#on my old taylor blog it was a big issue and i’m just not about that negativity in my life so i blacklist and mentally prepare myself before

[robertsbarbie]

why do you have folklore and evermore blacklisted?

because i’m a hater

[the1975attheirverybest]

I think you have a right not to like Taylor but I think l people are coming into your ask box because of the way you went about it? A lot of people care about her. To claim she only does things preformatively for money is a very big thing to claim when you don’t know her or her intentions.

She’s not talking about Palestine or roe v wade because right now there are people that want to kill her. If she says something in either direction, especially about Palestine she would be in danger. In her lover era when she talked more about stuff she wasn’t in such a spotlight like she is now. She has to have snipers at every show she plays at. She can’t just simply talk about things anymore because it puts her and her family in danger.

I’m not saying all that you’ve said is wrong. Yes she’s a capitalist and she wants to make money. I don’t know who was mainly behind the choice to have so many midnights variations, but I know it wasn’t her choice alone. And with all that being said though, she’s not forcing people to buy the records at crazy prices. People don’t have to buy the stuff. I’m a big Taylor fan, I’ve literally only bought one thing from her store ever.

And finally about the person of the year thing as a whole. She was chosen in September to be in the shortlist. Before the Israel Palestine war started. It’s not about her being the best person in the world, it’s about how much of an influence she’s had this year. And you can’t disagree with that. I cannot think of another person this year who has been more influential than her.

I don’t want to come across as hateful to you because everyone is entitled to their opinion I just think a lot of what your saying is more out of anger at the current moment than the actual circumstances at hand. I just don’t think Taylor is deserving of being ridiculed in such a way when there are so many other people in the industry who are horrible and get no backlash

I understand and respect where you’re coming from. But yeah I recognize how big a claim that is and I’m ready to stand by it because she has proven it time and time again, every time that I believed her, it turns out to be lip service. So I’m pretty certain of my assessment with respect to her outspokenness/ care / “activism”

As for the way I went about it, yeah admittedly, if someone had said the same thing about Matty, I wouldn’t have gone into their ask but I probably would’ve made a passive aggressive post about it on here being like “these people just don’t get it ugh.” Lmao. But at the end of the day I use my blog to express myself the way that I think. And that’s my thought when the whole NFL shit is going down, and her friendship is seen as support of sexual assault apologists etc and people are like “stats show she has a higher approval rating than all politicians” meanwhile she’s silent on Palestine, the way that she has been on other issues, but wants to use this moment in the spotlight to talk about that old stuff, yeah I’m gonna be like WTFFFF UGHHHH.

[davidmann95]

Comics this week (9/29/2021)?

Anonymous asked: This week's comics?

Inferno #1: So Hickman's making his last story before he leaves the X-Books because the plan no longer has space for him about hubristic scheming overseers with grand visions being righteously overthrown by the younger rabble, huh? You can't fault the man for self-awareness.

S.W.O.R.D. #8: With these last two issues, yeah, I think I'm finally starting to get what the hubub's been about all these years with Storm.

The Marvels #5: Fine, again I'm just getting this for dad.

I Am Not Starfire: My store finally got it! Even though it's pretty much the Very Solid YA I expected, mostly knowing of it via that weird moment it was a minor flashpoint makes it weird that that's 'all' it is.

Justice League #68: Fair's fair: nothing in the solicit for this issue was technically a lie. What we got however was either a bizarrely extended gag - which is definitely possible - or a winking self-admission on Bendis's part that he won't be doing anything new or interesting with the book. So sorry Ram V, I'm liking the Justice League Dark backup but not enough to keep up with this any longer.

Wonder Woman: Black and Gold #4: 5 perfectly nice stories here; not much else to say.

Superman '78 #2: Definitely enjoyed this more than the first issue, giving Torres more room to flex and blending in a nice little touch of Bronze Age Superman sensibilities.

Action Comics #1035: Hilarious this doesn't make even a cursory effort to line up with how Authority or Son of Kal-El portray what goes down here, but this is a really really good issue so I'm more than willing to let that slide. Damn though, I know I was pretty much the only one who liked Superman of Metropolis alright but I guess that was a fluke with Lewis, because these Tales of Metropolis backups continue to stink.

Superman: Son of Kal-El #3: And Taylor flip-flops back onto his better side. The showcase second page for Timms isn't nearly as neat as it wants to be - there's no flow to speak of when that'd do so much to put it over - but it's still a very nice book to look at and this sells a gaggle of Big Moments incredibly well.

Batman/Superman #22: This however is exactly as neat as it wants to be. Yang better be getting the assignment of his goddamn life to be leaving this behind.

Legends of the Dark Knight #5: Mostly uninterested in this incarnation of the book, but knew I'd pick up the Brandon Thomas issue and I was far from disappointed.

Batman: Reptilian #4: What a gross, mean-spirited, distasteful, thoroughly enjoyable read this continues to be. And almost doubled over cackling when Ennis did the most Ennis possible thing and made clear the entire impetus for the project was (rot13) ernqvat gur jvxv ragevrf sbe 'Ongzna Ebthrf Tnyyrel' naq nfxvat uvzfrys "bxnl, juvpu bs gurfr shpxref pna V gvr ng yrnfg n YVGGYR ovg vagb Ivrganz". And this is probably Sharp's best showcase issue yet, with how much he manages to show off in what's in theory 22 pages of almost pure conversation.

Echolands #2: JH Williams III continues to produce, this is all that matters, for this book and arguably culture as a whole.

Crossover #8: This is getting gratingly barely-tolerable, as opposed to the deranged joyride of balls out offensive nerd-glurge it came roaring out of the gate as.

The Good Asian #5: I'll have to sit down with the book once it's done given how much this recontextualizes; another fine issue.

Adventureman #5: The text piece at the back makes something of a case for why this wasn't the last issue of the first trade and before the hiatus, but for god's sake, it so clearly should have been. Still a ton of fun though.

The Department of Truth #13: And on the exact opposite end of 'what if all those old stories were true(ish)', of course this is still as good as it gets.

DIE #20: I don't know how one could discuss this without discussing the entire series and everything surrounding it - which I may well do, though not on this blog I don't think, something more expansive - but I don't think there's ever been a book before* where I was able to say with certainty, long before the last issue dropped, "I'm going to get the coffee table edition of this too". Almost surely my favorite work from Gillen even among others seemingly so much more tailor-made to my interests, Hans needs to be chained to a desk and kept on an IV drip and trained on that Uberman sleep schedule so as to never stop producing sequential art, and possibly my favorite book of the last several years with all said and done.

(*Aside from Multiversity, though that's an Absolute edition - finally happening! - rather than coffee table.)

[spade-riddles]

"Adjusting Expectations" Post

This submission received a lot of responses and 120 notes, so I thought I would compile the comments here.

Anonymous said:

Adjusting expectations anon was so good. If their timetables are right and we do just need to be patient a little longer, can Kaylor please send us a sign? I guess it would be too loud to slip "adjusting expectations" into social media posts, but maybe they could both do something with playing cards? To show they are card sharks right now but they'll find their way home eventually? That would reassure people. And it would fly under the radar.

casuallycruel131313 said:

I agree with a lot of this but I think the main issue right now is that moral and ethical lines have been crossed and there's no coming back from that. In these post-Trumpian insurrectionist times it's unfathomable that they could continue the Kushner narrative I no longer care if or when they come out, I enjoy the music and I'm happy to observe from a distance because I'm interested from a PR/marketing point of view but my opinion of T &K as people has changed irrevocably and I don't see how they can clean the tarnish off.

@theprologues said:

Agree with most of not all if this but I would like to say as a Kaylor the toe Grammy stunt didn’t phase me. I was not crushed by that by any means. I just shrugged and honestly expected it. It was the attributing Betty and exile to him during the LPSS in November that bummed me out and really made me go...really?

rockcrow20 said:

Have to say I also agree with most of this.

I no longer have any expectations on anything changing any time soon and have not been surprised by the recent events its to be expected after everything over the years really

Nothing has really changed (bearding narrative wise) since I fell down the rabbit hole in 2017 (except that great night in nashville 2018 rep)

Honestly I can't say I am as invested anymore about them ever coming out as I was.

I think the wb/Joe thing was the last moment for me and the continual kushner connection just troubles me like many others.

I mean my kaylor motto for awhile now has been hope for the best but expect disappointment.

Low expectations = limited feelings of disappointment.

original-cypher said:

@rockcrow20 the WB was a breaking point for so many. You are absolutely right. There are just so ma'y contradictions that feel like absolute whiplash. (I know I seem to have been the only one experiencing that with Gorgeous but... that was a big one for me, too) But like. You go on a whole PR campaign about speaking up and standing up for yourself. You say you're capable and tired of men trying to take ownership of your success and profit off of your name. And you credit you literal damn work to a bloke? Bitch, 'consistency'? Look it up. It grossed me out. It would have felt iffy if I believed they were real. But since I wasn't born yesterday it just sent me the message "this is how far I'm willing to sacrifice my principles to not be queer".

rockcrow20 said:

@original-cypher exactly why it bothered me and I know alot us so much. Such mixed messaging of being a strong fighting for your rights female and then oh hey let me attribute some of my best work to my pr boyfriend and the pr pics where she is walking behind all the time like 🙄 The Betty thing that was big one for me too!

rainbowdaisy13 said:

This write up and the comments are spot on. I don’t have much to add other than like @original-cypher said, Miss Americana is tainted for me now and seems like at the very least, it was released too soon in the plan. I get we think they have had to pivot but man, that doc, and including her literally saying “gay rights make me me” at the end was such a false flag. To see her wax poetic about not taking shit from men anymore and then see her do the same old hetero weak woman song and dance routine with the WB shit for albums that are of her genius mind has been so disappointing. I still believe Kaylor is real and I hope they get a chance to show the world that. Karlie posting that cardigan pic in the woods before the folklore release cemented for me they are still together. Adding a baby makes me feel all kind of weird ethical things but I hope I live long enough to see it play out and wear my I Told You So shirt 😁

@kellykaylor said:

agree with your post... I dont care about toe stunts but what really pissed me of was hetwashing betty 🤮! beautiful post tho anon!!

roameroo said:

Totally agree with these all comments especially the strong messaging of MA only to turn around & pull that WB = my "bf" crap. I was disheartened by her mentioning him at the Grammy's only bc he's getting credit for sh*t he doesn't/didn't do. That is what irks me the most about this, giving him credit for her life's work.

always-the-last-word said:

Can I throw my pennies in the pool ?? Taylor will put out the big three first Fearless, RED then 1989 that should bring us to about August. This is where the excitement should begin. If Taylor preps and waits for National Coming Out day it's a no lose for her. Lover her money making machine will go through the roof !! If things go bad or good in the public eye she'll have REPUTATION Taylor's Version ready to release. It will be epic and she'll own it and be FREE.

@karlie-what-you-want said:

always-the-last-word I like this take a lot! I try not to be too optimistic but if she wanted to come out sooner rather than later, I think this plan would satisfy both business and PR needs (at least on Taylor’s end). Remains to be seen how Tay will help Karlie dig her way out of the mess they made together regarding the K*shners.

always-the-last-word said:

Always remember that Taylor has a PLAN. Some of her plans are year's old (easter eggs). Taylor's one and only LOVE is her music, everything else comes second. If KK wants to change and be with her full time she'll make moves around the same time frame. That's if she chooses to. In any event Tay will be open and own all her music. I've seen this film before and WE might not like the ending.

chosetherose said:

I’ve been going back and forth for a day trying to figure out what I wanted to say when I reblogged this post. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I understand I’m owed nothing by Taylor or Karlie. I understand that circumstances out of their control have caused the girls to pivot over and over again.

But, the root of my frustration in the past months stems not from me battling with the trivial (e.g. pap walks, etc.) but with my personal principles. I fiercely believe credit should be given where it is earned and I uphold this in my career regularly. To see Taylor crediting Toe with her art was deeply disappointing. Watch the 1989 and folklore acceptance speeches back to back and tell me it doesn’t upset you. I believe the K******s have blood on their hands and that their actions during the pandemic have killed people. To see Karlie still associating with one of them disgusts me.

I can’t help but think back in frustration - Would you really fall from grace to touch her face? (And in the brilliant words of @9w1ft) But would you die for her in public? I go back and forth feeling like questions like this aren’t fair at all and thinking they are sort of valid. At this point, it sort of feels like Taylor would only fall from grace for her lover if all the stars and facets of her life aligned perfectly. But perfection like this does not happen. Such is life. So why am I here?

I do question why Spade left certain messages in their final days. I am still holding hope a fervent revolution exonerates everyone. I so desperately want Taylor to regain control of her masters or re-records. Maybe this is the plan they thought was best with multiple goals in mind (re-records, having a family, coming out of the closet one day etc). I’m trying to remain patient because Spade told us to trust her endless yearning. But WOW it is asking a lot of us at this point.

Anonymous said:

Despite being a pragmatist kaylor and oftentimes getting into arguments with fellow optimistic kaylors (owner of this blog included) I think it's quite unfair -at this point- to say to the optimists who have patiently sat through the worst kind of stunts with the most terrible kind of people (yes I'm talking about the Kushner's friend group too) that they should have seen it coming. Besides, if it weren't for the optimists we the cynicals would have burned this fandom down by now.

Anonymous said:

Even if we ignore that an insurrection happened partially because of the family karlie's still working for and getting paid from, she literally said before the pregnancy debacle unfolded that j*sh was her last client while talking about cutting hair and doing a cutting gesture. How should we have interpreted that? 😤That a year later she would be more stuck with the Kushners than ever? We don't wake up on day and decide to have unrealistic expectations. She feeds into them. 😠

Anonymous said:

I have no expectation of Taylor coming out anymore. Zero. None. I have no expectation of her dropping Toe or even of Kaylor publicly reuniting. It doesn't even matter that much anymore. But I - do - expect 1 thing. Karlie to drop and completely dissociate herself from the Kushners and this has nothing to do with kaylor. It was everything to do with me being unable to support a person who willfully assists (now using her baby too) and receives money from a family that has made so many suffer.

Anonymous said:

A quick word from an ex-kaylor (who will never become an anti). A year ago, when the Trumps were still in power and untouchable and there was no baby, I was excusing and turning a blind eye to many things Karlie did for the K*shners. Even that dinner in September. I had also made peace with the truth never being revealed. But a year later the Trumps are gone, Karlie is still on full stunting mode now with a baby in the mix, a baby that is already being used by the Kushners, and I've really run out of excuses. Now the only thing that could possibly keep me on board is if I knew there was a good chance that the full truth would come out, so that Karlie's inexplicable and honestly borderline immoral actions could eventually make sense. But as your sub said, this is an unrealistic expectation, thus I became an ex-kaylor and I'm not planning to come back even when they reunite. 😕

Anonymous said:

What baffles me is that Taylor has explicitly expressed her regret about not giving her lover the credit she deserves and her doubt whether fame is worth hiding her true love: "when I walked up to the podium, I think I forgot to say your name", "what's a lifetime of achievement, if I pushed you to the edge". But yet again she didn't do anything to change this. I didn't expect her to acknowledge Karlie, but a nod or at least not falsely crediting her beard would be a good start.

Anonymous said:

1🙁 Let me chime in re: "expectations". I'm one of the kaylors who ever since the pregnancy reveal was trying to tell everyone there's NO way she was gonna dump him soon after birth let alone before that. It would bring too much unnecessary attention and Jerk would have never agreed to something that would make him look like a bad guy/husband. For the exact same reasons, I was also saying there's no way he wasn't going to post about the baby. All the above against the popular opinion back then.

2🙁 So I agree that the day of the birth post was known to T, not the timing though. Simply bc Kushner-leaning outlets made sure to note that detail. If they wanted it to go unnoticed, why draw attention to it? That being said, kaylors would have been more patient with this mess, if Karlie hadn't gone overboard with her freedom "smoke signals" last summer and Tay's "insiders" hadn't been insinuating that the end is VERY near. Both of them SHOULD have known by then how we would react to these.

3🙁 So it's natural that everyone feels played and has no patience for any more bullshit. Another sore point is how Jerk AND the Kushner-Trump klan monopolize the baby news. This isn't just to make it realistic, it's an abuse of Kaylor's baby's name to garner good pr for the worst family in America, with Karlie's blessing. In order for her marriage and split to appear realistic she's putting a LIFETIME burden on her child's back. Unless you believe she's eventually gonna say Jerk isn't the dad.

4🙁 So "we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming". But we did see it coming, that why some made these extreme scenarios, bc this is the worst possible outcome. "Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships." Ultimately this isn't just a "bad rs". It's a horrific association that should have been resolved ages ago, not one to bring your child into, doom it to suffer a similar fate, and expect people to sit idly and watch. That's what frustrates most.

[popculturebuffet]

House of Mouse: The Stolen Cartoons Review (Patreon Review)

Hello all you happy people! It’s Patreon Review Time. Since my 5 dollar or higherr patreons get 1 review a month, Kevin my 10 dollar patreon is using one of his to celebrate the 20th anniversary of House of Mouse by having me review a random episode a month. And for this month we’re going all the way back to the start with The Stolen Cartoons!

I already introed house of mouse back when I reviewed “The Three Cablleros” episode but for a refresher: House of Mouse is a 2001 cartoon about Mickey and Co running a club. Mickey is host, Minnie plans the show and runs the books, Donald tends to the VIP”s and co owns the club with Mickey, Goofy is head waiter,  Daisy runs guest services, Horace is technical support, Clarabelle is a gossip monger with no clear actual job, and Max is Valet. The show was used to repackage shorts from the short lived show Mickey mouseworks, using the club setting as a wraparound and said club was attentend by all the various characters from the disney canon. It’s as awesome as it sounds. 

The voice cast, which I didn’t intro thorughly last time, was equally awesome with all the actors for the characters at the time, all legends in the industry. Wayne Allwine as Mickey,who played the character from the late 70′s to his death, Russi Taylor as Minnie and the Triplets, who did the same and was also married to wayne, Tony Anselmo, who should be thorughly familiar to readers of this blog and donald duck fans as his voice since Ducktales, Voice Actress Tress Macneile as Daisy, likewise,  Jason Marsden as Max and Voice Acting Legend Jim Cummings as Pete. All except Allweine i’ve profieled before on this blog in various other series, but Wayne, outisde of a very minor role in black cauldron, only voiced Mickey, and to me is the defntiive voice for the guy, though Chris is getting close. 

The other notable members of the cast i havent’ covered are April Winchell, who while tremendous, I will save for an episode Clarabelle is actually in more, and Bill Farmer. I have a great amount of Love for Bill and like everyone here, he was a vertran of the industry by the time he showed up in this series. His defining roll far and away is goofy, who was, to my delighted surprise his FIRST voice audition, having studided PInto Colving’s voice well to the point you can barely tell the difference between the two, and having inherited the roll around the same time as Russi and Tony. He’s the voice of Goofy I and most kids from the 80′s onward have grown up with and is the best at the roll by far, having chances for depth and nuance Pinto wasn’t allowed with the Goofy Movies and other works. IN general he’s just THE goofy to me. He’s also the voice of horace and pluto, and currently voices Hop Pop in Amphibia which is super noteworthy as looking at his filmography like a lot of the sensational 6′s va’s he’s only voiced goofy or Pluto for most of his career. But hey like Tony, if you only do one charcter might as well be the fucking best at it. He also has a show on Disney Plus with him and dogs I need to watch yesterday. 

So with our cast out of the way, and not much history to go into, join me after the cut and we’ll see how House of Mouse got it’s start and if it was a good one. 

Breaking from my usual format for House of Mouse and doing the shorts as they come up int he main story for two reasons: The first is that the shorts are integral to the plot and the second is that there’s way more main story this time around than usual, likely to properly set things up. 

So we open at the House of Mouse with Mickey Adressing the club and showing off the general premise of this being a club for all of the various heroes and villains of disney to hang out and what not. He also presents the house rules which are no smoking (Fair and should’ve always been a thing), no villianous schemes and no eating the other guests, all helpfully demonstrated as he says them. We also get to see the others in action: Minnie handling the schedule and the crew, Donald welcoming the guests, and Daisy running the desk and getitng brainwashed by Jafar into giving him a table. Max also is providing his job as Valet which surprised me because I genuinely thought he didn’t join the cast till season 2.. despite the fact he’s right there in the credits.. which are the same for ALL THREE SEASONS. 

So things are going well.. so naturally that’s when Pete shows up to try and ruin things. Look he’s having a hard time after the divorce.. several years ago. Okay maybe he’s always just been a dick and that’s why he’s divorced in the first place. Point is he naturally wants to shut the club down, boot them out, and wreck up the place like any natural cartoon villian or real estate scum bag landlord. Pete just happens to be both because he can multitask. .and because it’s basically the same thing you just have to be animated for one of them.  Thankfully whoever the previous Landlord was, i’m going with Shere Kahn given the setting, his roll in tailspin and the fact the obvious candidate, scrooge, would make no sense here given a later episode where he guest stars, wrote into the contract that as long as the show goes on, they can stay in business. Pete stews over this and naturally plans to stop the show while Minnie, in a cute bit, comforts a nervous mickey and just tells him to play some cartoons. So...

Pluto Gets the Paper: Wet Cement and Donald’s Dynamite: Magic Act I”m covering both of these at once. But as I said the animated shorts this time are one big sized one and two of the shorter ones to make more room for the story. Which is fair: this is the first episode, and thus needs to set up the premise. The series isn’t story driven but your first episode should still feel like one, ease you into the world and get you situated and THEN can do the normal format. It’s also in the episode’s favor as the heavier story focus meant a BETTER story than most season 1 episodes, on par with the two season 3 episodes i’ve covered so far. 

The shorts themselves are fine. So far this is the only Pluto Short i’ve liked as it has a neat enough gaga: Pluto has to get the paper in wet cement. Why did the paperboy throw it in wet cement instead of in the driveway, I dunno but given this short is well.. short and just meant to deliver on some quick gags, I’m not going to question it. It’s the first Pluto short i’ve covered without any dog sexual harassment, i’m not looking a gift dog in the mouth. 

The other short short played right after is part of a series where Donald ends up trying to get rid of a round bomb that shows up wherever he is....

It’s pretty damn funny, though being a huge Donald fan i’m obviously biased, but even removing my donald duck brand sunglasses, I will concede this was objectively fun.

But the cartoons stop as, true to the title, they’ve gone missing! Horace is found tied up, the cartoons are gone and Pete is obviously responsible. and hilariously so as the rope has his name on it and he says “I don’t know horace horsecollar” There are a LOT of good gags in this one, i’m leaving a lot out for time’s sake. 

So Mickey and Minnie come up with a plan: Mickey sends the.. Quackstreet Boys.... to stall. Now it may shock you but I actually LIKE the backstreet boys. Not to an extreme amount but I did grow up with them, and even now find their music pretty damn good. No my issue is this parody is weak, mostly running entirely on the title pun. The most I can give them credit for is using the outfits from their second album cover. No I wasn’t kidding I did grow up with them. You saw that everywhere so even if I didn’t enjoy their music then and now, i’d know it. But it just feels really weak, like they had no idea what to DO with the boys and instead just slapped them in a lame parody. It dosen’t help i’m not a fan of the classic version of the boys outside of the comics, as I feel later productions should’ve had them actually be distinct, and it took until 2017 to pull that off with the reboot, something I fear may be undone in future productions. Please.. don’t.. you can have Cristina Vee voice them all, I don’t care about the voice I just want to be able to tell them a apart. So yeah I don’t like it but it dosen’t drag the episode down. Just something I wanted to have a moan about. 

So they split up: Mickey, Minnie and Goofy go to shoot a cartoon while Donald runs the club. Naturally he rebrands.. but what really is telling is everyone boos him when he tries to mc.. just for not being Mickey. While Donald does have a massive inferiority complex here, desperately wanting to one up mickey.. with moments like this it’s hard not to see why> He’s JUST as big a star, just as talented , maybe not as nice but just as likeable. He even co-owns the club. But ironically only Mickey Himself, and Daisy of Course, treat him like an equal. To everyone else it’s Mickey’s world and he’s just the sidekick. It’s no wonder he spend sthe entire show desperately trying to outdo mickey: he doesn’t hate the guy, even if he wouldn’t admit it.. but he just wants to be loved too. Sure it’s part ego.

Mickey does return though with the new cartoon. And our only sizeable one so. 

Hickory Dickory Mickey: This is a REALLY good one with a simple enough premise; Goofy wants Mickey to take him to the airport at 6am tomorrow.. which Mickey balks at. 

Seriously i’ve woken up at 3-4am to go to the airport or on road trips. Waking up at 5:30 is pretty standard. Goofy also has good reason to ask as he once BROKE MICKEY OUT OF JAIL. And as seen up top the flashback is done in black and white AND with their old models. I just.. love everything about this and it had to have taken extra effort to make new models for the old models and thus extra money for a quick joke. So kudos best part of the episode. But with his hands tied Mickey is forced to take him and Goofy leaves him his clock which won’t stop ticking. So we get just.. nonstop good gags as Mickey tries to sleep with standouts being his trying to drown it out only to get the tick station, the tock station on the radio and the clock channel on the tv. He also tries to mail it and naturally it comes back thanks to a kangaroo when he ships it to Australia..a nd then get’s progressively batshit as he mails it to HADES (comes back in a puff of smoke) and to the 1920′s (It comes back in black and white with arms and legs). It’s just.. really damn good and I suggest seeking it out. I have liked other shorts better but this was a good one. 

Pete still gloats as they’ll need more cartoons.. only for one to fall out of his jacket and Mickey to shake the rest out. We then get a fun chase between the two, SO many good jokes, my favorite being him dressing up as a dalmation only for Cruella to take measurements, before being cornered by the three and the elephant from tarzan who throws him out.. right next to pepper-ann and her mom “Don’t touch the villian dear”. Good crossover.. and another show that like House of Mouse is not on disney plus don’t ask me why. 

So our heroes win, we get our usual sponsorship and unusually we see the guests leave, a nice bit I wish they did more. All’s well that ends well. 

Final Thoughts: This episode was fantastic. It introduces the cast well, sets up our villian, our basic premise and while only having one major cartoon, uses that as a plot point and it’s a damn good one. A fantastic start to the series and frankly the best place to start if your curious about the show. I’d like to thank Kev for sponsoring this review. If you’d like your own review you can look at comissoin details on my blog or get one guaranteed every month by becoming a 5 dollar patreon. You get one guaranteed review a month, acess to my discord server for my patreons, and to pick a short when I do birthday specials. And contributing to my patreon gets me closer to my stretch goals, even one dollar helps. Next goal not only gets reviews of the super ducktales mini series, but also a darkwing duck episode EVERY MONTH. And with the plug done, i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

[andrevasims]

Simblr Community Challenge by @amelettes

@krabbysims tagged me! Thanks :)

How long have you been playing the Sims?

Since the first one! I was only 5 years old when TS1 was released, but I vaguely remember still attempting to play it even though I didn’t understand how everything in the game worked. My dad’s big on computers, so that helped get me into the game as young as I did. Like by the time Makin Magic was released I was installing them by myself - and did you know that the CD version of Makin Magic has a fun issue where if the install process fails halfway through & it prematurely ends it will have already overwritten some of the game files with now unusable data & make you reinstall the entire game? That was fun to do as an 8 year old lol.

How long have you been a Simblr, and why did you become one?

I believe it was sometime in 2012? I’m not sure I knew that there was a “community” of players on Tumblr, but I made my simblr sideblog because I was taking enough in-game pictures I wanted to share that I thought I should dedicate it to a separate blog rather than spamming my main or having them get lost amongst all my other random posts.

What type of Simblr are you?

Gameplay, I guess? I just play the game and take screenshots if I think something looks cool, lol. Sometimes I make CC but I don’t have guidelines for what I think I “need” to post.

Which generation of Sims do you primarily play?

The Sims 2! From about 2009-2013 I almost completely abandoned TS2 for TS3. I think after that I just got bored of TS3, as being a kid I couldn’t really afford to buy all the expansions/stuff packs as fast as they were coming out. I think it would be really fun at some point to actually experience the entirety of TS3 for once, but despite only owning 3 expansion packs & no stuff packs it’s almost constantly unplayably laggy. PLUS I regularly got some sort of bug where attempting to save softlocks the game on the saving screen, leaving the only choice to quit without saving any progress. Which unsurprisingly kind of puts a damper on my interest in playing.

Tagging: @eulaliasims @mystic-hysteria @cindysimblr @taylors-simblr - Whoever else wants to do it consider yourself tagged as well!

[do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas]

Okay, so I woke up at 7:45 this morning, so I was not coherent enough to do my normal WandaVision livewatch for today's episode, BUUUT I will speak my mind now!!

Spoilers under the cut (duh):

The title of the episode itself was huge foreshadowing - "On A Very Special Episode" is what sitcoms back then referred to when they were doing episodes that dealt with heavy topics, thus the "very special" part

It's not only a nice tribute to the old sitcoms of the day, it's - again - blatantly foreshadowing what's gonna happen in the ending

But now, onto the episode:

So I had to rewatch the beginning, but now I definitely noticed how Wanda's voice was more down when she said the "previously on" bit. Extremely clever.

Vision is becoming more and more awaaaare

I know people still make out Agnes to be the big villain of it all, but she's either a really fucking good actor, or she's not entirely acting.

This entire episode was mostly me feeling bad for Vision :'(

That entire opening was so adorable, and I think that opening song's my most favorite one of the series

Though please don't make me see Baby Vision ever again, please and thank you

Wonder how Elizabeth felt -

Love the nice transitions between scenes of "WandaVision" and the world outside of Westview

I don't even notice the screen ratios, it's so smooth!

Darcy finally has her coffee :D

The trio of Monica, Darcy and Jimmy is not something I predicted, but now I love it

There was a quick clip of crying Wanda - doesn't look like foreshadowing though, cause there was a nice house in the background, a modern one - a flashback maybe?

They FINALLY confirm her powers and age!! I mean, it still causes major continuity issues with her MCU story, but hooray for something!!

Hayward is definitely suspicious (wow, how shocking -_-), but at least the trio are noticing it

I had my suspicions there was beef between Monica and Carol, but I didn't want them to be true

Homophobia

I saw this one blog who's a fan of Monica/Wanda, and same (I'm a dumb sapphic bitch, what did you expect)

So back to Vision

All the men reading the email was creepy

"Norm" saying it's just a joke was creepy

Him snapped out of it and yelling about "her" being in her mind was mega creepy

Also the actor did a fantastic job, just snapping between personalities like that

THAT LAGOS COMMERCIAL HONEY IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT

It really did make me smile seeing the trio still sticking up for Wanda, understanding how she's processing her grief and knowing she never had the proper therapy she needed

Fucking Wanda strutting out all badass, flinging back the broken drone

Also what the fuck was Hayward planning to do with Vision, cause fuck him

I don't like animal deaths or children deaths in general, so that did kinda get me

But I was mostly more confused by the twins - they seem to know more than what they should

Even Wanda said "what?" - she's at least not in control of them

Agnes still looking terrified, wondering if she'll do anything to her since she found Sparky

God, it was just so cool seeing the end credits while the scene was still going on - reminded me of Too Many Cooks in a way

Vision confirming for us that he has no memory of his life outside of Westview is so heartbreaking, Paul Bettany's really getting to show his chops now, turning this side robot character into a fleshed-out (no pun intended) personality

Also can Markiplier sue Marvel for taking his idea? (Go watch Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache if you don't understand - also go watch Markiplier if you haven't)

So I think we all, including me, joked about the mindfuckery of Evan Peters playing Pietro, but I don't think any of us thought it would actually come true

I'm pretty sure my brain was a mixture of the "potato flying through the ceiling" vine, the "YOU BETTER STAHP!" vine and the "BITCH WHAT THE FUCK" clip all at once

I really thought they were going for a "oh, this is the same Pietro, just similar in a different way, haha", but Darcy said they "recasted" him

Wanda was confused and a little freaked out the whole time

I know people are disappointed it's not Aaron-Taylor Johnson (I honestly didn't care if he played Pietro in this or not, sorry), but considering all of this, I believe this is intentional and will absolutely play a bigger role

Will he be revealed as Peter Maximoff? I don't think so (also I don't want him to be - way too confusing and we should leave the Fox X-Men to rest)

Is Wanda completely in control of Westview? I still don't think so, probably being manipulated by an outside force like Mephisto or maybe even Agnes (also it's such a red herring, everyone trying to insist she's the main villain)

Will the ending of WandaVision almost definitely tear my heart out? Absolutely (cause we know shit's gonna get fucked)

[rosesloveletters]

self-ship reference

this is a repost from my old blog and the self-ship tag I filled out quite a while ago, but I’d like to keep this as a reference on here for my main self-ships with J and Pat. I have added more onto the original post and tweaked some things - I truly enjoy sharing about them now❤❤ I will probably add to this from time to time to update things, just so I at least have some record of it somewhere; I wouldn’t want to forget them❤

I now also have ship names for J, Pat and I: 

J / Jack x Rosie = Jaie

 - first two letters of his name and last two letters of my name❤ (literally pronounced as ‘J’)

Patrick Verona x Rosie = Verose 

- first three letters of his last name combined with my entire legal name (Rosie is just a nickname of mine.)

last updated: november 29, 2020

please do not read if you are not interested in or comfortable with self-shipping.

word count: 3,568

Date you got together?

J: 10/22/19. I was aware of J when I was 8-9 years old but we never had a relationship or anything. He and I “found each other” again last October. I feel like he found me when he knew I was ready for a relationship with him. I had a whole lot going on when I was younger and I still do, but I think I’m in the best mentality I could be and I’ve grown up a lot in the past couple of years. I was not where I am now and I am strong enough to handle his persona. 

Pat: 3/30/20. Pat and I got together a few months after J and I, but it seems almost like the same amount of time. We really didn’t get to become too close because J overpowers him and monopolizes my time whenever he can. We only started to get closer a few months ago because J was distant enough to let Pat come closer. The two used to find it difficult to coexist, but they’ve been able to work it out. Now, Pat and J are almost as close as each of them are with me. They still bicker and call each other names, but it is done with love rather than malice. 

Favorite personality trait?

I love all of their personality traits, but for the sake of being succinct I’m only sharing one for each.

J: His ‘devil-may-care’ attitude. I heavily admire that J can do whatever he wants regardless of the rules - he’s untouchable and nothing can hurt him. I wish I could have a taste of that and perhaps that is one of the reasons I’m drawn to J; he gives me an outlet and a way to experience that kind of freedom that is unattainable within my real life.

Pat: His independence and how he isn’t affected by what others think of him (I know I said only one for each but I admire both of these qualities equally). I always admire independence because I am very independent as well. And as someone who used to be very concerned with how others saw me, I admire the lack of that quality in Pat because I strive to be that way every single day. I don’t want to be defined by what people think of me. Watching Pat be a good person in spite of his reputation inspires me so much - that is the exact sort of person I’d like to be.

Favorite physical trait?

I love all of their physical traits, but for the sake of being succinct I’m only sharing one for each.

J: His hands. I can always tell when J is touching me, rubbing my back or holding my hand. His hands are so distinctly him. They’re calloused and rough, but I love the way he softens from the inside out when his hands are on me and the gentlest touch is almost ironic coming from him.

Pat: His smile. Pat’s smile is brighter than the sun and more inviting than a hot bath or a warm cup of cocoa. I would do absolutely anything to see his warm smile, anything.

Couple song

main songs:

Faithfully - Journey

Lover - Taylor Swift

Daylight - Taylor Swift

Your Song - Elton John

Pet peeves…

J: If I have food he’ll just kind of grab off my plate, he never fully washes the shampoo out of his hair so he comes out greasier than when he got in, he’ll drink after me because he knows I hate that and won’t drink any more so he gets the rest, he won’t just get in the bed normally he’ll flop down and kind of mess around or bounce obnoxiously until he’s “comfortable”, gets crumbs in the bed, (J annoys me a lot, can you tell?) He also has this new habit of waking me up by digging his fingers into my hair and scratching the back of my head really obnoxiously and it is terrifying when I’m not prepared for it lol. 

Pat: Pat doesn’t annoy me half as much as J. The only thing is that he tends to be very clingy and I’m pretty independent and, when I get in a certain mood, I do not want physical affection and it can get under my skin a bit. Most of the time this is not an issue because I love affection; it’s only the rarest of occasions. If I’m in a rotten mood, sometimes I won’t want him near me because I know he’ll try to hug me and I’m not wanting it. 

Favorite outfit on them?

J: his normal, hexagonal patterned shirt, vest and suspenders make me feral, but seeing him in a regular t-shirt is quite a treat. He gave me one of his shirts and I’ve got it in my closet. I wore it on Valentine’s Day which is what got me through the day (J and Pat both know I hate that day). When J’s got me on his lap, I like to play with his suspenders while he’s wearing them; he is amused but doesn’t know why I like them so much.  

Pat: his gray, striped, long-sleeve top and dark jeans. I love and live for the simplicity of it. He has a silver chain around his neck and it peeks out beneath his shirt collar and I like to play with it when he’s holding me. J thinks I just get bored, but Pat thinks the reason I have to be playing with something is more of a nervous habit (Pat’s right). 

Favorite meal?

J: he likes meat and rarely cares what kind it is. He is partial to steak, but he’ll eat pretty much any meat you put in front of him.

Pat: tomato soup and grilled cheese. This is our go-to comfort meal and Pat and I make it for each other often.

Early bird or night owl?

J: It depends. J doesn’t ever sleep a whole lot, but he leans toward being more of a night owl because he’s more active and alert under cover of darkness. We see less of him at night because of this but he still will lay down with us and rest for a couple of hours at a time. He’ll take cat naps during the day if need be.

Pat: Pat used to be a night owl before he met me and when he used to go to bars and play pool. Now he’s an early bird like me; he likes to stay in because he can’t wait to get into bed and cuddle every night. He also does a lot during the day and he gets tired so he will go to bed early because he really needs the rest.

Snorer or sleep talker?

J: he usually doesn’t make much noise in his sleep because he rarely gets into a deep sleep. There are very rare occasions when his body needs a deep sleep and is threatening to give out unless he does so. During those times, he snores so freaking loud. Pat and I usually leave the room because it’s so loud we can’t get any sleep. Fortunately when he needs a heavy sleep he does so during the day when we aren’t around so he doesn’t feel like he has to stay awake to make sure we’re safe.

Pat: Pat doesn’t snore but he sometimes mumbles in his sleep a tiny bit, especially if he’s dreaming. He’ll mumble under his breath and press his whole body against mine (it’s my favorite thing ever). 

Do you have any pets together?

We don’t, mainly because J wouldn’t help me with any pets because he’s not around enough and none of us would want the same kind of pet. My pets are my own thing, even though they are both are nice to my pets and have no problem with them at all.

Pet names! (Both from them and yours for them)

J’s for me: (My) Rosebud/thorn, (My) wild red rose (J knows that I hate my name but he still insists on variations of it. He says that he admires roses because you have to accept being poked by a thorn or two to admire their beauty. It makes sense but I don’t know if he actually believes that or not), prickly pear (another thing with thorns - I’m seeing a theme here, J),  sweets, doll, little one (occasionally)

Mine for J: I mostly only call him J or Jack (we worked through me calling him by his real name and now he’s not as bothered by it.) Pat and I both call J either soldier or sergeant sometimes. On rare occasion, I call him Jack-Jack. 

Pat’s for me: Strawberry (because of a comfort item I own), Buttercup, baby, babygirl, sweetheart, girlie, hazel eyes (occasionally), wallaby. 

Mine for Pat: Pattycake, lover-boy, Koala, Kangaroo Boy (he used to hate being called this, but we made it into a joke and now he likes it though only if I am the one using it.) J also calls him ‘brat’ or ‘kid’. 

How often do you fight? What starts fights?

J: J and I bicker a lot but our fights are pretty rare. When we do fight, it’s usually my fault. I confront him with the fact that I don’t think he cares or that he’s here with me for some ulterior motive. Most of the time he will fight back because it’s just his nature to do so. We’ve spent time apart in the past because of this and I’m still learning that he does care, but the way he does so is much different from what Pat does. J gets pretty pissed off when I tell him I think he hates me. 

Pat: Pat and I have never had a fight (this used to be because we didn’t spend as much time together - J is very overbearing when he’s around and he pushes Patrick away from me; he doesn’t like sharing - but now it’s because we just get along really, really well.) If we ever did have a fight I don’t know what would cause it or why we’d result to petty arguments and disagreements. Pat can be rather gruff and dismissive when he needs to be, but he is only that way to strangers (and J, occasionally). He is very open and loving towards me - he isn’t a big talker to others but to me I can’t ever get him to shut up.

Who apologizes first?

J: I do, unless J has done something severe, then he’ll come into my room at night and slip in unnoticed just so that he can give me the closeness I want. I found myself having to apologize for pushing him away because I do that a lot and he doesn’t deserve it. He is caring in his own right and I am hard on him for no reason sometimes. He forgives me and eventually starts coming around again. J apologizes with subtle touches. He might put his hand on my thigh or brush the back of my hand with his thumb or put a hand on the small of my back. He knows how much I crave little touches like that and it’s his way of saying sorry.

Pat: As I’ve said, Pat and I haven’t ever fought but I like to think we’d apologize at the same time. Pat and I don’t really hold grudges so when we do fight or argue, we’d be fine ten minutes later. We also know how to talk through our disagreements so it never goes so far as arguing. Pat doesn’t let me push him away. When I try to do that he just cuddles harder and tries to make me smile (it works and I hate him for it, just kidding).

Big spoon or little spoon?

J: Big spoon, always. He lays on the far side of the bed near the windows. He doesn’t worry about being as close to the door since it’s locked but he likes being close to the windows since they’re right next to my bed. He’s always firmly pressed up against my back with his arm around my stomach. J has an aversion to having anyone at his back; he feels much too vulnerable in that position.

Pat: Big or little spoon, depending on his mood. Pat loves to love and be loved. If he’s feeling soft and gentle he might want to be the little spoon. Most often he’s the big spoon when J’s not around. Pat and I get tangled up in each other when we sleep. Sometimes he’s on top of me or vice versa. However we’re sleeping we’re always touching somehow. We don’t have the typical sleeping arrangement of big spoon/little spoon. We are a mess when we sleep in the same bed.

Dom or sub?

J: Dom. It isn’t in his blood to be anything but. He watches out for me and Pat, deeming that since we’re both significantly younger than him that we need care and protection. Our sex life is much the same - J is dominant. J is also the more…sexually driven of the two.

Pat: Pat is a switch. He’s a sub for J and a dom for me. He’s hotheaded and gets under J’s skin, but J will not relinquish control. It took Pat a while to accept that he would be J’s sub and we are still working on it heavily, even now that they are close. He isn’t completely comfortable doing everything (J is fine with that) and so they’re still taking it very slowly. It took Pat a long time to even let J get close to him in the bed while we’re sleeping. Pat sticks to me a lot more than he does with J. Their personalities clash somewhat and Pat still wants to get to know me better without J getting in the way. We’re working on teaching J the definition of sharing. Pat and I have only been intimate a few times and we cherish those times. 

What are their kisses like?

J: long, intense, fiercely passionate, burning, hot-blooded, daring, bruising, boundary-breaking (sometimes; J gets really carried away). He likes to cup my cheeks in his hands when he kisses me hard. I like to think he enjoys my soft skin, almost like he’s comparing the softness to his rough and mangled flesh. There’s no malice or jealousy to be had; J likes his scars because I like them and he is never apologetic for who he is. Fire courses through my veins when we’re kissing - J’s lips make me forget my own name.

Pat: voluptuous, sensual, shameless, delicate, universal, intimate, lingering, and sometimes tentative. Pat’s kisses are all-consuming and turn my brain to mush. His lips are soft and inviting and are where I always lose myself. He isn’t as experienced with physical affection or sensual intimacy like J and I, so he sometimes kisses with an innocence about him, but his kisses are fierce and forceful because of how much love there is to be had. It’s new and refreshing; He is never overbearing or comes on too strong (even though he kisses so hard sometimes). Fireworks go off in my heart every time our lips meet.

What do they smell like?

J: aside from gasoline, greasepaint, gunpowder and sweat, he smells like sandalwood, black coffee, flames, burnt embers, smoke and (sometimes) rainwater.

Pat: Cinnamon and cinnamon buns (one of his favorite snacks), spicy cologne, apples & his breath smells (and tastes) like peppermint.

What are their hugs like?

J: J’s hugs are strong, bear-like but affectionate, protective and resilient. Sometimes they’re stiff but still heartfelt in a way only J is capable of. J’s type of hugs keep me in the here and now. Whenever he hugs me I can be nowhere else but in the moment, grounded, holding onto him for dear love.

Pat: Pat’s hugs are tight, warm like the sun on a cool spring morning, they’re sometimes spontaneous and end in a gentle wrestling session and other times they’re adamant of love and of care. His hugs are just as protective and convey safety and comfort as much as J’s do. When Pat hugs me it is like the personification of a cloud: snuggly, soft, cushiony; love unfurls in my chest every time his arms come around me.

Who is more protective?

J. He takes the liberty of protecting Pat, William and I even though we’d obviously do the same for him. He doesn’t like to hear that though. We’re all younger than he is, as I said before, so he feels like it’s his obligation since we’re all in a committed relationship. He is the protector. However, now that William has come along, he is insistent that he can protect himself and he helps J defend and protect, whenever he can (this is what the two argue about the most.) 

Interested in children?

J: nope.

Pat: I think he might be if we were much older, but at the time, no. Him and J are both aware that I do not want children and are more than fine with it.

Who needs the most TLC when sick?

J: J throws things at us if we try to get too close when he’s sick. He’s a baby and needs care but doesn’t know how to ask for it. He will do everything he can to push us away so that we won’t stick around and help him through his sickness.

Pat: Pat is like me - he’s a big baby when he’s sick, though he feels extremely guilty asking for anything. He mainly wants someone to stay with him so that he isn’t lonely. He won’t ask for food or water or someone to lean on because he’s too weak to get around by himself, so I have to insist or bring him what he needs without him telling me to. I’m very much the same way. I have to have someone with me when I’m sick or else I get very lonely and upset (I am not afraid to admit that - last year I was so lonely when I was sick that it still bothers me. I’m so glad I had J to keep me company).

Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Me. J doesn’t ever say it with words, but actions speak louder than words anyway. I’d much rather someone do something to prove their love than just tell me. I had an experience where an old love told me constantly that they loved me. They just repeated over and over ‘I love you’ and I got so numb to the phrase by hearing it and saying it back that it stopped meaning anything to me. I love that J isn’t afraid to love me or admit it; I love that he finds ways to show me his love rather than tell me about it.

Pat and I say ‘I love you’ a lot but it always means something to me because of the tone of his voice when he says it. He likes to say it because it encompasses everything we feel for each other. It means more to me because he usually follows it with a kiss or a hand squeeze or something like that to emphasize its truth. 

Which of you is more accident prone?

Me and Pat, hands down. Though J and I have the same perplexing issue where we will get cut or something and not feel it so we won’t notice until hours later. For some reason we don’t notice it or we don’t care enough to acknowledge it. I end up with all kinds of cuts and bruises and I also drop stuff a lot. Pat always gets hit with things or he’ll drop the bottle of shampoo on his foot in the shower and slip while trying to pick it up or something like that. Now that William is in the picture, he gets hurt about as often as Pat and I do, though he rarely flinches or even acknowledges his injuries or pain. 

Bed hog?

We are all literally the biggest bed hogs it’s a wonder none of us have ever fallen out of bed. We start out squished together in our own separate spaces, but gradually overnight we take over each other’s spots and end up on top and underneath of each other, hands in each other’s hair, legs tangled and pressed in between others, pillows thrown around haphazardly and blankets wrapped practically in knots around our bodies. God only knows why or how we always wake up like this but it’s so comforting being this close to these men.

Who loves the other the most?

We all love each other equally, even though they don’t get along all the time and they fight over my attention occasionally. We have a very strong bond, unlike anything I’ve ever had before. I connect with them and they with me. We don’t fight over who loves who more. It is mutually understood that we all care about each other and love each other the same, we just show it in different ways.

[9w1ft]

this post is for any swiftie who is on the fence about this, or anyone who has heard about kaylor for the first time. please allow me a few minutes of your time.. pretty please with a cherry on top? i see you. ready to scroll past this. please. in this moment. please. give it a read. two years ago i was right where you were. please look this time. it is so important to what is going on now and taylor needs you to understand fully about scooter.

we are at a turning point. taylor’s life’s work was just bought up by scooter braun and it is important for everyone to read this perspective because as swifties we have to understand the full gravity of the situation in order to best defend taylor against her worst nightmare. you may think the kimye situation is terrible enough, but add to it this:

Scooter has been a manager for a one joshua kushner for the better part of this decade. as in, the brother of the guy who is running major arms of our whitehouse without qualification. scooter’s job is to improve his client’s image as it relates to securing foreign investments as josh is a uh.... ‘venture capitalist’ in charge of investing his family’s assets. if you’ve been looking into scooter, go ahead and look into him too.

josh started being seen with then 19 year old (think about that) rising star karlie kloss. considering the amount of push in tabloids that this otherwise nobody started getting, these two are easily identifiable as a PR relationship. he does work with many overseas investors, and karlie helps bring them in where josh alone cannot (please take the time to look up about PR relationships and how common they are. also look up ‘bearding’ and how common it is to set up a PR relationship so that a manager can better mask who a client loves, should that be problematic to a target demographic)

taylor and karlie were formally introduced to one another at the end of 2013. they became best best friends. inseparable. seen together everywhere. anytime they are together their happiness is palpable.

did you know there was a slice of pavement in new york city by where karlie lives with the initials TS♡KK engraved? they were thick as thieves!

i am not going to ask you to believe taylor and karlie dated one another. and if you believe that, i’m not going to ask you to believe they are still together. as for the first point, well, the visual history between them (and between taylor and other women integral to her life story) is overwhelming and if you would like to look at what i feel are the most straightforward stuff browse my blog @kaylorwelcomecenter and beyond.

but i digress. let’s assume taylor and karlie were just best best friends, then

...well, okay, they got caught kissing (we think that’s what Dancing With Our Hands Tied is about). but let’s say they were drunk? regardless, the smiles don’t lie—i think it goes without saying that taylor and karlie were important to one another. karlie influenced taylor to stay in new york, for example, instead of moving to london. karlie changed the trajectory of taylor’s life.

and you know they meant the world to one another because of songs with specific lyrics pointing to that like You Are In Love (taylor had an instagram post of her and karlie road tripping at big sur with the caption ‘on the way home’), and on reputation with songs like King Of My Heart (‘drinking beer out of plastic cups’ ... google “taylor swift beer” and see what photos come up), and Dress (watch her perform it with karlie watching, as she sings “i don’t want you like a best friend”).

karlie signed with scooter and in 2016 trump assumed office. jared kushner suddenly represents our nation. from then til now karlie has grown further and further distant from taylor as her relationship with jared’s brother continues.

that pavement? construction happened and the TS was mysteriously cut out and replaced with a J along with the freshly laid concrete.

rep tour starts and includes the song “don’t take the money” by jack antonoff in the preshow playlist. please listen to that song.

karlie announces her engagement to josh and the very next concert taylor sings Curious with hayley kiyoko and is in charge of the line “calling me up so late at night are we just friends? say you wanted me but you’re sleeping with him.”

the only time they are seen in public is at the nashville concert in august, and there is a photo of karlie celebrating her bachelorette with her sisters. strange that the same ambience of the photo down to the curly pink straw was replicated in You Need To Calm Down. karlie’s straw says ‘bride’ while taylor chose the word ‘lover’

after passing through karlie’s hometown, taylor sang “Speak Now” and was shaking with electricity in her delivery.

taylor comes out as a democrat. says something compelled her in the past two years to start speaking out.

karlie and josh suddenly hold a surprise wedding (coordinated by scooter’s team) while taylor is en route to australia. i say surprise because it came out of nowhere, (wouldn’t you say it took taylor by surprise?) had close to nobody documented in attendance, and the tabloid articles pushed it constantly during the bad press the kushners were getting in conjunction to ... world events involving a us citizen that was a member of the press...

taylor lands in oceania and sings I Knew You Were Trouble and slips in a firey “and the saddest fear comes creeping in that she never loved me”

on the very last night of the rep tour, a kaylor sign (representing the pavement mark) gets put up on the big screen as taylor sings “you belong with me” and bows in front of it.

in between then and the lover announcement, taylor all but confirms that half of one of the reputation concept photos is a collage of her and karlie’s eyes. ...i mean, she even encircled which eye is hers on the lover album cover 😂

because their first wedding was such a drag, karlie and josh held a ‘bigger reception,’ also coordinated by scooter’s team, and they had the audacity to give out shots of patrón as party favors 😡 taylor is not in attendance.

now scooter buys her music??

not only is this guy responsible for bad behavior surrounding kimye, he also has orchestrated the obliteration of one of the foundational relationships of taylor’s life. whether it was platonic or more than that, i don’t want to waste my time convincing you because either way, hearing scooter’s name makes taylor cry. and i am a thousand three hundred percent positive that it isn’t just about bullying surrounding kimye.

think about that. think on it.

we need to support taylor (and god am i worried about karlie in her own right!) and it goes beyond the kimye drama because this man and his client are predatory and downright creepy. and given the political connection? dangerous. they ruined her reputation and took away her best friend. literally took her name out of the pavement and ‘married’ her friend off in the eyes of the public. this goes far f*ing beyond bad management practices. this is so unforgivable.

and i cannot stand for people jumping in the comments telling us we are all delusional. honest to god i thought this was all ‘a reach’ two years ago. i was there. but i gave things the benefit of the doubt and i looked into it. i did my research on the music industry, and on hollywood and PR relationships. taylor wanted us to get political, right? please take this a step further if you already haven’t and look into the structures that control our society. taylor is dropping easter eggs for us, right? we need to look for clues. taylor is drawing attention to LGBT issues, right? look at the intersection of that and the music industry, suspend disbelief for one instant and imagine if taylor herself was gay, what her relationship with karlie may have meant to her, and how it was torn apart, at the very hands of the men who took over her music.

i am being serious. people calling us delusional might like to tout themselves as being sane or more in touch with the world, but they are literally sticking their heads in the sand on this one and turning a blind eye on something that is so cutting for taylor... now and over the course of her whole career. and each and every one of them best get off anon and stick a name to their words and proudly stick a pin to their comments, and @ taylor (i am dead serious. at your words to @taylorswift) if they are oh so confident, because when this blows open they’ll be on the wrong side of history on this one and i want them to know it and own it and learn from it. because this a huge life lesson and we are poised to take what we learn and give back to our idol by defending her in full force and it’s harder to fight when you’re sitting on your hands.. what role are you going to play? please... make the jump.

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Debut || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || you’re twenty years old, a full-time uni student, and you’re living out of home. money is tight. so, naturally, you decide to sell your virginity to the highest bidder. when you get an offer from some guy in his mid-thirties, you put on your nicest dress and head on over. but there’s a problem: he has no idea who you are, or why you’ve turned up at his house at nine o’clock at night. maybe things aren’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped. modern day au.

rating || explicit, with fluff dotted throughout. 18+ only. do not read if you are under eighteen. the age gap between reader and roger is sixteen years.

word count || about 17.7k.

author’s notes || welcome one and all to my very first fic on this blog! i pictured roger circa ‘85 (specifically live aid) for this fic. this fic is also dedicated to my friend and fellow mid-thirties-Roger enthusiast Jennifer @mrfahrenhcit (i couldn’t find a way to work in everything you asked, but i’ve saved some of them for the next roger fic that’s in the works). fun fact: this is the first reader fic where i’ve used ‘Y/N’. some people have said they’d had issues with this post being extremely slow to load, or the app has crashed - i think it’s just bc it’s so long, and i apologise for the inconvenience.  [i am a proud member of the anti-cross-tagging club.]

masterlist

     You don’t think you’ve ever felt more nervous before in your entire life.  You’ve wiped your sweaty palms on your dress ten times in the past two minutes, and your heart hasn’t stopped racing from the moment you woke up this morning.

    What are you doing? Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?

    Well, that’s the thing. You know exactly what the fuck you’re doing.

    You aren’t doing it out of embarrassment, or anything to do with pride. You don’t feel pressured, not by anyone, not even by society, fuck society, but you saw some dumb article about it – it was hardly even an article, just gossip – and it gave you the idea, and then you were doing some research about it, just for the money, it’s just for the money, you’ve been living out of home for two years now and life’s still kicking you in the ass, so why wouldn’t you do it for money, if you could? And you can. So you went onto some website and snooped around to check for at least some sign of legitimacy, and then, well, you were making an account, and you made an account, and uploaded some photos that you never thought you’d upload to the Internet, and, a couple weeks later, you found out that someone had chosen you. Chosen you.

    And now here you are.

    On your way to a strange man’s house.

    To lose your virginity to him.

    Because he’s paid for it.

    Well, he’s paid half. The other half comes… after.

    And you’re not nervous about the actual sex part, you suppose, but more about the fact that you’re going to a stranger’s house for sex. Does that make you a sex worker? Could you call someone who played guitar in one gig and got paid for it, but never got paid for it again, a musician?

    Probably. But maybe that isn’t the best comparison.

    You don’t know much about this guy. Just his address, his name, his age – thirty-six, could be worse, to be fair – and that he’s obviously got plenty of cash to spare. And he’s definitely not the sort of guy you want to have around. Seeing as, y’know, he’s paid a twenty-year-old virgin to have sex with him.

    The Uber pulls up to a stop in front of a house. It’s dark outside, almost nine in the evening, so the house is hard to make out, but it’s quite a nice place, very white-picket-fence. Something out of a magazine catalogue about the suburbs. You thank your Uber driver and grab your oversized handbag, climbing out of the car.

    You close the door behind you.

    The Uber drives off.

    And you’re alone on the sidewalk.

    You hoist the handbag onto your shoulder. It’s got a couple of things you think you’ll need – condoms, lube, two change of clothes depending on what this guy is after. You think you look more than nice enough in your heels and tight, black dress, but just in case.

    You glance at your phone, double-checking the address. You send a quick message to your best friend Justine: at the house. will keep u updated.

    She’s the only one who knows; and she only knows because you figured that at least someone should know, if something goes wrong.

    Good God, you’re hoping nothing goes wrong. Not in that way. Not in any way, really.

    And again, you’re back to asking yourself what the fuck you’re doing.

    You take a deep breath, and start heading up the front path.

    Your hands are shaking by the time you reach the front step, but you force yourself to raise a fist and rap your knuckles on the door. The automatic porch light is yellow, and you can’t help but feel irked by how unflattering it is.

    You can hear movement inside the house. A part of you is searching for the sound of kids, although God forbid there’s any to be heard. But a guy like this… Well, your first conclusion is that he’s looking for an affair.

    You really don’t want to be some kind of mistress. But, you suppose, this is really just a business transaction, so you’re free of at least most of the guilt, right? All of it, if you actually have no idea if he’s married.

    Please don’t mention your wife, you pray. Don’t implicate me or whatever.

    Finally, the door opens, and you feel like you’re about to throw up your heart onto your feet. But you push it down, and drink in the man in front of you.

    If you weren’t sure before if he was a dad, now it’s unmistakable. He’s slim, and reasonably tall – not remarkably so, but still tall – and he’s dressed in loose jeans and a blue flannel that he has rolled up to his elbows. His hair is blond, sort of shaggy, sort of spiky, like he spends his time running his hands through it. You idly wonder what it’d feel like in your hands. Guess you’ll find out soon enough.

    But the thing that really knocks your socks off is the big blue eyes that blink at you, framed by eyelashes that you’d kill to have yourself. Those eyes flash down to your outfit, and then back up at your face.

    Okay. Maybe this whole thing won’t be that bad at all.

    You give him your most winning smile. “Hi,” you say in a way that you hope is both alluring and professional.

    He blinks at you again. “Hi,” he says, his eyes wide. His gaze flits up and down your body, like he’s trying to compute what he’s seeing in front of him. “Um, hello. What, uh– Can I help you?”

    His voice is soft, softer than you were expecting. Gentle, almost.

    You lick your lips and shift your feet. “I’m, ah, Mandy. Are you Roger? Taylor?” Your name is fake, of course. You’re not sure about his. Not that it matters.

    “Yes, that’s me,” Roger says. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh, I’m sorry, you’re, um, lovely, but I don’t think I know you.”

    Huh. Odd. Is this a foreplay thing? “We have an appointment. You booked me two weeks ago, and you gave me this date and this time,” you prompt unsurely.

    Roger’s brow crumples. “An… appointment?”

    You feel your face starting to heat up. You almost ask if you have the right address, but no, you already know that he’s Roger Taylor, he’s the one who booked, so you must have it right. “Yeah,” you say. “You, um…” You lower your voice a touch. “You already paid in advance. This is pretty much a done deal, but I’m just here to fulfil my end of the bargain. And then, of course, you’ll have to pay me the other half.”

    Roger’s starting to look a little pale now, and you’re not quite sure what to do with that. His eyes dart down to your outfit and back up to your face. “Pay you?” he says. “I’ve– what? I’ve paid you? What did I pay you? When?”

    Now you’re both embarrassed, and confused, and well, this isn’t something you’d pictured going wrong.

    You suddenly feel very exposed in your tight dress and heels.

    “Uh.” You scratch behind your ear. “Like, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve booked me, and I’m here. And it wasn’t a small sum of money, so I doubt you’d want to…”

    Roger’s mouth opens, and then closes, and opens again. “Oh, shit, hang on,” he says, his voice flat, “did I… Was this all booked and arranged two weeks ago on the Friday night?”

    “Yes,” you say. “Why?”

    Roger sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he moans. “For God’s…” He raises his head, and sighs again. “Look, um, Mandy, there’s been a big misunderstanding. I, um, went through a divorce, er, relatively recently, a few months ago, and I’ve been doing a bit of wallowing, I guess you could say, and my friends tried to cheer me up a fortnight ago on Friday by bringing round a few bottles of very nice whiskey and gin. I don’t remember a lot of that night, but, now that you mention it, I have some vague memory of my friends trying to get me to, you know, ‘move on’, and, um, I think they might have looked up… people online.”

    Your ears are really burning now. “Oh,” you say.

    “That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Roger adds. “You’re a…”

    “Not really,” you blurt. “Kind of. It– oh, man.” You bite your bottom lip, hesitating, not quite sure how much to reveal about the situation. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Yes, I’m… from a website. But I’m not – this isn’t a living, or a side gig, or whatever. Not that it would matter if I was, because there’s nothing wrong with…” You shake your head. Stay on track. “It’s just a one-off. You paid me to… to take my virginity.”

    You swear you can see Roger’s soul leaving his body in that moment. “You– I what?”

    You shrug helplessly.

    Roger takes a step back, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

    “I’m sorry for the confusion,” you say, and your stomach sinks further when a realisation comes to you. “I…” You swallow. Your mouth is dry. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t – The money you gave me. I’ve done this to help pay bills and rent and everything, and it’s already been used. A chunk of it, anyway. I can’t refund you. I’m really sorry.”

    “No, God, don’t apologise,” Roger says. “You weren’t to know.” He shakes his head. “Fucking dickheads, the lot of them.” He looks to you, and warily inspects your face. “How old did you say you were?” His voice is small, like he’s scared of the answer.

    “Twenty,” you reply, and his shoulders sag in relief.

    “Thank God,” he says. “I mean, still, you’re so young, but at least you’re…”

    “An adult?”

    He nods, grimacing sheepishly. “I really am being honest when I say I don’t remember much of that night. My mates aren’t those sorts of people, but, well, who knows what they’d try to pull when they’re pissed.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say. “I look young for my age. But I am twenty.”

    “No, I believe you,” Roger says quickly. “I’m not… No.”

    You wipe your palms on your dress again. What now? Do you just go home? That wasn’t the cheapest Uber ride you’ve ever had. You were kind of relying on that extra money.

    Roger seems equally at loss. “You– Did you have to travel far?”

    “Not that far,” you say. “Forty minutes-ish.”

    “Fuck,” Roger says. He puts his hands on his hips, and then drops them again. “What time is it? It’s nearly nine, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, about nine.”

    “It’s late. You should be getting home.”

    Your heart sinks. Wow. Okay. This is really just over like that. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you say. You take half a step back. “I’m really sorry about the– the, um, whole mix-up thing. And sorry about your divorce.”

    Great. Real smooth.

    “Thanks,” Roger says. He hesitates, and you’re about to turn and head back down the driveway, when he says, “How are you getting home? Did you drive?”

    “Uh, no,” you say. “Uber.”

    “Uber? God, no, sod that,” Roger says. “Let me…” He fumbles for something in his back pocket, but comes up empty. “Let me pay for it. I don’t– Can I pay you for it?”

    “It’s all right,” you reassure him. “You’ve already given me– it’s okay.”

    “No, please, I insist,” he says. “Should I– cash? I can give you cash. Or… transfer…” He rolls his eyes at himself, those pretty blue eyes that shouldn’t belong to a man his age, but somehow suit him perfectly. “God,” he mutters. “I usually have things more together than this, I promise. I’ve just been caught beyond off-guard.”

    “Sorry,” you say again.

    “It’s not your fault, really, I don’t– How could I blame you? You had no idea. I am going to murder my friends.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “Um. Okay. I’ve paid you before, haven’t I, if you got the deposit? How did I do it? I can just do it that way again.”

    “You transferred it to me,” you say. You shift in your heels. Your feet are starting to ache.

    “Let’s do it that way again, then,” Roger says. “I’ll just get my phone, sorry.”

    “It’s okay, really,” you say yet again, stopping him. “Don’t bother. I’ll– It’ll take me two minutes and then I can be on my way home.”

    Roger hovers, and then says, “Can I– Did you want to wait inside? Or out on the steps? Could I get you some water, at least?”

    You hesitate. “Um–”

    “I’m not trying to do anything,” Roger blurts, and then he shakes his head. “Now it sounds like I am trying to do something. I’m not. Really. If you want, you can just wait here and I’ll go inside and leave you alone.”

    You glance at your phone. You haven’t ordered the Uber yet, but you are pretty thirsty. You look back up to Roger. “Well, I already had it in my head that I was coming here to sleep with you, so I’m not really concerned about you trying anything,” you say. “Some water sounds nice, actually.”

    Roger laughs. Like his voice, it’s unexpectedly soft, and it makes you smile.

    “Um. Yes,” he says, glancing at his feet. “Well. Um, come on in, then.”

    You head back up the path, and Roger steps aside to let you in.

    You slip past him. He smells good.

    His house, on the inside, is just as white-picket-fence as it is on the outside. Not the tidiest, but you suppose he wasn’t expecting company.

    He seems to notice the slight mess the same moment you do, and he hurriedly darts forward to tidy up.

    “Sorry,” he says.

    “No, don’t worry about it,” you say.

    He bends down to grab an empty beer bottle from where it sits on the floor next to the couch. Nice ass.

    Not that it matters. You aren’t sleeping with him anymore. But, to be fair, you are only human. Just because you’re no longer ordering doesn’t mean you can’t admire the menu.

    “I, uh, wasn’t expecting any guests, obviously,” Roger adds, half-jokingly.

    You chuckle, and adjust your dress. Roger’s eyes flash down to your hands, then to your chest where you’ve pulled the dress down a little further in your adjustment, and then he quickly looks away, running his hand along his jaw.

    “Uh, um,” he says. “Water? Um– take a seat, by the way. Feel free to sit…” He gestures vaguely around him. “Sit anywhere. Anywhere you like.”

    “Um, okay,” you say, and hesitate, before awkwardly perching on his couch.

    “Sorry, did you say you wanted water?” Roger says.

    “If you wouldn’t mind,” you say.

    “Yeah, of course,” Roger says, and then disappears into the kitchen.

    You breathe in a lungful of air and slowly let it out. Wow. Talk about an unexpected evening.

    You take out your phone and message Justine. boy do I have a story to tell u.

    She’s online, and she replies immediately. fuck what’s happened?? everything alright??

    You bite your lip, considering how to reply. yeah I’m fine. the guy is super easy on the eyes, but there’s been a mix up and basically I am remaining firmly in the virgin zone for the foreseeable future lol.

    You backspace and try again. yeah I’m fine. long story short I’m coming home. tell u about it when I get there.

    is he ugly?? Justine replies, and you can’t help but smile in amusement.

    oh no, that’s not the issue even a little bit, you reply.

    “I’m assuming tap water is fine?” Roger says, reappearing with a glass of water, making you jump slightly and flip your phone face-down on your leg, as if he could somehow see the screen from across the room. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. I don’t really have anything else.”

    “No, no, tap water is fine, thank you,” you say, and he hands the glass to you.

    You take a sip.

    Roger glances away, seemingly looking for something to do or something to say, as if the answer is written in the walls. He chews on his thumbnail.

    Your mind scrambles to find something to say, but it feels like trying to eat soup with a fork.

    “Is everything all right?” Roger asks suddenly, looking to you. “I know this is probably completely inappropriate, but… Well, paying for someone to…”

    Your stomach sinks with embarrassment. “Oh,” you say. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just – could do with the money.”

    “Of course, yeah,” Roger says hurriedly, nodding. “You’re at uni?”

    “Yeah. And living out of home, so.”

    “Right. Yeah, of course, I should’ve guessed. Sorry, that was…”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say with a reassuring smile. You chuckle. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening like this.”

    “No, no, it…” Roger smiles, and you feel every trace of oxygen leave your lungs, because wow, he’s attractive. “It’s a welcomed interruption, actually.”

    “It is?”

    “Well, all I had planned was to watch something shit on Netflix and drink beer,” Roger says, screwing up his nose. “Not exactly exciting.”

    “Oh, don’t let me stop you,” you say. “Sounds like they were big plans.”

    Roger laughs, and your heart thuds against your ribcage. “The sort of plans that sound much nicer when you have company, I think.” He pauses. “Not that– not that I’m expecting you to–” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really, I’m not usually this… awkward.”

    “You don’t have to apologise,” you say, shaking your head.

    “I used to be a real ladies’ man, you know,” Roger says. “Back in the day. Before my wi– my ex-wife. And the kids.”

    “Sure,” you say, drawling sarcastically.

    Roger laughs again, a little surprised, but amused. “I was!” he insists. “I was picking up women left and right.”

    “I believe you,” you say lightly.

    Roger grins, and you have to take a steadying breath. “You’ve got a tongue on you, haven’t you?” he says delightedly.

    “So it’s been said.”

    It comes out more suggestive than you’d intended. Roger takes a moment to drink you in, and then he bites his bottom lip, looking away, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, the other one slipping under his shirt, massaging his shoulder.

    Your stomach flips and jumps. You take a sip of water.

    “You sure you’ve never been with anyone before?” Roger says.

    You snort. “That’s a pretty rude question, don’t you think?”

    Roger smiles sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

    You take another sip of water, and then say, “I haven’t slept with anyone, no. I think I’d know if I had.”

    “Right,” Roger says mildly, nodding.

    You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

    “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

    “You’re thinking very loudly. Is there something wrong with me not having slept with anyone?”

    “No,” Roger says, his eyes widening. “No, shit, that’s not what I was trying to say. It– you just seem… I’m just surprised. That someone like you…”

    You adjust your dress again. Roger’s eyes drop to your breasts again, and back up to your face. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, trying not to preen.

    Roger ponders over his answer for a while. “You just seem to… know what you want.”

    “Oh, you think so?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says noncommittally.

    His eyes find yours, and they stay there. Your heart is racing in your chest now, making your blood feel warm. You’ve been attracted to plenty of people before, but this is really something else.

    Roger clears his throat, breaking away, and you surreptitiously squeeze your thighs together.

    Your phone buzzes on your thigh. It’s Justine. so he’s hot?

    “Is that your Uber?” Roger asks. If you aren’t mistaken, he sounds almost disappointed.

    Your cheeks grow hot. “Oh, um, I haven’t actually… I forgot to call it.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. A tinge of relief? “Well, no rush.”

    “It’s just my friend checking up on me,” you add.

    “That’s good of them.”

    “Yeah. Well, actually, she was checking up on me before. Now she’s just–” You open and close your mouth a few times, but decide to be honest. “Uh, she’s just, um, asking about you.”

    Roger quirks an eyebrow, and it’s so hot that you have to look away. “About me?”

    Your phone buzzes again. are you on ur way home now?

    “Uh,” you say, and quickly type out, not yet.

    “What have you told her?” Roger asks, playfully curious.

    You put your phone down, and take a breath, smoothing your hands down your legs, thinking carefully of how to answer. “Just that you seem nice.”

    “Nice?” Roger says.

    “And you’re… Well.” You smirk. “I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. No point in boosting your ego too much.”

    Roger steps forward, drawn to you by an invisible string. “I don’t think I understand,” he says faux-innocently.

    “I’m sorry, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that you were pulling girls left and right?” you say, cocking your head.

    “Oh, yeah, when I was twenty,” Roger says. “Not talking about now.”

    “Have you tried?”

    Roger pauses, slightly taken aback by this, and his eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks, blowing hair out of his cheeks. “You may have a point there.”

    “And I suppose that’s why these friends of yours contacted me?”

    “You… may have a point there,” Roger says again.

    You nod to yourself. “I don’t see why they couldn’t have just taken you to a pub and set you up with someone there. It’d have been a lot cheaper.”

    “They’ve, um…” Roger cards his hand through his hair. “They’ve tried that, actually.” He hesitates, and then walks over to you, sitting down on the armchair near you. “They’ve taken me out a couple of times.”

    “And you’ve struck out?” you ask.

    Roger chuckles. “No. I – well, like you said, I suppose I haven’t really tried. I didn’t want to.”

    “Too soon?”

    “No, it’s not that. It’s…” Roger pulls a face. “I don’t know. Haven’t felt like it, really. Maybe it was too soon. Or maybe the thought of having to try to chat someone up just seemed like so much effort.”

    “Surely it wouldn’t be much effort for you.”

    Roger meets your eyes again, and he smiles slowly, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

    Your phone vibrates. The way Roger’s looking at you makes you wish it was something else vibrating that you could put to good use alone in your room.

    Roger’s eyes flick down to the phone, and back up to your face. “That your friend again?”

    You hesitate, and then flip the phone over. hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    “Yeah,” you say, and put the phone down beside you.

    “You going to answer it?”

    “In a minute.”

    You smooth your hands down your thighs. Roger watches like a hawk.

    Your hands slide back up your thighs.

    He swallows.

    You smile.

    “You, um, you ever…” Roger tears his eyes away from your thighs to look at your face. “Have– have you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

    “Yeah,” you say casually. “Not for a long while, though. And nothing too serious. Nothing as full-on as marriage.”

    Roger laughs, but it comes out sounding a bit strangled. “Yeah. That’s all right, though. That doesn’t matter.”

    Your phone buzzes.

    You ignore it.

    “I never got around to… all of that,” you explain. “Y’know. Fucking.”

    Roger’s face goes slack. “Uh–”

    “I wasn’t waiting for anyone special,” you continue. Your blood feels electrified under his gaze. “Just never quite got there.”

    “Never quite–?”

    You hum. “That’s misleading. I’ve made out with plenty of people, but that’s all. Some over-the-clothes action. Basically nothing, really.”

    Roger looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Uh-huh.”

    “You probably find that hard to imagine,” you say with a wry smile. “Having kids and all. How old were you your first time?”

    Roger blinks, and takes a moment to reply. “Uh, I was sixteen.”

    You laugh. “God, I can’t even picture…” You frown, and shake your head. “It’s hard to picture what it’d be like, you know? The reality of it? You can watch as much porn as you like – and I’ve watched plenty, mind you – but, like, I know that it’s not real. Not realistic, anyway. I’ve spent what feels like ages just trying to picture what is actually is like, but it’s impossible for me to know.”

    “It’s good,” Roger says, and it comes out in a rush, and he looks surprised at himself.

    You feel a thrill go through you. “Good?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says. “Everyone says your first time isn’t good, but that’s only if your partner doesn’t know what they’re doing. And it’s nice when you have an idea of what you’re doing, too, but that comes with time. And if you have a good teacher.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “But when the chemistry is right, and the mood is right, it’s… good.”

    “That’s descriptive,” you murmur sarcastically.

    Roger huffs a laugh. “What do you want, a detailed explanation? Graphs and illustrations?”

    “A demonstration would be nice.”

    Shit. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. Why the fuck did you say that?

    Your eyes are wide, and you open and close your mouth a few times. “Uh.” Roger looks as surprised as you feel. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Wow. Is– is this part of the…”

    You blink. “Part of the…?”

    “The whole…” He gestures vaguely. “…thing. You being paid to…”

    “Did I just make a complete idiot of myself as part of my attempt to woo you as a kind-of sex worker?” you ask. You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Nope. No. That was all me. Just being a dumbass.” You groan, covering your face. “I’m sorry,” you say from behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing.” This whole night has been nothing but a huge embarrassment. You can’t wait to go home and forget about it, thanks to an unhealthy dose of alcohol.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says.

    You lower your hands. “For what?”

    “For – I don’t know. I just felt I needed to apologise.”

    You snort. “You don’t have to apologise for me very clumsily and awkwardly and horribly trying to flirt with you, Roger.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “You’re probably used to seeing that all the time.”

    “Again, not for a very long time,” Roger says. “But I know what horrible and awkward flirting looks like, and… that wasn’t it.”

    “But clumsy, though, right?” you say, screwing up your nose.

    Roger chuckles. “Maybe. But that’s all right.” He shifts in his seat. “I was just as clumsy.”

    You wave a hand, and reach for your phone. It’s high time you called your Uber. And reply to Justine. “You weren’t flirting with me.”

    You re-read the messages from Justine you’re yet to reply to.

    so hes hot?

    are you on ur way home now?

    hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    Then the new one, from a few minutes ago: for the love of god can u please reply to me. something. anything. I’ll take a solid thumbs-up.

    So you send a thumbs-up.

    When you look up, Roger is staring at you, and you realise he hasn’t spoken since you did.

    You’ve well and truly crossed a line somewhere. You can’t blame him for wanting you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m just – my friend. I’ll get the Uber now. Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

    “Don’t,” Roger says.

    You pause. “Don’t what?”

    “Don’t order the Uber.”

    Your stomach bubbles. “Wh– No?”

    “Not yet, at least,” Roger says. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I wasn’t flirting with you?”

    “Why would you be?” you respond automatically.

    “Why would…” Roger shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “Because I’m a random twenty-year-old woman who’s just shown up at your door on a Tuesday night dressed like this talking about how you paid to take my virginity,” you say bluntly. “Which is more than a little off-putting.”

    “Well, all right, I’ll give you that,” Roger says. “But here I am, still trying to clumsily flirt with you nonetheless.”

    You break out into a smile, a bashful one, and duck your head. “Oh.”

    “Oh,” Roger repeats, a touch playfully.

    You glance up at him. He’s smiling at you, pleased with your reaction, and the thought of kissing him flashes through your mind, and you’ve suddenly never wanted anything more. You purse your lips, looking at your hands again, fiddling with your phone, flipping it around and around in your grip.

    “Mandy,” he says gently, and you’re puzzled for a moment before you remember –

    “That’s, um, not my real name,” you tell him with an awkward chuckle. But you really like how he said it all the same.

    Roger looks so embarrassed that you can’t help but laugh. “Here I was, trying to be all suave, and now I look like an idiot,” he says.

    You shake your head. “You don’t. You didn’t know.”

    “I should’ve guessed you weren’t using your real name.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you giggle.

    “Well, am I allowed to know your real name? So I can try again?”

    You hesitate.

    “Unless you don’t want to,” Roger says quickly. “That’s fine. Security, and all. Stranger danger.”

     You laugh again. “Stranger danger? I’m in your house.”

    “I could be a stalker. You don’t know that.”

    Fuck, you’re attracted to him. “Dork,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

    Roger chuckles, his eyes sparkling.

    “It’s [Y/N],” you add.

    “[Y/N],” he repeats, and your breath catches ever so slightly. He pauses, and then comes to sit beside you on the couch, and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he says. “I’m Roger.”

    You giggle, and take his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Roger.”

    He’s so close now. He smells amazing, and his hand is warm, and his eyes are so blue, and his lips–

    You realise you’ve been staring at his mouth, your hand still in his, and you glance back up at his eyes before quickly taking your hand back, looking away.

    You tuck your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat. You’re barely aware of your own body – only his, and how close it is to yours. Like there’s a force between the two of you, connecting you. When he swallows and moves his hand back to his own lap, you can feel it as if it’s your own.

    “Do you, um…” Roger takes a breath in, and you feel your chest, your lungs, buzz. “Tell me about yourself a bit.”

    “Me?” you say, looking to him. Oh, wow, he really is close. Fucking hell, you want him.

    “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you do for fun? Stuff like that?”

    You lick your lips, and his eyes dart to the movement. “Um, well, I…” You absentmindedly adjust your dress, and it catches his eye again. “I’m at uni, in my second year. It’s all right. Pretty stressful, obviously, but I like it well enough. I live with two of my friends. I, um… I like… dogs.”

    Roger laughs.

    This is so stupid, you realise. You both clearly want each other.

    You shake your head. “Stupid,” you mutter.

    Roger frowns. “What’s stupid?”

    “This,” you say. You gesture between the two of you for emphasis. “This.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. He shifts away from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

    You huff. “You’re not.”

    “Then what–”

    “Kiss me,” you cut in.

    Roger stops. “Kiss you?”

    “Yes,” you say, keeping your gaze steady on his. “You’re too damn difficult to resist. So kiss me.”

    Roger hesitates.

    You raise your eyebrows. “Unless you don’t want to?”

    “No, I – I do,” he says. “I just…”

    “What?”

    “I feel like the circumstances… I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this because I’ve paid you to…”

    “I don’t think that,” you say. “And I don’t want your money; this is way beyond that now. I’m not trying to trick you into sleeping with me so I can force you to pay me. I just know chemistry when I see it.”

    Roger chuckles. “I was right,” he says. “You know exactly what you want.”

    You steel your nerves. “Yeah,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I want you.”

    Roger swallows. “But you don’t even know me.”

    “Nope.”

    “And you’re in my house.”

    “Yep.”

    “And I’m so much older than you.”

    “That’s right.”

    “And you’re…”

    “I’m a virgin,” you finish, nodding. “I know. But for the love of God, Roger, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to scream.”

    Roger exhales, shakes his head minutely, and then says, “God fucking damn it,” and leans in to kiss you.

    You immediately shift to press closer towards him, one hand coming to rest against his chest. He kisses you earnestly, but gently, like he’s nervous. Nervous about making you feel pressured, you can safely assume.

    But that’s not what you’re about. You pull back, and, before he can say anything, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist, and kiss him again, more deeply than before. He breaks away just far enough to whisper, “Holy shit,” and then ducks his head to kiss down your throat. You tilt your head to give him more room, one hand against his chest and the other raking through his hair. His hands, rough and warm, smooth up your thighs, and your breath catches. They stop just under the hem of the dress, and a soft whine slips from your throat.

    Roger moans in response. “Jesus Christ.”

    You reach down and grab at his wrists, urging his hands to go further up the dress. “Touch me,” you pant.

    He draws back, and you look down at him, at his slightly flushed cheeks and his ruffled hair, and you want him naked, right now. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “We can just make out, that’s absolutely fine. Just because of… the whole… arrangement…”

    “Roger,” you say slowly, “I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

    He nods, swallowing.

    You cup his face in your hands, boring your eyes into his. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Right now.”

    Roger takes a shaky breath. “Are you–”

    “What did I just say?” you cut in. “Not repeating it.”

    Roger smiles, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

    You smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    “Oh, it most certainly is one, believe me.”

     You lean in to kiss him, and his hands, thank the Lord, slide further up your thighs. You start unbuttoning his shirt, blindly, fumbling a little, and your kisses grow more eager.

    You’ve kissed a number of people in your time. Not a whole lot, but a few. And Roger really takes the damn cake.

    When his shirt is fully unbuttoned, untucked from his jeans, you move your lips down his neck, and he moans, letting his head roll back, his hands shifting to grab your ass, pulling you against him. You can feel the tent in his jeans, and, beyond thrilled, you grind against it, loving how a bolt of arousal shoots through you. Roger’s grip on you tightens, and when you nip at his skin, he spits out, “Fuck.”

    You rock your hips against him again, and he laughs again. “God, it’s been too long.”

    You hum, nipping his throat again and soothing it with your tongue. “How long is too long?”

    “Months. Lost count. Ah, fuck.”

    You pull back, giving him a look, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Try twenty years,” you say dryly.

    Roger shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine.” He kisses you, just once, and then murmurs against your lips, “I promise I’ll make this good for you.”

    You shiver. “I’m sure you will.”

    “I mean it.” He kisses you again, and then sits back, his hands sliding back to your thighs and squeezing them gently. “I want this to be good for you. If I’m going to be your first, I want you to enjoy it. So you have to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, yeah?”

    You nod. “Yeah.”

    “I don’t care what it is we’re doing – you can tell me to stop at literally any point, and I will, no questions asked.”

    You nod. “I know, I know.”

    Roger chuckles. “You just really want to get things going, don’t you?”

    “Yes.” You press your lips to his, and, now that you both know where things lie between you, you’re both eager to get to the next step. The kisses quickly become more feverish, hotter, deeper. Roger’s hands go to the back of your dress, working the zipper down your spine, and you shudder at the feeling of it. When he’s done, you sit back to yank it over your head, dropping it the floor behind you.

    Roger’s eyes drink you in, his mouth hanging open. “Whoa.”

    You flush under his gaze. You know you look good – you’d worn your push-up bra and matching lace underwear for a reason – but it’s still a rush to get a reaction like that.

    “Bedroom?” Roger says, his voice a touch weak, and you nod, leaning in to steal one last kiss before climbing off him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. He groans slightly as he does so, and you giggle.

    “I know, I know, I’m old,” he says.

    “No, I like it,” you say, tugging him closer to you and hooking a finger of your other hand through a belt loop on his jeans. “Dad noises.”

    Roger shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you lean into the touch. “Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “Makes me feel even older.”

    “You’re not old,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even forty.”

    Roger laughs. “Ah, yes, a real spring chicken.”

    “Can you stop whining and fuck me already? I’m gonna be forty by the time we get to it.”

    Roger snorts. “Cheeky.” He leans in to kiss you, and you curl your arms around his neck, pressing into him.

    When you break apart, you take Roger’s hand again, and he leads you to his bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in the dark house. You’re only in your underwear, but you’re still wearing your heels, and you feel like you’re in some kind of Victoria Secret ad.

    Roger keeps glancing back at you, his eyes sweeping your body, and he’s so distracted he almost runs into a wall at one point, and you have to tug on his arm to pull him out of the way, laughing as you do so. He retaliates by pushing you up against the wall and kissing you senseless, his thigh slotted between yours. You’re lightheaded and unbelievably turned on by the time he breaks away again, and it feels like a lifetime before you reach his bedroom. 

    Roger switches on the light.

    The double bed is unmade, but the room itself is fairly tidy, just a pair of shoes and a shirt on the floor. The whole room screams tax-paying adult, and you’re reminded again that the man you’re about to sleep with is, in fact, a proper adult. Not like you, an adult by the loosest terms imaginable, but a fully-grown man with children and a mortgage and a career, probably. A completely different world to yours.

    But none of that will matter when you’re both naked. 

    He closes the door behind him, and then you’re pouncing on him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and all but tearing his belt off. His hands are tight on your hips, and when you undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans, he pants, “Bed, bed, go sit on the bed.”

    You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one knee over the other, taking the opportunity to quickly tie your hair back out of your face while and Roger fumbles with the rest of his clothes, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and jeans. You can tell that he would’ve been thin as a twig back in the day, and you’d easily call him slender even now, but his body is soft, the sign of a father who’s spent more time taking care of the kids and having a beer in the evenings to wind down than going to the gym. It suits him, looks good on him. You’re certainly a big fan.

    Soon, he’s down to nothing but his boxer-briefs. His boxer-briefs, which are neon green.

    You break out into a grin, and Roger looks down at them, sighing. “Of all the fucking pairs I could’ve put on today,” he mutters.

    “They’re pretty great,” you say, and you make sure you have Roger’s full attention before you uncross your legs, spreading your knees wide, leaning back on your hands, “but I’m more interested in what’s underneath them.”

    From the look on Roger’s face, you’d guess his legs are about to give out from under him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he huffs, and he hurries over.

    Grinning, you scramble backwards on the bed, lying down, and he crawls after you, over you, and his kiss is bruising.

    Your hands are shaking now – with excitement and with nerves, a lot of nerves – but you ignore that, and worm your fingers inside his underwear, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a tug.

    He jerks, and you have a moment of panic where you think you’ve done the wrong thing, but then he kisses you with more fervour, so you do it again. This time, his hand finds yours, gently guiding you away.

    “Did I do something wrong?” you ask.

    Roger looks confused for a moment, and then says, “God, no. I just don’t want to get too worked up before we get to, y’know, the main event.”

    “Oh,” you say, smiling in relief.

    “You really have no experience at all, do you?” Roger says, sounding almost disbelieving.

    “That’s what I’ve been saying,” you say. “It hasn’t all been some elaborate ruse to get into your pants. Literally all I have is some vague, theoretical ideas on how this works. And I know the mechanics. But that’s it. So you’re gonna have to be patient with me.”

    “That’s fine by me,” Roger says. He chuckles. “It’ll make everything I do seem much more magical than it really is.”

    “Sure,” you say mock-condescendingly.

    Roger laughs, and he looks so wonderful when he’s laughing that you can’t help but smile, your hand reaching up to comb through his hair.

    He notices the look in your eye, your smile, and he smiles back in a way that makes your stomach squirm and your fingers and toes tingle.

    He kisses you, and the squirming in your stomach grows into full-blown butterflies, big Amazonian ones, and you begin to have an inkling that, oh no, this could be bad. This could be very bad indeed.

    It’s probably nothing. He’s just hot, and nice, and funny, so you’re excited to have sex with him. That’s it. You’re a duckling that’s imprinted on its mother. Except you’re a human, and Roger’s the first person you’re having sex with, not your mother.

    Not the best analogy you’ve come up with. You can’t blame yourself, though – the way Roger’s kissing you is turning your brain into mush.

    He presses a kiss to just under your ear, and then kisses all the way down your throat, and you tilt your head back. “Feels so good,” you murmur.

    You can feel Roger smile against your skin.

    He keeps going, kissing the hollow at the base of your throat, further down still, and you bite your bottom lip. He presses a kiss to the top of your right breast, and then looks up at you. “Can I take your bra off?”

    You nod eagerly, and he moves back so you can sit up. “Oh, I’ve still got my shoes on,” you said.

    “I’ve noticed,” Roger says, and you chuckle.

    “As super sexy as they are, I do wanna take them off,” you say.

    Roger ducks forward to drop a kiss to your neck, and the butterflies are back, and you can feel your cheeks going pink. You want to hide your face, but Roger’s right there, and you can’t look away from his eyes. “How about you take your bra off,” he says, “and I’ll get your shoes.”

    “You don’t have to take my shoes off for me,” you say.

    “Well, I want to,” he says simply, and shuffles down, climbing off the bed. He gestures for you to shift forward, and you do, until your feet are hanging off the bed, your knees hooked over the edge. Roger gets onto his knees – he makes a dad noise as he does so, and you giggle again – and fiddles with the buckle on one of your shoes.

     You take a moment to watch him, biting your lip, smiling, and then reach behind you and unhook your bra, slipping it from your shoulders.

    He doesn’t look up right away, and you’re thankful for a moment to get your head around the fact that you’ve never been completely topless in front of anyone before. You’re self-conscious about the grooves the bra has dug into your skin, about the way your breasts look without the aid of the push-up, and you almost go to cross your arms over yourself, but then Roger glances up, and his hands go still. “Bloody hell,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

    You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice, unsure how else to respond.

    Roger shakes his head, and focuses back on the shoe, making quick work of it and easing it off your foot, setting it down beside him. He moves onto the other shoe. “Talk about winning the fuckin’ lottery,” he says.

    “I could say the same,” you say.

    Roger stops again, looking to you, and then smiles, looking back to the shoe. His ears have gone red.

    He takes the second shoe off and places it beside the first, then presses light kisses to the inside of your knee. He moves further up your leg, up your thigh, and you realise you’re holding your breath. His arms are curled around underneath your legs.

    Roger looks up at you, his thick eyelashes making him look almost angelic. “Is this all right?” he says. “If I…?”

    He’s asking if he can eat you out. Oh, God, he’s asking if he can eat you out. He wants to put his mouth and tongue there, and maybe his fingers, too, and no one’s ever done that before.

    You nod eagerly. Maybe a little too eagerly, as Roger laughs.

    You feel your stomach cave in on itself in embarrassment. “Actually, no thanks,” you say, trying to pull your legs back. “Changed my mind.”

    “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Roger says, still chuckling. He coaxes your legs back to where they were, and kisses your thigh. “It was just the look on your face.”

    “You’re doing a terrible job of wooing me,” you say, aiming for resolute and chastising, but it comes out sounding more weedy and humiliated.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says again, and his hands stroke your legs soothingly. “I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed.” He smiles, a glint in his eye, and you’re momentarily left breathless. “Can I… make it up to you?”

    You can’t help but smile back, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Cheesy.”

    “Thank you,” Roger says. “I’m going to be honest, as fun as this banter is, my knees aren’t going to last forever.”

    You splutter a laugh. “Yes, yes, okay, yes please.”

    Roger surges up off the floor to press a firm kiss to your lips, and you take a moment to wonder just how dodgy his knees really are if he can do something like that, or whether he was just looking for a convenient segue into getting your underwear off. You’re not fussed either way.

    Roger kisses your collarbone, and then pulls back, hooking his fingers into your underwear. “Lift your hips up for me, love?”

    The pet name makes heat pool between your legs. Oh, Jesus.

    “Mm-hm,” you say, hoping it sounds more nonchalant to him than it does to your own ears, and lie back to lift your hips, and he slides your underwear down your legs and drops them near your shoes.

    You expect him to go back to his knees straight away, but he holds himself above you, kissing you, deep and slow, making you whimper into his mouth. One hand holds himself up, and the other one massages your hip, his thumb kneading your skin. Relaxing you, you realise. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, and you’re only partially aware when Roger’s hand moves from your hip to your thigh, brushing over your skin.

    You’re extremely aware, however, when his fingers stroke through your folds for the first time.

    Despite yourself, you jump, and Roger murmurs, “Sorry,” but you shake your head to dismiss his concerns, and pull him in again.

    For a few moments it’s strange, feeling someone’s else hand there, and you’re very conscious of how wet you are, and you wonder if it’s something you should be embarrassed about, but then Roger circles your clit, and suddenly all your worries seem very far away.

    It feels… good. Really fucking good. Roger’s fingers are rougher than yours, but they’re clearly experienced in how they move.

    You push your hips up against Roger’s hand, wanting more, and Roger complies, his fingers moving just a touch more roughly, and he ducks his head to nuzzle at your throat, kissing it, nipping lightly.

    “Oh, God,” you moan to the ceiling, overwhelmed already, and you almost laugh at how surprised you sound. Your hand grips Roger’s hair, and you hope it’s not too hard, but you couldn’t let go if you tried.

    Then Roger’s hand is gone, and you let out a choked sound at the sudden stop. You try to gather your thoughts to ask why, but then Roger is kissing down your body. Oh, man, you think, unable to conjure up anything else, and Roger chuckles, and you realise you said it out loud, but you don’t have time to be embarrassed, as Roger takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth tugging at it, and you gasp.

    “I’ve never… That’s new,” you say weakly, hissing when Roger runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple.

    Roger pulls off to ask, “Do you like it?”

    “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

    “Good.” He goes back to his task, and you arch off the bed slightly.

    “So good,” you breathe. Roger switches to the other nipple, and you moan appreciatively.

    Eventually, both to your dismay and your excitement, he draws away, and presses a single kiss to the space between your breasts. “You’re fucking stunning,” he says, and then he moves back to climb off the bed, setting himself between your thighs.

    You struggle to wrap your head around it. How he could be making you feel this good, and then still compliment you, as if you’ve done anything to deserve it?

    Roger doesn’t waste time talking now. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and then he dives straight in, his tongue nudging your clit as it pushes through your folds. You suck in a sharp gasp, your hand gripping his hair tightly. Your other hand flails, grappling at the sheets as he starts to find a rhythm. You wind up pressing the back of it to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds you’re making, trying to gather some sort of control, because right now you feel like you’re falling head-first off a cliff, and Roger has complete power over how you land.

    He does something with his mouth – you couldn’t tell for the life of you what it is – and your hips buck against your will. “Sorry,” you blurt out, and it comes out broken and breathless.

    Roger just adjusts one of his arms, bracing it across your hips, holding you down, and you moan. His other hand joins his mouth, sliding a finger into you. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, and then your hand returns to its position, keeping you somewhat quieter.

    It doesn’t take long before Roger’s working in a second finger, pumping them in and out of you, and the sound of it is so obscene that it makes your face go bright red. You’re climbing towards an orgasm, frighteningly quickly, and when a third finger squeezes in beside the first two, you very nearly come, but the sting of the stretch is enough to keep it at bay.

    But then your body relaxes around the three fingers, and Roger crooks them just so and sucks on your clit, and you move your hand away from your mouth to say in a rush, “I’m– I’m so close, I’m gonna come, fuck, ah, shit,” and then–

    Then Roger is gone, his fingers and mouth are gone, and you’re left teetering on the brink of an orgasm, feeling like the air has been punched out of you.

    “Wh– Roger?” you say, your head a mess. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see Roger still between your legs, but instead he’s massaging your thighs with his thumbs, dropping light kisses to your soft skin.

    He smiles up at you, his nose and chin glistening. “Thought we could try something.”

    You shake your head to try to clear it. “But I was just about to…”

    You can still feel the urge. Another minute, and you’ll be there. But the longer you wait, the more the feeling fades. It makes you want to punch a wall.

    Roger hums. “I know. That’s the point.”

    You frown, trying to wrap your head around it. “You… don’t want me to?”

    “Not yet.”

    It finally clicks. “You’re gonna do that to me a couple more times before you make me come, aren’t you?”

    Roger’s smile widens into a grin. “That’s the plan. If you’re on board.”

    “I’m on board,” you say. “As long as when I do come, it blows my fucking mind.”

    “That’s really the point of it, love.” Roger keeps eye contact with you as he leans forward to press a kiss to your core, and you shudder. “And move your hand away from your mouth. You don’t have to be quiet. The more sounds you make, the better.”

    “When am I gonna get my hands on you?” you ask. “I’ve barely even touched your dick yet.”

    Roger huffs a laugh, and you can feel his breath against you. “We’re getting there,” he says easily. “Good things come to those who wait.”

    “Ugh, that’s such a dad thing to say,” you bemoan, lying back down.

    Roger laughs again, and then his mouth and hands return to where you so desperately need them. You suck in air through your teeth. “Fuck, Roger.”

    Roger moans, and you jerk at the sensation.

    He brings you to the edge once more, and, even though you don’t tell him when you’re about to come, he knows, and leaves you hanging once again. So close, so close, but not close enough.

    You feel like crying. Or kicking him in the face.

    You moan helplessly, slinging an arm over your eyes, your legs trembling as Roger smiles against your thigh – you can feel it. A smug smile that makes your blood boil and your core throb even more than it already is.

    Then his fingers push into you for a third time, and his tongue licks through you, but this time it’s slow, painfully slow, not enough to make you come but enough to keep your head lost in the clouds, enough to make your stomach clench and twist, desperately searching for something. It’s enough to make you grind your teeth together. “God, fuck, I need to come,” you sob against the palm of your hand, your thighs trying to clench around Roger’s ears, but his arm is in the way, keeping your hips still.

    His tongue drags against your clit, steady and unhurried, and the gasping whine that rips itself from your throat is piercing to your ears. Not even your hand could muffle it.

    “There we go,” Roger says, and does it again.

    You squirm. “Roger, fuck, please, I wanna come so bad.”

    Roger’s fingers still move in and out of you at a leisurely pace, but he uses his mouth to say, “You wanna come?”

    “Yes,” you say miserably. “Please, I need to.”

    His thumb presses against your clit, and you bite your bottom lip, your body twisting.

    “Christ,” Roger breathes. “That’s a fucking sight.”

    “Fuck me,” you beg. “Anything, just please.”

    Roger takes his hand away, standing and wiping his face on the back of his hand, and you swear. He kicks off his boxer-briefs. His cock is hard and red, swollen, leaking. You sit up and zero in on it like it’s a four-course meal and you haven’t eaten in days. You scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him.

    “Fucking hell,” he says, clearly not expecting you to do that.

    “Can I suck you off?” you ask desperately, resisting the urge to just shove your mouth around his dick without further preamble. “I’ll do a good job, I promise. Just tell me what to do. I’m a fast learner.” You curl your fist around him, sucking the head into your mouth.

    Roger makes a strangled sound, his hips bucking slightly. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, guiding your head away with a hand on your head.

     You pull back, but keep your hand where it is. “Just fuck my mouth,” you say, gazing up at him. “I dunno how that works, but I can keep it open.” You do so, sticking your tongue out, silently begging with your eyes.

    Roger chuckles softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come just from running your mouth like that.”

    You open your mouth wider.

    “Or from just doing that,” Roger says. He pries your hand away from his dick, using it to pull you to your feet.

    He kisses you, a hungry kiss, a you’re doing so well kiss, and it makes you preen. “But I want to fuck you,” he says. “I’ve had my dick sucked before; you’ve never been fucked.”

    “I’ve never sucked a dick before, either, though,” you reason.

    “Well, hit me up next time you’re in the neighbourhood,” Roger jokes. Before you can reply, he kisses you again, and you drink him in greedily, palming at his cock until his kisses grow sloppy, messy, more teeth and tongue, and he has to snatch your wrist. “Let me get inside you first,” he growls. “Good God.”

    “I like it when you’re bossy,” you say, teasingly.

    Roger hums, his eyes dark. “You need that attitude fucked right out of you.”

    “Do it,” you say fervently, grinning in delight when he grabs your other wrist as well to stop you from touching him. “Do it, do it, do it. Fuck it right out me. I need it. Never had anyone try to fuck anything out of me before.”

    Roger shudders. “Jesus.”

    You half-heartedly try to tug your wrists back, but he holds them tightly. “Fuck me till I can’t walk,” you say. “Come on.”

    Roger takes a breath, and then lets your wrists go. “Bed. Now.”

    You scramble to obey, clenching your thighs together at the sight of Roger. He looks wrecked already, his hair a mess, his skin flushed, his eyes glassy, his lips red. He goes to his bedside table and digs out a bottle of lube and some condoms. “Maybe should check the date on these,” he mutters to himself, and squints at the packets in his hands. After a few moments of peering at them, he sighs in frustration, and reaches for the pair of glasses on the table that you hadn’t noticed before. He slips them on, and then nods at the packets. “They’re fine.”

    He goes to take the glasses off, but you say, “Wait, show me.”

    He turns to you. “Show you what?”

    Fuck, he looks gorgeous in those glasses. They’re large, round ones, with delicate silver frames, and you make a soft sound. “Oh, wow.”

    “I know, they’re horrendous,” Roger says, taking off the glasses and setting them down. “My eyesight’s always been shite, but I can’t stand wearing the bloody things.”

    “No, you look great,” you say. “So great, in fact, that I need you to get the condom on so you can fuck me literally right now.”

    Roger raises his eyebrows. “You what?”

    “I’m dying here, Roger,” you say loudly, smacking the bed beside you. “You look hot as fuck in those glasses, and I’m so insanely horny that I’m about to explode. I need your dick in me right now.”

    Roger grins, and rips open the condom packet. “All right. Jeez.”

    “Let me do it,” you say, crawling over to him and taking the condom from him.

    “You’ve ever done it before?” he asks.

    “Not since we had to at school when I was, like, fifteen.” You do it carefully, to the best of your memory. Your mouth waters being so close to his cock. “Is this right?”

    “Yeah, perfect,” Roger says. “You look incredible, by the way.”

    You look up at Roger, and the butterflies return. You’re left momentarily speechless, but it doesn’t matter, because Roger leans down and kisses you. His hand rests against your collarbones, and you get another idea in your head. You rise up into a kneel, keeping his lips on yours, and then you take his hand, pressing it against your throat: a silent invitation.

    Roger moans into your mouth, and applies some pressure, just a bit, testing the waters.

    It makes your core ache, and you kiss him harder, so he presses harder in return. His palm is warm against your throat, and you keep one hand loosely around his wrist, the other hand in his hair, as it is wont to do.

    You end up lying back on the bed, Roger pressing his hand against your throat as you gasp and squirm.

    “You like this, don’t you?” Roger says, fingers on his other hand dipping into your folds. “Fuck, feel how wet you are.”

    You nod desperately. Your mouth is hanging open, and your head is starting to swim.

    “Is that all for me, love?”

    You whimper, nodding again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Roger lets go of your throat, and you gasp, your eyes wide. “More,” you say immediately. “More. Fuck me like that.”

    Roger smiles, keeping his palm against your throat, but brushes his thumb across your skin. His other hand curls around your knee. “Your enthusiasm is… mind-blowing,” he says with a chuckle, “but just take a moment, yeah? You’re all over the shop. Slow down a bit.”

    “I don’t wanna slow down,” you protest, grabbing onto his forearm.

    “We’ve got time, love. It doesn’t have to be over so quickly.”

    “You can’t tease me like that, almost make me come, like, three times, and then tell me to slow down,” you say. “I need you, Roger. Christ, I need you. Show me what it’s like, show me how good my first time can be.”

    Roger’s pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a shaky breath. He swallows. “Spread your legs.”

    You grin, and do so. Roger lets go of your throat and leans over you on all fours to kiss you briefly. “I’m not choking you while I fuck you,” he says. “I want you to feel all of it, not have your head somewhere else.”

    You nod vigorously.

    Roger reaches for the lube. You hold out your hand, and he raises an eyebrow at you, but pours some into your hand. You reach forward and slide your fist up and down his cock, spreading the lube. He groans and shudders, and then he says, “That’s enough, that’s enough, I want to fuck you.”

    You take your hand away, wiping the lube on the sheets, Roger surges forward to capture your lips with his, and you feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. A shot of adrenaline explodes within you.

    “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Roger says, and you nod.

    Then, slowly, he pushes into you, just an inch or two. You gasp at the stretch, gripping onto his arms, your mouth wide.

    Roger stills, and nuzzles at your throat. “You okay?”

    “Mm-hm,” you say, biting your lip. “Keep… Keep going.”

    He does, rocking in shallowly, just going a little further each time. He’s panting against your neck, and you can feel your sweat pricking your skin. You can’t help but admire Roger’s back, the way the muscles move.

    It feels good. Once you get over the initial shock to the system of having something that size inside you, you realise why you were so excited to get to this in the first place.

    “I’m good,” you say, nails absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. “It– It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

    “You sure?” Roger asks, kissing your neck softly.

    You can’t help but laugh. “Roger, for the love of all things holy, fuck me.”

    He doesn’t need another invitation. He slams into you, and your eyes go wide, a tiny sound of surprise leaping out of you.

    “Sorry,” Roger says, raising his head to kiss you in apology.

    “Don’t fucking apologise, it feels good,” you say back. “Come on, come on.”

    Roger laughs, and kisses you. You can feel his laughter against your lips, feel the way his smile changes the shape of his mouth, and that dangerously warm feeling in the pit of your stomach returns.

    You could get used to this. Get used to Roger laughing against your lips as he’s buried inside you. Get used to teasing him, to turning him on, to rolling around in his bed.

    As soon as the thoughts creep into your mind, you banish them. That’s not happening, you tell yourself harshly. This is a one-and-done deal. You can’t develop feelings for a man you’ve only met once. A man who is, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, sixteen years older than you.

    Then Roger pulls out halfway and drives back into you, and all you can think about is his dick.

    Your hand goes back to your mouth, just like before, keeping yourself quiet as you moan and whimper. Your ankles hook over the small of Roger’s back.

    But then Roger pauses, sitting up, and he unwraps your legs from around him and pushes one of your knees flat on the bed, keeping you spread out wide. “Hands away from your mouth, love,” he says. “Let me hear you. It’s okay, you can let go.”

    Your face burns, and you cover it with both of your hands. It’s too big of an ask. You’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Roger…”

    “[Y/N].”

    You lower your hands. He’s watching you, his blue eyes burning with desire, but they’re soft, too. Understanding.

    “Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Hold onto the sheets, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

    You nod, and, with no small amount of effort, let your arms go by your sides, your fists wrapping in the sheets.

    Roger smiles. “You’re amazing.”

    You turn your head away, overwhelmed.

    “Eyes on me. Hey.”

    You look back at him. Exposed. You’re exposed, in every sense of the word.

    Roger braces himself on the bed beside your ribs, and, keeping one hand on your knee, holding it down, he starts fucking into you again, hard and deep.

    The sound you make could best be described as a mewl, and it’s a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. Your hands tighten in the sheets, fighting the urge to cover your face again. Roger’s eyes are still on yours, and it’s too much, you want to look away, but you can’t.

    “So good for me,” Roger pants. “Fuck. God, you’re incredible.”

    You whine. “Roger.”

    “That’s it, love. Say my name.”

    He thrusts into you at just the right angle, making your back arch. “Roger.”

    Roger groans, and he lets go of your knee to circle his fingers around your clit. You gasp, your eyes finally breaking away from his to look to the ceiling, feeling yourself climbing rapidly for the fourth time that night.

    “Let me come, let me come, please,” you beg, your arms straining as your fists pull on the sheets.

    Roger leans forward again to kiss you, a mess of heavy breathing and tongues and lips brushing. You let go of the sheets to clutch onto him, pawing at his shoulders and back and hips, unable to settle on where you want to hold him.

    One hand inevitably slides into his hair, and you grip onto it, tugging it hard. Roger’s rhythm stutters, and he groans out your name.

    His fingers feel so fucking good, and, doubled with the way he’s stretched you out, tripled with how he edged you before, you just know how hard you’re going to come. You can feel it building deeper within you than you’ve ever felt before, like an impending tsunami.

    Roger readjusts, sitting back again, his brow furrowed as he searches for just the right spot to hit you.

    When he does, you cry out. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

    Your hands scrabble for purchase, and one finds your own hair, burying itself, and you don’t pull, but you keep a firm grip on it, the slight pain being the only thing keeping you from losing yourself entirely. Your other hand finds the same spot as before in the sheets, and you sob, screwing your eyes shut.

    “You close?” Roger asks, and you nod.

    “Say it out loud, love.”

    “Yes, I’m so close, I’m so close,” you gasp. You’re almost there, you can feel it, only inches away, moments away.

    “Open your eyes, come on.”

    You do, and meet his gaze. “Roger,” you whimper.

    “You gonna come for me?”

    “Y-yeah.”

    “I wanna hear it, yeah? Wanna see you. See you come undone on my cock.”

    And that’s the final nail in the coffin. You orgasm pulses through you, so hard that you convulse, and you wail, blurting out Roger’s name, clenching down on him. Your blood roars in your ears, and you’ve never come so hard in your life.

    Roger moans out, “Fuck,” and then pumps once, twice more, and then comes, groaning your name, a shudder ripping through him.

    When he comes back to himself, blinking his big blue eyes at you, you can’t help but think he looks otherworldly. His face, pink, shines with sweat, as does his whole body. Locks of hair stick to his forehead, his temples. His mouth hangs open, and his chest heaves, and maybe it’s the ten-out-of-ten orgasm you just had, but in that moment, you kinda want to marry him.

    He takes the hand you’ve tangled in the sheets, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Your heart just about explodes. “You all right?”

    You splutter. “All right? The fuck’s that meant to mean?”

    Roger smiles, massaging the palm of your hand with his thumb. “I mean, are you hurting anywhere?”

    My heart hurts from you being all hot and perfect and stupidly romantic, you think. “No,” you say. “I’m just fine.”

    He pulls out of you, carefully, and it does nothing but reignite a spark of arousal within you. Then he collapses onto the bed beside you with an unmistakable dad noise, and takes off the spent condom, tying it off and tossing it into the rubbish bin beside his bed. When that’s done, he wastes no time in rolling onto his side and pulling you in for a kiss. You hum happily, shifting closer to him, not even caring about the sweat and how wet you are all over your inner thighs.

    When he breaks away, he says, “So. How do you feel?”

    “Like I just had the biggest orgasm of my life,” you say.

    Roger chuckles. “I meant now that you’re, y’know…”

    It clicks. “Now I’ve lost my virginity?” you say playfully. “Had my sexual debut? I’ve become a woman?”

    “Not that any of it matters, of course,” Roger adds. “But it’s still… It can be a big thing.”

    You give him a soft kiss. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” you say. “Virginity is nothing but a social construct and all of that.”

    “Of course,” Roger reiterates.

    “But I feel… happy.” You hope your grin isn’t as cheesy as it feels. “It’s nice to not have to… worry about it anymore, I suppose? I don’t know if I was really worrying about it before, but it… I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just had a really good time. That’s all that matters.”

    “Good.” Roger’s hand goes to your hip, squeezing it. “I’m glad.”

    “Did…” You lick your lips. “Did you have a good time?”

    “Did I have a good time?” Roger repeats, almost aghast. “Are you joking?”

    “Even though I had no idea what I was doing?”

    “You’re a natural.”

    You laugh. Your stomach squirms – both because of those ridiculous maybe-almost-could-be feelings, and because, even though you know in your mind that the whole sex part of the evening is over, your body certainly isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

    Your thighs clench together, but you do your best to hide how it feels. You don’t want to be greedy.

    Roger feels your thighs move under his hand, though, and he looks to you questioningly. “Are you still–”

    “No, no, I’m fine,” you say lightly, shaking your head. “I was just moving around.”

    Roger pauses, and then says, “All right.” He kisses you, and then takes a moment to gather his energy before he sits up. “I’ll get us some water.” He turns to you, pointing a finger at you, as if something just occurred to him. “You should go pee.”

    Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Oh, yes, good thinking.”

    “Bathroom’s just there,” he says, gesturing across the room at the closed door.

    “You have an en suite?”

    “Well, yeah. Much easier when there’s kids around.” His face falls a little. “Not that I’ve had the kids here very often recently, but uh…”

    “I’m sorry,” you say.

    He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s fine. Great way to bring down the mood, eh?” He leans down again to kiss you, and then stands up, stretching. “Be back in a mo’.”

    You watch him, your gaze hawk-like, as he pulls on his neon-green underwear and disappears out the door, raking his hand through his hair as he goes.

    Your thighs clench together again, and you whimper.

    You try to push it aside, and slide off the bed to go the bathroom, pulling on your underwear as you go. You don’t exactly feel like putting your push-up bra back on, but you don’t want to just lounge around completely naked. Would it be too presumptuous to put on Roger’s shirt?

    You bite your lip, considering, and then decide to just bite the bullet, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It’s comfy, and smells like him; you understand why women in movies do it now. You do have to call bullshit on wearing a man’s shirt like a short, cute dress though – it’s more just like a long shirt, and you’re glad you’ve chosen to put on underwear.

    It feels odd to pee in a stranger’s house – even odder that it’s an en suite – but you’re thankful that you get a moment to properly gather yourself in private, instead of while being surrounded by the smell of sex.

    It’s when you’re washing your hands that you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth drops open in horror.

    You look like a fucking mess. Your foundation is patchy where you get oily and where you’ve sweated it off, and there’s a slight ring of smudged mascara under your eyes – honestly, you’re thankful that it’s not worse, and that your setting spray did at least something. Your hair, though, is the worst of it all. You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

    “Oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. What can you do? You don’t have any make-up with you to try to fix the problems, but you can’t exactly take it off, either. You have no way to fix your hair. You untie it from the ponytail it was in and try to smooth it out, but it doesn’t really do much, so you tie it back up again, but it’s a shitty ponytail, so you untie it and try again. Then you try a third time, and give up, settling on the disaster that it is, and grab a tissue, blotting at your make-up.

    You sigh, staring at your reflection. Well, fuck. What the fuck are you meant to do? How the hell can you go back into the bedroom, knowing you look like this?

    “[Y/N]?” Roger calls. “You all right in there, love?”

    You shiver. God, the way he says the word ‘love’. The way he says your name.

    You clear your throat. “Um, yeah, I’m– I’m fine. Just…” You can’t say you’re still peeing. Oh, fuck, what if he thinks you’re taking a shit or something? “I’m just fixing up my make-up.”

    “I think there might still be some make-up wipes in a drawer somewhere, if you want to have a look,” Roger says. “Maybe they’re no good anymore, I’m not sure.”

    You have a dig around, and find a packet. It’s already been opened, quite a while ago by the looks of it. Must be Roger’s ex-wife’s.

    The thought of that sits weirdly with you, but you’re not quite sure why. Almost like you feel like you’re intruding, maybe. You certainly don’t feel like you belong here, in this bougie, nice house.

    You sigh again, and pull out a handful of make-up wipes, seeing if there’s any that still hold any moisture. One in the middle has a little bit, so you carefully run it under your eyes, and lightly tap it over your forehead and down your neck to soothe your skin, fixing up any problem areas as best you can without it being too obvious that you’ve just wiped off the make-up.

    The end result is fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but… yeah. Fine.

    You throw the make-up wipes into the bin, take a deep breath, and exit the bathroom.

    Roger’s on his phone, and he looks up when he hears the door open. His face goes slack when he sees you. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

    “Isn’t that what girls are meant to do after sex?” you joke.

    “I just haven’t seen, um, anyone do that in… in a long time,” he says, somewhat stilted, and he glances down at his hands. He quickly turns his eyes back to you. “It looks good. Really good.”

    “Thank you,” you say, and pad over to the bedside table near him, where he has two glasses of water waiting. “Which one’s mine?”

    “On the left.” Roger sets his phone down and watches you as you take a sip of water.

    He’s close to you, and, like before you kissed for the first time, you’re hyperaware of every movement. But he barely moves, just waits for you.

    When you put the water down, you hesitate. You want to climb on top of him, kiss him, feeling his arms around you again, but is that too much? Does he want you to go? Are you overstaying your welcome?

    “You all right?” he asks gently.

    You nod. “Um, yeah,” you say, and take a step back. “You probably, um, have work or something tomorrow, so I should go.”

    You don’t miss the way Roger’s face falls a bit. “Oh, you want to go?”

    No. “Well, it– I don’t want to impose…”

    “If you want to go, then I’ll order an Uber for you,” Roger says. “But don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want to.”

    The Amazonian butterflies are back yet again. “I…”

    “Because – and correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger says, reaching out and tugging on his shirt, pulling you closer, and you go without any resistance, “but I think you were telling a bit of a fib before, when you said you were… what did you say? Just moving around?”

    You press your lips together as Roger guides you between his legs, and he tilts his head back to gaze up at you. He smiles at the look on your face. “Am I right?”

    You can feel your face heating up again. “No,” you mumble unconvincingly, hiding your smile behind your hand.

    “No hands over mouths,” Roger murmurs, reaching up and taking yours. “You don’t have to hide.”

    Fuck. Oh, fuck. His voice sounds like a warm fireplace feels, and you barely even know him, but you’ve never felt safer, more comfortable, around a man. You can’t pretend now – you’re really starting to like him.

    Roger raises his eyebrows at you, just a touch, searching your face. “So? Am I right?”

    “It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. You’ve done plenty, I… I can’t ask for more.”

    Roger hums, and presses a kiss to your palm before letting your hand go. “All right, okay,” he says. “I was wrong, I see. Can I at least tell you what I’d do to you if I had been right?”

    You breathe in shakily, and nod once.

    The corner of Roger’s mouth quirks up. “Well,” he says slowly, “first I’d kiss you, of course. And, as hot as you look wearing nothing but my shirt and your knickers, I’d undress you again. Get you lying down on your back, all spread out for me. I’d kiss you some more. Then I think I’d choke you, because you seem to like that a lot, yeah?”

    You nod, hypnotised.

    Roger nods as well. “Right. And then, while I was holding you down by your throat–”

    You gulp.

    “–I’d get my other hand, and I’d–”

    “Okay, yes, you were right,” you blurt out, and grab his face, ducking down to kiss him desperately. He kisses you with just as much hunger, and nudges you a few steps back, giving him enough room so he can stand up and start unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as he’s done, your shrug it from your shoulders, and Roger pulls you closer by your ass. One hand moves to cup your jaw, his tongue pressing against yours. It doesn’t take long before the hand shifts to your throat, and you whimper softly, urging him to tighten his grip.

    He does, and the feeling of it goes straight to your core. Your hands clutch at him frantically.

    He lets go of your throat, and you suck in a gasp, then latch onto his neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at his skin, licking off the salty traces of sweat.

    “Careful, love, careful,” he says shakily. “I can’t turn up to work looking like I’ve been attacked by a vacuum.”

    You huff, but soften your kisses. He moans under his breath, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything hotter.

    Soon, you break away, and crawl back onto the bed, and he follows you, positioning himself on all fours above you to kiss you deeply, his knee slotting into between your thighs. He presses it against your core, and you instinctively grind against it, shuddering when it fires an electric shock of arousal through your system. Roger shifts, readjusting his balance so he can bring his hand back to your throat, and you welcome it. You grind against his leg again.

    It’s when you have to stop kissing him, your brain going into overdrive trying to force you to focus on breathing, you have to breathe, that Roger sits back, moving his leg out of the way and replacing it with his other hand.

    “Fuck, Roger,” you gasp, twitching under his grip, your hands vice-like on his forearm. Your eyes slide closed, revelling in the way your head swims, the way your body fights to suck as much oxygen as it can into your lungs. You’re still so wet from before, still so stretched out, that Roger slides two fingers into you at the same time with ease, and you let out a stuttering moan, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers swirl around your clit, hitting it in just the right way, and within minutes you’re almost there.

    “Most people think the best part about getting choked is the actual ‘getting choked’ part,” Roger says out of the blue, and you frown, trying to follow, opening your eyes.

    “Hear me out,” Roger says casually, pushing his fingers back into you and flicking your clit with his thumb, and you whine. “Are you close, love?”

    You nod.

    Roger hums. “You look so good like this. Does it feel good?”

    You nod again. “Mm-hm.”

    “Yeah, looks like it does. Looks like you enjoy it.”

    “Ah, Roger, please.”

    “It’s all right, love, I’ve got you.” Roger’s fingers quicken their pace, and you make a sound, squirming.

    “As I was saying,” Roger continues, “people think the best part of getting choked is actually getting choked. But it’s not. The best part of it is actually being let go. Do you want to see?”

    You nod, barely even listening to what he’s saying. You’re too close to coming to pay attention.

    And then Roger lets go of your throat at the same time he brushes your clit, and a rush of oxygen flows into your lungs, a rush of blood flows back to your head, and your orgasm slams into you, and the world seems so much brighter in that moment. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, your back arching, your eyes wide.

    It feels like it goes on for a lifetime, although perhaps that’s just your mind trying to sort itself out. When you do finally start to come down from your high, you realise you’re shaking, and Roger is grinning at you. You blink at him owlishly.

    “Wh– Huh?” you breathe, your heart racing, and Roger laughs.

    “So you’re alive, then,” he teases, and leans down to kiss you.

    You grab onto him, kissing him soundly, and roll the both of you over, so you’re straddling him. You just stay like that, just making out, letting the frenzied kisses lull themselves into something slower, something calmer. Just kissing for the sake of it. Roger’s hands stroke up and down your back, and you could almost fall asleep like this.

    Speaking of falling asleep – you have to break away, hiding your yawn by tucking your face into his chest. Roger hums, and you can feel it vibrating against your body. You smile. “Sorry,” you mumble.

    “Can hardly blame you,” Roger says, his voice low. “It’s late.”

    You let yourself slump against him, a moment of pure self-indulgence, and then roll to the side, dumping yourself onto the bed. You groan, unable to stop yourself from instinctively shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping, your arm beneath your head like a pillow, your eyes closing.

    “I’m sorry,” you say again, muffled by your arm. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

    Roger says nothing, and you feel your stomach coil in guilt. God, he wanted you to leave fifteen minutes ago, didn’t he? He was just too polite to say anything. And then you pressured him into making you come again, because you were too selfish to know when enough was enough. Great, fucking great, you’ve fucked it all up, and you’re a huge piece of shit, and you–

    “Did you want to stay the night?” Roger asks tentatively.

    Your eyes fly open, and you shift up onto your elbow. “What?” you say. “Stay?”

    Roger glances away from you. “It– It was just a suggestion,” he says. “Just an idea, I don’t know. I, um – it’s just late, and I don’t want you travelling all that way on your own. You can, obviously, if you want to, that’s up to you, I just…”

    You’re hardly even listening. You’re still struggling to drink in the first thing he said. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

    Roger looks to you, and bites his bottom lip. “If– Well, if you want to, then, um, yes, I’d like you to. But only if you want to.”

    You beam, and your heart triples in size. “Um, yes. I’d like to.”

    Roger smiles back. “Good. Great. That’s–” He clears his throat. “Did you want to have a shower?”

    “I think so,” you say with a laugh. “I’m…” You went to say I’m so disgusting right now, but you don’t want to fuck up your now-sleepover before it’s even properly begun. “Yes please.”

    “Well, you know where the bathroom is,” Roger says, nodding towards the en suite. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer, if I remember correctly. I’ll get you a towel.”

    “You’re not coming into the shower with me?” you ask coyly.

    Roger blinks, and you laugh.

    “Oh,” he says. “You were joking.”

    “I wasn’t,” you say. “You just made me laugh.”

    Roger swoops down to steal a kiss, and you don’t let him leave, pushing up into him, stealing a few kisses back.

    “Let me get you a towel,” he says, and then climbs off the bed and pads out of the room.

    You bite on your finger to stop yourself from making some stupid giggle, or maybe a dumb squealing sound like a little girl. He asked you to stay the night. He wants you to stay the night.

    Oh, shit, you realise, your finger dropping from your mouth. Justine. You never told her what was happening.

    Where’s your phone? In the living room. Spitting out a curse, you pull on your underwear and Roger’s shirt again, and hurry out. You run into Roger, arms full of sheets, in the hallway. “Hey, is everything all right?” he says. “What did you forget?”

    “I never told my roommate I wasn’t coming home,” you say. “Last she heard, I was about to book an Uber.”

    Roger’s eyes go a little wider. “Shit, whoops. Yeah, go tell her.”

    You shoot him a smile, and scurry off to the living room. Your phone is on the couch, and you snatch it up. Wow, shit, it is late. You’re glad you only have an afternoon lecture tomorrow.

    Thankfully, just one message from Justine, from about half an hour ago. hey, haven’t heard from u in a while. just send me a message when u get this ok? xx

    You respond. fuck sorry, left my phone in the other room. I have SO MUCH to tell u omg, but in a nutshell uhh we ended up sleeping together, it was fucking amazing, and now he’s asked me to stay over, so ill see u at uni tomorrow maybe? if not then at home xx

    You keep your phone in hand, and head back to Roger’s room. He’s started cleaning up in the minute you were gone, stripping the bed. Fresh sheets sit on the floor. “What’s this?” you ask.

    “I’m making the bed,” Roger says simply, tugging a pillow from its case. “I’m too old to be sleeping on sheets I’ve just had sex on. Let me tell you, it makes a difference. And the sheets were due for a change, anyway.”

    You step forward. “Well, let me help.”

    “Don’t be silly, jump in the shower.”

    “Don’t tell me what to do.” You set your phone down beside his on the bedside table, and together the two of you help remake his bed.

    Roger chases you into the shower then, and says he’s going to tidy up the room a little more before he joins you. “I’m on a roll now,” he says, picking up your shoes from where you kicked them aside during the bed-making. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

    You take the make-up wipes. The door is about halfway open, and you can hear Roger moving around, hear when he trips over something and hisses out a curse, making you smile.

    The make-up wipe freezes in the air near your eye. You can’t very well have a shower and go to bed without taking your make-up off – it does not make even a vague semblance of a pretty picture – but this is… way more intimate than you were expecting. Why didn’t you think of this when you agreed to stay over? Roger’s going to see you without your make-up on, with your hair tied up in a bun. He’s going to see you in the morning, all bleary-eyed and disgusting. Fuck, morning breath. You have the spare clothes you brought that you can change into tomorrow, but no extra underwear. Nothing to wear tonight. It’s a miracle that Roger even has a spare toothbrush. What time does he get up for work? Will he expect you to leave before he wakes up?

    Are you a one-night-stand? Is that what this is? Are you asked to stay the night if you’re nothing but a one-night-stand, or does the fact that he asked you mean something else?

    “Is your roommate all right?” Roger asks, coming to the door, leaning against the doorjamb. “No freak-outs?”

    You lower the make-up wipe. “Um, no. It’s all fine, I think.”

    “Have you found the toothbrush?”

    “No, I haven’t checked yet.”

    Roger moves around you, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through. “Ah, here it is. Still in the packet! How good am I?”

    You smile as he presents it to you like it’s a medal of honour. “Thanks.”

    “Sorry about the make-up wipes,” Roger says. “They’re not great.” He huffs, and then leans against the edge of the sink, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m… I’m actually really nervous.”

    Your eyebrows shoot up. “Nervous?” you repeat. “About what?”

    “About… you staying over,” he confesses. “It’s been, I don’t know, ten years since I’ve had anyone new sleep over. My brain is suddenly filled with every annoying thing I do when I sleep. And I look awful in the mornings, let me tell you. If you think I look bad now, just you wait.”

    “Who says I think you look bad now?” you say. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I think you’re a hot piece of ass, Roger.”

    Roger splutters, flustered, and you grin.

    “I move around a lot,” he says. “When I sleep. So be prepared to cop an elbow to the face.”

    “Don’t you worry, I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say. “And I move around, too.”

    “I run hot,” Roger adds. “I’m like a space heater. And sometimes I talk in my sleep, but only when I’m really stressed about something, like work. I can be really very clingy.”

    “I run cold,” you say with a shrug. “So clingy suits me fine.”

    Roger pauses, staring at you, like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Then he snaps out of it, glancing away. “Sorry,” he says for a third time.

    “Don’t apologise,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to. I’m nervous, too. Like, really fucking nervous. I’m– I’m too nervous to even take my make-up off.”

    Roger’s eyes search your face. “I won’t care what you look like,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that you feel nervous about taking it off. But it won’t matter, I promise.”

    “Just wait and see,” you joke in a sing-song voice.

    Roger is silent for a few moments, and then he says, “Well, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to kiss the bloody daylight out of you when you take it off.”

    You don’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to do that.”

    “I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable without make-up on. And if that means I have to keep kissing you all night as a reminder that it doesn’t matter what you look like without make-up, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

    You duck your head, making a disgruntled sound. Why does he have to say cute shit like that? Why must he make you suffer?

    Roger pushes the packet of make-up wipes a little closer to you, waggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle, and then reaches across you for his toothbrush.

    You start wiping off your make-up.

    Roger waits until you’ve finished taking it off, until you’ve brushed your teeth, until you’re well and truly left without anything to do, and then he cups your face in his hands and does exactly what he promised he’d do.

    One steamy make-out session and one far-too-long shower later, you’re sitting on the newly-made bed, wrapping in a towel, the strands of hair that slipped loose from your bun sticking to your neck and temples. You’re watching Roger pull on a pair of underwear and rifle through his chest of drawers. He pulls out a huge shirt, clearly worn and well-loved, and turns to you, holding it out. “I went on a day trip once to Brighton,” he says. “We were out to a pub and I spilled red wine all over my shirt. Had to buy a new one. Sent one of my mates to get it for me and he came back with this. Hence why I have a shirt about five sizes too big for me.”

    “You didn’t have to explain,” you say with a chuckle, taking it from him.

    “I feel like I did,” Roger says. “I, um, usually use it as a sleep shirt when I travel.”

    You slip it on, and then stand up, letting your towel drop to the floor. The shirt is long enough to cover everything, but you’re not about to bend down any time soon.

    You glance over at your underwear, where they’re in a pile near the door. Should you put them back on?

    “Please don’t,” Roger blurts.

    You look to him. “Huh?”

    His face goes red. “Um. I just– I– You– I saw you look over there, and–” He rubs his hand along his jaw. “I, um…” He looks to the ceiling, and says it in a rush. “I’m sorry this sounds awful but I saw you looking over at your knickers and I don’t want you to put them on because you look really hot wearing my shirt and the thought of you wearing nothing underneath makes my brain explode.”

    “You’re one to talk,” you say, “standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of boxers like that doesn’t make my brain explode.”

    Roger’s eyes flick towards yours, and he breaks out into a smile, and then laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

    “We’ll be truly even when I see you wearing my clothes,” you say teasingly.

    Roger steps in close, his hands coming to your waist. “I don’t think your dress would fit properly, love.”

    “I’ll have to come better prepared next time,” you say, and Roger hums, leaning in to give you a kiss.

    Next time. Next time. You said ‘next time’. Talk about presumptuous. Christ! What is wrong with you?

    You break away. “Not that I think there’ll be a next time,” you say quickly. No. Bad phrasing. “I don’t want to assume there’ll be a next time.” Still bad. “I don’t want you to think that I think there has to be a next time.” Even worse. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to have a next time if you don’t want there to be.” Better. Not great, but passable.

    “I want a next time,” Roger says. “If you want one.”

    “I do,” you say, God, far too eager. “I’d really like there to be a next time.”

    “Me too,” Roger says.

    You press into him for another kiss, and then, finally, the two of you make it to bed.

    Once you’re under the covers, you almost fall asleep immediately. You didn’t realise how exhausted you are. Roger reaches over and switches off the light, and then wraps an arm around your stomach, his front against your spine. You allow yourself to smile freely in the dark, even as your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

                                                      ~~~

    “I’m… I’m going to send you the rest of the payment,” Roger says. He’s dressed for work, just in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and you’d been admiring him and enjoying the coffee he’d made you after you’d gotten out of the shower. It’s early – too early, for both of you.

    But now your stomach drops, and you lower your mug of coffee from your lips. “You are?”

    “Yes,” Roger says.

    “You don’t have to,” you say. “I said it last night, I don’t care about the money.”

    “I know,” Roger says. “But it’s still right. You started this whole thing to help pay the bills, and it’s not your fault that there was that whole mix-up. You don’t deserve to miss out on getting the money you’ve rightfully earned.”

    “You don’t deserve to fork out that much money because of that whole mix-up,” you say. “You’ve already paid half of it. And it’s– it’s quite a fair bit, Roger.”

    “I can afford to pay it,” Roger says. “I’m living more than comfortably. Giving you the money you’ve earned would just mean that I can’t, I don’t know, travel overseas this year.” He raises his eyebrows a touch. “Well, now that I might not have to be paying for three kids as well, maybe I’ll still be able to afford to go.” He shakes his head. “That’s beside the… My point is, I can afford it. And you deserve it.”

    You don’t know what to say. “Roger…”

    “Just let me,” he says earnestly. “Please. I want to.”

    You open and close your mouth a few times. God, you’d be mad to turn down the money. But it doesn’t feel right. Does it? You don’t even know what to think.

    You glance down at your mug. “All right,” you say quietly, so much so that you’re not even sure if he can hear you. But you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. “Thank you, Roger.”

    “Hey.”

    You look up at him, and he smiles. “You can pay me back by letting me take you out to dinner.”

    Your face immediately grows hot. “Suave motherfucker,” you say, and he laughs.

    “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says playfully.

    Your stomach squeezes. “Sure,” you say. “But I’m paying.”

    Roger snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

    “I’ll fight you for the cheque, don’t think I won’t.”

    “Maybe I’ll just sneakily pay for it before you’ve even realised.”

    You narrow your eyes at him. “Can we settle on going Dutch?”

    Roger sips his coffee. “All right,” he says eventually.

    “Good.”

    He takes out his phone, holding it out to you. “Text me some time during this week,” he says. “About where you want to go. Or just text me if you want to say hi. Or call me. Y’know, whatever.”

    You tilt your head to the side as you take his phone. “That wasn’t quite as suave, I have admit.”

    Roger sighs. “Damn.”

    You laugh, and send a quick text to yourself, then slide the phone back to him.

    He seems extremely pleased, but he takes a casual drink from his coffee like he’s trying to hide it, and you can’t help but think it’s horribly cute.

    He shoots a glance at you, and sees you grinning at him, and his cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat, turning away to the sink to rinse his mug out.

                                                      ~~~

    You’re at uni, half-asleep, shuffling back to the bus stop after your never-ending lecture, when Justine barrels into you, grabbing your elbow so tightly that you yelp. “What the fuck happened last night?” she exclaims.

    You don’t know why it hadn’t been awkward this morning. Apart from the money conversation. There had still been some nervousness, on your part anyway, but Roger had been too focused on getting ready for work to let any uncomfortable silences hang. You have to admit that it had been nice to wake up with someone’s arm around you, and you had been quietly delighted to see Roger fussing over the faint bruises on his neck, pulling up his shirt collar and adjusting his tie to try to cover them. After you’d both gotten ready for the day, he’d dropped you at the nearest bus stop. “And I will text you,” he’d said seriously. “Don’t think I won’t.”

    “Good,” you’d said. “I’ll be waiting for it. Three days is the general rule, right?”

    Roger had groaned. “Don’t make me wait three days.”

    You had chuckled. “I’m not making you do anything.” You’d hesitated, and then said, “Is it weird if I kiss you before I go?”

    Roger had taken a breath. “I… wouldn’t say so, no.”

    So you’d leant in and kissed him, and he’d kissed you back, and you’d wanted to keep kissing him, but a car had pulled up behind you and honked, so you’d drawn back, whispered, “Bye,” and gotten out of the car.

    Once you’d figured out how to get home, you’d crashed, sleeping until your alarm had woken you up again for your lecture.

    “Stuff,” you say to Justine.

    “Stuff?” Justine squawks. “Don’t give me that shit. You have to tell me literally everything, or I’m going to kill you. Come on.” She loops her arm through yours, and starts towing you towards the bus stop.

    Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket.

    I know it hasn’t been three days, but it’s been more than three hours. Is that enough time, do you think?

    You smile, reply, I think so, yeah, then quickly pocket the phone before Justine can sneak a glance as Amazonian butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

[robertsbarbie]

I would love to hear your thoughts of tswift. But I also understand that people will take it personally and attack you. But I have a very strong feeling we would have similar opinions on the mix of good and bad. ❤️

yes of course! my brain is kinda mush so this won’t be very coherent or whatever but alakaljskd and yeah i am not afraid of being attacked by swifties been there done that have the mental scars and old blog to prove it so. i’m going to try and break it up into parts for my own braincell

also i wnat to state before we start i don’t hate taylor swift, i just get annoyed by things but they’re genuinely my own issue and this isn’t me trying to make woke insights about her just things i’ve said before more organized? i guess

and i know i talk about my opinions here but i hope everyone knows that my inbox is a safe space to air your thoughts and feelings on the matter of her or swifties. i’ll never post something i know will hurt people but i know there aren’t many outlets to discuss

swifties

probably the thing that bothers me the most is the fans, i’m not talking about casual fans i’m not even talking about a good portion of the tumblr fans but there is a serious problem with boundaries and entitlement and harassment in the fandom. i don’t expect taylor swift to comment on everything, really anything, her fans do because lord knows i would not pay half a braincell to some of the things people say if i had as much money as her but i think a majority of fans have gotten to comfortable in the way they treat taylor as a commodity. it only got worse when she left tumblr because now instead of only self reblogging for that semblance of friendship people are STILL harassing and doxxing other swifties that they blame for her absence, even harassing op of the post tm because they feel entitled to taylors attention which is?? gross?? and i understand built her platform on fan connection and having tumblr as that hideaway but i think she let it spin to a point where her online presence is more important than the lives of minorities. not to mention how much drama that occurs and not like “haha THIS is the best song” or “you don’t chomp ice???” but shit that actually hurts peoples feelings as well as takes big tolls on the mental health of swifties when it spirals to the point hours into it where people start to fught back and be like “actually..” (TO BE CLEAR THIS DOES NOT INCLUDE DISCUSSIONS ABOUT LGBTQ+PHOBIA OF ANY KIND, THE DISCRIMINATION AGAINST PEOPLE OF COLOR, OR ANY REAL LIFE FALACIES THAT PUT PEOPLE’S LIVLIHOODS AT STAKE)

activism

i’m sorry but i don’t believe taylor swift is fully trying to be the activist she wants to be as seen in Miss Americana. the post tm was maybe a bit too far but poc should not have been begging for taylor to say anything and she shouldn’t have responded in a begrudging way. she needs to speak up when rights are being taken away from lgbtq+ people not just celebrating the wins. and i’m sorry but her efforts in the senate election (?) a couple years ago was far more than the effort she put into this election. and the thing is it wouldn’t annoy me as much if she didn’t release Miss Americana, before it was the simple “she has a platform she should use it” but after it was her committing to that platform and she just didn’t follow through. and i understand the issue of wanting to be educated but reblogging/ reposting links and ways to support minorities doesn’t require a degree in wokeness, it’s literally just the bare minimum. and i just think there have been some tone deaf or oversights on her part but i know she’s trying it just,,, again a personal thing i have an issue with.

money

i understand we live in a capitalist society but it really really annoys me how outrageous the pricing is on her store. i honestly thought it was getting better in the lover era and then folklore drops, in the middle of a pandemic, and the prices are insane, not to mention how a lot of the stuff is poor quality and takes an asinine amount of time to be delivered and THEN a lot of the packages get lost or ruined outside of the us and like?? the shipping and offers already screw over international fans there’s not even the decency to have a way to track the package and a coherent support center ? idk it bugs me, as well as the 48 limited edition sales cause again,,,,, middle of the pandemic

music

okay i need to state right now: THIS IS A PERSONAL ONE AND ACTUALLY HAS NOTBING TO DO WITH TAYLOR HERSELF AND MORE THE FANS

i really like taylor’s music, i’m not going to act like i don’t. i can’t think about how many times it’s saved me and how many connections i’ve made to it and helped me to connect to things. i love her music, i think she’s the perfect song writer in the hooks she writes and the melodies and messages. she’s insanely talented and one of the greats and she makes sures to uplift other artists as well which a lot of popular artists really struggle with.

but i’m not gonna lie alakalsjjdjf the way some people reacted to folklore drove me up a wall. i LOVE that she’s branching out she literally made my ideal sad low melody album and literally obsessed. but it annoyed me so much the way people talked about it like it was this holy thing when i KNOW that a lot of people typically call that type of music boring, like taylor swift is an incredible songwriter but there are so many unbelievably talented small artists who write incredible intricate sad lyrics that tell a story but they’re constantly pushed aside. i made a more coherent post when folklore first tackle out cause i cant stand fake love of things (i know a lot of people were genuine! but i also know people who were just saying that because it was taylor) and i think people do that often with her music, compare it to others and completely drag other artists down?? and for what? basically my biggest issue here is she always has to be the best at the expense of everyone else being the worst which isn’t how anything works alakaksjjd

misc.

i straight up don’t have anything else to say except i think people should be allowed to dislike taylor swift. this probably isn’t even everything that bugs me about the sphere surrounding her (not nessecarily her herself) but sometimes if people aren’t hurting anyone they’re allowed to dislike things. i know it’s a trend to hate things girls enjoy (which literally if that’s why you hate her fuck off) but i think that too often in her case no opinion is the wrong and bad opinion

closing statements

i love taylor swift’s music i’m never going to deny the impact she’s had on my life the friends i’ve made because of her and even i look up to her in aspects, the way she helped fans during quarantine and continues to support causes important to fans ect. i have no personal vendetta with her.

that being said being involved with her fandom is terrible for my mental health. the “why have i never been noticed” the constant analysis of her music and if you interpret one way that isn’t the general consensus you’re wrong the constant theories the constant drama the pressure of existing with swifties is just too much i can’t do it. and if i have to distance myself from that by making it seem i flat out don’t like her than so be it. at the end of the day i don’t know her she doesn’t know me but the perception of the fandom and public is very real and so. yeah.

** also yeah this has spelling mistakes i don’t give a fuck

[evilwickedme]

I know we're not supposed to care about being good or bad jews, but can I ask? I'm scared to even mention I live in israel because last time I mentioned something I was harassed and accused of not caring about others. Just for stating what country I live in. I wanted to reblog a meme about Israel being filled with cats, and I relate to that because cats are everywhere, but I was scared to be harassed again. I blocked all the tags but I still see this everywhere. Do you have like, any advice?

Right so I guess this answer is gonna be complicated and simple at the same time? cause I’m obviously very open about living in Israel but like, relatively to how long I’ve been on the website - cause I joined tumblr in 2010, which is a full decade ago - I spent most of my time on here not being open about it and not talking about. Like if you paid attention you might notice that I was mutuals with a lot of Israelis who are people I know in real life (@thelordofthecats is one of my best friends, for example, and he has being Israeli in his bio) but my blog was tiny and nobody was really paying attention. I think I had managed to gain 400 followers or so by 2017, which is when I really exploded by joining jumblr and I had several relatively viral posts getting hundreds if not thousands of notes per day for a while there. And the thing is I wasn’t outspoken about being Israeli because I had a friend in high school who had several thousand followers and was actively harassed for months at a time for being Israeli and I just didn’t want to bring that attention to me. I often just plain delete controversial statements and honestly I’m not that shy about it because if I don’t agree with something I said why should I keep it up and have people come at me with “receipts” over something I don’t agree with or even just generally leads to people having so called ammo against me? So for a long time I was avoiding conflict altogether. But once I stopped avoiding conflict and became very, very outspoken about antisemitism - basically in response to CDM and the Jewish pride flag issue, and that feels like ages ago, but that was what brought me into the jumblr sphere for good - there was no real reason to hide the fact that I’m Israeli because I was already inviting trouble as is and I might as well be clear about my position as someone who lives where I live and how that obviously influences my opinions.

And okay this is clearly a bit of a wall of text but my point is that I didn’t so much choose to divulge that I was Israeli as much as there was no longer any point to hide it. If I was going to get messages telling me to burn in an oven anyway there was no real difference if it came because my parents decided to have me here and not in the States or because I dare to be Jewish, period. And a lot of that has calmed down recently - I’m not nearly as active as I was in 2017-2018, not just in jumblr but in general, as a combination of me really getting into fandoms such as TMA that go on my sideblog @queerastronauts rather than this one and of university really kicking my ass and working basically whenever not studying, so I’m not really getting any attention except for once in a while having someone reblog an old post of mine and it getting a dozen notes or so before dying off, whether in a positive or negative light (mostly positive light, thank God). But I can’t, like, go back in the closet about being Israeli - people know now, there are 2,145 of you who follow me and most of you followed me during my intense jumblr phase - so I’m sort of stuck with it now.

So, uh, I guess it’s just weighing your risks. Say what you will about tumblr, I do think that the culture has shifted over the last couple of years towards unfollowing or blocking people we don’t like instead of getting into pointless arguments with them. Or at least, that’s what I see in my personal sphere. If I see someone posting antizionist or exclusionist or whatever content I don’t agree with I just unfollow them and then I’m done with it. And if you’re a big blog, you have to weigh the risks. Big blogs tend to get hate no matter what - someone once reblogged a post of mine and called me out for being a Taylor Swift fan, of all things, and like, if that’s the worst you got against me, I’m not really bothered. So you have to decide whether or not you’re willing to also get hate for this. And it’s a pro-con situation but the truth is you don’t want the virulent antisemitic antizionists following you anyway (I’m not saying all antizionists are antisemitic, chill, I’m talking about a specific yet undeniably common type of antizionists).

Also, if you reblog that meme about the cats in Israel I posted which is honestly objectively hilarious, that’s not the same as coming out as Israeli anyway, because it’s enough for you to know someone in Israel or have visited Israel to know that’s true.

Also, if someone is being a dick towards you, point them towards me, and I will F I T E T H E M

[atldiscourse]

So, I just wanna start off by saying I am really happy that I found your blog Rebecca & even happier that you were on CTL and have your “face down ass up” story featured there! I’m not sure how I even found your blog, but I’m glad I did because we share a lot of similiar opinons and similarities. OKAY, so my opinions….a lot of my opinions have to do with All Time Low as members, but mostly how they have progressed over the year and how the culture their fans have and how they perpetuate it.

I like you was a fan of ATL when I was younger, middle-high school and I loved and worshipped them. But recently since the pandemic and the WUS era, I rejoined the online community and with that I explored the fandom. I felt really surprised to see how intense fan culture has gotten. Like “simping” is basically fangirling but everything just seems wayyy more intense than it was about 5-7 years ago. 

I was also SHOCKED to see how many YOUNG fans there were. There are 15 year olds out there “simping” for Jack Barakat. I have found that people who are 10 years younger than me try to be more PC and speak out against horrible things that happen. So, I find it really ironic that young fans will “stan” Jack no matter what and yet NO ONE wants to call him out on these allegations because they love him so much. 

I feel like as we get older, you need to be able to form a more critical opinion of the people you “idolise” and their behaviours. I wish more fans were able to move on from a band they loved when they were younger and not keep buying merch and continuing this cycle of fan culture, which I find completely toxic. I have to have ALL THE VINYLS, ALL THE CDS ALL THE SHIRTS in order to be a good ATL stan? The person I love will NEVER do anything wrong because I’m a “this person stan” NO. 

If you genuinely love them, just love them, don’t waste your money and speak out when you see them doing inappropriate or shitty behaviour. Better yet, stop idolising them, because they’re just a group of (mostly) white men in their 30s. I also think Jack should address these allegations or make some kind of statement and apology. Alex constantly has to cover his ass on CTL from saying inappropriate things and it’s gotten to the point where I think Jack needs to man up and take ownership over himself.

I have heard from fans “well if someone flashes them in a crowd they don’t know if that fan is underage”, but shouldn’t they know a lot of their fanbase is younger? And maybe if Jack hadn’t had this whole “sexual, dick joke” persona in the first place, girls would not feel the need to flash them to get his attention. I find the whole thing overtly sexualized and I find it so sad that girls idolise this man. I wish they idolised strong powerful women instead of some dude.

I think Alex is the most well-spoken out of all the band. I do appreciate all of them using their platform to talk about politics, and I do think it’s genuine…just inconsistent. I’m not saying they have to speak out about everything all the time, but in June Alex kept commenting about Breanna Taylor and BLM and it just felt like he was talking about it because everyone was. 

The police recently weren’t convicted for her murder and Alex hasn’t said anything. I’m not saying that he has to, I’m just saying, I feel like he talked about it because it was the hot button issue at the time. And that goes for everyone, not just Alex. Society and people in general stopped talking about the BLM movement after the “hype” died down. Alex also has thanked the fans for keeping him informed and educated and I think he’s referring to a lot of PC things, but also, he should educate himself, in my opinion. It’s not a certain communities or groups job to educate the cis white man about about their struggles. 

Overall, I just feel like as I’ve gotten older I’ve realised that I’ve outgrown people I used to love, because I haven’t seen a whole lot of depth or maturity or critical thinking from them. OH and this just pisses me off. On CTL they do the whole “good boys give bad advice segment” and they make a disclaimer every time we don’t know what we’re doing, but ALEX SAID we want you to tell us your problems!

So people write in with more emotional and serious problems and I know many fans write to them about mental health struggles, but these men in their 30s-40s are not licensed professionals and cannot really help you. I just hate that segment and originally it was fun just sharing content but idk why Alex wanted to give advice when it’s not serious because fans I think take it more seriously.

Along the political lines, I have huge issue with the fact that they aren’t quarantining. Even though they said they did and I believe they did back in the spring, now they’re acting like it’s not a big deal. They’re traveling. And I get that restrictions have been made less strict, but I have seen other celebrities take it super seriously and not even leave their homes. They have the money and the means, they don’t ned to leave just because they miss making music. I get it but life could be worse. 

And don’t even get me started on Rian…it’s not really problematic or offensive it’s just BAD TASTE. Oh and musically, I don’t think I’ve ever really loved them since Don’t Panic, because overall I feel the albums have lost their ATL essence, but that being said they do have a few really good jams off of each record.

If you read this in full, thank you, Rebecca. I wrote this full of emotion so it may be a hot mess, but I hope I made some decent points. SENDING YOU LOVE!

_________________________________

this was so long but an excellent read. thanks so much for sending all this in! some hot takes but i generally agree with everything - jack needs to take accountability, dp was their last solid album, i hate that they’re not self isolating... we’re on the same wavelength here lol

[readersguidetotheuniverse]

Folie a Trois: a group read of... More Than Maybe by Erin Hahn

The supporting characters

Ariadna: From Zack to Meg, Phil to Marcus... I really liked that the supporting characters had background and depth... for a YA romance novel, that it is. Ok, they are not the deepest, most exceptional characters –they are a little bit stereotyped, and everything is sooo rose-coloured tinted–, but I appreciate how the relationships between them are depicted and how every one of them has their own unique quirks and background story. Nevertheless, I must add... I think Hahn’s attempt to make all the characters these goody-two-shoes has made some characters sort of a decaf version of what they should realistically be, see Charlie Greenly, Phil Josephs, Cullen... At times they were so soft they became even boring to me. I understand Hahn’s religious views, but honestly, no one is that good.

Alicia: I liked the supporting characters quite a lot, actually, all of them. In many young adult novels you find rather flat secondary characters that only exist to complement the main characters, but not in this one. All of them were complex, with their own defined personalities and their own stories. There were a few moments when I got a bit irritated by someone's actions, Cullen uploading Luke's song behind his back, for example. But real people are flawed and make mistakes so it's only fair that fictional characters do, too. 

Marina: First off, I have to say I loved all the secondary characters. I have to agree with Ariadna though, they are not overly deep but they get you right on the feels. I especially enjoyed seeing the different relationships between them –Zach and Cullen <3–. To be honest I found it a bit frustrating that they all kept telling Vada how amazing she is and how well she’s doing but it takes Luke, a person whom she’s officially met recently, to stand up to her dead-beat father. Talking about fathers, Phil is an amazing father figure and I’m really glad he at least encouraged Vada to follow her dreams. On a side note, can I just say that the first time I read about Cullen and Zach I pictured a more lanky version of Emmett Cullen dating Zeke (from high School Musical)? And that’s why I found it hilariously amusing when they started talking about Teen Wolf. Whatever happened to those DVDs?!

The ‘Bad Apple’ club aka Charlie Greenly

Ariadna: We all grasp to certain extent how business —corporate, big-money businesses— work, and it is understandable Charlie’s nasty partners took advantage of a teen’s rage burst, but, oh, man, how it bothered me when they tried to ruin poor Phil’s fund-raiser... What bothered me the most, though, is how Charlie Greenly was that blind, how he couldn’t see, beyond his own interests, how important the Loud Lizard was for Luke, his friends and for Ann Arbor, or to what extent the whole ‘Break for You’ issue bothered his own son. I honestly think his heroic act at the end doesn’t quite redeem him of the harm he has done. Besides, Charlie was supposed to be a Punk-rock star... What’s really left of that personality? Has her wife and kids completely transformed him into a dull wimp? Not quite believable, this character is. 

Alicia: Charlie made me so mad at him that sometimes I wanted to throw the book across the room. I understand parents always think they know best, it's in their parent DNA. But it was really frustrating and irritating how he kept trying to get Luke to do whatever he wanted, without considering what his son actually wanted. He kept trying to convince Luke to do something he had stated time and time he didn't want to do and was not going to do. He used him for his own interests and treated him kinda badly just cause he didn't fit with his own expectations for him. Realistic as it could be for most people, it's still shitty. It's almost cathartic how he redeems himself at the end by quitting Bad Apple to support his son but that doesn't change his shitty behavior towards Luke during most of the novel. 

Marina: I mean Charlie didn’t seem the brightest of the Greenly family, to be honest. I think he should probably listen to his sons more (and his wife). I find it hard to believe he didn’t know what he was getting into. He was a famous punk-rocker at a time where you had to be clever and sharp-witted, like, is he smart enough to stay away from hard drugs and keep his career afloat (and later become an accomplished music producer) but not know how to choose business partners? Apparently. And talking about his previous life as a punk-star… Can he stop trying to live his life through Luke? It finally dawned on him in the end, yes, but throughout the book Luke (and later Cullen) explicitly told him he didn’t want to be famous, it doesn’t excuse his behaviour!

Soundtrack

Ariadna: While some of the tracks on this book’s OST are not my cup of tea (see Demi and Taylor), I must confess: I’ve been listening to TøP the whole week. Hahn got me at Car Radio *shrugs*. Working in the book industry, I’ve always felt books, when possible, should offer something extra. I really love that this book, even more considering it is addressed to teens and YA, offers this little something to connect it to the readers’ real world, to make the story even more realistic. I think it is a loss that the book itself doesn’t include a QR code or a link to a playlist itself, but it is an easy search away in Spotify, thanks to some nice reader that has already put it up!

Alicia: I just had this one little issue with the music/artists mentioned in the novel: Vada hates Stevie Nicks and consequently I hate Vada. There won't be any hate towards Stevie Nicks in my presence. She is an excellent artist and I will not hear otherwise. Other than that I actually loved how important music in general is in the novel and how many real actual songs are shared along the story. I expected to find mostly alternative/indie bands so there was no surprise there. And music can tell a lot about someone so it was interesting to see the music Luke and Vada listen to, to understand them better. Also it was really nice to get so many songs in so many different styles to actually discover new songs myself. I'm really happy about how music really does play an important part in the book. 

Marina: I’ve mentioned I like it when authors add their little soundtracks to the books but this one goes far beyond that. You get to listen to the songs throughout the characters’ actions and feelings and the music is not only an add-on but it becomes part of the plot. Which, granted, it’s a book about a girl who writes reviews about bands and a boy that writes songs, how can music not be part of the book? But it goes beyond the “here’s a song that inspired this chapter/book/scene” to a basic subplot. Coincidentally, we all looked up different songs on Spotify because we hadn’t heard them before and we found a playlist made by a reader, we hope you enjoy it too!

Vada and Luke’s relationship

Ariadna: It is interesting to read a YA romance novel in which the main action doesn’t revolve 100% around the romance. It is way healthier than most: both Vada and Luke have clear goals and motivations that are not biased by their relationship, they motivate and encourage each other, there is no narcissistic chauvinist - submissive flower dynamics going on —thank the gods–, and they are supercute and honest with themselves. However —I always have one of these–, it is still a naive teen relationship, mostly in terms of the plotting and the writing. Surprisingly —see the irony— they both have had crushes on each other for years, but they haven’t acted upon it until now. They NEVER fail, get mad, do any bad deeds... ANYTHING. Are they even teenagers? Honestly, I hate when the characters in a book are these holier-than-thou perfection vessels. Added to the not-really-that-big-of-a-deal problems (what happened with the instagram issue? What about Vada’s funds for college? They don’t even really get *really* mad because of the Bad Apple thingy...), they feel kind of bland and not too realistic for my tastes. 

Alicia: At the beginning I thought it was a bit rushed, how quickly they trusted each other considering they had barely interacted before. Even if they had a crush on the other that doesn't mean they actually knew that person, not really. As they spent more time together and got to know each other, their relationship evolved pretty organically and naturally, to a point when it just made sense. It was really cute to see how they got closer through awkward encounters and how their passion for music helped them connect and relate to the other. Having read many young adult romances, it gets old very fast. The stories get kinda predictable and hard to believe. This one also had some predictable moments, almost all of them do, but overall it was a really nice love story, one I could actually believe. 

Marina: To be honest, I expected this book to be less about the music and more about the relationship between Luke and Vada. I think what Erin Hahn accomplished in this book is to show a much more mature relationship than I expected. I thought this would be your typical YA-Romance with a lot of drama and kissing, but instead I got a slow-burn story (so slow, it felt like moving through molasses) with depth, insecurities and, yes, drama. I think both these characters are more mature than expected on a YA romance novel and it was surprisingly refreshing. You still get some teenage-y sub-plots, i.e. the prom or even the 15-minutes of fame; but it doesn’t take away from the blossoming relationship between Luke and Vada.

The Grass is Greenly and Behind the Music 

Ariadna: I must be growing too old for this s**t, but I don’t get the whole podcast/blog thing. I get it, social networking does this kind of thing: turning a nobody into an internet sensation in a matter of days, but... I agree with Alicia, it is too much of a coincidence (one of the deus-ex-machina I so much hate) that both the main characters are internet-known... in a blog, nonetheless! Maybe Hahn could have used precisely this internet presence to make Vada and Luke meet each other, instead of the too-worn-out high-school cliché. And Marina has made me think... maybe some interludes as Cullen’s podcasts, letting us know some behind-the-scenes gossip (The Lindsay issue, Luke and Vada’s first kiss becoming viral, and so on...), would have spiced up the novel a bit more.

Alicia: Okay here's the part I just didn't believe and kind of threw me off a bit. What are the chances of a music blog and a podcast, both run by teenagers of the same age in the same city in the same bar, becoming really popular and actually viral. Who even reads blogs anymore anyway? (Says while writing in a blog). It was just quite hard to believe so many people read Behind the Music that even ROLLING STONE became interested. Yeah sure this extremely known successful music magazine wants a fresh out of high school blogger to work for them. And then the podcast. What could two teens have to say to have a podcast so popular that when Cullen uploads Luke's song it literally gets millions of reproductions and attracts attention everywhere. And both of them being run by two people working in the same place, going to the same high school… the world is not actually that small. Sorry it's just kind of extremely unrealistic and didn't particularly like that part. 

Marina: Seeing the “behind-the-scenes” of the day to day of a podcast was very interesting. I guess it would have been better if Cullen told the story as he is the one that does most of the work. Also, how did they get that famous? Is it just because of their dad? I don’t really get it. On the other side, I find it incredibly unbelievable that a teenage girl has that much input on a music blog that isn’t even hers and gets to go to concerts and stuff like that. I get that Phil is a cool guy but how come the blog is so famous and he doesn’t really care about it or mentions it much during the book besides sending Vada places? I just don’t understand that.

Overall

Ariadna: Honestly, I’m not one for YA romance novels, I think I’ve outgrown them by far, and they usually bore me. That said, this book has surprised me for good. It is a light read, doesn’t follow the genre clichés, it doesn’t make everything revolve around the main characters’ love interest, the supporting characters have personalities of their own and it has a wide-ranged well-put playlist, which I think is great for teens and young adults to read. I particularly didn’t like the religious issues coming up from time to time, but, overall, this is the best written book of the three we’ve already read for Folie a Trois, and that’s a lot to say! 

Alicia: Overall it was a really cute book. Initially it took me a while to get into it cause the plot wasn't exactly what I thought it would be, that was a tad disappointing. But then once you begin knowing the characters and they begin to know each other as well it's quite captivating and easy and quick to read. I really enjoyed the love story, I loved how diverse the characters are and how they interacted. I really like how the plot develops, too. If you're looking for a soft, cute, easy enjoyable read I definitely recommend this one. 

Marina: As most YA books that I read, it was entertaining but it didn't change my life. I really did like Vada and Luke's relationship, as I said I find it more mature for this genre; the music was a big highlight and the drama wasn't overwhelmingly dumb (as is the case in some other books). Overall a good book for summer and a light read for any other season ;)

[popculturebuffet]

Mickey and the Roadster Racers: “Mickey’s Perfecto Day” and “Daisy’s Grande Goal” review or “I think i’m going out of my headcold”

Saludos Amigos!  I”ve been sick, and as such have had no energy or state of mind to continue my look at every apperance of the CABs in the us, concluding with a look at every episode of legend of the three caballeros. 

And today’s stop is one i’m only passingly familiar with: Mickey and the Roadster Racers. MATRR.. wait really that’s what it spells?

No Larry the Cable guy on this blog thank you.  Anyways, Roadster Racers is surprisingly complicated for such a simple show. For starters it’s the successor to “Mickey Mouse’s Club House” another CGI Disney Junior show, Disney’s equivalent to Nick Jr because their clever like that. And to continue the theme of ripping off other properties, the show was Disney’s stab at following the big fake interactivity craze started by Dora the Explorer. And it’s annoying as that sounds with a lot of pasues and an annoying recurring hot dog song that’s obnoxiously catchy. It was mostly just slice of life shenanigans with the mickey mouse crew and when retoolling it they decided to drop the now dated fake interactivity, turn up the slice of life and add some of those nitro burning funny cars vroom vroom. IN a sense genral g rated soft boiled mickey shenanigans with a racing theme. 

Not a terrible series but not terribly intresting hence why i’ve never covered it. It’s a bland inoffesnsive cartoon for toddlers. Enough effort is put in for me not to hate it, as even a toddler show can have effort, but not enoguh so that I really care. I’ve seen better, i’ve seen worse. The only intresting things are the racing gimmick and the fact that as said gimmick diminished they switched names to “Mickey’s mixed up adventures” in season 3. Hence the complicated part as it’s not counted as it’s own series but unlike other disney title changes they aren’t just slapping another label under the logo like the marvel shows. This is  a full on retool. But it still has the same cast and prodcution crew and is counted as part of mickey mouse. Point is it’s weird and not relevant since our boys didn’t show up in that season. Oh and as a final note I learned while writing this/ there’s a THIRD Mickey Mouse Disney Junior Series, Mickey Mouse Funhouse, coming next year. 

But with so little to cover I ended up throwing in a freebie. See normally I charge the same for 11 minute and 20+ minute shows. It’s fair as most 11 minute shows these days pack in as much character as the ones that use the full half hour. It’s just a diffrence in tactics is all. But here I felt obligated to do at LEAST two diffrent, but cabs related, 11 minutes here, so if I had nothing to talk about I could pad it out and If I had everyhting to talk about.. eh I still tried to do the right thing. I regret nothing. But yeah i’m sick, this series is eh, let’s gooooo. 

Mickey’s Perfecto Day So Mickey and Friends are preparing to drive to spain.

No i’m not making a joke. Wish I was would be one of my best but no, Mickey and Friends are just.. casually going to drive to Spain. To explain why this hurts my head a map, on which i’ve drawn the route they’d have to take to get to spain from, let’s say Calisota, the fictional state where Mouseton, Duckburg, New Quackmore, and thus probably Hot Dog Hills, the show’s setting, reside. 

This is a crue map, they oculd’ve gone down through mexico or central america.. but the point is THEY DROVE ACROSS THE OCEAN. And I genuinely do not know if their cars can do that but apparently they can. So either the writer didn’t know where Spain was or didn’t care and either way it’s bad. LIke at least give their cars a plane or boat mode. Go full DKR up in this bitch, give em diffrent racing vehicles. But it wouldn’t be as aggrivvating or bizzare if they MENTIONED how they were driving to spain, like maybe Donald’s car that’s also an old boat and goofy’s that’s a tub have aquamodes and can tow the rest. I get 5 year olds don’t care about this.. but still? I guess? Also MIckey is either the sorcerer supreme or jesus at this point. He can cross oceans by car, astral project, cross into other dimensions.. the only thing missing is raising the dead and  he already did that in the 30′s. 

So as for why the sorcerer supreme and his buddies are going all the way to Spain, Donald has a concert with the three caballeros and this time they all remember him as a memmber and Daisy’s a huge fan. Which is sweet. Then we hear donald duck talk and...

Yeah, Daniel Ross is not the best Donald. Now I will cut the guy some slack here: He’s a voice actor more known for doing bit parts who just got the role in 2016, since racers aired in 2017 and animation lead time and all that. He’s not going to be nearly as good as Tony or Clarence out of the gate. Even Tony wasn’t. He also had a valid reason for picking up the role as Tony likely had two series in production at that time, Rise of the Three Cablleros and Ducktales, and thus had to split his time between both. And having Chris Diamaptolus do mickey in the new shorts instead of his usual voice actor Bret Iwane despite Iwane not being in any serious danger of dying soon has worked out super. So having multiple actors isn’t the problem. Hell after the tragic loss of Russi taylor and with how bad the world is, having an understudy in mind for such an important role is a grim but understandable necicisty. While I belivie tony can go on for decades, he’s only human. 

So my issue is not on Donald’s voice being diffrent or new.. it’s that it’s not very good and the second episode featuerd here shows Daniel Ross really hasn’t improved despite now having worked as the character for a while.I can forgive taking some time to grow in but being this sloppy after a full season is just unacceptable. He’s BETTER but he’s still just not very good and doing the bear minimum. I don’t doubt he’s a good va in other rolls, I don’t want to hate on the guy, but I can hate on aperfomance when it’s bad and it’s not good here. It’s just not. Not in either episode not in any way shape or form. It just feels like a lazy donald duck impression. Disney can do better and Ross can hopefully find better work in the future. But for now this just hangs like a wet fart on his resume. 

Moving on, thankfully, we have our three stories split pretty evenly and all stock plots. “Horay”.  Mickey and Minnie: Mickey tries to have a “perfecto” day, hence the title with Minnie, but instead gives her a rose a baby bull likes.. or maybe it’s SUPPOSED to be full grown but while Mickey and Minnie treat him like a grown bull and react to him like one.. the boy dosen’t look at all, even in the series style, like an adult bull. he looks like a calf. Mickey.. is initimdated by a small child whose horns aren’t sharp enough to hurt him. 

It’s just REALLY distracting and takes me out of the plot which itself is as bland as plain toast and twice as dry. They flee him till the end where Minnie figures out the rose thing at the concert and they make an ew friend. NOt TERRIBLE but not great.  Goofy and Cuckoo Loca: Okay first off who and what is a cuckoo loca? Well she’s a wind up bird that lives in Daisy’s Cuckoo Clock and makes sarcastic comments in a brooklyn accent because nikka futtterman voices her. Still makes more sense than driving to spain. She’s not a bad addition to the cast.. not even that weird as most kids based franchises have an adorable animal sidekick to market. Goofy wants to try some “flamingo dancing” while in spain, with Loca going along to make sure he dosen’t die somehow.. which would be unjustifable for anyone but goofy. Also.. Flamingo Dancing...

But yeah Goofy goes up against ... world famous flamingo dancer horace horsecollar?!

Now apparently this is a common thing for him in this series, apparently, but still it feels like if one of those weird variant ninja turtle figures from the 80′s was a plot point in an episode. Like if we actually had an episode based around birthday magician raph. 

It feels just as odd and out of place for down to earth if showy horace to suddenly be the best flaminco dancer in spain, despite being very much white coded, as it does for the angriest ninja turtle to be pulling a rabbit out of kids hats. Now Rise of the TMNT raph I could totally see as a party magician but any other? He’d probably break his wand over some kids head. 

Goofy ends up winning anyway because he’s stupid, though Flamingo dancing should be a real thing even if this joke is bad and it shoudl feel bad. What an ODD subplot Okay one more then i’m free of this prison. 

The Three Cablleros Plus Daisy:  Okay finally we get to what I came here for. The Three Caballeros! And..they look a tad off. Not terrible but clearly the animators weren’t as skilled with non duck beaks as both of them look ready to do this to donald. 

While Panchito’s color varies. Sometime’s it’s a deep brownish crimson, sometimes it’s poop brown and there’s no classy way to put it. When he’s in this cheap cgi, he looks like a shit chicken. This gets to a larger issue though... the animation here is not great. It’s not TERRIBLE.. but it’s pretty freaking sub par for disney. And i’ve SEEN their other cgi shows around the same time due to having a young niece and nephew. Sherieff Callie, Doc McStuffins, MIles from Tommorowland, and after this T.O.T.S. and Rocketeer. I’m not saying these are masterpieces of the genre, but they have more effort in botht he animation and writing put in. Here it just feels like they do the bear minimum which feels really fucking wrong. These chracters deserve better and have thankfully gotten better. YOu can make a show for preschoolers that’s cutsey and harmless and still have it at least be creative god dammit. It’s why I don’t like covering this show. It just feels so.. lifeless. They try a bit here and there but outside of cuckoo, there’s nothing really new or intresting to really make kids love these characters and it bothers me. it bothers me a lot. 

Moving on thank god, the plot is bare bones as is the boys characterization. So far at least their character has been pretty consitent across all mediums. i’ts something I haven’t really touched on but their seen as world traveler’, Panchito being a Gaucho and Jose being such a ladies man this will probably happen to him eventually. 

I swear to god that was the only part of this movie I can remember. I’m  better off that way. But yeah without Panchito’s pep or Jose’s smooth talking ways, there’s just nothing for disney junior to work with so their just.. friends to donald who are nice to daisy. Which is very nice to see, but isn’t very intresting or gives me a lot to talk about. Donald eats a food that’s too hot, continues to talk poorly, and Daisy has to fill in. He gets back in at time and they sing probably the most forgetable cabs song yet. It’s.. not much honestly.  This was worth covering for completions sake but it dosen’t really add much. If nothing else it at least made me realize so far each mile of the ride has added something fresh to the characters: The original was the foundation, rosa gave them depth and made them feel like real people, and house of mouse made them feel like a big deal to other characters and made donald’s history as a cabllero part of his legacy as it should be. Each one so far has felt like it added.. this one just made me realize that and that is all. It builds on nothing adds nothing and there’s really nothing here other than MAYBE the brown/crimson design for panchito that carries over from the looks of it. The next two versions build on what rosa, the movie and to a lesser extent the house of mouse built. This one adds nothing. This plot is just.. inconqueintal. not bad for kids to know about them but even then it feels like a disapointing introduction. I fondly remember hte cabs episodes of house of mouse and even on rewatch they mostly held up despite some weak parts. This .. this will just be forgotten and I only hope legend and ducktales have done a better job keeping my boys alive in kids minds. God i’m depressed. Well at least this is over right.. right? 

Daisy’s Grande Goal

Okay as I said I was doing two, and rather than do this episode’s paired episode I decided on Season 2′s “Supercharged: Daisy’s Grande Goal”.. and cut the supercharged out of the title for the most part because why would you put the sutitle in your actual title. And only in some episodes. But yeah this season had a new gimmick, SUPERCHARGING... which basically means our heroes roadsters can go into super sayian tron super sayian mode and go real fast. They look real nice though and it has it’s own neat theme tune so there’s that. Otherwise the only other change is the animation which improves greatly. Seriously look at that shot above. That’s quality lin line with the ohter disney juinor shows. It’s still not as CREATIVE, but it’s not as slipshod as it started and I have to give them credit on that. 

So our heroes are in Brazil.. and as far as I can tell they drove there again.. but the diffrence is 1) you can actually DRIVE to brazil and 2) they have super fast super cars now, meaning even if the super charge mode has a timer, it can help with the commute. It’s also one of the boys actual home countries this time. I mean the episode isn’t built around the cabs.. but neither was the last one. Seriously I almost missed that: it’s three unrleated plots and really you could’ve just lenethed the bull and goofy plots a bit and left donald and daisy out. If your not going to use the cabs right hten don’t use them at all. Here though their used BETTER.. still not in the lead unforunately but at least them being on the brazilian soccer team makes sense as jose is from brazil and while panchito is it he’s his best friend, sometimes lover and always there when he needs him. So spending some time in brazil to play soccer/football isn’t a stretch. But that’s about it for their involvment: they say a few lines, are part of the brazilian team our heroes face, and we get Not-Donald saying “No Way Jose”.,,,

Sadly I can’t leave but the main plot is about Daisy’s Cousnt Almonda. She was in the previous episode which I did not watch but I do like both there being a valid reason why our heroes are here, and connection between episodes. While this season isn’t MUCH better.. it’s still better by some metric.  The plot is very basic: Almonda always wins at soccer ever since she and Daisy were kids, and it’s your basic “hero gets overcompetitive to finally win plot and learns to just have fun and to use teamwork heart of the cards and all that” It goes how you’d expect with Daisy hogging the ball and causing disasters and then a ten car pileup before cucoo yells at her, she realizes she was bad and also realizes Almonda had to practice hard to beat her, and ends up beating her through teamwork and you get it. IT’s not much But yeah ten car pile up.. that’s where it is intresting and rediculous as their playing soccer with cars. Which given i’ve always been an advocate for card games on motor cycles, seriously it’s not more rediculous than Yugioh was before that: in the anime and manga before 5ds we had table hockey but the puck is ice with nitrocylcrine in it, a battle with an escaped convict involving vodka and only using one finger, a chinese puzzel box that devoured souls, a dueling monkey, a whole hogwarts style school for dueling, duel spirits, our heroes childhood creations coming to life to help him, our hero merging with his androgynous childhood friend to fight the light of all evils, and on top of all of that, kaiba building a giant murder theme park soley to kill yugi and, even with how rich is he is, not even going to prison for the two months he’d get for that. My point is Yugioh is fricking weird and I love it so and card games on mortocyles is awesome.  Soccer with cars is alright. The teams are mickey, minnie, daisy and donald, for the US and Almonda, Jose, Panchito and.. Pancho Pete for the Brazilian team. Pete’s cousin. He apparenlty has a lot of em. Eh as long as we don’t get petkeem the african dream we’re fine. 

Why why did I make this. Why. But yeah it’s fine, not the best action ever adn the supercharge segments as I said look nice but as I also said ther’es just not a lot here. Daisy’s cousin is intresting, but likely more in the other segment. Here she’s more of a plot device to make daisy into an asshole for the episode so the plot can happen. There’s just not a lot to talk about> Hence me doing two of these. I will say it’s a better episode than the other one: it felt like more actually happened, it was more cohesive, had way more enerjgy and it had billy beagle... the series resident overexcited and loveable announcer voiced by the far from loveable jay leno of stealing conan’s job he gave him and last man standing, for some reason, fame. 

Overall these episodes are.. eh. The first one is kind of a mess, the second one is slightly better but these clearly werne’t meant for adults, let alone older kids and it shows. But I found some material here and made a horrifying combination of a terrible racist wwe gimmick and pete so.. I win/ I guess. I dunno, until next time, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. 

[diarrheaofthekeyboard]

#41

9.4.2020 - 9.8.2020

At age 5, sometime in the summer of 1983, I went to my first Mets game. I know they played the Montreal Expos. I’m pretty sure George Bamburger was still the manager. Tom Seaver was on the team. I do not know if he pitched that game. But I know I saw him pitch on tv as a Met that year. 

My early childhood from that point forward was consumed with baseball (and cartoons) until about 1989 when the Mets were bad again. They just got worse until I went to college, but I still watched. I couldn’t watch Mets games in college, so I mostly forgot about baseball. I graduated in 2000 and came home to the Mets and Yankees in the Subway Series. And I was back in it. 

The Mets predictably lost, and it was the worst because the Yankees were dynastic, but something else happened. After raising me as a Mets fan, my father outed himself as a Yankee fan. 

My dad was born in Brooklyn in 1950 and raised in Sheepshead Bay, which is close to Coney Island. Story goes he asked my grandfather to go see the Dodgers and was told “next year”. That was 1957. He never got to see the Dodgers in Brooklyn. They, and the New York Giants, moved to California before the 1958 season. This is pretty fucked up. And though I never asked him while he was alive, it would make no sense for my grandfather to have claimed he didn’t know the Dodgers were leaving. It was the biggest news in Brooklyn.

For 4 years, there was only one New York team. The Yankees. They won the World Series in 1958 and 1961. They lost the World Series in 1960. The Mets first season was 1962 and promptly set the record for most games lost in a season, in the modern era. The Yankees beat the San Francisco Giants in the World Series that year. In 1963 the Yankees lost to the Los Angeles Dodgers, but who could root for the Dodgers after they left Brooklyn? That was traitorous. In ‘64 the Yankees lost the World Series to the St. Louis Cardinals. They were terrible after that. 

In 1967, Tom Seaver debuted for the New York Mets. They were still the worst team in baseball. In 1969, led by Seaver, the Mets were champions. My dad, by this time in college, became a fan. 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in tracing his sports allegiances, it’s that he’s a bandwagoner. We never watched hockey, but for some reason had 4 copies of an Islanders record from the early 80s. We never really watched football, but he did like to watch the Cowboys. Why wasn’t he a Giants fan? Or a Jets fan? It never really made sense. 

The entire reason we went to that game in 1983 was my dad got tickets from work. The owner of the company he worked for had box seats about 10 rows behind the third base dugout. We would go once or twice a year and my dad would complain about traffic. We went to Game 1 of the 1986 World Series. I still have my ticket. It was a big moment for me, having just turned all of 9 years old. It’s still a big moment for me. We sat 6 rows from the back of the stadium and couldn’t see anything. But we were there. 

I never had reason to believe my dad was anything other than a Mets fan. And then, there I am, freaking out in 2000 as Benny Agbayani hands the ball to a fan in the stands because he thought there were three outs, and my dad is outing himself further as a Yankee fan with every moment. 

I don’t remember when this took place, but I know it happened. I was so angry I was raised a Mets fan. But it went something like this: 

Why would you do this to your child? You know how bad they are. You read the paper. You never bothered to tell me the Yankees won the World Series in 1978. I could have gone through life as a carefree Yankee fan, not ever having to know the intricacies of the game, and never beating myself up in the years they weren’t competitive because they’re the fucking Yankees! They always come back. 

At that point, I couldn’t give up the Mets. For the damage being invested in their losing had done to me, and for what it would continue to do to me. For 20 years until I left New York, I probably watched 150 games a year, whether on tv or at Shea. I didn’t just double down. It became all consuming. And gut wrenching. Hey! You had a shit day at work! Let’s agonize over this garbage team and argue with the tv announcers every day. As I bounced from apartment to apartment, job to job, there would always be the constant, soothing misery of the Mets.  

The 2000 baseball season had been my introduction to Tom Seaver the announcer. Keith Hernandez too. I actually got to see him play. He was the quintessential first baseman. Now I got to listen to them regularly. Along with Ralph Kiner, Gary Thorne, and Howie Rose, they were fantastic. They talked about the game like a coach should talk about the game. Every game, regardless of how bad the team was, became a clinic in “How to Baseball”. I loved it. 

In 2006, the Mets got their own broadcasting network and consolidated the announcing team. Ralph Kiner’s health had declined over the years and he would only return on home Sunday games. Fran Healy and Tim McCarver were finally, mercifully gone. Seaver left too. He had gone into winemaking in ‘05 and wanted to pursue it full time. Taking over play-by-play was radio announcer Gary Cohen. He had been Bob Murphy’s understudy and was a familiar pick. Keith Hernandez stayed and fellow 80s Met Ron Darling was added as well. They’re still in the booth today, and they’re fantastic. 

Seaver would show up from time to time. There was never a down, dull moment with him. You’d get an adrenaline rush just listening to him. 

I’m going to say something controversial. I hated Shea Stadium. It was a nasty, ugly place. But there’s one thing about it that CitiField just can’t replace. The entire stadium was built from concrete blocks and it was very closed in. Each entrance to the seating area from the concourse was like its own little tunnel into another world. You come out of the darkness and into the light of the greenest field you’ve ever seen. I got goosebumps and would nearly be on the verge of tears, every time I walked through, from that first game in 1983, until they tore the place down at the end of the 2008 season. 

I did make sure to be there at the last game. It was terrible. The Mets needed to beat the Marlins to get into the Wild Card and it didn’t happen. Then we waited seemingly forever for the post-game ceremony to begin, absolutely fuming that we had been duped by this shit team again. Finally, things got started. Mets greats were announced. And Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza closed the centerfield gate together, formally closing the book on Shea. It was a good moment even though the season ended terribly. 

We moved to California two years ago. This was my opportunity to finally get rid of the Mets. I was determined to do it. I started watching A’s and Giants games. I even started watching Dodger games. At the start of the season, I was set to ride the A’s and Dodgers all the way to a California World Series. Then COVID hit. The season was cancelled. I lost my job. School was cancelled. Bad news increased exponentially. And when the baseball season finally started in July, my wife said she wanted to watch the Mets. She wasn’t going to give me a choice either. 

We met in 2006. She had moved to NYC the previous year and kinda bandwagoned her way into Yankee fandom. Because why not. She was really a football fan anyway. One of her previous boyfriends was apparently a huge Cubs fan. She says every time they lost he’d be upset for days. Which, historically, is a tough place to be as a Cubs fan. As we dated and got closer she saw just how many games I would watch on a yearly basis. It’s a lot. 

She got used to me pacing around, guitar in hand, yelling at the TV. She studied for the bar exam through this. One time, I forget what was going on, she’s reading flashcards and I had taken issue with something Gary Cohen said. And I hear quietly, “don’t argue with Gary!” I can still hear the inflection in her voice in my head. I turned around and started telling her why I disagreed with him and her only response was “did I say that out loud?” Gary, Keith, and Ron were hugely important to not only her tolerance of my baseball tv domination, but also her appreciation of the game. She only knew Ralph Kiner as this cute old man. And every so often, Seaver would come back and she’d see me well up with visceral feelings. 

I cried when Ralph Kiner died. Around 2014/2015 I wrote a blog titled “The Common Sense Mets Fan”. At the time, I was convinced the Sandy Alderson administration would right the team and keep the Wilpons at bay. I was wrong. Anyway, here’s what I wrote: 

On the last day of the season, as usual, Gary Cohen said goodbye to Ralph Kiner. But there was something different about it this time. There was fear in Gary’s face, as though he knew this was his last opportunity to sign off with Ralph. I had seen hints of it in years past, but never like this. Sadly, Ralph passed today, I hope peacefully.

As a Mets fan, this is like losing a grandfather or great uncle. Ralph had always been there. From his stories about Elizabeth Taylor to his willingness to argue advanced metrics and hitting style with Keith Hernandez, he was ever present in the Mets broadcast booth. I’ll never be able to hear the game again the same way. Thank you, Ralph.

At the time, I said to my wife, “the next time I cry about the Mets, it’ll be when Tom Seaver dies.” This was before their 2015 run. Before the Wilmer Flores incident. Before I was sitting on my couch with a 1 year old, watching them in a World Series, as I did my best impression of Randy Quaid from Major League. I refused to allow myself to enjoy the success of the team because I knew they would lose. It was just a matter of when. And of course, they did lose to the Kansas City Royals. But they got a lot further than I thought they would. 

When MLB decided to move forward with a truncated 2020 season, I was reluctant to watch. It’s not safe for anyone involved and seems to be all about corporate greed. But of course, like moths to a flame, we watched. And as I mentioned, my wife said, “we’re watching the Mets.” I didn’t want to. But she was right. In a year like we’ve never seen before, Gary Cohen, Ron Darling, and Keith Hernandez did something, and are doing something, nobody else is. They gave us levity and calm. Led by Gary, they are unafraid to address the news of the day while knowing the escape they provide. The BLM t-shirt moment was unparalleled. And unfortunately, they’d have another day to provide calm the next week. 

As you well know by now, George Thomas Seaver died last week. He had contracted lyme disease years ago, while working in the vineyards. For some people, lyme goes undiagnosed for years while doctors treat the symptoms without putting it all together. This seems to have been what happened to Tom. It progressed with complications and he developed Lewy Body dementia. His family announced his retirement from public life and the Mets announced they would erect a statue to him outside of CitiField. They changed the address of the stadium to 41 Seaver Way. But in true Wilpon Mets fashion, still no statue. 

Finally, last week, Tom died due to complications from COVID. I was sitting on the couch, watching some random baseball game and reading Twitter. I saw the Baseball Hall of Fame announcement on Twitter, exclaimed “oh no!”, and went upstairs to be alone for a minute. My wife was on the phone. She ran upstairs to see me sitting with my head in my hands and asked what happened. I told her and then told her how stupid I felt for letting this get to me. And she said, “yeah, but you said after Ralph died this would happen”. 

Our son came upstairs to see what he was missing. I told him. He said “who’s that?” And we had a long talk I think bored him. And it’s then it hit me what had happened. As I’ve detailed in the past 4 pages of text, Tom Seaver meant a lot to me, even though in my experience as a Mets fan, he was really just a peripheral character. I saw him on the field a couple of times. He was talked about. He was an announcer for a few years, and he’s mostly been out of the spotlight for the past 15 years. Here I was, having a visceral, uncontrollable reaction to a childhood figure I never met. How the fuck were people who actually knew him going to keep it together?

They couldn’t do it. Gary and Ron did their best. Apparently, Keith’s mom also had dementia, and he lost it. There was a lot of silence during the game. A lot of big sighs from Keith. A lot of on air hurting. It was gut wrenching. I saw an Ed Kranepool quote that said, “this was a terrible ending to a horseshit year.” And it’s only September! 

At this point, nearly a week later, it’s difficult to remember where I saw it. But here it is. The reason I’ve spent all this time spilling my guts about a guy I never met. Tom Seaver was a beacon. He wasn’t just someone who had a talent and pursued it. He was constantly trying to reinvent himself and pursue that passion, whether he was good at it or not. But even moreso, he was a positive influence on everyone around him. I’ve never heard a story about Seaver fighting with anyone. He wanted to be Rembrandt with a baseball. And he wanted to lift people up around him. 

I feel isolated and alone. There’s not much I feel like I can control. I can get out my thoughts, I can be a good husband and a good father. I can explore my music. And I can use the latter to pull myself out of the former. That’s what Tom would tell me to do.