly not least, its Peach! She’s a Peperomia Incana. She’s the most “rare” plant I have. I never heard of Incanas until I was watching a plant Youtuber’s video about uncommon plants they love or something like that and immediately fell in love. I have never seen one in stores so I ordered her off Etsy. They’re just like Obtusifolia but they have fuzzy leaves (hence naming her Peach). They are the more succulent variety of Peperomia so I made sure to put her in well draining soil and I give her plenty of light, which she loves and has grown quite a bit since I got her in March. I love her shape so much, the two branches growing in almost opposite directions, so gorgeous. I’m truly obsessed with her.

That’s it for my Peperomias! I do want to grow my collection of them so maybe in the future you’ll see more but for now that’s it.

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haridraws · 5 years ago

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Hi, etsy anon here! I agree that Amazon can be very shady, though I have found them the most convenient for a lot of things, especially buying indie books. Etsy has about an $11 shipping fee to the US I think, which is less convenient for me. Do you mind if I ask if you get a larger cut of the sales from Etsy than Amazon? I’d be more inclined to buy from Etsy in that case—gotta support the creators! Thanks so much for your response!

Thanks for clarifying - honestly these are really good questions and thanks for being so nice about it!

Shipping is actually something a LOT of people often ask about - I’m also in online groups with artists in various fields who encounter a lot of similar questions, so I want to take this chance to explain the best I can how my system works, why I use Etsy atm, and answer some FAQs!

** Some indie artist shipping FAQs! **

I’m an artist based in the UK who sells their products online. These are some FAQs I get about shipping - this is just what’s true for my business personally, but I know lots of other indie artists who operate on a similar model!

(International indie artist)’s shipping seems really expensive! Why can’t it be free?

imo one reason indie artists’ shipping comes across as expensive may be because US customers can sometimes be used to buying from companies who ship domestically from inside the US. Some big companies also sometimes take a hit to profits to offer ‘free’ shipping - so they stay competitive, but lose some money. (Shipping always costs the company money! As far as I can tell, Amazon actually loses money on shipping, even with arguably very unethical practises, and USPS loses money on its operations in general)

For indie artists, especially if they’re using ethical suppliers, profit margins are usually much smaller since they can’t print in real bulk (1,000 or 10,000 units+) or with special agreed deals. That means that for a lot of international artists, that ‘free’ shipping model just isn’t possible at all - this is partly why Etsy punishing artists for not offering free US shipping in the search rankings is a big problem!

For me, offering 100% free US shipping would mean I’d lose so much money I’d just have to stop my art business completely - or else, raise all prices by £5-10 so every single person buying multiple items or from my home country would be way, way overpaying. And I don’t want anyone to be overpaying! I want to be transparent about costs as much as possible, which includes postage and packaging, even when it’s expensive.

I’ve heard bad things about Etsy recently - is me shopping there hurting artists?

SO to answer your question - for me personally, for books I sell myself (ie not with a publisher) Amazon takes a larger cut of the money than Etsy, even though both are just posted out by me (and my friend who I hire as an assistant bc of my disability) in exactly the same way. This is true even after Etsy’s fee increases and new advertising policy. At the moment, despite its issues, personally for me Etsy is still the best platform for various reasons (including eg. admin and messaging systems that make it hard to get an address wrong, are compatible with a system for customs codes, and make it easy to track down and resolve any issues, which is especially a big deal with my disabilities).

Not buying from Etsy if that’s the artist’s main or only store just means the artist will miss out on money they may really need to pay the bills - Etsy itself is a huge platform with varied users, and almost definitely won’t notice the difference.

In general, it’s probably best to buy from artists on whatever platforms they advertise themselves, or ask them which is best for them! And if you’re worried about Etsy’s new advertising fees (which I really don’t agree with, but that’s another post) affecting artists, you can avoid these by always going to the artists’ shop from a bookmark, or links they have from their website or social media. Clicking on ads you see elsewhere is the thing that will cut down on the artist’s profits (and you’ll need to shop from a private browser if you’ve clicked on their shop from any ads in the last 30 days).

Why are Etsy shipping fees so much?

Etsy’s shipping fees are something the artists sets themself. I (and most people) set it to match the amount I personally have to pay to pack and ship the order. It costs $10+ to send a 500g-ish package overseas with my country’s standard (non-tracked) international mail service, or $18 for a 1kg+ package, which is about the weight of books 1&2 of Finding Home. That’s not even including fees, packaging and label supplies - which make costs a fair bit higher for me - or the time taken to do it.

I know it can be a lot of money, but it is just really expensive to ship packages thousands of miles! In fact, for books I actually subsidise the packing costs myself, and lose out on profits a little to keep it as low as possible for customers.

Are you sure it’s not a mistake…?

Probably not! For my own shop, if your shipping costs seem REALLY high for non tracked orders (USD 30+) it’s worth sending me a message just in case there’s been an error. This CAN happen occasionally because of the way the adding-extra-items system works - usually if you buy a lot of (usually 4+) small items, it can end up overcharging a little, which I can definitely fix for you!

tl;dr -

Unfortunately almost always, the shipping costs in my Etsy shop are just how much I personally have to pay to get the book out of my house over the ocean to you. I don’t make money on it - if anything I lose money - and that’s true of most small artists shops. They’re probably making it as cheap as they can, because cheaper for customers is better for business!

I do know costs can be prohibitive (and I do have PDF versions of most of my books here!) but unfortunately it just costs a lot to get physical products to people far away, and there’s not anything I can do about it.

#I'm actually gonna tag this and post it somewhere #FAQ #i know this is way more than anon asked but over the years i have had many questions so hopefully some of this helps someone!!#asks

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latefrequencies · 4 years ago

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ok so

my computer was not broken after all, i was just leaving it running for days on end like any normal person would do but apparently that’s Not Okay and makes it not work properly but it was just forcibly put to sleep and then reawakened so it works now

izzy isn’t going to kick us out or anything, not that i really thought they would but i was scared bc i’ve heard Bad Stories (sometimes from people i know personally) of roommates/people they live with being awful like that when people so much as hint at job insecurity

Dylan’s great plan to exploit Amazon is as follows: Dylan was offered a job w/Amazon back in the summer when Dylan was looking for work, for reasons I don’t know abt but that aren’t particularly important, Amazon was unable to have Dylan go to the actual workplace for some time but was going to pay Dylan regardless as soon as Dylan started the job, and when Dylan got the other job, Amazon still thought Dylan was employed there and Dylan’s going to actually show up next month but in the meantime they’re giving Dylan the amount of money they would have paid Dylan, which is about $2,000 so as long as Dylan shows up for a little while (during which time Dylan’s going to be conducting a job search for smth else), Dylan gets paid for doing literally nothing for several months

my friend Tama released an album recently and it slaps

i recently lowered the shipping price on my Etsy things and business has been uhh booming like it literally never has before so that’s exciting

things are unambiguously looking up for the first time in a while

#this has been a self related post

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margridarnauds · 4 years ago

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XCalibur: My Review

So, it’s been a couple of weeks since XCalibur came out and, while I’m trying to sort out my own thoughts about this, I decided to do what I do best: Force everyone to read an overly long, barely coherent post.

First off: Let’s get this off the ground. The fact that we got to see this at ALL was phenomenal. This is really, really fantastic, as a step for KMusicals getting a wider western audience, and it’s something that I DESPERATELY hope that they will continue to repeat in the future. I’d have supported it if it was anything, simply because that would give a clear message that there IS an audience for this.

However...

[warning for spoilers, brief discussions of rape]

Overall Impressions: Look....it’s WILDHORN. Wildhorn and me....we go way, way back. Like, to 12 Year Old Rachel listening to Jekyll and Hyde. And the Scarlet Pimpernel. And....quite a few musicals after that. I CAN’T hate it. It’s WILDHORN + ARTHURIANA. Two of my favorite things in the world. But, that being said....this might very well be my fault, but I did find myself a little disappointed, in the sense that, listening to the cast album, I was expecting a much, much better musical than what I really got. Which was a huge order to fill, given that I’ve always considered Artus: Excalibur to be one of Wildhorn’s more problematic musicals. But, in all fairness, they DID kind of promise me more, given that they retitled the musical and said that this was the “World Premiere”™. The set is fantastic, the music is stunning, but it just felt a little hollow to me.

Sets/Costuming: I LOVED the Dark Ages aesthetic to it. The costumes really were great, Morgana’s in particular stole the show, but Guinevere, Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot gets some nice looks as well, and it all serves to give this idea of the Middle Ages (albeit HEAVILY preying on the old stereotype that it was The Dark Ages, with a very dark color palette generally being observable throughout). This also serves to make it visually very distinct from the Korean production of La Legende du Roi Arthur, given the two of them showed VERY close to one another. (2019 was just the year of the Arthurian musical.) As a Celticist....it isn’t REALLY historically accurate, it’s still fantasy, albeit more Guy Ritchie’s Arthur VS The Crystal Cave Trilogy in terms of how MUCH fantasy it utilizes. LRA (and Artus: Excalibur) took the approach of it being PURELY fantasy, there is....nothing. Historical. In there. One thing that irked me about Artus was that it, in particular, had a CHEAP feeling, like it had roughly as much thought put into it as a 80s comic book idea of Camelot that they were going to slap on the back of a cereal box or something. (LRA, to its credit, was GLORIOUSLY anachronistic, but it was high budget and sleek. I loved it for that.) XCalibur is TRYING for a more historical feel, and, for the most part, it does succeed. Whether the set is a forest, a deserted hall, or Camelot in its prime, they SELL the medievalism. It’s a bit of a pity there’s no WELSHNESS to it, but that is me being nitpicky about my field not being in there. For an Arthurian adaptation, I’m not really going to ask for anything more; it gives what it promises and it does it well. (Though I will say that, every once in a while, one of those costumes would flash in the stage lighting and I would question whether I’d seen that gold fabric at a Ren Faire etsy. BUT in all fairness, those costumes weren’t designed to be viewed in close up like that, and this is probably me being needlessly mean. OVERALL, the effect was good.)

Music: It’s a Frank Wildhorn musical, so of COURSE I’m going to like the music. This is DEFINITELY a stronger musical than Artus, with several new songs (including “The Tempest”, “Let the Sword Make the Man”, and “If he were standing here”, both of which are highlights to me) that really stand out. Since settling himself firmly in the Asian market, Wildhorn’s stuff has developed a polish that wasn’t really there in his Broadway stuff. It sounds much more modern, much more streamlined, with Death Note, the Man Who Laughs, Robespierre, and Mata Hari all having a distinct SOUND that I’ve started to call Wildhorn 2.0. There’s this distinct energy that runs through this production that wasn’t really there in Artus, and I found that it makes the cast album REALLY a treat to listen to. As with Artus, “Celtic” (which, in this case, of course, means “Riverdance”) musical motifs are present in the instrumentals, but I found it MUCH less heavy handed than before, and it’s evenly balanced out by more traditional tunes. I didn’t feel like it was AS overloaded as before, where I routinely found myself napping in between swelling instrumentals.

As with all of Wildhorn’s stuff, there are certain songs that sound very similar to other musicals of his, if you know what to look for. “Why am I here?” for example is nearly a carbon copy of “Who do you Trust?” from Tears of Heaven and “Wenn das Shicksal dich ereilt” from Rudolf, which themselves form part of a distinct genre of his songs that can be traced back to “The Riddle” from The Scarlet Pimpernel and “You and I” from Svengali. “The Mark of the Wolf”, a new song, sounds very similar at points to “How Many devils?” from The Civil War. Etc. etc. I don't really consider this a BAD part, at least in the case of the former, since the songs in that genre, to me, represent the best of Wildhorn’s music. And, after all, with over 30 years on stage....the man can only come up with new music for so long until he starts producing SOMETHING that sounds similar.

Overall verdict? Strong music. Not my FAVORITE of Wildhorn’s stuff, but I’ve definitely spent a few hours listening to the cast album on its own merits, and definitely more energetic and polished than the German run to my ear.

Plot: So, a big draw for me was “Has the plot been fixed from the days of Artus: Excalibur?” and.....I have many mixed feelings. I DO feel like we got more of a solid musical, but I also feel like it had some really, really sour notes and, in some ways, the transition to a new musical feels only half-way done. Like, they HAD a new musical in mind, they went halfway through the process, and then they shrugged their shoulders, said “That’s good enough”, and left us with a Frankenstein’s Monster. (Oh, wait, wrong KMusical.)

One of the biggest casualties was Morgana. Morgan le Fay has been one of my favorite characters in anything, ever since I was 7 years old and developing one of my first crushes via The Magic Treehouse. Morgana is always the FIRST one I look to in an adaptation to see how they handle her, and her plotline in Artus always felt weak for me, ESPECIALLY her relationship with Merlin, which Wildhorn once described as something along the lines of a “bit of a romance” but that was painfully underdeveloped, especially on her end. We knew that he was weak for her, to his detriment, we knew that she wanted what he had, and that they do.....the do together, but there’s very little REAL development in there, and no sign, on my end, of that “little bit of romance” as opposed to just. Using one another. When I heard that that plotline had been revised, I was THRILLED. Now, I feel like it was a monkey’s paw situation.

(1) Morgana goes from more or less apathetic to Merlin’s situation to.......being totally obsessed with him, to the point where she says he’s the only man she ever loved? Like, she goes from someone HIGHLY motivated by what she believes is her rightful inheritance to being motivated by Merlin’s dick.

(2) The timeline. My God, the timeline. Making Morgana a child when she’s shipped off AND then doing the “Only man I ever loved” thing (and SEEMING to imply that Merlin did love her as well, but refused to say it) is.....it’s bad. No other way around it. They did NOT think that timeline through.

(3) I HATED Guinevere getting Morgana in the back with an arrow, but you know? That was yet another monkey’s paw situation, given that at least it wasn’t “Morgana falling for a very obvious ploy that she SHOULD have seen coming from a mile away if she wasn’t, as has been established, obsessed with Merlin’s dick.”

I will say that, reworking the plot so that Morgana’s obsessed with Merlin’s dick DID work out better in the sense that at least the Madonna/Whore complex with her and Guinevere isn’t really there: We no longer see Evil, Sexy Morgana VS Sweet Forest Maiden Guinevere, and Guinevere in this version of the musical is allowed to be much gutsier than her German counterpart. They did give her quite a bit of character as opposed to “Naive Girl who believes Arthur is The Best but finds out Wrong”. Now, that gutsiness flies out the window once she marries Arthur and is mainly confined to singing sad songs and stepping in between Arthur and Lancelot, but see above for Frankenstein’s Monster.

I will say that I did appreciate that this adaptation was willing to really give us a DEEPLY flawed Arthur; it’s something I’ve seen relatively little of post-White in terms of Arthurian adaptations, and it’s something I’ve missed. (Once Upon A Time’s Evil Arthur notwithstanding.) Arthur is really rarely allowed to BE a character in his own right, he has to be an Ideal™ or, if he’s a flawed character, flawed in an acceptable, palatable way; here, he’s an angry young man who’s shoved into a position that he’s not really qualified for and has to grow into it. He shoves people away, he shouts, he trusts Morgana too blindly, and he basically causes the Guinevere/Lancelot situation on his lonesome. It’s actually a little great to see.

BUT. But. Monkey’s paw. I LIKED seeing Arthur being a little bitch on occasion, but, for better or worse, he is our main character. And, outside of his bonding scenes with Guinevere and Lancelot early on, we really....don’t get to see that many scenes where he’s LIKABLE. There are a few moments (the scene where he tries to get Morgana to dance at his coronation is ADORABLE), but the first time we’re really introduced to him, he’s in a fight, he (understandably) snaps at Merlin, decides that, hey, being king might not be so bad, is fun for a little while, and then he spends a solid chunk of the second act being a dick because his father died. I don’t really know. I feel like this is going to be one of those things that I keep rolling over in my mind, as far as whether I REALLY like HIM as a main character, or whether I like those individual moments where he’s likable.

A part of me liked that we had, instead of the two siblings fighting during “Was Will Ich Hier”, we have Morgana and Arthur bonding. That sibling bond was, in my opinion, one of the more interesting possible dynamics in the show. But, unfortunately, the resulting conflict with Merlin felt very “been there, done that.” It’s more PLAUSIBLE than in cases where, say, the Enemy of the Week poses as a little girl and suddenly the main cast, who have known one another for twenty years, are suddenly slinging accusations against one another, but it STILL felt rather forced and predictable.

I was actually really grateful that we didn’t have the Morgana/Lot relationship in this particular production--Making Morgana an actual domestic abuse victim and then killing her off NEVER sat well with me, but as a result of that, now we have this situation where we have two more or less unconnected villains: Morgana and Wulfstan, and the plot only really needed one. Wulfstan, as a character, just....isn’t interesting. He’s a more or less generic “Barbarian Warlord” type who’s pissed Arthur killed his son and creeps on Morgana. I can’t REALLY say anything more there. Their plotlines intersect in the very beginning, when they capture Morgana and she guides them to Uther’s old castle, but other than that, there’s a general disconnect between them, and there’s no real PAYOFF to that. Instead, it just feels like it makes the plot needlessly busy.

One thing I’ve noticed, with both La Legende du Roi Arthur and XCalibur, is this pressure to fit as MUCH Arthurian in as possible, and as a result, the final musicals become rather crowded, so there’s no real time for DEVELOPMENT or substance.

“Okay, we have to have the pulling from the sword here!” “Right!” “Hm, Morgana le Fay is one of the most iconic antagonists, we probably need her there.” “Saxons?” “Sure!” “Everyone’s expecting Lancelot and Guinevere, we can’t not have them in there.”

I FEEL like XCalibur is LESS bogged down than LRA with regards to that factor, since the latter also threw in Maleagant as a secondary antagonist to Morgana and the Grail quest, but I still feel like XCalibur bit off more than it could really chew. Which is a pity, because there are Arthurian plot lines that have gotten comparatively little attention in recent days that you could include instead of going the “Paint By Numbers” route.

This also really shows in how it deals with certain plot lines, which are either dropped (Wulfstan V. Morgana), or come out of nowhere. This is REALLY obvious with Lancelot/Guinevere, which is a pity because I found myself, against my own will, rooting for them more than any other pairing in the show. Lancelot goes from a cocky lady’s man to...suddenly being smitten with Guinevere.....and then suddenly, after Guinevere is sad about Arthur being a dick, the two of them are fucking. Now, it would be NATURAL, as far as “Guinevere goes to Lancelot when she feels like Arthur’s being cold to her”, but we don’t SEE that. We literally cut from her in the forest, singing a sad song, and the next time we see them, they’re postcoital. It feels like it comes out of NOWHERE. My investment in them, as a couple, is more due to the strength of the two actors involved than the actual WRITING, which thinks that because the BEDROCK for something is there (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in combat! Oh, she feels neglected!”) that that means the house is there as well (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in common....so NOW he’s totally in love with her and is never going to flirt with another woman again. Oh, Guinevere is feeling abandoned by Arthur.......so we don’t NEED to see her going to Lancelot.”) They jump from Point A to point D and the audience is left with a sense of whiplash.

Some things, like Merlin’s actions re: Igraine and Uther, as well as Morgana, are just not explored to a depth that I would really find is satisfactory. “Oh, I did all these terrible things....because of Fate!” is something that we’re REALLY supposed to pull behind, but, given the pain to everyone involved, ESPECIALLY the women (Igraine, Morgana, and Guinevere ALL suffer from Destiny™), you have to REALLY wonder if there was literally anyone else who could have done it.

...so, really. BBC Merlin. BBC Merlin.

MOVING ON FROM MY SALT...as a medievalist, I was actually relatively happy that for ONCE in an Arthurian adaptation, the conflict between Christianity and paganism (WHICH HONESTLY WASN’T EVEN THAT MUCH OF A CONFLICT IN TERMS OF THE CELTIC WORLD, BUT MOVING ON) was presented as being pro-Christian. I’ve dealt with WAY too much media, in my time, that treats, say, 8th century Catholicism in Ireland the same as 16th century Catholicism in Spain, and NO. They were VERY distinct. I am saying this as a confirmed, happy atheist. They were distinct. I do not need or want The Mists of Avalon 10.0 on my screen, no thank you.

That being said...Monkey’s Paw. Monkey’s Paw. I was NOT happy to see the conflict presented as “Christianity taking over is Destined and Good, the Old Ways™ have had their time.” There’s this rather ugly fatalism that runs through it, along with the idea that followers of the pagan tradition HAD to die for Christianity to take its place. It’s...not my favorite thing in the world. Perhaps I’m simply unpleasable in this aspect, but there has GOT to be some medium between the two. Maybe this is my Medieval Irish Bias seeping through here, given that, with what I’m used to, the druids were mentioned in law books through the 8th century. I own this. (”But Rachel,” you might say, reasonably, “This isn’t 8th century Ireland”, to which I would of course say, “BUT IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T 6TH CENTURY WALES OR CORNWALL EITHER.”) Medieval people, historically, while they didn’t REALLY have religious tolerance as we know it, didn’t always see it in stark terms of “PAGANISM IN ONE CORNER, CHRISTIANITY IN ANOTHER”: They were, as a whole, FAIRLY good at integrating aspects of both in, even when they didn’t really mean to. The entire thing is just mangled horribly.

Anyway. Celtic Studies Salt Over.

Actors/Actresses: I’ll be honest, I was expecting, primarily, Morgana, Arthur, and Lancelot to pull the plot along, mainly because they get, together, most of the primary numbers, and because, in the German, Sabrina Weckerlin essentially carried the show on her back. As it was, Kim So Hyang’s Guinevere was the one who REALLY, in my opinion, ended up carrying the show. She had a wonderful voice, strong voice, and her Guinevere was able to make a full, smooth journey between a young, bold girl to the troubled wife of a troubled king to a woman wracked with regret. I’ve seen her in a lot of things, but I don’t think I really NOTICED her until now. She did some truly phenomenal work here, I was really glad, actually, that I got to see and appreciate her Guinevere. (Though, as a Min Kyung Ah fan....I would have LOVED to have seen her Guinevere.) She had great chemistry with both of her leads, lending credibility to both relationships, more than the script itself might really give.

Kai isn’t really an actor I ever really LOOK for in a musical, I wouldn’t say that I’m a MASSIVE fan, but that’s only because I don’t actively search for his stuff. Every time I’ve seen him in something, he’s been solid, and I did very much like him in the press calls. It does seem a little unfair that he got both the press calls AND the pro-shot, but c’est la vie. I did like his Arthur, he had a steady voice to back up the role, his acting was solid. Arthur, as a character, doesn’t REALLY stick out for me, but that isn’t HIS fault so much as the script’s, really, and my pre-built in bias towards Morgana. I didn’t find him to be REALLY likable in the role, very angry and sullen, but.....well. See above for my take on Arthur’s general likability here. I do think the man did the best with what he had, though I also feel like he’s more natural in Arthur’s dorkier, more relatable moments, especially with, say, Guinevere, Morgana, and Lancelot. (Though I’m not sure if that’s because I like Arthur as a CHARACTER more there or if I’m reacting to his ACTING in the role. This is one of those times where I’d have really liked to see Do Kyum or Junsu’s take on the role, since that would help me iron out what parts are the WRITING and what are the actor, but, lacking that, I’m going to err on the side of generosity.)

Shin Young Sook....I WANTED to like her Morgana. I did. But, I’ll be blunt, even as far back as the press call, I was feeling Jang Eun Ah’s Morgana more, I was, definitely, feeling a little disappointed when the proshot cast list was announced. So, in some ways, the poor woman would have had to have done miracles to get me to REALLY warm up to her. And I didn’t really see miracles on the stage. Her voice remains reliable, she is a belter like few others on the Korean stage. I give her that. But her acting basically totally ruined the character for me. My issues with the role, as detailed in the “Plot” section, aside, I believe that the overall character COULD be salvaged, from an audience perspective, with a nuanced enough portrayal. But, when I saw this particular take on Morgana...I didn’t see MORGANA. I saw Shin Young Sook, Having Fun, instead of Morgana, as portrayed by Shin Young Sook. An actress having fun in a role can definitely be GREAT (Park Hye Na as Eva in Frankenstein is one role of hers I will cherish forever), but in this case, which required a lot of nuance to pull it off and make the villain sympathetic....it does clash when you can tell that she’s one step away from evilly cackling and releasing a final belt before running off the stage. There is a time to ham and there is a time to not, and this was one of the “not” roles. There came some point, perhaps during the song “Desire”, perhaps before it, that I actively started DREADING Morgana appearing on stage. I don’t KNOW that Jang Eun Ah would have done it better. She could have done it worse. But it is a tragedy of only having a single cast available that I will always wonder. I was disappointed here. I was really, really disappointed.

Kim Jun Hyun as Merlin was solid. It’s well known at this point that I have a soft spot for him, but for what it’s worth, on a comparative level, I feel like this role suited him much better than, say, Orléans in Marie Antoinette (where, personally, though still liking him, I found him a little too cold for my taste). He is appropriately distant and otherworldly, showing a human side and conflict as the musical continues. Is he enough to make me LIKE Merlin, as a character? Not really, given how many people suffer because of him and how little the narrative actually QUESTIONS it, but damned if he doesn’t try, and he does lend a subdued charisma to the character, to the point where I know that at least some people noticed him more than they did Arthur or Lancelot. I did think he had -40 chemistry with Shin Young Sook, but that could be because I was ALREADY attached to him and Jang Eun Ah’s chemistry in the press call, and that is not so much a failing on one actor’s side or the other’s (I want to emphasize this, because I do NOT have anything against Shin Young Sook SPECIFICALLY on this point), rather it’s something that can’t really be qualified. (And is entirely subjective, I’m sure that plenty of viewers saw NOTHING wrong.) For me, it did cause me to actively cringe at certain scenes, such as the “This is where your Arthur came from”......”seduction”.....scene.

“Lord....I actually have fewer problems saying no to this than you might think, nvmind.”

It COULD be that that’s the look of conflicting desire, but to me, personally, watching it, it rather looks like Merlin just realized that he forgot to turn the stove off at home. Which is a pity, because I was REALLY going in here expecting to like Merlin/Morgana more than the love triangle and instead found it to be very awkwardly handled. I haven’t ENTIRELY given up on it as a ship, in some abstract way that would involve another rewrite of the entire musical, but I can’t REALLY say that there’s. Anything I like about it either. And I think that if I was less stubbornly determined to find SOMETHING in it to like, I’m fairly certain I would be even more uncomfortable with it.

My final verdict: Watching this, despite some impressive visuals (though not QUITE to the same level as fellow Wildhorn musicals The Man Who Laughs, Dracula, and Mata Hari) and performances, I found myself continually wanting to go back to the cast album rather than actually WATCH the musical. Changes have been made since the German production, but I found that, while some of the changes definitely served to make a stronger musical, some of them actively weakened the show, and it's still a little too busy for its own good. I’m also not REALLY sure that the changes made really justified it being given the label World Premiere™, given the hype around it. If it was available for streaming again, would I do it? Yes, because it IS worth at least one watch and the industry NEEDS to do this more. If it was available to buy, even, for $20 or so, I would probably get it. But I’m not sure that, if it was for the~ $100 price that Toho musicals tend to sell for, I would seriously be able to say “Yes, get this”, and I’m not sure that, if an American/European tour of it was miraculously announced, I would REALLY bend over backwards to get tickets.

6/10

Tl;dr: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER?”

#xcalibur #artus: excalibur #arthuriana #excalibur crit #(For anyone who doesn't want this in the tags)#long post

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