#do you just hit a certain age and become obsessed with watching shit about people getting murdered irl????

[boygirlctommy]

im hashtag breaking the cycle <3

[baecvlt]

Stalker Nagito Komaeda x Milf!Reader

this was requested via my twitter:

“Hey! i’ve seen your works and I’m in love. Can I request smut where a stalker Nagito Komaeda becomes obsessed with a milf reader who moves into the neighborhood who’s like a dom in bed and ya know just large bust and taller than him. Thank youuu🤍”

a/n: ofc. but I have my own idea of a dom which i’ll use involving certain things (heed warnings)

warnings: he is so obviously a virgin in this, degradation, slight masochism, asphyxiation, spit, also Nagito calls the reader mommy (side note: nagito is in his early 20s in this, he lives alone. age of reader isn’t specified BUT I say she’s in her late 20s/early 30s)

• • •

It was a bright day...which Nagito despised. It was summer. He hated the sun, hated the mosquitoes, and the unnecessary humidity. It was days like these he wishes he was back at his university dorm. The A/C, the tall tree covering his window and blocking the sun...it was perfect. Hell, he didn’t even hate classes. Yet, he couldn’t live in the dorms forever. When it came time to buy a home, he stupidly did so in fall, moved in during the winter.

Well, no shit the home seemed perfect then. It wasn’t fucking summer. His A/C decided to break, his windows has a great view of the sun, and most of his friends were out of town (all except Hajime, but Hajime is fucking boring and a bummer). Nagito sat on his couch, watching reruns of old tv shows. He took a sip from his nearby glass (cold water), suddenly hearing sounds of what appeared to be a loading van. He looked outside his window.

A moving van?

Right, that one old man who lived there passed away. Freak accident, by the way. Oh well, may he rest in peace. Meanwhile, Nagito was being himself and trying to see who it was. Pretty much, the dude was being nosy. He saw another car pull up. That must’ve been the family’s car. Out jumped 3 kids, what appeared to be 2 girls and 1 boy. An adult stepped out. Nagito decided he’d get a better look at the situation. He put on his shirt, black jeans, and his green hood.

He was “going for a walk”.

Without being noticed, he made his way to the other side of the street. It was a woman, she was taking boxes out of the truck. The minute Nagito saw her it was if he was stricken by Cupid’s arrow. She was tall and beautiful. Her skin complimented her hair and her legs, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Her breasts...he needed to stop—

“Hi!”

She was in front of him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. “H-Hi,” he muttered. She didn’t hear him well, so it helped that he waved. “I’m new in the neighborhood. We just moved in,” she added, putting the box down. She stuck her hand out, going for a handshake. He shook her hand, her warm hand against his cold ones. Why are his hands always cold? “I see,” he responded, getting his shit together,“I’m Nagito Komaeda. I live across the street”. She introduced herself and complimented his house.

“What a lovely home. I hope the neighborhood is just as lovely”

“It should be. It’s pretty quiet. There’s not many families here. Say, can I help you pack?”

“You’re too sweet! I’d really appreciate it”

He helped take all the boxes in her home, helping load a couch too, and help with other large objects. They finished in 9 hours, taking a majority of the day. “Thanks for helping out, Nagito”. She made a lemonade, handing him a glass.

“Don’t mention it! Also, thank you”

One of the kids ran in the living room where they sat on the couch. He gasped when he saw Nagito. “Mommy! That man looks dead!!!”. Nagito smiled, but his mom was not amused. “Michael! Apologize..”. The kid kept smiling and said,“Sorry!”. He ran to another room. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Nagito shook his head.

“Hey, I’m rather malnourished”

“Ha. On an unrelated topic, are you hungry? I could make us something”

“Oh, I shouldn’t linger any longer. I wouldn’t want to disturb your husband”

She laughed. “I know you mean no harm, but I’m not married,” she added. “Oh,” Nagito muttered,“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it in any way”. She shook her head and reassured him it was fine. “Sit, Nagito,” she pulled out a chair,“I’m not letting you refuse having dinner with us. Especially since you were such help”. She rubbed his back before heading back into the kitchen to begin cooking.

She made him a bowl of pasta, adding chicken on the side. Nagito was quite happy. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in so long. Her kids didn’t eat at the table, but on the counter. Meanwhile, she ate with Nagito. Just as Nagito thought he couldn’t grow fonder of her, he did just that. All she did was let him talk about himself.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about your parents? How are you keeping yourself afloat with university and expenses?”

“Academic scholarships”

“Wow, you’re such a smart boy”

The way she phrased it made him flustered. “Thank you for the meal, ma’am,” he muttered,“I haven’t eaten like this in who knows how long”. She smiled tenderly, picking up his empty plate. “Seconds?”. He shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m already so full”

“I’m glad. You know, there’s always a meal for you in store if you can do me a favor”

“What’s that?”

“My oldest daughter has her final test this week. You think you can help her study? I’ll make you a nice, warm meal every time you come over”

Nagito thought about it. He would also have time around her. Plus, she wasn’t a bad cook. “Of course, I look forward to it,” he told her. “Lovely”. He got up and excused himself to go home. “It was nice having you over, Nagito,” she said softly. He could tell she was getting sleepy. When people are tired, Nagito has noticed that their tone is rather sheepish. She walked him to the door, ruffling his hair playfully and he blushed. “Goodnight, neighbor”.

“Goodnight, you”

Before he left, she stopped him and handed him a paper: (xxx) xxx-xxxx ♡

“Call me when you get home so I have your number saved. Then, I can call you when my daughter, Vanessa, needs help. Take care, okay?”

He nodded.

She closed the door, his thoughts racing on his way home. He picked up some things about her, things she didn’t even tell him. He went home and opened a notebook, writing all of it down. He called her and she answered, her voice as sweet as when he left (only sleepier). “Hello?”. His breath was heavy without realizing it as he spoke. “H-Hey, you told me to call you,” he breathed,“It’s Nagito...Komaeda”

“Oh, hey, angel! I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“What? No, it’s all good— why’d you think so?”

“You sound like you need to catch your breath, but anyway, thanks for calling me. I’ve saved your number now”

“Oh, great! Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you go to bed now”

“It was. Goodnight, Nagito”

“G-Goodnight”

He hung up, flustered more than ever as he continued to jot down his thoughts on paper. The next day, he woke up at 6am to wait in his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. At around 7:41am, his front neighbor and kids headed for their car. Nagito, who had taken a light nap in the driver’s seat, was awoken by the car starting. He waited for the car to drive away just slightly past his house to start his own car, slowly tailing behind her.

He dropped her kids off at the nearby elementary. She got off, kissed them on their forehead (all minus the eldest, who walked swiftly through the gates). Seeing how she cared for them made Nagito feel bad, but all he did was brush that feeling off. Next, he followed her through her daily. As he did, his notes from last night echoed through his mind, adding new detail.

“She works at an office not everyday She doesn’t have allergies but is sensitive to dust Red seems to be her favorite color but always in a darker shade Her daughter is around 10 years old She isn’t vegan but enjoys almond milk Maybe has an issues with abandonment but I can’t assume that either She buys many apples but not the same amount of bananas at the store so maybe she only eats the bananas—”

Just more to add to his notebook.

He got home before she did, writing down what he had learned. His phone rang about an hour later of him getting home. He picked it up,“Hello?”. “Nagito, hi!”. It was her. He started having a mini-panic attack, because why would she be calling him? “H-Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I was wondering if you could come over and tutor Vanessa”

Oh, thank god.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be down there right now”

“Great. See you then!”

He was relieved, heading to her home happily. He knocked on the door. When she opened it, she did so with the same warm smile as yesterday. “Thank you for coming over,” she said,“She’s in her room”. Nagito nodded, freezing when she grabbed his hand and took him to the room. Her touch was so soft, noted. They got to the room, where a girl was reading a book on a desk. “Nessa?”. The girl turned around.

“Nagito is going to be here for a few hours to help you out with homework and studying. He’s really smart, so pay attention and be respectful”

“Okay, mom”

She nodded, squeezing Nagito’s shoulder before leaving. Nagito approached the girl, she took her things out. Before he could speak, she stopped him. “Please don’t call me ‘Nessa’,” she whispered,“It’s bad enough my mom does, but not you, Please”.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on referring to you at all”

“Bastard”

“Nessa”

“I guess I walked right into that one”

Nagito laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting next to her. Her work wasn’t what he expected. Is this what they’re teaching kids now? He could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen this type of stuff until he hit middle school. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, but damn. All in all, tutoring went well. Vanessa actually learned something today. “Good job!,” he said. “Thank you,” she smiled and hugged him,“I felt so stupid”.

“Hey, its okay not to understand things”

Her mom walked in. “Dinner’s ready”. Vanessa got up and went to the kitchen. “How’d it go?,” she asked Nagito. “Went well, she gets the math now,” he answered. She smiled, thanking him for his help and asking him to join them for dinner. He’d be foolish not to, so he accepted the invite.

Fish tacos were served tonight with rice and beans, another lemonade made. It was different than anything Nagito had ever had, but that doesn’t equate to bad. He actually enjoyed the meal. The kids sat at the main table today, much more respectful than yesterday. “Michael how was school?”. He put a thumbs up, getting back to eating. “And Adrianna?”. She looked up from her meal and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”.

“I’m tired, but class was okay”

“Oh, okay. When you’re done, just take a quick shower and get to bed”

“Thanks”

Nagito thought it was endearing. Seeing how understanding and loving she was, it was refreshing. The kids all eventually left, Nagito finishing his meal. “Did you like it?”. He looked at her, nodding. “Great! Seconds?”.

“Full again. I don’t usually eat, but your food is always so good”

“Oh, you’re just saying things...”

“No, really! Thank you”

He said his goodbyes to the family, walking back home. It was as if he was falling for this woman more and more everyday. He went to sleep, this time dreaming of her. He never dreams, but this time he dreamt she was on her knees for him. Then, nothing else. It was as if his dream teased him.

The next morning, he woke up to some knocking on the door. He looked at the time. 8:23am. He put on a pair of jeans and his shirt, walking to his door. He opened it and there she stood, wearing a black dress and red heels. He assumed she had work and needed a favor before going. “Good morning,” he said.

“Were you following me yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh...,” he didn’t know what to answer. He was indeed following her yesterday. He also liked her, so if he straight up said that he was to following her, it’d ruin things. His face was glowing a shade of pink to a slight red as he thought of the right answer. He was still stumbling over his words. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she added. The fuck? “Huh?”. She pushed him inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “When a boy follows someone around, it’s because he wants something,” she added, but her tone was so sultry,“Well, Nagito—”. She pushed him onto the couch, leaning in front of him with her hands on his chest.

“—What do you want?”

None of what was happening felt real. Nagito couldn’t find the words to express what exactly he wanted. This was the first time he’d ever been in a situation like this, it wasn’t a bad one either. He began to panic when she straddled him. “Could it be that you wanted me?,” she asked. He frantically nodded and she laughed as she locked her lips with his. He gasped against her lips, kissing back. She slowly trailed her kisses down to his neck, cupping his jaw while grinding on his lap. Nagito moaned, his shaky hands grabbing her ass. She grabbed his hands and put them away from her. “It’s cute that you’re getting this carried away”.

“I’m sorry”

“No time to apologize. Get on your knees for mommy”

Nagito was about to lose his mind when she said that, but he obeyed. Her presence was domineering as he stood on his knees against his carpeted floor. She spread her legs, noticing Nagito desperately trying to get a look. Her red heel stopped him, stepping on his head lightly. “Am I teasing you?,” she asked,“It’s okay to be honest”.

“Y-You are, but its okay. I want to be teased by you”

“You’re adorable,” she took her heel off his head,“Let’s go to your room”.

He practically ran to his bed. He sat and waited patiently. She entered the room, heading to his bed. She began to take off his shirt, admiring his frame. She then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He kicked them off and sat down. She sat next to him. “Give me your hands”. She held them, frowning slightly. “Boo, they’re so cold,” she teased,“I’ll warm them up for you”. Carefully, she grabbed his left hand, putting his middle and ring finger in her mouth. She licked to his fingertips, leaving him tense and speechless. She stopped and smiled at him.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded shyly. “Don’t be shy,” she said,“I’m going to guide you, but I’m also going to have my fun”. He gulped, nodded. She stood up and removed her dress. She wore a lacy black bra and panties. She brought his hands to her breasts, allowing him to fondle them. They were huge in his hands. “You like them, baby?”. “Y-Yes,” he muttered,“Can you, uh, take....the bra off?”. He was ashamed when asking, he felt desperate. She smiled and nodded, unhooking it and allowing the bra to fall to the ground. He gasped at the sight of her tits, grabbing them. She straddled him.

“Do you know what to do with them?”

He nodded, rubbing one and sucking the other. She moaned sweetly, grinding on his lap. He popped his mouth off them. That was when she took the opportunity to knock him onto the bed. She began to make out with him, shoving his tongue down her throat. They lay sideways. Her hand was on his neck, slightly choking him. He couldn’t resist but try to grind on her lap. She laughed. “Look at you,” she mocked,“Humping my leg like a desperate little puppy”. She didn’t let him speak, sitting up and pushing him back down. “I’m going to give you what you want,” she whispered in his ear,“Take your cock out”.

He was nervous as he did, hands shaky. She blushed a bit at his size. “It’s so big,” she said, straddling him,“I’m going to have my way with it”. “Please, do what you want to me,” he begged,“Abuse me, please”. She didn’t speak, sinking down on it. Nagito gasped, she was extremely wet. She began to bring her hips up and land straight down on it, repeatedly. She put her hands around his throat, now being rougher. Nagito gasped for air, grabbing her hands.

That was a mistake.

“Hands down,” she ordered, striking him across the face. “Sorr-”. He was slapped once again. “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. He nodded as his stomach began to cave in. His cock twitched each time she slapped him, making her moan. She leaned forward, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He winced, his hands tangling in the sheets. He felt as though his entire body was blushing.

“You’re so sensitive there”

She teased him, kissing the skin and nibbling. His hips involuntarily snapped upward, making her whine. “You’re so desperate, baby,” she laughed,“it’s so cute”. He could feel her warmth running along his cock. He bit into his hand, trying to stop himself from cumming inside her. It worked, but she didn’t like him doing that. She grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, put them right here”

She placed them on her boobs. He watched them bounce up and down, grabbing them gently. His rather large hands seemed small on her tits. He was extremely flushed. He took them off her and placed them on her hips. “Open your mouth”. He lay back more and did as he was told. She leaned forward, grabbing his jaw again as she spit into it and kissed him. He moaned when she did, his urges getting the best to him and thrusting upward. He hit her cervix every time, causing her to produce the sweetest and sluttiest of moans. Her walls tightened around him and now he was whining. “Are you gonna cum, honeybun?,” she asked.

“Y-Yes..”

“Where do you wanna cum?”

“I wanna cum...everywhere. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna cum inside and on your tits, on your ass, y-your face..mouth. Please let me cum, mommy”

She motivated him, riding him harder. “Come on, Nagito,” she whispered,“Cum for mommy. Cum all the way inside her”. He lost his mind after that, groaning as he shot his load(s) inside her. He was still inside her as he tried catching his breath. She rubbed his chest, shushing him. “Good boy, you did so well,” she cooed,“Such a good boy.” He was covering his face, embarrassed and still hard. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?,” she asked. He shook his head, thinking,“Not rough enough”. He whined when she got off, revealing he was still erect. She noticed.

“You wanna go again, baby? Kids don’t leave school till 2:30. We have time for an extra fuck”

“C-Can I?”

“Yes, dummy”

She let Nagito choose how to fuck her. He wanted missionary, mostly because he craved intimacy and she did not disappoint. She kissed and praised him, telling him he was good. She held onto him the whole time and cuddled him afterwards. Nagito felt so special, he felt loved. “I can come over when I don’t have work,” she said,“Would you like that?”.

“I’d love that actually”

“You make me happy, Nagito. I could stay here and cuddle all day”

“I feel so lucky”

He yawned, looking at the clock. “Its 10,” he told her. She nuzzled his chest, humming. “Mmmm, let’s take a small nap,” she whispered,“Okay?”. “Okay”. He kissed the top of her head and held her to him, slowly joining her in slumber.

[voxmortuus]

A-Z Will Graham Kinks/Fetishes

UNIVERSE: Hannibal (NBC)

SUMMARY/PROMPT: Prompt from a lovely anon: ok so i was wondering what your headcanon is for will graham’s kinks? like, no one can tell me that that boy did came out of prison mid-season 2 Not wanting to do some seriously wild shit.

TW: KINKS

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THIS GIF. If this is your gif or you know who the creator is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

My Masterlist | Taglist | REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

Now, not all is receiving, some of it is giving. Under the cut are fetishes/kinks I feel Will Graham secretly has before and after his breakout. Under the cut you will find an A-Z list of Kinks and Fetishes that Will Graham may have. I went off of this list: Kink/Fetish List

A

Abduction as seduction: a kink where the abductor/kidnapper treats the victim in a loving manner

Acarophilia: arousal from scratching. Scratching is often an element incorporated into rough sex.

Accidental stimulation: refers to accidental physical stimulation and situations that arouse adrenaline and cause arousal.

Agalmatophilia: a person with this fetish is aroused by statues, mannequins or other figurative representations. This may be related to Pygmalionism, an attraction to items of one’s own creation.

Age play: role play in which one or both partners pretends to be a different age/stage. Types of age play include infantilism, Daddy/daughter play, and diaper play, among others. Some kinksters differentiate between DD/lg and age play.

Agoraphilia: fetish dedicated to sex in public places.

Amaurophilia: kink for being unable to see, blinded or blindfolded during sex.

Anal sex: both giving and receiving anal sex can be a kink or fetish.

Asphyxiation: a highly dangerous kink dedicated to choking, smothering and strangulation. Autoerotic asphyxiation is self-choking. To be clear, asphyxiation is very dangerous and has led to injuries and deaths.

B

Begging: kink for begging and pleading (to have sex, for release/orgasm, to perform an act, etc.). Begging is submissive in nature.

Bondage: restraint of a person, either by physical item (cuffs, rope, etc.) or instruction (known as mental bondage). Restraint can be full-body (vacuum beds, suspension) or involve a single body part such as the eyes (blindfold), mouth (ball gag), wrists or even thumbs. Bondage may include furniture and devices.

Breath play: choking and limiting breath.  Being aroused by this is known as hypoxyphilia  This kink is a type of edge play that is dangerous.

Breast/nipple torture: the breast equivalent of CBT. Torture may include hitting, pinching, bondage, and other methods of inflicting pain onto breasts.

C

Caning: the act of hitting someone with a rod known as caning.  Fleshy areas such as the back of the thighs and butt are advised, but some people enjoy caning the bottoms of feet. Canes are traditionally made from wood, but modern canes may be made from plastic, metal or other semi-flexible materials. Caning is a form of impact play that is more extreme than typical flogging and may be dangerous if done improperly.

Clothed sex (endytophilia): the affinity for sex while fully or partially clothed. You can enjoy this kink while lifting your skirt or dress, so your man penetrates you. Pushing underwear to the side can also be a form of this fetish.

Cock worship: similar to breast worship. This fetish involves verbal, physical and mental adoration of a penis – including fake ones (strap-ons).

Consensual nonconsent: situations where one or both parties have given prior consent for activities that may appear to be or actually involve nonconsent.

Cunnilingus: this kink can be geared towards receiving oral sex as a woman or giving it either as a man or woman. Cunnilingus plays well with pussy worship.

D

Degradation: if you like when your man talks down to you during sex, you might be into degradation. This is one of those kinks that works especially well with domination and submission. Just because you like doing it (giving or receiving) during sex doesn’t mean you think any less of your partner.

E

Edge play: Any kink or fetish that is considered more risky or extreme. Examples include choking, breath play, knife play, fire play, and any activity that results in bleeding.

Enkuopoiphilia: fetish for impregnation. AKA: Breeding Kink

Exhibitionism: a common fetish for being naked and performing sexually in front of a person or persons. Masturbating for your partner is a mild form of this kink, but performing in sex windows or at BDSM shows and parties is a safe way to explore this fetish. Sex in public is partly exhibitionism. Related to agrexophilia, which is arousal when other people know about your sexual activities, and autagonistophilia, exposing oneself while on stage and being photographed. The counterpart of voyeurism.

F

Face slapping: a slap across the face brings you to attention and corrects your mistakes.

Furries: this kink is hot, literally. Furries dress as animals or humanoid animal creatures, sometimes decked head-to-toe in fur. They often don animalistic dildos via strap-ons to enhance their furry play. Many furries engage in roleplay and cosplay as part of their lifestyle, which can become quite expensive.

G

Gags: a form of mouth bondage. Gags come in many forms, but ball gags are the most common. They may also take the form of bit, cleave, pacifier, penis or spider gag, among others.

H

Haematomania aka hematolagnia : lust for blood and bleeding. May include wounds, vampirism or biting to draw blood. It goes without saying that this one is obviously quite dangerous.

I

Imprisonment: obsession with being locked inside cages, cells, coffins or other areas.

J

No Kink

K

Knife play: a type of edge play activity that involves actual knives or blades or the implication of. Breaking someone’s skin during kinky sex could be quite dangerous.

L

No Kink

M

Masochism: enjoyment of pain, punishment, and torture. Someone who feels this is known as a masochist.

Menophilia: an obsession with menstrual blood. Fetishists of this type don’t mind period sex. In fact, they may prefer it. And they might like going down on a woman when she has her period.

N

Narratophilia: a fetish shared by those who enjoy telling and listening to dirty stories, talking about sex or incorporating dirty talk into sex.

O

Odaxelagnia: kink for biting or being bitten. May or may not involve blood.

Orgasm denial: type of play where someone’s orgasm is denied entirely, limited/ruined or delayed.

P

Pet play: any kink where someone acts like a domesticated pet. Cats and dogs are especially common with leashes, collars and food/water dishes used as props.

Q

Quirofilia: fetish for hands. Some people fetishize certain parts of the hand such as the fingers or fingernails. Others may prefer hands of a certain size or shape. Still others with this fetish may enjoy seeing hands performing certain actions. It could be masturbation or something nonsexual such as washing the dishes.

R

Ropework: a kink for rope as used as the specific type of bondage.

S

Sadism: the kink for providing pain. Masochists and sadists often come together to meet one another’s kinky needs.

Sensation play: a light kink where partners exchange sensations on the skin. Items with different textures (soft, hard, bumpy, smooth, cold, hot, etc) can be run across the skin.

Sensory deprivation: any play that prevents someone from using one of their five senses. Blindfolds block sight, gloves prevent touch, earmuffs deprive the sense of hearing, etc.

Somnophilia: the fetish for sexual partners who are asleep.Spanking: this is a fetish that many people have tried in the bedroom. A firm hand comes into play as punishment or enticement in many power exchange relationships.

Suspension: the practice of suspending someone from the ground or being suspended yourself. Suspension can be accomplished with ropes, harnesses and other devices and items.

T

No Kink

U

No Kink

V

Voyeurism: a kink for watching someone else while naked or engaged in sexual activity. Voyeurs and exhibitionists make excellent pairings.

W

Wax play: using wax during sex. Wax comes in the form of massage candles, which are relatively safe. But other types of wax may have a higher melting point and be more dangerous. Flames used to melt wax also pose a risk.

X

No Kink

Y

No Kink

Z

No Kink

[harry-styles-sunflower]

Wandering Hands Part 1

Hellooo everyone! I hope you are all having a lovely day! SO this is Part 1 of Wandering Hands. 

What it is: You and Harry become friends but you come with certain baggage that might make any other man run. 

Word count: 6.2k 

Warning: death and angst? (lmk if i forgot one!) 

Pls reblog if you like it :) Thanks in advance for the support! 

~~~

It was a long day after work and you had no one but yourself to worry about tonight. It was Friday, you were at Joe’s, the bar across your apartment. You’d come in regularly. Only about every other weekend. You were drinking your troubles away with a Manhattan. The bar wasn’t too full, it was only happy hour. You heard the bell ding behind you meaning someone walked in. Some man approached the bar as you finished your drink.

“Hello, can I get a glass of your most recommended wine?” You felt him look over at you, ��and a refill on whatever she’s having” he paid Joe and sat a stool away from you.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to” you slid your glass away from you.

“No problem, I wanted to” you nodded and watched the tv. Joe served you your Manhattan and the man his wine. You knew it was a glass of his Château Cheval-Blanc because you had had it yourself once. 4 years ago.

“You know, I never understood baseball too much.”

You drank your drink and looked at him from the corner of your eye. Was he talking to you or Joe? You looked around you and you were the only one close enough to hear him and Joe was busy.

“It’s a good sport if you understand it” you shrugged.

“Care to explain it to me?” He moved to the stool next to you.

You swallowed your drink and looked at the screen. You had no interest in getting a good look at the man next to you anyway.

“English?”

“Precisely.”

“The Red Sox and Yankees played in London a few years ago.”

“Wasn’t home.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah”

“Well Um. 9 innings, 3 strikes you’re out. Guy on the circle in the middle? That’s called a mound. His position is a pitcher- “

“Isn’t that what you guys pour juice out of?”

“Yeah we use the same word for a lot of things, don’t interrupt,” he smiled at you, “he’s a pitcher. He throws to the guy across him, the catcher. Catcher signals him what kind of ball to throw in between his legs. He does it based off the batter’s weakness. There’re 4 bases. 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and home. When the batter hits it, he hopes no one in the outfield catches it or it gets out of park. If they catch it while it was in the air he’s out, if they catch it after it’s hit the ground he can run as fast as he can to whatever base is available. But like in order. Oh, also if someone in the outfield catches the ball, they’re gonna throw it to one of the basemen so they can tag the batter running. But if the batter touches the base before they’re tagged then they’re safe.”

He nodded along so you knew he was listening.

“Can I ask a question now?”

You nodded and sipped your drink.

“How do you know it’s a strike?”

“Oh, my bad. See the box on the screen? If it gets in there it’s a strike. Outside the box it’s a no ball but we usually just say ball.”

He nodded and gestured to your drink, “refill?”

“Oh no, I’m good. I need water” He ordered one for you and Joe gave you a knowing look and you just shook your head at him. You two were basically friends now. He’d gotten to know you over the past 4 years. You lived across the street for 5 but you came in 4 years ago. Joe came and gave you your water and you drank it slowly and watched the game. It was Yankees v. Red Sox. The Red Sox made a homer and you shook your head.

“Yankees fan?”

“Yep. We’re in New York. Kind of against the law to be anything else.”

He laughed and sipped his wine. He hadn’t drunken much, he gave you all his attention while you spoke. “My dad was a big Yankee fan. I’ve been one since the day I was born. My mom says she pushed me out and when the doctor put me in her arms the Yankees had won the game. We used to go to a game like every year when I was a kid.”

“Are they as fun as they seem?”

“Even better. During the commercials on tv, sometimes the outfield players play catch with the people on the side or they play a video of the players talking or play a game with the crowd”

“That’s pretty cool,” he put his hand in front of you, “I’m Harry by the way”. You looked at his hand and put yours in it and shook it.

“Y/n” you looked over at him. You finally took a good look at his face. He was gorgeous you couldn’t deny it. He had strong facial features. Short stubble and green eyes. They were bright. Different than your own dark eyes. He made eye contact with you for a few seconds before you turned back to the screen and drank your water.

“If you’re from England, are you here for business or pleasure?” It was New York, people came and went. Travelled. But in your small town about 30 minutes north from the city, no one really came through here unless they knew someone.

“I uh I’ve been here for about a year but I just moved to the area recently. Got a little tired of the city life, but didn’t want to be too far. I work as an editor at Simon & Schuster.”

“Wow. That’s a good job. Hell of a commute I assume?”

“About 1 hour every morning. It’s worth it. Sleep without the sound of horns or sirens”

“True.”

He turned on his stool to face you and you faced him. Your knees were touching.

“So, what do you do?”

“Teach. I’m a teacher. 7th grade social studies. Actually, I taught the Boston Tea party today” you smirked at him and put one arm up on the bar and leaned against your hand and one hand on your knee. Some fingers accidentally touched his knee but your knees were touching. You couldn’t prevent it from happening

“Ahh” he moved a pointed finger at you. You laughed and so did he. He had dimples. Cute. “Such a petty thing if you ask me” he shrugged.

You laughed and shook your head.

“A lot of history is petty.”

“Do you like teaching?” He put himself in the same position as you, his fingers brushing yours too.

“I guess. I love my kids and filling their minds with knowledge but the standards and requirements are a pain in the ass”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that. Not too much freedom”

“Yeah. Like if I want to take them to a museum, I need to find a standard that validates that museum will teach them according to that standard”

“Wow. The museums here are basically free too right?”

“Yep.”

He shakes his head and sips his drink.

“It’s been like an hour and you’re still drinking your wine”

“Well Ms. Judgey, it’s a good wine. I’m savoring it.”

“It is good. I’ve had it. And I’m not judgey. I was just saying it must be warm now.”

“Eh. It’s still chill. Thanks for caring though” he grinned at you.

You rolled your eyes and finished your water.

“When did you have it?”

“Huh?”

“The wine”

“Oh, um four years ago”

“That’s precise”

“It was on an anniversary of something.”

“Wedding anniversary?” He laughed.

“Death anniversary actually.” His face stilled and he became pale.

“Shit I’m so sorry for laughing.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Shouldn’t have assumed.”

You saw him looking at you like he wanted to know who it was but would never dare to ask. You debated telling him. You turned back towards the screen, leaving his knees cold. He felt he had lost any chance he thought he had with you. He liked talking to you.

“Joe, jack and coke please”

He nodded and brought it to you. You chugged it down. Harry put his head in his hands. He had driven you to drink. Yikes.

“It was my husband. He died.”

He lifted his head from his hands and looked over at you. You were a widow. You looked so young. He felt bad you had to go through such pain.

“I’m sorry for your loss”

“Thanks. It was 5 years ago. I’m alright”

He nodded. Too scared to say the wrong thing.

“He was in the service. Died in Iraq.”

“Oh wow…” he was surprised you were opening up to him. Perhaps it was the liquid courage.

“Came with the territory, I guess. We were together for 10 years. Married for 5. Widowed for 5 now. If you’re trying to do the math we were high school sweethearts. Started at 15. Married at 20. He died at 25. Yes, I’m 30.” You drank your leftover water.

“Erm… Wow. Well you look good” he was nervous.

You laughed lightly and said thanks.

“Guess I scared you away now didn’t I?”

“No no! Not at all I just don’t want to fuck up and say the wrong thing.”

“Harry it’s been 5 years I’m good. I’m religious, I coped well”

“Oh okay.”

“Stop being nervous!” You laughed.

“I can’t help it!” He laughed lightly.

“I’ve got a big curveball for you,” you turned to face him and you put your hands on his shoulders as he faced you.

“I see what you did there. Curveball” he tilted his head toward the tv.

“Ooh yeah. I didn’t even notice. Well are you ready?”

“I think?”

“I have a son.”

It was what he thought. Didn’t know if he fully expected it though.

“Okay. Curveball caught? Strike? What’s the big deal?”

“Wait what? You’re not thrown off?” You were shocked. His face barely twitched or showed any surprised expression.  

“No?” He shrugged. “It’s a child. I guess I kind of expected maybe something after you said you were together for 10 years.” He finished his wine.

“Fair enough.”

“So, where is he? If you’re here”

“In-laws. They take him every other weekend. Or just from Friday till Saturday.”

“You get along with them?”

You shrugged. “I think they thought I wanted him to sign up for the force. I didn’t. Obviously. It’s a death sentence. I just wanted to support my boyfriend at the time,” He nodded as you spoke, “but they love Sam and are always there for him”

“Sam huh?”

“Samuel. He’s 7”

“Good age”

“Yeah. He’s a lil sarcastic but I blame myself. I could be that way so he’s only doing what he’s learned. But he’s really smart. He’s obsessed with rocks. Been that way since he could walk”

“That’s cute I won’t lie”

“Thanks” you laughed. You liked his company. He was easy to talk to. You had found it easy to open up. He didn’t seem creepy either. Like he just wanted to get in your pants.

“Well it’s been lovely boys, but I have a little boy I have to be up for in the morning. His grandma wants to have brunch”

You stood up and so did Harry.

“Wait let me walk you to your car.”

You lived across the street but he didn’t have to know that. Joe hid his smile when you said “okay”. Harry paid Joe for both of your tabs and walked out with you. It wasn’t too late, 6 pm. You walked to your car and his was coincidentally in front of yours.

“So um. It was nice meeting you. I enjoyed your company”

You fiddled with your keys and looked up at him.

“Yeah I did too.” you said.

“Would it be too forward if I asked for your number?” he was biting the inside of his cheek, you could tell.

Guys had hit on you before. But the wounds were too fresh and Sam was too young. He’s still young but he’s smart, and he knows some days you feel lonely. As much as you convinced him that he was the only man you needed he knew the truth. You liked his company and conversations. So, you said,

“I don’t think so,” you held your hand out for his phone and he placed it in your hand. You put your number in as “y/n 🥃🍷”. Ball was in his court now.

“Cute” you both laughed.

“I’ll text you” he said

“Mhm” yeah. Sure.

“Are you gonna get in your car?”

“Oh, it’s fine you don’t have to wait” please don’t make me get in my car. I live here.  

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t wait until you at least got in to your car?”

Okay you were a little impressed. Fair enough.

“Very true actually. Well bye, Harry”

“Nuh uh. It’s see you soon. I’m serious about texting you”

“Okay” you laughed and got in your car.

He got in his and you waited for him to pull out.

 Once he was past the traffic light you got out and went up to your apartment. You called Sam’s grandma the second you got in. He picked up with an ecstatic voice.

“Hi ma!”

“Hi baby, how are you? Everything okay?”

“Yeah! We’re bowling. I’ve gotten 2 strikes!”

“Oh wow. Look at you!”

“Grandpa says dad was good at bowling”

Your heart broke just a little. It bothered you a little when they spoke about him to Sam. You knew he was their son but they didn’t know how much Sam cried sometimes wishing he got to know his dad. You only spoke about him when Sam asked about him or mentioned him.

“Yeah he was actually. When we were younger, we went on a date and he won one round and I won the other. But we were too broke to buy another round so we left it a tie” you laughed at the memory. Just 15-year-old kids.

“You were broken?”

“No sorry hon, I mean we didn’t have enough money to pay for another round”

“Ohh okay.” You forgot sometimes Sam was only seven because he was so smart sometimes.

“Yeah. Well can you put your grandma on for me hon?”

“Yeah okay. I can stay over?”

“Yeah of course. As long as you want to and don’t feel forced to okay?” You knew sometimes he didn’t want to because of how much they spoke about his dad. On those weekends you faked he had a tummy ache.

“Yeah okay. Here’s grandma��� he passed the phone to your in-law. You could never say ex. Your husband wasn’t an ex.

“Hello?” Her tone was already unwelcoming.

“Hey, just wanted to confirm we’re still on for 11?”

“Yeah. I haven’t cancelled.” Translation: did I tell you we weren’t going?

“Okay. Sounds great. See you there”

“Okay” she hung up.

“Yeah okay bye. Geez” you slammed your phone on the table and rubbed your temples. She was always so rude to you. When he died, she said it was your fault he left. She apologized for that but it was still something she said. You can’t take words back. You left your phone on the table and went to shower. You just wanted to take a warm shower, relax your muscles, wear some cozy pajamas, drink some tea, and watch friends until you fell asleep. Friends never did you wrong. So that’s what you did. You remember to set your alarm for tomorrow but you also remembered you left your phone on your kitchen table. With a groan because you found the position and you knew you wouldn’t find it again, you got up and got your phone. You saw you had a text from a random number. When you unlocked your phone, the message said

H: Hey, it’s Harry.

You felt bad for making him wait but whatever.

Y/n: hey

You got back into bed, not finding the position again and kept your phone next to you. Your phone lit up about a minute or two later.

H: what’s up? Did you get home safe?

Y/n: oh yeah. Thanks. You?

H: Yeah, I did thanks. So, what’s up?

Y/n: watching friends, you?

H: Same actually. Nick@nite?

Y/n: Yup 😂

H: I’m happy they play this. Especially since Netflix took friends off.

Y/n: Same. Friends is like my bedtime story now. I watch it every night

H: favorite character?

Y/n: I think it depends the season? Like I love Ross in season 9 and I love the rest. I couldn’t pick

H: I agree.

H: Would you want to FaceTime?

You thought about it. Did you want to?

H: We don’t have to if you don’t want to. (Sorry for the spam of messages btw)

You laughed at the last bit.

Y/n: we can FaceTime :)

“Harry would like FaceTime…” you slid your finger across the screen.

“Hello”

“Hey” he smiled into the camera.      

“You look cozy” he was wearing a brown robe thing w a hood from what you could see.

“Ooh I am,” he looked up at the tv, “why are birth control commercials so odd?”

They were playing a commercial for lo loestrin fe and the cartoon bought what was supposed to be lingerie and was showing her boyfriend you assume.

“I hated that pill. It was the worst one I’ve ever tried”

“Really?”

“Yeah it made me gain weight and tons of acne”

“It sucks that all that comes with just trying to prevent pregnancy”

“Yeah. You males have it so lucky”

“Well if they came out with a male one, I’d take it”

You laughed a little too loud.

“You think you’d be able to remember?”

“I’d just take it in the morning. Like a vitamin”

You noticed the way he pronounced vitamin. It was a little different. Cute different.

“I used to take mine at night, just before bed. It was easier that way for me”

He nodded at you and the show had come back. You think that maybe that whole conversation was TMI for your first FaceTime call. The episode The One in Barbados. You both laughed at Monica’s hair.

“Kind of didn’t like the whole Joey and Rachel plot line” He said while looking at the tv screen. It was like you guys were together in the same room and his company was nice on this lonely night.

“Yeah same. It was wack” he laughed at that.

“I think I love phoebe”

“Same, Regina Phalange”

“It’s actually princess consuela bananahammock.” He said with a straight face. You cracked up at his little joke and kept watching the tv.

 A few hours later and friends was over. You and Harry were basically playing 21 questions.

“any pets?” You asked.

“Nah, I work too long” you nodded.

“Favorite flower?”

“Sunflowers or tulips”

“Interesting choices”

“Thank you” you smiled. You were now in bed laying down against your pillow, “do you live in a house?”

“Yeah. Small but yeah”

“I used to, but a year after he died, I had to sell it. I like the small space better. It’s more homelike for just us 2”

He nodded and listened. “What time is lunch with your in law?”

You liked how he didn’t say ex in laws. It was a small thing but you noticed.

“11:00”

“Oh okay”

“Yeah”

“Y/n, um. I’d like to take you out. On a proper date. But I know you’re probably really busy. So, um do you think you could let me know when you’re free? If you wanted to go out on a date with me that is”

“Yeah sure” you bit back your smile. You had never done this before. Well not after your husband. It would be your first date in 5 years. You just got a good feeling from Harry.

“Oh okay” he was a little shocked.

“If not this week, then the next. Maybe Friday”

“Yeah that’s good with me”

“Well uh, I’m gonna go to sleep Harry. It was nice meeting you today”

“Yeah it was for me too, meeting you. Goodnight. Sweet dreams”

“Yeah thank you. Goodnight” you smiled and hung up. You felt giddy and happy. You looked at your bedside table and it was a picture of you on your wedding day staring back at you. You knew he would want you to move on already. You smiled and contently fell asleep.

~~~

You woke up around 9:45 to give yourself enough time to get ready. It was nice being able to sleep in a bit. Sam was always up by 8. You remembered your conversation with Harry last night. You haven't had a conversation like that in years. You'd just recently decided that you'd be open for a relationship but you weren't on any dating apps or anything either. Going with the flow you guess. You got ready quickly and drove to the restaurant where you were meeting your boy and your in-laws. You stepped out your car and so did they. Sam looked around before running to you. You opened your arms for him and he hugged you tight.

"Ugh my baby I missed you so much last night!" you kissed his forehead.

"I missed you too ma," he kissed your cheek.

You picked him up and spun him around making you both giggle.

"y/n", your mother in law said.

"Lydia, how are you?" She held her purse in front of her as you put Sam down.

"I'm good, you?"

"Good."

Your father in law approached you. He was quieter and more reserved. The loss of his son hit him hard. The two were close. He did watch out for you a bit more than Lydia. Lydia's priority was Sam, William's priorities were you and Sam.

"Hi William, how are you?"

He gave you a hug and you guys walked into the restaurant.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Good, thank you."

You guys got settled into a booth and you already knew what you all wanted. This wasn’t the first time.

"Sam told me his science teacher is being hard on him," Lydia spoke without looking away from you. She was looking at your clothes and makeup. Seeing if it was up to her standards.

"Yes, he told me too. I already told him what to do."

"And what was that?" Here we go. Here's the thing. Lydia was your husband's mother. When he passed, she wanted to be her grandson's mother as well.

You held in a sigh before speaking. "I told him to work hard during school but if she specifically targets him repeatedly to let me know and I'll handle it."

She nodded and stayed quiet. Thank God.

"Mami, your phone vibrated," Also, your husband was Italian. You were Hispanic so you were trying to teach Sam some of his Hispanic side as his grandparents taught him mostly his Italian side. They more so taught him stuff about the culture and food, but none of the language. They swore they knew it but you've never heard them speak it.

"Thank you for letting me know mijo, but since we're all together I'll check it later." you kissed his head.

You and your husband had done a good job. He was a perfect mix from both of you. He had brown curly hair, like you. Hazel eyes like his dad. Dark eyelashes like you. A button nose like his dad that was covered in freckles like yours. Plump lips like the both of you. The food came and you all began eating.

"We wanted to talk to you about something." you felt Sam put his hand on your knee. Uh oh. He was preparing you for something he knew you may not like.

"Okay, what is it?"

William spoke up, "Well, winter break is coming up and we wanted to take Sam away for a week."

You almost choked on your food. A week? Them? With your son? Were they insane? Okay maybe you were being a little dramatic but what?!

"Um, where?" you tried to seem open about the idea.

"Blue mountain. We would go snow tubing and other things in the snow." Lydia said.

"For a week? Snow tubing for a week? That sounds more like a weekend thing to me." you ate your eggs.

"Well we would look in the town for other things to do obviously," Lydia snickered like you had sounded ridiculous. She better not start with an attitude you thought. She was asking you for a favor not the other way around. So instead of giving her a direct answer, you said "I'll think about it." You needed to talk to Sam if this was something he wanted to do or they wanted to do.

You guys had finished eating and you all eventually said goodbye. Sam wanted to come back home instead of staying Sunday. Sometimes he just wanted extra time with you.

~~~

You were driving home from unsuccessful shoe shopping when you heard Sam's little voice come from the backseat.

"Are you mad?"

"No, I'm not mad. Why would you say that?"

"Because grandma was kind of rude to you when you said it wasn't a week long thing." Every year he became more observant.

"Well I mean I didn't like that but I'm not mad. I don't let your grandmother ruin my mood."

"Okay"

"Do you wanna go?"

"I don’t know… I do but not for a week. That's too long away from you."

Your heart warmed a little and you nodded. "I'd feel that way too."

"Did dad like snow tubing?"

"I'm not sure bud, we never went"

"Oh."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't go. I went when I was younger with my mom and sister, we made it a girl's trip. It was a lot of fun."

"Really? What if we went just us two?"

"Hm I don’t know bud; I think your grandparents might get sad. I think I can tell them it will only have to be for a weekend and then you and I could go another time. Just us two."

"Umm okay that sounds good. I agree."

"Good." you pulled in front of your building.

"What was dad's favorite season?"

"Fall. He hated the heat, but he hated being too cold. And he'd get the worst allergies in the spring and he had this weird pet peeve for sneezing. It was kind of funny seeing him get frustrated though. He would look like he wanted to rip his nose off." You held his hand as you walked inside. He giggled at what you said. When you both got inside to your apartment you both took off your shoes and sweaters. You had a picture of your husband on a small table by your entrance. Every time you walked in Sam would say "Hi dad!" to it. He asked if he could watch some Disney XD for a bit and you said it was fine. You were going to make some dinner. You checked your phone and saw Harry had texted you. You were a little shocked he kept up with talking to you.

H: Hey, good afternoon. I hope brunch went well :)

y/n: Hey it did, I guess.

H: You guess?

y/n: Eh they want something, felt like a setup?

H: Ah. I get what you mean. Sorry it happened.

y/n: It's alright. I got my boy back so I'm happy.

H: Good. I'd love to meet him someday to be honest. He sounds adorable.

You thought about his text. How would Sam react? He's always saying for you to get a friend but what would happen when you actually did? It made you nervous to think about. You felt your phone vibrate again.

H: Uh sorry if that was too forward.

y/n: No, its fine. It was sweet.

H: Okay good.

"Ma?"

You jumped up slightly like you had been caught doing something bad.

"Who are you texting? You never text this much" he was grinning at you. He was happy?

"Um none ya beeswax"

"It is my beeswax when it's taking time away from you cooking my dinner," you gave him a warning look. Dang smart ass. Gets it from you. He mumbled a "Sorry" and sat up on the stool and leaned on your countertop.

"I made a friend that’s all okay?"

"A guy friend?" he smirked.

You turned to get a pot. "Mhm"

"What's his name?"

"Harry."

"I like that name."

"You would like any name if it meant I had a friend."

He giggled and nodded. "Does he know about me?"

"Of course he does. You think I could not talk about you?"

"Okay okay," he blushed slightly, "Is he nice?"

"Yeah he's pretty nice."

"Are you gonna go on a date?"

"Samuel! He's a friend!" you playfully yelled at him.

"Mom I'm not 5, I know you might want a little BOYfriend"

"Sam you are 7, and how do you even know what a boyfriend is." you were talking to him as you gathered all your ingredients.

"Grandma told me about boyfriends and girlfriends"

"Now what is she doing telling you about that?" you looked at him.

"Well we saw a couple at the bowling alley and they kissed and I said ew and she said it’s because they were boyfriend and girlfriend so she explained what that meant to me."

"Hm, okay." you trusted she gave him a good and appropriate definition.

"Do you have a picture of him?"

"We just met yesterday" you say as you open and close cabinets.

"Does he like baseball?"

"I actually had to explain the sport to him. He's not from here." you started cooking.

"Where's he from? Is he from where dad used to work?"

"No, way off. He's from a place called England."

"Where the Beatles are from!"

"Exactly," you smiled at him. He was a classic soul.

“That’s cool”

“Yeah his voice is different too”  

“I wanna meet him” he put his chin in his palm, “It’d be nice to be around another guy that isn’t grandpa.”

“He uh actually said he wants to meet you too but I think we should wait a bit. I think I should get to know him better before you meet him” You stir your pasta in the pot.

“Okay” he tapped your phone screen, “he texted you”

“Thanks, nosey” you took your phone and read his message. You had forgotten to respond.

Y/n: hey sorry was cooking dinner for the hungry boy and I

H: it’s alright. What’s on the menu?

Y/n: pasta. Penne ala vodka with some shrimp. Probably some garlic bread too. Lazy meal

H: lazy? sounds glorious.

You laughed as you texted.

“Oooh he’s making you laugh!” Sam giggled.

You covered your face and told him to go to his room to make sure he had done his homework. Tomorrow you were going to Chuck E Cheese so he wouldn’t have time to do it then.

Y/n: we’ll see how it tastes

H: do you like to cook?

Y/n: I do but I run out of things to cook so I get bored

H: yeah same. I like to experiment though.

You were feeling a little confident and flirtatious

Y/n: maybe you could show me sometime

H: yeah. That’d be fine with me 😊

You bit your lip unsure of what to say. It had been a while since you were back on the flirting scene. You felt your phone vibrate again.

H: are you vegetarian or anything? Gonna think of some ideas from now.

Y/n: I don’t follow any specific diet but I definitely don’t eat a lot of meat. More of a seafood person.

H: gotcha ;)

Y/n: ;)?

H: don’t like it?

Y/n: eh it’s alright 🤷🏻‍♀️

H: alright?

Y/n: mhmm

H: you’re teasing me, aren’t you?

Y/n: just a lil bit 🤏🏻

H: 😂😂

You finished up cooking dinner and called Sam. He came down quickly and mumbled a small yum.

Y/n: I’ll talk to you later. Gonna eat now.

H: okay 🥰

You served you and Sam plates and you both ate quietly as you watched some tv. You would say you were pretty lenient with Sam. He was very mature for his age and he respected you greatly. He barely gave you a hard time. You think he got that from his dad. His dad always wanted to please you any chance he got.

“Mami, can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

“How come, hon?”

“It’s comfier” you laughed at this because you would say the same thing to your parents when you were younger.

“Okay. But you know you can’t always sleep in Mami’s bed. You gotta sleep in your own some nights.”

“Yeah I know,” he smiled at you.

“Alright. Well can I trust you’ll bathe yourself good tonight? I don’t have to help you?”

“Yes ma, I’ll remember to wash myself good.”

“Okay, remember to get in between your toes and everything”

He nodded at you. You two finished your plates and you sent him off to shower. He kept the door open just in case he needed your help opening one of the bottles. You remembered the first bath you ever gave him. He was so much smaller compared to now and his dad kept complaining about how slippery he was. You were only 23 with a new job and new home but you were both so happy with your little boy. You cleaned up the kitchen and went up to bed where your little boy was already waiting. He had turned on the tv and was watching friends. You showered quickly before getting in bed with him. He cuddled up to your side and laid his head on your chest. You massaged your fingers into his damp curls until you heard him snore lightly. You fixed him onto your other pillow and fell asleep on yours.

~~~

The weekend had ended and you hadn’t heard from Harry. That was before you remembered you were the one who hadn’t answered. It was now Monday afternoon and you were picking up Sam from school. You worked at a middle school just a block away. Sam hopped into your car and told you about his day.

"Can I go to Justin's house tomorrow afterschool?"

"Is Justin's parents okay with this?"

"Yeah, we'll do our homework first too!"

"Alright, you better do it because when you get home I'm checking it all"

"Okay!"

You guys walked into your apartment and Sam went up to shower. That was the routine after school. He showers while you make a snack, after that he comes down and eats while you shower, you grade papers while he does homework, and then if he's done you let him watch some Disney channel while you make dinner. This is exactly how your evening rolls out and you decide to text Harry.

y/n: hey sorry. Busy day yesterday. You wanted me to let you know when I was free and I'm free tomorrow after 3...

You stop typing, "Sam, until when are staying at Justin's?"

"Until like 6? He said his mom was gonna cook"

"Okay," you continue typing,

y/n: Hey sorry. Busy day yesterday. You wanted me to let you know when I was free and I'm free tomorrow after 3 until like 6. I know its late notice so no worries if you're not free too.

You finish cooking, eating, and cleaning and you still hadn't heard from Harry. He was probably mad at you now. You sighed aloud and thought well it was nice while it lasted. You went over Sam's homework with him and then made sure he brushed his teeth before bed. You tucked him in and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"Goodnight my love," you pushed his hair back off his forehead.

"Goodnight mami, goodnight dad" he blows a kiss toward the picture of him and his dad on his bedside table.

You walked out his room leaving his door ajar and walked down to your room. You grab your book and climb into bed. It was the book from Jane the Virgin. You related to Jane in multiple ways. As you were becoming a part of the fictitious world of the character Josephine you felt your phone vibrate.

H: Banzai, 3:30pm, Be there or be square.

You smiled at his assertiveness. It was kind of cute.

H: If that's okay with you.

y/n: Yes, that's fine lol😂😂

He could never be too serious you thought.

H: watching friends?

y/n: actually reading.

H: what are you reading?

y/n: snow falling, it’s from a show and stuff.

H: look at the publishing company

You looked and sure enough it was Simon & Schuster. Wow.

y/n: Wow lol, I never noticed.

H: I've read it, it's pretty good. More of a girly book, I think.

Y/n: I can’t imagine you reading this tbh.

H: it was a hard manuscript to get through. Kept me on my toes.

You continued texting and before you knew it, it was 2 in the morning.

y/n: wow its 2am.

H: I know. Time flew. You're so easy to talk to.

y/n: I could say the same about you.

H: I'm excited for later

y/n: so am I, free food.

H:😐😐😐

y/n: I'm joking!

H: sure you are.

y/n: I am, I'm excited too because I miss your company, its nice.

H: I don't have a company

y/n: Harry

H: okay okay, thank you. Get some rest, you've gotta be up early.

y/n: true, see you later! 😊

H: see you🥰

~~~

Part two is up now!

[hoodwinkd1]

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 4-7

Fic Summary:  After Eris becomes High Lord, there's only one thing on his mind, now that his father is dead and he can finally leave his horrible façade behind. A slow burn romance featuring the misunderstood prince of flame and his mate, a powerful teacher who can't seem to step out of her small town life.

Chapters 1-3 here! Ch 8-10 here.

Some fuffiness, some angst, some drama, and a cliffhanger! 

Chapter 4: the lingering question kept me up

"What was it like?"

The question sat between them, as tangible and heavy as a bottle of wine. A tense silence fell, after three hours of lighthearted conversation.

Rhia blushed, absolutely mortified that the question had slipped between her lips. "I'm so sorry, that was wildly intrusive of me. Pretend I didn't say anything."

They had been trading stories like playing cards when Eris had mentioned Beron, briefly and without emotion. And yet Rhia could hardly stop herself before blurting out that damned question. She silently berated herself. What kind of heartless bitch asks about patricide without prompting?

She watched him grin without humor, his eyes turning blank when they'd been alight before.

"I suppose that's quite a normal thing to wonder about," Eris replied, in a tone that sent a small shiver down Rhia's spine. "How does a person feel after murdering their father, after premeditating the act for decades."

"No, really, I'm horrible for asking," Rhia pleaded. "You shouldn't answer that, especially not for someone you barely know." Anything to get that cold stare off his face. She took a sip of wine.

Eris seemed to catch himself, rubbing a hand over his face and also reaching for his drink. "I wish I could answer. I still don't know what I feel or how I should feel. If there's anyone I would wish to tell, it would be you."

Rhia let out a small sigh in relief that he wasn't about to storm out of her kitchen. "You don't have to feel a certain way. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to balance family and duty to the rest of the Autumn Court." Afraid of pushing too far, she hesitated a moment before adding: "Every citizen I know is grateful for what you did."

He laughed. "I doubt most Fae believe me to be any better than he was. Not after centuries by his side, doing basically nothing."

"Most Fae don't know what to think," she argued. "You were never overtly cruel or kind. Honestly, I'd thought you quite shy before...this."

"I've been cruel countless times, to countless people," Eris snapped. "Maybe not to Autumn Court citizens, but certainly to other High Lords and their close ones."

Rhia sat straighter, determined to get her point across clearly. "None of us have a clue about what happens between the nobility, especially not across Court borders. Forget their opinions and focus on what we think." He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn't finished. "I've already heard rumors about your changes in the capital and I think they'll go a very long way towards gaining favor."

She wasn't just saying that to make him feel better. Eris had restructured the tax system to account for old-money families hoarding obscene amounts of wealth, funneling most of that money to finishing repairs from the war. He'd also banned the practice of arranging marriages for children, mandating that both Fae consent after they'd passed the age of maturity.

"I shouldn't consider the opinions of other Courts?" he questioned, ignoring her other point. "Even your idol, Feyre Cursebreaker?"

Damn him. She'd made all of one comment about how incredible Feyre Archeron's feat against Amarantha was and Eris had labelled her a fanatic.  

"What does she care about your leadership? Haven't we always allied with the Night Court?" Rhia had had enough of Eris' self-deprecation and obsession with what others thought.

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, moreso than she'd thought the topic warranted. "All of Rhysand's Inner Circle hate me, deservedly so. But you were asking about me murdering my father, apologies for getting off-topic."

Rhia gaped at him. "What could possibly be so uncomfortable to speak of that you'd rather discuss murdering your father?"

Eris looked down at the table. "Something for another time."

The tension was back.

"I keep asking horrible questions," Rhia said softly, attempting to catch his eye again. "You know you never have to answer me, right?"

Eris spun his glass around a few times. "I wish I wasn't afraid to tell you."

"There are things I'm afraid to tell you," Rhia blurted out. Truly, she had almost told him about that dreadful night several times now. Every time she tried to push the words out, her lungs seemed to stop working and her head seemed to start spinning. There was something incredibly terrifying about looking into someone's eyes and giving them the darkest part of herself. Even if it wasn't her fault, Rhia couldn't stop the rush of shame that overtook her whenever she thought about it.

"I meant it when I said I'd take any part of you, in any way." Eris straightened in his chair, meeting her eyes now that he felt the compulsion to comfort.

The Cauldron was either brilliant or damned for putting the two of them together. Two Fae incapable of holding normal conversations without trauma ruining an otherwise lovely evening.

"I've made things terribly awkward," Rhia scrambled for something to fill the silence. Eris smiled at her lame attempt.

"Truthfully, I thought this conversation would be much worse," he appeased. "No one's in tears or injured, so let's count 'awkward' as a win. Tell me more about your students."

And so the conversation and evening continued to be lovely.

They met four more times over the next four weeks. Each time, Eris got a bit closer to naming his emotions about becoming High Lord and Rhia got a bit closer to attempting physical contact. Not that the other ever picked up on it.

A particularly hostile thunderstorm and cold autumn wind hit the town that night. Rhia couldn't wait for Eris to arrive, mostly because his ability to heat a room far surpassed hers. She cleaned the studio after her last class, worrying about which families had firewood and whether anyone face the storm unprepared. The door slammed, jerking her back to her body.

"Sorry to startle you," Eris apologized, snapping his fingers to dry out his clothing. He continued to enter through the door after the first night, refusing to break her wards even if he was fully capable of putting them back in place. He frowned, noting the chill in the room, and sent a warm breeze through the house.

Rhia smiled. She loved watching the flames in the fireplace jump in his presence, like a puppy excited to see its owner.

"How are you?" A loaded question, if he chose to answer truthfully.

"Much better now," Eris replied cheekily, winking at the flush that spread across her face. He never missed a chance to flirt with her and she never missed a  chance to blush like a teenager. "I actually slept well last night, but my morning was immediately ruined by one of my brothers' return home."

Rhia didn't know much about the princes, but she doubted they had good intentions. "Which one? Not that I know any of them personally."

"Auster." Eris shrugged off his coat and started heating up the tea kettle. "He is...not the worst brother I have left."

"What a charming description." Rhia finished locking up the supply closet and started to join him in the kitchen, before a frantic knock at the door stopped her in her path. Eris whipped his head around and both of them sent a tendril of power to sense who it was.

"Oh fuck," Rhia swore, turning around to walk towards the door. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."

"Who is it?" Eris asked, his tone a bit panicked at her reaction.

Rhia shushed him. "Just--I don't know, just sit down and don't say anything." He did as she commanded, but continued sending her concerned looks.

The knocking kept up until Rhia swung open the door.

"Were you going to keep me out here all night?" Sofine demanded, shoving her way into the house. "It's pouring, in case you hadn't noticed."

Rhia tried to grab her best friend's arm before she made it too far into the room. "Sofi, hold on one second--"

But it was a second too late. Sofine had inhaled, recognizing the scent of another person, a male, in the house and froze.

"Who's here?" she asked, in a tone far too tense to be casual. Rhia grimaced. This was certainly not how she planned to make introductions.

"I, uh, you see, well a few weeks ago," she stammered, her brain refusing to produce an actual sentence. Eris chose that moment to speak up.

"Hello! You must be Sofine, I've heard so much about you." He walked towards the two females, his hand outstretched. "I'm Eris."

Rhia had never seen Sofine stop talking, but in this moment she was utterly speechless. She shook his hand, without saying a word, before spinning to face Rhia again.

"You have the High Lord in your kitchen."

"Oh, that reminds me I put the kettle on. Would you like some tea?" Eris asked.

Sofine shot Rhia one last glare, silently demanding a full explanation as soon as they were alone, before joining him in the kitchen. Oh shit. In all her worries and hopes about her burgeoning relationship with Eris, she hadn't even considered how he would fit in her life, or how she would fit in his. If that were even possible.

Chapter 5: these are the words I held back

TW: mentions of past sexual assault, nothing graphic. I put "XXX" at the start and end of it, please please skip it if that could possibly harm you. I will never, ever write anything graphic or specific about sexual assault, pinky promise.

Beron’s shot of flames slammed the side of his face before Eris could duck out of the way. Hissing in pain, Eris tried to ignore the feeling that half his face was now on fire. His father kept coming with the attacks, pushing him back until he could feel the stone of the bedroom’s wall on his back.

“I’m going to kill her next,” Beron taunted, slowing his attacks now that he saw his son fully cornered. “She’s given me nothing but useless heirs, disgusting upstarts who think they can overpower me.”

Eris tried to look around the room, but there were no other options. No final play, no additional power to grasp from. Why had he thought he could overpower his father?

He grasped at his wrist to find it empty. Where was the damn bracelet?

Eris stood alone and alone he would fail.

Beron continued to taunt him, sending flames to match each word. “I could always take another wife. Someone more beautiful. I’m utterly bored with your mother’s face.” The tyrant stepped even closer so Eris could see the utter hatred in his eyes. “Maybe even that pretty little mate of yours. What was her name again? Oh right.” Beron cackled as he prepared his final blow to murder his son. “Rhia.”

Eris woke up gasping for air, his father snarl still ringing in his ear. He ran a hand over his face. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead. The refrain calmed his breathing and slowed his heart rate, like it did every morning after nightmares haunted him every night. Neither tonics nor working himself to the bone had helped bring Eris a restful night of sleep.

Hearing his mate’s name in his father’s voice had been a particularly effective type of torture. Eris had done everything he could to avoid even thinking about her while his father was still alive, especially after that horrible incident with Lucien’s first love. Jessminda had done nothing except bring one of Beron’s sons happiness, and yet she paid the ultimate price.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

The rest of the day continued in a similarly joyful manner. One of Eris’ advisors, an ancient male named Julius, had attempted to undermine the latest efforts to modernize the royal court by poisoning the newest Minister of Finance for daring to be a female. Leanna had recovered quickly, given Julius’ ineptitude at everything except  for being a misogynist, but Eris still had to handle his punishment. He then missed lunchtime because one of his spies had to give him an update on Auster’s movements, which still did not reveal the prince’s intentions or goals. Finally, Gerwin absolutely demolished him in the afternoon training session, shoving him into a weapons rack and giving him a lovely bruise on his forehead. The headache that manifested during dinner felt like a fitting way to end the day.

“Are you even listening?” his mother admonished, though her smirk suggested she was anything but annoyed. “I would rather not repeat myself for a third time.”

Eris put down his wine glass, feeling as though alcohol would only make the day worse. “Sorry. Horrid day. What were you saying?”

The Lady of the Autumn Court placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Dare I hope that the cause for your distraction is a happy one?” At his hesitation to respond, she added: “I know the walls have ears and you keep your secrets close. But come to me when you’re ready. I hate seeing you handle so much on your own.”

“I have happy reasons to be distracted, but no, today I’m simply tired,” he replied, turning his palm face up to grab her hand. “I wish I could say more and I hope I’ll be able to soon.”

His mother smiled, appeased for the moment. Eris wanted to tell her more than anything, let her know that he was happy and in love. Shit. He was in love. The thought made him cringe, because surely no undamaged person fell in love so quickly and easily. Surely only someone deprived of affection and wounded as he would consider 5 nights of conversation enough. No, Eris reasoned, he probably wasn’t in love, but the horridness of the day and the bitter taste of his nightmare had twisted his mind into thinking so.

He couldn’t tell his mother because he would not subject her to his heartbreak if Rhia decided she only ever wanted his friendship or no longer wanted him at all. She already had to watch Lucien, the true joy of her life, suffer without a true home and without love from his mate for so many years. Eris would not add to her burden, even as merely her second-favorite child.

“Go to bed early tonight,” she declared, giving him a look that made him feel like a child again. “I’ll oversee Julius’ imprisonment tonight and send word if anything goes astray.”

Eris nodded and kissed her on the head as he stood to head to his bedroom. If nothing else, murdering his father had been worth it just for his mother to live freely. If she was capable of finding her freedom once again.

Luckily, one tiny thing went right for the High Lord of the Autumn Court that awful day. The glowing piece of parchment in his top dresser drawer might as well have been a star coming down from the night sky, shining bright enough to scare away the dark. Rhia had written to him.

I’m glad you didn’t think it was terribly awkward two nights ago. Sofine can be quite abrasive, but I think she may have liked you. She worries about me, you see, even if she can’t argue with the High Lord. I’m very glad you met her though. I have a silly thought for you when you reply.

Eris couldn’t remember a single thing on his to-do list. The only possible thing he had to do was reply and reply quickly.

Let her know she is allowed to argue with me any time. I’ll probably regret saying that. My day was absolutely horrible and your silly thought is the only thing that might bring me joy again. Please share before I perish from curiosity.

She took a few minutes, either caught up in cleaning her house or making him wait on purpose. Masochistically, he hoped it was the latter and she enjoyed playing games with him.

If you mock me for this, I will, well I don’t know what I’ll do but it won’t be pleasant.

After you both left, I thought about how I might never have had the courage to introduce you or include you in my life. But then, I thought about how relieving it was that Sofine knew about you. Because that makes it real. I can’t back out now and I don’t want to.

No one was watching, so Eris could deny that a few tears pricked the corners of his eyes when he read that. Yes, Rhia was often withdrawn and overly cautious with him, but she was still moving forward. The two of them were still progressing into something, something more beautiful than anything Eris had ever experienced before.

That’s not silly. That’s a wonderful thought that I enjoyed immensely. Can I share a silly thought with you now?

Please. If only to make me feel less alone in my mortification.

You’re so easily mortified. Have you considered that I’m much more desperate and embarrassing than you are? Here’s my thought:

He hesitated, wanting to write so many things. He could write three dangerous words, but knew it was much too soon. He could ask her for permission to tell his mother, but knew that might bring more danger and scrutiny than could be prevented. He could even tell her about the worst mistake of his life and pray to the Mother that she wouldn’t see him like Mor did. Instead, he added:

I think once a week is ridiculous. I think about you too often to only hear your voice once a week. How would you feel about twice a week? If we’re feeling reckless, three times?

Infatuated, but not damaging enough to push her away.

I’m amazed this Court continues to run if you truly are thinking of me so often. If it will help the High Lord function, two-three times a week is acceptable to me. (more than acceptable). When should we start this crazy, reckless plan?

Not to upgrade the recklessness to outright foolhardiness, but tomorrow night? Unless your social calendar is full.

You know I have one friend, don’t be rude. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Bring food and wine.

She always did love trying the foregin cuisines he brought from the capital, offerings that weren’t available in more rural areas. Eris enjoyed nothing more than watching her try a new food cautiously before digging into it enthusiastically. Rhia’s face had seemed unreadable when he first met her, but he had begun to understand her expressions the way some scholars learned new languages. Food certainly helped soften their relationship, as indicated by the way her eyes narrowed when she saw something interesting and her lips quirked upward when she discovered a new favorite flavor.

Eris frowned as a realization swept over him. He was thinking about her lips, yes, but not at all in a sexual manner. This fact alone was not troubling; Eris only felt sexual attraction rarely and towards Fae he had some sort of prior connection with. However, Rhia was his mate and he thought he could be in love with her; desire surely should follow. Yet it felt as though some boundary stood between them and intimacy, as though sex was not even on the table at this moment. Too exhausted to unpack that strange feeling, Eris decided not to question the best thing in his life. Sexual desire would come or it wouldn’t.

----

Rhia had another bad night. One step forward, two steps back, her thoughts ran like an angry river towards an endless sea. She could feel the Mother laughing at her predicament.

XXX

As Rhia started trusting and liking Eris more, she thought about them as a couple. Every time she thought about them as a couple, a cold wave of terror rushed over her at the thought of being intimate with him. Eris could overwhelm her without a second thought, his power ten times her own. Even with Rhia’s strongest gusts of wind or quickest winnows, she would not escape him.

He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Her constant refrain did nothing to quell the anxiety that followed any time she thought about sex. The logical side of her brain screamed and yelled that he had not even touched her yet, had observed every boundary she set, had made no move to pressure her forward. Unfortunately, logic did not win out against trauma.

Rhia gripped her bathroom sink, staring at herself in the mirror like she always did when her thoughts grew too loud. Looking into her own eyes and seeing that she’d survived that night, survived her fucking rapist, slowed her heart rate back to normal.

Cauldron, this stupid problem only existed because she wanted him. Rhia had wanted him the moment she laid eyes on him. She thought about kissing him every time he stepped through her doorway. But males never stopped at kissing and Eris might walk away if he understood how truly fucked up she was.

You’re not the first female to ever get attacked. Pull yourself together. Rhia screamed at herself until her inner voice was hoarse. Do you know how much worse others have it? Can you even imagine what his own mother went through for centuries?

A voice that sounded eerily like Sofine’s challenged her back. Just because others have it worse does not lessen your burden or your worth.

Rhia breathed in, then out. In, then out. She would hopefully be able to fall asleep soon, this panic attack lasting less time than last week’s.

XXX

Exhaustion finally came, crashing over her as she finally felt her body relax. Rhia gave herself one last, long look in the mirror before coming to a decision.

She would not let herself ruin this relationship before it even had a chance to start. If it took jumping off a cliff and telling Eris about the worst night of her life, that was a small sacrifice to pay for potentially finding happiness. Smiling at that unusually optimistic perspective, Rhia washed her face and grabbed her silk bonnet, hoping that tonight’s dreams would carry her towards that mysterious, happy future.

Chapter 6: shifting eyes and vacany, vanished

TW: mentions of past sexual assault. same thing as last time, absolutely nothing graphic, will put an XXX before and after.

Eris had just grabbed his cloak, preparing to winnow to Malefic, when he heard a sharp knock at his door. He grimaced, imagining some sort of bureaucratic nonsense that could have undoubtedly been saved for tomorrow morning.

Instead he found Gerwin, nervously pacing the hall outside of the High Lord’s bedchambers. The weapons master rarely brought Eris news directly, and wouldn’t disturb him at night unless it was absolutely urgent.

“Come in.” Eris stepped back into the sitting area, tossing his cloak on the back of the nearest chair. “How long do you think this will take?” He’d rather send a quick note to Rhia then leave her waiting for hours.

Gerwin remained standing. “Not long, but I suspect you’ll want to take action after you hear this. One of your spies was found dead last night. We suspect Auster figured her out.”

“Who?” Eris mentally ran through the five Fae he had employed to look into his brother, shocked and hurt at the prospect of losing any of them.

“Mellie,” Gerwin responded, naming the air wraith who could walk as silently as the wind. Eris could only imagine how his brother had caught her and what detestable things he had done before killing her. “Jyn found her body an hour ago and we’ve covered the area up so none of the other staff will find out. How would you like to proceed?”

I’ll be a bit late tonight. Would you rather reschedule?

No, I want to talk to you and I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve. Come when you can.

That message from Rhia certainly didn’t calm Eris’ anxiety.

The two males debated and strategized over the next hour, going back and forth on how to manage the prince. Since he surely left no evidence behind, Eris couldn’t arrest or prosecute his brother without possibly inflaming any support Auster had. They didn’t want to send any more of the spy cohort after him, since he’d proved tragically capable at sniffing them out. Unfortunately, the best move at the moment was to wait for Auster to make another move or present his purpose. Eris strengthened the wards around the palace, including extra alarms for anyone entering or leaving Auster’s chambers. It was an infuriatingly small response to Mellie’s death.

Eris had one person he considered asking for help, but she wasn’t in the Autumn Court and he didn’t like the idea of his familial problems becoming gossip across Prythian. Another thing I should probably discuss with Rhia , he mused, as he finally gathered his cloak and set off for her house.

Eris winnowed and raised his fist to knock, but Rhia flung the door open before he had a chance.

“Hi.” She sounded almost out of breath, but looked stunning as always. Her dark curls were pulled back into a low ponytail, with several strands escaping in the front. Eris could have looked at her face forever, her smile illuminated by the lantern above her door.

He stepped inside after her. “I’m sorry for the delay. Sometimes I actually have to do work as High Lord, contrary to popular opinion.” The joke fell flat, his anger at Mellie’s death darkening his tone.

Rhia placed the tea kettle and two mugs on the table, gesturing for him to sit. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Eris grabbed one and poured some of the tea, smelling cinnamon and honey. “I believe you had something you wanted to talk about first. I’ll tell you after; I don’t want to ruin the evening too quickly with my melancholy”

Rhia laughed. Eris frowned, his remark hadn’t been humorous.

---

Rhia laughed. She couldn’t help it. Eris had said didn’t want to ruin the evening, as if he imagined she had something funny, endearing, or whimsical to share. He shot her a confused frown, which only made her laugh harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she giggled, pouring herself a cup of tea and attempting to find her composure. “This isn’t funny at all.”

“I would never deny you an opportunity to laugh,” he replied, smiling a bit at her oddity. “But would you mind letting me in on the joke?”

She took a deep breath and a sip of tea, forcing herself to calm down. She often laughed when nervous and she hadn’t realized how nervous she truly was until this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Rhia said one more time. “It’s just, you said you didn’t want to ruin the evening with your news, but I’m afraid my topic of conversation is quite unfortunate. Also, I laugh when I’m nervous,” she finished lamely, looking down at her mug instead of his face.

“There’s nothing you could tell me that I wouldn’t want to hear,” Eris encouraged.

She only wished encouragement was enough.

Rhia took another breath. “I don’t quite know where to begin. I guess, well, I’m sure you had some sort of expectations for your future wife.”

Eris interrupted. “I told you, I don’t have any expectations for you. I just--”

She placed one of her hands on his instinctively. “Please, don’t interrupt me. I know you have no expectations for me and I appreciate that so, so much.” She tried to continue, but her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth. He had gone completely still.

This was the first time they had touched. Their eyes locked.

Rhia couldn’t help herself. She let out another giggle. Eris grinned at the sound of her laughter and at the absurdity of the situation.

“We’re quite useless, aren’t we?” She looked down at her hand on his again. “Two Fae over a century old who can barely hold hands.”

Eris flipped his hand so his palm touched hers. “I’ve told you time and time again the effect you have on me.” His fingers ever so slowly interlocked with hers. “We’re either extremely touch-starved or incredibly pathetic.”

Somehow, the small action of holding hands spurred Rhia to continue. She felt grounded and calm, trusted and trusting.

“I knew you were pathetic, but I had no idea I was also so wretched,” Rhia replied. “This sort of adds to my point.”

She allowed herself one more breath before continuing.

“I’m aware you have no expectations for me, but we both know what a mating bond or a marriage usually entails. I want to tell you this because it affects both of us, our relationship. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have an intimate relationship with you.”

Eris, to his credit, stayed silent. Rhia didn’t sense any shock or strong emotions coming off of him, so she took that as a sign to keep going.

XXX

“Halfway through Amarantha’s rule, while myself and a few others were warding Malefic off from the outside world, a group of males somehow broke in. Everyone else was left unharmed, except for me. My power was depleted from maintaining the constant security, and one of the males had enough magic to keep me still.”

Her story was definitely not clear or easy to follow. Rhia couldn’t find the energy to make it make sense.

“And, well, that’s that. I’m...well I’m improved. I thought I was back to normal. I usually don’t have a problem with intimacy and I’ve had plenty of sex since then.” She glanced up. “Sorry, is that too much information?”

Eris cleared his throat. “Rhia, if you think that your sex life is at all one of my concerns with this conversation…”

“Right, the trauma is probably more important.” She realized she was still gripping his hand and loosened her fingers a bit. His fingers opened, as if to give her the space to back away. She didn’t take it.

“If I have my full strength and I know the male isn’t powerful, it’s really not a problem.” She looked up at him. “So it’s really fucked up that the only person I can think about now is the most powerful male in the damn Court.”

XXX

His face was still frustratingly unreadable.

A wave of anxiety hit Rhia. “You can talk now.”

“I love you.” Eris swore under his breath. “Fuck, that’s really not how I wanted it to come out. I know it doesn’t fix anything and I know I can’t fix anything, but I am just so incredibly honored you chose to share this with me. And it doesn’t change a damn thing about wanting to be with you however you want me.”

Rhia breathed in his confession like a drug. Love won’t fix trauma and a romantic partner won’t fix a broken person. But it felt undeniably good to have someone there, someone who wouldn’t look at her differently or see her as less worthy.

“That wasn’t a good response,” Eris continued. “Let me try again. Thank you for sharing your story with me. I am so sorry that happened to you. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

“Both responses were good, you idiot,” Rhia sniffed once, a little more emotional than she thought she would be. “Stop it or I’m going to cry.”

“If you cry, I might also cry,” Eris warned. “And then I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life for crying and taking the attention off of you.” He slowly placed his other hand on top of hers and squeezed once. “We definitely do not have to continue this conversation now, but I would appreciate knowing how I can help you feel comfortable and safe.”

She didn’t reply, but gave him a weak smile in response. “Tell me about your thing now. I’m emotionally fried.”

“Are you sure?” When she nodded, Eris added: “I feel a bit silly now, complaining about my brother and his mysterious intentions.”

Rhia let go of his hand briefly, only to stand and walk over to the kitchen. “I’m sure it’s not some trivial matter if you were late tonight.” She grabbed a bottle of dark brown liquor from a cabinet above the sink. “And please, anything to change the subject.” She poured a splash of liquid into each of their teacups, causing Eris to grin.

“Nothing like alcohol to dull the ache of familial drama. I actually found out one of my spies died tonight, surely at Auster’s hand.” His expression quickly morphed from amused to solemn. “Mellie. She was absolutely brilliant and I wasted her life on pure suspicion. I should’ve investigated him myself from the beginning, instead of risking my employees for a personal cause.” Eris finished this thought with a few large sips.

Rhia also took a drink. “Is it truly a personal matter? If your brother is willing to kill someone, it sounds like he’s actually a risk to your entire court. And I’m very sorry to hear about Mellie.”

“Thank you,” he replied automatically. “That’s...I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right, murder wouldn’t be the typical response to finding a spy. I just wish I knew what he hoped to accomplish.”

“Tell me more about him and I’ll take a guess,” Rhia offered. “It’ll be poorly thought out, but another perspective can’t hurt.”

So Eris began to describe his younger brother. Auster had been a quiet child growing up, never as violent or hostile as the other Vanserra siblings. Youngest only to Lucien, Auster hadn’t even bullied his younger brother to the extent the middle brothers did. However, once they had all reached maturity and especially after the Jessminda incident, Eris suspected that Auster’s quiet demeanor had more to do with remaining unnoticed than introverted tendencies. After two of the brothers died and one escaped Beron at Tamlin’s hand, Eris had investigated the remaining three brothers to maintain his role as Heir. Morian and Dedus were idiots, all brute force and horrible manners. While those characteristics endeared them to Beron, the former High Lord kept the twins far away from the capital and wouldn’t risk giving them actual power. Auster, on the other hand, seemed to have half the staff on his payroll according to financial analyses.

Eris had his own casual spies in the palace and began a more formal cohort, led by Gerwin, at this point in time. Auster never seemed to take action, but Eris suspected he had a role in revealing secrets of multiple political rivals. Beron had also put him in charge of punishing any traitors accused of treason, allowing Auster to demonstrate his cruel tendencies.

Months before Eris had taken the throne, Auster had simply disappeared. Beron had never addressed his missing son and they received no news of his death. Eris had spent those months clearing the palace of anyone with ties to his brother and hired new staff completely loyal to him. Only weeks after Beron’s official funeral, Auster had returned and pledged his support to his older brother. He had spent the time since holed up in his room, without any obvious communication to the outside world.

“Sorry, that was a bit of a rant,” Eris finished. Both Fae had finished several cups of tea-and-liquor during his explanation, and Rhia could feel her cheeks heating up under the alcohol’s influence. But she attempted some logic and reasoning for Eris’ sake.

“He sounds horrible and manipulative. Just the kind of male to come back in the picture only when it suits him,” she theorized. “If he hasn’t spoken to anyone outside the palace, maybe he’s trying to get some of the staff under his control again. Or one of them is sneaking messages out for him.”

Eris nodded, eyes drifting off into the distance as he considered her words. “I’ve been lazy. I’ve put up wards, but that would only detect magic or Fae who don’t belong in the palace. He could have easily snuck out paper messages with one loyal servant.”

Rhia wanted to help out, she really did. But his fingers had been unconsciously playing with her, lightly skimming her wrist and forearm, as if they had a mind of their own while he spoke. Distracting, and devastatingly tender.

She stood suddenly, concerned about where her thoughts might take her. Eris’ gaze snapped back to her face.

“It’s late,” she offered as a clearly fake excuse for her behavior. “I feel terrible, keeping you up when you’ll have to deal with all this in the morning.” Not to mention, she had a group of children coming in for a class in less than six hours.

Eris stood as well, grabbing his cloak. He seemed so hesitant, so unwilling to leave, staring at her face as if to memorize it. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to come back here for awhile.”

Rhia’s heart dropped to the ground. “What?” He saw the panic, noticed her heart rate elevate and immediately corrected.

“Not because of you! Not at all because of tonight. Tonight was everything to me,” he emphasized, holding out a hand between them. “Because of Auster. If I start seriously investigating him, I worry he’ll try to follow me. Or figure out my weaknesses. Rhia, I only introduced myself to you because I thought you’d be safe after I became High Lord. If my brother were to ever try to harm you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

She breathed a bit easier. “How long?”

“I’ll write to you. The paper is safe, enchanted for only our eyes.” Eris shook his head. “Hopefully a couple weeks? I wish it were simple, but Gerwin and I decided to wait for his next move. So it’s difficult to know.”

The idea of not seeing him for a couple weeks hurt. It hurt so much more than Rhia wanted to admit.

So she decided to be brave. She stepped close enough to him that she could feel his breath on her face. She grabbed each of his hands in her own and pulled them up to rest on his chest. For a moment, she swore their hearts beat in synchronization.

“I don’t think anyone would miss him if you had to kill him,” she said, her voice steadier than her thoughts. “Just handle him quickly.”

Eris laughed lightly. “I am very motivated, trust me.” He kissed her knuckles. “Good night.”

Eris gathered his cloak and winnowed back to his palace. As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, he wondered how it would feel to fall asleep somewhere he felt safe, somewhere full of good memories, with someone who cared about him.

Funnily enough, Rhia fell asleep wondering the same thing.

Chapter 7: until I see you again

After five days of silence, Rhia was about ready to lose her mind. Eris hadn’t written or called her in any way, and there wasn’t even any new gossip about him from the capitol. Her mind wandered off at inopportune moments, imagining him dead by his brother’s hand or finally deeming her unworthy of him and moving on to someone else.

“RHIA!”

She jumped, startled at the high-pitched squeal that cut off her most recent vision of Auster chopping off Eris’ head. One of her students, Raquel, stood outside one of the studio windows, banging on the glass.

“Shit,” Rhia swore under her breath, glancing at the clock above the wall of mirrors. Her next lesson was starting now and she hadn’t set up anything.

She jostled over to the door and opened the door to see Raquel standing with two of their peers. This group was one of her favorites, three young Lesser Fae who manipulated nature and lived right at the edge of the forest. Raquel was the certified leader of the group and took that role seriously: they made sure Leyora and Aliar always arrived on time.

Rhia usually loved all the sass and attitude that came with this trio, but today she was close to strangling the little jerk.

“Come in, come in,” she said instead, herding the children into the room and helping them with their coats. “I must’ve forgotten to unlock the door. How’s everyone doing today?”

“We were having a good day until you left us in the cold for so long,” Raquel grumbled, their cheeks pink from the frosty air. “I screamed your name four times before you noticed me.”

Leyora nodded. “Raquel was very loud. You really should answer your door faster.” She looked extremely serious after the minor inconvenience, in the way only children can.

Rhia finished hanging the coats and walked over to her supply closet. “Well I am very sorry that I ruined your morning. Blow breezes at each other while I set up.”

As they sent blasts of air at each other, the children soon forgot their anger and quickly turned to laughter, describing their breakfasts and every little detail of the walk over. Rhia tried to be engaged and charming, like she usually was, but kept glancing at the empty piece of paper sitting on her counter, yearning for it to glow.

An hour later, and after several very close calls with fire and her curtains, Rhia stood staring at the paper again. She’d tried, she really had, to give Eris time to deal with his brother and let him write her first. The last thing she wanted was to distract him while he was potentially fighting for his throne. Well, he could always ignore her if he didn’t want to respond, so she might as well write something.

Just let me know you’re okay.

---

After five days of hunting, Eris was ready to lose his damn mind. He’d returned home to find the palace in complete chaos, with the staff fleeing and his mother missing. Gerwin gave him the quick update as he sprinted to her chambers, sure his brother was to blame.

“Thirty minutes ago, we found half your mother’s guard dead and her rooms empty. Whoever it was left the damn bodies in the kitchen , like a maniac, to scare everyone away and cause all this.” Gerwin gestured to the general panic and disarray. “We’ve already searched for your brother and he’s long gone. I don’t think he came anywhere near here”

Eris ignored him and burst through the door of the bedroom. Indeed, Auster’s scent was completely absent.

“We found a note and left it untouched for you,” Gerwin explained, pointing at a delicately embossed letter sitting on the coffee table

An oathbreaker is not fit to be High Lord. Relinquish your title before the week is up.

“Shit,” Eris swore. “This is bad.”

Gerwin glanced at the note again. “What does it mean?”

Eris scrambled for a plan, an idea, anything that would fix this mess. “It means the Court of Nightmares knows I broke the alliance.” He grabbed a piece of stationery off a random dresser, scrawling out a quick note. “Auster found himself an army of bastards, willing to help bring me down.”

I need your help. Come to the palace immediately.

With a flick of his fingers, Eris sent the message to the only person who might be able and willing to help him.

“The advisers are waiting,” Gerwin said hesitantly. “I know they won’t have anything useful to say, but I believe it best if you appease them tonight.”

“Fine,” Eris growled, in no mood to handle the overly emotional politicians.

As expected, he could hear the arguments and heated debates from down the hall. Entering the main conference room, Eris shot a wave of power across the room, silencing the chatter.

“My mother is missing. Don’t waste my time.” He glared directly at Moris, one of the ringleaders and most vocal on the council.

To his credit, Moris inclined his head in respect and kept his tone calm. “My Lord, I cannot imagine how stressful tonight is for you. We only wish to help you come up with a strategy.”

“The note is quite concerning,” added another male. “Could you elaborate on the meaning of ‘oathbreaker’?”

Eris let out a breath. “I don’t have time to explain everything to you all. Clearly, my brother had some hand in this, and I believe he had foreign aid.”

“That’s quite a claim,” Moris responded thoughtfully. “Without evidence, however, how can we take action?”

“ You won’t be taking any action.” Eris resisted the urge to snarl. “I don’t remember seeing any of you hunting down fugitives in the past few centuries.” Gerwin snorted behind him. “I’ll track down my brother and bring him back to stand trial.”

The room erupted into discussion. Beron would have never taken on such a task himself, leaving the throne empty and the palace unruled. Eris ignored every one of their complaints,

He couldn’t recruit anyone else from the Autumn Court for this task, or he would risk revealing the secret that threatened his legitimacy as High Lord.

--

“Well that could have gone better,” Gerwin remarked, following Eris away from the conference room. “At least you didn’t set anyone’s hair on fire.”

“I thought about it.” Eris stalked into his bedchambers, waving the door closed behind his weapons master.

Gerwin stiffened. “Eris, someone’s in here--”

Eris cut him off. “Hello, Carina.”

The infamous Heir to the Night Court stepped out from the shadows. Dark haired, dressed in all black, and heartbreakingly beautiful, Rhysand’s daughter winked at him.

“Already trouble in paradise?” she smirked.

Gerwin grabbed Eris’ arm. “This is your idea? Bringing in the Night Court again?”

Eris shook him off. “If Keir is involved in any capacity, then her family will need to know about it.” Gerwin opened his mouth to argue, but Eris continued. “Besides, she’s already helped me more than anyone can know.”

He looked at the female who might be his only other friend. They’d grown close after Eris had called in his deal with the Inner Circle, demanding they support him in overthrowing Beron. Carina had convinced them to take it one step further, providing magical bracelets that let two Fae share power, to ensure that Eris could actually defeat his father. She had lied to her parents and mate when she had actually worn the bracelet herself, letting Eris use her strength to kill Beron.

If anyone found out, the advisers could use the information to call for Eris’ resignation. The Court could likely agree with them.

“Can I see the note?” Carina asked. Eris handed it to her. After inspecting it for a moment, she gave it back. “It stinks of Keir’s right-hand male, Toren. I’ll have Azriel look into him.”

Eris sighed in relief. Finally, a small clue into his mother’s location. “Thank you. I already owe you so much--”

She waved his gratitude off. “It’s what friends are for. I do enjoy extravagantly expensive dresses, if you must know. What else can I do?”

“I can’t ask anything else of you,” Eris insisted. “Just--anything you find from the Hewn City.”

“Of course,” Carina smiled. “We’ll find her, I promise. Absolutely do not give up the throne.”

--

And so Eris had spent the next four days across the Autumn Court, running into dead ends and even a few traps. Gerwin returned to the palace after two days, promising to keep any nobles from attempting a coup.

Carina had sent a message, letting him know that Keir remained in the Night Court and no one had seen any sign of Auster. Azriel had assigned several Fae to watch everyone in the Court of Nightmares, and had begun sifting through all their communications. If they are working together, they’ll have to discuss at some point. Her words did not inspire much confidence.

The High Lord was exhausted. He missed Rhia every second of every day and wished he’d thought to grab their parchment before leaving. The logical side of his brain screamed at him to return home, get some rest, and request help from his spies. The guilt fueling him, however, demanded that he never put someone else in danger again, that he alone murder another family member to keep his Court safe.

Eris shook some leaves from his hair and splashed cold creek water onto his face in a lame attempt to wake himself up. He was outside a small town where Auster’s scent lingered, but found no actual trace of the murderous prick. There were no other trails, no further moves to make.

He closed his eyes for one moment, gathering his composure to winnow back to the palace as a failure. Eris woke up several minutes later to a sword at his throat.

“What in the name of the Mother are you doing?” Lucien demanded. “Falling asleep in the middle of a random forest like a vagabond? Our fucking mother is missing.”

Eris shoved the blade away and got to his feet. “I’m searching for our fuck of a brother, you bastard. And looking for her. Why are you here?” As the question slipped out of his mouth, he suddenly remembered that one of the only Fae Lucien still loved had been stolen in some twisted plot.

The younger Vanserra looked even more exhausted, if that were possible.

“Trying to find you.” Lucien tucked his sword away. “I was hoping you’d have tracked him down by now or have found some new information.”

“Nothing,” Eris groaned, running a hand over his face. “This was all a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have let Auster run me around the Court like a fool.”

Lucien snorted. “Your savior complex is going to kill you one day. I have news from the Night Court, if you’re awake enough to listen.”

Eris hated accepting help, especially from his youngest brother, but took the hand Lucien offered anyway. They took turns winnowing back to the palace, as Lucien gave him a summary of the last few days.

Keir had thrown a massive temper tantrum when members of the Inner Circle appeared in the Hewn City and demanded to search his palace. After failing to link him directly to uprisings in Illyria several months ago, Carina had done everything in her power to find evidence that Keir was working with Auster.

“She’s bitter,” Lucien noted. “They all are. This is the second time this year that Keir has attempted some sort of terrorism or treason.”

Eris ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m just grateful for their help, even if it has nothing to do with me. Did Carina find anything?” Only one more jump and Eris would be in his chambers again. He almost cried at the thought of a nap in an actual bed and a chance to contact Rhia after days of silence.

“Yes and no,” Lucien continued. “Azriel tracked down the messenger who connected Auster and Keir in the first place, confirming our worst fears, but no sign of Mother.” The male sighed, preparing to winnow them the final few miles home. “I’m concerned that there’s something else going on, some other plan that we aren’t seeing.”

“I agree,” Eris replied. “Auster’s trail was authentic; I knew for certain he had visited the places I tracked him. But I think he set it up weeks ago, before staying in the palace.”

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. He grabbed Eris’ arm and vanished them, landing directly in the High Lord’s chambers.

“Fuck,” Lucien swore, looking around the room. “I can’t believe you sleep in here. Lovely decorating, though.”

Eris couldn’t agree more. He hated living where Beron had abused and fought him. “I wish I had a choice. If I remained in my old rooms, the advisers would’ve pounced on my weakness.”

Gesturing to one of the large couches, Eris continued. “You’re welcome to stay, rest for a bit, if you don’t want to announce your presence to the entire Court.”

Lucien looked taken aback at the offer. “I--That would probably be smart, yes.”

Eris barely heard his agreement. Mumbling something about a bath, he stumbled into his bedroom, stripping off his disgusting jacket and pants. Cauldron, he was an idiot for letting Auster wear him down so thoroughly.

Eris sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the door of his bathing room, debating whether he shouldn’t skip the bath in favor of falling asleep immediately. Something glowed in the corner of his vision, dragging his gaze to the nightstand.

“Rhia,” he breathed, snatching up the parchment. He read the message, drinking in her words like a life-saving potion.

Just let me know you’re okay.

Magicking a pen, Eris scrawled back as quickly as he could.

I’m so sorry to have worried you. I’d like nothing more than to rush to your side and never leave again. Unfortunately, I do not have any good news. Lucien is with me now, and we’ll resume our search after I’ve rested. I’m back at the palace, so I can promise my safety for the time being.

When she did not respond instantly, Eris put down the pen and took off his undershirt. She would know he was alive and back home, without a reason to worry for at least the next few hours.

With that thought comforting him, he leaned back on the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut a moment before his head hit the soft fabric, meaning Eris did not watch the massive blade appear above him and stab him through the heart.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

it’s some angst and smut time y’all! You can read it here or on AO3. AO3 includes tags such as drunk sex, mildly dubious consent and smut! I’m too lazy to re-list them all here. Just know everyone’s of legal age to be fucking each other up. 

So without further ado, here’s 8+k of Malex during the interim years between high school and S1. 

                              The sun had been brutal that day. Every time he’d touched a surface besides his own skin, he’d felt like he was being blistered from the heat. It left his fingers feeling raw and all he wanted was some relief from the onslaught of fire and light. It didn’t help that an awareness kept nagging at him, like a lead balloon settling to ground in his stomach, making him cranky and on edge on top of dealing with the sweltering desert sun. The feeling was familiar enough for him to recognize that he’d had it before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly and that made him irritable as much as the sweat stinging his eyes did. Usually, he’d be able to hide away somewhere during the hottest part of the afternoon to drink a cold one and take some time to meditate on his feelings, but that day Sanders had been around and ready to fire him if he didn’t finish a certain car before end of business. Consequently, Michael felt wrung out and thin skinned by the time he’d stumbled into the Wild Pony to drink himself into a giddy stupor. Maybe he’d find some trouble tonight if he was lucky. Maybe the buzzing in his brain would shut up if he poured enough tequila onto it. Maybe he’d even ask for ice in his whiskey to cool him off.

              Michael felt his feet scrape the packed dirt of the Wild Pony parking lot as he drug himself still grease stained and damp from sweat into the dark, cool bar before the sun had even set. The car he’d worked on wasn’t a hard job, but it was a heavy one that took far too much effort and time and his body felt beat up at the end of it. Once he’d slammed the finished invoice on Sanders’ desk, he’d grabbed his hat off the rack and his truck keys, hightailing it straight to the bar with barely a look backwards.

The bar was almost empty in the early afternoon except for a handful of other afternoon regulars. Drunks that didn’t have day jobs or only worked enough to get money to pay for their place on the bar stool. Michael didn’t ever want to be like them, but he also recognized that a corner stool was open and looked inviting to the mean gremlin in the back of his mind. He shook his head and turned to survey all the open spots in the building, enjoying the blast of A/C that hit him as soon as the door had opened.  It felt like walking into a meat locker it was so crisp and cool. That would change as the bodies piled in for beer and pool and the ever-constant search for companionship, but right now it felt like the North Pole on a winter morning. He waved towards Mimi DeLuca at the bar and sidled over to a booth along the wall where the air-conditioned vent would hit him straight in the face. As he sat down he sighed long and hard, letting contentment wash over him as the anticipation of being pleasantly blitzed later settled in his mind.

              “Long day, cowboy?” Mimi asked, setting down a water on the coaster in front of him and eyeing him up and down. She wasn’t flirting, he knew, but just scrutinizing what kind of drunk he was going to be today. They’d done this dance a lot since he’d become legal and actively self-destructive.

              “The longest. Give me five shots of your cheapest tequila,” he ordered, grinning at her disapproving look. She nodded and walked back towards the bar without a word though. She’d long since stopped trying to mother him over how he decided to destroy his body. He wasn’t worth her time and both of them knew it.

              Michael slunk down on the bench seat and closed his eyes, enjoying the cool air on his face while he waited for Mimi to get back. The pleather of the seat creaked under body and he extended his legs out under the table and propped them on the empty seat across from him. He could almost fall asleep like that, his body ready to forget the tequila and just dream for a couple hours. If he thought that were a real possibility, he’d leave with his money and go back to the Airstream to do just that, but sleep never came easy to Michael. He could be so tired he’d be weeping with the desire to just not be for a little while and his brain would hum along with one mistake or memory after another until he sought an alternative route to Slumberland. He jerked when Mimi came back and set down his shots.  He hadn’t been asleep, but he’d found that meditative half-consciousness that fueled him through most of his life.

              “That’s twenty-five,” she let him know, waiting for him to dig out his wallet from his back pocket. He handed her thirty and picked up with first shot and downed it without much ado. When he sat back, fingers still holding the glass lightly and breath coming out hard from the burn of the cheap stuff, she started fishing in her apron for change. He waved at her without saying a word and she nodded back in acknowledgement. He wouldn’t say it was in thanks because Mimi Deluca never thanked him for anything. She might thank him for not darkening her doorstep again, but then he’d have to find a new place to drink where the staff knew to leave him alone when he was in a mood like the one he was in today.

              “Alex Manes is in town,” she mentioned casually, taking out a rag and making a show of wiping down the seat across from his before pushing his boots off and taking a seat. 

Michael felt his stomach lurch and he gave her a narrow look, picking up the next shot and downing it in response. She shrugged and looked out at the four other patrons scattered around the room. “Maria mentioned it. Just thought you’d want to catch up with an old high school friend. He’s only on here on leave for a couple days. Then he’s getting sent back to the Middle East for another tour.”

              “We weren’t exactly friends in high school, I’m not sure he’d even want to see me,” he replied, knowing he sounded sulky and petulant. Mimi gave him a sharp look, seeing through his shit just like always.

              “Well, you were something. He always looked at you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite figure out and you always looked at him like he was the only answer to any question worth asking.  Maybe you should look him up while he’s in town,” she commented, stacking the two empty shot glasses and leaving him to think about her suggestion. He watched after her, starting to feel the fuzzy edges of warmth from the tequila take hold of his consciousness.

              How did he tell her that he had seen Alex Manes every time he’d come back home on leave? Or that he’d actually visited him once or twice when he was stationed somewhere within a day’s drive? Seven years since that day in the shed and every time Alex came home, he burst through Michael’s heart like a cannonball leaving just as much shredded evidence that he’d been through as a real one would. And Alex would just keep moving forward, not a dent or scratch to show he’d torn through Michael once again. It made Michael feel like just part of the rounds. Alex would see Maria, endure his father, pretend to be straight with his bros and then find Michael, where ever he may be, and crawl under his skin to hide for a few hours while systematically breaking down all of Michael’s emotional defenses and raising another sexual peak for someone else to try and top. Then he’d leave. Michael would mourn like a faithful pet and have to slowly fill in the hollow spaces that Alex had made for himself while he was there.

              He took another shot. Maybe if he was hammered Alex would turn around and go back to his father’s house? Maybe if he drove out to the desert and slept in the back of his truck for the next week he could avoid this round of heartbreak? But then maybe he’d miss his chance to see Alex smile the way he’d only smile for Michael. He’d miss the feel of his skin brushing against Michael’s as he turned over in that sweet sleep they’d find between rounds of pressing themselves into one another. He’d miss giving Alex the chance to say he’d stay and that he loved him and that it was more than some protracted high school fling that neither of them could bear to end.

              But it felt inevitable, this thing between them. Hearing Mimi’s announcement that he was in town clued Michael into what he’d been feeling all day. Inertia. It didn’t matter if he got shit faced, the universe would still tumble his sotted ass into Alex because he was always in a state of heading towards him anyway. The same end always awaited him. All Alex had to do was exist and Michael would crawl over a lava field to press his forehead against the skin of his ankles and when Alex stepped away, Michael would move towards him once more trying to recapture their bond. It wasn’t healthy, this obsession he felt towards Alex, but no one had ever made him feel so needed or so desperate for love. No one could calm the frenetic energy in his bones while winding him up to bursting.  No one else tasted like starlight and infinite possibility the way Alex did. No one knew the seams of all his pieces so blindly and left him quite so torn apart.

              His stomach rolled and he thought maybe he should’ve ordered something solid with his liquid dinner. Michael drank down half the glass of water and looked out across the bar to distract himself with the way the tequila was starting to make him feel floaty. More people were filtering in. The after-work crowd was always loud and brash and high on that feeling of temporary freedom from responsibility. Normally they were his favorite people to hustle for free drinks or Texas rounders in the bathroom, but he no longer felt like seeing or dealing with anyone tonight.  He eyed the last two shots in contemplation.

              Shrugging to himself, he picked them up in quick succession and downed them. He’d paid for them after all. Now he just had to race them home before they made him sleepy or weepy or suicidal.  He slipped out of the booth and waited for Mimi to be busy before heading to his truck. He didn’t think she’d stop him, but he’d never done 5 shots in less than two hours and then tried to drive home. He just couldn’t stand to be there anymore in the steadily more jubilant atmosphere, and he didn’t want anyone to save him tonight. He could go home and pass out and forget about Alex Manes. He could stop chasing a dream.

              When Michael stumbled into the airstream half an hour later, he had no clue how he hadn’t just died. He remembered driving. He remembered feeling like driving was a terrible idea and that he absolutely should not be doing it in the condition he was in. He remembered waiting to see another car on the road or a deer or anything that would spook him into swerving and flipping his truck, but he hadn’t. He’d made it back to the airstream. When he’d opened the car door, he’d fallen out and found himself looking at the everything sideways until he turned his head and looked at the stars swirling drunkenly in the sky. The earth was hard and still hot under him from the sweltering day. The gravel and dust clung to the side where he’d landed, digging into his skin. For as drunk as he was, shouldn’t he be number than this to discomfort?

It had taken him way too long to navigate making himself stand up so he could stagger the five steps to the trailer door. His hand gripped the door handle hard and he’d lurched and crawled up the two stairs into the airstream’s interior. Once inside, he immediately began to undress. He no longer wanted to wear the dirty, sweat stained work shirt. He didn’t want to wear the rough, torn jeans or his ragged underwear. He didn’t want to feel the caked layer of dust, grease, and salt that covered him head to toe. And he didn’t want to think that when Alex found him later he’d be too gross to touch.

That thought had him pause, naked and swaying in the door to the bathroom. Maybe Alex should find him gross. Maybe Alex deserved to see what it did to him to know he was in town, acting normal by day only to find Michael after all the lights in the town had gone out and show his real skin. Maybe Alex should know that Michael was as filthy on the outside as he was being treated. If Michael was going to be kept like a dirty secret, maybe he should just stay dirty. Who was Alex Manes to treat Michael like he was something shameful? He should tell Alex that. Should tell him not to come and see him anymore. Not to expect any further special treatment from Michael.

Making a decision, he turned and tried to grab his jeans from the floor so he could get his phone. He fell, landing hard with his shoulder digging into the cabinet door handles. Hissing, he ignored the pain and scrambled to pull the hard rectangle from his crusty jeans. He opened the screen and debated texting or calling before realizing he didn’t think he could coordinate his fingers well enough to text while this hammered. The tequila was starting to give his body ultimatums on whether it too would stay or go. The pain where he’d fallen against the door handle was stinging and he looked over to see blood running down his arm. Groaning, he reached up and hauled himself off the floor and onto his bed. He surveyed the contents of the trailer for something that he could see to dull the ache. A couple empty bottles of acetone lay on their sides at his worktable. He’d forgotten to buy more. A half empty bottle of Jose Cuervo sat across from him on the stove. He reached over and opened the bottle one handed, unscrewing the top with his thumb. He sloppily poured some over the wound ‘to clean it’ and then took a hearty swallow ‘for courage’. Swaying where he sat, he looked down at the phone again and found Alex in his contacts, hitting Call before he could talk himself out of it.

“Hello?” Alex answered the phone. Michael stayed silent, listening to the music and laughter emanating from the background noise. It didn’t sound like the Pony. Maybe that new gay bar in town? Maybe Alex was trying to replace him, take up another so he didn’t have to put up with Michael’s melodrama. Did Michael want that? Alex sounded good though a little confused as to why Michael was actually calling him instead of just waiting around to his turn at Alex’s attention, but…. Still, so good.

“Michael?” Alex whispered his name into the phone. Michael could almost see him turning and walking away from whoever he was with so they wouldn’t hear him say Michael’s name, wouldn’t know who had called him. Michael was breaking the rules. Alex was supposed to come to him when he wanted and he wasn’t supposed to go looking for him. He was the bad thing that had to be done with no body else’s knowledge so they wouldn’t judge Alex.

“Guerin, are you there?” Alex asked again, voice a little louder but still hushed compared to the environment around him. Michael hoped that was concern he was hearing but decided it must be something more akin to frustration. What was he doing? Why had he called Alex?

“Don’t come over tonight,” Michael finally bit out. Then he waited, silent. He knew he should hang up and make his point. That’s all he’d called to say, right?

“Okay,” Alex replied slowly, drawing out the work and definitely sounding confused. “I’m in town for another couple days. Maybe tomo—”

“NO, ALEX. Don’t come over ANY NIGHT! I don’t want you to!” Michael yelled, hearing the slur in his voice and knowing he’d said too much. When he’d yelled, he’d apparently swung the arm not holding the phone and he heard the resulting crash of beer bottles hitting the trailer floor.

“Are you okay? You sound drunk. Are you at the Pony? Do I need to come get you?” Alex asked, voice sharpening with concern. Michael scoffed.

“Fuck you. I don’t need you to take care of me. And I don’t want you to come here. I don’t want to see you, Alex. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want to love you. I’m fucking over this shit,” Michael babbled, sinking backwards into the worn thin mattress of his bed.  He’d misjudged how close he’d been to the window though and his cut arm scraped against the rough edges of the window pane. “Fuck, Ow!”

“Michael!” Alex’s voice trilled in his ear, sounding alarmed and concerned. Michael heard a muffled male voice ask Alex a question and the muffled scrape of Alex’s hand covering the receiver as he answered ‘It’s fine. I’ll be there in a minute.’

“Ugh, I’m getting blood all over my fucking blanket,” Michael said distractedly, sitting back up and looking around for a towel.

“Why are you bleeding? ARE YOU OKAY?” Alex asked, voice beginning to sound frantic or as frantic as he ever sounded. Disaster didn’t really touch Alex the way it would touch normal people. Not after his childhood. Not after what he’d seen with the military.

“I’m FINE. I just cut myself. It just blood, I’ll be fine. Fuck, why is there so much blood?” Michael asked aloud as he grabbed his dirty shirt from the floor to press against the wound.  There were a few scattered drops on his sheets and he’d have to get the hydrogen peroxide to see if he could get them out.

“I’m coming over there, Michael,” Alex snapped. Michael felt himself jerk to attention. He’d forgotten he was on the phone. Alex’s statement made his irrational anger bubble up again.

“Noooo. No don’t come over here. I don’t want to see you. Haven’t you been fucking listening? I…” he breathed heavily, almost seeing the liquor vapors in the air from where he was huffing out his breaths. He tried to summon up the last parts of him that were sober to keep telling Alex to stay away, but instead he started blurting out whatever came to mind. “I haven’t even showered. I’m disgusting. Don’t come over. I’m fine, I’m fine. My bloods just thin from the tequila. You don’t need to care about me. I’m not worth it. I’m disgusting. I’ll be fine. I’ll either wake up tomorrow morning or I’ll choke on my vomit and die. It’s… whatever, really. Stay with your friends. Have a good night, Alex.”

If Alex replied, Michael didn’t hear him because his eyes drifted shut and he was not aware of anything for a while.

  When Michael woke up, he was still aching from his shoulder and he was still very drunk…and he was alone. He looked around the airstream, hoping to see Alex somewhere doing something…something to take care of him. When he didn’t see him and after lying very still in the dark, didn’t hear him, Michael felt his heart shred and shatter in his chest. He was supposed to come save him. He was supposed to come take care of him. He was supposed to show up and love Michael and then tomorrow! Tomorrow he’d feel this way. But not tonight. Tonight, he was supposed to be loved.

The tears fell first, but the sobs that clawed out of his throat came soon after. He hated himself for calling Alex and telling him not to come over. He hated himself for wanting to see Alex more than he ever wanted to save himself from pain. He hated the weak, high-pitched sounds that pushed past his teeth when he tried to stop himself from giving into this despair and he hated the low, open mouthed howls that echoed into the stuffing of his pillow as he rolled into a ball to try and hold himself together even while he knew he was broken beyond repair.

Hands smoothed over his shoulders and started pulling at him to turn over, away from the muffled safety of the pillow. He fought those hands, trying to shake them off even as he tried to curl further into himself. This ghost needed to let him bleed everything out.

“Michael!” a familiar voice called, breaking through his haze a little. “Michael, stop! STOP!”

He stilled, following the command and waiting for something worse to follow. Something worse always followed. It had every time he’d given in to how much pain he was feeling.

“Michael, look at me.”

He slowly opened his tear swollen eyes and looked up at the shadowy figure above him. He didn’t need the dim lights of the trailer to know whose hands were gripping his shoulders even if he hoped he was wrong.

“I told you not to come,” Michael croaked out, embarrassed when his voice broke on the last word. He could hear the weakness and water in his voice. The creaking dam of emotion he still hadn’t cried out threatening to burst back through at any moment.

“Michael,” Alex said his name again, soft and chiding. One of his hands, the one on the uninjured shoulder, rubbed soothingly up and down his arm.

“I don’t want you here,” Michael said again, trying to ignore the way his body was already loosening its cramped curl in response to Alex’s skin on his.

“I know. I know,” Alex agreed, before crawling over Michael and laying himself down with his back to the window. His body faced Michaels on the bed and his hand never stopped its slow back and forth movement over his tricep. “But I couldn’t hear you like that and not come check on you. Where did all of that come from, babe?”

The pet name felt like a puncture in the last piece of his heart that had been intact. He felt his breath shuddering past his lips as he tried to contain himself enough to answer. He must’ve taken too long, because he felt Alex’s body slide closer and arms wrap around him, pressing him into the warm, herbaceous scent of Alex’s shirt. He rested his cheek against the top of Michael’s head and Michael felt their knees brush against each other.  Michael’s fingers uncurled from where they’d been clenched tight against his own chest and he reached forward, wrapping the fabric of Alex’s shirt into his hands as he felt more sobs break free from his body. He tried to keep them quiet, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone anymore. At least no one in this trailer.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m sorry I’m here if you really don’t want me to be. But you’re obviously hurting right now. I can’t just let that happen and not see if I can help. We’re friends, right? Friends don’t let each other hurt like this without trying to comfort them,” Alex murmured softly into his hair. Those warm, gentle hands were now petting his hair and rubbing his back. He could feel his muscles loosening and the fight going out of him. He just wanted to melt into the man in front of him. He wanted to be the one who carved out a place under his skin and lived there for the few days they’d have together. He wanted to be the one who left the hollow spaces for once.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back,” Michael murmured into the space between Alex’s shoulder and neck. “Friends keep in fucking touch. You never tell when you’re coming back and when you’re here, you never stay. You find an excuse and disappear. I always wake up used up and alone.”

“Guerin….” Alex started, sighing heavily.

“Don’t call me by my last name. I get it, I’m just… part of coming back here. A chore you check off your list. You don’t have to keep coming here if you don’t want me, Alex,” Michael finished, uncramping his fingers from Alex’s shirt and starting to pull himself away. He was getting a headache from crying and the liquor and the long day. He was ready to turn over and go to sleep. He didn’t want to do this anymore.

“Michael,” Alex started again, his tone softer than before even as his hands held Michael firmly in place, not letting him draw away. “I don’t know what to say here. You’re not a chore. I will never and have never thought of you as an obligation. I always look forward to seeing you, but we don’t run in the same circles. We never have. And this never goes anywhere because I’m always going to leave. I can’t stay here with you, Michael, I’m sorry. Coming back to Roswell always leaves me feeling like I’ve time traveled and gotten stuck in a time vaccuum.”

Michael felt the burn begin again behind his eyes and his throat start to tighten.

“But when I’m here, I’m yours. You’re one of the only good things I get out of coming home,” Alex finished, finally letting go of Michael and drawing back to lay his head down beside Michael’s on the mattress. Michael felt a tear drip off his cheek as he stared at the fathomless brown eyes staring into his. He hoped Alex hadn’t seen the tear because of the shadow on his face, the dark hiding how much he always hurt when Alex was with him. Sometimes it was knives, sometimes it was ecstasy, but always it was pain.

“I’m yours, too. When you’re here, I’m yours,” Michael finally responded in a small voice, sliding his hands over Alex’s chest and up to cup his jaw gently. He’d decided he had all he could handle of the knives for tonight. Now he wanted the ecstasy. He wanted to hold Alex on his tongue and under his fingernails and inside of him. He needed the memories to get through another three years of his heart being caught in a fist of anxious worry over whether he’d get to see Alex alive again. How much of the Alex he loved would be left after more witnessed atrocities in name of his country?

Alex leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, his breath brushing Michael’s lips and chin. Michael didn’t want Alex to remember him like this.

“Let me up, I’m going to take a quick shower. I really am… pretty fucking filthy right now,” Michael admitted, laughing weakly. Alex smiled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his mouth before sitting up to watch him. Michael sat up, noting that while not trashed, he was still a little floaty. He was sober enough to feel embarrassed about Alex having to come rescue him because he was naked, drunk, and emotional. He stood and managed the two steps to the bathroom, turning on the water in the cubicle shower. He walked in and let the warm water wash over him, the thudding of his heart in his ears as he leaned forward, setting his hands on either side of the shower head. He let his forehead rest against the back of the shower stall while he tried to wrap his mind around the night so far. Another fine mess he’d made. A breeze at his back made him look over his shoulder and he saw Alex stepping into the tiny space with him.  

“I’m not sure this shower is big enough for anything athletic,” Michael commented trying to ignore his bodies near Pavlovian response to seeing Alex naked. Alex hummed at him and wrapped his arms around Michael’s wet torso, pulling their bodies flush together under the water spray.

“I’m just helping you wash your back,” he teased, reaching past Michael and pulling the bar of soap down from the inset shelf. Michael closed his eyes and nodded, trying not to feel overwhelmed at how easy this was when it shifted from emotions to sex. How his body was always ready to forgive the sins and slights his mind had tallied up between them. How starved he was for this feast of flesh between them.

Michael groaned as he felt Alex’s hands start to slide over his wet skin, the bar of soap adding a welcome pressure against his abused muscles. His cock which had started to perk up at the view of Alex naked was starting to harden and strain towards his stomach with every brush of Alex’s body against his. It was impossible for Alex to move without some part of him touching Michael’s in the small space of the airstream’s shower. Michael couldn’t even turn around without them having to negotiate intensely so as not to end up with an elbow in someone’s eye or a knee bruising.

While Michael tried to find his focus, he felt Alex’s hands going over everywhere on him. Those well-defined hands were sliding up and down his back and over his shoulders and arms. His square, thin artist’s hands massaged Michael’s sides and then slid down to dig into the muscles of his lower back, and again lower onto his ass cheeks, dipped his thumbs into his crack and back out and around. He’d replaced the soap on the shelf and then his hands were sliding up Michael’s stomach and over his chest, pulling his back flush against Alex’s body. He felt Alex’s teeth settle onto his shoulder, even as his hips ground forward, his hard cock sliding between Michael’s cheeks making him moan loudly. He reached behind himself and grabbed at Alex’s hip, trying to pull him closer and let him grind harder against his backside. He felt Alex push his cock down, angling it low and letting it slip into the space between Michael’s legs. The spongey, hard tip tracing over his tight pucker and perineum, teasing behind his balls before drawing back. Immediately he closed his thighs as Alex started to pump his hips with earnest, water and soap helping slick the way for Alex’s cock.  With every catch of Alex’s cock on his hole, he felt his sanity slipping from him. He wanted to feel him stretching his insides open, pushing his way in and making a home for himself in Michael’s body.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good. I want to be in you, babe. I wish I could just slip in,” Alex gasped into the meat of his shoulder, a hand sliding between their bodies so Alex could press and rub his fingers over where Michael needed him most, “right here. I want to be right here with you. Do you want that, babe?”

Even as his other hand drifted down to land on Michael’s achingly hard cock, Michael was grinding back against Alex’s hand, letting the tip of one finger breach him. It wasn’t enough, but it still felt like being on a better plane of existence. Michael groaned, reveling in the slick soapy slide of Alex’s hand on him and the slow thrusting motions that had been taken back up behind him driving him insane.

“Do you want that, Michael? Can I get you out of this shower and lay you down and take you apart? Make you scream for me? Get you nice and dirty again?”

“Alex,” he sighed, body throbbing with his need for this man. His name felt like a prayer and a curse and he could remember all too well how good Alex was at making him come apart at the seams.

“What do you want, Michael?” Alex asked, stilling his movements and just hugging Michael’s body back against his. He didn’t sound angry, just inquiring, as if he cared what Michael really wanted from him. His breath was ragged against the back of Michael’s ear. He sounded as desperate as Michael felt. Awkwardly, Michael turned and maneuvered until here could partially face Alex. The water was starting to cool in the shower and it only heightened how unnaturally warm his skin was in the small space. Michael looked at the water dripping from Alex’s hair and down his glorious, golden body. He took in the intense stare those dark chocolate eyes had pinned on him and could suddenly see what Mimi had meant. Alex looked like he was trying to figure Michael out, like he was waiting for an epiphany to what all of this meant. Michael knew he must be looking at Alex like he was the answer, because he was. He was the answer to all the questions that Michael had.

He leant in and pressed his lips to Alex’s. He tried to give Alex some of the answer he was looking for in that kiss, using his lips and tongue to spell out the words ‘I love you’. Alex kissed him back, equaling his fervor and clutching at his back and neck to keep him close. When they broke for air, Michael reached back to the shower wall and shut off the water.

“Take care of me, Alex. Love me. Fucking wreck me. Do whatever you want,” he gritted out the last words feeling reckless as he was lunging forward to begin kissing again. Alex hummed his understanding against Michael’s mouth and they stumbled, dripping, out of the shower stall. Michael backed Alex up against the small sink and broke away from his lips to start kissing down his chest and stomach. His knees hit the floor hard and he ran his hands up Alex’s thighs while he stared up into his face. Alex looked down at him in hunger, hand cradling his jaw before Michael leant forward and took the head of his cock into his mouth. His eyes fluttered at the clean taste of his skin and the familiar firm length of him sliding over his tongue. He looked through his eyelashes up at Alex to see him gripping the counter and biting his lip as he watched Michael take him down over and over. This is what power felt like.

On a whim, Michael grabbed the back of Alex’s thighs and pulled him slightly forward as he dove his head in, letting Alex’s cock slip into his throat where he swallowed around it. Alex’s hand shot out, diving into the wet curls on Michael’s head, tugging as he groaned at the sensation. Michael pulled back and slowly worked his way back down the next time, letting Alex appreciate his gag control as his nose brushed the other’s pubes.

“Shit, Michael, if you keep that up I’m going to cum down your throat,” Alex gasped out, failing to stop his hips from a small fluid grind into Michael’s mouth as he looked down at him. Michael pulled back, wrapping his hand around Alex’s prick and continuing to jack him slowly while he answered.  

“Better get the first one out of the way, Alex. I want you to be able to fuck me for hours,” he replied.

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex breathed his name almost reverently, tightening his hand in Michael’s curls momentarily. Michael took his hand away from Alex’s cock, letting it jut into the air between them. Then he opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out and looking up at Alex expectantly. Biting his lip, Alex used his unoccupied hand to grip his dick and feed it over Michael’s tongue and into his mouth. He wasn’t truly thrusting, just letting the hot flesh slide shallowly in and out of Michael’s open mouth. “You’re so good at that, Michael. You’re so fucking perfect for me. I love it when you’re cock hungry and needy like this.”

“Make me yours, Alex. I want you to claim me,” Michael replied after backing off for a moment. He stared at Alex, running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. He’d never get tired of touching Alex this way. The smooth, tan skin showing off the now familiar muscles the Air Force had trained into him. He took Alex back in his mouth, tongue gliding liquidly over the silky skin and lips pulling him closer to orgasm with every deep swallow. Michael reveled in this feeling of giving Alex what he wanted, what he thought he needed, and knowing if he stopped at just the right time, he could have him begging. But he didn’t want him to beg. He only wanted him to keep wanting to come back.

“Shit, Michael. Oh fuck, just like that, baby. I’m so close. Do you want me to come in your mouth?” Alex asked, breathless and desperate sounding. Michael could tell he was close, could feel the tightening of his body and the final swell starting in his cock before he blew his load. He nodded minutely, catching Alex’s eyes and winking up at him. Alex just whimpered and panted, hips started to stutter against Michael’s mouth, losing their rhythm as Alex’s body started to overload on sensation. Then Michael was swallowing, letting the warm, salty spurts from Alex’s body rest only a moment on his tongue before pulling it in.  He held Alex in his mouth until he finished and calmed down, then slowly backed off, licking the skin clean as he went. Alex twitched from the overstimulation, but Michael was fully aware of how much Alex could handle before it become too much.

“Come here,” Alex breathed as he pulled Michael up from his knees. His kiss was sloppy and slightly uncoordinated since his orgasm, but Michael let him take control of it anyway. He liked Alex like this, sated but still hungry for more.

“Go to the bed, grab lube and a condom, and get on your hands and knees for me,” Alex commanded against his lips. Michael felt a shudder go through his body as he met Alex’s eyes. He loved it when Alex told him what to do. Alex held his gaze for a moment before leaning in towards his ear and whispering, “Go on now. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Michael turned and walked back into the main area of the Airstream. He reached into the drawer under his bed and pulled out the half-used bottle of lube and a condom. He threw them onto the bed by his pillow before crawling forward on his hands and knees to wait for Alex to come out of the bathroom. It wasn’t a long wait and it wasn’t a long walk before he felt Alex’s hands on his hips, thighs warm as they pressed against the back of his own. He pressed his hips back against Alex’s, back bowing and putting himself on display to entice Alex to hurry the fuck up already. A hand smoothed down his back, tracing his spine and then further down into the cleft between his cheeks, fingers once again resting against his hole.

“This where you want me, Michael?” Alex asked quietly, fingers rubbing small circles around the tight ring of muscle. Michael moaned and pressed his body back, needing more. “Use your words.”

“Yesss,” Michael hissed through his teeth, hands coming up to grip at his own damp curls. “Please Alex, I need you.”

“Okay, baby,” Alex said, bending hid body over Michael’s to grab the lube and condoms to have closer to him. He kissed along Michael’s back and ribs as he retreated, his teeth pinching small pieces of flesh between them and making Michael cry out softly with the exquisite pleasure-pain of it. He felt Alex’s body heat draw away from his and heard the scrape and shuffle of Alex moving behind him, but before he could glance past his shoulder to see what was happening, he felt Alex’s mouth on one of his ass cheeks, sucking and marking the flesh with his mouth. A wet finger prodded at his hole and he pushed back trying to let it sink in. Alex moved his finger away with Michael’s movement and he heard himself whining in frustration.

              “I’m sorry, I’m being a tease,” Alex chuckled against the skin of his hip. He gave Michael a quick peck there and then Michael felt the pressure of his finger again. This time it didn’t stop, just slowly, inexorably pushed into him. He bit his lip to stop himself screaming in frustration. Alex slid his finger in and out, finger barely brushing over that bundle of nerves that would have Michael howling and feral if worked right.

              “It’s not enough. More, Alex,” he begged. Alex’s mouth kissed the skin of his hip, then the dimple of his ass, and then closer still to where his finger and leisurely moving in and out of Michael’s body. Michael felt Alex’s lips then, a soft sucking caress on the skin stretched around his finger. Then the strange, erotic slide of his tongue. Michael’s body started to shake at the sensation, his cock giving a hard throb between his legs. Alex’s finger moved out of him and away, moved over to where it could splay over his ass cheek keeping Michael’s body pressed open wide for Alex’s mouth.

              Alex’s mouth was a dream. His hot, wet tongue gave wide, long swipes from Michael’s balls to his hole. He felt his lips sucking on the skin of his pucker, his teeth scraping softly and making him cry out against his forearm. He felt the prod and push of the muscle working its way past the tight ring of Michael’s entrance and spearing into him over and over. Alex’s unoccupied hand came up and wrapped itself loosely around Michael’s red, angry cock. He could feel Alex working his pre around the crown, making his hand slick against the skin as he began working it while he ate Michael’s ass. It was almost too much. He could vaguely hear himself moaning and gasping, his body undulating between the tongue in his hole and the hand steadily milking his cock. He felt a tingle in his core, body starting to tighten on him in anticipation of coming.

              “Alex, wait! I wanna come with your cock in me!” he cried out, even as he continued to thrust back against Alex’s face. The hand on his cock left him and he felt two fingers slip past Alex’s withdrawing tongue to start twisting and testing the muscles inside of him. Alex kept biting and sucking on the skin around his fingers, even as he hastily began to push a third on past Michael’s rim. It was a stretch and stung a little.

              “More lube,” Michael gasped, his body hunching away from the invasion slightly. Alex paused and withdrew his fingers most of the way out of Michael’s body. Michael could feel the cold spill of more lube around his hole and onto Alex’s hand. With the next push inward, the third finger slid in easier and while still a stretch, it didn’t hurt. Alex was twisting and flexing his fingers, trying to make sure he wouldn’t hurt Michael when he finally pushed his cock in, and his knuckles finally skated over Michael’s prostate enough to make him seize up and cough out a shout of pleasure. He knew Alex had gotten the picture when he rubbed his knuckles over the same place again, this time with more pressure.

              “Please, please, please, Alex,” Michael babbled, tears coming to his eyes as he fought down his body’s need to come. Alex was pressing on his spot with every thrust of his fingers now and Michael was fucking himself back on it even though it made him feel like he was about to shake apart.

              “You think you’re ready?” Alex asked, his voice registering rough and strained even through Michael’s sex drunk brain.

              “Yes, please Alex, I need you in me,” he cried.

              “Okay,” Alex sighed, sounding grateful somehow to Michael’s ears. Michael heard the crinkling of the condom packet and then the blunt pressure of Alex’s cock pressing at his hole. He moaned, rocking backwards against the pressure and feeling the head pushing past his outer ring of muscles slowly. Alex’s hands came to rest at his waist lightly, not pulling or directing Michael’s movement, but simply resting while Michael did the work. Michael relished the feeling of Alex entering him, loved that first stretch and burn around the other man’s body. When he felt the head pop past the inner ring, he gasped, rocking forward and backwards over again feeling just the tip of Alex pulling at the edges of him. He heard a curse from behind him and glanced over his shoulder at Alex.

              It was the first time he’d seen his face since they’d started this and he was glad it hadn’t happened until that moment. Alex looked wrecked. His eyes were glued down to where Michael was rocking onto him, lips red and swollen,  face flushed, and abdomen muscles jumping as he tried to control his movements so as to let Michael play with him as much as he wanted. He was rock hard, but he wasn’t desperate the way Michael was.

His eyes flicked up and he saw Michael staring at him. He smiled and bit his lip, pushing his hips forward the next time Michael flexed back and Michael lost his breath as another few inches were pushed into him. His eyes fluttered closed and he turned back to lay his head on his forearms, overtaken with how good it felt to have Alex in him. Alex withdrew, leaving Michael feeling empty, until he pushed in again, giving him more. He continued until Michael could feel his hips flush against him and then he stilled.

“Shit,” he heard Alex curse softly behind him. He flexed his muscles around the mass inside of him and felt the responding, possibly unconscious, grind of Alex against him.

“How do you still feel like this? You always feel like you were made for this, Michael. You always feel like you were made for me,” Alex asked in wonder, pulling back and starting a slow, deep rhythm that made Michael feel like he was going to explode. A hand smoothed up his back and hooked onto his shoulder, pulling Michael’s body with Alex’s and making it feel as he were able to push deeper with every thrust. Then the hand was pulling Michael up, pulling him back so he was on his knees, back bowed and gravity helping to push him down harder onto Alex. He felt Alex’s mouth on his shoulder and neck, his arms wrapping around his chest, roaming over his skin, tweaking his nipples and dipping past his navel to stroke at his drooling cock.

“Alex,” Michael sighed, one hand holding Alex’s head behind him, the other resting on Alex’s hip. “I need more.”

“What do you need?” Alex asked, body still fluidly fucking into Michael’s in that slow, deep draw and push. This position was much better for Michael’s prostate, but it just wasn’t enough. He needed more.

“Harder,” Michael gasped on a particularly pointed thrust, “Faster.”

Alex’s hands went to Michael’s hips to steady him and then he was picking up the pace. Michael felt the moans tumble out of him as Alex’s hips started slapping his, cock pistoning in and out of him, running sharply over his prostate and bringing him back to the crescendo of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, like that. Don’t stop, Alex, fuck, don’t stop,” Michael cried, finally putting a hand on himself and jacking his aching cock in counterpoint to Alex’s thrusts. He could hear Alex’s huffing breath and occasional grunts behind him, could feel his fingers starting to dig into the meat of his muscles, could feel his own body tightening around Alex’s cock, trying to keep him inside of him. His orgasm hit him like a freight train. His vision whited out, his body seizing up around Alex and his cock swelling and releasing over his fingers and palm. He felt Alex fuck him through it, thrusts jagged and almost too much against his prostate, but then he too was groaning like he was dying and slowing inside of Michael. Michael felt pulled back onto Alex’s lap and enjoyed the wet pants of breath against his sweat sheened shoulder blade.

Alex was always languorous and tactile after he came. He would hold Michael against him until he was too soft to stay inside and then he would let his fingers play over Michael’s puffed hole. He would kiss all the sweat from his body and murmur sweet nothings into his skin. Then he could get hard again and they’d go for another round until Michael was too sore or the sun came up, whichever was first. After the last time, sleepy and wrapped around Michael like an octopus, Alex would fall asleep with his head on Michael’s chest, breath softly stirring the golden curls of hair, and Michael would try to stay awake as long as he could because if he fell asleep, like with most good dreams, Alex would be gone once he woke up. Alex would leave while Michael slept, texting him later that he was sorry he had to go before Michael woke, and then he’d leave the country to fight some rich man’s war for him. Michael would once again cover up the place Alex had made for himself in his body and heart. He’d once again drown himself in the arms of others or the bottom of bottles, but that place stayed hidden and safe and waiting for Alex to come back home.

[loseyoutoloveme]

will you do a song by song review for life support? i really liked the ones for sweetener and thank you next!

oh absolutely, i’d love to! thank you for asking and being interested 🖤 all thoughts below.

the beginning:

this was such a great way to open this album, it’s so cinematic and really sets the mood so perfectly. one of my fav instrumental intros i’ve ever heard.

9/10

good in goodbye: “you put the over in lover, put the ex in next.”

the lyrics are so wonderfully corny and i’ll love this song forever, like the chorus is literally just so fun to sing along to.

i do think it feels a little... shallow compared to the rest of the album, and the album being released so long after this song came out makes it feel disconnected from the rest. but i love it so i don’t care.

7.5/10 

default: “i know, i know this must be coming for me, i swear, i swear i will be the end of me, the end of me.”

this song is just sooo...... OUCH!

i’m obsessed with the way the chorus just SOUNDS like an emotional spiral, like her life falling apart, like falling into a deep depression, and then the outro builds like destructive racing thoughts.

also i never noticed the wave crashing and the bubbles at the very beginning until really recently, and i love that little touch. the whole song feels so underwater. cloudy and fuzzy. it does a good job of depicting certain symptoms of various mental illnesses.

8.5/10

follow the white rabbit: “is it haunting, baby, that i’m wanting, baby, that i’m wanting, wanting you?”

i actually was fully not expecting to like this that much based off the snippets she’d shared, but omg this left me WEAAAAK on first listen, which was the best surprise

there are definitely so many layers to these lyrics too, despite it being just a bombastic sexy toxic love song on its surface, particularly when thinking about the album as a commentary on mental illness, and some of the breakup/love songs as metaphors rather than straightforward love songs. definitely about infatuation and toxicity and perhaps knowingly entering a bad relationship as a bad coping mechanism, a way to avoid dealing with your pain or (as we see in effortlessly) a way to just feel anything at all.

9/10

effortlessly: “i hold my breath to breathe, hurt me so i feel, used to do these things so effortlessly somehow.”

oh god this song is just a punch in the stomach

i ALSO didn’t really expect to love this one based on snippets but the lyrics are just devastating and perfect and i hope speak to anybody who has struggled with self-harm and medication.

i don’t even have thoughts on this song, it just makes me go jsn*@(#nkdasdnkasd7*@U#j2k3n

love that this is such a fan favourite. it deserves!

10/10

stay numb and carry on: “truth is it was never love, your fault if you thought it was.”

the reverse “i’ve become emotionless” at the beginning >>>

also love the “i was gin and you were toxic . . . wish we’d just stayed plaTONIC” like a platonic relationship would be the opposite of toxic. it’s such fun wordplay.

also “i don’t feel like anyone” makes me emo, she really just slid the most simple but heartbreaking lines in everywhere and you don’t notice them until they hit you out of nowhere one day and you’re like ...OH

AND THE WAY HER VOICE STARTS TO GO MONOTONE AT “i’ve become emotionless” 

in conclusion, madison beer is a vessel for god

10/10

blue: “you could be as sweet as honey but i knew the darkness in your mind.”

this is my least favourite on the album but it’s still fantastic

the lana influence is clear without being too copycat, like it’s still SO madison. sorta like lana’s video games modernized and adapted into something truer to madison’s vibe.

love love love the whole outro

glad that this wasn’t a single like it was planned to be

7/10

interlude: “would you do that shit for me too?”

VOCODER RIGHTS

this album in general is just not really for people who don’t like vocoders and lots of technical effects. i looove that she leaned into it so hard bc it’s so HER.

this song also has so much depth for an interlude, relaying the experience of feeling SO hard about people, and realizing like you’re putting in way more than you’re getting back.

the post-chorus is like... 🤩🌌💫☄️🌠

7.5/10

homesick: “these humans speak my language, still don’t understand it.”

THIS SONG...... IS MY BABY......

oh god it just breaks my heart on every listen. the image in my head is of a little girl talking to the stars.

and why does the line about her mom and dad make me wanna cry every time? i have no idea.

I BELONG IN SPACE...... FLOATING WITH DEBRIS.......

i’m sure she’s not the first person to ever use this metaphor for mental illness, expressing the alienation of mental illness (especially one as stigmatized and misunderstood as bpd) by talking about LITERAL aliens sdkjfsdfksd, but she does it SOOOOO well and sincerely that it feels like it’s uniquely hers.

the rick & morty sample is so funny and so weird and so madison. i will probably never watch an episode of that show in my life.

10000000000/10 this song is the loml

selfish: “shouldn’t love you but i couldn’t help it, had a feeling that you never felt it.”

my absolute favourite of all of the singles, noooo question about it. it’s a perfect, perfect, perfect song.

two years, alone on new years’, nightclubs, gemini... women writing lyrics with very specific details about the shitty men that the song is about... it’s everything to me.

this song will just NEVER age. every time i listen to it, it’s like the first time all over again.

10/10

sour times: “don’t know what song of mine you heard that made you think i’d want to spend the night with you.”

home with you’s big sister<3 

not the strongest lyrics, but the concept and production are more than strong enough to carry the song.

she came on this bitch mad as hell

also love that this have been another fan favourite, seemingly??

men gross

9/10

boyshit: “don’t know how to talk or communicate, we’re so on and off, to you it’s a game.”

it took me awhile to get into this when it was a single ngl, probably because it came out the same night as evermore sjdknfsfnkjsd, but once i got into it, it became the best song ever

she’s soooo reliable with her “men ain’t shit” songs ugh

8.5/10

baby: “i’m a handful but that’s what hands are for.”

when this came out as a single it was the only thing i listened to for a solid week and a half. just an excellent song. the chorus is evvverrryttthhhiiinnnnggg.

WHAT IS IT SO CATCHY FOR?

9.5/10

stained glass: “my life’s a still fading memory of what i can’t have, and everything ’round me is starting to fade into black, but black and white is so much better, i’m learning how to hide my colours.”

i’m so surprised by how much non-stans seem to love this omg, it’s never been a fav of mine, as much as i still love it

but i’m obsessed with how different and distinctly madison it is

also this is a much more genuine take on the “pls stop being mean to me just bc i’m famous / you don’t know what people are going through” type of song than most of the others i’ve ever heard. her pain is evident, and the soft “i just might break” is just..... </3

the glass breaking and little scream are so good

she loves a good metaphor and so do i!

7.5/10 

emotional bruises: “how do i word this? was about to write you this letter, but it was just curses in cursive, you probably deserve it.”

this was definitely my most anticipated song along with everything happens for a reason, like i listened to the snippet on repeat CONSTANTLY lmao. and the full song definitely lived up.

the scribbling sound is so fun, i love her obsession with little real-life sound effects

10/10

everything happens for a reason: “i still can’t find a reason you’d wanna hurt me so bad.”

THIS SONG IS VERY MUCH EVERYTHING

again, this was for sure one of my most anticipated songs and just kjsadsdkajsm god i love love love it

i think she posted a video one time of the song over a clip of the mermaids from peter pan and it was so pretty and i still picture that video when i hear this song. it’s just soooooo hazy and dreamy and retro and perfect.

also the song on the album where she got to show off her vocals the most. she found her niche with this song, truly.

100/10

channel surfing/the end: “YOU’REBADFORMYHEALTHISHOULDPROLLYKEPTSOMEHELPICANTCONTROLMYSELFIMADDICTEDOTHEHELL”

oh my god i was FLOOOOOORED at the dear society clip. dear society was and is one of my FAVOURITE songs, and i appreciate her reasoning for not including it on the album (just wanting some space for a new song instead of one we’d already had for so long), but it did hurt a lil. i was so happy she found a little way to include it :’) rip to hurts like hell tho since she didn’t get the same treatment sjdnksd.

the channel surfing is also just such a fun concept for an outro.

and her laughing with her producers at the end followed by such a sweet calming tropical instrumental...... oooo it’s so nice, it feels like the calm after the storm.

10/10

overall, this album was just SO worth the wait, it’s so fantastic, it’s the loml, one of my favourite albums ever. i LOVE that it’s helped anyone with BPD feel seen and understood, and as someone who doesn’t have bpd but has a couple of loved ones who do, the emotions she expressed in these lyrics have helped me to understand this disorder more too. just such a special album.

most of the criticism i’ve seen of the album has been that it’s overproduced, and that’s definitely criticism that i understand, bc it IS heavy on the technical side and some people just don’t like very heavy production, buuuut... some people do! i do! madison does! and heavy production does not automatically make an album bad. this type of production isn’t something that i expect her to move away from, because it’s clearly her thing, and maybe that just means her place in the industry will be more with the heavy heavy pop fans and maybe even in more hyperpop circles. i also think it’s SUPPOSED to be overproduced; it’s supposed to be a mess of emotions and sometimes a little chaotic. she executed it very well.

i hope by the time her next album is out, people will stop comparing her to like every single artist out there. some reviewers seem determined to pigeonhole her and compare her to every female artist under the sun, which feels like an absolute disservice to me. she is influenced by many different people and they comes out in her music, as it does any artist’s because everybody has their inspirations, but her sound is VERY much her own. as someone who has liked her for years, i can absolutely feel her essence in each song and nobody else’s.

a 10/10 album and such an amazing, promising debut<3  

[yee-fxcking-haw]

What Happens Next?

A/N: This chapter is kind of short, so I hope you still enjoy it! The next chapter will definitely have a lot of smut and cheesy stuff in it so stay with me lol. If you want added to the taglist or if I was the worst and forgot to tag you please just message me and let me know!!

Summary: You and James finally have that long avoided talk.

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of mental illness, implications of sexual assault.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four Playlist

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Part Five

Annie's Diner

James orders two chocolate milkshakes and plate of fries, thanking the waitress with a beautiful smile. Sitting in this diner with him feels absolutely surreal. It's obvious to you why you've refused to say a word to him since prom. He makes you weak. You feel yourself falling again, you're so easily swayed by him and you don't even want to fight it.

"Are you sure that's all you want to eat?" He asks, obviously trying to be careful with his words.

You just nod without a word. You keep your eyes glued to the table, pretending to be very intrigued by it. It kills you that this is almost awkward. You never dreamed that you and James would ever have a moment that would feel this unnatural.

"Doll?" He says, his voice has a questioning tone.

"I told you not to call me that." You say without looking up. You don't want to hear him call you that name ever again, he poisoned it when he used it for that other girl.

"What's her name?" You ask quietly, glancing up at him.

He sighs deeply, accepting the inevitable question.

"Elise, I never wanted to take her to prom." He explains.

"So you dumped for me somebody you didn't even like! That makes me feel so much better, thank you so much James." You say, filled with anger at his sorry ass explanation.

"She started the rumors about you, not me. As soon as she got into the gym that night she started spreading them." He blurts out, obviously desperate to convince you of his innocence.

"Honestly, I don't care who started the rumors. It almost makes it worse that you didn't. If you had, then you would at least be able to plead the case of clinging to your own lie, of not wanting to embarrass yourself by telling everyone that you were an asshole that made that shit up. Since somebody else started them, you had nothing to lose by telling everyone the truth. You didn't though, so that's what matters, not who started them, but the fact that you didn't stop them." You finish your little rant with a huge sigh.

Does he really think that he's going to get out of this by blaming somebody else? James just sits there, eyes wide. He looks so defeated already, like you just sucked all the life out of him. Maybe he's really starting to grasp just how much pain he's subjected you to.

"You're right, I didn't. Because I cared too much about what people thought and I was scared. I was stupid, and selfish, and it made me lose the best thing that's ever happened to me." He looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Save the Shakespeare bullshit, James. If I was the best thing you've ever had you wouldn't have thrown me away for somebody who meant nothing." You retort.

"I did not fucking throw you away. I did not dump you. I showed up expecting to meet you with Elliot and Henry, but then the girls were there like an ambush or something." He says, his voice laced with frustration.

"Listen to me, if I had turned Elise down right then and there, your life would have become a living hell." He says, lowering his voice like he's scared somebody will hear.

"Right, because she didn't do that anyway." You snap, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Do you remember that girl at the beginning of the year, the one that sang the national anthem at the football game?" He asks urgently.

You try to think back, you do remember her a little. She wasn't here for very long though, just long enough to sing the national anthem and then she left the school abruptly. She had the most beautiful black hair, that seems to be the only detail you can remember about her.

"Elise wanted to sing that, but the principal liked the way Wendy sang it." You begin to put the pieces together.

"When Elise found out that she wasn't going to sing it, she got very close to Wendy all of a sudden. She found out that she was pregnant because she was foolin' around with one of the football players." He explains.

"So she told the principal and got Wendy expelled." You fill in the rest.

"Where's Wendy now?" You ask.

"Last I heard she left town, she was about 6 months pregnant when she moved. Her and her parents just up and left one day." He says.

"Is that according to Elise?" You ask.

"That's according to Andrew, the guy that knocked her up." He states.

You sit quietly for a second, could one girl really hold that much power over a school? You think back to when you were called to the principal's office that Monday afternoon. You had plead your case honestly, but all the principal had to say was, "Evidence suggests otherwise". What the hell did that even mean? It sort of made sense now. Adults have never been good at taking people your age seriously. Especially if it's a grown man being asked to listen to a young woman. Unless of course, that young woman has something to offer him.

"So you were scared of what Elise might have done, then you saved your ass by pretending you didn't know me?" You ask, not really angry just trying to understand.

"I hate myself for it, but yes." He says.

"How did she even know you'd be there?" You ask, realizing how stupid the question is.

"Elliot told Annette, then Annette told Elise. You know how it goes." Annette is obviously one of the two girls that accompanied Elise that night.

"She was the one stalking me." He says.

"Stalking you?" You ask, your eyebrows shooting up in shock.

Just then the waitress shows up with your milkshakes and fries, sets them down quietly and asks if you need anything else. You say "no thank you" a little too quickly, trying to get back to the story James is telling as fast as you can.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You say, popping a fry in your mouth. Your anger is disappearing slowly, but you still cling to the fact that he hasn't made it right until now though.

"She was obsessed with me man." He says, sipping his shake.

"I caught her driving past my house, I even caught her looking in my bedroom window when I came home one night. I was scared what she might do to you if I didn't go along with what she wanted at prom." He seems genuinely stressed, visibly upset by how everything played out.

You just sit and listen, munching on your fries, occasionally drinking your shake. Every part of you wants to be mad at him, to yell at him for not making it right before now. He didn't even want to make it right really, he just happened to be at the dance hall tonight. By pure coincidence he saw Daniel dragging you out of there. Right? He couldn't have known you would be there tonight… unless.

"Molly?" You ask, realization suddenly hitting you like a bus.

He's not confused at all, his eyes just go wide.

"Molly set this up with you didn't she?" You say, voice growing in volume.

"She may have given me a call." He says calmly.

"Oh my God." You whisper.

"Doll, please-." You cut him off by staring daggers at him for using the nickname.

"Sorry, just please hear me out." He says cautiously.

"That's what I've been doing." You scoff.

He ignores your snark and keeps talking, taking it as some form of permission.

"I couldn't show any sign that I knew you at prom, for obvious reasons. I couldn't come talk to you after, I never found out where you live, I never got your phone number, I had no way of reaching you except for at school where you wouldn't even look at me. For good reason I know, but I just couldn't get to you." The words spill out of his mouth like he's running out of time.

"Then of course there was Elise, she was always breathing down my neck constantly. I tried to confront her one time, asked her what the hell her problem was. All she said was that I should watch it or she would get the principal involved. I can only guess that her rich ass parents were pumping money into the school, or maybe she was-"

"Or she was sleeping with the principal?" You interrupt to ask out of morbid curiosity, your eyebrows high and eyes wide.

"That's a possibility." James says.

"Either way, she had some kind of hold on him. Something that made it very difficult for him to combat anything she told him." He says.

"Jesus, this is like some twisted murder novel." You exclaim.

"Now I hate to use this line, but please believe me when I say this." He says with begging eyes.

"In a very messy way, I was trying to protect you. And when you wanted nothing to do with me, I couldn't force myself back into your life because that would just make you hate me more. I couldn't tell the school the truth because Elise would have dragged you down with me. If it had just been my own ass on the line I would have told everyone and their mother the truth, but I couldn't let her make things worse for you."

You both sit in silence, him waiting for a response, you waiting for him to go on.

"As soon as I could I found Molly and told her everything. She told me it would be hard to do, but that she was certain we could fix this."

"Traitor." You mutter, earning a chuckle from him.

"I had to wait. I'm not just saying this to sound dramatic, I was genuinely afraid of what Elise might do if she ever found out how I felt about you. Which are feelings I still have, by the way." He says quietly.

You just sit there, dumbfounded. He was being stalked, genuinely stalked. That's why he was so stiff that night, so unlike himself. Holy shit. James actually has a pretty good reason for what he did. It's not perfect by far, and you could sit here all night arguing about other options he may or may not have had. That would be a waste of time though. There's just one question burning in the back of your mind.

"Why didn't you ask Molly where I live, or what number to call?" You ask.

"I told you, I couldn't force myself into your life with you already so angry with me. While Elise could hurt me with words, I'm quite confident you could whoop my ass if I pushed you enough." He says, a teasing smile on his lips.

"I didn't want to ruin it doll, the most I could hope for was a night like tonight. I told you, I had to just wait. If I had pushed you or cornered you that would have been the last straw and you know it. I had to hold on to that hope that I had a sliver of a chance to…" He stops for a second, his face knits into a very pensive look.

"A chance to love you again." He finishes, seemingly content with the words he's found.

You hate how much sense it all makes. If Elise is really that batshit, he really had no other option than to just let everything play out until he could find a way to talk to you. A chance like tonight.

"That afternoon, it's irreplaceable. I know a lot of it happened really fast, and a lot of it was really intense." He says, the look in his eyes tells you he's thinking about the way you made love. Both of you were so reckless and full of passion. Your chest burns with desire, heart aching for his touch again.

"Well then what about now, James? Are we supposed to just be together and expect Elise to be over it just because we're not at school anymore? Is she still stalking you?" You ask.

"She's not here anymore. Her family moved to Florida, not before she broke one of the windows in my house for not calling her back though." He says and lets out a little laugh.

"Well shit." You say.

"So let me get everything straight. One of your friends let it slip to one of her friends that you would be at prom. She surprise attacked you and then you panicked and did your best to make it seem like you didn't know in an attempt to protect me. That wasn't good enough for her, so she started the rumors about me being your stalker for good measure?" You ask.

He nods silently.

"Then I was so pissed off that I wouldn't talk to you, for good reason in my mind. You couldn't expose the rumors as lies without painting an even bigger target on my back, so you just gave me my space, waited for Elise to not be a problem anymore, then conspired with my best friend to get me to the dance hall so you could finally have your chance to explain?"

Another quiet nod.

You chew your lip, it does all add up. You try to think of what you would have done in that situation. Of course you want to say you would never throw James under the bus, you would stand up for him and bravely profess your love, but human nature is a bitch. People panic and scramble to do what they think is best based on instinct. That's what James had done. You can't even be mad at him for not trying to get you alone to talk sooner, because you know you would have been too blinded with rage to do anything except flail your fists at him like you had earlier tonight.

"I am so fucking sorry doll." You don't even flinch at the name now.

"After I've said all of that, I need you to know that I know it's my fault. I should have told you about Elise that night on the roof, I should have warned you and kept you safe that way. I just didn't know how to really throw in the fact that I was being stalked without absolutely ruining everything. It was all so perfect, everything was perfect with you. It was all so new and overwhelming, I couldn't think straight. So when I saw you there, in those damn boots and that dress, I just fucking panicked. I only ever wanted to keep you safe, that's all I wanted. I just fucked it up. I really fucked it up." There are tears in his eyes now, he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and breathes deeply in through his nose.

He's watching you with those beautiful eyes, waiting for you to say something, anything.

Then it hits you, there's something he still hasn't done. With Elise gone he has no reason to not tell everyone she made it all up.

"Then why haven't you told everyone the truth? That I never stalked you, that Elise did, that it was all a lie and-"

"I have, everyone I could get to listen, I told. I told them as soon as Elise left." He says.

It makes sense that you never heard of him doing so. You've avoided everyone from highschool since you graduated. That would definitely explain the lack of stares and whispering at the dance hall. Your presence no longer caused anxiety in everyone, because they knew the truth.

"Why didn't you ever call the police on her Buck?" You ask, slipping back into the habit of using his nickname. His shoulders relax a little bit when he hears it leave your lips.

"What good would that do? She's too young to go to jail, so the only other place they'd put her in is the asylum." He says, his voice very serious.

You start to feel very sorry for Elise. She has all that beauty, but she's so very sick. You understand how somebody could be that crazy over James, he's everything a girl could want. Your mind wanders to what all Elise must have been through in order to be so unstable. Your heart aches for the girl you only spoke to once. You had seen her around school a handful of times now that you think about it hard enough. Always smiling, always talking to somebody, always looking so pretty. Even after she ruined prom for both of you, even after she stalked him at his house and damaged his property, he didn't want to ruin her life.

"Her friends came and talked to me after she started driving by my house. Of course I asked them what was wrong with her, all they could say was that her parents were both too obsessed with their wealthy socialite lives to give her the time of day, so she became desperate for any attention she could get, to the point of getting involved with faculty. They told me her family was moving eventually and begged me to let them and Elise's parents deal with the situation. That way Elise wouldn't get herself into a bigger mess." He says the last part with a low serious voice, your jaw drops when you catch his implication.

"Good God." You gape at him.

"So they begged you to wait until she had moved to tell everyone the truth, so she wouldn't snap and get herself into legal trouble?" You ask, filling in the blanks, everything making sense now.

He nods, "She left two weeks after graduation. She came to my house and cried on my porch for two hours the morning they moved."

He seems like he feels guilty, like he wishes he had done more.

"There's a million things I could have done differently, and I'm so sorry for all the things I should have done. I'm sorry for not telling you everything right away, I'm sorry for being so fucking cold to you at prom, I-"

"James." You say, reaching across the table to grab his hand, he stills completely and looks at you like a deer in headlights.

"It's ok. It was all a shitshow, and you were doing the best you could. I understand now, I can see how you were just trying to protect everyone. It's ok." You tell him.

Every ounce of anger and pain has left your body. It all makes sense now. James did all that he could to keep everyone involved from hurting anymore than they already were. At his own expense, maybe his execution wasn't flawless, but he did everything he could to make it right. He's still doing everything he can. He's sitting here with you, begging you for another chance, owning up to all the ways he fucked up. Had he really though? You realize something you haven't yet, James may very well have the biggest heart of anyone you know. Filled with enough kindness to even want to protect a person who made his life hell.

"She's sick James, you didn't want to fuck her life up anymore than it already had been. I don't blame you for that, I don't blame you for how you handled it." You explain.

God this night has done a complete turn around. As soon as you saw him, you agreed to talking with him and you fully expected him to tell you that he and Elise had been together all along, that he had gotten caught up in the moment with you and that he was sorry for leading you on. You never imagined that James had been carrying this load all by himself the past few months. It's all absolutely insane, and incredibly difficult to wrap your mind around. You feel so much relief at the fact that James had never lied to you about his feelings, and a significant amount of guilt for never reaching out to him to give him a chance to explain.

"I'm sorry that I never even-"

"Doll, don't. You had every reason to cut me out of your life. You were trying to protect yourself." He says, he squeezes your hand for reassurance.

You feel like you should have trusted what you shared that afternoon instead of acting purely on emotion, then maybe you would have been able to heal quicker. Then you remember the sensitive timeline with Elise, she would have done everything in her power to ruin what you and James have if she had been around to see it. Everything that happened had to happen that way for the safety of everyone involved.

"I haven't stopped loving you. I can't, I know I can't. Which sounds absolutely fucking insane, but I just feel it. You're still the most incredible thing I've ever seen." He says.

You don't even feel like you're in the diner anymore, it feels like you've floated to the roof and you're suspended in the sky, high off of the feeling of being loved again.

"It's ok if you can't say it back, I know we've only really spent half of a day together, but I've been miserable without you and I can't see myself ever feeling this way about somebody else so, I know what I feel. I know that I love you." He says it like somebody's about to cover his mouth to stop him from telling you.

You open your mouth to tell him that you love him too, that everything is ok, that you guys are going to figure it out, but you freeze when you hear the bell of the door jingle then see a large man in uniform walk through the door. You feel your entire body tense up, anxiety welling in your chest as your throat closes and your palms begin to sweat.

"Oh shit." You say quietly.

It's fucking Daniel, how the hell did he find you? He's accompanied by the boy that danced with Molly, and one other stocky blond man.

"What?" He asks, bewildered he turns his head towards the door.

"Oh shit." He says, whipping his head back around to look at you with terrified eyes.

"What's the plan if he-" James starts to say, but he's cut off by a loud voice.

"Hey punk, that's my girl you're sitting with." Daniel states, slurring his words just a little at the end.

James' chest inflates and he gives you a stern look. Anger flashes in his eyes.

"James don't." You try to say it as harshly as you can, but he's already moving before you can get the words out.

Everyone in the diner is frozen, watching with dropped jaws and wide eyes. Even the wait staff has paused to observe, those behind the counter have halted their cooking so they can gawk. This stupid small town, everyone's always so desperate for drama.

"Oddly enough, I don't remember her ever agreeing to be your girl." James starts, rolling up his sleeves as he talks. Is this idiot really about to try and fight off three soldiers?

"-but you don't strike me as a man who cares too much about consent." He says, dropping his voice a little to stress the weighty implications of his words.

Daniel's fists ball up at his sides, his friends start to glance around the diner with anxious eyes.

"Boys, if there's to be a fight y'all better take it outside." One of the older waitresses says loudly, obviously sick and tired of all these young bucks bringing their nonsense into her diner.

"What a great idea ma'am. Shall we gentlemen?" James asks with all the confidence in the world. God he really is an idiot.

"James-" You start, but the men are already stomping through the door into the parking lot.

"Fucking hell." You huff, you throw money down on the table out of your clutch, inevitably taking out way too much for some shakes and a plate of fries.

"Keep the change!" You say with an urgent voice as you gather yourself and run towards the door.

The boys have circled around to the side of the building, horrible fluorescent lights illuminating the scene. They've got James completely surrounded, almost backing him into a wall already. You know you aren't going to be able to stop this, not with all the damn testosterone and adrenaline already pumping through all of them. The most you can do is make sure it's a fair fight.

"Alright look. If y'all are gonna fight, you're not going to do this bullshit where you just outnumber him so you can win." You nearly shout.

"This is between James and Daniel, you goons need to step off." You say it like you're a strict teacher telling them off for whispering in class. You can't fucking believe that you're playing referee for this idiotic dick measuring contest.

"Unless you're all cowards who don't feel like you could beat him unless the fight is unfair." You finish then cross your arms, your plan to challenge their masculinity obviously working.

"I could take this prick in my sleep." Daniel says, rolling up his sleeves with clumsy drunk hands, "Watch and learn boys." His two friends glance at each other then take the cue to step back and let this fight be his.

James gives you a quick look, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a cocky smirk. His eyes say thank you, while he rolls his shoulders back and brings his fists up while Daniel steps towards him. Your fool in shining armor runs a hand through his hair and winks at you, you assume to thank you for getting Daniel's cronies to back off. You internally curse him for looking so damn handsome.

"Was one hit not enough pal? You want some more?" James says, cocky as ever. Your stomach twists with nerves, he's pushing it. He and Daniel are about the same size. Daniel is maybe an inch or two taller, but James has more bulk to him. Of course you want to say James is going to win, but it could really go either way.

Daniel sneers at him then cracks his knuckles, taking a hulking step towards James. James opens his mouth to make another snarky remark, but is cut short by Daniel's fist landing right on his jaw. Right where you hit him earlier. It makes a horrible cracking sound and blood sprays out of his mouth. You gasp and have to fight the urge to run and stand between them, knowing that would only make James more bent on fighting for you.

He seems completely dazed by the impact, stumbling back while he holds his face. He pulls his right hand away to look at the blood pouring out of his mouth. Before you can even process it, Daniel lunges at James, knocking him to the ground. They both smack on the pavement with a grunt, Daniel has James pinned to the ground and he just starts swinging, hitting anywhere he can, much like you did earlier. Except Daniel is drawing blood. James has his arms up, acting like a cage over his face. They're taking most of the blows, but Daniel occasionally gets his fist through to hit his face again.

"Fucking do something!" You scream at his gawking friends. They both jump and look at each other, not having any idea what to do.

"Stop!" You scream, running over to where Daniel is still laying into James.

You know you won't stand a chance just using your fists, so all you can think to do is kick. Kick like hell. You run up to Daniel, you bring your upper body in tight then let your right leg swing forward, bringing your foot full force into Daniel's face. He howls and falls back off of James, who takes the opportunity to jump and scramble backwards.

"You fucking whore!" Daniel yells, standing up to stalk towards you. That's when his friends finally intervene, each grabbing an arm to hold him back.

"Call the police, somebody call the police!" A woman's voice yells from behind you. You look wildly around, unaware of the crowd that had gathered.

Daniel and his friends panic at those words, faces white as they scramble back towards their car. Daniel turns and spits at you, swearing under his breath while his friends drag him away.

You hear James groan and your heart freezes in your chest. He's lying flat on his back, hands holding his face.

"Oh God, James." You run to him and drop to your knees. There's blood coming from his nose and his mouth, and his left eye is already swelling. He lets out a breathy laugh, gazing at you with heavy eyelids.

"I'm alright doll, doesn't hurt half as bad as when you socked me." He says, lopsided smirk spreading across his lips.

"You fucking idiot. Bucky, what the hell were you thinking?" You ask, cradling his head, you wipe his hair off of his forehead and cup his jaw. He looks up at you with an earnest look in his bright blue eyes, they appear almost silver in this lighting.

"He said you were his girl." He says with a weak voice.

"So?!" You almost yell at him, but you catch yourself.

"You're my girl." He says simply, then he winces and screws his eyes shut. His face relaxes and his head goes limp and falls to the side. Your chest fills with terror.

"James? James!" You yell, shaking him while you do. You know he isn't dead, but he's still unconscious, and that's enough to panic you. You hear somebody yell about an ambulance, but all you can focus on is James. God, this is all your fault.

@b-o-n-e-daddy @lillsrecs @all-art-is-quite-useless @brownlee-22 @peace-love-hobbitness @pinknerdpanda @supernaturalwintersoldier @can-i-sin-right-now @pennyroyalcreep @jessyballet @calwitch @aurora-sweet @learisa

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone:  Chapter 4

TITLE: Snowy Morning

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

The alarm sounds at ten to seven in the morning. The insistent and monotonous tone accompanied by the hustle and rumbles of snow plows clearing the streets below and the scrapes and bangs of shovels as neighbours tend to their properties. Despite the three Christmases spent in New York City and the nearly five years living in Telluride, he’s still not one hundred percent sold on the winter season. While the snow IS beautiful and the mere sight of it sparks joy in both his wife and children, it isn’t his most favorite thing in the world. He puts on a brave and pleasant face; indulging the kids’ excitement when it comes to sledding and skating and enjoying the sounds of their giggles and squeals when they’re in the backyard pelting each other with snowballs. And he can’t deny it DOES provide some of the quieter and more romantic moments between him and his wife. She loves the ‘ambiance’ it provides, enjoying those snowy nights in the hot tub and those quiet evenings spent cuddling on the couch after the kids have gone to bed; all the lights off in the living room safe for the glow from the fireplace and the curtains open to watch the snow as it comes down. But it’s the pain and the discomfort that comes with the dampness and the frigid temperatures; aggravating the arthritis that has taken up residence in the small of his back, both knees, and the deepest recesses of his right shoulder. While the pain is nowhere near as brutal as it used to be and the days of living in chronic agony are behind him, years of life lived dangerously on the edge and all of the injuries and wounds suffered on the job and during his military days ARE catching up to him.

Gaspar was right about ONE thing. Getting old DOES suck.

Snagging his phone off the nightstand, he silences the alarm and drops the phone onto the mattress. He’s feeling the effects from the treks in the Cambodian jungle and the jet lag; muscles and joints stiff and tight and his body filled with an exhaustion and weariness he hasn’t felt in years. It isn’t used to life anymore; the long hours spent on his feet without very little food or drink and next to no sleep. It’s gotten accustomed to a somewhat regular existence; the intellectual work that comes with being a boss as opposed to the physical exertion and the blood on his hands. And it’s grown to love the domestic side of things. More than happy being a work from home husband and father; devoting himself to being attentive and hands on and the five year track record of not birthdays or anniversaries. His kids never have to worry about him not showing up to one of their special events; sports practices and games for TJ and Declan, Millie’s Muay Thai matches and tournaments, Tanner and his science fair projects and occasional dabbles in his school’s talent shows and plays. He’s quite the entertainer; somehow comfortable and at home on a stage in front of hundreds of people, able to play the guitar quite well and possessing a damn good voice for someone his age. But ask him to do it at home and it’s another story; he shuts down and becomes incredibly nervous and shy and any and all pressuring causing him to shut down and force people out.

It’s been a journey to say the least; coming to a point of acceptance with his diagnosis and then discovering how to deal with it AND him. It’s a learning process. What may work one day could totally tank the next. And while it’s difficult to sit back and watch him struggle and even more to NOT to jump to his aid or render comfort and care, it’s better to let him come to you. Forcing an issue only makes things worse; he becomes increasingly sullen and irritable and -even as meek and mild as he usually is- prone to lashing out. It’s better if things are Tanner’s idea; allowing him to seek out help and affection instead of making him feel as if he’s being forced to do it. And it’s hard. Damn hard. Seeing your kid feel lost and alone even when in a room full of people. But he’s an incredible little human; smart and resilient and always finding his own ways to cope with situations and to soothe and comfort himself.

Sighing heavily, he runs his hands over his face and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. It’s been snowing on and off since he got home; steadily and heavily since shortly before midnight. TJ will have already set his own alarm; somehow enjoying being out in the frigid cold and finding satisfaction in manual labour. Despite his shortcomings -hair trigger temper and an obsessive need to control his mother’s movements and protect her at all costs- he’s a good kid. He loves deeply and profoundly; compassionate and empathetic and going above and beyond to always comfort and help his mother AND siblings. His bond with Tanner is enormous and exceeds all explanation; his twin brother his best friend and truest confidant despite their differences. And TJ goes out of his way to let Tanner know just how much he adores and admires him; learning as much as he can about Tanner’s Autism and letting his twin show him exactly how to handle certain situations if they arise. While still fearless and wild at times, he has his quiet and thoughtful moments; seeking out attention and affection from his parents and not shying away from cuddling up to his mother on the couch.

None of those kids ever have to be embarrassed because of their individual needs. Allowed to be exactly who they are; never pressured to change themselves and never burdened with ridiculous expectations or adult problems. Loved and accepted just the way they are. It’s everything that Tyler never got when he was young and what had died the moment Esme’s father had; parents that loved them and nurtured them instead of unleashing hell. Their situations remarkably different but equally as traumatizing and damaging.

Rolling over onto his side, he pushes the removes the comforter from over his wife’s head and face and moves it down to collarbone level. Despite an always youthful and fresh faced appearance -despite all her bitching about the opposite since having their sixth and seventh child and hitting her fortieth birthday- she looks years younger while she sleeps. No lines of worry or stress across her forehead or at the corners of her eyes, a smile playing on her lips; completely at peace and feeling warm, safe, and secure. It both feeds his ego and fills him with a sense of pride; knowing he’s the one -the only one, according to her- that has ever been able make her feel that way. Mark had been the opposite; inflicting as much pain and torment -physically and mentally- as he could. And he’s spent the last twelve and a half years attempting to right another man’s wrongs.

Gentle fingertips push wayward strands of hair away from the side of her face; palm resting against the side of her as he leans in to kiss her. Lips briefly lingering on her brow before journeying over her face; across the tops of her brows and on each eye, down the bridge of her nose and then onto her lips. He’s come to both enjoy and treasure these quiet moments; when the house is silent and still and nothing exists outside those four walls and beyond that closed door. It’s often the only time they do get alone; those minutes spent sharing long, lazy kisses and engaging in sleepy conversation. He’d come so close to losing at all; mere minutes away from never kissing her again or hearing her voice or her laugh. Over the course of the last five years he’s been determined to make every damn second count. And to ensure that she knows exactly how worshipped and adored she actually is.

****

Esme turns her face into his palm, pressing a kiss to the calloused skin. “What time is it?”

“Early. Very early.”

Stretching languorously, she wraps both arms around his neck and slides even closer; eyes never opening, forehead coming to rest against the end of his nose. “Why are you even up? All that travelling? The jet lag? How come you’re not sleeping in?”

“I got shit to do. It’s been snowing on and off since I got home yesterday. Came down pretty good last night. I need to get out there.”

“No.” She locks her hands together at the nape of her neck and drapes a leg over his. “You don’t. You need to stay right here. In bed. With me. Where it’s warm and it’s cozy. I need my human heating blanket.”

“You got like four blankets on your side of the bed. I think you’ll be fine.”

“You’re not going. I won’t let you. Stay. Just for a little while. Until the kids get up. You don’t have to leave with Tanner until at least nine. Why rush it?”

“Because if I don’t get out there and shovel it…”

“Text Jacobi. Get him to do it. Pay extra if you have to.”

Pushing his fingers through her hair, he places a kiss on her brow. “He’s your boyfriend. You text him.”

Esme frowns. “He’s seventeen years old!”

“Maybe you like them young now. Maybe you hit forty and became a cougar.”

“Nope. Not my style. I have you. And you’re close to fifty and still getting the job done, so…” she presses a series of kisses along his jaw and the underside of his chin. “...you get to stick around.”

“You know…” His fingers slip through her hair and onto her bare back; skimming along her spine and then over to a hip. Rendered speechless when her warm, moist lips reach the extremely sensitive spot under his ear; shuddering when the tip of her nose ever so gently glides along his jaw. “...you kinda hurt my feelings.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“You called me the F word.”

“Honey, as much as it hurts to hear it and as much as I take no delight in bruising your ego, you ARE closer to fifty than you are forty. Does it make you feel better that you’re the sexiest almost fifty year old EVER? That you’re still the hottest dad on the playground? Actually, the hottest GRANDPA on the playground.”

“Excuse you? Grandpa?”

“Ovi is one of ours. Maybe not by blood, but we’ve always loved him like he is. So yeah, grandpa. Twice over. Grandpa Tyler.”

“You’re mean, you know that? A savage. A real fucking savage.”

“I’m horrible. Just awful. The worst wife ever. I don’t know how you put up with it. Being treated just so terribly.”

“The sex is good. Really good, actually.”

She grins. “And you say I only married YOU for sex. I’m starting to think that was your hidden agenda all along. It wasn’t love. It was total unbridled, animalistic lust.”

“Oh there was definitely some of THAT. I’d say, I don’t know, fifty fifty?”

Esme frowns.

“Sixty forty?”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Okay, so maybe eighty percent love, twenty percent animalistic lust?”

“Was that when we first got together? Eighty, twenty?”

“First five, six years, I guess.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what’s it at now? Twelve years and seven kids later.”

“What are your numbers at?”

“I asked YOU first. You don’t have to spare my feelings. I can handle it. We’ve been together more than a decade. We have seven children. There’s no way the percentage of animalistic lust is that high now. No way.”

“It is. Trust me. It is.”

“How? I’m almost thirty pounds heavier than when we first met, I’ve got stretch marks, I’ve got gray hair, I’ve got…”

Curling his arm around the middle of her back, he pulls her even tighter against him; a heavy, muscular leg draping over hers and keeping her in place. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re biased.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make it any less true.” He places a line of kisses along her jaw, and the one on her ear. Hand sliding underneath her arm and coming to rest on her side; fingertips lightly -and repeatedly- brushing against the side of her breast. “I don’t see what you see.”

“You don’t see the gray hair? The stretch marks? The weight I’ve gained?”

“I mean, I SEE it. I just don’t give a shit about any of it. And I don’t know why you care about it all so much. You’re beautiful. Even more now than you were than. You were pretty fucking hot back then. You’re just hotter now.”

“How? I wear clothes four sizes bigger than I wore then. There’s more snow on my roof than there is outside. How do you not…?”

“Because I don’t. I don’t give a fuck about any of it. None of that matters to me, Esme. You’re all that matters. And you’re still as beautiful now as you were then. If not more. Because back then? You weren’t the mother of my kids yet. I hadn’t seen you with a baby in your belly. MY baby. And now I have. Seven of them. That makes you even more beautiful.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “You know husband, you really do have your moments. You’ve become quite the sweet talker. And cuddler.”

“What can I say? You changed me. For the better. I’m never going to admit to liking the cuddling though. I do it‘cause YOU like it. I humour you.”

“Sure you do. Are you forgetting ‘the reach’? You do it every time I come back to bed in the middle of the night. You’ve been doing it for years. You don’t even open your eyes; you just reach out and grab me and pull me into you. I refuse to believe you’re totally asleep when you do that.”

“Maybe I miss you when you’re gone. Maybe I AM getting needy now that I’m getting closer to...you know.”

“Fifty?”

“How fucking dare you you say that word in my presence.”

She laughs, then sighs into his mouth when it covers hers. The kiss is long and languid; his hands sliding along the length of her back and over the swells off her ass and over her hips. They’re wider now. Her body thicker and heavier yet still incredible; curves and dips in all the right places, his hands and his mouth never tiring of exploring them. It’s the aftermath of her birthing seven children; incredible, beautiful little human beings that they’d somehow managed to create together, sometimes during the darkest and most trying of times. Her skin is impossible soft and supple; fingers and calloused palms loving the familiarity of her.

“You know…” she sighs once more when his lips find the side of her neck; a hand tightly fisted in her hair. “...my percentage rate is quite high.”

He grazes his teeth along smooth skin; feeling her shudder against him as his tongue traces the outer edge of her ear. “How high?”

She giggles when his forearm slides down to the small of her back and he uses his much larger and stronger body to push her against the mattress. “Well, right now? You with no shirt on? And you ready and raring to go? The lust is part very, very high.”

He places a knee on either side of her body, then reaches down to unbutton the flannel shirt she sports. ““What are the numbers looking like?”

“I mean, I ALWAYS love you. That’s never up for debate. But…” she pauses as his hands push the garment open, shivering when his fingertips glide over her ribs. “...as for the lust part? I’m thinking it’s about ninety-five to five. Right at this moment.”

“Ninety-five, huh? Guess I’m doing something right.”

“I guess you are.” Her hands slide into his hair; nails digging into his scalp as his mouth begins a slow and almost agonizing descent down her body. It’s a mind numbing and body quivering juxtaposition; his lips and tongue soft and moist and the roughness of his beard and the calluses on his palms. It’s familiar; the feel of his mouth and hands, the scent that lingers on his skin and in his hair, the weight of his body. Yet even after almost twelve and a half years, she still can’t get enough of it. In her previous life...when she’d been young and jaded and carrying an enormous amount of her own emotional and personal baggage...she would have long ago grown tired of it. Of him. But it’s been more than a decade and everything is still so powerful; adoration and love and lust.

He’s grinning up at her as his hands fall on her knees and push her legs apart; his sparkling as he presses a series of kisses to the inside of one thigh, then the other. “What’s it at now? The percentage?”

“I'd say about ninety eight.”

“What do I gotta do to get that last two percent?”

Dragging her top teeth along her bottom lip, her fingers tightening in his hair when the tip of his tongue travels along her pubic bone. “Let's put it this way,” she says. “You’re definitely going in the right direction.”

*****

She lays in the middle of the bed watching him as he dresses; on her side with elbow propped on the mattress and the side of her head resting in her palm. The sight never gets old; the way the muscles bulge and tendons and ligaments ripple with the simple act of pulling on clothes. That long torso and powerful limbs and feet of beautiful tanned, smooth skin; ‘decorated’ by over a dozen tattoos and three times as many scars and ‘imperfections’. It’s the same view she’s had for over twelve years; still admiring it in the same way she had during those five days in Dhaka. When her mouth and hands had slowly and hungrily explored every inch of him Marvelling at the way those muscles moved under her fingertips; how that wide back, broad shoulders and biceps and triceps would feel when he was propped above her on outstretched arms. How that body would tremble and then lock up shortly before his release; eyes closing and his hair falling across his forehead. A brief moment of vulnerability; allowing her to see past the tattered edges and the rough facade and get a glimpse of what..and WHO..he really was.

And she remembers those talks afterwards; when fingertips would explore the various scars covering his face and body. How he’d given an almost self conscious smile and a hesitant: “You can ask about them.” It had been the start of things; open and honest conversation between two broken and jaded people that..for reasons unknown to them at the time...had found themselves completely at ease with each other and trusting one another in ways they hadn’t trusted another human in a hell of a long time. If ever.

More scars have been added since then. Most days they don’t bother her. They’re simply part of him; permanent reminders of everything that he’d been through both during his abusive childhood, his time in the military, and the years spent on the job. Yet there’s moments where the occasional ‘war wound’ captures her attention and stirs something up deep inside; old feelings of worry and fear and painful recollections of how close she’d come to losing them. The scar at the small of his back -just to right of the spine- has a tendency to stir up those emotions; what should have been the size of a normal bullet hole becoming much more gaping and jagged when Nathan had stuck his fingers into the wound to inflict as much damage and pain as possible. It isn’t the scar itself that bothers her, but the memories that it dredges up; the things that had been done to the person she loves more than life itself and the permanent issues that have been caused.

“I know it bothers you,” he says, as he pulls a pair of sweats over the ones he already sports.

“The fact you’ll wear two layers of jogging pants but won’t wear long johns? You’re right. It DOES bother me. You have those perfectly good Under Armour things I bought you. That will keep you warm when you’re out there. I bought you three pairs. Three years ago. They’re still in your dresser and two of them still have the tags on them.”

“I don’t like them. They’re too tight.”

“You wear a wetsuit when you go surfing sometimes but THOSE are too tight? That makes no sense. They’re looser than a wetsuit.”

“A wetsuit is totally different. Those things? They feel weird.”

She stares at him pointedly. “You’ve never even worn them.”

“Once. I tried on the one pair. That’s why the tag is off. I mean, I appreciate your effort, but…”

“You are so difficult. You complain about the cold, yet you won’t wear those or thermals. You barely wear a hat or gloves. You absolutely refuse a scarf. And you wonder why you’re freezing half the time? I’m trying to keep you alive, here. Or least prevent you from getting frostbite or hypothermia.”

“I’m fine. I bundle up. In my own way. I wear a hoodie; keep my ears warm.”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it. Goddamnit, you’re stubborn. I thought it would get better as you got older. Nope, it’s only getting worse. Where’s your glasses? Do you have any idea where they are?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Somewhere.”

“You didn’t even take them with you. I had to bring them from Australia. And let’s not get started on how you can’t hear shit out of your right ear and won’t do anything about it.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I can’t hear what you’re saying right now. Can you speak up? I can’t make out what you’re saying.”

Scowling, she snags one of the pillows from the top of the bed and tosses it in his direction. “And you wonder why I have gray hair. You ARE sexy though. If it’s wrong that I could lie here all day and watch you dress and undress, I don’t want to be right.”

“And you call me biased?”

“Sexiest husband ever. A total DILF. Or is it GILF? Instead of dad I’d like to fuck, grandpa I’d like to fuck.”

“I swear to God, if you call me that one more time…”

“What are you going to do about it? You wanna fight? Let’s fight. I can take you.”

Grinning, he tugs both a long and short sleeve shirt over his head. “You probably could. It’s the little ones you have to watch out for; sketchy motherfuckers.”

“Want to have a duel? Let’s have a duel. I’ll steal two of TJ’s Nerf guns.”

“You didn’t learn your lesson the last time?”

“That was NOT a duel. That was you lying in wait like a damn sniper. I didn’t even see you. And you shot me in the ass! It left a mark!”

“The day before you nailed me in the nuts with a lacrosse ball.”

“I didn’t mean to. I used to be really good at lacrosse. I just have bad aim now. I guess I’m still pretty powerful though; it brought you to your knees.”

“You’ve brought me to my knees many times. Just usually not in a painful way. You’re lucky we have all the kids we’re going to have. That hurt. And raised my voice a couple octaves for a few hours.”

“I kissed it better later. Among other things. And I don’t get why you get so bent out of shape over being called ‘grandpa’. You ARE a grandpa. Deal with it.”

“You need to shut the fuck up now.”

“Well you are,” she huffs. “I hate to break it to you, but you ARE old enough to be a grandpa. Even if we take Ovi out of the equation, it is highly possible that if Austin was still alive, he would have made you a grandfather by now. He’d be twenty two. That’s more than old enough to have kids of his own.”

“And I still wouldn’t like being called a grandpa, so…”

“Face it, you’re middle aged.”

“Esme, no one lives to be ninety four.”

“A LOT of people do. You’ll probably live to be a hundred and four. You’ll probably outlive me.”

“That is NOT a conversation we’re going to have.”

“Well I don’t care what you say, husband. You ARE the sexiest grandpa on earth. Two pairs of jogging pants and all.”

Smirking, he snags her long discarded shirt off the floor and tosses it towards her. “Put some clothes on. You’re distracting me.”

“Now suddenly you DON’T want to see me naked? And you wonder why I have confidence issues.”

“Trust me, if it was just us, I wouldn’t care if you walked around naked all day. Easy access. But I’ve got shit to do. And you’re not making it easy for me to get going. I’ve got to shovel, I’ve got to get Tanner up and light a fire under his ass. We’ve got six other kids that could come running in here any minute. So please, cover the girls up.”

“Since when do ‘the girls’ get your motor going?” She teases, as she sits up and shrugs into the shirt. “You’ve always been an ass man.”

“I’m a ‘whatever naked part of you’ man. You should know THAT by now.”

“You ARE very easy to please. By the way, have I ever told you how much I actually enjoy the Aussie kiss?”

Grinning, he approaches the bed. “Not in so many words. But I can tell how much you like it. My fucking head hurts; you pulling my hair so hard.” He leans down to kiss her; having to place both palms on the mattress to prevent himself from falling on top of her when she aggressively yanks him down. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing. It’s what I want in me.”

“You are very distracting. In a very evil, but sexy way.”

“I told you to text Jacobi. Had you listened to me, we’d be naked still. But nooo. You just had to go and ruin all the fun.”

“You’ve gotten a little...I don’t know...extra...when it comes to sex.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Hell no. I’m just saying. You’re a little more...needy.”

“I read this magazine article that interviewed women at very stages of their sexual lives. Women in their forties tended to have more frequent and extremely explicit sexual fantasies. They also said that once forty hit, they began having the best sex they ever experienced.”

“So what you’re saying is it sucked before you hit forty?”

“Hardly. It’s never sucked. Not even drunk sex with you sucks. Sloppy and over too quick? Yes. But sucky? No. What I’m saying is that I’m forty one and I’m in my prime when it comes to sex and needing my sexual needs fulfilled.”

“And what was all the sex leading up to when you turned forty?”

Esme grins. “Practice.”

“Practice, huh? Practice that made seven kids?"

“Well, they’re just bonuses. But yeah. Forty one, now. Sexual prime. You know what that means…”

“Means you might need a younger guy,” Tyler teases.

“Hardly. I have you. I don’t need or want anyone else. Young or old. You’re perfect. I’ll keep you.”

“Good. ‘Cause I kind of like it here.” He kisses her once more, then smoothes her hair away from the sides of her face. “And I wasn’t talking about my two pairs of sweatpants. When I said ‘it bothers you’.”

“I know. I know what you were talking about.”

“Bothers you all the time or…?”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not the scar itself. That isn’t what gets to me. It’s the things I think about sometimes; when I see it. And it’s not always. Ninety percent of the time, when I see it, I don’t think about it all. The other ten percent? Yeah, I look at it and it makes me think not so nice things.”

“Because I was away? Doing a job? Made you think of it?”

“Maybe. Just sometimes it creeps up. Sometimes I look at it and think about what happened. I think about HIM. And I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about him.”

“I don't want you to either. You want to talk about it, though? If it’s bugging you…”

“No. It was just a passing thing. I’m fine now. It just hit me and then it was gone. I’m good.”

He stares down at her.

“I am good,” Esme assures him, and places a hand on the side of his face and kisses him. “I really should put some pants on though.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“Unless you change your mind about texting Jacobi and you want to stay here with me instead? It’ll be at least half an hour before any of the kids get up. We can do A LOT in half an hour.”

“As much as I want to and as tempting as that is…”

A knock comes to the bedroom door, and Esme frowns in its direction. “Go away. We’re not here.”

“Mum, is dad awake?” TJ’s voice from the hallway. “I want to go out and shovel. But you won’t let me go out alone. I don’t see why I can’t.”

“Because you’re ten, maybe? And a ten year old doesn’t need to be out on the street alone?”

“I’m not scared. I can take care of myself. And I’ve got a shovel. If anyone tries anything with me, I’ll just…”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” she implores. “Don’t take after your dad when it comes to hurting people with garden tools.”

“Well technically it’s NOT a garden tool,” Tj says. “It’s used for snow, so…”

Tyler grins down at her. “He’s got a point.”

“Dad will be down in a minute,” she says. “Do NOT go out there by yourself. Hear me?”

“I hear ya. By the way, Kota is up and he wants breakfast. Hang on…” Whispering ensues; TJ’s quickly deepening voice mixed with his little brother’s much tinier and high pitched one. “...he says he wants pancakes.”

“Well take him downstairs and get him some chocolate milk and I’ll be down. Okay?”

“Okay,” TJ agrees.

She waits until their footsteps become lighter and quieter and begin their descent of the stairs, then gives a dramatic pout. “So much for sexy time.”

“Later,” Tyler promises, pressing a kiss to lips and then her forehead.

“Bring me something back? From when you go out with Tanner?”

“I think we can make a stop. Hit up your favorite bakery. What do you feel like?”

Snagging him by the front of the shirt, she pulls him down into one last kiss. “Surprise me.”

*****

After shovelling they sit on the covered back porch; a hot chocolate for TJ and a piping out coffee for him, the propane heater -designed in the style of an old fashioned campfire- turned on high to keep them warm. As he sips the strong and much needed brew, he watches his oldest son out of the corner of his eyes; the ends of his sun bleached blond hair sticking out the bottom of the knit beanie he sports, his hands impossibly large for someone only ten years of age. He seems so much older all of a sudden; broad shouldered and wide chested, his legs and torso long and thin.

During his quiet and thoughtful moments, TJ seems so mature; those brilliant blue eyes holding a wise that goes beyond his years. While he hasn’t toned down his fearless and often wild personality, he does have times when he’s soft spoken and introspective. Sullen, even. A darkness to his face that isn’t normally present; replacing that broad smile and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the glow to his face. Tyler sees a lot of himself at ten years old; his down moods and quiet spells brought on by his tumultuous and abusive home life. TJ is happy and go lucky; loving life and everyone in it and making friends wherever he goes. But there’s times he does settle; where his mind goes to things OTHER than sports and surfing and what kind of trouble he can get himself into. Very much a budding young man; stuck in that unsure and awkward time between childhood and teenage-dom.

“So what was that all about yesterday?” Tyler asks, and sips his coffee. “You and that Jacobi kid?”

“I just don’t like him. He annoys me.”

“Any particular reason why? There must be something about him that annoys you.”

TJ shrugs. “He’s just...I don’t know...he pisses me off. Big time.”

“What’s he done? To piss you off? Say something about your brother? Maybe your sister? I know you claim to hate Millie, but I also know that you’re pretty protective of her; you’d have her back no matter what.”

“It’s not about her. Or Tanner. And he’s lucky he HASN’T said anything about either of them. Because I would beat his ass.”

“So what’s going on? Why’d he piss you off? He must have done something.”

“He called mum pretty. His exact words were ‘your pretty little mum’. And he wasn’t saying it in a good way, dad. He wasn’t saying it in a WEIRD way.”

“A lot of guys have a crush on her. Can’t say I blame them; she’s awful pretty.”

“That’s not the point! I don’t care that he thinks she’s pretty. That doesn’t bother me. It was the way he said it. It was creepy.”

“He’s just got a bit of a crush on her. He’s harmless.”

“I don’t like him coming around here. Asking about her. And he’s not just asking about her because he shovels the snow. He’s asking about her because he likes her. And for some reason, he thinks she likes him. As if that would ever happen! She’s old enough to be his mum. That’s just messed up!”

“He’s just got a thing for her. It’s no big deal. Your mum’s a big girl. She knows how to handle herself. If it was bothering her, she’d tell him off. Have you ever known her NOT to tell someone off if they’re getting on her nerves?”

TJ shakes his head.

“I know I told you to keep an eye on things and protect her while I’m gone, but I think you’re going a little overboard. She’s not some meek and mild little thing. She’s not weak. She is more than capable of handling herself. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. She’s tough. Don’t underestimate her.”

“But you DID ask me to keep an eye on her. And that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“But you’re going a little too hardcore with it. You can’t control her, mate. You can’t stop her from talking to people or making friends. That’s who your mum is; she makes friends easily. Where do you think you get it from? Just take it down a notch, okay? You’re just stressing her out and putting more on her plate when you get like that. Just take it easy. She’ll let you know if she needs you.”

“I don’t care who she’s friends with. Or who she talks to. But he’s just plain weird. It’s creepy; someone not much older than me having a crush on my mom. I swear he’s going to ask her out on a date.”

“I highly doubt that’s going to happen. She’s married. She has seven kids. I don’t think he’s at the point of asking her out.”

“If he does, I hope she tells him off. I hope she tells him to get lost. Because he’s super weird and he creeps me out and I don’t want him around my mum. Maybe you can tell him off. Tell him to stay away from your wife.”

“IF he gets out of hand, I will. For now we’ll just hang back. See what he does. To be honest, I don’t think he’ll do anything. He’s probably too scared to.”

“Because he knows you’ll break him in half. He knows you can rip his head off and shove it up his ass. If you DO do that, can I watch?”

“You’ll be the first person I call, I promise.”

“Good,” TJ says, and then sips at his hot chocolate. “Dad…” his face turns serious once again, eyes darkening. “...can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, mate. What’s up?”

“Why did you go away? For work? I thought you were supposed to just be a boss now.”

“I am. Just a boss. Anil asked me to do him a favour. I couldn’t say no.”

“Why? Why couldn’t you say no? You have all kinds of people you could have given him. Who could have done the job. Why did it have to be you?”

“Because there was no room for screw ups. He knew I’d get it done right. There was no one else he trusted.”

“Well do you have to go away again? This is twice this year. That you’ve gone away. After you told us you wouldn’t go away ever again.”

“I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure. Hopefully a long while.”

“You shouldn’t be going anywhere. You promised you wouldn’t. After what happened when I was five, you told us that you wouldn’t go away. That you were done with that part of your life. That you were just going to stay home and run the business and be around for us and mum.”

“I know. I know what I said. I know…”

“Why do you always break that promise? Every time you promise us or mum or you won’t go, you do. And that’s not fair. To keep breaking your promises. It’s especially not fair to mum.”

“You’re right. It’s not. And I don’t want to go away but…”

“You’re the boss. You have tons of people working for you. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to go. Isn’t almost dying TWICE enough? Why does there have to be a third time?”

“TJ, I…”

“Mum doesn’t do well when you’re gone. She has a really hard time. She misses you. A lot. And she worries about you. That she’s never going to see you again. She cries. A LOT. And she doesn’t sleep and she doesn’t eat. Why do you want to do that to her? Make her go through that?”

“I don’t want her going through that. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt your mum.”

“But you ARE,” TJ insists. “You ARE hurting her. And that’s not fair to mummy. She shouldn’t have to go through that. Can’t you just stay home? With us? With her?”

“I’ve only gone away a few times. In FIVE years. What more do you want from me?”

“You should be home ALL the time. Like you promised you would be. If something bad happened to you, mum wouldn’t survive. And none of us would either. Just stay home, dad. Please. If not for us, for mummy. Can’t you love her enough to just stay home for her?”

“It's not that I…”

“Hey…” Esme slides open the sliding door and pokes her head outside. “...sorry to interrupt, but Tanner says you guys should get going soon. Especially if you want to get a table at your normal place. I told him you’d have to shower first. And you know how anxious he gets if his plans aren’t going the way he thinks they should.”

“I’ll be right in,” Tyler smiles at her over his shoulder. “Tell him I won’t be long.”

“And TJ, breakfast will be ready soon. I’ll make you some french toast. Sound good?”

“Sounds good, mummy. Thank you. I’ll be in in a second. I promise.”

“And don’t forget to shower. No stinky boys allowed at the kitchen table.” She gives a final smile, then ushers a snow covered Saju and Mac into the house and closes the door behind them.

“Mummy loves you,” TJ says. “She loves you so much. And she wouldn’t be the same if anything happened to you. Can’t you stay home. For her? Don’t you love her enough to do that? To give up at that part of things for good?”

“I love your mom more than you could possibly understand. More than you ever WILL understand.”

“Then stay home, dad. Please. If not for us kids, for mum. Because she deserves that. You being home. I don’t like seeing her sad. And I really don’t like seeing her cry. Can you do that? For her? Stay?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Sighing heavily, TJ downs the remains of his hot chocolate and then jumps up and heads for the door. Pausing to look over his shoulder as his hand closes around the handle. “That’s not good enough.”

[samesanegirl]

The Weasley-Potter Clan

Teddy Lupin: 

The most loved and admired member of the Weasley-Potter clan

Has a special bond with every single one of his cousins

Whenever there is a Quidditch match in the clan, everyone fights for Teddy to be in their team

Pansexual king

Is totally into rock and punk music

Loves Victoire more than life itself

Social butterfly due to his charm and caring nature

Listens to The Weird Sisters non stop

He constantly changes his hair colour. However, he always keeps a pink and brown streak for his parents

Uses his Metamorphous powers to cheer others up

Hufflepuff beater - has taken the pleasure of training the Weasley-Potter children in Quidditch

Underneath his gleeful attitude, he often mourns over his parents and never forgets them

Victoire Weasley: 

Adores children, which explains why Hugo and Lily Luna love her

Other than Teddy, she would be best friends with Molly II due to their close age.

Charming, witty and drop-dead gorgeous

Has a very elegant presence and she is very feminine

Unashamedly girly and does not believe femininity makes her ‘weak’

Others assumed she was dumb, despite that she was sorted into Ravenclaw. This pushed Victoire to work harder

Ended up being Head Girl, graduating at the top of her class and becoming a Healer.

Unlike her cousins, Victoire didn’t play Quidditch 

Instead, she loves swimming as she grew up on Shell Cottage

Head-over-heels in love with Teddy Lupin.

Willingly helps others and loves giving advice

Critical about certain things and has opinionated & blunt nature

James Sirius Potter: 

Makes boring situations fun, no matter what

Chanels the spirit of the marauders

Quidditch fanatic

His free-spirited personality is contrasted against his competitive and serious attitude when playing Quidditch

Gryffindor Keeper

Whenever he wins a match, he throws the loudest parties ever seen in Hogwarts

Is the literal embodiment of Gryffindor

Has the craziest stories to tell

Loves to think himself as the ladies’ man. Unfortunately, Louis snatched that title once he hit puberty

Often takes the blame when everything goes wrong

When a girl captures his heart, he is romantic and cheesy as fuck

Fred Weasley: 

He grew up witnessing his father cope with grief. Thus, he has learned to not take anyone for granted

His obsession with Quidditch is on the same level with James

He and James can’t live without each other

Soul-brothers with James

Gryffindor Chaser alongside Dominique and Rose. They are unbeatable when united together

Very sweet and protective around her female cousins

Inherits Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes

Keeps a cool head whenever he, James and Dominique get into trouble

Gets drunk extremely easily

Girls fawn over his charming personality and looks

Willingly accepts any challenge, no matter how wild and crazy it is, he finds a way to complete it

Dominique Weasley: 

While Victoire is graceful and lady-like, Dominique is loud and rebellious

Considerably smart but never tries in Hogwarts

Complete wisecrack and smartass

Prank trio with James Sirius and Fred II

Dyes her hair different colours three times a year

Gryffindor Chaser

Uses her Veela powers to get what she wants

Flirty, confident and hilarious

Will get into a literal fist fight if you insult her loved ones

Loves road trips, parties, festivals and Quidditch

Suggests the wildest challenges and games to her cousins

A social butterfly and life of the party

Roxanne Weasley: 

Extremely loyal to those who win her approval

Fanatic of The Weird Sisters - something that her and Teddy obsess over

Has no mercy on the Quidditch pitch

Underneath her toughness, she is sensitive and sweet

Ferocious Gryffindor Beater

Badass as fuck and she knows it

Believes in female empowerment and is very accepting towards others

Has no time for bullshit or small talk

Lesbian and proud of it

Aspires to become a rock musician in the Wizarding World

Always has your back, no matter what

Does not give a shit about what you think or say about her

But if you insult her cousins, she will make your life a misery

Hugo Weasley: 

On the autism spectrum, but is fucking intelligent

Surprisingly, Hugo is smarter than his sister

Has a crush on Lysander Scamander

Equally obsessed with the Chudley Cannons like his father

The best chess player in the family

Always hangs out with Lily Luna and Roxanne

Ravenclaw Keeper, but switches to Beater position when playing Quidditch with his cousins

Fascinated by Magical Creatures and studies them

Is socially awkward and can be insensitive and blunt when he is stressed

Has a kind heart and a strong moral compass

Is passionate about activism and calling out injustices

Can be bossy and is fearful of breaking the rules

Has random knowledge about the most obscure things

Believes that house elves deserve their freedom and are not slaves

Louis Weasley: 

Once he hit puberty, the girls could not leave him alone

Fluent in French and English

Sweet temperament and an absolute gentleman

Interested in French and British culture

Obsessed with film and the Muggle World

Loves to travel to other countries and visit famous landmarks

Hufflepuff beater

Can be a little naive at times but is emotionally mature

Calm demeanour but lives for adventure 

People pleaser and can sometimes be a push-over

Genuinely wants the best for you

People come to him for comfort or support and to flirt in the process 

Molly Weasley: 

Loveable, warm, kind-hearted

Loves physical affection and always hugs her cousins for no reason

Makes the people she loves feel special and likes doing surprise parties or sleepovers

Loves to cook and bake different things

Obsessed with English Literature

Headgirl in her last year at Hogwarts

Whilst she is intelligent and hard-worker, she was nowhere near as competitive or ambitious as Percy

Does not play for the Gryffindor Quidditch team either, although she likes to watch it

Hopeless romantic and ships absolutely everything

Everyone is naturally drawn to her optimism

Lucy Weasley: 

Gets teased for being a nerd and for liking Muggle things, but she proudly admits it

Has a small blue streak on her hair

Does not play for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. However, she plays as Chaser in the Weasley Annual Quidditch matches

Not academically competitive like Percy but manages to ace her exams anyway

Introverted and painfully awkward, but is loud around her best friends

People make assumptions around her asexuality and she hates it

Lucy has a close friendship with all her female cousins, whether they like the same things or not

Obsessed with comic books and Marvel films

Sarcastic humour and amazing comebacks

Fascinated with Muggle pop culture

Lily Luna Potter: 

The youngest in the family

Is in love with love and is an intense shipper of the relationships that her cousins are in

Mostly calm under stressful circumstances

Inherited her father’s sass and her mother’s humour

Daydreams 24/7

Super talkative - could start a conversation in an empty room

Has a very kind and lively nature

Intuitive, trusting and sensitive

Social butterfly and gets along with everyone she meets

Gryffindor Seeker - just as good as Albus Potter

Stands up for what is right and never hesitates to defend others

Dreams to be a journalist

Whenever Rita Skeeter makes rumours about her cousins, she jumps to their defence and roasts her

Rose Weasley: 

Perfectionist and very demanding of herself

Nothing can ever stop her from accomplishing her goals

Feels the pressures of being the daughter of two war heroes and tries to succeed in everything to please them and herself

Gryffindor Chaser

Her love for Quidditch matches James and Fred’s

Loyal to the Chudley Cannons, no matter how many times they lose

Vivacious and funny around her friends but is dead-serious when confronted with challenges

Competitive as fuck, whether it is Quidditch, academics or on a bet

Loving, caring and overprotective

Outspoken about her views and hates injustices

If you hurt her loved ones, she will Sectusembra your ass

Fiery temper and not to be messed with

Breaks the rules at school and manages to fool Hogwarts professors with her flawless grades 

Bonds with Scorpius over their shared neediness and love of books

Albus Severus Potter: 

Talented at Potions, which is his best subject as well

Very intelligent but is silent about it

Hates being centre of attention

Slytherin Seeker - and a supremely talented one

Hates his middle name after having a deep conversation with Professor Longbottom

Is confused why his dad didn't name him after Hagrid

Sarcastic as fuck

Would take the Killing Curse for Rose and Scorpius

Secretly listens to emo music

Is a pro at escaping trouble and is great at creating loopholes by thinking on the spot

Slightly awkward upon first introductions but he is very kind and caring

Avoids the Wizarding press as much as possible

Scorpius Malfoy: 

Strong moral compass and hates injustices

Generally reserved and quiet around those he does not know very well

Once you win his loyalty, he will move the earth just for you

Is a great judge of character and is an expert on body language

An absolute gentleman

Whenever his friends are stuck in trouble, he is a master at acting innocent and naive in order to help them

Quietly determined and ambitious

His kind nature is often mistaken for weakness

But Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy is the strongest person ever

He knows how to defend himself and does not tolerate bullshit

When Molly gave him a Weasley sweater for Christmas, he was in tears

Fascinated with the Muggle world and loves spending it there with Al and Rose

Incredibly intelligent and nerdy

Slytherin keeper

Is in love with Muggle literature, museums, architecture and art

[savrenim]

Hey mx savrenim its me again and I'm wondering: how you maintain tension in a story with characters with future vision? Especially in a story with no guaranteed future, where seers can ensure the best possible future for themselves

oooooh v v good question, once more under the cut

so there are a lot lot LOT of ways to do this that all depend on the tone that you want your story to go for, and Imma reference a few pieces of media that do this in various ways, but this is pretty much a subset of the question “how do you maintain tension in your story when your character is very overpowered”

1. Just very realistically explore that “in theory able to do things perfectly” and “in practice able to do things perfectly” are very very different things.  Another Faust by Daniel Nayeri had pretty much someone with Seer-like capabilities (namely, the ability to loop back I thiiiink as far as they wanted in time?) that they could use to make sure they always said the right thing, got the right answers on tests, etc etc, and it just.... didn’t work out for them perfectly. Because perfect knowledge didn’t fix everything. If you know how every single play is going to work idk in a baseball game, that gives you an edge, but it doesn’t actually mean you win the game unless you are good enough at baseball to hit that ball and run those bases

In that case, the more effective the Seer wants to be, the more they have to actually train the skills that they care about, so that they can carry out the actions physically that lead to their ideal future. And building physical skills is hard and takes work and practice, and anything you have to work to get better at to reach a goal is the starting point of tension. 

Also to continue the sports metaphor, having perfect knowledge of a baseball game and even being the best player in the world doesn’t guarantee you a win because you cannot play every single position, there are other people on the team who are going to be doing actions that at most can have secondhand versions of your knowledge. Trying to manage the human aspect leads to human error. So maybe there is tension because the Seer aggressively self-isolates so that Other People Will Not Fail Them and tension comes from interacting with other people they have extreme trust issues. Maybe the tension comes from them playing puppetmaster and trying to figure out which people they are willing to sacrifice for their goals, which people will fail them and which people they can and should hold onto, and from nobody really trusting them because everyone is well aware that the puppetmaster is willing to make sacrifices.

And finally -- just knowing the future doesn’t mean you can fix it. I don’t know about you, but even if I had perfect foreknowledge of the future, I would not be truly happy just personally thriving as idk rich and a famous mathematician and physicist and married to my fiance and maybe the books that I want to be published published and enough money to give to all my friends too and maybe can we have warp drives I want to go to space and inventing some solid if not immortality-tech then life-extension tech would be cool -- which, like, is everything I could personally wish for from life and more -- but in the world that we have? like, climate change SUCKS. fascism SUCKS. racism SUCKS. sexism and homophobia and poverty and class wars disguised as generational wars and all of the existing structures that reinforce all of these things SUCK. and even personally having perfect foreknowledge of the future enough to either start with or build up a bunch of political power and money, to try to change any of that would mean going against incredibly entrenched institutions that I honestly have no idea how effective one person could be at changing. Like if B*zos suddenly decided “wait let’s save the world and make a socialist utopia” do you actually think he would succeed? or even get very far? even applying every single resource he commands? or would he just.... lose a lot of his money and power trying to do that and then someone else becomes the richest person in the world who does want to maintain the system. because a lot of that power are things that do not exist, like stocks, it’s imaginary money that the moment you stop playing the game you get kicked out of the game and maybe you can make tiny changes but the game itself doesn’t stop

so baaaasically consider making your Seer a radical anarchist or at least someone who cares about tackling large-scale problems that one individual will never be able to solve, to play the “well if a very powerful individual had a single-minded focus on trying to fight these things could we at least get further than every single powerful person wanting to screw us over or just not caring?” game -- that creates tension because global problems can only be solved by global and communal actions, and one individual, no matter how perfectly they can see the future, cannot do that on their own

2. “Psychic powers don’t make you popular.” This is my obligatory “I just rewatched Mob Psycho 100 and am obsessed with it seriously consider watching it if you haven’t.” I know I keep bringing up MP100 but hear me out my favorite media is where the main character is stupidly overpowered so I don’t have to be stressed at all consuming it and MP100 maybe is the most touching but also well thought out and interestingly plotted version of that I’ve ever seen  But the basic premise of Mob Psycho 100 is that the main character, Mob, is a middle schooler with the most powerful psychic abilities in the world. The tension comes from: (1) Mob is not in total control over his powers and feels really really bad when he loses control and for example uses his powers against another person even in self-defense because that’s a Rule he made for himself that he really doesn’t want to cross ever. Which with a Seer, maybe you have a Seer that Cares Deeply About Other People’s Privacy, or who Cares Deeply About Having Real Relationships That They Do Not Manipulate, or who Cares Deeply About Their Achievements Being Their Own and so they don’t use their powers in everyday life out of moral considerations, except sometimes gods in stressful situations you just want everything to be okay so the tension of “do I fix this right now or is this crossing a line” drives your story. (2) because Mob isn’t using his powers in everyday life, while he is having these giant badass psychic battles with ghosts and evil psychics as a part-time job after school and yeah yeah you know he’s going to win, the tension and growth in the story comes from the gains that he is making in his personal life of, like, “oh he made a friend!!!!! oh he stood up for himself even though that’s really hard for him and he set a boundary!!!! oh he’s working really really hard towards his goal of being better at running!!!!! oh look he’s grown so much at episode 1 he didn’t talk to anyone his own age or have anything to do and now he’s doing things for himself!!!” Having your Seer take the ethics of not using seeing into the future to manipulate the people around them really really seriously, working very hard at tiny life things and then being a complete fucking badass that is putting down world-threatening threats as hobby that they kind of don’t view as that important in defining them as a person or defining their accomplishments or how they feel about themselves means that it doesn’t matter how overpowered they are in terms of their abilities, your audience will care and be invested in the tiny life accomplishments that they are working so hard to do on their own, and will be proud of their personal growth.

3. Blind Spots. Exactly what it sounds like, can your Seer really see everything? Perfectly? And if they do see everything do they know the exact effect that acting differently will cause? Or are they limited visions -- they only come at certain times, they only are about very specific things, the Seer cannot control when they happen, etc. The more specific and limited your visions are, the harder they have to actually work to figure out how to interpret them and best play the cards that they have, so maybe finding that perfect happy life isn’t actually all that easy. 

Alternatively, your Seer can only see the natural future, what would happen if they do not change their actions. If they change their actions, they can’t re-glimpse the new version, so it’s up to their best guess as to whether or not their plans to make things better will actually make things better. You can create a shit-ton of tension there if only because Plans Never Go Perfectly. Honestly at this point you’re just writing a slightly different version of those “MC is a Super Genius” books that instead of them making good plans because they are a Super Genius, it is good plans because they can see the future, I stand by childhood me that the first three Artemis Fowl books are great and honestly I’m pretty sure the plot wouldn’t really change too much if you added “Artemis can see what future would happen if he didn’t take any actions to interfere” and it would just be another interesting trait that was a part of his planning process.

And even if your Seer can see re-glimpse the new version, they are human. They have only a finite amount of time, and a finite amount of brain space. You don’t need to make the rules of Seer powers be that “they can see all of spacetime and all possibilities of the past and future perfectly all the time.” They can miss things by not thinking something is important and looking in a different direction. You can build up tension around they can only look into the future, not the past, they missed something, and now they don’t know what they missed and what to target to fix it. Or play the finite amount of time bit very hard: if they see the effects of deciding one particular course of action, it takes [x] time for the vision to complete, then they need to try to see the effects of one other particular course of action, and they can only effectively run a handful of simulations -- or even hundreds or thousands, but the answer is still a finite number of dear gods is nature chaotic / the butterfly effect is built into every single physics equation that there is that describes the world -- so tension comes from even if they can check that a plan is good, they still have to come up with a plan to change the future, and can only come up with so many plans in the time that they have. 

4. Existential Crisis. You made Seer powers “they can see all of spacetime and all possibilities of the past and future perfectly all the time.” idk I would find life terribly boring and have an existential crisis over that probably? of am I even human? does anything I do matter? does anyone else exist, really, since I can see and control every aspect of their lives? am I a god? how do I relate to anyone? how do I care about anything? 

In this setup, your main character would not be the Seer, it would be a person or group of people who are either trying to Save The World or Accomplish Something Important or even Accomplish Something Selfish who spend the story trying to befriend the Seer and get their help goddamnit because the moment the Seer is on their side, they win. and then the tension comes from the Seer keeps refusing but is ~slowly opening their heart~, jaded older mentor figure adopts tiny adorable hopeful child is the found family JAM and then your main character finally decides they aren’t getting the help and goes off and does the incredibly dangerous thing alone and the Seer realizes too late that oh nooo my tiny son is in danger and at just the last moment decides fuck it and leaps back into the game to try to help and save them and oh both the glorious drama and all the best tropes all of them seriously if you write this book ping me I’ll read it I’m a sucker for jaded old loner adopts Naive Hopeful Hero Who Is Going To Save The World Even If It Kills Them and jaded old loner just spends the entire time going “oh no. oh no tiny child. oh gods I’m coming out of retirement aren’t I. tiny child please. please have you considered just being chill so that I don’t have to come out of retirement” and then just. the SATISFACTION. when they come in at just the right moment and the tension leading up to it when you didn’t know if they were going to or not. it’s poetry.

This can also pretty easily be done without the Seer having godlike powers, just pretty strong powers-- have them have made their life perfect, found it empty, and fallen into a depressive fugue then use the above plot for the same effect. 

5. Make Them Your Villain. The final way of dealing with making tension and having an overpowered character is, uh..... it’s only no tension when your protagonist doesn’t need to struggle to reach their goals. if the antagonist is walking down easy street that only makes things all the more stressful because how do you beat that? and that is all of the tension in your book: figuring it out.

a subgenre of this is Seer v Seer: the best possible future for one Seer is not necessarily the best possible future for another Seer, so if you have multiple Seers, Seers clashing against other Seers that have the same powers which means their powers aren’t necessarily an advantage is a shit-ton of tension. That is.... pretty much the plot of trash novel? So I’d rather not go into detail about how I personally am doing it, but anytime people who have the same abilities fight, they’re on equal ground, you don’t know who is going to win, so boom, tension.

6. Seers are illegal/ kidnapped by the government the moment they are discovered to work for the government only/ targeted for kidnapping by all sorts of powerful groups, so your Seers need to aggressively hide their powers and the more they use them to make their life perfect, the more in danger they are; even if they can use their abilities to avoid ever being captured, they will be on the run their entire lives if they get found out.

[gffa]

Hii I'm new to the Fandom and I'm obsessed with your blog! I ADORE your point of view really its making me love star wars more and more, my question is do you have any recommendations on which books to read to understand more about the lore and where cannon is right now??

Hi!  I’m glad if I can help you like SW lore more and thank you for such kind words, I deeply appreciate them.  And, oh, what a tricky question that is, without meaning to be!A lot depends on which part of the SW lore you’re looking for–are you looking for technical terms or character backstory tidbits?  Lore on Force woo?  The stories that help better inform the structure of Star Wars?  Because I feel like my answers would be different for each of those!So, I’m going to do a “here’s what I think is the best places to start when getting into SW supplementary material” list:1.  THE TV SERIESIf you haven’t watched The Clone Wars and Rebels yet, those should be first on your list!  TCW is there to help give you the bigger picture of just how awful the Clone Wars were, how politics dragged everything down into the mud, and will give you a ton of feelings on established characters.  I’m currently in the middle of a rewatch and its kicking up all these feelings I had and you can really tell that this is what George Lucas’ world looks like when they have the time to explore it.  (Though, hell, even with this show, it only covers things in broad strokes, especially because it is still aimed at younger audiences, too.)And Rebels is just a really great series by itself, but it also does a fantastic job of showing you just how complicated the war against the Empire was, how hard it was to wind together these various minor factions into one bigger Rebellion, as well as it does a lot to show what it’s like for Jedi after the genocide of their people.  It also has some killer cameos and resolution to things started in TCW and moments of confrontation for all the characters.Both of those really only have minor moments of exploring the Force Woo Lore (but there’s really not one singular place that explains it, imo, it’s something you have to piece together to see the bigger picture), but they’re fantastic for echoing the narrative structure of Star Wars and its themes.2.  THE COMICSThey’re the next best stop, they are also really great stories in terms of the character arcs, as well as the next best place to get more on the themes of Star Wars.  There have been so many moments, more than anywhere else, that I have wanted to just absolutely (virtually) SCREAM, because HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A HELL OF A MOMENT or HOLY SHIT THAT UNDERSTOOD STAR WARS SO WELL or just had really amazing moments.  I would recommend starting with:- The Star Wars 2015 comic (by Jason Aaron) and read it concurrently with Darth Vader vol. 1 (by Kieron Gillen), as they’re meant to go together.- Then read Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith (by Charles Soule)- After that, in any order:  Age of the Republic comics (by Jody Houser), Obi-Wan & Anakin (by Charles Soule), Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu (by Matt Owens), and Kanan: The Last Padawan (by Greg Wiseman).- I also really enjoy the Star Wars Adventures comics from IDW, the Poe Dameron comics (by Charles Soul) are incredible and give a lot of context to the sequel trilogy and Shattered Empire does a lot in the same vein.3.  THE NOVELSNovels are trickier, because some are good for lore but aren’t necessarily stories I would recommend to new fans, others are amazing stories but don’t necessarily have a lot of lore.  So, I’m going to focus on the books that I think do the most bridge work and help you understand the bigger picture of Star Wars:- The Star Wars Battlefront II video game (okay, not a book, bear with me) does an amazing job of giving more context to how the Empire ended and how it connected to the First Order.  You can do a search on YouTube for “Battlefront 2 game movie” or similar search parameters and watch it like a movie, it’s about two hours and it’s wonderful.  Fall in love with the characters with me, understand why Jakku was important, and get some amazing cameos (and stunning planets) for the OT trio!- The Aftermath trilogy by Chuck Wendig also does a ton of showing how the Empire’s fall wasn’t instantaneous after Endor’s moon, as well as the faltering early steps of the New Republic, and a ragtag bunch who hunt down Imperial war criminals and all come to love each other AND I LOVE THEM, sobs.  I would add in the caveat that I think these work massively better as audiobooks, so check if your library has them and maybe you can check them out on-line and be prepared to give the books a little time to grow on you.- Bloodline by Claudia Gray shows Leia six years before TFA and the New Republic still faltering and how she discovers the early origins of the First Order and loses her position in the Senate and starts up the Resistance.  It’s at its best when it’s a Leia book, but it also does do a lot of groundwork for the connections between the OT and the ST!- From a Certain Point of View by various authors, is a collection of short stories, many of which are hits and many of which are misses, but the hits are amazing.  If nothing else, “Master & Apprentice” (by Claudia Gray–not to be confused with the full novel of the same title), “Time of Death” (by Cavan Scott), “There Is Another” (by Gary D. Shmidt), and “An Incident Report” (by Daniel Mallory Ortberg) are all MUST READS.  I read all of them and I’m glad I did, but if a story isn’t gripping you, feel free to skim over it for the next, they’re only connected by theme, not events.- I loved both Spark of the Resistance (by Justina Ireland) and Resistance Reborn (by Rebecca Roanhorse) as books set between TLJ and TROS, where I grew even more fond of the characters getting to have adventures together.  I also thought the Dooku: Jedi Lost audiodrama was probably the best PT era canon book to recommend, too.4.  THE GUIDEBOOKSGuidebooks are more fun when you’re already invested and just want to look up a thing or two, but there’s at least one that I think is a must-read from cover to cover:  Star Wars Propaganda: A History of Persuasive Art in the Galaxy by Pablo Hidalgo.  It doesn’t sound like it would be that interesting–a history told through art?  But it’s an absolutely stellar bird’s eye view and explanation of how things happened in the GFFA, how the Clone Wars happened, how the Republic fell, how the Empire rose, how the Rebellion fought back, how the New Republic rose, how the First Order knocked it all down again.5.  ANYTHING ELSE?I love the game Jedi: Fallen Order and I think it does an amazing job of staying true to the Jedi Order, their culture, and the themes of Star Wars.  You can do the same thing of looking for a movie-version on YouTube, it should be about four hours long to cover the majority of the game, and I absolutely fell in love with the characters and the world, it was clear they really cared about the story and the lore and making this feel like a game where you got to experience becoming a Jedi.This isn’t a list of “stories I thought were good” but ones aimed at establishing the best understanding of the bigger galaxy, as well as stories that I thought were really good for new fans!  While I put them generally in the order I would suggest them, if something’s not working for you, feel free to drop it and move on to another thing, either coming back later to the dropped one or not, because this should be fun and not boring work.HOPEFULLY THAT’S A GOOD PLACE TO GET YOU STARTED and if someone else would suggest a good Starting Place For A New Fan, feel free to chime in!

[toongrrl-blog]

Perpetua: A Potential Heroine for our times.

Hi everyone we are going to rant about the Bridget Jones series once again and talk about a character, who I feel came too early before our current zeitgeist of bad bitch feminism and the #GirlBoss: Perpetua. 

Perpetua is not intended to be likable. She is very posh, snooty, a bit arrogant, and demanding of Bridget and people she works with, greeting Bridget with a slight sneer as she comes into work and Bridget’s inner monologue voices a desire to staple stuff to her head for having gained a bit of power over Bridget in the publishing company Pemberley Press. Gee, let’s see what we have: entitled, snooty, fancy, having the attitude they are above it all, who has those traits? I’ll wait *sipping tea*

But we notice something about Perpetua; after Bridget’s relationship with Daniel implodes because he was using her as his side piece and decides to find a better job elsewhere, Bridget goes to Daniel to tell him she is quitting. Perpetua overhears and picks up on what has been going on (she is appalled at what she is hearing) and as soon as Daniel tries to beg Bridget to stay, Perpetua gets up to defend Bridget: “I want to hear this, because if she gives one inch, I’m going to fire her bony arse for being totally spineless!” To her smiling pride, she sees Bridget tell Daniel off and leave the publishing company...and that’s the last we see of Perpetua. Even after that (awesome) scene, my teenage self got the message that it’s better to be a Bridget over a Perpetua, a bubbly but insecure girl who tries to conform to the male gaze over a stoic and IDGAF woman who does what she wants. I also heard messages from people, like my parents, telling me how important it was to act and look a certain way to be “likable”; it was better to be insecure and conventionally feminine rather than to be confident not very popular but self-assured. Also Bridget was the rom-com heroine who had people fall in love with her, Perpetua was seen as stuck-up and she was thrown to the wayside. Who stood to reap the benefits of our society?

Looking back, I found out that after almost 20 years of trying to be a Bridget: the “relatable” insecure girl next door type who is vulnerable and needs the validation of those to find her desirable and “worth it” that I’m wasn’t the likable, conventionally pretty and feminine Bridget...I was Perpetua: not always likable, assertive, willing to put her neck out there, not always sociable, but assured of her intelligence and her ability to turn heads. Plus we have our signature style and know how to work accessories. While Bridget dresses basic and in miniskirts (she wants to blend in but also attract men), Perpetua stands out in her headbands, pearls, cardigans, and pie-crust collars combining the elements that I loved in a younger Hillary Rodham Clinton, Peggy Olson, Nancy Wheeler, and Raquel Rodriguez Orozco from Destinos: An Introduction to Spanish. Just a Power Preppie who figured out how to stick out and take her place in a male-dominated workplace, with no apologies. 

After watching Tee Noir’s video on women who were declared to be problematic but upon second viewing and reading were raising valid points about their situation or the situations they observed but lacked the likability or popularity to be taken seriously, I was inspired to finally write this post. As Perpetua was a woman who showcased what it was like to live life on your terms and not ask for the permission of anyone to validate you. A woman who may have envied Bridget’s “bony arse” but didn’t let her size or peoples’ perceptions of her appearance get in the way of getting what she wanted from others. 

Here are some tropes and issues I will be referring to in this order, as they relate to Perpetua’s role in the films and books and how they regard her.

Fatphobia: Being Targeted by Internalized Hatred

“Ah. Introduce people with thoughtful details. Perpetua, this is Mark Darcy. Mark is a prematurely middle-aged prick with a cruel raced ex-wife. Perpetua is a fat-ass old bag who spends her time bossing me around.” Bridget Jones’s inner monologue, Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)

We all know that Bridget Jones is notoriously famous for obsessing over her weight (134 lbs. at 5′4″, which is pretty fine) and that there have been reviews of the books and the movies condemning her or passive-aggressively noting that she isn’t Hollywood Thin and how it was remarkable for she (with hourglass curves, wears a small to medium size, blonde and blue eyed, average pretty at her worst) to get Colin Firth and Hugh Grant (in their prime) to fight over her. Whether we go by the timeline of the books (her birth year being 1962, Marilyn Monroe’s death) or the movies (her birth year being 1969 in the first film, post Jayne Mansfield), we see that Bridget grew up in and became an adult in an age where the female standard of beauty had gotten thinner and thinner, with even models having their pores air-brushed away from their faces. To paraphrase a Mad Men fan when she was talking about the culture of the mid-1960s, when she was a kid and women wanted to look curvaceous as Marilyn and Elizabeth Taylor, she looked like Twiggy; when she developed the voluptuous curves, everyone wanted to look like Twiggy. The 1970s and 1980s was an age of self-improvement as female empowerment (feminism co-opted by capitalism) where dieting and getting thinner was seen as “bettering” oneself. Suddenly it wasn’t cool for Bridget to strut her stuff in a pencil skirt a la Joan Holloway, it wasn’t enough to be a junior partner or to create your own safety net, even the irresistible Veronica Lodge worried about her weight. 

*WARNING: Most of my sources refer to Fat Black Women but I feel like the arguments hold up here*

Then we go to Bridget and Perpetua, aside from their personality clash, Bridget is secretly envious and outwardly disgusted by how Perpetua can be much heavier than Bridget, yet wear curve-hugging clothes and go shopping and not give a shit about how her body looked. Perpetua knows that her boyfriend appreciates her good pussy under her gut! Bridget comforts herself by telling herself that happiness comes from reaching attainable goals....like changing one’s body rather than making money or procuring items....sigh Capitalism is a son of a gun. Clearly Bridget has animosity towards Perpetua for being plump and not feeling like she needs to hide for not looking like a supermodel. But why?

Fatphobia is one way of expressing internalized hatred against one’s body and their own self. In fact, Perpetua committed the sin of loving herself (or being neutral to oneself) as she is, and stands out from the rest of the cast who are obsessed with living up to certain standards to putting forward a certain image to the world that everything is fine. In a fatphobic capitalist patriarchy, it’s quite maddening that she would develop the arrogance and entitlement that she puts on display, especially because she is a...woman! Katie Wee, in her essay for Huffington Post, talked about how it was hard for her to play a fat-shaming exercise instructor in an episode of Shrill because she wouldn’t fat shame another person, but she had practice internalizing that cruelty. Wee talks about her history of eating disorders and over-exercising, all in a bid to become a ballerina, well into her twenties. Currently she works at a body-inclusive fitness studio and that Lindy West and Aidy Bryant were very encouraging in her performance. She also said:

When Annie writes her off, I made the decision that for Tanya this hits something much deeper. It’s as if Annie is saying Tanya’s life’s work is for nothing, or her religion is bullshit. Annie is feeling content in the body she is in, and for Tanya this feels like a personal attack. The subtext to what Tanya is saying is, “If I don’t get to be happy in my body, neither do you! Especially not you.”

This was also explored in the Room 104 episode “The Hikers” where college graduates and childhood best friends go on a hiking trip before they start working or looking for work. Megan (the fabulous Shannon Purser) is plump, freckled, down to earth and happy to have gotten a job offer right after she accepted her degree while her friend Casey (Kendra Carelli) is thin, has excelled on Instagram artifice, and hasn’t procured her own job yet but is triumphant over her past popularity. Yet a placed pebble in Megan’s boot reveals that Casey has been feeling disgust over how her fat friend would thrive in a larger body and not cover up and how she was burdened with making sure she was included in social gatherings growing up, soon Casey’s angry rant after Megan voiced her disgust over Casey’s sense of superiority over her reveals that Casey is angry that being conventionally beautiful and popular hasn’t made her any happier with herself or her own life, while Megan has excelled in their young adulthood in spite of her appearance and lack of popularity. Bridget is angry that Perpetua is thriving and content with her own life despite not looking a certain way while Bridget has been trying to get down to 110 lbs since she was a teenager and has been backing out of rooms after getting laid so the menfolk wouldn’t notice her behind isn’t scrawny (what would she think of Kim Kardashian’s or Nicki Minaj’s behinds?). Bridget, who poured energy into fitting an ideal of an adult woman, is miserable while Perpetua, who isn’t the “ideal woman”, is successful. 

There is also some egocentrism on Bridget’s part: she is a heroine of a rom com so the story centers on her, with her friends being mere satellites. There has been a tradition of the fat best friend who exists to support the leading lady or gent who will fall in love while the fat person gets to sass and serve as cheerleader, with no insight on their inner life. Especially if they are Black. Tee Noir noted that most of the funny fat friends tend to be more engaging and likable or just plain compelling than the conventionally attractive main character, but their characterization is often neglected, to the point of sometimes even lacking a last name. In fact society, and even fat people, are internalized towards thinking that if you don’t fit the standard of desirability (thin, white, young-ish, cis, wealthy), you have to settle for less in your relationships and in entitlements, like how Annie in Shrill goes out with a boy who is too mediocre for her, all because she got the message that a fat girl like her shouldn’t expect a hunk or even a guy who is going to treat her decently and see her as a goddess. The show centered on Annie bringing out her inner fat bitch. Bridget hears constantly from her smug married male pals that women of a certain age shouldn’t be too picky because they aren’t as attractive and fertile as younger women (ring, ring, I am calling Tarana Burke on their asses, can I be the hype man?) and that triggers her insecurities about being single and 130 something pounds. Perpetua, who is a bit older than Bridget, medically overweight, single (but with a boyfriend) and less conventionally attractive than her...and is thriving in her life with no rush to the altar and she is free to voice demands in her relationship. I guess Bridget isn’t as nice as we were supposed to think she is, no shade, but be upfront about it Bridget (or writers). 

But I can go easy on our hapless blonde, because Bridget (and probably Perpetua) internalized the notion that fat is disgusting and that women who aren’t thin enough have to shrink themselves and blend in, not causing waves. Perpetua lets us in on some hints that perhaps she is jealous of Bridget’s looks and figure, referring to her as having a “bony arse” for one, but it’s not a driving trait of her character. In her seminal book on female Baby Boom pop culture history, Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female with the Mass Media, she noted that from a young age women were encouraged to see other women as competition, and if one woman is victorious in one area, we are defeated “And we had grown up with a notion of a female hierarchy in which some women---the Waspy, wealthy, young, and beautiful---were at the top of the pyramid and other women---the poor, the dark-skinned, the ugly, the old, the fat---were at the bottom and this is something that advertising (a source that sells Perpetua her image of wealth and sells Bridget’s insecurities) capitalizes on. Media in the 1970s have even applied the same dichotomy to some feminists where Germaine Greer (before she was all TERFy) and Gloria Steinem were held up as exceptions to the stereotype of ugly, nagging, and/or mannish feminists (something that Betty Freidan, Kate Millet, and the OG Bella Abzug got slapped with). It’s the ugly side affect of individualism.

One can hope that Bridget got the shameless and joyful spirit of that little girl who ran around the paddling pool in her underwear back. 

Who’s Afraid of “Fat ass old bags”?: Backlash against non-insecure women

“Do what you feel in your heart to be right – for you'll be criticized anyway.” Eleanor Roosevelt

Let’s be clear: arrogance isn’t confidence. I use the term “non-insecure” as an umbrella term for Perpetua and for confident women who have faced backlash for their lack of willingness to act like they are less than to appease the patriarchy. But...men get to be arrogant and admired for their drive and accomplishments, hell they don’t even have to accomplish much unless you count bankruptcies (look at who is President of the United States at the time of this writing). So why do women who act arrogantly, aggressively, cut throat, authoritative, or just plain assert their needs and personal boundaries are so vilified? So I will try to look for how we could all learn to be confident as Perpetua. 

Ever since Peggy Olson was promoted to Junior Copywriter, and even before, women in the workplace have been scrutinized from the secretarial pool to even top positions as CEO or junior partner. Like McCann-Erickson in the final season of Mad Men, Pemberley Press is something of a toxic workplace where underlings fight to get noticed for their achievements in dull lighting, men like Daniel Cleaver and Mr. Fitzherbert (more like Tits Pervert, right Bridget?) feel free to sexually harass women who haven’t developed the skills to defend themselves and demand respect, and where the characters we are closest to, don’t really like her. Women in power tend to confuse a white cis male hierarchy with a pecking order where the men try to undermine her authority either because they find her too attractive or make her feel unattractive, sometimes other women would undermine women because their success threatens their own self-image as women. A toxic workplace can also be why Bridget cannot excel at the work she does (she jumps from one toxic workplace to another in the movie); this can also be why Perpetua comes off as a hardass, she has to put up a shield to protect herself and the years working at Pemberley Press have hardened her to the point where Bridget couldn’t relate to her. 

Bridget, according to Daniel Cleaver and the viewers of the films, is likable while Perpetua is not. Bridget is very feminine, sexy, witty, self-deprecating, supportive, warm, and non-intimidating while Perpetua may be feminine (look at them pearls and long hair), she isn’t conventionally attractive as Bridget and her size and age have kept her out of the “sexy box” and while Perpetua is clever, the woman doesn’t ease her way into conversations at parties like Bridget pretty much demanding to be introduced and included in them and she walks with the ease and assumption that she belongs everywhere she goes. Perpetua just also isn’t cuddly, but men get to be aloof like Mark to the point of being insulting or irreverent like Daniel to the point of toxicity, why is Perpetua being judged so harshly for traits that we see in these two high-status men? Forbes magazine once quoted that women are affected by two types of bias at work: prescriptive and descriptive bias. 

Descriptive bias is the labels we attach and associate with certain social groups and communities, and prescriptive bias is how they are expected to behave. And, when someone does not conform to these prescribed roles and behaviors they can be penalized or punished. Women, for instance, are traditionally expected to be caring, warm, deferential, emotional, sensitive, and so on, and men are expected to be assertive, rational, competent and objective. So, when it comes to promotion, these traits are sometimes automatically prescribed to people as per their gender without detailed information about their personalities, thereby a man, in general, is assumed to be a better fit as a leader.

The other side of this is prescriptive bias is when a woman does not fit the role that is traditionally assigned to her and attempts to claim a traditionally male position is seen as breaking the norm. So, when a woman is decisive, she might be perceived as "brusque" and "abrupt". Therefore, for the same kind of leadership behavior, women might be penalized while a man is commended.

Women who are traditionally feminine (passive, self-effacing, caring), are considered “likable” but not leadership material while women who display traditionally masculine traits (assertiveness, self-preservation, ambition) are considered ball-busters. Both women are less likely to get promoted because of both bias, while what’s “bossy”  or, sometimes, “hysterical” for women, get’s men promoted (*cough* Brett Kavanaugh crying that he likes beer *cough*). Women who help out at work aren’t seen for what those caring and proactive qualities can benefit the workplace, it’s expected that a woman would be so domestic. Even female candidates for Head of State are subjected to the tyranny of likability....for a position where the focus has to be on achieving safety and stability for a nation, even if no one likes them, a position that will be decisive no matter what they do. The work can be done by women supporting one another and both genders checking their biases at the door. Men can call out another man for describing their appropriately authoritative female boss as a “bitch” and women can examine why other women demanding more in their relationships or being promiscuous is so threatening to them. Women can even decide who takes turns at office domestic tasks like making coffee and getting birthday cards signed, making it a universal effort by the work site and network with each other as they celebrate each other’s triumphs and different traits.  

Bridget’s passivity doesn’t help her in being taken seriously at work by her male peers either. Whereas Perpetua is disparaged for being older, heavier, and less conventionally attractive as she is criticized for being authoritative, Bridget is reduced to her sex appeal by Daniel to her face and even described as “fannying about with the press releases” (hearing about this treatment incenses Perpetua to Bridget’s side), thereby reducing Bridget’s femininity into something frivolous and not a endearing trait that helps her navigate the world. Bridget has proved in a deleted scene that she can give a brilliant advertising pitch for a horror novel, sadly the assignment was for a children’s book but it was maddening that the men wouldn’t give Bridget that credit (watch it, I can see Peggy Olson smiling somewhere). Bridget is also hampered by what is called “Imposter Syndrome”: according to Wikipedia, it “is a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their skills, talents or accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a 'fraud'” despite have external skills and a number of accomplishments. Aside from her own appearance, Bridget puts her own abilities and intellect down, and it’s no surprise as how her society puts an emphasis on the physical appearance of women: “If you've grown up with messages that you're only valued for your looks and your body, not your skills or intelligence, you may end up getting a certain job or position and wondering whether you truly deserve it or if the hiring manager just thought you were a pretty face”, said clinical psychologist Emily Hu for the BBC (not to mention it’s much harder for women of color who deal with their cultural expectations and prejudice from a white supremacist patriarchy). Bridget’s own outrageous mother hasn’t passed down her bolder traits to her daughter and often makes Bridget feel small as she berates her for “not getting your colours done” or being unmarried. 

In a world where tomboys and girly girls are pitted against each other, what would have happened if Perpetua and Bridget have let go of their preconceived notions of one another? Perpetua does seem to see Bridget as more than “blonde hair and big boobs”. It’s worth seeing that when the Bustle wrote about how to combat workplace misogyny, that they emphasized how important it was to support other women in the workplace as Perpetua did for Bridget at the last minute, alongside feeling free to disagree with men and demand a raise. Once again I want to note, Bridget and Perpetua are both white cis able-bodied women from upper-middle class backgrounds, so if their professional journey is fraught just imagine what it’s like for women of color. 

Tough Women

“You can stand me up at the gates of hell. But I won't back down.” I Won’t Back Down, Tom Petty  

Bridget learns, as we all do, and like Perpetua might have done that if she wanted to overcome her issues, she really has to confront her own discomfort and take risks as she demands more from life. Perpetua is a tough woman: she doesn’t appear to soften, even when she is greeting Bridget or Mark Darcy, who she is impressed by and she seems to encourage Natasha’s efforts to snatch him up. Granted a woman like Perpetua probably learned she had to tough, if she wanted to make it in a male-dominated workspace, I would not be surprised if she had parents who instilled a sense of ambition and toughness in her from a young age, or like Megan from Bridesmaids, she had to deal with a childhood of bullying and took that pain to transform herself into a formidable character.

We also see from her confrontation with Daniel, she isn’t afraid to get harsh with a powerful man especially after she finds out that he has been using a female employee sexually and been denigrating her worth at the office. 

We don’t know Perpetua’s physical prowess and she clearly prefers pearls to combat boots, but she does possess traits that are associated with men: logical mind, firm, self-reliant, witty, sharp-minded, a professional in a cutthroat environment, and is flawed while being formidable. Perpetua is strong, a Shonda Rhimes character that Rhimes herself hasn’t created. Sadly like most Tough Girls, she isn’t her own protagonist and is there as an accessory to the main character, the Trinity to The Matrix’s Neo and she is often the lone woman that Bridget interacts with at work. Tough Girls are counterparts to more “typical” women: traditionally feminine women who are softer and more emotional...Bridgets. One thing I want to note is that Bridget is the protagonist instead of a love interest but yet she stands alone as her friendships are not that positive and her relationship with her mother is strained. Like Ripley of the Alien series, Perpetua is the lone smart and strong woman who has to deal with a environment where no one else wants to listen to her and everyone is ruled by their emotions (or their libido). She is Joan Holloway, who weathers the misogynistic waters with her razor-sharp observations and commentary regarding the absurdities of the people who are around her, while not being afraid to command attention and others, even at the risk at not being truly liked but “admired”. Not a phony. Perpetua is a privileged woman but like I stated before, she dealt with a combination of body-shaming and misogyny that toughened her...but why should a woman be tough and hurt? We could have had a scene where Bridget encourages Perpetua to reveal her vulnerabilities and open up along with Perpetua pushing her to be more resilient over a spa day with face masks, pedicures, beer, Milk Trays, pizza, Terminator movies, and hair makeovers while discussing how to hide Uncle Geoffrey’s body.

Strong Independent Women

“The watch I'm wearin', I've bought it. The house I live in, I've bought it. The car. I'm driving, I've bought it. I depend on me, I depend on me.” Independent Women, Destiny’s Child

Imagine trying to reconcile feminist principles of not depending on male partners and rugged individualism that insists the opposite of what John Donne’s quote about how one person is a party of a larger community. You have the Strong Independent Woman, who is used by capitalism to sell feminism and face cream/Spanx/sanitary napkins/Wonderbras/lipstick, who needs no man (or interdependence) to thrive in a still misogynistic world. This misogynistic world also abhors the independence, self-assurance, self-reliance, and self-love of women who choose to follow their path. Meanwhile the non-mainstream feminist and environmental movement have pushed for a culture of interdependence and for a culture that doesn’t base one’s value on how much money or genius or beauty (or what have you) an individual possesses; Bella Abzug noted that “Our struggle today is not to have a female Einstein get appointed as an assistant professor. It is for a woman schlemiel to get as quickly promoted as a male schlemiel”.

But the image of the female individualist for one strong reason: women are still expected to perform the bulk of emotional and domestic labor while being paid less than their male peers for the same job, also because of ingrained sexism and perpetuated self-doubt, many women are still dependent on their spouses, parents, bosses, the opinions of others. It’s nice to see images of powerful, strong, often gorgeous women of wealth not have to depend on men for their worth or their livelihood. But we are flesh-and-blood human beings, not super beings or robots; even Perpetua shows some vulnerability when she refers to Bridget being a lot thinner than she and she is clearly looks crestfallen when she hears that Bridget has been belittled and used for her body by Daniel, we don’t hear much about her circle of friends in the movie aside from Natasha (in the book, she is friends with some same-minded women). Everyone needs an interdependent society of people supporting one another and helping each other grow. 

Perpetua both upholds and subverts the tenets of the Independent Woman: she isn’t the supermodel-esque independent woman but Perpetua makes her own money and at lot of it, she dresses very well to project her authority in the workplace, she is bold, rejects the validation of male authority, and she isn’t afraid to be unlikable. She lives in a big city (because independent and single people don’t live in small towns or the suburbs *sarcasm*), presumably in her own spacious apartment or even a townhouse, she has found herself at some point before the story and has a strong sense of self, she works hard and has a strong sense of purpose because of her work ethic, and heaven help the dumbass that underestimates her or any other woman. She is a non-superpowered Carol Danvers: rather than waiting for someone to rescue her, she is quick to rescue herself from self-doubt or even rescue someone from injustice. She is noted to have a love interest, but she doesn’t revolve her world around him and is suggested to make demands for her needs in the relationship, showing she isn’t prone to fuckwittage as Bridget is (perhaps Perpetua learned to put a stop to that bullshit?). Of course because this is Bridget’s story, a woman who yearns for that fairytale ending of marriage, and this is a regressive, “post-feminist” (what sense does that make?) story, Perpetua isn’t a role model and is seen as a polar opposite to Bridget’s softness, ditziness, girliness, romanticism, and self-effacing persona.

I want to stop and say that I am so happy to be writing this essay in 2020, a year in which a large number of women (especially of color) have been elected to political office in record numbers with the Indian and Jamaican American Kamala Harris being elected as Vice President of the United States (and the first woman to do so). She is also independent enough to make her own money and develop her sense of self, along with a strong sense of agency and inter-dependent enough to credit the support and love she has from her blended family including her late mother. In fact the independent women of Broad City, Sex and the City, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Moana, Mulan, and GLOW (crossing self) all have inter-dependent systems of support and are one another’s family (hell even Bridget’s so-called friends are her “Urban Family”). I also want to say, it’s highly likely that Kamala was more a Perpetua and not a Bridget (or else she wouldn’t have been able to succeed like she has done in her career), thus her win as Vice President vindicates Perpetuas who have worked and lived before her. 

Working Women Do’s and Don’ts

“You're just a step on the boss man's ladder. But you got dreams he'll never take away.” 9 to 5, Dolly Parton

As established, Perpetua is happily single (but also partnered), she fulfilled in material comforts, she is unafraid to confront men about their bullshit (she has a hard time trying to get Fitzherbert away, I bet), and she has high standards. To paraphrase Charlotte Pickles, to thrive where she works she has to “eat, breathe, and sweat self-esteem” and she does. This is something that Bridget lacks and something I feel Perpetua can help her with. Sadly we never got that chance: the gentle and feminine Bridget and the stern and neutral Perpetua bonding in a mutually beneficial kinship. I’m sure that Perpetua wishes she could talk back to men like Julia Sugarbaker of Designing Women and that her role models came after some viewings of Working Girl, Baby Boom, and Murphy Brown and perhaps by the privileged and successful men (and a few women) in her family. It must be said that despite being referred to and clearly existing, we never see Perpetua’s boyfriend and that’s because pop culture has long depicted women in managerial and supervisory positions as lonely, ice-cold, unfeminine, and hard. Meanwhile more feminine women like Bridget don’t get the respect that Perpetua has and demands, and Perpetua lacks Bridget’s likability (Bridget of the many men and one woman who fall in love with her). While I wouldn’t consider Perpetua to be politically progressive (she is a woman of privilege and Sloan Rangers are considered Tories) but she isn’t a woman who is willing to exploit others for her own bottom line (or the corner office). We do see that she is quick to defend Bridget from slut-shaming or having her worth denigrated by Daniel, which leads to a rare scene of comcaderie between her and Bridget. I get the sense that Perpetua isn’t merely interested in ruling the workplace, but she wants to change the workplace enough to be less toxic (getting rid of Daniel and Fitzherbert). 

I can find some similarities to Perpetua in three fictional characters known for their drive in the workplace: Dr. Christina Yang (Grey’s Anatomy), Peggy Olson (Mad Men), and Princess Carolyn (Bojack Horseman). Christina Yang, like her creator Shonda Rhimes (if you are reading this Ms. Rhimes or someone writing or interning for her, please feel free to take ideas for a film or show about Perpetua, I need cheddar), is proudly childfree, dominant, blunt, up for a good time, and voraciously sexual and ambitious. Like Perpetua, she doesn’t aim to please others and very performative in her actions and words along with being caring and brusque (and snarky, especially about the terrifying Mr. Blobby). Also like Perpetua, Yang finds comcaderie with a bubbly young blonde who is sometimes reduced to her beauty (Izzy as played by Katherine Heigel) and tries to lift her girl friends up. While Perpetua has been working in a post Cold War publishing company, Peggy Olson is a young woman from Brooklyn working at a advertising agency in the 1960s, with different struggles from her more “sexier” counterpart (Joan is a more confident Bridget after all, and Peggy has some BJ traits). Peggy is also a trailblazer for assertive working women of today and paved the way for Perpetua across the pond, setting an example from the ground up (partly observing the men above her) when she wasn’t able to find much female role models that didn’t rely on their sexuality or follow a traditional path. Women during that time didn’t have reproductive freedom, equal pay (still, sigh), and working women were shamed for wanting to follow a different path. Peggy also deals with fatphobia in Season One (she was actually pregnant) and divorced herself from her sexuality temporarily (but she experiments with sex and drugs throughout the series). Like Peggy, Perpetua isn’t crippled by Don Draper’s self-loathing (Bridget) or lack of discipline (Daniel) and Perpetua had to learn to believe in herself rather than merely rely on the validation of others. Princess Carolyn is a pink, perky, girly girl cat but like Perpetua she has a relentless drive, is intelligent, hard-working, can sell something (a celebrity image or books), and knows how to positively influence certain people around her. All these women have lived by their own self-definitions and owned the struggles they endured to get ahead. 

Can’t Be Tamed

Walter Stratford: Hello, Katarina. Make anyone cry today?

Katarina Stratford: Sadly, no. But it's only 4:30. 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

Rom Coms (such as Bridget Jones’s Diary) have a nasty habit of wanting to tame, soften, tone down, settle down an independent woman with her strong mind, sharp tongue, active sex life, and own money to matrimony. Then we have heroines who are allowed to fly their freak flag and find their own tribe (or leading man). That is Kat Stratford, the teenage feminist protagonist of 10 Things I Hate About You, a girl that Perpetua would have been at that age if she were American with blonde, pretty privilege. After all Perpetua has been perceived by Bridget (a Bianca without wit or spine) as a “heinous bitch” as delivered by the fabulous Allison Janney; they are perceived as difficult women who rain down their parades with their truth and don’t suffer the foolishness of arrogant men. Such women are supposed to be tamed, which has several meanings. The negative being to “tone down” or “dominate”; an alternate definition has been offered by The Little Prince’s fox “to earn one’s trust”.

We don’t know if Perpetua has anyone, romantic or platonic, to complement her personality and balance her out as Natasha seems to have Perpetua’s negative traits. This is where she and Bridget could have developed a friendship, combining vulnerability and a disdain for the fickle opinions of others and keep from having to choose between love and career, between relationships and financial independence. We could have seen a closer relationship blossom over the story just as Bianca and Kat grow closer to one another in the film. Maybe Bridget demanding more from Mark at the end, telling him that just because he bought her a new diary it doesn’t mean that he can get away with walking away from her and that it makes up for how tight-assed he can be with Perpetua cheering her on and another scene where Bridget smiles and let’s Perpetua squees over something in excitement. 

Like Kat, the Perpetuas can find their own tribes or mates. 

Women of Privilege in Media

Rich bitches, girl bosses, sassy queens, matriarchs, as Christopher Rosa noted about these women (which includes Perpetua): "They're rude, they're loaded, and we love them for it.” In a world that hates empowered women, as bell hooks bluntly noted, these Regina Georges, Cheryl Blossoms, Alexis Carringtons, and Perpetuas take back that slur and wrap it up in designer couture and fabulous accessories with nary a hair out of place. They own the negative stereotypes and manicure it into an image of fearlessness. They reject the social pressures placed on women to be nice no matter what, likable, fade into the background, and talk themselves down. Rich bitches indulge themselves with no apology and wear their strengths as boldly as their statement jewelry. But what if you don’t want to be bitchy all the time, what if you want to channel that fierceness into something constructive? 

#Girlboss is an atom and a half: traditionalists argue that she isn’t a proper “feminine” woman who loses out on heterosexual love and children (”true womanhood”) while many feminists argue that she simply advanced to a seat in the patriarchy and doesn’t give a damn about the little people below her enough to truly make positive changes. Pop Culture has four flavors of the this character, as noted by The Take: the Bitch Boss, the Pre Code Boss who acts the way we think women started acting like after 1968, the Feminine Boss, and the social media savvy Girlboss who starts companies with cutesy names like WAHAM or WEEMAN or GOOP and they are often white and conventionally attractive. The last flavor exploits feminist phrases while selling out to capitalism and patriarchy for women to buy more shit and willing to step on people’s heads while building her empire. Sometimes she’s Charlotte Pickles, a somewhat ruthless but loving mother and CEO who loves angora sweaters, is glued to her phone, and can effectively hit the roof of a overturned boat with her high heel. Perpetua may seem standoffish to care only about her bottom line or take on traditionally masculine traits like Ruth Chatterton in Female or Diane Keaton in Baby Boom, but she proves to be a Leslie Knope when she stands up for Bridget in a heated moment. Perpetua has no necessity for large pink letters or catchphrases to prove she is a powerful (and empowered) woman, she simply is. One can see Perpetua taking over Pemberley Press, first Daniel’s job and then ousting Fitzherbert and taking his position, thus ousting misogyny from that workplace and using her power to uplift more voices in writing. 

Bridget and Perpetua, meet, Betty and Veronica (respectively). While the Bridget the Nice Girl avoids her issues (and Betty can be in danger of being subsumed by them), Veronica and Perpetua make their rules and are willing to break them. Like Perpetua, the teenage Veronica wears her posh prep clothes proudly with a string of pearls and headbands holding her shiny hair. Veronica is also confronting a system (and family legacy) that taints America and makes living so impossible for people who have no boots to pull the straps from and handicaps her to a pedestal. Perpetua seems to want her friend Natasha to snap up Mark Darcy (remember she knows nothing of Mark and Bridget) like Veronica in the CW reboot wanted Betty to do with Archie. Both want to work hard and be recognized for their merit, not wanting to depend solely on Daddy’s money, bucking long-standing patriarchal expectations of upper-class young women who were expected to marry a man from a similar class and have children to inherit the money. Perpetua and Veronica show a willingness to get down and dirty while being allies to their less privileged and/or more passive female comrades. They also wield their power to take down over-puffed authority figures who abuse their privilege and have attitude when a woman gets slut-shamed or otherwise mistreated. Remember Daniel and Mr. Titspervert, Perpetua’s specialty is ice.

Legally Blonde and Bridesmaids, etc. 

Vivian Kensington. Elle Woods. Professor Stromwell. These women showcase an alternative where cold but supportive women befriend our plucky blonde protagonist in a Playboy bunny suit and a douchebag ex-boyfriend (before ending up with a lawyer who comes off as uptight). Legally Blonde gifted Elle camaraderie with these women while Perpetua was left at the wayside and Elle was given a circle of supportive friends while Bridget had friends who negged her and were a poor influence on her confidence. Where Delta Nu gave Elle their time to help her practice for the LSATS, Bridget’s friends openly wonder out loud that Mark Darcy said he likes Bridget as she is, ditziness and unfashionable (of the time) curves and non-airbrushed looks (really?). We also see Elle add more people to her friend circle, like the working-class Paulette who proves to be mutually supportive of Elle and has been empowered by her to stand up to her ex and then we focus on two women who stand in for Perpetua: the steely Professor Stromwell ( the Mrs. Sarah Paulson, Holland Taylor) and the preppy  Vivian Kensington (Selma Blair, la diva). Vivian and Elle start out as rivals for the handsome but douchey Warner Huntington III, who categorizes these women as the wife material Jackie and the fun and hot-tubbing Marilyn, but slowly upon finding out that their professor is a sexist who demands his young interns get him coffee and that Warner lacks Elle’s integrity find some common ground. Vivian is horrified and takes back her previous behavior upon hearing that their professor has sexually harassed Elle, reducing this intelligent and savvy young woman to her sex appeal. Also Professor Stromwell puts Elle on the spot on her first day of classes at and has a reputation for making her students sob, but it’s implied that Stromwell sees a bit of herself in Elle and wants this young woman to succeed and that means challenging her to do the hard work in Harvard. In the climax of the film, when Elle discusses quitting Harvard because of people undervaluing her intellect and being sexually harassed as a final straw, Stromwell turns around in her salon chair and tells Elle: “If you let one male prick ruin your life, you’re not the girl I thought you were.” Stromwell gets credit in Elle’s valedictorian speech at the end of the film. We see here that while Elle upholds girliness and finds new love in a established lawyer, unlike Bridget she has a support system of women (and a few men) who encourage her to kick ass and challenge the perceptions of others and celebrate her triumph in defending someone from a life-altering sentence. 

I feel that in 2001, either Annie Mumulo or Kristen Wiig watched BJD and found the relationship between Bridget and Megan wanting as well as I did, this likely spurred them into writing Bridesmaids, a film that centered on women fighting over a best friend rather than a man, where the male love interest listened to the protagonist vent about her friend issues, and where an overweight and unconventional female secondary character pushes our insecure everywoman protagonist to start fighting for her goals and her sense of self, or rather her “shitty life”. Annie (Kirsten Wiig) is a former owner of a bakery that fell victim to the 2008 recession who is hitting rock bottom as her childhood best friend gets engaged and starts befriending her fiancee’s boss’s preened to perfection wife Helen (Rose Byrne)  and then finds comfort and motivation in the form of the fiancee’s wacky sister Megan (Melissa McCarthy). Annie gets loonier as the movie goes on (ahem) until Megan persuades her to channel that spirit more constructively; Megan is proud of her hard-earned achievements and is confident but also kind enough to adopt several puppies and see Annie at her lowest. Megan earns her own money and demands more from her relationships than the other women in the movie (unhappy marriages, lack of communication, lack of trust) and emboldens Annie to grab life by the horns, thus starting a new friendship. It’s notable that this film is about post-college aged adults and the role of friendships in their lives.

Perpetua’s Potential

The 2010s have shown more narratives that focused on women’s relationships with one another and have even re-defined what “happily ever after” looks like and as a result of the #MeToo and #TimesUp Movements, women have examined how toxic their culture is to women and finding that the harassment and assault of women to be terrifyingly normalized and it has been for a long time. Millennial and Gen Z women have even questioned the issue of pitting women against each other, one of which is the “not like other girls” attitude that pits the cool babe or the weird girl against the high-maintenance girly girls that easily conform to society (even rewriting these types as friends or lovers to one another). 

So what does that mean for Bridget Jones’s Diary? Well we could see a B Plot on Mark Darcy and his divorce from his Japanese ex-wife and she’d be given her own inner life and complexities, Perpetua might have to reconcile her relationship with Bridget and Natasha (the latter who is hostile to the former), we could see Perpetua strike up a friendship with her polar opposite Bridget and the narrative could focus on Bridget helping Perpetua open up her softer side while Perpetua gives Bridget the encouragement to stand up to her (admittedly) trashy family and friends and demand more from her relationship with Mark (or even dump him). We can even see them include Rebecca Gillies, the beautiful trust fund baby that works for Mark and finds Bridget to be desirable as she is (without being backhanded about it Mark!). We can see Bridget become stronger as she has one friend who challenges her to be better and another friend who finds her supremely wonderful and gets her to see it. 

Maybe we can see Uncle G die, a girl can dream.

The Rise of the Perpetuas or what happened after Bridget drank some of Perpetua’s Juice

#MeToo, #TimesUp, #BossBitch, Lizzo, Ariana Grande, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Beyonce, Hillary Clinton, Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar, the Notorious (and late) Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Jacinda Ardern, Michelle Obama, Jameela Jamil, Mindy Kaling, Tiffany Ferg, Kimberly Nicole Foster, Dahvi Waller, Gretchen Whitmer, #BlackGirlsAreMagic, Mothers of the Movement, CaShawn Thompson, Intersectional Feminism, Black Feminism, Mad Men, Mrs. America, Insecure, The Baby Sitters Club, Amy Schumer, GLOW, Emma Gonzalez, Candice Carty Williams, Malala Yousafzai, Kamala Harris, Meghan Markle...all of them have grappled with issues like Bridget and Perpetua and have even expanded the conversation about women’s day to day lives and the small (and large) ways society is misogynistic and have gone further to question why it’s so commonplace. We even see a talk about body neutrality (as opposed to the sanitized body positivity), which one can easily see Perpetua practicing. We also see women being held up in social media as being “stanned” for being difficult, wonderful, achievement oriented, sassy, fierce, outspoken, demanding, and fashionable...all things that Perpetua was put down for. 

“I just took a DNA test, turns out I'm 100% that bitch

Even when I'm crying crazy

Yeah, I got boy problems, that's the human in me

Bling bling, then I solve 'em, that's the goddess in me” Truth Hurts, Lizzo

To paraphrase Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?: All this time, they could have been friends. 

The year 2020 has been a dismal year for women’s careers as women are swamped with the demands of domestic life and bosses have shown that they won’t cut their employees slack for having kids in the background. People even explored how the pandemic has revealed cracks in society from economic disparity, how women are ultimately shouldered with the burdens of home that men aren’t expected to, how vulnerable marginalized communities are in systems with poor health care and systemic bigotry, and the lack of a social safety net. These are challenges I see Gen X, Millennial, and Gen Z women pushing back against (I will show up, pussy hat and mask on my person). One can even see Bridget, the ex Mrs. Darcy, Perpetua, and Rebecca marching in their Women’s March or even the global Black Lives Matter marches as they cheer on (or help) “tipped” over statues of colonizers and slave traders. We’d even see them attend virtual seminars on how to be better allies to BIPOC and listen as ex Mrs. Darcy talked about her difficulties as a East Asian woman in a predominantly white society and Bridget promising to call out her mother for her racist comments. There’d be no good woman/bad-woman dichotomy being perpetuated as they embrace each other’s differences. 

[jaypelt]

Cheers for Five Years of Undertale, and its Everlasting Effect on Me

Been a while since I’ve done one of these... I might even be rusty at it! Honestly, what I’ve got right now are more vague thoughts than coherent words in my head. I wasn’t sure if I’d even do this, since I felt it wasn’t entirely necessary. Everybody had so much to say! But spurned on by the display of someone very close to me, the cogs in my head couldn’t help but start turning for me too. So here I am. This isn’t going to be easy, though. Because if you read this, I need you to understand the depth of my feelings. Even if just a little. So I’ll do my best to bare my heart yet again, for the sake of it and everything its done for me. Everything it’ll keep doing for me.

The beginning is usually always one of the hardest parts. A blank space devoid of anything, that you’ve got to somehow miraculously fill with thoughts somebody else could understand. But Undertale is rarely a subject I ever have to struggle so much with. It’s been a long, long five years.

This is re-treading old ground that a number of those who know me are already familiar with, however, I don’t think this would be complete without it. But it will get very, VERY personal. If you’re not comfortable with that, then uh... giving you another warning now. But pushing forward...

Right before UT came out, I hadn’t begun to really unravel quite yet. But I was very close. It was somewhat of a rough transitional period as I moved on from my middle school to high, losing very dear IRL friends and generally continuing to struggle with school, as I had been for years. Untreated ADHD is real nasty. But I’d always had at least some friends, either online, or ones I made throughout the year, to rely on. And I didn’t really think about things. The start of this school year was no different. Even having a... perhaps questionable choice of boyfriend, but, well, he was my first.

I struggled with just about every aspect of school from basically the start, but having a small group, and especially an online partner to come home to everyday, helped me at least get through. In the coming months, however, I’d start to encounter more turbulence. Through aforementioned partner, I met someone who’d come to rely on me far more than he should have. Made even worse by the fact that he was a full grown adult while I was only 14, which will be a recurring trend. And has been for most of my life.

We hit it off pretty quickly, becoming good friends and talking to each other outside of mutual friend spaces. And through that, he started to open up about his problems. Living with a family that treated him poorly, suicidal urges, and particularly, an abusive boyfriend. If you know me well, I’ve probably definitely talked about this at least a little.

My daily routine starting becoming supporting this person through all of his troubles. Sitting in skype calls or exchanging messages for hours at a time on the daily. Rarely did a day go by where I didn’t, slowly sinking into an apathetic pit from overextending myself for the sake of his mental health. I couldn’t even help him improve, all I could do was just try to keep him alive. Which, well, I did. For months.

Everything else fell to the wayside as I was constantly stressed about the life of someone I cared about. Obviously my school life suffered even further. I grew withdrawn from everyone, and kept only to the few online friends I had. However, in the midst of this downward spiral, just before the ball really got rolling, a certain game came out. Exactly a month after it had come out, October 15th, 2015, I’d become interested after all the talk on tumblr about Undertale.

After watching a playthrough on youtube(I didn’t play for myself at first, a pity), It’d personally resonated so strongly and gotten me so hooked that it was something I invested a fair amount of my time into consuming content about. I grew super attached to all these characters that’d made me laugh, smile, cry... just this whole spectrum of emotions. And someone in particular, Alphys, really caught my attention after things had begun to get worse.

She felt so... relatable, though I couldn’t possibly tell you all the reasons. When I think about it, we’re not really the most similar, but something about her just hooked me. Maybe because she had all these things going on that nobody knew about. And that she lied. And felt so anxious interacting with anyone after she’d previously been much warmer and closer. That she was closer to “disappearing” than she seemed.

Whatever the reasons, the months moving further along, consuming content about UT practically became my lifeline. I reblogged heaps and heaps of posts  about it, watched videos, listened to the soundtrack, even started drawing because I’d been so inspired. When I was just stuck in this horrible pit of second-hand depression, it was the one thing that still made me happy. I started to really think about why it mattered to me and how. It’s funny, I’d read books obsessively for years before then, but UT was the thing that really got me thinking. It was all downhill from there, I tell you. Now I’m an artist and a writer. Horrific.

But, unfortunately, for all its good... it couldn’t stop what was to come. I was still getting worse and worse, with no end in sight. I’d already been supporting... let’s call him Phil, for a few months. And in December of that year, my boyfriend completely dropped off the grid for a while. I’d see him appear online sometimes and I’d message him, but no response, then right back to offline. Finally, he came back, approaching me with something he obviously was uncomfortable about.

To make a long story short, he’d come to the conclusion that he was straight, and decided to end the relationship. What’s bad is that... honestly? I was already doing so poorly that I had a hard time caring. But we did pretty much stop talking, and I leaned into Undertale all the more. Anyway, time continued to pass. Not without its few ups, and mostly downs. I got used to being called “mature”, usually followed by “especially for your age.” “Phil” told me that if I were legal, he’d date me. I’ve got a crippling fear of screwing up with people that’s stuck with me to this day, after a few occasions involving him. I considered doing some... not so great things to myself. Thankfully, I was always so averse to physical pain that it didn’t become anything extreme.

As for the few ups, there was “Phil” finally managing to leave his abusive relationship, when he’d tried previously and fallen into such a bad depressive episode I had to talk him down. So that was something. He’d even started going to therapy after the second break up.

Not that it did a whole lot. The school year began approaching its end and nothing had really changed. I’d been going through all the same motions for around half a year or more. My sleep was terrible, I was passing almost none of my classes, had practically no friends to speak of, and just felt... tired. All the time. But during this... the minute beginning of a monumental shift started. Another character in UT had begun to clutch me in his grasp. Even more strongly than Alphys. Flowey. Through the posts a singular person on tumblr had made about him and my experience with the geno run, I came to understand the dumb little flower more. Which is also funny, because he was previously my least favorite. Even, yes, after the Asriel reveal.

I’m having a difficult time weaving together this convoluted timeline of events, but it was around... perhaps March or early April that the person whom I’d been supporting for almost a full fucking year completely disappeared. Without a word. The one thing I’d tried to stick to for so long was just. Gone. So I drifted about with, well, no purpose.

By the end of the school year, it probably goes without saying that I was... not doing great. But one those aforementioned acquaintances I’d only just started to become actual friends with came forth to me with a question. That being if there was some way for us to keep contact during the summer. So I gave her my email, which would turn out to be a decision that saved my life. Because things would only get worse before they got better.

This is getting to be way, way, way too long. So to summarize, summertime came around and I’d been in pretty close contact with... I’ll just call her V. She was... well, unlike anyone I’d ever known. Someone who stood out with the intelligence you could just see in their eyes. Outgoing, charismatic, compassionate... all those sorts of things. We were opposites in a lot of ways. Or, at least, it felt like it.

Some things happened, like “Phil” coming back after months of nothing. Me immediately slotting back into my role of being a pillar of support, but then screwing up and hating myself for it. But honestly, that ain’t shit to the rest of the whole shitshow.

For a bit of context, my parents are divorced. So for most of the previous years, I’d been going to my mom’s place during the summer and staying with her the whole time, to make up for how rarely we’d see each other otherwise. That year... she was beginning to run low on money. She lived next to my granny, but still basically alone, compared to how she’d been staying with someone else in hotels for the few prior years.

After learning she didn’t have enough to pay rent and might be kicked out, she tried to appeal to her mom, who said she wouldn’t let her stay. Why? I don’t know. After that, she spiraled into a panic. And, well, the ever faithful little worker bee, I stepped forward to try and console her in any way I could. She seemed to recompose, at least a little. It wasn’t great, and she thought she’d have to do some unsavory things in order to survive, but... I thought that, just maybe, I’d done something.

But... later that night, she started drinking. Which... well, put her in a mood. Exacerbated by the day’s earlier events and the fact that she was taking medication that responded poorly to alcohol. She came over to where I was sitting, my little makeshift desk I’d put together to set up my desktop, with my little sister just in the other room. Just... a warning for this next part, it’s... grim. More grim than anything else in this thread.

She proceeded to tell me she was going to go upstairs and grab the gun my granny kept in her room. And berated me for thinking I’d done anything to help, saying she “wasn’t like my little friends” that I could simply talk to. With that, she walked away, heading upstairs. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so crushed in my entire life, to this day. I broke down crying, sitting in that chair.

Yet, somehow, I managed to stop when I saw her coming back down. She walked back over, pointed the gun at her head, and told me to give her a reason she shouldn’t do it. And also to this day, I.... still don’t know if I said what was right. It was all I could think of. I quietly told her that if she did it, I’d pick that gun up and do it to myself. Same as her. And I asked if she wanted to be responsible for that.

It was true, too. By that point, I didn’t care anymore.

And if there’s one thing I can say about her, it’s that she’s always cared about me. In a horrible, twisted way especially, that night. It was enough to make her silently pull the gun down, go back upstairs, and put it away. One last time... she came down, walked past me to the front door and simply said “I love you.” before going out to sit on the porch.

I’m not sure I’ll ever truly get over the events of that night. I spoke to V afterwards, as I’d been keeping in regular contact, as I said. And even been speaking to her throughout the day about what was happening. I think she was panicking just as much as I had been, and told me to go find the gun and unload it. So I did. Bawling my eyes out the whole damn time. Afterwards, I took the bullets and threw them in the large neighborhood garbage can.

The rest of the night’s a blur. I don’t recall if anything else happened, I just remember waking up tired the next day. My uncle was in the house, as he’d been staying with my granny for a while, but hadn’t been around the night before. I tried to talk to him, but.. couldn’t bring myself to open up. Even though we were pretty close. I went back to my dad’s.

That wasn’t the end of it, either. For the next coming months, I’d get drunken calls and live in fear of being put right back in the same situation. It got so bad that I stopped answering my phone altogether. I broke contact with my mom entirely. I still hate answering or making calls.

Anyway, a few other things happened in the summer, like my applying for online courses. And the subsequent ridicule from my dad’s side of the family for the decision. Tell you what, the stress of taking a test to try and join that online program, then going to golden corral and having to struggle to not cry in front of everyone there was... not the ideal way to spend a birthday. Happy 15 years to me.

So.... that was that. I still went through with online courses and everything kind of... slowed to a crawl. I tried to do school work, but depression and still yet untreated ADHD prevented me from making any substantial progress beyond a few finished classes. For a while I simply... existed in a limbo. All I did was get up, get on my computer, maybe talk to a few people, and play Overwatch. Maybe look at tumblr, as I remained into Undertale. V and I lost contact after school started back up. I never blamed her for it. In fact, I preferred it that way. She didn’t deserve to have such a burden placed on her, and I still... feel guilty for leaning on her so much.

But I’m very thankful. I hope she’s out there living a good life, wherever she is.

And this! Is where we finally get to the not depressing parts! And only... what, 29 paragraphs in? Sheesh... I know I wanted to really illustrate just how shit things were to demonstrate just how much UT did for me, but this is taking it a bit far, isn’t it? Ah well... already made it this far. In for a penny, in for a pound. If you’ve made it this far, congratulations! I’m sorry. Truly. And I love you so very dearly.

Time went by and I kept doing my thing. Playing Overwatch(a practically self-destructive behavior deserving a therapy, frankly), talking to the few friends I had that I kept at an arm’s length, that sort of stuff. “Phil” and I no longer talked, thank goodness. Obviously I was depressed as all hell, not bothering to shower, eat, clean up, or do laundry for days on end. I spent more time asleep than I did awake, on most days. Did I say this was where the not depressing part was? I may have lied a little.

Blah blah “more months go by”, you know the drill. Until... I believe, November of 2016. After cementing my love of Flowey ever deeper, I’d started to follow more blogs putting out content for him on tumblr. In particular, the most important ones being I’lltrytobegood, Flowey-Answers, and later happyflowey and Corruptedflora.

It all started with a stream. I joined an art stream of LLA(Lovelyladyartist) on picarto as he worked on ITTBG. I kept quiet for the first few streams I joined, being too anxious to really out myself in any capacity. But little by little, I was coerced out of my shell. Particularly by one SilverKhaos, who I think at the time went by SilverSlayer or something. Anyway, he got me talking. And through that, I started making friends, bit by bit.

Also through the stream, I was introduced to CC(CuteCatDoodles) of Flowey-Answers. I obsessively read through the entire blog in a single sitting, just... having such a good time with it. And... strangely enough, it... got me feeling oddly better. Like I’d finally started to breath after not being able to for what felt like such a long time. If just a little. The next day, I got out of bed early, cleaned up, took out some garbage, and made breakfast. Just a simple plate of scrambled eggs. A simple, easy morning for most any average person. But for me? It was one of the most special mornings I’ve ever had.

Likewise, I did the same with Ding’s happyflowey, of reading through all of it in a single night. My head hurt like a motherfucker, but I tell you, it was worth it. The effect perhaps not as profound, but still very meaningful to me, as well as sowing the seeds of yet more relationships to form. If far off in the future, as far as this timeline is concerned. I still adore all of those dumb, charming little flowers so much. Mania would come to inspire my first ever OC, in fact. Thinking about that blog makes me miss when the UT fandom was more active here, even though I never participated in the fandom at large. But I’m grateful for the memories and incredible amounts of enjoyment getting to read it all brought me. I have way too many cropped images of Hysteria.

I wasn’t immediately better, but it was all the start of something new. I kept up with the streams, also joining in for CC’s. For hours upon hours a day, I’d just hop into them and spend the day talking away. I had something to really look forward upon waking up, starting to adjust my schedule so that I at least didn’t miss TOO much. I was able to really make friends, it felt like. Even though I wasn’t and still am not the most socially adept.

And as luck would have it, because picarto chat was and probably still is pretty unstable to this day, it just happened to go down and that led to... the creation of the discord server! It started off small, but steadily got more and more joiners from the growing population of the streams. LovelyLadyArtist, CuteCatDoodles, BrySkye, Flowers-Without-Pots, SilverSlayer, KRS, Donut, Mr.Quarter, Dragoler, Stilla, Chara, RotmModdy, Rowdy, Dunal, and probably at least a few others I’m forgetting... all names I encountered there and most of which I still see daily.

Through that server, we started keeping up even when there wasn’t any stream going on. Just goofing off and having a good ‘ol time. Already I was... well, doing a helluva lot better than I had before. All because of the gathering of a small community surrounding this indie gem. And even further centered in a niche specifically about Flowey! Who, and I’d forgotten to mention this before, I’d found a surprising amount to relate in. He’d become a big, BIG hyperfocus. Which is why I’d met everyone at all. Truly, it’s crazy to think how possible it is for me to have never come down this path.

From there on, I continued to meet new people, established new relationships. I even got invited to an RP server, creatively named “Flower RP” :p. At first I was hesitant, perhaps not even initially 100% interested. But as people really got into it, I felt an incredibly strong Fear of Missing Out. Leading to the creation of a character still near and dear to my heart.... Zorch. The result of contributions from many friends, from design ideas, to character concepts, and even his name(thanks for that, Rowdy). And... I began to write. It wasn’t great at first. very short form, and I didn’t know how to approach the roleplaying mindset, or even how to properly characterize him.

But over time... I got better. I became more confident. I really got into the nitty-gritty of character writing and discussion. I joined in on hours long discussions about the characters, lore, and narrative of Undertale. I’d wake up just to be there as soon as chat began to move, all the way to the point where everyone was finally asleep. I started to be able to help people again. For months, participating in this RP, in this chat, in this community was what I lived for. The joy that I felt in being among friends all working towards and talking about a common goal and interest is, well, honestly still somewhat unrivaled.

Paci, Pots, Neue, Castor, Silver, Nightmare, Rowdy. Me. All of us joined together in mutual love for a game, spurred on to feverishly create our own content about it. I kept up for months on end, living by the mostly same routine for probably the longest I’ve ever stuck to anything. Eventually... things happened and the server’s gone quiet. We had problems with management, people feeling excluded, targeted, etc etc. It was a very... consequence heavy RP, most of us were almost complete newbies to the roleplaying game, and many came to care rather deeply about the ongoings of it. Perhaps too much. But, well... I’m not sure it could have been prevented.

Sometimes, I still wish I could go back to that point of my life. I know someone else who does too. Even more than me. But I know not to try and emulate the past, as alluring as it may seem. So I push forward. Leading to yet another server with its own events. Clement, myself, Rowdy, Zielo, Neue, Moddy, Vee, Mini, Nappy, Tia, Silver. Some familiar names, some new. All still with the foundation of Undertale, but it quickly became a thing for us to just... chill and talk about anything. There was real love in that place. It was at this time that I even started going to therapy! After some struggling with the family. It helped a lot.

In time, that server, too, went under. For reasons that have long since been buried and forgiven. It no longer exists, after being deleted entirely, but I’ll always remember it. And we did eventually all(mostly) gather back together someplace new, which is still being talked in. Even gaining some new additions recently! If any of you guys are catching this one, I love you!

And we come to the final and most recent group. One I wasn’t actually a founding member of, instead being a late joiner. Comparatively smaller than all the ones before, but filled with just as much love. Pip, Ding, Kink, and Cola. Remember when I mentioned happyflowey sowing seeds, and then didn’t even expound in further detail about corruptedflora? Well congratulations, you’ve reached the payoff.

It all started after I began interacting with the mun of CF, Kinko, and became mutuals with them. We usually just spam reblogged from each other on occasion for a while. That is, until I got messaged, then sent a friend request through Discord. Which, even still, didn’t immediately go anywhere. But eventually... some things led to another, and we joined up in a particular server. Not one I’ll be naming, but times were... turbulent in there. It went under and we lost contact a bit after that.

That is, until completely out of the blue, I just get invited to a server with them and some pals to just join in on Roblox shenanigans. Imagine me, sweating and anxious as hell after getting asked to join a server with two people behind blogs I adore, considering Ding was there too. Cardiac arrest, I tell you. And obviously more than just them too! But the night turned out to be so fun that I forgot I’d ever been so anxious in the first place.

From there on... the rest was history. There’s been many, MANY ups and downs, but I’ve found yet more people I love very, very dearly. And they’ve gotten me to open up about the way I feel the most. In the past years, I could never tell someone I loved them, no matter how much I really wanted to. The words just couldn’t come out, but they... they brought that out in me. And now I can say it whenever I want! Like now! I love you guys!!! So much!!!! And not just you all, but everyone else too!!! And much love to Kink especially for being a driving force behind me making this, as well as just being a goddamn star.

So... as a final ovation... LLA, CC, Bry, Drago/Paci, Pots, Silver, Donut, Quarter, Stilla, Chara, Moddy, Rowdy, Neue, Castor/Skater, Tia/Nightmare, Clement, Zielo, Vee, Nappy, Ding, Pip, Cola, and Kink. As well as some stragglers like Log, Ingrid, and Jai. I’m probably still forgetting some... but thank you all for being my friends. It’s been a long, long five years. And yet, many of you are still in my life. In at least some form. There aren’t words enough to express my gratitude towards every single one of you for the most incredible years of my life and pulling me from what can be called nothing less than the fucking abyss. You all made and continue to make life worth living.

And thank you, Undertale. The game behind all of these relationships.  The game that inspired such strong feelings in me when nothing else could. That made me into an artist and writer. The reason I’m still alive. The game that changed my fucking life and will continue to affect me, I believe, for the duration of it. I really cannot overstate just how important you were and still are. There’ll never be anything else like you.

[mcrmadness]

I’m at the point where I’m being really annoyed by mornings again. Or more like, that particular time of the time when I wake up because I know most people would say that 2pm is no longer a morning... Anyway, I just get up every morning to do absolutely nothing just to go to sleep eventually again. And now each “morning” is boring af, I get up, brush my teeth and come to my computer, browse Tumblr and don’t know what to do. For weeks I’ve been watching certain types of videos from YT meanwhile playing with nonograms or jigsaw puzzles online because it helps me to concentrate as I don’t like watching videos of people talking, it’s super boring, but that way I can still listen to them without feeling like losing my mind because of being so bored. But now neither nonograms nor jigsaw puzzles feel thay interesting NOR do the videos I’ve been watching. There’s really not much new stuff, just the same topics done by many many people and I can’t watch that for too long before I get bored with the topics too, because I already know enough. I’ve also been going through all videos on so many different channels and either there’s nothing interesting anymore or I literally have watched everything. So now every day after being done with browsing Tumblr, I try to find something to watch from youtube but currently my recommended page keeps offering me the same videos over and over again, the same topics, and also lots of videos I have already watched. I’d love to see something very random that isn’t particularly linked to my watch history but no, all videos like that are something to do with the goddamned crona hashtags and they’re already driving me crazy because I’m so fed up with all this corona stuff. And I have made several posts about this already and how I hate the superficial fake-happiness in all those videos where people try to come up with stuff for people to do so that they’d just stay at home. I’m staying at home 24/7 even without corona, so can’t you just NOT show those recommendations for me??? Oh I wish Youtube had some sort of tag blacklisting system...

But yeah, apart from all that, I’ve been dealing with my existential crisis a lot lately too. Not that it’d have ever went anyway in the first place, but just having these partly existential crisis, partly dissociation/derealization moments that I don’t know if I’m ever going to get rid of. Just been thinking about my fave band (dä) a lot lately and how stressed out they make me all the time. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I’m not the best with surprises but I’m okay with them, but what REALLY makes (and has always made) me distressed is waiting. Knowing that something is about to happen but you have no idea when and how and possibly what. That is what makes me so distressed. It’s like with ghosts and paranormal things too: I’m not afraid of ghosts and I actually do like them a lot, but I’m afraid of being startled and waiting for something that might come as a surprise to me. (This is why I don’t watch horror films - jumpscares are much worse when I know there will be some.) And I’ve started to hate the weekdays from Monday to Friday because I feel like I can rest only on weekends because maybe those guys won’t do anything during weekends. During other days anything is possible. And now they’re gonna open their webshop on Friday and it’s causing me SO MUCH PRESSURE here. And it’s again not that I’d be worried of what it is, but worried of the fact I am waiting for something now but I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I always need to be in control and ahead of everything, whenever I go to a new place, I need to have a look around the whole thing before I can do anything, and I really wouldn’t like the idea of being dropped right in the middle of action. That just makes me so overwhelmed and I start to panic.

To the existential crisis - I’ve also been wondering about myself and why dä? Imagine if the band was something else but this. And the fact this band is a “once in a lifetime” thing. There’s never been another band like them and never will be. Which is crazy and blows my mind. And this is where I start to dissociate with derealization because I somehow still feel like everything is a movie or a video game. I’m constantly thinking like “oh maybe in my next life I’ll be born earlier so I can become their fan in the 80s” or “maybe in my next life I’ve learnt from my mistakes in this life”. I basically feel like my life is like a video game that I can restart whenever I have played through the story and do different choices then. And some days it hurts so much to be dropped back on ground. But I will just climb up again and escape into my small bubble where things are not like that.

Also this other day I was wondering the age thing again. I’ve been having age crisis at least since I turned 25 because then I was closer to 30 than 20. And I’m turning 29 in less than a month and that had been so terrible thought for so long but now I’m slowly getting used to it. Even tho I still wish I was 19 or something. But at the same time it feels really absurd because I feel like... ten years ago I was 19, and that doesn’t sound that much but I still feel like last year was 2010. And me wishing I was 19 again... well when I was 19, most of my friends were not even teenagers yet. So that means I would not know those people. But then I feel like I’ve been wasting the last 10 years of my life. And if I was smart, I’d realize that I actually have not been wasting those years - I have been working with horses, studying horses, graduated and I’ve grown a pretty good knowledge over what it is to take care of and even train horses. I have got and learnt so much. But still I feel like I should have done that a lot earlier than what I did. But if I did it a lot earlier, then I wouldn’t have had work experience worth over 10 years. Which is why I wish I could have just stopped time for the time I was studying and continue then after I was done. Because I’m literally in the middle of an age crisis because I’m turning 29 but I basically feel like I’m near my end already. It’s like what my friend told me when I was 22 and started having similar thoughts: “You sound like you just discovered what people normally discover only when they turn 50.” Yeah, I’ve literally been having mid-life crisis since I was 22.

For the first time even I experienced some derealization moments was when I was 19 and working at a stable and I was cleaning up the stable and taking out a wheelbarrow full of horse shit. It just suddenly hit me that what I’m doing here, makes absolutely no difference. And I suddenly dived into this horrible state where I felt like nothing I do, matter because nothing will last. Like, why should I create memories if I’m gonna lose them anyway when I die? That really made it so hard to enjoy anything because I was just constantly obsessing with the thought of not having my memories forever and how everything felt so, so damn pointless. I don’t care if people know my name or not, I live for myself anyway so it felt really unfair that I should actually live here and do things and create memories if they are going to be taken away from me eventually just because everyone has to die. And I have always had really bad relationship with death. I remember being probably 7 years old and seeing something on TV about death and cemeteries and it caused me to have one of my earliest anxiety/panic attacks and I was literally sitting on the toilet floor hugging the toilet because the idea of death made me so, so sick. Which is why I then have been avoiding the topic as much as I can and I’ve been blocking those thoughts and stuff and why I love every time death is portrayed as non-permanent in fiction (my all-time favorite is Tim Burton’s Beetlejuice). Or when there’s some sort afterlife. Which is why I’ve been obsessed with ghosts and grim reaper and whatnot in my past. It just comforts me so much because I find it so scary to think that everything would just stop existing. I can kinda imagine that... emptiness that happens when nothing is anymore and it just feels so overwhelming and scary that I nearly start to panic from the thought alone. As a kid, I’ve been having panic attacks from the thought of the sun going out, a meteor hitting the earth, or just pretty much anything that would mean almost instant death. I feel like I probably developed derealization also for this type of fears. If the idea of death has made me physically sick at the age of 7, no wonder why my system decided to come up with dissociation to protect my mind. I always feel like when I keep having these deep thoughts, that my brains are on the edge of overheating (figuratively), it just goes so over my head but at the same time I’m understanding it, which then triggers dissociation because it’s too much to deal with.

I also have a medical trauma from when I was 3 years old, which is probably the core for all the dissociation too. It was an open heart surgery which pretty much means being half-dead already as you’re connected to the machines that keep up your breathing and blood circulation while the doctors fix your heart. Because of that, I find the thought it anesthesia highly disturbing. I know people undergo surgeries all the time for whatever reasons but I feel like I could never ever do one again because I’m so afraid of that emptiness becoming permanent. I can’t remember a thing from my surgery nor how I went to sleep or anything like that, but as an adult, I just find that so scary and I’m always really scared whenever I know people who are going to have anesthesia because what if they don’t come back? I know trans people who don’t have other option but to undergo some surgeries and I’m like... I’m nonbinary afab and I’d be happy to donate my own boobs away any minute but I could never ever go to a surgery from my own will. I rather just fantasize of a bodyshape that I don’t have than would actually do something about it because for me that would just not be an option. I sometimes wonder that if I had dysphoria or if I was trans, would I still feel the need for surgeries? Or what if I have dysphoria but I just don’t see it, because I can’t do anything about it so I just escape into my inner world and try not to think about myself? I do have some sort of body dysMORPHIA, tho. But I don’t know if I hate my body or if I just see it wrongly. But whatever the case, I try not to think about it too much, I avoid mirrors and spend most of time in my inner world. Because the outter world is too overwhelming and depressing to deal with and my existential crisis can’t take it.

[thewaitinggamesblog]

Lets talk about 365DNI

So, I will preface by saying this a rant and a semi review, mostly a rant.

Also if you haven't watched it !SPOILERS!

Also, if you’re under the age of 18, or are uncomfortable with taking about sexual things, this is your opportunity to bump off, and don’t watch the movie. 

Also an extra warning because i'll be talking about lack of consent in this movie and yeah!

This is my warning.

 So, Let’s Talk about the main characters. We have Laura Biel, who is the movies protagonist. She is a victim of kidnapping and the “source” of Massimo Torricelli’s, the love interest and movies antagonist, affection. Laura, at the beginning of the movie, is made to seem like she has a loveless relationship and a job she absolutely hates, and in my opinion, sets up the frame that getting kidnapped by handsome mob man is a blessing, which some might argue in her case it was.Laura is immediately put in a terrible situation, she is uprooted from her friends, and taken to a place where 1)she knows absolutely no one and has to fend for herself and 2) she’s manipulated, from before she even gets kidnapped to time she “surrenders”. She’s fed this idea that she could leave the life she has behind to be on trial basis with a man who she doesn’t know, so that he can live out his fantasy of being in a relationship with her, which she does not fall for. 

The movie spends so much time trying to put Laura in a box and make her conform to these rules and lifestyle that she didn’t agree to. Often times, when she is trying to liberate herself from these rules, and shit hits the fan, she is blamed for “acting out.” Thats victim blaming, and Its not her fault, she’s been kidnapped and thrown into situations that she didn’t ask for. And while yes, it's made clear in the movie that there are worse people who could have kidnapped her, it's still not an ideal situation for her. 

Despite all of the turmoil she’s put through, ill say that Laura is not a weak character, She’s not silent, she stands up to Massimo to the best of her ability, but he controls all the pieces on the board, and she has no control over anything in her life other than ability to say no to him and that doesn’t even necessarily work sometimes. 

An example of Massimo's extreme power control: At one point in the movie she attempts to run away from Massimo but she cant even get out of the city that they’re in because Massimo and his family have the city on their payroll, and everyone is so scared of him,  running away for her becomes futile, because it will never work. She has to become complacent to survive. 

Massimo Torricelli is our main antagonist and a major asshole, and not an asshole with a soft heart for Laura, he’s just a pure asshole. Its a common theme throughout the movie. The movie makes attempts to soften Massimo’s personality by trying to make him this guy with good morals, but despite having good morals and a traumatic backstory, you cant avoid the facts the he 1) drugged and kidnapped her and 2) he treated her poorly, up until she finally gave into him.

Now if you’ve seen the movie you may or may not agree with my any statements that I have said and thats fine, but we cant avoid the fact that Massimo is a smart person, he understands how to play the long game in this situation. By allowing her to have access to the things that she asked for (only after she begged for them) he is manipulating and finding ways to gain her trust. He’s not dumb he knows what he’s doing. Its like I said earlier, he controls all the pieces on the board, he knows what to do in order to win the game and he, in my opinion, would hold out for as long as it took to make her fall in “love” with him. 

Lets talk about the plot. Laura is kidnapped on her birthday while she’s on vacation with her boyfriend and friends, by Mafia Boss Massimo, who has had an obsession with her for over five years and has on a whim, after one coincidental citing, devised a plan to make her and make her fall in love with him. The plan is is that he is giving her 365 days to fall for him and if she hasn’t fell for him by her next birthday, then he will let her go. Thats the plot. 

Now you might ask, why am i I reiterating this again and again and again? Why are we talking about this? Why is this important?Well, the definition of Stockholm Syndrome as defined by Merriam Webster is: the psychological tendency of a hostage to bond with, identify with, or sympathize with his or her captor.

I have a very hard time believing as an audience member that Laura,  without this certain set circumstances, would fall in love with Massimo, mostly because, he’s an asshole. Not because of his profession. Massimo in addition to being an asshole also disregards and disrespects Laura’s boundaries and often engages in sexual acts with her without her consent. 

I as an audience member also have a hard time in believing that Massimo actually loves Laura. Throughout the movie its clear and stated the Massimo is a man who gets what he wants, he doesn’t chase after anything or anyone, Laura being the five year infatuation has peaked his interest, and the idea of finding her and being with her has floated around in his head for too long. I as an audience member, question would he still have interest in her if she caved in and gave into him from the very start. This would turn out to be a completely different movie.

 This whole movie, is forwarded by the chase of her resisting him and he having to “compromise” his sense of self and security to be with her. (FYI:it's not a true compromise if one person still controls most of the pieces on the board by the end of the movie.) Yes, Laura turned his life upside down in some ways, but he also knew the potential risk he took when decided to go forward with his plan. 

In my opinion, I think Massimo might care for her, but it's in a way that a child cares for a toy, or someone might care for a gun, a very much, you cant touch that, thats my property attitude. One of the biggest examples of this is Massimo’s  “Babygirl.” This was a pet-name picked for Laura by Massimo before he even got to know her as a person. Every instance we see him interacting with her “Are you lost Babygirl?” is an example of him claiming some kind of ownership over her, prelude to what he can and eventually does, take her to be his own. 

In the movie, Massimo, in my opinion, makes little to no attempts to get to know her as a person, they have no genuine interaction other than one scene that isn’t overtly sexual. Everything else in the movie relies on unhealthy sexual chemistry created to tell you that Massimo's plan is “working.” 

Up until the time she give into him there are so many nonconsensual acts of sex, as an audience member, it was concerning. Often these acts would come after he said he was not going to push her boundaries. (FYI: cuffing someone to a bed and making them watch another woman give you a blowjob, without consent  is crossing a boundary) and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

 So, let's briefly talk about Laura’s situation. She is trapped, and she has no one to trust. Massimo's men are loyal to him and not her. She cant tell them anything for fear of one of them telling Massimo, everything that she thinks, and feels she has to keep hidden, because its not safe for her, therefore she has to make nice with her captor or else, prompting some of the compromises on Lauras part in the movie. This is why I say their relationship is not a true compromise, Laura ends up compromising so much of herself by the end of the movie and Massimo in my opinion continues to live the same life that he’s used to living. point blank. 

Lets talk about the turning point in the movie. AKA, when Laura first accepts Massimo. The acceptance happens when Massimo saves her from drowning after she goes overboard on his boat when they were arguing. Now how did we get to this point? For me, its understanding how the odds were stacked up immeasurably against her throughout the movie.

Here’s a few that stuck out to me:

1) Laura still had a considerable amount of time to be left in Massimo’s presence, I believe in the movie she had only been with him for two months. 

 2) Massimo killed a member of another mafia family, making everyones lives more complicated, and she finally comes to the realization that despite her rebellion, Massimo isn’t letting go of her anytime soon.

3) Massimo's right hand man/ Uncle was telling Massimo to cut his losses with Laura, so where does that leave her? Now that she’s been involved with all of this (against her will), will she still be a target? 

4) Laura becomes a target to hurt Massimo, literally just by being with him as later shown by Massimo's jealous ex Anna, Laura will need his protection, whether she wants or not. 

5) Laura was blamed, by Massimo and others,  for the repercussions of what had happened the night before, which is why they were arguing, she cant defend herself when everyone is pointing the finger at her.

6) Massimo made himself the “Savior” by both risking and saving her life twice in less than 24 hours. 

 You might ask how did he risk her life the first time? Well, he took her to a club with questionable people and asked her to behave by rules that she did not agree to and when she was in trouble, because she has absolutely no idea who she’s dealing with,  he comes in and saves her from said questionable people that she did not want to be around in the first place. 

When Massimo saves her the second time, the movie, in my opinion, makes it out for Laura to be grateful that she is alive. Massimo could have just let her drown but he didn't, he was a good human being in that instant, and I guess that plus everything else she’s been through makes accepting him easier, because he saved her life, he must really love her right?right?  This my attempt at rationalizing and digesting what had happened leading up to her affections for him. To me,  she goes from absolutely hating him to showing him affection overnight, and there was no romantic build up of tension that would have prompted her to have sex with him. From my perspective, the tension went away when she went overboard on the boat. 

Finally, when she consents to him they have lots of sex. Like lots and thats a prelude to her getting pregnant. (you know how I knew instantly that she was getting pregnant, because not a single thought of a rubber or birth control was given throughout the entire script.) be safe. use protection people! 

Anyways, towards the end of the movie, Massimo sends her off to Poland, to be safe, while he does some really sketchy mafia things to whom we can assume is either his ex, who threatened to Kill Laura or the mafia family he has drama with now. She’s supposed to wait in Poland for him to finish whatever sketchy thing he’s doing, and yes, we know its sketchy because before her flight, Laura’s henchman that has been with her for the whole movie has to leave and strictly instructs her to wait in Poland, and thats what she does. Massimo sets her up with an apartment and expenses and she’s supposed to wait for him to i guess meet up with her. While in Poland, Laura visits her friend, Olga, who we can only assume she has had no contact with over the past couple of weeks. 

What makes this movie so unrealistic, in my opinion,  is the lack of realistic reactions to situations which should be taken more seriously. Lauras friend is pissed for all of five seconds, and she’s confused when Laura tells her what really happened to her, and her solution to all of it was lets go out and and get make overs and go clubbing and get your mind off of everything, which yes, is helpful to some, but also….. If I showed up randomly on my friends doorstep with the same tea Laura had to spill, my friends would do alot more than go out for makeovers and go clubbing, they’d probably call the cops, or my parents, or both, regardless of Massimo’s influence.

So, they end up going out and she runs into her ex at the club, which is already questionable as to how he even knew she was there? Like did the best friend call him? Anyways he’s determined to plead his case to her and literally follows her all night long even all the way to her apartment where Massimo is waiting for her to get home. Once her ex sees Massimo, he stands down, and skip to the next important part because it’s all just sex. 

So Laura tells Massimo that she loves him and the next morning he asks her to marry him. Which prompts me to ask what would he have done if she said no?? Like honestly, would he have just let her say no or would he force her to say yes?

So……there’s a fashion montage to show that they’re like happy and in love and then they’re at a wedding with her family, who I think is her cousin and Massimo meets her family and he parents are just chill with the fact that after being gone for months that she all of a sudden has a new man in her life.....I’m just going to assume that she’s been in constant contact with her parents because some of that doesn’t make sense to me. I know that she called her mother when Massimo gave her her phone back, but thats the only time in the movie that I can remember her contacting her family. 

So finally, let’s talk about the ending, and im not going to spoil it because, i don’t want to. So, the ending was the ending and that’s all I’m going to say about that. Im not going to spoil the ending because if you end up watching the film or take any context clues from what I've written, you will know that they don’t end up getting married! (oops… never said why they didn’t). I will say, the ending felt very rushed. It was all happening very fast. I believe from time that he proposed to her till the ending of the movie, they packed in weeks worth of story telling in fifteen to twenty minutes, and there were plenty of gaps, that I feel like, if they were filled, they would have made the ending of the movie make more sense.

So, on a lighter not, I want to talk about a very brief similarity in another movie that could technically be considered of the same plot. That movie is Beauty and the Beast. When I was watching this movie, Beauty and the Beast, was always in the back of my head, when i finished watching 365DNI, I compared the two movies.  The stories are similar in the generalized sense,  both men are beast who rely on women to humanize them, but are doing it under personalized circumstances in a certain amount of time. Just like the Beast, Massimo had a deadline he had to meet, Also Belle was a prisoner, her entire experience at the castle and in the Beast company was to make her fall in love with him. 

In conclusion, Id give this movie a solid 5/10, because even though I don’t agree with the basis of the story, its fiction, and in my opinion, its okay to enjoy fantasized fiction, just as long as you’re not taking your fantasy out into the real world. I know its just a movie and I probably shouldn’t have gone this hard on it, but I just had thoughts. (These are my own thoughts and opinions on the movie, I'm not a professional critic, by any means,  I just wanted to talk about it. If you have opinions on the movie, or if you’ve got any advice on how to write a personal review, let's talk! cause I definitely want to do more of these!)

-justbeinghonest