#blew it over the stupidest thing in the first 5 minutes

[errantgoat]

At this point I can't say if honor mode if fun or torture.

I am

so close

either I'll finish it during the holidays or go insane

[glitterslag]

Any Day of The Year - Roger Taylor x Reader (Valentine’s Day)

GUYS i’m literally so buoyed up by all the nice things people have said about Booty Call & its put me in the mood to just write and write and never stop SO here’s a silly little roger blurb thing i just wrote in one go because to be honest i’ve still got so many valentine’s feels and i’m not ready for the love to be over!!  i had to get this out even though it was 2 days ago    D E A L  W I T H  I T

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: language, smut

Summary: Modern day AU. You’ve broken up with your boyfriend and your friend Roger doesn’t want you to be alone on Valentine’s Day.

1.

“Prick.” Rog mumbled absentmindedly, mouth full of a cigarette as he chucked takeaway menus and unopened post everywhere, searching the cluttered kitchen counter for his lighter. “I’ll kill him.”

“It’s here, idiot.”

He turned to you, sat on the sofa with your arm held out, zippo in hand. He walked over to stand in front of you, staring down at you while you lit his cig for him.

“Has he cheated on you?” He demanded. 

“No, Rog.” You said gently, sighing. 

He raised a bemused eyebrow, hands on hips. 

“Well what happened, then?” 

He asked it as though he’d never heard of any other reason to break up with someone. In fact, he probably hadn’t. 

You just shrugged, looking anywhere in the room but at him. 

“Just said it wasn’t gonna work out.” 

“Wanker.”

“Yeah.” 

Roger flopped down next to you on the settee, arms spread over the back as he blew smoke at the ceiling. 

“You bothered?” He said, eyeing you quickly before he dropped his head back again, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“A bit,” you mused. It wasn’t like the two of you had been going out long. “It’s more the fact that it was only the day before Valentine’s Day. Wish he could’ve waited, you know? Now I don’t have anything to do.” 

Roger chuckled, letting his outstretched arm come down to rest on your shoulders. It was always straight to the point with you two. 

“Saving himself a good fifty quid by not taking you out for dinner, mind.” He said to himself, staring at something far-off with awed eyes. “I like his style.” 

You shoved him hard, and he dropped the deadpan act in exchange for a hearty laugh. 

“Not funny.” 

---------------------------

2.

Valentine’s was probably the only night of the year Roger Taylor didn’t have a date. 

Bad for his rep, he said, to be seen out with a girl on Valentine’s Day. Couldn’t be doing with them getting any ideas, thinking he was looking for relationships and romance. Besides, he could get laid any other day of the week. 

He was happy to stay in with you, eating pizza all night and keeping you distracted from the heartbreak of losing Jonty. 

“It’s Jeremy!” You hissed at him for the twelfth time. “And I am NOT heartbroken.” 

He shrugged easily and popped open a beer, grinning. 

“Whatever.” 

Roger never liked your boyfriends, and couldn’t ever pretend to be too upset when it all went pear-shaped (which it usually did). He’d always give the stupidest reasons, like not liking a guy’s hair or that his jeans fit badly, and even once because he “didn’t like the way he ate his cereal”. 

A few too many bottles of beer later and you were starting to wonder whether he was right, though, scrolling up through yours and Jeremy’s old text conversations, trying to pin-point the exact moment it had all gone wrong this time.  

You had Rog temporarily distracted, trying to make sense of the pizza menu whilst tipsy and not wearing his glasses, squinting and muttering to himself darkly. 

“I keep telling you to get contacts.” You said, half irritated, and he looked up and noticed what you were doing. 

“Are you reading old texts?!” 

You made a move to hide your phone. Too slow, he snatched it away from you. 

“Stop it!” You protested, making grabby hands at him. He held it high above your head. 

“You’ll only drunk text him.” He warned, as if he had all of a sudden become the authority on all things romantic, and you rolled your eyes, annoyed. 

“What kind of pizza should I get?” 

------------------------------

3.

Roger could be a gent, when he wanted. He provided the beers and paid for the pizza (you’d usually always go halves on takeaways) and his unspoken sympathy offering didn’t go unnoticed. 

He also knew how to be a little shit. 

When the delivery man had smiled and told the two of you to have a good night, Roger had shot him an evil grin, taking the pizza box under one arm and pulling you into his side. 

“Oh, I will mate.” He’d said, roughly grabbing your arse as you stifled a squeal. “If you know what I mean.”

He gave your bum a playful slap, winked at the blushing pizza boy and swung the apartment door shut in his face. 

“ROGER!” 

He just burst out cackling as you shoved him away. 

You tutted to yourself as you took the food back into his bedroom, getting yourselves settled on the bed. You felt bad for the poor boy. He couldn’t have been any more than sixteen. 

You weren’t really angry, though. It was all in good fun. You knew Rog could never talk to you ugly or touch you ugly. 

-------------------------------

4.

“Hey this pizza’s shaped like a heart!” You exclaimed, pleased, as you opened the box. “Valentine’s Day, and all that. I love Pizza Hut!”

Roger peered in. 

“Cute.” He commented, reaching for your confiscated phone in his back pocket. “Should instagram it.”

You froze, watching him as he fumbled with the password. 

“Rog, don’t.”

“Why?”

You reddened, answering him in the smallest of voices.

“Don’t want Jeremy to see it.” 

He put your phone away, but scoffed at you nevertheless. 

“Why d’you care?”

You didn’t say anything. 

As mugged off as you were feeling, you could never bring yourself to do something like that. Even though it had been him who dumped you, you wouldn’t want Jeremy to think you were on some kind of date only a day after the breakup. 

“Fine,” Roger started casually, searching the bed for his own phone. “I’ll just post it on mine.” 

You eyed him warily. 

“Why would you do that? You hate all that cheesy stuff.”

He ignored you, hovering over the bed on his knees so he could take his picture from above. 

“Does Jeremy follow you?” You asked uneasily. 

He still wouldn’t answer. 

“Roger!”

“What?” He said defensively, and you watched him helplessly as he posted the picture. “Got to give him something to be jealous about.” 

“You better hadn’t have tagged me!”

“He needs to realise how much of a prick he’s been.” He replied simply, as if that explained everything, leaning back on his hand and stuffing a slice of pepperoni into his big fat mouth. 

-------------------------------

5.

A couple more beers later and you were snogging in a giggly heap and to be honest, the only thing you could think was how much of a miracle it was that it hadn’t happened sooner. His tongue tasted like garlic mayo, and you weren’t even mad about it. 

You knocked a beer bottle over in the process and realised you were far too drunk for this, and had it been anyone else but him it could never have been a good idea. You felt bad about Jeremy for what - a second? But it was Roger for christ’s sake. He couldn't exactly be one to judge. 

“Bet you didn’t think you would be getting it in tonight.” You said, strained, tongue poking out a little as you tried to wiggle out of your skinny jeans. 

“I mean I was kind of hoping.” He looked at you apologetically, scratching his head. “Is that allowed?”

After a few unsuccessful attempts to bend you over (”why d’you keep turning round?” “Because I want to look at you you fucking idiot!”) Roger conceded. 

“Fine.” He huffed, flipping you back over and rolling his eyes like it was some big chore. You bounced a little, giggling. “Guess we’ll have to do it the ‘romantic’ way.” 

Oh what a shame. 

You could practically hear the air quotes in his voice, but he smushed his face into your neck all the same, nuzzling at you with his nose as he pushed back into you. You sighed dreamily, running your fingers through his hair, and judging by the size of his smile against your skin he wasn’t really all that opposed. 

-------------------------------

6. 

Ten minutes later and you were both dressed again, back to stealing his pizza crusts like it was any other night. He searched for something to watch on Netflix and you rested your head against his shoulder. Easy.

“We did it the wrong way around.” You remarked sleepily, and he didn’t understand what you meant. 

“It’s supposed to be Netflix and then chill.” You explained. “We did the chilling part first.” 

He winced, chuckling. 

“I don’t think it specifies the order, babe.” 

It wasn’t until a little while later, when you’d nearly fallen asleep, that he finally looked down at you, voice low and eyes suddenly serious.

“The only thing I’ve done in the wrong order was leaving this until tonight instead of doing it two years ago.”

He pressed a kiss low on your neck, then, suddenly making you feel very sober, and your heart was beating so fast you had to turn away. 

[makeste]

a meme.

I got tagged by @iris-best, and it’s the weekend, so hey why not.

name: makeste (Julie if you want to go with irl, but this is the Internet)

gender: f

starsign: scorpio!

height: 5′5″ (the same height as Gokudera! WHY DO I KNOW THIS? because I just do okay)

sexuality: bi

lock screen image: currently it’s this Avengers 4 mock-up poster from reddit.

teacher crush: listen, you Gen Z meme, I’ve been out of school for more than 11 years so I honestly don’t recall anymore.

if you could go anywhere: no matter where I am at any given time, I would rather be in Walt Disney World, so I’ll say that first off. I also really want to visit Japan again; I’ve only been once and it was a long, long time ago. I would also like to visit Italy and New Zealand and Croatia and Singapore and about 175 other places. If only I had, you know, MONEY. (and time.)

where do you see yourself in 10 years: I don’t even know where I see myself in 10 minutes tbh.

coolest halloween costume: none of my Halloween costumes, not a single one, has ever qualified as “cool.” That said, I went as a Stormtrooper one time and really enjoyed it because I also bought one of those Nerf blasters and it was a lot of fun to shoot foam rubber darts at things.

favorite 90s tv show: LEEEEGENNNDDS OF THE HIDDEN TEEEEEMPLLLLE

last kiss: I blew a kiss at a little puppy the other day, that’s about as much of an answer as I will give to this oddly voyeuristic question.

ever been stood up? nah

fave shoes: right now it’s these (just FYI that’s an Amazon link, for anyone who’s currently boycotting the site). I basically live in flip flops during the summer but they tend to hurt my feet after a while; these don’t and I’ve had them for a few years now.

fave fruit: avocados. Do they count as fruit (technically they’re ~berries~)? I don’t know and I don’t care; I could eat avocados every day for the rest of my life.

fave book: I’m not sure. Possibly Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell.

stupidest thing i’ve ever done: majoring in communications. I had no particular interest in it whatsoever; I just didn’t know what else to major in, and stupidly listened to the advice of several family members that had also majored in this. If I could go back and do it over I would have majored in computer science.

I tag anyone who’s interested! Go out there and fulfill your dreams.

[spaceorphan18]

CHANGED FOR THE BETTER 7 [KLAINE ADVENT 7]

Rating: S for Shenanigans Word Count: 2662 Summary: AU - Kurt’s a struggling actor living in New York, and is currently working on a Made-for-TV movie starring Cooper Anderson.

A/N: Written for Klaine Advent Day 7: Genuine

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

//

Changed for the Better - Part 7/24: Make ‘Um Laugh

Kurt was pulling up the couch cushions, looking for his keys when Elliott came out of his room the next morning.  Elliott didn’t think anything of it at first, until he passed by Kurt’s room on the way to the bathroom.  The door was ajar, and yes, there was a guy sleeping in Kurt’s bed.  Elliott paused, looked over at Kurt, back at his bedroom, then back at Kurt.  Kurt was feeling relieved to find his keys under the couch when he noticed Elliott staring at him.  

“What?” Kurt asked - as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  

Elliott took a few steps closer, and in a hushed voice asked, “did you bring Cooper Anderson’s brother over last night?”

“That’s not Cooper’s brother,” Kurt replied.  He put his shoes on, ignoring Elliott’s incredulous look.  

“Huh?  Well then, who is it?”

“It’s my ex.”

“Oh, Kurt…”

“If he decides to leave before I get back, make sure he leaves the key this time.” 

“Kurt, I’m not going to be your--”

Kurt was out the door before Elliott could finish the sentence.  He didn’t really want to deal with Adam, or think about Adam, or think about whatever it was that happened last night.  If Adam was there when he got home, then fine, if not, he should keep trying to move on.  That was what he had been doing, right? Moving on? How moved on was he now? God…  

When he got to the subway headed for downtown, he took out his phone, and scrolled through the conversation he had that morning with Blaine.  Blaine wanted to meet him for lunch - that seemed like an okay decision.  Something to keep him busy and not thinking about the guy in his bed.  Besides, Blaine had kind eyes, and lacked Cooper Anderson’s sense of ego.  Coffee would be just fine.  

How did his life get to be so confusing?

His phone buzzed, Rachel in a dramatic pose lighting up the screen.  He could ignore it.  Though she might possibly blow up his phone if he did.  He answered. 

“Did you sleep with Adam last night?” she shrieked.  

“Good morning to you, too, Rach.”  

“As your best friend, and closest confident, I have a right to know if you’re making the stupidest mistake in your life right now.”  

God, he had not had enough coffee to deal with her melodramaticism.  “How did you even know Adam came over?”

“Elliott texted me after you blew him off this morning.”

“Why are you and Elliott contacts?”

“For this reason exactly.  Because I’m concerned about you - and he gives me updates.”  

“He spies on me for you?”

“Well, not exactly…”

Poor Elliott - Kurt could just see him being hounded by Rachel until he gave in.  He really needed to have a talk with Rachel about boundaries at some point.  

“Look, Kurt, I’m concerned that you may not be aware of the ramifications of your actions.”

“Which would be?”

There was a pause before she spoke again, which was unlike her.  “I think you’re just going to get hurt again.”  

His stop was close, perfect timing to end the uncomfortable conversation.  “Rachel, I’ve got to go.”

“Kurt! We’re going to have this conversation at some point!”

“Bye, Rachel!”

Kurt arrived at their meeting point, a small, tucked in coffee shop a few minutes early.  The coffee shop was quiet, only a few people spread out at the various tables, and quite unlike the hurried and packed Starbucks he usually frequented.  The coffee shop looked like it was a set for the Christmas movie he had just made, all wood furniture and wood paneling, white and gold Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, coffee being served in ceramic instead of paper, and a full bakecase filled homemade pastries.    

Kurt was wondering if Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal were going to show up when he felt a light touch on the small of his back.  

“Hey, sorry, I’m running a little late,” it was Blaine, looking polished and warm as he had the night before.  

“Oh, I just got here, it’s fine,” Kurt said, holding himself close, and feeling nervous.  Why was he so nervous?  “This is a nice place.”  

“It’s fantastic,” Blaine said - as they headed up to the counter.  “I’ve been coming here since I came to the city.  Maria, can I get my usual?”

Maria, the middle-aged barista, lit up when she saw Blaine.  “Yes, of course!  And here, we baked a few extra blueberry muffins, why don’t you and your company have one on us.”  

“Oh, thanks Maria.”  

To Kurt’s astonishment, they were given the free muffins, and Kurt received a discount on his drink for coming in for the first time - though Kurt suspected it had more to do with Maria just being in love with Blaine.  She chattered all the way through the transaction, with Blaine nodding along with sincere interest.  He even gave a five dollar tip.  What a world Blaine Anderson lived in.  

They took their seats near the back and settled in, Kurt taking a moment savor his first sip of coffee.  Nothing like it to wake him up in the morning.  

“Is it good?” Blaine asked, watching him, intrigued.   

“Amazing.”  He took another long sip.  

Blaine grinned at him, and for a moment, it was almost as if the two of them had done this every day for years.  It was a weird feeling - that they had only just met.  For some reason, Kurt felt like he had known Blaine before - from somewhere else - but couldn’t say why he felt that way.  There was a bit of an awkward silence as Kurt remembered they were nearly strangers.  

“So - you said something about a meeting this morning for your show?” Kurt asked.  That was why Blaine contacted him - or at least that was what he had said.  

“Yeah, boring financial stuff, which is a lot of paperwork,” Blaine said.  “Believe it or not - we’re being funded by June Dolloway.”  

“The June Dolloway?” Kurt could hardly believe it.  He had heard of her back in college - when NYADA named a wing after her because she donated so much money.  “How do you guys even know her?”

“I know, it’s crazy right?”  Blaine bounced in his chair.  “I’ve actually been working with June for a few years now.  She saw me perform at NYU and said she wanted to sponsor me - or my career I guess and has been showcasing me ever since.”

“That’s...amazing,” Kurt said.  He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little bit jealous right now.  Still, he had seen Blaine perform - Blaine’s charisma was off the charts.  He was a natural performer - it made sense.  “So, she’s funding the whole show?”

“The whole thing out of pocket,” Blaine said.  “It’s kind of a big gamble though - if it goes well, then it could be moved to Broadway.  If doesn’t -- well…”  

“It’s kind of an all or nothing thing then?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“So…” Kurt looked into his coffee instead of directly at Blaine.  “You still would like me to be a part of it then?  I mean, you just met me - you’ve never seen me perform.” Hopefully, Blaine has never seen him perform.  There were no tapes of his one show failed show, right?  

“Well, taken on recommendation,” Blaine said.  “You have no idea how much Cooper raved about you.”  

“Really?” That was hard to believe - especially with his attitude the last few weeks, nor did he think Cooper had that great of judgment in the first place.  

“Honestly, he thinks you’re brilliant.”  

Well, it would have been nice for Cooper to tell him that instead of all the pep talks he used to get, but Kurt kept that thought to himself. It was nice hearing that someone thought he had talent - even if it was Cooper Anderson.  

“Oh, well, tell him thanks, I guess.”  

Blaine leaned in a little closer. “To be honest with, I’m totally looking forward to that movie you guys made.  It sounds delightful.”  

Kurt groaned a little.  “Oh, it’s so cheesy.  I hope you’re not disappointed because it rates right up there with anything put out by Hallmark or The Disney Channel.”  

“Who doesn’t love cheesy things?” There was a certain flirtatiousness in Blaine’s eyes.  Kurt wasn’t sure exactly what to do about that.  “I mean, I, for one, love those kind of movies.  So what if they aren’t the most realistic.  Why not indulge in a romantic fantasy every once in awhile?”

Blaine reached across the table and placed a hand on his, gently brushing his thumb along Kurt’s knuckles.  The gesture was brought on by such genuine kindness and  delicate care that it threw Kurt for a second - causing him to become frozen in his chair, unable to look away from their linked hands.  Then a wash of guilt settled over him.  He didn’t want to lead Blaine on - not with his head so confused.  He pulled his hand back, under the pretense of using it for another sip of coffee.  

“Blaine, I should be honest with you about something,” Kurt said, having a hard time looking up.  “Um, my ex-boyfriend turned up last night.”

“Oh?”

“And...I don’t know how I feel about it,” Kurt continued, nervously tapping a finger against the mug.  “You know what, you probably aren’t interested in this.”  

“No, go ahead,” Blaine said.  He leaned back in his chair, and Kurt was unable to read how he felt about it, but Blaine at least seemed open to whatever he was going to say.  

“It’s this whole thing,” Kurt said, looking to the ceiling.  Where to even begin?  “My ex -- Adam -- he was my first boyfriend. He was my first, well, everything.  We met near the end of college, he followed me around for months, and I had never received anything like that kind of attention before.  He even serenaded me once. I mean it was Baby, Got Back - so that probably doesn’t even count.”

Blaine chuckled into his coffee.  “Probably wouldn’t have been my first choice, but go on.”  

“Anyway, it was fine, and then he moved in as one does.  And then -- I don’t know -- it just stopped working.  Be began fighting all the time and we didn’t spend time with each other any more.  And then on day he just moved out.  He didn’t even tell me, I just came home one day to all his stuff being gone.  And then he broke up with me over text.”

“Classy.”  

“And that was months ago, and I was so angry at first.  I was never, ever going to forgive him.  But then when he showed up, after all those months of not talking -- I just felt like things were…”

“Unresolved?”

“Yeah.”

“How long were you together.”

“Five years.”

“That’s--a long time,” Blaine was thinking but what Kurt couldn’t tell.  “I’m not going to pry into what you do in your private life, or ask details or anything.  But maybe, whatever happened, you needed to have some closure.”  

“Yeah, maybe,” Kurt wasn’t sure if he had thought of it that way.  Last night didn’t feel so much like closure - more like reopening.  But Blaine was right.  Kurt never did get his chance to say goodbye.  

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, I’m not the greatest when it comes to romantic advice,” Blaine said - looking unsure for the first time since Kurt had met him.  “I’ve never really been in a long term relationship.”

“Huh?”

“So, my first boyfriend - my first, as you say, everything was in high school,” Blaine smiled again as he retold the memory.  “And I’m pretty sure I was in love with him more than he was in love with me.  I kind of pulled out all the romantic stops, which included singing to him at his place of employment -- which was a Gap in the mall.”

“Oh no,” Kurt placed a hand to his mouth to stop from giggling.  “Really?”

“Really,” Blaine nodded.  “It was so embarrassing.  I guess I got better as time went on, and I had a few boyfriends during college, but no one who really stuck.  No one who really...made me feel like those cheesy Christmas movies.”  

Kurt placed his head on his hand.  “I guess I just find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, well…” Blaine gave a shrug.  

“So, your, um, okay if this,” Kurt gestured vaguely around, “is just hanging out and being friends for now?”

“Sure,” Blaine said - which seemed slightly forced.  “I mean, I was going to ask you if you’d like to accompany tomorrow night to see a revival of Rent and have dinner at that new Italian place nearby, which we could still do as friends.  But if you need space, and you’d like to keep a strictly professional relationship - I do understand.”

“No, I’d love to do that with you,” Kurt said quickly - maybe too quickly.  “I mean as friends.  That sounds like a lovely night.”

Blaine’s face lit up.  “Great.”

The conversation went a bit smoother there after - Kurt relaxing the more he and Blaine chatted.  They talked about a variety of things, musicals, fashion, really bad reality TV.  Blaine even seemed interested in the wedding planning Kurt was doing for his brother.  The day flew by, and four cups of coffee and an actual lunch later, they parted ways - Kurt feeling giddy and happy and not really wanting their time together to end.  

By the time he arrived home, he was so lost in thought about meeting up with Blaine the next night, he had forgotten the mess he had left that morning.  

Adam was there, sitting in the kitchen, lazily going through his phone.  Elliott was also there, cooking something, giving Kurt an apologetic look as he walked in the door.  

“I wondered when you’d come back,” Adam said with a bite.  “Or was this your twisted way of getting me back.”

“I’m wasn’t trying to get you back,” Kurt said, the joy from his day quickly fading.  “Believe it or not, I’m not you - I wouldn’t purposely hurt someone instead of just talking to them.”

Adam got up and came in close, much like he did the previous night.  Elliott made a little gasp, but was focusing hard on his frying pan.  

“I don’t want to fight,” Adam said.  “I want to figure out how we can make this right.”  

“I don’t know if we can,” Kurt said.  He thought about Blaine - about what he said about needing closure.  He needed to say goodbye.  But why was that proving so hard?  

“What about last night?” Adam said, curling his lip in that goofy pout he gave when he knew he was in trouble.  Kurt hated that it worked so easily on him. “That was something.”  

“It was…” Bad judgment? A stupid thing? Goodbye? He pushed away from Adam, and thankfully, Elliott’s presence stopped Adam from trying anything.  “I’m going to need some space...and some time.”

“You didn’t need space or time last night.”

Kurt bit his lip.  Was every bad choice always going to follow him around?  “I don’t know if getting back together is what I want,” he said - as much as it seemed to hurt Adam.  “Look, I’m going to be knee deep in my brother’s wedding the next couple of weeks, and I’ll be back in Ohio for a while.  It’ll be some time for me -- alone, and when I come back.  We can talk this through, okay?”  

“Okay,” Adam came to him and kissed him - a familiar and gentle kiss.  Kurt hated the ease.  “So, where were you today?”

“Nowhere,” Kurt said.  He didn’t want Adam to know about Blaine.  Blaine, whatever it was with Blaine, was special - and he didn’t want Adam to taint that.  Elliott gave him a sharp glance, because Elliott knew better.  But thankfully, the subject was changed.  

[takaraphoenix]

Things that upset me more than they probably have a right to: Birthday Edition

So. Huh. Personal thing again. Keep scrolling if uninterested, but I always liked venting to the internet and this apparently upsets me more than anticipated. So yeah. It was my birthday roughly two weeks ago and it was kind of a gigantic disappointment that ended with me uncontrollably sobbing into my pillow? Yeah that happened. But let me do this chronologically. The original plan was to go see the premiere of Thor: Ragnarok because its release date was originally my birthday. The release date was pushed back for reasons unknown to me and that wad kind of a bummer because that is liiiterally my most anticipated movie of the year. Plans changed and I invited six friends out for cocktails instead. I don't really have a lot of physical - outside the internet - friends. Two of them I would have had classes with that day. Which. Neat. New semester and new classes always means a lot of angsting and sitting alone because I do nooot do well with meeting people so I was glad I had one of the few classes I had with my friends. Since classes were til four and we all had agreed on meeting at six, I had asked those two friends if we should go early, grab dinner together. They agreed, so the plan for the day was set. I was alone in class on my birthday because both of them blew off classes. Without telling me. Which, obviously and consequencely, tanked dinner plans too. So after sitting alone in class, which always makes me feel anxious and tense and just overall Not Good, I went home and had... cold left over pizza for dinner on my birthday. Alone. And if you think that's sad, boooy are you in for a ride. Now the reason I know the other two blew off classes is because they told me so when we met at the bar. Because yeah they came for cocktails but had seemingly forgotten about dinner plans. First presents were exchanged. Or. Well. Orally promised. Both separately invited me to the movies, film my choice. Which, cop out present when you reeeaaally don't know what to get someone but also suuuper neat because yeah everybody loves going to the movies but they got expensive as fuck. Still like. At least a handwritten card with the invitation would have been nice or something? I don't know; this will feature me being picky and overly critical A Lot. Third friend arrived late due to classes. She was a sweetie and literally the only one I don't blame for feeling like shit at the end of my birthday. She got me a bag of assorted purple stuff. A notebook, four different fancy pens, Milka chocolates. Purple is my favorite color, all that I own from socks to glasses is purple. It's my thing. So that was cute. Fourth friend arrived late due to work. Her present... next thing that kinda really upset me. A key charm that is wiiildly not my taste but that alone would have been okay. Additionally a Weeping Angel necklace. Which in itself; hey she nailed the Whovian in me. But. She had given me the EXACT same necklace last year already and that's just... ouch. Not even important enough to remember that, huh...? Fifth friend arrived even later due to classes. Fifth friend is Best Friend. We sat at a table where three people fit on the length of it and one on the head. I had been sitting in the middle of the length on the bench, between friends one and three, with four opposite me and two diagonally from me. Birthday girl and being like... the center of attention, you know? Makes sense, right? Best Friend has had a shit ton of physical issues after an accident and does better sitting on the bench than a chair - which were the only seats still empty. So when Best Friend asked friend number one if she would mind sitting on a chair instead, I was kinda happy because hey I had already been sitting next to one for two hours so it wasn't that bad I was happy to get to sit next to my Best Friend who I get to see once a month if I'm lucky. When neither her nor friend four moved on to sit on the bench, I prompted friend four and she went "nah why don't you". And I went really as flat-out as I can get and told her to sit, but she and Best Friend ushered me very firmly to sit. Not only did I then end up in the far corner and thus out of earshot of two. No. Four took the middle spot. Meaning I was ALSO out of earshot of my Best Friend, with whom I then consequencely got to exchange the staggering amount of five fucking sentences all evening. Which yeah, amplified by four sitting between us because she and four have a longer history with each other and I know while I place her as my best friend, four takes that spot for her. Whenever it's the three of us, I basically feel like a third wheel. So yeah. I was literally third-wheeling my own birthday. Best Friend got me a cute gift though. A phone case of my favorite anime. Friend six arrived two hours late due to mental issues. She has depression and bipolar disorder and while I do not blame her for that, I do hold her accountable for other things. One of those we'll get back to later. The other being her present to me. A chocolate Advent Calendar... with sexy girls on it. And not even tasteful sexy girls that you can admire aesthetically but... porn-y sexy girls. And yes. Part of why this upset me so fundamentally was because I had just come out as ace here on tumblr and received so much encouragement and so many nice words and this felt like an ice cold reality check of this being the real world and me not being out to my friends. Other reasons why it upset me include: Even if you don't know that I'm asexual, you're my friend and shooould have the basic understanding of my taste to know how disturbingly tasteless and unfunny I find stuff like that. Porn flat out disgusts me. So yeah. Made me feel like she really doesn't know me at all. A feeling driven home by her telling the story of how she bought it and had originally been holding an Advent Calender of "Sleeping Beauty", deeming that lame and thus going for the porn calendar. Aurora is LITERALLY my favorite Disney princess and despite a 3€ advent calendar being a real cheap birthday present either way, I would have been suuuper happy about one with my favorite Disney princess. Fuck this, I would have been super happy about a calendar with any Disney princess because I'm a Disnerd. And eeeverybody who knows me for an hour knows that. So. Yeah. Not just a tasteless gift but one that could have been something cool instead if she... knew me AT ALL. Really upsetting to realize that your friends can't even be bothered to remember the most... basic interests of yours. Now. The evening proceeded. One had to go early. Two and three ended up talking a lot among themselves. So did four and six and my best friend. Head count. Who does that leave out of the conversations? Right. The birthday girl. I tried telling a story. Just to be interrupted and talked over, the conversation being hijacked and no one being interested in hearing the end of my story. And I get it. I really very painfully do. I know I'm not interesting to talk to or to spend time with and my self-esteem is so low, I keep it in the basement. I will not try to rope you into a conversation with me during a social event because there are other people you could talk to that are far more interesting. That's why I had selfishly put myself at the center of the table. So all conversations would happen around me and I could get involved. I was sitting in the corner. Not talking and at that point already plenty upset about being alone during class and having dinner canceled without a notice and the gifts that just showed how shallowly my friends apparently know me and how little they cared to know me. And just. No one noticed or cared. Which. Yeah. Really not a surprise anymore at that point. Best Friend had to go after only an hour because work early in the morning. Not her fault. But also kinda made me even more upset because I had LITERALLY only exchanged 5 sentences with her. And before the rest of us called it a night, I got into what I consider one of THE stupidest arguments I've ever been involved in with friend four... about the price of burgers at the Irish pub we go to. Because I had said that the new pub that opened up a month ago is too expensive for me since it charges 5€ more for a cheeseburger than our usual pub does. And she just got so... obsessedly vindictive. She had to look up the menues and rub it under my nose how it were "only" 4,10€. For one: Fuck you but 4,10 is still five and also have you never heard of mild exaggeration? Was the fucking price of fucking burgers really worth it to argue angrily about with someone who feels like rolling in needles at every argument because they make me uncomfortable, but... at my fucking birthday? Could you not let 5 be even just for the sake of it being my fucking birthday...? Now. As we leave the establishment and head home, let me return to friend six and things I hold her accountable for. I get being too emotionally drained or wired to do social events. So her canceling... an hour after we all had agreed to meet. Still sucked but yeah bipolar and depression. When she still came, I was happy. When I got her present... not so much. But when I overheard her talking to friend four while we waited for the bus and literally asking "It was good that I came to her birthday party after all, right?". Literally phrased as a question seeking validation. If she had directed that question toward me. Okay. Yeah. But toward another friend? What is this? "Oh yes you were so brave coming despite it all and putting up with her. How strong of you to endure", or what? So by the time I got off the bus, I literally couldn't keep the tears of disappointment down and cried for the following 10 minutes of walking through my city's ghetto at midnight. Fun times that. The final blow was kiiinda served when I got home to a 4 minute voice message from my best friend and I actually thought "at least she caught on with my mood and will now question me about it, showing that... at least one person paid attention to me on my birthday". It was about her mom whose birthday is one day after mine and about how she can be a real bitch (holy shit, that woman REALLY can be a petty bitch, I know that) and how glad my best friend is that unlike her mom, I'm an "amicable scorpion". And. Yeah. That's where I burst and sent her a message of how much I wish I wasn't so amicable because maybe then I would have spoken up at one of the muuultiple occasions of being upset that night. Which. Not fair because only partially her fault, but I was just sooo done and crying hard enough that I was shaking too much to properly type. Oh. To round it all off: The majority of my online friends, the ones I've been friends with for years and many to whom I always felt like I had a closer friendship to than to the friends physically close to me, completely forgot about my birthday and didn't congratulate me at all or only belatedly. My oldest friend who moved away a year ago didn't wish me a happy birthday at all and in fact STILL hasn't as much as messaged me. Both my aunts AND my uncle forgot my birthday, even though my family has a hard tradition that every household calls the one who has birthday to congratulate. It's an important thing of basic politeness, really. Yeah. That's why I don't like my birthday because I already feel unimportant, unwanted and uninteresting enough on a daily basis, but on the one day where you're supposed to be celebrated and the center of attention...? Stuff like this just validates my opinion of myself and why I keep my self-esteem in the basement. Because apparently people I love and care about can't even be bothered to know me at all - because THAT is what the presents are about, not about how much they cost but about how much thought went into them. Or, heck, they flat out can't be bothered to remember my birthday at all. Because caring about me is quite clearly something that is asking too much.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Sixth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

First … Second … Third … Fourth … Fifth … Fifth Christmas, Part 2 … Sixth … Seventh … Eighth … Ninth … Tenth … Eleventh … Twelfth … Thirteenth … Fourteenth … Fifteenth … Sixteenth … Seventeenth … Eighteenth … Nineteenth … Twentieth … Twenty-first … Twenty-second … Twenty-third

———————–

After the monster that was Rob Roberts, they ended up with a layover in Chicago. Mulder looked out the window at the waiting area, decided he wanted to see Chicago and turned to Scully, suggesting they should stay there, check out the wonders of the Christmas season in the Windy City.

She’d only said they’d better do it on their dime and not the FBI’s. He’d agreed wholeheartedly, given he really didn’t want to have to explain to accounting why he had a room with a Jacuzzi tub and had raided the mini-bar within an inch of its life.

It was a medium-sized nightmare to get their luggage off the plane but between two badges, authoritative voices and a wee bit of lying, they were soon in a hastily rented compact car, Mulder with his knees up around his ears as he tried to drive. She’d offered to drive but he turned her down, saying this was his idea, he’d deal with the unfamiliar city and heinous traffic.

While they waited for their luggage, Mulder had cruised the shops of the concourse, then asked two separate security guards and an on-break ticket agent about hotels and returned soon enough with a destination, directions and the keys to their car.

Scully nearly protested when he told her he’d found a place but when he flashed her his gold credit card and said it was his treat, she stopped worrying. Mulder may have a penchant for flea-infested nightmares when it came to the government’s dime but when he shopped for himself, he usually went classier than Tom and Bob’s Trave-Lodge.

Traffic wasn’t the total nightmare she’d been expecting. It was far worse but given all she had to do was look out the window and enjoy the views, she began relaxing while Mulder quietly wished death upon all those that drove in his way.

Her first grinding halt occured when she saw where they were staying had the hotel name on the front glass doors … and an honest-to-God man, in uniform no less, opening that door for them, greeting them with a hat tilt and a smile. He had to gently nudge her to get her moving through the door.

Her second grinding halt, which caused him to run directly into her, happened when a young man of no more than 20 scurried over and took her bag, including her satchel, as Mulder liked to refer to it and she argued every time that it was a handbag.

Her third and final grinding halt came when the bill slid across the smoother the glass mahogany check-in desk, the fleeting number of $548 meeting her wide-eyed gaze before disappearing discreetly under Mulder’s hand as he easily scrawled his name across the bottom. Whispering in her ear, “I like that I can still surprise you,” he put his hand to her elbow and turned her from the desk to the elevator.

She didn’t even seem to notice the woman standing inside, pushing the button for the 15 floor for them and he leaned over, grinning, “not gonna comment on the elevator lady?”

“Still processing it has more than two floors and needs an elevator.”

His smile continued as he got them in the room, Scully taking a minute to register that he didn’t let her in her own room. About to ask, he beat her to it, “so I got the jacuzzi suite which has a full size pull out sofa as well as a king-size bed. Figured I could take one and you could take the other and we could share the tub.”

There was a hot flash of muscle-twinging anticipation that shot through her before she got things under control, turning to him with a cool exterior that he saw right through, “you should have told me to pack a bathing suit.”

“We’re about two blocks of the main strip. I think we can find you one if need be.” The ‘need be’ hung there between Mulder’s grin and her raised eyebrow. Finally, he started towards her, smile widening, “want to go shopping now or should we jump right in?”

Finally, her face began heating, her cheeks first, then the slow creep of it over her scalp, across her ears and down her neck, “I’m leaning towards the shopping part.”

Coming in closer, “does that mean you could be properly persuaded to lean the other way?”

“Shopping, Mulder. Let’s go shopping.”

&&&&&&&

She’d been to Chicago before but only driven through, always on her way to somewhere else. Looking around, she ignored the frigid wind blowing through her inadequate coat, given they’d just flown in from L.A., and savored the lights, the people, the sheer envelopment of a city in a holiday that made the human race seem just a little nicer, a little calmer, a little better.

While Mulder grumbled because he got whacked in the back with a stranger’s gift of golf clubs.

Winding her arm through his, she lay her head on his jacket-encased bicep briefly as she smiled, “glad you stayed in Chicago still?”

“I’ll be better once we find you a bathing suit and that guy gets his clubs home in one piece without trying to kill anyone else.” She then felt him pull her a little closer, “cold?”

“Freezing but I don’t mind … not yet anyway.” With a glance upwards at the store they were walking past, he pulled her inside, bought her a hat, scarf, mittens and a thick, cable-knit sweater big enough to go over her light coat, her thin pullover, two small children and a tiny, independent nation. As he stood out of the way by the door, he gestured for her to take off her coat, which she did so, an incredulous look of ‘really?’ plastered on her face as he took it, draping it over his arm. Then, in a smooth, ‘I’m 5 and going to dress you’ motion, he dropped the sweater over her head, tugging down until her face emerged, hair askew, fuzz in her eyes and smile as wide as her cheeks would allow. His grin equaled her as she wrestled her arms into the sleeves, finally speaking again once she was dressed, “kinda big, isn’t it?”

“I bought it for me and am generously letting you borrow it. You can thank me later.” As he did the same with the mittens, hat and scarf, he declared her ready for the cold, “all set?”

Looking from the thick, Irish-knit, cabled, fisherman sweater to her flimsy, folded coat, “pretty sure I can’t get that back on, no matter how hard I try.”

He immediately began scanning the store, skimming over the employees and customers who had been watching with amusement the entire time, “do you see any winter coats?”

Scully, with embarrassment beginning to creep up her cheeks, simply held open the bag from the store, “just put my coat in here. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ve got enough European sheep wool on me to live through nuclear winter.”

His goofy grin returned and taking her mittened hand in his, he escorted her out of the store, “I’ll expect that back the minute we get home.”

“Sure. Fine. Of course.”

Both knew that wasn’t going to happen but they had a routine so why mess with it.

Soon, they found a shop that, to Scully’s complete surprise, sold bathing suits in December … and fairly cheaply, too. Well, it wouldn’t break her bank account completely but it would bend it well enough. Denying Mulder his request to see the suits modeled, she didn’t even show him which she’d picked and purchased, shooing him to the front of the store to wait. Instead, he headed outside after letting her know, looking in surrounding store windows and ducking in the one next door before returning to his position by the door of the bathing suit place.

The sweater kept her fairly warm, all but when the wind blew its coldest, off the water, making her teeth chatter slightly but not enough to tip Mulder off she wasn’t all toasty. She did, however, stop dead in her tracks when they ambled past a bakery, complete with hot chocolate, cinnamon rolls and cute little table by the window that she bet would make Mulder seem like a giant if she got him to sit down at one. Tugging his sleeve, she pointed inside, the steam collecting at the corners of the front windows and calling to her with the promise of warmth and chocolate and sugar.

Soon, much to her amusement, Mulder was indeed settled at a tiny table with his gigantic cup of cocoa and equally large blueberry Danish, looking, as she had thought previous, like a giant … but a friendly one. He laughed, he joked, he captured both her legs between his on the pretense of warming those skinny, little sticks up with his calves and magical thoughts.

The contact was enough. Magical thoughts would have set her on fire.

They had to leave eventually, however, mostly because the waitress/counter woman kept pointedly looking at them, shooing them with her eyes so she could have their table for the torrent of customers that kept passing through. Bundling back up, they mutually decided to head back towards the hotel, the sun having set and the wind blowing even colder. Scully didn’t balk at the fanciness of the hotel this time, instead talking to the elevator operator and the doorman, laying on easy smiles, friendly banter and perfect Scully charm.

He really should have kissed her in the elevator but he had plans for that for New Years.

If he made it that long.

&&&&&&

Mulder, honest to God, always did bring his swimsuit. Not the Speedo but his normal, to the knees blue-green-yellow suit with the drawstring that never stayed tied. Changing first, he came out of the bathroom with his eyes shut, the Jacuzzi faucet filling the room with a rushing noise that he had to talk loudly over to be heard, “you decent?”

“Depends of how much liquor I’ve had and the company I’m keeping.”

Mulder stumbled, opening his eyes a fraction too late and tripping over what had to be the stupidest placed chair in the history of hotels, “I … um, I meant if you were in your suit yet so I could open my eyes but while on the subject, what kind of company am I?”

Safely in her modest, one-piece suit, she gave him a look that would pass mere mortals by but set Mulder’s heart thudding heavily, his eyes unfocusing for a fraction of a second.

And she knew it, too.

She left him standing in the middle of the room while she retrieved towels, then stepping into the hot water, her cold skin hurting for a moment at the drastic temperature change but settling in, she sighed and shut her eyes, the steam curling her hair instantly.

Mulder thought about baseball while he climbed in across from her, turning the water off when it reached a good depth. The sudden silence pushed on his ears, that stuffy cotton feeling he hated forcing him to speak, “so, that was a really good Danish.”

Scully let out a burst of laughter, nearly sliding under the water in the process but saving herself by stretching her feet to the low seat Mulder was on, then, needing better purchase, she settled her feet against his knees. Finally stable, she looked at him, amusement obvious, “yes, that Danish was very good but I prefer the cinnamon rolls myself.”

Giving her a grin, “I just hate that first few seconds when it goes from loud to quiet. Had to fill in the space.”

She squeezed his knees with her toes, “I know. Just having some fun. Although,” reaching over for the control buttons, “you could have just turned on the bubbles.”

The smile grew wider, “I forgot about those. Sitting in a glorified bathtub with you in our room in Chicago pretty much pushed my brain capacity to its limit.”

As the bubbles began to churn, she reclined back once again, head against the side, “I pretty much stopped thinking when you said we were sharing a room but I never forget bubbles.”

Yes, yes, he was never going to sleep tonight.

&&&&&&&&&&&

He did.

Even after she told him to get his ass in the king size bed because the sofa was bound to be lumpy and she had at least five feet of room he could probably squeeze himself into.

Mulder debated.

He lost.

He jumped in beside her.

And nearly bounced her right out the other side. Giggling an uncharacteristically beautiful giggle, “if you want me out of bed, just ask.”

Wiggling to settle in, he looked up at her from his pillow, “I will never, ever ask you to get out of my bed, trust me.”

“Trust no on, Mulder.”

“You don’t trust me?”

Reaching out to poke him in the cheek, “you didn’t let me finish. There’s a tiny asterisk that you didn’t know about. It says, “Trust No One asterisk except Mulder ‘cause he’s the only one I trust … that and my mother … and possibly the Gunmen depending on the day of the week and how many times Frohike looked at me like I’m Sunday dinner dowsed in gravy.”

“That is a very long asterisk.”

“Very tiny writing.”

Her turn to get comfortable, they lay there in silence for a few minutes before Mulder jumped back up, jiggling the bed once again. Eyeing him in the dark as he dug in first one pocket, then the next of his coat, he pulled out a bag, then got back under the covers, handing it to her, “I bought this for you while you were getting your bathing suit.” Sitting up, she automatically reaching for the nightstand light, he stopped her, “it’ll look better in the dark.”

Intrigued, she opened the bag, then the paper wrapped item inside, finding a small, faceted glass heart that Mulder reached over to turn on at the bottom. Suddenly, the softest red-gold light filled the hollow area, sparkling against her face as she stared, a small smile spreading slowly, never reaching full capacity but stopping at just above amazed. He loved that smile and watching her eyes take in the sparkles and glints, he reached over, running his fingers over her cheek, her chin, fingering one particularly stubborn curl at her temple, playing with the ends of her hair until he let his hand fall back to land on her thigh.

His palm on her leg brought her out of her imagination, which pictured him hanging it on her tree for the next 70 years, their kids, grandkids, great-grand kids opening gifts under while it twinkled above in the branches. Seeing it so clearly made her head spin and turning to him, she leaned in, catching him with a kiss so quick yet so firm against his mouth that when she was gone, he never doubted she’d been there.

He didn’t go back for another but sat staring at her while she stared back, her smile going wider than it had been a moment earlier, “I love it. Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome.”

After gazing for another few seconds, Scully turned the ornament off, setting in on the table beside her, “g’night, Mulder.”

Mulder knew, instinctively and because he wasn’t a complete idiot, that when she snuggled down and left her right hand extended across the mattress that yes, he was supposed to hold it.

So he did.

And watched her until she fell asleep.

While she watched him.