#special blonde woman this show does not seem to like women very much. sad! well there's other shows

[mashmouths]

so i started this show and it just gets worse and worseeeee not only did it lift the romance subplot directly from twilight (and not well) but they also are trying to play the forbidden love angle hard in the fantasy racism vein except it's a "cross-species" relationship between the two whitest people i've ever seen in my life and there are three people of color in the whole (first season of the) show who aren't villains and it seems that every other episode (and sometimes ebery episode and sometimes twice an episode!) there is a man physically or magically subjugating a woman and i keep waiting for the big reveal at the end to be stolen from fucking rainbow rowell

[anastasiabeaverhousen87]

Make Wise Choices:  Part 7 Cuore  Mio

The next couple of days were rough on you, filled with cold meds, soups, lots of chamomile tea  and water and you felt like your teeth were about to swim out of your mouth, but according to Alex you needed to be hydrated and tea was good for colds.

A few days after Alex had to go back to the DEO, she was needed but Kara was able to stay with you as Supergirl wasn’t required to be there, not at the moment anyways. So that’s how you found yourself at Thursday afternoon Infront of the TV with Kara next to you in the couch watching some musical. Well, Kara was watching the musical, you were engrossed on your cellphone texting away with a very goofy smile on your face.

Kara: “Is that the hot doctor your texting…again?” –

Y/N: “well, if you really must know. Yes, I’m texting Cassie”

Kara: “Cassie huh? So now you’re on nickname bases I see”

y/n: “I heard Lena called her that and I liked it, also I think Cassandra is a beautiful name, but a mouthful. And calling her hot doctor sounded a bit rude, at least for the time being”- you give a naughty smile.

Kara laughs at that and mutes the tv “You really like her, don’t you?”

y/n: “I do, I mean I feel things when I speak with her and when I’m near her. And Oh my God she is sooo beautiful. You’re not mad, aren’t you?”

Kara: “Sweet girl I could never be mad about you liking someone. Besides she really is hot. But honestly it would be kind of hypocrite from me to not approve you liking her. She is also someone very dear to Lena so that makes her even more special. So no, I’m not mad, I’m actually happy for you, you never really showed any interested in anyone like you seem to be with her. Just be careful and don’t feel pressured into something you don’t really want”

y/n: “I know, I mean I’ve dated but there was no spark, nothing there. I did fool around a little but never really liked someone to go all the way. If you know what I mean?” – you blush pink at this.

Kara: “I figured as much. You’re a lot like Alex in that aspect, you concentrate too much in your grades and other things, work. But you never really sounded super doped on anyone you dated, when mom and Alex gave you the sex talk you were almost sick thinking about it, that was funny to watch” – You throw a pillow at your sister face “Hey!!!, don’t attack me little bean. And then when you asked about sex with women you sounded more interested but still, I can tell you weren’t ready. The question is, do you feel like you are ready now?”

y/n: “I feel like I am. Truly I’ve only known her for a little while, and I know is soon. But I really like getting to know her and to spend time with her. She is amazing and so caring. I can feel getting serious with her you know. Like I can trust her, and I can share that level of intimacy. It’s weird because is so soon, but I just know it feel right. Do you think is too soon?”

Kara: “If you feel like you can open up to her, if she makes you feel safe enough, why not? you are very good at judging people’s character and I trust your judgement. I’m not gonna lie though, Cassandra being Lena’s friend and all I’ve heard from her she does sounds like a great person and I know Lena also doesn’t trust easily. So yes, that a great bonus and makes me feel more comfortable of you dating her. But I do trust you baby, you’ll know when you feel ready and what to share with her. Also, I know you won’t be able to hide who I am from her that much longer if things do get serious. When you feel ready to tell her I will support you, okay? Oh and if she ever treats you wrong I will throw her into the sun”. - she winks at you.

y/n: “Thank you Kara, that means a lot to me” – you hug your sister and you kiss her cheek while your cellphone sounds with an incoming text, you look down at your phone- “She wants to come over…” you give a small smile

Kara: “well, tell her yes. Go change into something more appropriate at least nicer pajamas. and if she does happen to make you diner again, I wouldn’t be opposed to her amazing pasta. Man, I’m so jealous of you, she cooks like a pro and if I wasn’t dating Lena or you being my sister I would totally charm my way to her, her cooking skills are so amazing. Now don’t get jealous little bean, I’m good with her being my sister in law, she still needs to get point and be on my good side. Just tell her food is the way to my heart” – you sister laughs while walking to the kitchen. “Go get change and tell your girlfriend to come over”

y/n: “You and your stomach. Crazy alien food crazed woman. And sister-in law, seriously? Let me date her first, jeez!” – you mumble while walking into your room.

You hear someone at the door, and you know is the blonde doctor, and you don’t even try to rush to the living room well aware that your bubbly sister will open the door and let her come in.

Kara: “Hello Cassandra, come on in please, y/n will be here in a moment. Y/N!!! you hot date is here!”

Dr. Sharpe: “You’ve been waiting a while to do that don’t you?” – the doctor greets the other blonde and kisses her cheeks hello.

Kara: “You have nooo idea for how long. She used to say things like that or worse when I first began to date Lena, even at the very beginning of our friendship. I’ve been waiting patiently for the time for payback! Ha…” Kara rubs her hands like a Disney villain but she honestly looks quite like the adorable golden retriever she really is.

y/n: ““Really Kara? You couldn’t wait a little longer?”- you shake your head amused and then walk to where the blonde doctor is standing, and she quickly kisses your cheeks and gives you a warm hug.

Dr. Sharpe: “Ciao Bella ragazza”-  

You blush at the words spoken by the blonde doctor

Y/n: “hello to you too gorgeous”

Kara: “Oh you guys are so cute, I can’t even…”- Your sister speaks and walks into the living room

  The three women spend the afternoon talking and the doctor even offered to make diner, much to your sister delight and happy squeal. Lena was on her way over and you got to know more of the blue- eyed doctor and you could see why Lena loves and admires Cassandra so much. She is an amazing kind and dedicated woman. You learnt that not only did the good doctor was a certificated periodontist, she had received a Master’s Degree in Oral Biology  and while in graduate school she also received the Balint Orban Award, which apparently is the highest level of certification in the field of periodontist. And that the reason Lena and the blonde woman couldn’t see each other so often was because Cassandra gives lectures all over the world on a wide range of topics including dental implants, gum grafting, cosmetic periodontal surgery, and bone regeneration. She is also the founder and program director of a dental study club whose purpose is to positively impact the quality of dental care by hosting the highest quality international speakers in the field of dentistry to speak to local dentists in different cities in the US. And in addition to that she also made multiple mission trips to countries in Latin America like Mexico, Guatemala, Venezuela among others where she has been able to utilize her skills to help the neediest of people.

To say you were amazed by the woman was an understatement, she was funny, beautiful and crazy smart. But behind all those accomplishments you could see a sadness withing her. And you felt the need to change that, to make her smile and a pull to her that you couldn’t quite understand. But you were pulled out from your thoughts when Lena spoke.

 Lena: “Sorry to cut my time short but I just got a text and I’m needed for a consult” – Lena discreetly elbowing Kara to see the text on her phone. Both her and Supergirl were needed at the DEO, so they needed to leave.

Kara: “Oh shoot, ok well let me drive you then”

And of course you couldn’t be cool about it and spoke before you could understand why they needed to leave “Kara you don’t even own a car and Lena has her own driver”- you look at your sister like she just said the stupidest thing ever. Until you recognize their looks and realized they both were needed for something important, DEO important. You curse yourself.

y/n: “Buuuut I mean I totally get it, you should go with her, you haven’t been able to spend time just the two of you because you’re been busy taking care of me. Soooo why don’t you guys leave. I´ll be okay on my own. “

Kara: “Yeah I don’t think so little one, you always forget to take your meds and…”

Lena: “If you don’t mind Cassie, can you stay for a little while with y/n ?” – Lena interrupts her girlfriend ramblings.

y/n: “Hey Lena, I thought you were on my side. I can totally take care of myself” – you pout at her

Dr. Sharpe: “I can stay, I don’t mind at all. I like spending time with you y/n”

y/n: “Yeah me too, I just find itoffensive my sister and Lena don’t think I could spend a few hours on my own. But sure stay we can watch a movie or something”

Kara: “Ha, yeah. Like last night you were so tired you fell asleep on the bathtub and knocked the shampoo inside the water and you made a huge mess with shampoo foam or you know when trying to make a chocolate shake with the blender and forgot to remove the metal spoon and you almost cut you hand when the blender broke to pieces, yeah totally you can handle yourself. Klutz!”

You gasp and look offended: “How dare you!!! Says the woman that burnt the brownies and set the microwave and toaster on fire !!! - you just childishly stuck your tongue out and pouted: “Well you make it sound like I’m the worse, thank you Kara”

Lena and the blonde doctor laugh at the antics and pouting face you make at your sister.

Lena: “I knew it was you the responsible for the toaster, Kara. That one was new”

Kara: “No, you are not the worse, but when you feel tire or sick you tend to make messes and I don’t want you alone, you haven’t completely got rid of your cold and you still under some strong meds. We just worry, you know we love you so much. And honey it was an accident I did got a new one though”

y/n: “Fine leave us now, bring back home some chocolate if you can pleaseeeee?”

Kara: “Totally my little klutz” -your sister engulfs you in a big hug and gives you a kiss to your head.  “let’s go Lena and…” – looking back at you and the blonde doctor “behave yourselves and don’t do anything I wouldn’t” – You hug ger back just as strong and let go of her.

Lena: “Come on sweetheart and leave them be”- Just rolls her eyes and walks away with the blonde superhero next to her. The door closes.

You just exhale and keep looking at the door and then your turn around to face the blonde doctor.  You are both now sitting at the couch and the blue-eyed woman is looking at you with a sweet and soft smile.

You scrunch up your nose adorably: “What?”

Dr. Sharpe: “Nothing, I just like the way you are with your sisters. You care very much and they as well. That’s nice, it reminds me of the way I used to be with my nonna and my brother” – the blonde woman face goes from fond to a little sad.

y/n: “are they in Italy?”

Her face is just so sad, and you can see a hint of tears in her eyes, and it makes your heart aches.

Dr. Sharpe: “No, they died” -you try to apologize but the blonde doctor sees that and stops you “Don’t, you didn’t know, you couldn’t. and it was a very long time ago. My nonna basically rise me and my brother. She died when I was 25 and my brother, he was my best friend. He …he uhm he was a Navy SEAL, he died in a terrorism-related mission three years ago.” – the blonde doctor just stares down at her hands trying to gain control over her emotions.

You just wanted to make her stop hurting so you did the only thing you knew you were an expert at. Hugging and cuddling people. So, you just hug her firm and strong you cling to her and try to convey through physical connection instead of words, that you are sorry, and you want to make the pain go away or at least lessen the burnt. You stay like that hugging each other and basking in the feel of each other arms.

Dr. Sharpe: “Okay, well you truly are an amazing hugger sweetheart, thank you”- the blonde woman kisses your cheek and near your mouth but not quite there. So, you take things into your own hands and sit up, throw a leg over the blonde doctor waist so you can straddle her. You put your arms around her neck and stare directly into those beautiful eyes, you really love those eyes. They are mesmerizing.

y/n: “God I really love your eyes, is like seeing the color of the sky when there’s a summer storm”.

the blonde doctor was completely still, mouth barely open and a little smirk on the corner of her mouth as she looks up to you amused loving eyes.

You took the opportunity to movie in and crush your lips against the blonde woman, who was more than happy to reciprocate. You initiated the kiss trying to control the kiss, hungrily kissing her lips, however the honey blonde had other plans, she bit down ever so slightly your bottom lip but soon you were surprised by strong arms shifting. The blonde grab ahold of your ass  and stood up with you in her arms and holding you tight against her waist  and twisted her body so you hold on just as tight and you felt yourself being lowered on the couch. The blonde had a hand behind you head, holding you were laid down flat on your back and she was hovering above you and broke the kiss but kept looking directly into your eyes.

You were just as turn on as the blonde doctor, she was looking down at you with such hunger in her eyes, and she was panting.

Dr. Sharpe: “Calm down little one” – the blonde woman lowered her face next to your ear and kissed the side of your neck – “if you keep pushing me, I won’t be able to stop”

y/n: “Well I don’t want you stop” – you tried to gain some sort of friction from the tight nestles between your legs.

Dr. Sharpe: “no?”- the blonde doctor keeps kissing your neck and jaw and you shiver in delight. You never felt this aroused by someone before. But the blonde just kissed you sweetly, you tried to hug her to bring her down on you, but the blonde kept it sweet and gentle, not really letting you get any traction in the kiss. Like an innocent sweet kiss.

You felt yourself being sat up by strong and gentle arms. She pulled you into her your legs intertwined, and she positioned you to lay on her your head being cradled in the crook of her neck and you felt another kiss this time to your temple. The blonde woman kept making soothing circles on your back with her free hand, rubbing your arm and face. You wrapped yourself even further into her.

You love cuddles and hugs, you did it all the time with your sisters and some friend, specially Lena. But this felt so different, probably the most intimate thing you ever done with anyone. You didn’t put up any fight, you felt so cozy and happy in her arms.

Dr. Sharpe: “shh cuore mio, I know you want this. But I want to take you on a proper date first I want to do this the right way, you deserve better and not rushing it in the heat of the moment” – she spoke so softly to you, that you just melted.

You kept basking in the tender touches and soft skin- “ I like it when you call me Italian pet names”

The blonde woman just smiled and kept the soothing touches.  You nuzzled you face into her neck finding that smell that was just hers, Cassandra’s and her warmth. You felt completely at peace and you felt yourself falling asleep in the most comfortable embrace. The blonde doctor kept looking at you and touching softly your back and arms, until herself felt the pull of sleep and the both were completely asleep in each other’s arms.

  Note: Well this happened, I hope you like it. 

Until next time...

[vln-vibes]

First Encounters

Day One of February Memory  @maribat-2k20 Haly’s Circus was the greatest thing Marinette had ever experienced in her six year old life. Her maman and papa had decided to take her while nonna was visiting, having sung praises of the circus and that she knew a few of the performers.

Marinette was young but she knew Gina Dupain could not be tied to one place for so long, it made sense that she had taken to meeting so many people. Marinette hoped to be like her one day; carefree, adventurous, brave and kind.

As the lights dimmed down she could feel the anticipation of the room build up; she thought she saw Nino, Kim and Chloe in the crowd but it was too dark to really tell.  She could always just ask on Monday.

Soon the ringmaster, Haly, came out with the ever used “Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Welcome to Haly’s Traveling Circus”

It was so colorful and captivating, the little girl almost felt like the show was catered for her, easily going above and beyond to almost unthinkable feats.

From strongmen to animal tamers to body contortionists. All of it was amazing!

The clowns were funny and colorful; the acrobats graceful and flawless; the strongmen looking like they put no effort; the animal tamers never using the whip as they just guided the tigers through tricks; knife throwers never missing a beat; contortionists looking effortless and comfortable. A parade of the animals came out and Marinette was a true goner.

The elephants were beginning to leave the arena, clowns and acrobats still doing tricks on their backs, when a drumroll began, lights dimming again, spotlights flying all over the place as Haly’s voice boomed.

“Ladies and Gents, feast your eyes on Haly’s own pride and joy; The Flying Graysons!”

In a split second the spotlights pointed at two different stands high up in the tent, had they always been so high up? As two men, one on each side, began to throw themselves onto the middle, she felt her stomach sink looking lower; there was no safety net.

Marinette subconsciously began to play with her lucky charm, a string bracelet she made one day after school and concentrated her wishes in.

The little girl never took her eyes off of the Flying Graysons; the two men performing life defying flips as they swung onto the different poles. Suddenly two women joined the mix, grabbing onto the men as they flew. Marinette, even as a six year old, knew that they loved what they were doing and were good at it.

Out of nowhere, one of the women was being hung upside down by a man, reaching out for something. Then a boy joined them.

She could almost imagine him laughing, maybe he was, as he was thrown from adult to adult, all while doing flips and tricks between intervals.

Even from a distance she could tell he was not much older than she was, gripping her lucky charm tighter. 

Soon the boy was placed down onto one of the stands, waving at the crowd as they cheered.

“Now for the Flying Graysons’ signature move; the Quadruple Somersault!”

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, Marinette counting the rotations as best as she could. She didn’t notice the photo her nonna took as she stared intently.

As soon as it started, it was over, the Flying Graysons and the rest of the circus coming out for one last act and a bow.

“How’d you enjoy that my little Marinetta?” Marinette could barely stop herself from shouting in joy and jumping around as she began to babble on about the amazing feats of the circus. Her family only laughed along at her enthusiasm as they walked closer to the stands, though Marinette bumped into familiar faces as she did.

“Hey Nino, Kim” the petite girl had caught their attention as their parents were talking to one another. The two waved back at their friend from school, fangirling about the awesome performances they witnessed.

“I have a little surprise for my little Marinetta; I’m sure you’d like to show your friends as well” Marinette couldn’t help but enthusiastically nod as she dragged the two boys where her grandmother was guiding them, their parents trailing slowly behind. The trio noticed Chloe, arms crossed as both her parents seemed occupied with phone calls, promptly ignoring her, as she complained that she wanted to leave. 

She hadn’t known much about Chloe in the year that they’ve been classmates other than she could be a brat at times and was very bosy. They didn’t talk often since Chloe would rather play or give orders around the girls while Marinette didn’t mind getting dirty with the boys. She felt sad for the girl, giving her a small wave; Chloe looked surprised but huffed and gave a small wave back. Chloe wasn’t exactly her friend but she reasoned that the girl didn’t have many. Nino and Kim helped Marinette beacon Chloe closer, pointing at Gina, who had noticed that the kids had stopped and was now watching as they tried to convince the blonde to join them.

She looked skeptical before pulling at her parents’ pants, the two giving different looks, one of annoyance and the other of worry, before she pointed at the group of children. The two eyed one another for a moment before nodding and going back to whatever it was they were doing before.

Now the four children walked behind Gina like ducklings, each giggling and talking about their favorite parts; Kim liked the strongmen, Nino the clowns, Chloe admitted that the ringmaster was her favorite but agreed that Marinette’s choice of the Flying Graysons was acceptable as well. They had been so caught up with each other that they hadn’t realized they were now in the center of the ring until a familiar voice laughed before them.

“Well, if it isn’t the infallible Regina” the kids stood in awe as Haly, as in ringmaster Haly, gave a kiss on both cheeks to Marinette’s nonna.

“Oh that was so long ago Haly dear. I go by Gina or nonna these days” the older woman laughed as she got the kids to approach, “This is my granddaughter and her friends from school”

“Why aren’t you little things?” Haly gave a tip of his top hat, a slight curtsey as he greeted them “ Its always a pleasure entertaining family, say you look close to little Dickie’s age” the man then whistled, some of the workers, they realized were the performers that were beginning to prep for their next show later in the evening, turned around. “Where’s little Dickie?”

“Here!” they looked up to see the young boy from the Flying Graysons wave from the staircase that lead up to the balcony where he and the others would fly. “What’s up Haly?”

“Regina is that you?” the boy turned to see the four older Flying Graysons hug Gina as she returned it in earnest. “Oh look at you all, is that little Richard?”

One of the black haired men and a ginger woman nodded, the boy getting close to them, as they showed him off.

“Our little boy is certainly bigger since last time” the man, John Grayson, chuckled as his wife, Mary, sighed.

“Has it really been two years since you left already?”

“You know me; I can never stay in one place for so long”

“Wow so your grandmother is Regina?” the boy, Richard? Dick?, was looking at Marinette though the girl herself seemed confused.

“Y-Yes? I thought her name was Gina” she looked quizzically, wondering what exactly it was that her grandmother got into when she was exploring the world.

“That’s so cool! I remember her motorcycle routine; it was awesome” the boy exclaimed as the four Parisians re-evaluating the lady they knew as a doting grandmother who traveled a lot.

“Thanks…”

“I’m Richard John Grayson, though everyone just calls me Dick. What’s your name?”

“U-Uh I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng and these are my friends”

“Nino Lahiffe!” the boy seemed to want to bury himself alive given how loud he had unintentionally been.

“Le Chien Kim” the boy laughed, ecstatic because he wanted to see if they could sneak off to where the animals were kept.

“Chloe Bourgeois” the girl said with a flick of her pigtails, almost scoffing at the boy. She supposed he wasn’t awful given he managed to wow her mother when his family performed.

“Y-You’re family was amazing!” Marinette piped up, her face growing red even as her friends joined in afterwards giving their praises.

“Totally cool!”

“Not entirely boring”

“How does it feel?”

“Hmm” Dick hummed pensively before snapping his fingers playfully “ It’s like flying”

“Isn’t it scary?” Marinette shyly asked as she looked up “I was so nervous I kept holding my lucky charm” she pointed at a little handmade bracelet as to emphasize on her point.

“Sometimes but I remember that I’m a Grayson; we’re made to fly” the boy said with as much bravado and certainty as if he had said that the sky was blue.

“O-Oh” Marinette let on before taking off her charm and handing it to him with as much care as a six year old could “I’d feel better knowing you had a lucky charm too”

“Wow Mari you don’t let anyone touch your charm!” Kim exclaimed as the others nodded. She had once tackled a kid who tried taking it from her and moved when another tried grabbing the wrist where it was.

“It’s a great honor” Nino nodded sagely.

“Well then I’ll treasure it forever Mari” Dick laughed along, tying it with little struggle. 

As Gina watched the children she just knew it was the start of something special between the Flying Grayson and her little granddaughter.

[monochromemedic]

Little Christmas thingy

Fallon’s eyes shifted from behind his frosted shades, his gaze hanging on the casual clothes adorning his best friend’s body. You’d think someone dressed in some jeans and a sweater for a Christmas weekend would be... comforting but it was like a final nail in the coffin of unease that was enveloping the man. Why couldn’t he just wear a damn suit like always? Dom looked own at Fallon, how haggard he looked, unhinged. He hadn’t shaved in days, his pale skin donning a greasy sheen that reminded Dom of a hormonal teenager. His small frame was covered in thick coats and a hoodie, but even so the way he slouched made him look miniscule.  “Thank you for coming... by the way. I know you’d probably be anywhere else then your roommate’s parent’s home but, I think it really might help. Especially for Christmas. I couldn’t leave you home in good faith.” “Why, you think I’m gonna pull something?” Fallon scoffed, face turning away from Dom as he rang the doorbell, a harmonious charm echoing in the night air. “What? No, I was just thinking... t-the whole holiday thing, are you?” Dom asked, his voice raising in concern. “Huh? What, no I was just gonna get alcohol poisoning if anything!” Fallon whined, hands slipping out of his jacket pockets to accentuate his sentence. “I’m not some prick that would leave a dead body lying around for someone else to pick up. I’m an ass but I ain’t that much of an ass-” “Jesus Christ, I really hope this is one of your dark jokes-” “It is! It is!” Fallon groaned, his entire demeanor shrinking as the front door opened, his bangs hiding his face as an older woman stepped forth. The woman was short and round in frame, her hair almost white shade of blonde that loosely fell against her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep blue that shine a kindness that she didn’t seem accustomed fully to, like a sudden realization that she truly was happy in life and had to remind herself of that every morning. “Dominic... It’s so good to see you sweetie.” She cooed as Dom  leaned down, embracing his mother in his arms. “Hi Momma, are Cassie and Audie already here?” “Of course, they’re in the kitchen trying to pick at the snacks. But don’t be rude, introduce me to your friend here.” “Mom... this is Fallon. Fallon this is my... mom or I guess-” “Grace. Please, call me Grace.” She interrupted, holding her small hand out towards the lanky man. Fallon eyes darted over her gesture, sheepishly wrapping his boney, cold hand over hers.  “Don’t worry, Dominic isn’t one to gossip about people. He’s always said the nicest things about you dear. When we heard he was bringing you over on such short notice, I was a bit surprised. He never brings ANYONE over for the holidays so I knew you had to be someone special!” Her face fell for a moment, a deep solemn expression as her fingers held his hand closer to her. “Don’t worry honey, we’ll be on our best behavior.” Fallon shirked away, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as Grace let them into the house, Dominic already shedding his jacket and shoes at the door. “Princey can you show Fallon around the place, I need to take care of the food.” Grace called out, entering some distant room of the house to start a playful conversation with some unknown person. Fallon raised an eyebrow, trying to find a hook to hang his jacket on the cluttered coatrack.  “Princey?” Dom sighed, cheeks red as he looked around the house, observing for any changes in the decor. “Ah, that’s my... nickname. The whole King last name... I was her little Prince.” “Adorable, I think I’m gonna go throw up now if you don’t mind.” “Very funny.” He grumbled, lightly pinching Fallon’s ear to playfully drag him room to room. “If you start opening your mouth however, you’re gonna earn a slew of new nicknames yourself. The girls are ruthless... not in the mean way it’s all loving. Hopefully.” Fallon’s feet dragged as he was chauffeured to the living room, the long abandoned bedrooms, bathrooms and eventually the kitchen to where the action seemed to be focused on. Grace was bent over the stove, tending to something cooking in a pot that Fallon couldn’t identify while two women drank and laughed while eating crackers and cheese that was laid before them. One of the sisters had long beautiful blonde hair, dimples prominent on her sharp cheekbones. The other had shorter, dark brown hair, a pair of stylish glasses accentuating her soft features. “Oh wow, he really does have mint green hair!” The brunette chimed out before covering her mouth, walking straight past Dom’s open arms to greet Fallon. “God, I am so sorry, I just... Dom always talks about you says talks about your hair and I always thought it’d be less saturated but god! I’m Audrey by the way, youngest.” Dom’s open arms fell with a sigh as the blonde, presumably Cassie stepped up to him, muttering something softly before embracing him.  “I’m heartbroken Audie, haven’t seen you in a whole year and you walk right past me for the new guy!” Dominic whined only to get a middle finger in return, earning a loud exaggerated gasp of disbelief. “I’ve had to live with you for 18 years, I don’t gotta pay attention to you.” Her attention turned back to Fallon, swirling the eggnog in her glass. “You want a drink? I can spike your nog, makes things ten times more bearable.” “Uh no I-... ya know what sure.” He grumbled, watching as Dom began to converse with the other two women, his being swatted by his mother as tried to steal some of the meal she was preparing. “Wait! That’s what the crackers and veggies are for.” “I’m a growing boy, I need some substance-” “You don’t need anymore! Now you friend-” “Momma...” He groaned, his voice playful but warning her to be careful with her words. “Isn’t it my god given right as-as a maternal figure to over feed any child I see? Isn’t that what I’m here for?” She complained, swatting Dom’s hand again as he tried to dart his hand in while she monologued. He burst into laughter as she caught him again, turning to grab a drink from the fridge in shame. Is this what families did now adays? Good families? Ones with siblings and a parent that didn’t think you were a burden? Fallon had to admit he didn’t fully understand it but the way Dom seemed to brighten up around the others... well who couldn’t be envious of that? Fallon’s thoughts were interrupted by Audrey shoving a drink into his hands, his head turning to meet her face. “I put like a shot worth of rum in there, don’t worry I got you.” She winked, taking a big chug of her own. “Jesus! Did I make that bad of a first impression already that you wanna see me bent over a toilet?” Fallon exclaimed, swirling the thick liquid in the glass, eyes widening even further. “This is like half nog, half shot!” “Look you either take the drink and chill out a bit or you get to wallow in that big rain cloud over your head like the sad sap you are.” Fallon looked at her incredulously, not expecting anything like that from someone who shared a cent of DNA with Dom. He had to respect that. He took a large wig of the concoction, face twisting at how thick the drink really was. “Ay, that a boy, puts down drinks like a champ!” She exclaimed, patting Fallon’s back so hard he lurched forward in surprise. “Audrey be nice.” Cassandra warned “I am! I made the guy a drink, I’m slapping him on the back like the BOYS do ya know BOYS... I’m connecting!”  “You’re breaking him.” “No, No you’d be surprised at how sturdy I can really be. I just think a little nog is making it’s way back into my nasal cavity.” He coughed, face scrunching as he tried to regain his breath. “Hot.” Audrey interjected, earning a look from Cassie.

[inmyarmswrappedin]

DRUCK reactions - s4 ep4

No, I haven’t forgotten about these! I’m a bit behind, but I’m still on track to finish before s5 starts. Although I hope to be done even earlier, because I don’t know if Amira N’s season is going to leave me with a lot of free time.

( @wodrueckts looked this over! 💛)

CLIP 1: Smooth operator

Amira is finishing up her prayer, when we get a quick cut to a picture of Amira and Sam pinned to Amira’s mirror. So, even though Amira and Mohammed had like three separate moments in the last clip of last episode, Druck wants us to think Sam is still in the picture (literally).

Amira gets a text from an unknown number saying, “Wow, Amira, thanks!” She asks who that is, but then checks her other messaging apps for good measure.

So last Friday, Mohammed sent himself a text from Amira’s phone, making Amira out to have for Mohammed the feelings Mohammed has for Amira. Specifically, “I really like you, but you make me really shy somehow.” I like you, but you intimidate me a bit, as Mohammed has been communicating to Amira pretty much since the start. Calling her the woman with the ice cold gaze and such.

I mean, since this is a fiction series and not real life, we know Mohammed is genuine about his feelings. He isn’t playing Amira, he’s her endgame. But this is such a fuckboy move, lol. I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me none of the Penetrator Chrises (or the Williams) would pull something like this.

Amira can’t believe this man, but she’s also charmed! Relatable.

It’s really cute that Amira is so incredulous that Mohammed asks her if texting himself from her phone is bad, that she actually says “Yes!” out loud before she texts it to him.

Mohammed can’t see how charmed Amira actually is, so he acts a bit more vulnerable and confesses he feels the same way. Or rather, that this is how he feels, since Amira wouldn’t necessarily describe herself like that. (I think Amira, rather than shy, is scared.) Of course, this too could be a tactic.

I think it’s interesting that Mohammed comes across as the biggest player of the Yousefs, certainly more than Sofiane in this early stage, but it’s Sofiane who ended up playing Imane.

Anyway, Mohammed sends Amira a song that he hopes she likes. And I think it’s cute that the song is in German. We don’t know how long Mohammed has been living in Germany, but I figure German the language didn’t hugely feature in his life back in Syria. So this is a song he heard in this new country for this girl he met in this new country.

Then Mohammed teases Amira about only listening to Arabic music, and she’s like, “yeah that’s the only music I listen to!” So Mohammed immediately sends her a voice message. Of him singing. In Arabic.

This is adorable, and Amira is obviously charmed as fuck, as am I. And if Mohammed had previously sent Amira a song to symbolize his new life in Germany, this is Mohammed sharing a part of himself from before Germany. It’s very significant and, for me, the most vulnerable he’s been in this clip.

Mohammed is also a bit embarrassed by his singing voice, but Amira clearly doesn’t care. Nobody cares, Mohammed. Keep singing!

CLIP 2: Essam does dumb things to fit in

Amira wakes up to the dulcet sounds of Essam screaming, and doesn’t get what time it is at first.

She and Mohammed were texting until 11 PM, and Amira fell asleep right as she was going to send Mohammed a song. Her last text was at 23:07 and Mohammed waited until 23:53 before wishing her a good night.

A reminder to renew her vaccines for the Australia trip comes in, and Amira first curls up with her phone. Just lost in the romance of it all, until Essam’s shriek cuts through the song lmao.

Amira checks the phone again and wakes up quick when she realizes the appointment is in 45 minutes. She swears a bit, and I’m very intrigued by this because Amira Naybet avoids swear words entirely, going for PG versions of Spanish swear words.

She’s in a rush now, but Essam has locked himself in the bathroom and refuses to come out. They have a bit of a back and forth (Amira’s threats don’t intimidate Essam at all, it seems) before Essam, having wrapped his hair in a towel, finally opens the door.

He asks Amira not to laugh at him and then reveals that he’s bleached his hair… badly. It’s not even yellow, it’s pretty much orange. Amira says he looks like Donald Trump. Trump wishes he had that much hair tbh.

Essam is actually really upset, and even hides his face in the crook of his elbow.   But fortunately he starts laughing a little once Amira cracks up at him. I don’t think I could take sad Essam, it’s completely antithetical to who he is!

Amira asks Essam why he did that to his hair, and said she would’ve helped him if he asked. Essam is all, “no, you wouldn’t. You hate me. You don’t love me at all.” And he just sounds so sincere that I believe he believes that. Like he’s so used to Amira bickering with him (and probably complaining about him to their parents lbr) that he thinks his big sister hates him. It’s just another way in which Essam’s self-esteem is absolutely fragile despite his brash nature.

Essam eventually confesses that he did it because girls (the girls he’s attracted to, that is) only like blond men. The music indicates this is a vulnerable moment for Essam. He feels like he will never be attractive to girls because he’s not white. To Essam, Amira must seem like someone who doesn’t care to fit in with white Germans, because she’s not voicing any complaints that white German boys aren’t knocking at her door. But Essam does want that. Both the white German girls and to fit in.

Anyway, Amira gets this is Essam opening up to her, so she tells him she’ll help fix up his hair. She’s in the middle of sharing her game plan when Mohammed sends a pic, which briefly distracts her.

Essam also sounds sincere when he thanks Amira, and Amira in turn assures Essam she’ll always help him… Though she’s still going to take a picture of him looking like Donald Trump.

We break out of Amira’s POV for a moment, to follow Essam a little longer as he looks at himself in the mirror and tries a Donald Trump sneer. He’s too cute to really pull it off, I’m afraid.

CLIP 3: Everyone (except Amira) is having sex!

I’ll just get it out of the way and say I don’t hate the David/Matteo make outs, nor do I think they were unnecessary.

Like the split screen editing is a bit 🤪 🤪 🤪 creativity! 🤪 🤪 🤪, but the point of this clip is that Amira is surrounded by sexually active people. And David and Matteo have always kept their PDA at cuddling and pecks on the lips in front of people, so it makes sense to me that we’d need to be back on their POV to 1. Show they are into each other, without 2. Actually talking about it with Amira, which would come across as awkward and weird because they’re not that kind of besties.

Like yes, it’s fanservice, but it makes way more sense from a storyline and character standpoint to do it like this than how other Skams handled it.

Though I find it amusing that Druck stans are so vocally opposed to the scene lmao.

Moving on, Kiki and Carlos’ screams of pleasure not only wake up the whole neighborhood from their afternoon naps, but also put off David and Matteo from pursuing their own activities in the hallway.

Amira comes up to them while they’re listening to music and is like, “hey why aren’t you going in?” They’re like, “we don’t want to mention the S word in front of you.” But Amira gets the picture quick once she comes closer to the door.

Druck teases its fans mercilessly as Matteo prods David into admitting his application film is an alien movie with flying body parts. David tries to argue that it’s deeper than that, but lbr this sounds like some campy Z movie nonsense with terrible special effects AND I’M HERE FOR IT. How dare Druck deprive me of this?

Amira’s like, “Yeah that sounds terrible.” Then she starts bickering with Mohammed over text, which makes David and Matteo very 👀 👀 (not that they’re relevant in this season lol).

Then, Sam comes in, and asks why they’re all outside. Unlike Amira, she figures it out for herself and outright asks whether they’re fucking. But she says it in a very pleased way, like she might come in and offer them drinks or condoms, ah god love you!

Amira can’t even take this bit of discussion of sex and wants to come in and end it all. I guess it’s because she’s wondering if people are just going to keep arriving and talking about Kiki and Carlos fucking, although it might also be because she doesn’t know how to be around Sam right now. (Because Sam isn’t just comfortable with people having sex, but she’s sexually active herself.)

Sam grabs Amira’s arm and says not to interrupt Kiki and Carlos, because maybe they’re doing the Happy Baby pose… And like… That’s a yoga pose. I’ll just let y’all google that.

Amira is like, ENOUGH OF THIS! And Sam’s like Okay, miss Priss! Amira wants a second opinion from David and Matteo about this prissiness, and they both plead the fifth.

Right after Sam’s called Amira prissy and put her on the defensive, Sam then says that, in the middle of making out with Abdi, she noticed Amira and Mohammed having a Moment. She’s like, I didn’t know you liked him, I’ll back off.  Amira denies being into Mohammed, but Sam doesn’t buy it.

And like… That’s it for this storyline. It’ll never come up again.

I know that doing away with the Skam love triangle pleased the fandom, but I mean, did Druck really get rid of it? They incorporated it, it features heavily in the first couple episodes and is one of the reasons Amira initially is unsure about the viability of her relationship with Mohammed… But it’s never explored in a meaningful way. It doesn’t develop Sam beyond being interested in boysssssss, it doesn’t develop Sam and Amira’s friendship or explore its nuances as well as the nuances of the hypersexualization of black women as opposed to the assumption that hijabis are repressed. Amira doesn’t even get to tell Sam she likes Mohammed onscreen, she tells Mia instead.

Again, this is a storyline that comes across as not something the writers particularly wanted to do, but they needed some filler for the first couple episodes. And the fact that the show then proceeds to decenter Sam after this, while Kiki’s role only increases, is just incredibly disappointing.

And speaking of Kiki’s presence becoming larger… With this subplot out of the way, Kiki now opens the door, looking very much like Noora when she got out of William’s car in s4. (Crazy idea, but what if it was supposed to be a reference to that? Lmao.)

She’s like, “I and Carlos just got done talking to the landlord, which was a conversation that involved no pants in my part!” Matteo calls shenanigans, Amira’s like, “right,” while Sam and David… Kinda look like they think Kiki’s never looked hotter tbh.

Like I said, I don’t have an issue with this clip, but showing Amira being surrounded by sex, yet not giving Amira the space to verbalize how she feels about this, while also getting rid of the Yousef kissing someone else angle, kinda makes this clip pointless tbh. Like the point of constantly surrounding Sana with sexually active couples was meant to make her feel like she couldn’t give Yousef what he supposedly wanted, i.e. a girlfriend who’d be physical with him.

Again, I’m not saying we have to make the Muslim main feel like shit for not being like a white German (we have enough of that with Essam), but at least give this joke a bit of depth by letting Amira talk about it. One issue with the season is that Amira gets thrown a mountain of microaggressions and ways in which she’s different, but viewers aren’t going to get the point that this adds to the pressures Amira faces unless you hit them over the head with it.

CLIP 4: Foreshadowing – the clip.

Amira is practicing boxing at home in order to have an excuse for her to be covering her hair. (Genuine curiosity, should Skams work this hard on coming up with reasons why their hijabi actresses are covering at home? Like I can see the benefit of not wanting to lead people to think hijabi cover 24/7.)

Mohammed texts her a picture of Angela Merkel doing Merkel hands on which he photoshopped a screenshot of Amira from Matteo’s season, along with the caption: Amira for Chancellor. Mohammed be like, I love this show DRUCK, love making shit posts for it.

Mohammed’s memes have put Amira in a great mood, and Mia chooses that moment to call Amira on Skype. Amira can barely get through the conversation, she’s giggling so much. Mia also comes off as really young in this chat, she acted like more of an adult in s3.

Mohammed keeps texting Amira flirty messages about Amira’s political career, and Mia notices that she’s distracted. She wants to know who’s making Amira smile so much, and Amira deflects and says it’s just her brother. Mia notes that Sam’s been raving about Amira’s brothers (so not just Mohammed), and she and Amira have a bit of a back and forth about Amira hiding Essam and Omar from them.

Then Mohammed sends Amira another meme in which he shops himself as Chancellor Amira’s spin doctor, which is both the cutest and saddest bit of foreshadowing. Amira, not being genre savvy, just finds it charming.

Mia wants to know what’s so funny, and Amira’s like, “can you keep a secret?” Mia, being a former Druck main and thus having seen some shit, is immediately alarmed about what this secret might be, and promises to not say a word.  

But there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing! Amira’s secret is that she kind of likes Mohammed. Not too much because he’s so tall and his hair is so nice and his eyes so dark. His eyebrows are terrible and so is his moustache that makes Amira zero in on his full, soft lips. Plus his body is so nice because he’s always working out! Mia’s like, so where’s the catch?

Amira’s crush is gigantic, and Mia’s so excited for her, but there’s still something holding Amira back. Maybe it’s that it all seems so easy with Mohammed, or that Amira’s not ready to revise her position that all men are shit, or you know, maybe it’s as simple as Amira enjoying being the lovesick one for once and indulging in the giddiness.

At any rate, Alex is visiting Mia next week (in Spain, where Mia totally is), so that’s coming up.  

CLIP 5: Famous last words

Amira and her mom sit down to watch a movie. Amira’s mom is happy to be spending time with her daughter, but Amira is on her phone because Mohammed has asked her, for the hundredth time now, whether she wants to go on a date with him. The man is running out of creative ways to ask Amira out, and she’s still all No ❤️

Amira’s mom wants to know who she’s texting, and Amira says it’s just Kiki. Because Kiki is Amira’s bestie now. Amira’s mom likes her though. She thinks she’s nice and also reminds the viewers of a potential Kiki storyline by commenting on her weight. In hindsight I don’t know why I ever thought s5 wouldn’t somehow deal with Kiki, because the writing is so clearly setting up a Zoë season about Kiki.

Amira’s mom says Amira never confides in her anymore, and eh. I mean, Amira did just lie about who she’s texting, but when Sana’s mom said this to Sana in Skam, it was more significant because Sana had been hiding her Russ plans from her for over three seasons. Amira has been pretty forthcoming with her mom in comparison. She knows about her friends (or about Kiki, at least) and about the trip to Australia. She doesn’t need to know about Amira’s delivery job because she doesn’t have it anymore.

Anyway, Amira bites her lip because she can’t hide this feeling anymore! She likes a boy! He’s nice and smart and cooks well, and Amira’s mom teases her that she’ll never go hungry then, as Amira just burnt the popcorn.

Amira’s mom wants to know whether the boy is handsome (of course!) and Muslim (of course! Famous last words). She wants to meet the boy, but Amira would like to get to know Mohammed better first, which is never going to happen if she keeps turning him down.

With that out of the way, they finally resume watching the movie, which seems to be a Bollywood one because the characters dance all the time. Is it a movie where the climax happens at a wedding, perhaps?? It looks like all the dancing helps Amira make her mind up, as she says, “You only live once.”

CLIP 6: Never leave the house

Amira meets Mohammed at a park, and they exchange a bunch of “Na?” because they’re dumb and into each other. Then Mohammed bravely asks Amira if she missed him, as if he didn’t know at this point that Amira is going to laugh at him. Which she does, because she says no.

They’re in the midst of some mating dance, when Amira notices a hijabi and (presumably) her daughter. She hides behind a tree, because she doesn’t want to be the hot gossip at the mosque, but Mohammed is all, “aw, I remember when I wasn’t traumatized by war and cared about trivial shit like this.”

Or maybe he doesn’t care because he never goes to the mosque. Okay, okay. I’ll stop.

At any rate, this is the first time that Mohammed says or does something that would actually pose a problem to Amira. This is quickly brushed aside because they get lost in each other’s eyes as soon as they make eye contact.

Kiki rudely interrupts this moment, but Amira’s like, “I’m busy, bye.” So she and Mohammed go on a musical montage where they box and push each other, and Mohammed sticks a flower in Amira’s hijab. Just enjoying the romance of it all! Until Amira notices Kiki’s called her three times, and I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.

It turns out that, while the parents were away, Essam decided to throw a rager. And he invited Kiki as he’s been working hard for her to notice him on insta. Kiki thought Amira would be attending this party when she got the invite, and has by now realized Amira wouldn’t approve of any of this.

Amira arrives at the party with Mohammed hot on her heels, and Kiki starts apologizing for thinking this was all on the up and up. Amira says her parents are at a wedding for the whole weekend, and Kiki gets distracted by Amira’s pretty lipstick. I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.

Amira confronts Essam, whose hair is looking a lot better than last time we saw it. Essam doesn’t seem to realize the seriousness of the situation, so Amira leans in and sniffs Essam’s breath. She asks Essam if he’s been drinking but he says no. However, he must be totally out of it because he wanders off, hypnotized by Kiki’s mermaid-esque beauty (or something).

Essam starts dancing with Kiki, who looks uncomfortable but goes along with it. At one point he puts his hand on her hip, and she grabs it and removes it from her body. Carlos (who has been blowing off his friends for weeks but is at this party, lol) notices this as it happens. Carlos shoves Essam and they start fighting.

Essam is bigger, or the German boy squad are lovers, not fighters, or Carlos was totally holding back, but either way Essam gets the upper hand and needs to be pulled off by both Amira and Mohammed. Kiki gets mad at Carlos for getting territorial over her. This is like, one of the most actually feminist moments to happen in a Skam that isn’t Skam España, I gotta say. Meanwhile Amira and Mohammed try to hold Essam accountable, but he starts feeling sick.

As this is all happening, Amira’s mom texts her to let her know that they came back because dad is, coincidentally, also sick (but not for the same reason lol).  Amira tells Kiki, who takes charge of the situation and kicks everyone out. She literally shoves people out of the house, and I just think Kiki was born to do this, tbh.

If you think about Kiki’s mom being an alcoholic, it kinda makes sense that Kiki thinks of spraying some air freshener as she leaves. She also takes a crate of bottles with her, but because this is Sana’s season, a couple are left behind. Amira and Mohammed weirdly hide them under a cushion, even though they have time to fold a blanket and regroup.

Mohammed thinks the date didn’t go too badly!

As Amira’s parents walk in, Mohammed has to carry Essam from where he was previously sitting on the floor waiting for the bathroom to be free, to a couch.

Amira’s mom is surprised to see Mohammed in the house, and I’m like, “why though?” It’s not like his outfit screams date (whereas Amira totally looks date-ready), and he and Essam are friends. Parents are so annoying, bless.

But she gets over it, especially as she notices Essam in a fetal position. She comes over to greet him and notices he’s cradling a vodka bottle like a baby, and of course she asks Amira and Mohammed what that is, cause you know, as the older sibling and friend they should be looking after him!

And then, Mohammed, Amira’s self-proclaimed spin doctor, tells Amira’s mom that he brought the bottle (and it just fell into Essam’s hands I guess lol). Amira’s mom is angry and reminds Mohammed that they’re Muslims, which makes me wonder if she knows he doesn’t believe in Allah. She’s also upset at Amira, because you know, they were just watching a movie yesterday and suddenly Mohammed is bringing vodka to her house for Essam to consume excessively, as Amira supposedly watches on in approval.

Amira doesn’t even respond, she’s so upset.

I think Druck pulled off this storyline the best out of the Sana versions, including Skam itself. One of the biggest problems with this storyline in Sana’s season is that it affected characters Sana wasn’t all that close to. Like, best buds and everything, but at the end of the day, Isak and Sana rarely hung out. Because the show is ultimately about the girl squad, not Isak’s squad or his friendship with Sana. So in Skam this storyline affected a school friend of Sana’s, his boyfriend, and a friend of her brother’s. Druck instead made it about Amira’s brother, one of Amira’s closest friends and her boyfriend.

Druck also chose to introduce this storyline in a multi pov episode, so that we got a better understanding of Kiki’s and Carlos’ mindsets going into the episode.

This will be more debatable, but I personally prefer that Druck didn’t hide the fight from us. In Skam, we don’t get to see the fight because Sana is supposed to believe those islamophobic Pepsi Max girls (and Yousef’s interpretation of why Even transferred) over her own brother. And I’m sure part of Julie’s intention was to make Skam viewers examine their own assumptions as to what happened, but the thing is… If people don’t want to examine their prejudices, they simply won’t. There are Skam viewers who, to this day, are convinced that Julie bowed to political correctness or whatever the fuck.  Druck makes all the characters’ motives clear and show us how the fight happened, and I’m sure there will still be assholes, but at least it’s not a “he said that’s what happened” situation.

It also doesn’t involve hypothetically homophobic Muslims, which was already dealt with in Isak’s (and Matteo’s) season. I personally don’t think this topic needs a rehash in a Sana season unless Sana herself is queer. Similarly, by making Amira’s brother the person to bring alcohol into the house, you don’t need to make the Sana bow down to the peer pressure of white mean girls.

Given that Essam is the one to bring alcohol into the house and to get handsy with Kiki, Druck did the absolutely correct thing and showed us Essam’s vulnerability before the fight. I would say, aside from Yousef, none of the Skam balloon squad was vulnerable in the same fundamental level that Essam is. Of course Elias is happy to hear that Even asked about him, and Mikael is quiet for a moment when he sees Even in his contact list. But ultimately, that’s friend drama. Essam changing his hair in hopes to fit in and be liked is about Essam himself.

I think Druck dropped Essam’s character arc right there because they intended season 5 to air in fall or winter last year. (Otherwise, why make Essam and Zoë Machwitz be the same age?) Now that both Zoë and Essam would be in their last year of high school, and Nora is slated to be the main instead, I hope they find a way to still fit Essam in there. So at least one Mahmood is done justice, you know.

On the downside, the focus on the Essam/Kiki/Carlos/vodka storyline means that Amira’s and Mohammed’s first date is not just cut short, but because of Druck’s time constraints, it also means that it’s mostly cuteness set to music.

Social media

Apparently Abdi heard that, without an insta, he just couldn’t match up to Mohammed, so he got one. Of course the first person he tells is Sam…

Mia posts a picture of a flamenca, because she’s in Madrid. Alex sends her a bunch of messages about arriving on Sunday, but Mia doesn’t respond to them (she did read them though).

Kiki posted a video of her workout, with Essam posting a similar video the day after to no response from Kiki. Kiki later posts a video of her yoga session, and when Essam does the same thing, he actually goes ahead and tags her in the story. The second hand embarrassment was felt across the globe.

After Amira tells Mia about her crush on Mohammed, she texts Sam to let her know as well. Sam takes it well (she’d pretty much figured it out after all). They agree to hang out later, and we get a couple pics on insta to commemorate the event. Which Abdi later copies to get Sam’s attention.    Just a terrible week for thirsty men on Druck.

Meanwhile, Matteo takes David to meet his mom, and David later posts an evocative drawing to commemorate the event. And that’s all we’re ever told about that, much to the frustration of David/Matteo stans.

Abdi poses with a sleeping Sam and posts the pic to his insta and omg, Abdi! Just stop.

Before the party, Kiki and Carlos fight over text because Carlos has decided to get a Fachabi rather than an Abi (so, like, a kind of high school diploma that would make it harder for him to go to uni, and better suited for a trade) without telling Kiki. I gotta say, I know Kiki and Carlos have moved in together and everything, but I think Carlos’ tertiary education being a team decision is way too intense for two high school graduates, as far as I see it.

There’s this one pic from Kiki’s stories where Essam is posing with a bunch of white girls, and it just gave me the worst flashbacks to those sorority videos where everyone is scarily in sync.

Final thoughts

The boy squad and balloon fight is the turning point in Sana’s season, and by moving it up and combining it with the booze left behind storyline, Druck turned it into a side storyline about Essam, instead. As I said, I think they pulled it off much better than Skam, but it also means that this is Amira’s third episode and Druck has chewed through most of the storylines in Sana’s season (including the love triangle with Noora/Sam, which is tossed aside this episode).

At this point, the only storylines left are Yousef’s lack of faith, Noorhelm drama and… The cyberbullying storyline which ends up unintentionally hurting Vilde. Ideally, Druck would’ve focused on the former of the three, and would have still gotten four episodes to really deal with it in a nuanced way, but we’ll see how that worked out.  

[fuckyeahjamieandclaire]

Sam Heughan (left) and Caitriona Balfe as Jamie and Claire Fraser in “Outlander” —S‍‍TARS‍‍Z

LOS ANGELES—“The first episode is going to be for the fans,” Sam Heughan said about Season 5 of his hit time-travel drama series, “Outlander,” where he and Caitriona Balfe play Jaime and Claire Fraser, respectively.

“It gives the fans a moment to enjoy spending time with the Frasers and the extended family,” added Sam, dapper in a navy Armani suit, complete with a pocket square, in this LA interview.

“The wedding episode gives them time to wallow in that. But of course, things go downhill pretty quickly, so they get a little breathing space before we get into the drama.”

Sam talked some more about the devoted fans of the series based on Diana Gabaldon’s book series. Season 5 is based on the fifth book, “The Fiery Cross.”

“The fans are definitely fervent and extremely excited,” the blue-eyed Scot said. “We have the premiere coming up next month and we’re going to be in Los Angeles.”

Looking boyish with his short blonde hair, Sam grinned as he dished about the wig his Jamie character wears. “I didn’t wear a wig on the first two seasons, or a season and a half. My hair was dyed. I eventually had so much dye that my hair went purple. So we wigged it, which has been great.

Speaking of age, Sam turns 40 in April this year. “Oh God, thanks for reminding me,” the heartthrob reacted with a laugh. “This season, Jamie hits 50. I think he’s looking quite good (laughs). But yeah, I have my 40th birthday in April, so I’m quite excited about it. I definitely feel like taking stock as you do every year.

“I am inspired by a lot of different people, but I’d like to emulate someone like Paul Newman or a sportsman I know. I feel very positive about it, and I’m sure Jamie does, too.” The Newman reference is not random—more about that toward the end.

The milestone reminded Sam of his younger years when he was trying his luck in Los Angeles. “Yesterday, I almost felt the ghost of myself going past. I was sitting in this car in a nice suit I didn’t pay for, and going off to do some press. I just felt very lucky.”

He also recalled, “When I graduated from drama school (Royal Conservatoire of Scotland), I was 23, 24. I was always going for the juvenile lead part and quickly found out that I was losing the jobs to younger, much better-looking lads.

“When you get to my age and beyond, the parts get better. It’s not the same for women and that’s a shame because it does feel that there’s some disparity there.”

For the fans of “Outlander,” one of the big “reveals” in the new season’s trailer is the sight of the Scottish Jamie wearing the red coat of—gasp—the British Army. “It’s a bit of a spoiler,” he admitted. “That is such a huge moment because of Jamie’s history and his past. That uniform stands for everything that he has fought against.”For Sam, Jamie’s evolution in the Starz series keeps him engaged. “The show is constantly changing. I’m not stuck playing the same character. He has all these great responsibilities now. He feels the weight of that.“I would like to emulate some of Jamie’s qualities. He’s very loyal and quite stubborn. The love that Jamie has for Claire—it would be amazing to find something like that myself.”

The actor, who started playing Jamie when he was in his early 30s, remarked on the long run of “Outlander.” “We never knew where we would get to in this. It’s amazing—we’re still here and there still seems to be a great appetite for it. The show has found a home on Starz but obviously, being on Netflix has helped, as well.

“This season, the pressure is much greater. And we know that the Revolutionary War of Independence is coming, so Jamie knows what’s at stake here. He knows he’s on the wrong side. But he’s doing it for the greater good.”

In the meantime, in Sam’s own life, having a relationship is tough. “Certainly, relationships are hard when you’re working in Scotland 10 months a year. I travel a lot and any downtime I have, I’m trying to do other projects, so very much, my career comes first. Maybe I will find someone eventually.

“My whole career, not just ‘Outlander’ but as an actor, I have always put that first. It’s hard when you travel a lot. My priority has been my career, so that’s where I am at the moment. But I am sure at some point, I will get knocked off my feet, then I’m screwed (laughs).”

On and off the set, Sam has found a friend in Caitriona, with whom he spends a lot of time working together. “Poor girl,” he cracked.

“She is such a wonderful woman—intelligent and creative,” he praised his costar who married music producer Anthony McGill in August last year. “More than anything, she’s a good friend. She forces me sometimes to socialize when I don’t want to. She’s a social animal. It’s wonderful to be part of, and always welcomed into, her world.

“I am quite relaxed sometimes. I let things go. She’s very strong and likes to get things done. That probably winds her up. I shouldn’t say it, but I know when she is pissed off (laughs). She does a little foot tap. So, if I see her tap her foot, I’m like, here we go. I can see it.”

“Outlander’s” popularity—and Sam’s rise—have led to many opportunities. Sam is now planning to be a producer, as well. “I have definitely been trying to find other projects to produce,” he announced.

“As an actor, you always want to do other things. This last year, I got to play characters that are very different from Jamie Fraser—‘Bloodshot’ being one of them that happens next month.”

“I wouldn’t say my character is the bad guy,” Sam said of his Jimmy Dalton part in the action-drama-fantasy, “Bloodshot,” which costars Vin Diesel and Guy Pearce. “But he’s certainly a very angry man. It’s a lot of fun to play that character.

“I was on wires flying through the air and fighting Vin Diesel (laughs). As an actor, those are the moments where you go, oh Christ, can I actually do this?”He added, “I did an independent action movie called ‘SAS: Red Notice,’ which is based on a series of books by a writer who’s also the most decorated British Special Forces soldier, Andy McNab.”

“My character is going to Paris to propose to his fiancée, and the Eurostar gets taken over by mercenaries,” he shared. “The movie sits between Jason Bourne and James Bond.

“Then, I did a couple of days on a movie (‘An Unquiet Life’) about Roald Dahl and Patricia Neal, where I got to play Paul Newman.” The film depicts the tumultuous marriage between the actress, Patricia, and the writer, Roald.

The Paul Newman? “Yes, big shoes to fill,” he replied with a smile. “I felt the responsibility of that. But the more I found out about Paul, the more I was in awe of him. What an incredible man.

“I’m not sure I look like Paul, but I tried to bring a lot of his mannerisms into the scenes. It’s a very small part in a bigger movie. It’s at the moment when he is meeting Patricia Neal and they’re about to go off and film ‘Hud.’

“I watched a lot of his movies, but for me, ‘The Hustler,’ which is my favorite of Paul Newman’s movies, is when he really begins to hit his strength.”

As Sam pursues film projects, he knows that he has at least one more season of “Outlanders.” Starz has renewed the show for a sixth season. Still, Sam wonders. “I do sometimes think, what am I going to do when it is over? I think I will actually be quite upset and sad, and it will be a great loss.

“I probably will always have Jamie Fraser with me at some point, even when the show is over.”

Read more:

https://entertainment.inquirer.net/361221/sam-heughan-on-turning-40-new-outlander-season-playing-paul-newman-in-film#ixzz6BrxWUd8z

[bechloeislegit]

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases

Note from BeChloeIsLegit: Hey everyone! I want to take a moment and thank everyone for their thoughts and prayers. I greatly appreciate them all. Everything is fine now, and things are back to normal. So, thank you! Virtual hugs to you all!

DAY 20 - MERRY PITCHMAS!

Prompt from the Author: Sort of a PP3 AU where the beloved Barden Bellas go on a USO Christmas Tour and are assigned two soldiers as security and escorts throughout their tour; both have piqued Chloe's interest.

Chloe Beale followed her Bella sisters across the tarmac. She looked around at all the planes and equipment and stopped when the girls stopped.

"What have we here?" Flo asked standing up straight and fussing with her hair.

Chloe followed Flo's line of sight to see two soldiers coming across the tarmac toward them; both were looking quite hot in their uniforms. Chloe bit her lip as she watched the two soldiers. "Maybe this tour won't be so bad after all," she thought.

"Good afternoon, Bellas, I'm Captain Chicago Walp, and we will be your escorts for the next ten days. Welcome to Rota, Spain, ladies."

Captain Chicago Walp stands there like some alpha male wearing aviator shades. The other soldier, a female, looked rather stern. Her hair pulled into a tight bun under her cap. She was also wearing aviator shades but something told the girls, she saw everything.

Captain Walp introduced the woman next to him as Captain Beca Mitchell.

"Captain Mitchell and I will be accompanying you on this European tour and providing security for you as well."

Captain Mitchell pulled off her sunglasses and looked over the group. "Ladies," she said. "Please call me Beca."

Chloe couldn't help but notice Captain Mitchell's eyes as she took off her sunglasses. They were a dark blue, like the lower depths of the ocean. Or maybe a new denim jacket.

Chloe also noticed that Captain Walsh's eyes were blue, too, and he had a nice smile. She looked them both up and down.

Chloe was shaken out of her scrutiny of the two Captains when Captain Walp began speaking again.

"You may call me Chicago," the Captain said with his boyish grin. "As I was saying, Beca and I will be your security escorts throughout your time here for the USO tour. And, believe me, you won't find anyone tougher than Captain Mitchell. Well, except for me of course."

Beca rolled her eyes at him but didn't say a word. Chloe could tell that Captain Mitchell was not a fan of Captain Walp's. She was curious to know why because he was good looking and seemed like a nice guy. She needed something to occupy her mind besides worrying over rent, vet school, and her lack of love life, so maybe she could unravel this mystery and have a little fun while doing it.

"Um, so this is first base," Fat Amy said waving her hand around. "Will we be going to second base and then third base with you?"

Beca looked over at Chicago and said with a smirk, "Well, Captain. Will you be going to second or third base with the young lady?"

"Um, okay," Captain Walp said glaring at Beca. "We will take you over to the hangar and introduce you to the other bands, and you'll have your sound check. We'll then escort you to dinner at eighteen hundred."

Chloe raised her hand and said, "Eighteen hundred? Is that like after night time?"

"It's six o'clock p.m.," Chicago said with a shy smile.

Beca rolled her eyes. "Here we go again," she thought.

"Follow me, ladies," Beca said and turned to head toward the hangar. "During your stay, you will be required to let me or Chicago know if you plan to do something outside the group. One of us is to be with you at all times. No exceptions."

"Is that normal?" Aubrey asked the question as she walked beside Beca.

"It's our normal while you're here," Beca said. "Per General Posen's orders."

"So, my dad had something to do with this?"

"You're General Posen's daughter?" Chicago asked, his interest piqued.

"Yes, I am," Aubrey said.

"It is very nice to meet you," Chicago said and smiled at Aubrey. He stayed by Aubrey's side as they walked.

Beca shook her head and continued to the hangar. Chloe continued to watch the interactions between Beca and Chicago with great interest. Her scrutiny of the two Captains didn't have anything to do with how hot they were.

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

After a rather embarrassing introduction to the other groups on the tour, Chloe was excited to hear that there was a competition. DJ Khaled was going to choose one of the bands to sign to his label and perform on the last night of the tour on his USO Christmas Special. This was a chance for the Bellas to prove they were not a joke and belonged on the tour and in the competition.

Chloe was excited that CR and Emily came up with some kickass songs for them to sing. They also helped her and Flo with choreography. She was proud of what they accomplished in such a short amount of time.

Chloe was also proud that she was given a solo for part of each song. She loved to sing, and after three years of not singing as part of this group, she couldn't wait to get back to it.

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

The first show the Bellas performed in was a big letdown. At first, the audience didn't know what to make of them.

They were all tense and nervous when they began but finally managed to find their groove. The audience was starting to show signs of enjoying their set when Taps suddenly started playing, leaving the Bellas onstage unsure of what to do. After that, they were the laughing stock of the tour, and it was only the first show.

The next stop was Italy, and they decided the needed more rehearsal time, so Beca was able to secure them rehearsal space at the hotel where they were staying.

The Bellas were going through their set as Beca and Chicago sat watching them. Well, Beca was watching while Chicago had his phone out and was busy texting someone.

Beca didn't care; she was enjoying the music and found herself silently singing along with the words. She was intrigued a bit by the 'making music with their mouths.' She was fascinated by the sounds that they were making with no instruments in sight.

"Text me when they're almost ready to go," Chicago said as she stood. "I've got things to do."

"Does the girl know that you consider her a thing?" Beca looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, I thought you'd be too busy kissing General Posen's daughter's ass or trying to get into the redhead's pants to have time for someone else."

"I'm a multi-tasker," Chicago said with a smug look. "I can do all three and still have time for you."

"You really are a disgusting pig," Beca said and grimaced.

"Jealous much, Mitchell?" Chicago laughed as he walked out of the room.

Beca again just grimaced and shook her head. She looked back over to the Bellas and saw the redhead and the blonde and could only frown. Because the sad truth was that he would probably end up with having had both of them in his bed at some point before this tour was over.

Chloe continued her part of the song and dance but had also been watching Chicago and Beca. Something was up there, and she made a plan to talk to Beca about it.

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

The rehearsal was over, and Beca had texted Chicago only to have him text her back that he'd meet up with them after dinner. Beca sighed and gathered the girls around her.

"Next up is dinner," Beca told them. "I'll escort you to your rooms so you can freshen up before we head to dinner."

"Where's Captain hottie?" Fat Amy asked as she looked around for Chicago.

"Ew," Beca muttered. "If you mean Chicago, he is, um, busy, and will catch up with us after dinner. Please follow me, ladies."

Beca led the girls to the elevators and rode up to the fourth floor with them. They all scattered to their rooms while Beca made her way to her room. Chloe was still walking next to her and Beca glanced over at her.

"Um, don't you want to freshen up?"

"My room is next to yours," Chloe said with a giggle as she reached her room.

"Oh, right," Beca said and walked over to her door. "I'll see you in about thirty minutes."

"You know it," Chloe said and winked at Beca.

Beca could only stand there as Chloe smiled and entered her room. Beca could feel herself blush as she entered her room.

Beca changed into a pair of ripped skinny jeans, a navy blue v-neck tee, and combat boots. She let her hair down out of its bun and brushed it, leaving it hanging down her back and over her shoulders. She grabbed a black leather jacket and put it on before heading out the door.

Beca was waiting in the hallway with her earbuds in listening to some music. She didn't hear when CR and Emily came out from their shared room as her back was to them.

CR and Emily smiled as they stood listening to Beca sing.

Come on, come on, turn the radio on It's Saturday and I won't be long Gotta paint my nails, put my high heels on It's Saturday and I won't be long

'Til I hit the dance floor Hit the dance floor I got all I need

Beca turned just then and let out a squeal. She pulled her earbuds out and blushed. "Sorry, I didn't know you guys were standing there."

"You have a lovely voice," Emily said.

"You sing like that," CR said. "And you look like that out of your uniform? I think Amy called the wrong Captain hottie."

Beca smiled and winked at CR. "Thanks!"

"Are you off duty?" Emily asked as she noticed Aubrey and a few others stepping out of their rooms.

"No. We are allowed to wear street clothes when we're on security detail," Beca explained. "We were in uniform earlier because we had to report to the base. From here on I will be in street clothes to be less obvious and not attract unwanted attention to you ladies."

Beca checked the group and saw Chloe hadn't come out yet. She turned to go to Chloe's door when it opened and the redhead stepped out. Beca swallowed and the two women stared at each other for a moment.

Chloe had changed into jeans and a light blue top that fell off one shoulder. She had also let her hair down and had it gathered and clipped on the right side.

Beca broke the stare and turned to face the rest of the group. Chloe found herself checking Beca out after she turned her back on her. Chloe couldn't help but smile because Beca looked hot in her uniform, but seeing her in street clothes, Chloe thinks she just got hotter.

"Ready to go ladies?" Beca said her voice a little high. She cleared her throat. "There's a really nice place just a few minutes walk from here."

"Let's go," Fat Amy said and rushed toward the elevators.

Chloe walked next to Beca again as they moved with the rest of the group.

"You look really nice," Chloe said.

"Oh, um, thanks," Beca said. "You look really nice, too."

"Thank you," Chloe said with a big smile.

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

The girls had ordered their meals and were sipping on their drinks. The girls wanted to know more about Beca and started asking questions.

"Where'd you learn to sing like that?" Emily asked. "I mean what little we heard was really good. Did you have training?"

"You can sing?" Chloe asked looking at Beca.

"Um, yeah," Beca said. "I started in my middle school's choir and even joined glee club in High School. We did win the State championship my Senior year."

"She has some killer pipes," CR said.

Beca blushed and said, "Thanks, again."

The girls grew quiet for a bit and Beca looked around the table.

"What about all of you," Beca said. "It's almost Christmas. Do you love singing so much that you left your families behind to come on this tour?"

"Not really," Chloe said. "It's for the USO and we wanted to do it for the troops."

"What about your family?" Aubrey asked Beca. "As you said, it's almost Christmas. Do you ever get back home for it?"

"I don't care to," Beca said with a shrug. "There's really nothing for me at home. My dad left my mom and me when I was six. I didn't see him again until my mom died when I was sixteen. I was with him and his new family until I turned eighteen and was eligible to enlist. The army has been my family for the last eight years."

"Hmm, so she's my age," Chloe thought. "And she can sing. I wonder if she's gay. Or even bi..."

"Can I ask you a personal question?" This from CR on Beca's left.

"Sure," Beca said.

"How do you handle being gay and being in the military?"

Chloe perked up at this, quite interested in the answer.

"The first year wasn't easy," Beca said. "I came in a year before Don't Ask, Don't Tell was abolished. That first year, I had my troubles with a few of the men, but I know how to defend myself and they quickly learned not to fuck with me. Now, no one cares. At least no one I've come in contact with. Are you thinking of joining?"

"I want to join the Air Force," CR said. "Learn how to fly."

"That's cool," Beca said with a smile. "I know a few kickass female pilots. You'll love it."

Chloe was practically swooning. Beca was becoming more and more interesting by the minute.

CR smiled and thanked her. Beca looked over at Aubrey.

"How does your family do it?"

"Do what?" Aubrey asked.

"Be okay with being so far away from each other," Beca said. "Especially during holidays and such."

"We just are," Aubrey said. "My dad was in the military when I was born. I didn't know any other way of life."

Before anything more could be said, their food was placed in front of them. The girls started eating and Beca kept giving side glances to Chloe.

"So, what's up with you and Chicago?" Chloe asked when they were almost done eating.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been watching you two. You don't seem to like him much."

"Um, I just don't like guys like him," Beca said not wanting to say too much.

"Guys like him?" Chloe asked. "You mean really hot and cute? Or is it because he's so sweet?"

"Don't let his 'aw shucks' boyish charm fool you," Beca snapped out without thinking. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. It's just that; he's a player. And you should warn Aubrey that he's going to try and use her to get in her father's good favor. He's all about kissing ass and hooking up with no attachments. Just be careful around him."

"Oh," Chloe said and looked at Aubrey. "She's my best friend. I won't let him get to her."

"I, uh, meant you, too," Beca said, deciding to put it out there. "He's got his sights set on you both and I don't want to see either one of you get hurt."

"Don't worry about me," Chloe said with a wink. "I'm a big girl and I can handle him."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were that into him." Beca stood suddenly. "Excuse me."

Before Chloe could say anything else, Beca left the table and headed for the restroom.

"Dammit," Chloe said under her breath when she realized what it must have sounded like to Beca.

Chloe wanted to go after Beca to explain that she misunderstood what she was saying but Chicago was suddenly there and sitting in Beca's now empty seat. He gave Chloe that stupid grin he thought was so cute.

"Saved a seat for me did you?" Chicago said and winked at her.

"Actually, that's Beca's seat," CR said from Chicago's other side.

"Her loss then," Chicago said with a shrug. He looked around the table. "If you girls are done we can head back to the hotel."

"We have to wait for Beca," Chloe said.

"Oh, come on, Red," Chicago said turning to face Chloe. He put his arm around the back of her chair. "She's an adult. I'm sure she can find her way back. I'm tired and would like to go to bed." He leaned a bit closer to Chloe. "Wouldn't you like to go to bed?"

"We're not leaving until Beca gets back," Chloe said pushing him away from her.

Beca came out of the restroom and looked over to the table. She frowned when she saw Chicago in her seat facing Chloe and Chloe facing him with her hand on his chest.

"I guess she really does go for the douchebag," Beca mumbled to herself as she walked over to the table.

Beca stopped next to Aubrey's seat and looked around the table. "If you ladies are done, I think we should get back to the hotel. I'll take care of the check."

Chicago looked over his shoulder at Beca and gave her a wink before turning back to Chloe. Chicago was blocking Beca's view of Chloe. She was glad in a way because she didn't want to see the look of adoration that usually accompanied Chicago's seduction tactics. She had hoped that Chloe would be immune.

Beca turned and walked away from the table to find their waitress. The girls started gathering their stuff and stood to wait for Beca. Chicago put his arm around Chloe and she shrugged him off.

"Please don't," Chloe said. "I'm not interested."

Beca paid the bill and motioned the girls to follow her. She walked out of the restaurant trusting that Chicago would do his job and usher the girls out.

They make it back to the hotel and Chicago mentions getting a drink at the bar.

"We're on duty," Beca said.

"We're in street clothes," Chicago said. "No one's going to know or find out. Right girls?"

"I think we should call it a night," Aubrey said. "We have to prepare for our show tomorrow and I want us all to bring our A game."

"Aw, come on Cap," Fat Amy said. "It wouldn't hurt if we went just for a little bit. We can have a drink or two to help us unwind before we go to bed."

"It might be fun," Ashley said.

"Aubrey's right," Chloe said looking at the girls. "I think we should call it a night."

"You girls can do what you want," Chicago said. "But, I'm going to the bar. Anyone who wants to come, the first drink is on me. Who's with me?"

"I'm coming," Fat Amy said.

"Amy, don't," Aubrey said.

"No, Aubrey," Fat Amy said. "You're not the boss of me. If I want to go for a drink, I'm going for a drink."

"Sorry, Aubrey," Jessica said. "It's just one drink. Count me in."

"Me, too," Ashley said. "Emily? CR? How about it?"

"Count me out," CR said.

"Um," Emily said looking at Aubrey and then at Chloe. "As long as it's only one drink, I don't see the harm."

"Okay, ladies," Chicago said with a grin. "Let's go."

Chicago walked away and headed for the hotel's bar. Fat Amy, Ashley, Jessica, and Emily all followed him.

"I'll go to keep an eye on them," Lily told Aubrey.

Chloe, CR, and Aubrey were left standing alone with Beca. Beca watched the girls follow Chicago into the bar.

"I'll escort you guys to your rooms," Beca said as she turned back to the three remaining Bellas. "Then I'll come back down and keep an eye on the others to make sure they are okay."

"Beca, could you give us a minute please?" Chloe asked.

"Sure," Beca said and moved away to give them some privacy.

"Brey, I think we should probably go with them. Beca said Chicago's nothing but a player. I don't want him messing with any of our girls."

"Beca said she'd come back and keep an eye on them," Aubrey said. "I trust her. She won't let him do anything."

"Yeah, Chlo," CR said. "I agree with Aubrey. Plus, I'm beat and just want to get comfortable and relax."

"Okay," Chloe said with a sigh. "Beca? We'd like to go to our rooms, please."

Beca nodded and turned toward the elevators. The three girls followed her and she escorted them to their rooms. Beca started walking Chloe to her room when Chloe stopped her.

"I want to go back down with you," Chloe said.

Beca looked at her and mumbled, "Of course you do."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing," Beca said. "Let's go."

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

Beca looked around as soon as she entered the bar. It was crowded but she managed to find the girls.

"Where's, Walp?" Beca asked as she looked at the girls. "And Emily?"

"I don't know," Jessica said. "Chicago bought a round of drinks and then went off with Emily somewhere."

"What?!" Beca was fuming. "I'm going to kill him," Beca said and turned to Chloe. "You girls stay put. I'll find Emily."

"I'm going with you," Chloe said. "Emily is naive and will take anything he tells her to heart."

Beca was surprised by Chloe's words but didn't have time to think about it as she had to find Emily.

It didn't take long to find Emily and Chicago. Emily was sitting on a stool in the back corner of the bar. Chicago was handing her a shot and based on the empties in front of her she had already had a few.

Beca hurried over and grabbed the shot and slammed it on the bar, causing most of it to spill out. She was facing Chicago with Emily behind her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Beca said and turned to Emily. "Come on, Emily. Let's you get you to your room."

"Leave her alone," Chicago said pushing Beca away from Emily. "We were just starting to have some fun. She's a big girl and doesn't need you to babysit her."

"She's young and naive," Chloe yelled at him and took Beca's place between Chicago and Emily. "Come on, Emily."

Chloe took the younger girl's arm and pulled her up. She moved to allow Emily to push away from the stool. Chicago grabbed Chloe's arm causing her and Emily to stumble. Beca tried to keep them from falling to the floor but their momentum took all three of them down. Beca landed on her back with an "oomph", Chloe landed to the side, and Emily's foot got tangled in the stool.

"Ow!" Emily screamed. "My ankle."

Chloe pushed herself up and looked over at Emily. Beca managed to get herself up and knelt next to the girl. Chloe scrambled to kneel next to Emily as well.

"I need to check your ankle, Emily," Beca said gently.

Emily nodded her head and Beca used both hands to feel and press around Emily's ankle.

"Ow, ow," Emily said wincing in pain.

"Sorry," Beca said. "It doesn't feel broken, but I think it might be sprained. We'll have to get you to checked out. Walp, get the-" Beca didn't see Chicago anywhere. "Where'd he go?"

"I don't know," Chloe said.

"Okay," Beca said and jumped up. She asked the bartender if they had a hotel doctor. Upon hearing they did, she turned to Chloe. "We need to get Emily to her room so the hotel doctor can examine her ankle."

"Okay," Chloe said.

Just then Chicago came back with the other girls in tow. They all rushed over to Beca and Emily.

"Emily, we're going to stand you up," Beca said. "Chloe, can you help me get her up?"

"Yeah," Chloe said.

They manage to get Emily up and she's hanging onto Chloe to keep from falling over.

"I’ll carry her," Chicago said.

Chicago put Emily's arm around his neck and scooped her up. They made their way out of the bar and up to Emily's room.

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

It was almost an hour later and the doctor had finished his exam. He spits off something in Italian to Beca and she nodded her head and responded. He handed Beca a bottle of pain pills and gathered his stuff. Beca walked him to the door.

"Grazie dottore," Beca said as the doctor left Emily's room. She closed the door and walked back over to the bed. "The doctor said it's a sprain. He left you some pain pills and said you need to stay off your ankle for at least a week."

"Okay," Emily said, still slightly drunk.

"A week?" Chloe was upset about Emily being hurt by also because they needed her for the show. "What are we going to do? We need her for the show. If she can't perform, we're going to have to drop out."

"Not necessarily," CR said with a smile.

"CR's right," Emily said catching on to CR's train of thought. "We just need to find a replacement for me. Someone who's seen us practice and is a good singer.

CR and Emily are smiling as they look at Beca.

"Beca!" Chloe said also catching on. "You can take Emily's place."

"No, no, no," Beca said shaking her head. "Absolutely not."

"Not so fast, Mitchell."

Beca scrunches her face up. "Yes, General."

Beca had forgotten that Aubrey had called her dad when Emily got hurt. He had rushed over to the hotel to make sure everything was okay. He got an earful about Chicago when he got there.

"My daughter tells me you can sing," General Posen said. "Since the injury occurred on your watch, I think it is only fitting that you do whatever is necessary to help them out. Don't you?"

"Is that an order, sir?"

"If it has to be." General Posen stands in front of Beca. "It's for my daughter. And I will do anything for my daughter. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Beca said. "I'd be happy to replace Emily in the show."

"Yes," Chloe squealed and grabbed Beca in a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!."

Beca smiled into Chloe's shoulder and the hug lasted for a moment longer. She pulled back and the two smiled at each other.

"Walp, let's go," General Posen said. He turned to Aubrey. "I'll have a new security detail here for you in the morning."

"Thanks, daddy," Aubrey said and hugged the General.

The girls watched as the General and Chicago left the room.

"So, what do you need me to do?" Beca asked.

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

They had three shows over the next six days and they all went well for the girls. They decided to forget about the competition and just have fun during the shows. Beca showed them how to mashup two or three songs and they added a few Christmas songs into their set. The audience loved it.

They were in Paris and it was Christmas Eve. They had one more show that night before the Christmas Special was to air the next night. The Bellas were ready to put on a good show and got a standing ovation when they were done. Chloe was so excited that she grabbed Beca in a hug and kissed her. Beca was shocked and the kiss was over before she knew what was happening.

Since it was Christmas Eve, the girls met in the hotel bar to celebrate. Beca joined them and Fat Amy ordered shots. She brought the tray to their table and began to hand them out.

"Amy, do not give Emily a shot," Chloe said. "Her ankle's almost healed and we don't want her reinjuring herself by getting drunk."

"Yes, ma'am," Fat Amy said. She held up her shot and said, "To us!" before downing the shot.

"To us!" The Bellas all downed their shots and laughed.

"I want to thank you all," Beca said. "This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

Chloe nudged Beca's shoulder and smiled at her.

"So, Beca," Aubrey said from across the table. "My dad tells me your time is up and you're not reenlisting."

"Excuse me, ladies," a British voice interrupted them. "My name is Theo and I work for DJ Khaled."

"Really?" Emily asked as she practically bounced in her seat.

"Yes, really," Theo said with a laugh. "DJ Khaled would like to meet with the Barden Bellas in the morning. He has chosen you as the winning group and would like to sign you to his label."

The girls all looked at him open-mouthed in astonishment.

"Are you serious?" Aubrey finally asked. "We won the competition?"

"Yes, to both questions," Theo said. "Khaled wants the Barden Bellas to perform on his Christmas Special tomorrow evening. Once we get to the States, we can talk more about recording an album."

"Um, what time and where will the meeting be in the morning?" Aubrey asked.

"Around eleven in his hotel across the street," Theo said. "He wants you to enjoy your Christmas morning together."

"We'll be there," Aubrey said with a smile.

Theo thanked them and left. Once he was gone, the girls went wild. Beca sat back and smiled at them.

The girls settled down and Chloe plopped herself on Beca's lap, again surprising her with such a bold move. Chloe threw one arm around Beca's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. "Are you really leaving the Army?"

"Yeah," Beca said as she pulled back slightly. "I was going to make it a career, but this last week has shown me how much I miss music. I want to find something in the music industry to make a new career out of it."

"You already have a new career in the music industry," Chloe said.

"Do you know something I don't know?"

"You're a Bella," Chloe said. "And Bellas are for life."

"She's right," CR said. "You need to sign with them. I'm going into the Air Force and they'll need to replace me in the group."

"Yeah, Beca," Fat Amy said. "It wouldn't be right if you didn't sign with us."

The other girls smiled and nodded. Beca swallowed the lump in her throat. "You girls have become like family to me in a very short period of time. I'd be honored to stay in the group."

The girls all cheered and held up another shot before downing it. Chloe used the arm around Beca's shoulder to pull her closer and join their lips. This time Beca returned the kiss.

Chloe was the first pull back from the kiss. "I am really looking forward to spending more time with you," she said.

"Me, too," Beca said before rejoining their lips.

This time Beca pulled back from the kiss. She smiled at Chloe's swollen lips and glazed eyes and couldn't help but lean in for another kiss. "Merry Christmas, Chloe," Beca said just before their lips met again.

[fuckyeahevanrwood]

"No Bra, No Panties": How Thirteen Defined A Generation Of Women

Catherine Hardwicke was paid $3 on Thirteen — $2 for the screenplay, which she co-wrote with actress Nikki Reed (then 13), and $1 for directing. Fifteen years later, that film stands out as a still-potent cultural milestone for women who grew up in the early aughts — a searing snapshot of the twisted, painful turmoil of being a teenage girl, without the redeeming after school special epilogue. Thirteen spoke to us, not at us. 

“I was a first time director,” Hardwicke said during a Refinery29 roundtable for the landmark movie's anniversary— the first time Hardwicke, Reed, and Evan Rachel Wood have been together since its release. “All the characters are women, and it was going to be rated R and about a teenager. That does not check the boxes for any studio.”

So, in her pursuit to get the film made, Hardwicke worked for nothing and poured whatever money she could into production. The filmmaker, who would go on to direct the first installment in the massive Twilight franchise, used her own furniture as props. Her car makes an appearance, as do some of her clothes. She and the cast, including leads Wood and Reed, slept in the rented house in Los Angeles where they filmed, often in the same bed. (Since then, the film has turned a profit — Hardwicke says she received a check for $18,000 two months ago.)

All of this — the paltry $1.5 million budget, the whirlwind one month summer shooting schedule — contributes to the raw, dizzying atmosphere of Thirteen, a dark and gritty take on the experience of being a teenage girl at a time when the only cinematic alternatives were Freaky Friday and The Lizzie McGuire Movie. Harmony Korine’s Kids — perhaps the closest example in terms of impact and subject matter — had come out nearly a decade before.

I vaguely remember the circumstances under which I saw Thirteen. It was likely a hot, humid early September day in Montreal — the kind that would make my best friend and I seek refuge in one of the city’s downtown movie theaters. I was 13; my best friend was days away from her own 13th birthday.

What I vividly recall are the feelings the film elicited. I remember being terrified, a fear I couldn’t exactly name, but which gnawed at my innards as I watched Tracy Freeland (Wood) morph from a prepubescent innocent into a sexualized harridan who hides her tongue and belly button piercings from her mother. Would I be like that? Should I be? I remember feeling seen, recognizing how intimate a relationship between two teenage girls can be. I remember squirming at the scenes showing interactions with boys, things I was starting to think about but couldn’t imagine myself actually going through. 

Of course, none of these anxieties were voiced as the lights came up, and my best friend and I wandered back out into the haze of the afternoon. But Thirteen had made its mark, as it has on countless women of my generation.

I wouldn’t learn until years later that the film was helmed by women. The script emerged out of a collaboration between Hardwicke and Reed, who had a personal connection: Hardwicke had been in a long-term relationship with Reed’s father and thought of her as a surrogate daughter. They kept in touch after the breakup, and Hardwicke started noticing that something wasn’t right with Reed. Much like Tracy, she was acting out, rising rapidly through the ranks of popularity at her West L.A. school. And then her friends got busted for selling crystal meth.

In her concern for Reed, Hardwicke invited the teen to her Venice Beach home. It was there that over a six-day period in January 2002, the pair wrote the script that would become Thirteen. In the aftermath, they made a pact: If Hardwicke could get the film into production, she would direct it, and Reed would star in it.

Still, the road ahead was rocky. An R-rated movie co-written by a teenager with female leads wasn’t exactly an easy sell. Securing funds wasn’t easy for Hardwicke, who was then working as a production designer in Hollywood, and had no prior directing experience; Reed, meanwhile, had never acted onscreen, and the screenplay was her first. It wasn’t until Holly Hunter, who would go on to be nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her role as Tracy’s mother, signed on that the project finally got off the ground. After an acclaimed premiere at Sundance, where Hardwicke won the top directing award, Fox Searchlight Pictures acquired the film for distribution. Thirteen was released in five U.S. theaters on August 20, 2003, and grossed $116,260 opening weekend. But the salacious subject matter resulted in word-of-mouth and heightened press coverage, especially for the teen leads. By its third week of release, Thirteen’s gross had increased by 622%, as did the film’s reach, as it went on to screen in 73 theaters, and then up to 243, for a total domestic gross of $4.6 million. 

But the value of seeing oneself represented on screen is something that’s harder to quantify.

“It takes women to tell female stories,” Reed says during the interview. This is something we’ve heard many times as Hollywood grapples with the way the industry historically treated women, as well as the systemic inequality that has resulted in a still-egregious gender gap.

Thirteen was an extreme portrayal of the alienation of an especially troubled teenage girl. But that hunger for an outlet for those complicated emotions is universal. “I had a need in me, like Tracy, to just explode,” Wood said. “And acting was something I did so that I could do that. I felt like I couldn't do it anywhere else.

”If it’s been a while, here’s a quick recap: Tracy Freeland (Wood) is a good girl. She gets straight As, loves golden retrievers, and wears her fair blonde hair in cute dual buns. But that doesn’t mean everything’s rosy. Her poetry is an intense, poignant exploration of early teenagehood. Her single mother Melanie is a recovering alcoholic who runs a beauty salon out of her kitchen, and though she’s an attentive parent, she’s overwhelmed. And Tracy’s father (D.W. Moffett), constantly behind on child support, is too focused on his new family and new job to care very much. Tracy copes by locking herself in the bathroom and resorting to self-harm, an act that was shocking to many at the time. But not to Wood.

“I hadn't really done drugs,” she said. “I was a lot of talk, sex-wise, but wasn't really doing much. But the emotions, and that feeling of frustration and being lost and angry, and the dynamics with the family and the cutting — those were things where I was like, ‘Oh. I know what this is. Like, I understand this really well.”

“That's one of the reasons why I wanted to do it too,” the actress, who recently testified before Congress about a sexual assault that led her self-harm and two suicide attempts, explained. “Because I was like, I didn't know cutting was a thing until I read the script. And that's when I was like, ‘Other people do this?’

”So, when classmate Evie Zamora (Nikki Reed) comes along with her jeweled cross necklace, long glossy hair, and jeans so low you can see her thong peeking out, Tracy is already primed for some acting out. It would be easy to paint what comes next as black and white — and in fact, many of the film’s critics did so at the time. Evie and Tracy strike up a friendship, which leads Tracy down a bleak path of drugs, questionably consensual sexual encounters, illicit piercings, and shoplifting. But the truth is more complicated. In her own way, Evie is as vulnerable as Tracy. She lives with a woman named Brooke, sometimes referred to as her guardian, other times her cousin, whose main occupation seems to be recovering from Botox injections and getting drunk. She doesn’t care what Evie does with her time, as long as no ones calls the cops. With Evie by her side, Tracy upgrades to It Girl status at school. But that comes at the expense of her grades, her relationship with her mother, and even her own mental health.

The acting is fantastic. Seasoned child actress Wood, who would be nominated for a Golden Globe and a Screen Actors Guild Award, handles Tracy’s descent into hell with fiery zeal, concealed under angelic looks. When, towards the end, she’s wandering Hollywood Boulevard in a crop top and smeared black lipstick, drunk, she looks like a nightmare version of herself, her inner turmoil having taken over. It’s a duality that would come into play later in her career, as Dolores, the mild host-turned-avenger on HBO’s Westworld. Reed exudes an uncomfortable degree of sexuality for such a young woman, but there’s also a sadness to her, a need to be loved. And as Melanie, a mother who loves her daughter fiercely, but is blind to the scope of what’s going on behind her closed bedroom door, Hunter quivers with anger, anxiety and concern.

Watching the film for the first time as an adult, I was amazed at how avant-garde it feels.

The central relationships aren’t romantic in nature. Instead, the film focuses on the dynamics between female friends and mothers and daughters. That fraught connection between Tracy and Melanie is one that we’re only just starting to see again, in films like Lady Bird, and, veering sharply into supernatural horror, Hereditary.

Evie and Tracy’s friendship is complex and intense, vacillating between almost sensual devotion and cruel rivalry, especially where Melanie’s affections are concerned. That need to be utterly consumed by one’s best friend while grappling with latent jealousy is so specific to young women of that age, and a dynamic that’s rarely portrayed, even today.

It’s so true to life that while filming, Wood and Reed developed a rapport that mirrored the one they were portraying on screen. “There were moments that I was completely in love with you,” Wood, who came out as bisexual in 2011, told Reed.“

We had this kind of innocence about our relationship that was so personal to us,” Reed responded. “It was ours, and it was so real [...] And then, because a lot of that was in the movie, when it became something that the press could talk about, suddenly it was like our actual relationship, in a sense, was put out there for people to talk about.”

As often happens in Hollywood, especially where young girls are concerned, the stars were held up for comparison by the press. Who was cooler? Who was hotter? Who would have the best career? Things actually got so acute that, like Tracy and Evie, the two drifted apart, not speaking again until nearly a decade later.

“We had to talk about it when we were 25,” Reed said. “I actually went to [Hardwicke’s] house, and I said, ‘You know, I haven't talked to Evan in so long, and I really miss her.’ You gave me her number, and I said, ‘Do you think she would even want me to call her?’ You were like, "Yeah. You guys are in such a similar space.’ We had both gotten married. I called [Wood], and it was so cool. [She was] like, ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’"

Still, Thirteen is best remembered for its shocking scenes — and there are many, including the opening shot, which shows Evie and Tracy sitting on a bed, huffing paint and punching each other in the face, laughing. A provocative confrontation later in the film shows Tracy bragging to her mother that's she's not wearing a bra or panties. 

In one memorable moment, Evie and Nikki seduce an older neighbor, played by then-27-year-old Kip Pardue, who reportedly wasn’t aware that the actresses were 14 until he showed up to shoot. “‘He was in shock,” Hardwicke said.” I was trying to talk him down off the ledge, ‘Look, we're going to be safe. I'm going to be there, the teacher's going to be there. It's all gonna be cool.’"

Ground rules were established: A studio teacher was present at all times, sitting behind the couch the three were kissing on. “Couldn't touch the nipples,” Wood recalled. “Couldn’t touch the top of Kip’s pants.”

All the same, the final film was extremely controversial, so much so that, Hardwicke said, juvenile court judges and directors of rehab centers, accompanied her at Q&As after early screenings so parents could voice their concerns.

“Three mothers stand up: ‘My daughter would never do that,’ she recalled. “And then the judge would say, ‘Excuse me, this movie is mild. Not one person got pregnant. No one got in a car crash, no one [died by] suicide. Nobody died. I see much more elevated cases in this every single day.’”

“I found myself in a weird position where I was being asked to be sort of the spokesperson for teen angst,” Reed said. (A clip from her 2003 appearance on Ellen shows her on the defensive, explaining that she’s a straight-A student: “I just got my report card.)

Both Reed and Wood are parents themselves now. Reed and husband Ian Somerhalder have a one-year-old daughter, Bodhi Soleil. Wood’s son Jack, from her previous marriage to actor Jamie Bell, is five. “I'd show it to my son,” she said of Thirteen. “ I think boys need to be watching more female-centric films anyways, so they have a better understanding about women, and opposite sex.”

Still, they now feel they have a deeper understanding of the visceral reaction adults, particularly parents, had to the film at the time. “I see it all differently,” Reed said. “I’m totally terrified, and I’m also really grateful for it. I feel like I have a really good understanding of some of the things that are going on.“

The movie helped open the door for Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why, which graphically depicts scenes of sexual assault, self-harm, and suicide, and even to a certain extent Eighth Grade, Bo Burnham’s film about the inner life of a 14-year-old girl who turns to the internet to compensate for the feelings of inadequacy she’s facing in the real world.

The lack of social media does date the film, as does its inability to really grapple with race and privilege. As a white middle-class young woman, Tracy is afforded the benefit of the doubt, not to mention a second chance. If she’d been a woman of color, she might never have recovered from her year-long bender. In fact, the only people of color in the film are the guys that Tracy and Evie alternately hook up with, and buy drugs from, a setup that is particularly iffy in hindsight.

Overall, however, Thirteen holds up in a way that never would have seemed possible to Hardwicke or Reed at the time they wrote the script. The impact it has had over the last 15 years far exceeds its original reach. Hardwicke’s $3 payday went a long, long way.

“Literally the other day, a woman came up to me, she's like 28 or 30, working at a cool company, Hardwicke recalled. “She goes: ‘You know what, I saw Thirteen,’ and it scared her straight. She never drank or smoked in her life, or did any drugs.”

“I don’t know if there will ever be anything quite like it,” Reed said. “It was kind of just magic.”

If you or someone you know is considering self-harm, please get help. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

[atlaese]

Yes to all you said about her mom, her acting was amazing ngl, that she was being captive, so dark, so many dark themes, her whole storyline could have been so much better, my heart did break for her but it was an overkill. I like Trish, she's really central in season 3, I don't know how much you've watched but Trish and has her ex miliray boyfriend showed up yet? Will? He is going to be on Echo or Hawkeye, I can't remeber exactly now. Also the song???? So funny! Tell me about Malcolm! Isn;t he the cutest? I want him as my friend too.

It has two seasons and it's short and funny, really good, of course it got cancelled but it traslates that girls in their twenties living life really well. One of my fave ever. Matt we shall see, reports said that he would show up as well on Echo (she will appear in hawkeye which should be out in november and she's deaf also and native american and Matt was her mentor and in the comics they were a tight group, Matt Clint Kate soooo and she-hulk of course) Echo is shaping up to be a good one! Can't wait, I think they havent's started filming, righr now reshoots for hawkeye are in place.

Foggy likes blonde women, is funny! He shows up in iron fist as well and the Carrie Ann Moss of course, what a boss what a woman! And his glow up from one seaon to the next? :)

And Matt should be your favourite superhero, noone does it like him! He has a brain! Rarity in the superheroes lives. And yes Matt and Elektra are a perfect couple, boucning off each other and completeing one another. Her storyline in defenders was so sad I was hoping by the end they would ressurect but alas. Still you never know, she could come back at some capacity.

Hmm, the movie. It's a hollywood popcorn movie. It's fun and not very remarbable. So I don't know what to tell you honestly, you are not going to learn anything new, mostly about bullseye, matt's greateast villian that we never got to see on the show? The most difference, It's alright just... not good. And unfortunately I grew up in love with Ben Affleck, I blame the 90s and my mom so the movie does hold a special place in my heart. If you have a free afternoon and you wanna have fun, is not boring, not long just not... what you want to see for Matt.

i love jessica. i also love jessica and matt together (platonically!!) ooh i like trish too! i just watched the second episode of s3, so i haven't seen the ex yet, although i did like that guy, he seemed genuine and very good for her (all these set ups oh my god!!!!! marvel really is holding us by the throat and just spoon feeding content at this point!! i dont know where to look first!)

omg i L O V E malcolm!!! at first i was very unsure of why his character was in the series, but i love him as jessica's pa. but i also love that now he's making a name for his own and i'm proud he's growing into this businessman type person (all these suits, they all look great on him!!)

ah another day, another cancellation, what's new these days... but from the synopsis it looks great, i'll try to watch it!

WHATS. UP WITH ALL THESE STAR STUDDED SHOWS. i cant keep up. i cant. anyway, now i am exited for echo too and she-hulk and other marvel stuff. matt.. a mentor?? oh my god i bet that's such a fun dynamic!!! aaah.

another foggy cameo?? we're being spoiled ladies and gents. damn, i gotta watch iron. fist too then (just for foggy ofcourse <33). oh my god foggy had such a glow up!!! him in his fancy suit YES. YES. YES. couldn't have asked for anything better :').

smart superheroes who think (most of the time - matt sometimes turns off his brain lmao) are so cool. just shows that they're more than heroes and that their personality has more aspects than just the 'oh i am strong i can save people' thing most of them get. yes, i was very sad to see her ending in defenders, although we didn't really get full closure, so we'll never know if she's still alive or not. (i'm still confused as to how matt is alive lmao, i think i missed a part somewhere).

ben affleck really is a great man (i loved him in gone girl) so no hard feelings towards him! the 90's produced some great content though, i can't blame that, haha :). the trailer was just so corny and so early 2000's lmao. i loved the classical superhero feel it had though. i might watch it, but charlie will always be the™ matt for me. i cant help it!

[anonplusultra-blog]

FAUX LIAISON

I checked the time on my phone, it was still tuesday, and it was still september but, it was past eight. Yet again I've lost control over my body and had no recollection of it. What did Mirror Anna did while I… was away?

And this new app, I had to check what it does, but not right now. Right now, is that time when I pretend to be a normal girl and pretend I'm not the weirdo I know I am. "Did Anna said anything, did she sounded angry or upset?"

The younger one took a deep breath before responding "She sounded worried, and, I think she cried before calling, she was sniffling a bit." Her face lost a bit of color. "Are you, uh, did you had a fight? I noticed you and Anna have been sharing some sort of 'twin secret eye code'." So she saw that, are we sharing a secret, Anna and, well, mirror Anna?

"I skipped our lunch date and..." And, then what happened? Why can't I remember? We are the same person I should know!

"Oh, that explains why you were so eager to help me buy tonight's outfit." Was I? But, why the inadequate black mini dress then?, I wouldn't recommend it to such a young girl.

"He, so you are the one I have to thank for this delightful view." Does she always talk that way, the way she delivers every statement is filled with something almost macabre. "This one over here is a beauty, but, she is so shy. A shame really, she is either wearing those librarian outfits or au naturel." Oh dear, you were right about them Elsa, they are like us. The blonde blushes and hides away her shame locking eyes to the floor. "No, no. Chin up, be proud of us, and more importantly of yourself." She gently guides her face to her eye level… and slowly advances, kissing her. Their lips dancing to a silent rhythm, following no rules. See blondie, never doubt your instinct. Rory's eyes opened up, she looks worried, she looks at me in a plea, and holds the older woman's hand.

Malena looks at me, her gaze shows her disappointment. "You didn't told her about us. We have discussed this before, Rory, I was married to your father, it might not be normal, but our love is not stranger than anyone else is."

Rory gets close to Malena, she whispers something in the older woman's ear. The brunette pulls a fifty dollars bill and calls the bartender. She signals us to follow her. We went upstairs, she turned on the lights and asked us to turn them off when we were done 'discussing'. The second floor was filled with big round tables covered with chairs. I imagine they rent this place for events, probably weddings or private parties. We walked in far enough to find what a guess should be the dance floor. We grabbed each a chair from a different table and made a triangle in the center of the room. Once sitting, Rory closed her eyes taking a deep breath, preparing to talk, trying to beat her nerves.

"Remember the story I told you about my suicide attempt…?" Oh, yeah she did told me that story on monday, Elsa. I could somehow remember fragments of a conversation with Rory, it was about something sad, but I could not remember any details. 

"Well, I might have omitted some parts to that story. You see my father was very strict, he had a lot of rules, he was overprotecting of me ever since my mother died. I didn't have friends and was not allowed to go out alone, but then Malena came into our lives. She took me to malls, movie theaters, water parks. At first I was anxious, I was not accustomed to the crowds, but, Malena kept me moving forward. And we fell in love. For a brief moment I was happy..." Rory could no longer fight the tears that were creeping in her eyes for a couple minutes and stopped talking.

Malena got up and got closer to the blonde, made her stand up and holds her in a tight embrace, the height difference now more visible. "Rory had always fought with the concept of not owning her own life and decisions, and when the divorce was imminent… and we would be apart, that triggered a chain of terrible and rotten thoughts in her brain. She felt hopeless, abandoned, betrayed..." Tears flow from both women as the older one takes a pause. "I remember running upstairs, and finding her on the floor of the main bedroom's bathroom, I can't describe how terrible it felt, how afraid and powerless I felt. But I had to save her, I needed her to survive, and she needed me. And now we are here, together..."

Aw, do you see that Elsa? Even in the darkest of times, nothing can defeat love. Nothing can defeat love, when love is the only bound, but, Anna is not my step twin sister. No one in this world would ever say 'oh don't worry is not incest, they are step sisters'. We would be marked as pariahs no matter where we hide… and that if we were ever together.

Malena kisses Rory in the forehead, tenderly, like a prayer. "It's time to take you two home, it's getting late and you have classes tomorrow." She then looked at me with those specter pale green eyes, "I hope you can understand… us." She was so vulnerable, she looked so different than the woman I met at the bar an hour ago.

"I'm..." Wait Elsa, what are you? "… I'm in love with..." Stop it, you barely know them, you are gonna ruin our plans! "...with Anna."

The older woman remained silent, but the younger one… "Ha! I knew it! These couple of days this idea kept popping in my mind, every time you kissed or hold hands interlacing your fingers, and the way you look at each other, as if trying to devour each other". She seemed rather accomplished and excited about the news, as if she actually had discovered the culprit of a mysterious noir novel.

"Oh, this is juicy. Anna as in your twin sister, that Anna." She was enjoying this too much, in a weird way, but again she always come off as lascivious even in her most 'innocent' wordings. She tapped on her lower lip with her index finger a few times, she was definitely enjoying this. "Oh, don't worry about us, you can trust your secret upon us, we are certainly not to judge anyone's love. And we certainly know how difficult it is to own with pride a relationship that the world might not understand."

espite what that other voice kept yelling on the back of my head, I told them the absolute truth. I told them about my teenage years of painful denial and resentment towards Anna's conquests. How I had a collection of cute, smiling, nude, and perhaps the most important feature, red haired women, on films and pictures in a password protected folder on my laptop ever since I was fifteen. Back then I could only deny it, pretend that I really was aroused only by their nudity and coppery mane. And finally about how I was planning on seduce her during the days, weeks, months and years waiting for her to one day…

"Ha, and you dare call Anna the 'sporty' one." Again that excitement and pride as she was about to solve a riddle it seems. "Elsa, I have lived with you two for less than a week and I have seen how you impact Anna's happiness. Your sister used to like me, as in like like me, but she never tried anything to be more than a friend to me. Trust me, I know how it looks like when a person has someone else on her heart." She holds the elder's hand and share a loving gaze, as if a full conversation between them. And Malena did not look bitter at all by the blonde's word about my sister. "You don't need to seduce your sister, nor force her to be in love with you Elsa, all you need is an act of true love, one that she could not simply overlook as fraternal, and act of love so pure not even you could deny no more".

I was already on the edge of tears when I confessed, and Rory's speech just stripped me from what was left of the strength I was holding myself back with. I was crying and wimping, I lost balance, but, I did not fall, the arms of those two women saved me, caring and understanding, as if we were more than newly acquired acquaintances… as family would. Their embrace was warm, tender, and somehow nostalgic.

Once I recovered, and gave my new confidants the thanks they deserved, we went outside. The air was rather wet and wind from the north tickle on my nose, I have always loved the cold weather to be honest. Rory and I awaited in front of the club while Malena went to the parking lot to get her car. I have this idea still on my head, might as well now that we are friends "Um, so Anna was into you? Will you have date her?"

"I mean, yeah, she is gorgeous and very sweet and kind. But you know that." Wait, but what about Malena, is she okay with something like… "Oh, you meant if I would have cheated on my… on Malena. Well, we are very confident in the strength of our love, and I think it comes from the time when we started being more than..." She looked around us and realized there were a few girls close enough to hear our private conversation. "...You know, before the divorce, we were already us. I don't care if I have to share her, because we are together, and she feels the same."

She told me about the agreement her step mother and she had made. Malena apparently was very clinical when it came to the relation between love and sex, meaning she did not saw any connection. Love was a complicated set of rules and commitments, an invention of humanity to ascend as species, sex in the other hand was a need of the flesh no different than thirst or an itch, nothing really special, unless those involved tried to make it that way. I wish I was like them, maybe that way I would have been happier when Anna was dating.

A black sedan stopped in front of us, Rory sat on the front to be next to the brunette and I was obviously relegated to the back seat. It was still about nine, not terribly late, but I was concerned, what was I supposed to tell Anna? 'Sorry sis, I thought I had gone insane, had to walk it off, but now I'm sane and ready to make you mine, and only mine...' Heat traversed thru my chest and crawled in to my crotch as my confession triggered that beast that lies dormant under every girls' skin.

The street lights relaxed me as we made our way back to the college, something in their repetitive nature soothes me down. We should be at the dorms already but Malena seems to have taken a detour. I look away from the night sky and those lich green eyes are looking at me thru the rear view mirror. "You girls like chinese food? You and Anna?" I nodded, just barely. I guess that is why we took a detour, I am hungry, and Anna probably is too. Now that I think about it, the last meal I have memory of is that plain high fiber cereal and milk, that was saturday morning.

For a few minutes it was only the blond and I in the car, I had so many questions to ask her, just polluting my brain. How did they first realized they were in love? Who else knew about it? "Are you happy?" My voice monotone and cold for some reason.

"Yes, we are very happy." No hesitation, no stuttering, no shame, her girlfriend would be proud of that. I smiled at her thru the reflection on the rear view mirror. "When she looks at me, I can still feel the same static fuzz going under my skin, like a cold breeze. If I call her on the phone she always makes me feel like she has time for me, even when she actually is on a tight schedule. She loves me free, she loves me tender, she loves me not for taboo, but, for who I am. She loves me like a woman".

"That's so fucking cute!" Anna, stop talking thru my lips. But yeah, I have never seen a couple like them. "Sorry, I got carried away."

"Don't be, I also feel like that sometimes. We are lucky. Just like you and Anna, not many have the luck of coming together into this world with their other half."

I had never thought about it like that, not while my head was clear. It was almost always driven by lustful thoughts, but usually only focusing on the wrong of the situation, as if it was a curse. Maybe we are lucky after all.

Rory's girlfriend came back shortly after, holding a green see thru plastic bag with two rectangular boxes inside, I had never seen that kind of boxes but in movies and television. They even had some cliche red dragon design on them. I went back to the street luminaries as we head back to the dorms. Will it work for us? It is still very different to have a not so usual relationship with your father's ex wife, but, a legal bind is not a real one, for us it will be so much harder. But what if how it is supposed to be for us to be… happy.

Once there, we got off the car and Malena handed me one of the take out boxes, I hold it confused. "Here, you go with your sister, you two will need some space to talk. And about your proposal in the car, yes, we will gladly use you old dorm room. Key please." Her palm facing the sky, requesting the key. What proposal? 

I made a deal with her in the car while you were looking at the pretty street lights. Now give her your key, is in your jeans' back pocket. Just do it blondie!

I hate losing control over my own body, but some time alone just the two of us, take out dinner (the free kind none the less). A date. Mirror Anna you evil genius.

I opened the door, Anna was sitting on our bed, she looked distressed. "What do I have to do Elsa?" She was barely holding back tears. "Just tell me, I will do anything, just stop running away from me. Please let me into your heart and let me help you."

"You don't have to do anything Anna, just be here for me, I will not run anymore. I will tell you everything-"

"What is the wig for…?"

Author's Note:  Hellô. About the music how about Love ridden by the artist mentioned in the last chapter.

[musicprompts]

Sleeping Monsters - Valentine’s Day

—-So this is a bit late, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by. This is basically some ideas and stables about the group and their reaction to Valentine’s Day.

Enjoy :)

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Bucky absolutely loves Valentine’s Day- it’s one of those few days in the year where he and the Grimm are happy to be around people because for some reason, Death likes to let them have a bit of fun. Besides that, the smell of chocolate is fucking fantastic, and he never passes up the chance to watch Steve make some home made chocolate in the kitchen. Though he doesn’t like the overwhelming smell of flowers because then he whines about not being able to smell the chocolate and candy.

Natasha... she has mixed feelings about the holiday. She doesn’t like celebrating it because of personal reasons but does realize that the holiday is important to her clan and so allows them to gift her chocolates and weird little gifts they find in the store. Clint had even given her a Valentine’s Day themed spider plush because he thought it was hilarious.

Nobody knows that it’s one of her favorite gifts and is squirreled away along with some handwritten notes from the twins and memorabilia that she has collected over the years.

Clint both loves and hates the holiday. He used to hate the holiday because the circus didn’t really allow time to celebrate it and then there was the thing with his brother... and yeah, not good memories all around. He likes to brood for a couple of hours every year, the memories consuming him and threatening to drag him down into a deep dark hole...

Wanda usually helps him out, missing her father figure on this day. She tells funny stories that usually ends in pietro’s embarrassment, making Clint laugh and everything seem okay. He celebrates it now for the twins and for the new family he was folded into thanks to the ever exuberant Tony Stark. He’s still thankful for that.

Bruce usually hides around this day, reminiscing about the days when he and the Hulk weren’t one entity, when he was just Dr Bruce Banner with a penchant with the ladies. Tony also usually drags him out by dinner time, both of them laughing about Tony’s past failures with ladies and men before they join everybody else in a heart themed dinner because Tony loves to go all out despite Pepper’s exasperation with it all.

Wanda and Pietro didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day for several years, the grief and anger over their parents barring them from the simple enjoyment. They used to sit together in some quiet corner and talk about the happiest memories they could think of, keeping their parents alive in some way in their hearts.

That was, of course, before Natasha decided on a whim that these two sad sops were now her children and part of her clan, with Clint making them happier and more determined to stay alive the next day, to make sure that their parents hadn’t died in vain. They had forgiven Tony long before they met him thanks to these two.

To show their gratitude, the twins love to shower Clint and Natasha in chocolates and flowers. Pietro gives the two silly gifts he finds in second hand shops and flea markets, because he believed that something a little more lasting than food or wilting flowers was needed to show his love to his new parental figures. Wanda likes to make little flower arrangements. She knows they won’t last long (most things never did nowadays) but she worked hard on those arrangements and dammit that’s what she could do for Natasha and Clint.

They still go to a darkened corner, but they don’t stay there all day and they no longer have to hide the smell of salty tears because now they have less painful memories to fill their hearts.

Steve is an absolute nut the entire week that Valentine’s falls on. He goes to great things to make handmade chocolates for each and every one of the group he has come to call family. The dullahan kicks everybody out of the kitchen to make said chocolates and absolutely won’t let anyone see what he’s making until he’s given it to them. Somehow, Tony manages to kick him out of the kitchen Valentine’s day to make the special dinner he insists is absolutely necessary.

Steve takes this time to take two very special chocolates he’s made to a willow tree that’s in the nearby graveyard. He would set them both down, one labeled “Mom” and the other labeled “Peggy”, and then send a prayer for both of these wonderful women because he loves and misses them so much. Bucky always follows him to make sure he’s safe. Neither of them mention that sometimes Steve cries standing next to that tree, and Bucky never mentions that there is always a tall dark shadow that smelled a bit like Steve staring from a distance. Still, Steve celebrates the holiday with a smile because lingering in the past only ever hinders him and he can’t do that now.

Sam is a bit weird with the holiday. At least weird to everyone else. He goes out and flirts with every single woman he comes across (some of them not so single when their significan other comes around the corner to see him flirting - those encounters usually don’t end well), buys chocolate for everyone and then shares stories of his past VDay exploits because it’s funny. He always makes sure to call his mom back home because otherwise she would find him in the city and beat him in public for forgetting about his wonderful mother on this glorious day. He believes her when she threatens it every year. Tony kind of finds it funny.

Pepper has to field calls and gifts for Tony on this day. The amount of chocolate and flowers and cards the dreamweaver receives is ridiculous and spends most of her day either giving away the chocolates or burning the cards. Tony gives her a special flower arrangement and some rare gem for her efforts (he honestly keeps surprising her - she thinks he’ll run out of weird rocks to give her eventually) and allows her to pester him however she likes in the next couple of meetings. Jarvis never interferes with this arrangement as it works well for the both of them. Pepper does enjoy the special chocolates she receives from the group though and cherishes them for as long as possible.

Rhodes is usually too busy with military stuff but he always gets a weird song card from Tony every year. The cards range from some weird chicken song to sappy love songs that make Rhodey groan in exasperation. He has a case full of the damn things and nobody in his squad says a word about because he was their leader, their confidant, and damn scary when he needed to be.

Thor enjoys the holiday and likes to spoil his brother with the weirdest things he could find (“Brother look!!! This book talks about Norse love!!” Loki usually would look at him in horror, remembering some of those stories because they happened to him, as Thor laughs because he loves to jest with Loki every year. Loki usually retaliated by hiding his chocolate in weird ass places for Thor to find. It’s become something of a game between the two). Thor also likes to take Jane out to Asgard, show her all the wonders of his home. He enjoys seeing her smile and laughter most because she was his star. (Loki was proud to see his brother grow from the arrogant blonde he used to be - he approves of Jane because she softened Thor and made him better.) Loki doesn’t usually celebrate the holiday, but he loves the chocolate, so sticks around for that. He also enjoys the antics of the group, but doesn’t really tell anybody about that.

Tony.... well, Tony doesn’t really like the holiday. Absolutely hates it sometimes. He stays in the tower because being around too many people on a holiday makes his head hurt and powers react weirdly, but he also kind of mourns this day as well. He remembers his mother, when she was able to be fully coherent, treating him to ice cream when he was younger and his father absolutely spoiling the both of them to show his love to his wife and son. He remembers also getting a special toy from Jarvis, most of them now hidden in the depths of his closet whenever he was feeling especially nostalgic.

Used to it was only Bruce and Pepper he was able to stand on VDay because he had been around them for years. When the holiday comes around he is startled to realize that his powers don’t react to anyone else in the upper tower and the two gods that like to take residence occasionally. Tony doesn’t know how to react to that, so he usually takes over the kitchen (“Alright Steve my turn. Out” “What but-“ “Get!!” There’s usually laughter as some food is thrown in jest. Clint squaks at this because sometimes he’s the one the food usually lands on for some reason.) and makes a huge dinner with beautiful arrangements and the sappiest love songs he could find to play over the speakers.

Tony always takes the time to take a bouquet of flowers, usually sunflowers and roses, to his parents graves because they deserved something nice too, no matter what.

So Tony doesn’t love the holiday, but he now looks forward to more years with his new group. It gives him some kind of hope.

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—-so what did you guys think? I know a bit of it is sad, but I think it gives some insight to the group and their dynamics with each other and the world. Also, surprise? There’s a couple things in here that tell of a few events that happen later in the fic itself ;) tell me what you think!!!

Tagging: @reioka @thunder-the-wolf @harbingerofplagues @icanconfirmihavenosoul @mythlover @emolordisme @illpepper @alittlebitproblematic

If you wish to be tagged, please tell me!! I’ll be more than happy to add you to the list :) And happy valentine’s day to all of you, even if it is a bit late xD

[the-revisionist]

the tristan chord: chapter 18

xviii. long day’s journey into freak-out

one sunday morning

It is not daylight that awakens Gillian but awareness of time pressing in on her—a merciless internal alarm clock suffering a severe malfunction today because under normal circumstances she’d be on her feet for hours by now. The last step in surrendering to the conscious world is the most painful one: she opens her eyes to a blindingly bright bedroom. After so many days of pissing, sodding rain Mother Nature got cheeky and lo, here’s a sunny warm day worthy of a tropical beach confirmed with a blue-sky striptease courtesy of the fluttering curtain. 

Flat on her back, she squints at the ceiling’s white glare, wriggles a bit, and there it is: the delicious awareness of Caroline pressed against her. The day expands exponentially. She raises her head for confirmation and sees blonde hair and a lightly freckled arm draped over her waist, feels heavy hot breathing—miraculously, not snoring—against her upper arm. 

Everything would be perfect save for the mobile on the nightstand that starts ringing. While she patiently waits for it to go to voice mail, the reaction from Caroline is akin to poking a hibernating bear: She rumbles loudly and lunges wildly over Gillian—who, as a result, gets unceremoniously smacked in the face with a tit—seizes the offending phone, squints at it, stabs a button, and attempts plastering it onto Gillian’s face. As the phone slides off her cheek Gillian hears a tinny male voice chattering away who is, in all likelihood, Raff, while Caroline rolls away from her and with a lovely snorty growl falls back asleep. 

So much for the afterglow. Gillian bobbles the phone. Even with it closer to her ear she can’t hear Raff very well, and wonders if the old mobile is finally dying on her. The mere thought of its demise is actually quite liberating. Maybe she’ll decide not to get a new one. Maybe she will become the only farmer in Yorkshire not to own a mobile. Even Pete, who owns the farm closest to her and is so old that he calls Alan “lad,” has one. Then she realizes she’s holding the phone the wrong way around, with the hearing bit pointed past her chin.

Righting the phone, she plops right into a ranting, raving run-on sentence: “—and I’ve called Nev already and of course since it’s Sunday no one’s working but him and he can’t get out right away and on top o’ that everybody’s stuck in mud or broken down somewhere and I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do, so go on, have your bloody fit already, it’s all over but the shouting as they say, go on, go on.”

“What?” Gillian is still in blink-at-the-ceiling-oh-God-that-was-wonderful-last-night mode.

“Did you not hear what I just said? I drove the Land Rover into a ditch.”  

She winces. Such furious enunciation, such painful shouting. She continues blinking at the ceiling. Several long seconds disperse into the summer air as she tries to muster the appropriate amount of outrage but at the moment all she can think is, how did she make me come three times in a row?

“Oh,” she finally says.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk?”

This time she manages to keep a grip on the mobile while yanking it away from her ear to avoid the worst of the shouting, although she does catch the bit about being drunk. “Knackered, is all,” she says. In a futile effort at waking up, she vigorously rubs her face. “You all right?”

The unexpected maternal concern waylays Raff’s fit. “I—yeah, I’m fine. And the Landy’s all right, really, not wrecked, just stuck in mud.”

“What happened?”

“Oh.” Raff drags the syllable through an elongated groan of frustration.

Gillian knows the sound well—this sad abbreviation of oh, I’ve done something stupid—it’s a family speciality, both the sound and the stupidity. Now she knows exactly what happened and sighs. “Took the shortcut to Harry’s, didn’t you?”

More shouting on his part, more wincing on hers: “Yes, I took the bloody short cut!”

Even in the best of weather, this infamous short cut to Harry’s house is a trial: a narrow, winding dirt road lined on one side with a fence older than Methuselah and on the other side with a wicked slope to a bog of indeterminate depth. Why no one thought to erect fencing on the bog side of the road is anyone’s guess and Gillian knows better than to put such a simple question begging logic to any denizens of the dale because she’d probably get in return some epic horseshit tale involving nubile shepherdesses, infidelity, murder, ghosts, curses, and whiskey.

“That bog is all mud now, and I couldn’t get her out. Needs towing, like I said.” Raff groans. “And don’t say I told you so, I know you did. Happy now?”

She turns toward Caroline, whose back rises and falls in slow, sleeping rhythm, and rediscovers the freckled map of the stars that she saw only in her mind’s eye the night before. The vault of heaven has cracked open and spilled these burnished stars along Caroline’s skin and her hands and mouth are desperate to navigate once more by these beloved stars. Her fingers hover just above skin, swooning over the coordinates of Cassiopeia again and again, the repetitive motion as necessary as a heartbeat.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling because no one can see. “I am happy.”

“Now you’re taking the piss,” Raff says angrily.  

“I’m not, honest.”

“Seriously, I feel shitty about it, I don’t need you messing me about on top of everything—”

“Raff. Hey.”

He groans again.

“It’s all right. Okay?”

This time a sigh.

“It’ll get sorted. So you called Nev?” Nevin was the knobhead who ran the nearest garage. He was also the first idiot Gillian slept with after Eddie died, begetting a long line of abysmal, regrettable sexual partners. He has since lost hair and gained a beer belly, so now she conveniently forgets whatever she saw in him other than desperate affirmation that she was still reasonably desirable to anyone. 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Then just sit tight till you hear from him. Don’t call him again, you start nagging him he’ll never show up.  Call me once he’s got it out. Okay?”

“Yeah, all right.” He sighs again. “I am really sorry.”

“Shit happens.” Another stellar moment of maternal comfort, Gillian thinks.

As if commenting on this universal truth, Caroline unleashes a completely unexpected and utterly savage peal of snoring.

“Sink clogged again?” Raff asks.

No, I’m in bed with my stepsister and we’ve spent the better part of last night shagging each other’s brains out. “Um, yeah. Just a bit. So I should—”

“Right. I’ll let you go.”

“Yeah. Oh, one more thing—”

“What?”

“Once it all sinks in I will probably string you up by the bollocks.”

“Aw, bless.” He chuckles sardonically. “Now there’s the mother I know and love.”

She rings off, tosses the phone in the general direction of the nightstand, and misses. It clatters to the floor. Caroline’s head lifts off the pillow as she mutters “Jesus” in a voice whiskey-sweet with sleep. In response Gillian places her lips against Cassiopeia and the sky shifts under her mouth, the stars dust her tongue. Caroline pushes against her and grabs her arm, pulling it across her waist as if it were a safety belt. As she clears her throat, her chest rumbles and Gillian tastes the raw vibrato of the body at work, a guttural song for an audience of one.

“Everything all right?” Caroline manages to ask. Her cheek, partially obscured with hair, is mottled pink and cream from sleep in Gillian’s rough, cheap bedsheets and she is still here, she has spent the night in this unholy bed in this cursed bedroom and this alone is so utterly unbelievable to Gillian that she is perched on the edge between great happiness and great ruin and it is no wonder that for want of anything she does not want to get up ever.

She kisses Caroline’s flushed cheek and sets out on a tour of the constellations along the shoulder and arm; the Big Dipper and Orion come easily to mind, touch, and tongue but as for others, well, she cannot recall them and so maps new constellations. My name on your skin and no one else will know, not even you.

“Perfect,” she says, over and over as she marks every kiss and freckle, an incantation that leads them both back to sleep.

An hour later she wakes up alone, the room brighter and warmer and the disorientation she feels suggests that last night and earlier this morning was some sort of prolonged, feverish erotic dream. But no—she sits up and sees a pile of Caroline’s clothes on the chair in the corner. She assumes that Caroline is in the shower, but does not hear the water pipes or any other sound of activity from the bathroom. Naturally this leads to a rather paramount concern: There is, potentially, a naked woman roaming her farm. Perhaps the ever-rational, science-loving headmistress has finally lost her mind. No one’s ever gone barmy from having sex with me before, Gillian thinks, but there’s a first time for everything.

Common sense prevails: Or maybe, just maybe, she’s put the kettle on. While naked. Which could be dangerous. Thinking that she may need to supervise this activity, Gillian gets up, throws on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. She looks out the window—sunny and breezy with a chance of naked women in the forecast—and gnaws her lip while staring at a barnyard booby-trapped with sticky mud and dank puddles that cannot dry fast enough. What has happened here is new but not new, and she has no idea what to do or what to say. Well, she knows what not to do: Don’t say I love you, don’t pledge eternal fidelity or devotion because you know she won’t believe it because you’re just bloody old slapper anyway.

In her head Gillian’s more censorious lectures of self-recrimination and restraint are usually cast in her father’s voice so it’s slightly disturbing, to say the least, to sort-of hear him going on about how best to conduct a half-assed lesbian affair with her stepsister—half-assed because Caroline already has a girlfriend and she’s not sure how to handle that. Hell, Caroline doesn’t seem to know how to handle that. Maybe she needs to call what’s-her-face from Hebden Bridge to help her sort through this lesbian horseshit. There’s got to be a Dyke Handbook. There’s got to be a morning after. She rubs her brow. No, no thinking of melodramatic shit 1970s songs right now.

By this time she’s biting her fingernails again and automatically berates herself for it; this time the voice in her head sounds like Robbie, because her nail-biting was one of his pet peeves. As was her drinking, her cooking, the way she dressed—come to think of it, her very existence was his pet peeve.

This time, when she condemns herself for the hundredth time for marrying a man she did not love, it is in her own voice.

Then the creak of the bedroom door and Caroline is there—in a dressing gown nicked from the bathroom and holding a plate of fluffy golden scrambled eggs. Gillian wonders if she is dead. Or dreaming. The dressing gown is a tartan plaid of green and blue that Gillian had initially bought as a birthday gift for her father a few years ago until a series of ill-advised laundering attempts on his part shrank it; in her more paranoid moments she thinks he did this on purpose because maybe he didn’t like it but at any rate, this resulted in Gillian taking default possession of the gown. Even in its shrunken state it is still big on her, but she likes that. She likes it even more so on Caroline—it fits her well and reveals a pleasing bit of calf.

This unbelievable image of domesticity breathes life into a story she has told herself many times late at night when she was too tired to go on and too drunk to care: We live together. Our children are always underfoot. We work too much. When it gets hard we can barely manage to be civil. But at night you are home and tired and after dinner you pour yourself a glass of wine, you push back my hair and lay your hand on the back of my neck like you do and that means everything is all right. We’ll sit around and watch telly and you’ll bitch about your day and on Sunday mornings we’ll make love because Sunday is sacred and quiet and it feels like the end of the world and we can take our time, and I’ll fall asleep after and you’ll let me sleep in while you get up and make me coffee.

Then Caroline says, “It’s weird.”

The storybook closes and Gillian resists the urge to gnaw her fingernails again as she goes into a tailspin: Of course it’s weird, it shouldn’t have happened, you have someone new, someone better, you could not possibly feel anything real for me despite all your fine words and big ideas last night. She attempts leaning against the windowsill with the casual, worldly confidence befitting a woman of her age and experience but instead gets momentarily entangled with the curtain. “W-what’s weird?” she mutters, while furiously batting away the curtain.

“You’d think by now I’d know how you like your eggs,” Caroline says. “We’ve known each other long enough—well.” She shrugs apologetically, half-heartedly raises the plate. “Anyway, thought you might be hungry—”

“Oh,” Gillian says.

United in postcoital awkwardness, they stare at the plate.

Then Gillian grins stupidly and hugs herself, as if Caroline is offering her an engagement ring or an epic love poem she wrote with the blood of angels on the smoothest of antique vellum or, best yet, a purebred ewe. And it’s not as if Caroline hasn’t fed her God knows how many times before, but these incremental kindnesses fray the edges of so many incontrovertible memories that she can imagine an eventual softening, a dissolution of the rough fabric binding her to the past and blinding her to possibility.

Caroline, however, interprets the smile as commentary upon a dish that does not live up to her Le Cordon Bleu standards. “It’s not my best effort—” she says apologetically.

“No, no—I didn’t mean—thanks. It looks grand and I am hungry, really hungry. Thank you.” Gillian seizes the plate.

She is about to spear a yellow cloud of egg with a fork when Caroline asks, “So for the record, how do you like your eggs?”

In response it seems quite natural, more than natural, to reel Caroline closer by pulling at the knotted belt of the dressing gown so that she is close enough for blonde hair to brush Gillian’s cheek and that it is absolutely impossible not to kiss her. Repeatedly. “I like them scrambled,” she says between kisses. “Served to me in my bedroom.” One more. “By a beautiful, snotty bitch.”

“Well.” Caroline’s hands skim her hips and find anchor in the waistband of the pajamas, and she presses her face into Gillian’s neck. “Got it right on the first try, then.” There’s no response to this because no mere moan or gasp can completely convey the sweet shivery pleasure of a neck well nuzzled. “I made coffee,” Caroline murmurs in her ear. “Forgot you had the Chemex that Gary got you.”

“Y-you actually used that thing?”

“Yeah. Gave it a thorough washing first—it smelled suspiciously of Jagermeister.” She gives Gillian a wry look and a kiss on the cheek before darting out of the room.

Still convinced that a dream or an altered state of consciousness or being is responsible for all this, Gillian stands alone in the bedroom, blinking slowly. Then she shrugs and decides to just go with it, to enjoy both the food and this quasi-honeymoon bit of bliss for as long as it will play out. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she digs into the eggs—which are real and, of course, so perfect in taste and appearance that Gordon Ramsey would weep with joy. But when Caroline returns with only two mugs of coffee and no more food, she panics that she has made some sort of romantic faux pas: “Oh, shit.” She raises the plate. “We supposed to be sharing this?”

“Nope. All for you.”

“Did you eat anything?”

“Toast.”

“Toast?” Gillian scoffs.

“Yeah, I—oh, do you want toast?”

“No. God’s sake, sit down. Feel ridiculous, having you wait on me hand and foot in my own home.”

“Don’t be silly,” Caroline says. She settles in beside Gillian, reclining against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankle, and drinks her coffee. Strong sunlight catches the gold glint of fine, sparse stubble along her pale legs. After a moment she rests a hand on Gillian’s knee. There are a million things that need saying but for the moment this concert of silence reminds Gillian that there is no one else in the world with whom she can fully share her solitude.

Several satisfying minutes pass by, enough so that she welcomes casual conversation once again: “What was that phone call this morning?” Caroline asks.

Gillian takes a deep, calming breath. “My idiot son drove my Land Rover into a muddy bog.” She looks at Caroline, whose jaw drops with mute horror. “Now that’s something, when it leaves you speechless.”

“You’re being very calm. Did you sneak out, track him down, and kick his arse already without my knowing it?”

Gillian points at her with the fork. “I’ve always loved the way you think.”

“Where’d this happen?”

“Shit road out near Harry’s. First time I ever drove your mum out that way, she called it ‘the road leading to the end of civilization.’ Anyway, Raff says she’s just stuck in bog so we’re waiting get towed. Thanks to this fucking flood everyone is stuck somewhere, needing fixed, needing towed. And it’s Sunday to boot. So God knows when I’ll get her back.” Done with the eggs, she deposits the empty plate on the floor beside the bed.

“There anything I can do?”

Gillian straddles her and begins to undo the thick knot of the dressing gown, lays bare one shoulder. “Give you one guess.”

“Naked prayer circle?”

Her lips touch Caroline’s collarbone. “Aye, you’ll be hollering for Jesus when I’m done with you.” Then she gets distracted and discovers freckles heretofore uncharted. This constellation is shaped a bit like Andromeda. Lightly she traces them.

Head tilted back on the headboard, Caroline observes her lazily. “It’s like you’ve never slept with anyone who’s had freckles before.”

Christ. She noticed. Like a child about to touch a hot stove, Gillian pulls her hand away. “Oh. Sorry.”

Caroline gently seizes her hand, kisses her knuckles. “It doesn’t bother me, really. ” She smiles, almost shyly. “Just not used to it. No one’s ever made a fuss over them before.”

She wants to say, it’s like gold dust all over you but doesn’t because she thinks it sounds too twatty. Instead she parts the dressing gown further and lays bare the smooth plain leading from Caroline’s throat to her chest, her belly, to a hint of pubic hair.  “Almost a shame to take this off, though. Looks damn good on you.”

  “It smells like you.” These words, whispered against Gillian’s ear, bring on another shivery bout of pleasure enhanced by the sharp nip of her ear and the gentle violence of this is almost too much, the frightening line between pleasure and pain blurs. Of all the borderlines crisscrossing and dissecting her mind into fearful, feral fiefdoms, this one is the most dangerous and as such access is routinely denied, and has been for a long time. 

But now? She pins Caroline’s wrist against the headboard and kisses her rough, a way that they’ve both responded to well in the past—and she remembers the last time they were in this bedroom, which seemed very long ago but wasn’t. It was only the second or third time they’d fucked and right before Caroline had been very solemn and lovely and said, quite serious, something that no lover before or since has said to her: don’t ever let me do anything to you that you don’t like, that you don’t want. Despite that caution, Gillian could not override that innate need to provide pleasure at any length and satisfaction at any cost; fortunately Caroline was and remains an attentive and observant lover, knowing when to push the boundaries and when not to. Gillian attributes this to her scientific background—imagining that, as a chemist, she’s used to dealing with volatile, toxic substances.

Like me, Gillian thinks—a thought quickly banished as Caroline continues nibbling on her ear and murmurs, “Take off your shirt for me.”

She releases Caroline’s wrists and, too eager to make a show of it, quickly discards the shirt. “Anything else you want?”

Caroline admires her, clasps her waist, pulls her closer. Still smiling, but with that imperious glint in her eyes. “Anything I want?”

The familiar border crumbles. Gillian hesitates, then: “Yes.”

“Well, then. I’ll tell you what I want. What I really, really want—” She pauses, kisses Gillian’s neck gently, gently, then bites and sucks with enough intensity that they both know a mark will be left. 

Gillian sputters out a laugh. “Spice Girls reunion?”

  “Shit, that was not intentional,” Caroline groans. “That bloody song, it’s like one of those intestinal parasites you can never get rid of—” 

“Focus, Caz. Parasites are not sexy.” 

“Ah, right, right. Hang on.” She resumes with the neck-kissing while slowly, cautiously touching Gillian’s ribs, then the underside of her breast.  “Better?”

“Y-yeah.” That Gillian manages to say anything seems miraculous. She takes a deep breath. “Tell me—what you want.”

“I don’t know. It’s not sexy enough.”

“Come on now.”

   “Was just a random thought.” 

“Tell me.” 

  “You should move your books into the house. It’s damp in the barn and not good for them.”

  In a fit of laughter Gillian collapses, rolling off her and thus losing her topping advantage. 

Giggling, Caroline crows “ah-ha!” and drapes a log leg over her torso, pinning her down.

  “All right, you win. That was not sexy.” 

“Au contraire, winning is always an aphrodisiac for me.”

“Bloody figures.”   

“But books are sexy too.” She continues feasting on Gillian’s neck with the sybaritic intensity of a vampire toying with her food. “Almost as sexy as you.” She pulls back and studies Gillian’s body with eyes and touch, plucking at the waistband of her pajamas. “It would be nice to have them close by, wouldn’t it? In case you ever want to read in bed. Or, er, read in bed to me.”

  Confounded—and suspicious—Gillian blinks at her. “Why’d you want a stammering old pillock like me reading to you?”

“Because I like the sound of your voice,” Caroline replies, as if it’s glaringly obvious. 

“I’ll repeat the question, then.” 

  “Oh come on, you only stammer when you’re angry or worked up about something—well okay, that is like ninety percent of the time but still, you could stammer your way through the entirety of Shakespeare and I’d love every second of it.”

Gillian stares up at her and despite all evidence to the contrary remains fundamentally unconvinced that anyone with half a mind would find anything remotely attractive about her, let alone a cursed, much-loathed defect of speech. “All right. I’ll—I’ll build bookshelves, then. In the fall. Good project for when things slow down.” 

As usual Caroline is mystified by thrift. “You could just buy a bookcase.”

She rolls her eyes. “No.” Scrambling, she frees herself from Caroline’s leg and regains her status on top. She regards Caroline carefully, plotting her next move—where to begin, where to begin?—while Caroline plots of how to lure her further into the trap of capitalism.

  “I could buy you one,” Caroline offers. 

Gillian traces her torso, fingers strumming the soft, ridged plateau of her ribs. “No.”

“For your birthday.”

  God, Gillian thinks, the one time I want her to shut up. “No.” Determined, she lurches upward and kisses Caroline soundly.

It doesn’t work. “Christmas,” Caroline exhales after the kiss.

“No.” Time for serious diversionary tactics: the breasts. 

Ardently she kisses, sucks, teases, and then with her face pressed in the smooth plateau between caresses both breasts—and is both irritated and impressed when Caroline squeaks out, “Arbor Day.” 

Gillian continues on her merry way downward, confirming between kisses: “No.” 

Caroline pulls at her hair and writhes wildly underneath her. “Morrissey’s birthday,” she gasps. 

“Was in June,” Gillian points out. “Already past.”

  Her hands remain tangled with Gillian’s hair. “Stubborn bitch.”

“Isn’t he, though?” 

Caroline’s laugh is truncated by a sharp moan as Gillian’s mouth arrives at a particular erogenous zone: the crease between torso and thigh, the femoral artery running wild beneath her kiss. “Oh fuck—that feels good.” 

Her fingertips graze pubic hair, the back of her hand drags along the interior of Caroline’s thigh. “Give up?”

  “If I say yes, will you keep going?”

“Say yes, say no, say uncle.” She grins.

“You win, my lovely girl,” Caroline says.  

  She basks in the beauty of the moment, the woman before her. The curtain twists in the breeze as if a flag marking the moment of surrender, the distant sound of a lapwing calling peewit lazily winds through the warm thicket of summer air, and the rich boundless contours of Caroline’s body are reminiscent of odalisques seen in museums when she was a teen—the kind of paintings that brought about a revelatory unease in her—and she thinks she has never seen Caroline look so relaxed when naked, and beautiful, so beautiful. 

She dives in. The patience she cannot be bothered to extend to people or situations because they’re all too bloody complicated she finds instead in reading, working, fixing things, and making love. She remembers well how Caroline likes it—slow and easy, the teases, the feints, penetration at the right moment—it is a gift to be inside her, to taste her, to be penitent and powerful all at once.

Caroline’s fingers are flexing rhythmically as they push through her hair and press into her scalp. Her urgent touch falls away and her palms press against Gillian’s shoulders before her nails bite into Gillian’s skin. “Jesus,” she moans, then “oh God,” and Gillian half-expects to hear invocation of the Holy Ghost next but when she hears her own name in a reverential susurrus, she decides she’s beyond pleased to be included in this sacredly profane trifecta.

apres-midi du farmer 

After so much pleasure in so short a span of time, Caroline’s sense of duty has percolated with such fury that it spills into her subconscious and the list of things she has to prepare for in the coming week drops into her wakening mind with the fierce magnificence of an unexpected Beyonce song released on the internet.

She would sit up dramatically save for the fact that she is tangled up with Gillian, who is draped over her, dead asleep, and drooling on her breast. Her frantic efforts to grab Gillian’s mobile from the nightstand in order to check the time wake up her slumbering companion, however briefly: She makes a mewling noise and rolls off Caroline and onto a pillow. Finally Caroline snags the mobile, hits a button, and is informed by the greasy cracked screen that it is nearly 2:30 in the afternoon, 2:24 to be precise; this discovery leads her to utter an oath reserved for only the direst of emotional circumstances and crises:

“Jesus Fucking Christ on a Cadbury Egg Hunt!” 

Again Gillian makes a kittenish noise. 

Caroline nudges her. “It’s 2:30!”

This time Gillian makes an oh really? kind of hum.

  Sadly, Caroline realizes it is time for deployment of the always-effective headmistress roar: “Gillian!” 

Wide-eyed, Gillian bolts up with the ferocity of a reanimated zombie. “Shit,” she groans, then blinks at the mobile in Caroline’s hand. “Did Raff call about—”

“—no, he didn’t call about your fucking Landy!” Caroline says, even though (1) she has no idea if this is true, and (2) she understands on a profound, Bee Gees how-deep-is-your-love level the pure, unconditional devotion of a woman for her automobile. Nonetheless she leaps out of bed and pulls on the plaid dressing gown, which somehow ended up on the floor during the morning’s sexual shenanigans—oh yes, hastily shoved aside when she had pressed Gillian against the headboard and started fucking her and she can’t imagine how many scratches are on her back now as a result—no, she begs herself, don’t start thinking about that. “It’s two-thirty in the bloody sodding afternoon and I have things to do, I have a proposal to write, a budget to look at, teachers to interview for the fall, playdates and meetings, it’s a whole long list in my head, and, and—don’t you have things to do?” she marvels.

“Well,” Gillian says. “It’s all relative, really.” She rakes hair out of her face and smiles.

Philosophical naked women are a particular weakness for Caroline and she wants nothing more than to crawl back into that bed with that woman. Then she wants to slap herself straight into sense but instead reverts to what she does best, which is ranting: “Oh God, my mother has probably left a hundred messages on my mobile, Lawrence is stranded in Sheffield with Angus but who knows, maybe they’ve finally consummated their relationship, and it’s probably a miracle your father isn’t here or Raff or the goddamned Land Trust—I need to shower—” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Gillian makes a move to get out of bed. 

“No, Halifax succubus!” She thrusts an accusing finger at Gillian. “We are not showering together, I cannot risk shower sex with you.”

“‘Halifax succubus?’” Gillian muses aloud. Then, as Caroline stomps down the hallway and into the bathroom, shouts after her: “Should be able to shower when I want in my own house, y’know!” 

“Wash up in the sink!” Caroline yells just before she leaps into the shower and confronts the unpredictable water pressure, grimacing as bitterly cold water spikes her skin. 

  Which, about five minutes later, Gillian does. “My own bloody house,” she grumbles good-naturedly whilst at the sink.

  “You’re using up the hot water.”

Gillian cackles maniacally. “Damn right I am.” 

“I’m sorry, but you are a perpetual temptation and I am but a weak, mortal woman.”

“Don’t talk fancy at me. I get it, you’ve a list of things you want to do. Me, I’ve just a got a list of things I want to do to you in a shower.” 

Caroline’s resolve dwindles rapidly, going down the drain like the suds from the Jack Black True Volume Shampoo that she’s using and assumes is some sort of leftover from either Raff or Robbie’s testosterone toilette, but it appears to be the only shampoo in the stall. 

“Or a bath,” Gillian continues. “That’d be fun too.”

  “Next time, then.” A silence, as Caroline realizes she has committed to this happening again. While on some level that seemed obvious, this casual promise gives the last twenty-four hours or so substance, makes it all real. Despite the stinging shampoo in her eyes, she arches on the balls of her feet in happy anticipation of Gillian’s response. 

“Yeah,” Gillian replies softly. “All right.” Something clatters. “Oh, I um, have a toothbrush for you here. Gonna get dressed and put the kettle on.”

  Out of the shower Caroline attempts multitasking: While wrapped in a towel she waves Gillian’s ancient hairdryer at her wet hair while trying to brush her teeth with the never-used toothbrush. Then she gets seriously distracted by the thought of Gillian just randomly having a new toothbrush available for her use. Does she have a stockpile of toothbrushes available for sexual conquests? With the toothbrush lodged in her foaming mouth and the hairdryer spewing hot air at her head, she noses around the bathroom looking for a secret toothbrush supply, but the medicine cabinet only holds an alarming amount of plasters, gauze bandages and surgical tape, antiseptic creams, and antibacterial sprays all necessary to the life of a woman constantly surrounded by sharp and dangerous objects. Guiltily Caroline stares at herself in the mirror. She has toothpaste in her hair. 

About twenty minutes later she is mostly dressed and plowing through a second attempt at multitasking: trying to pull on socks while hopping down the hallway. Obviously Gillian has heard this irregular thumping from downstairs because when Caroline is on the steps—socks on, not hopping—she finds Gillian waiting at the bottom of the stairs, rocking back and forth as she does sometimes when nervous, holding a cup of tea and gazing up at Caroline as if she is some sort of adoring concierge.

  “Your mobile rang,” Gillian says.

  Gratefully Caroline takes the tea. “Why didn’t you answer it?” She wants to kick herself. She’s not your bloody personal assistant. She’s not Beverly.  “No. Um. Sorry. I meant, you could have answered it—if you wanted too.” 

This prompts a derisive snort. “You kidding? It was probably your mum.”

  “Probably.” She sips the tea and realizes she is as nervous as Gillian is. She is about to awkwardly go in for a kiss when Gillian darts away and mumbles that her mobile is in the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, she peruses her messages. Of course there are about eight voice mails from her mother, all variations upon the classic theme of where the eff are you? and what the hell is going on?  She girds her loins and calls. 

“What the eff are you doing out there?” is the first thing Celia says. “What the hell is going on?”

“Why Mum, I’d have never guessed it was you.” 

“We thought you’d be back by now. Is Gillian actually making you work?” Celia pauses before tendering the delicate inquiry in a shrill tone: “Are you handling sheep?” 

“No, everything’s fine, we’re all intact, and I have not laid a hand on a single sheep.”

  “Did she tell you what Raff did to the Land Rover?”

“Yes.” 

“Has she murdered him yet?” 

Caroline winces at the regrettable hyperbole. “No. How’s Flora?” 

“Oh, lovely as usual. She and Greg are in the garden right now looking at worms.”

“Worms,” Caroline says flatly. 

“Yes, apparently after the rains she found a few while playing and she is quite fascinated with them. Earlier today they discovered ladybugs and slugs. She’s putting them all in your Oxford travel mug. She’s been asking after you. We told her you were off saving the sheep from the flood.” Celia laughs.

  When Lawrence and William were younger, she had thought nothing of the occasional weekend trip that would take her away from them—the conferences, the supposedly romantic long weekends and adult-only vacations with her husband that, with time, usually ended up with them both drunk and arguing more often than not—so she does not expect the acute, palpable stab of guilt that radiates through her chest and leaves her standing senseless and numb and, once the call is over, staring at a black screen and thinking I should be there, I should be the one showing her bugs. Duty and expectation always came easy to her and she embraced it with fervor; it was a privilege to be entrusted to care for children, to run a household, a school. She could not love Flora any more than she already does, but the responsibility of this child is fraught with a meaning that has, over the past two years, nearly crippled Caroline with endless self-recrimination and doubt. 

She’s still staring at the phone when Gillian comes into the kitchen. When Gillian sees the expression on Caroline’s face she dials back her big, sweet grin and jams her hands into her pockets. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah,” Caroline says perfunctorily. “It’s—” She shakes it off, smiles, and reports the only thing that matters: “Flora is collecting bugs in the garden.” 

“Got a curiosity about ’em, doesn’t she?” Gillian grabs an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and starts washing it. “Calam has this picture book—all drawings of animals and such. It has a few pictures of insects in it like a spider, a ladybug, and a caterpillar, and a butterfly—well, when Flora was here last, I showed her the book and after we’d looked through the whole thing she kept turning back to the insects—she really liked the caterpillar and the butterfly. I was trying to tell her that the caterpillar turns into the butterfly but I don’t think she was having any of that, kept looking at me like I was off my nut.”

  Helpless, Caroline glares at her. “You know my own child better than I do.”

  Gillian rolls her eyes, and to Caroline’s mild horror wipes the apple on the front of her jeans. “All recent developments, Caz. You know how kids are. One week they’re keen on one thing, next week it’s something completely different. You can’t notice everything.” She heads back to the living room and calls over her shoulder, “Come sit and finish your tea, yeah?”

  Instead of heeding the suggestion, she makes the mistake of checking email on the mobile and encounters several tedious messages about setting up and conducting interviews for the new teacher. Her stomach churns. Wandering into the living room, all thoughts of worms and caterpillars and teachers and interviews fly out of her head, for Gillian’s particular brand of rough but indisputably feminine sensuality is on full display: she sits in a sprawl on the couch, legs extended and feet bare, lazily chewing on a bite of the apple. It’s so undeniably erotic that she stops dead in her tracks. Then Gillian looks at her knowingly, lustily—o the mighty Caroline McKenzie-Dawson wishes she were an apple, doesn’t she?—and the conflagration of desire and emotion burns hotter and brighter.

“C’mere,” Gillian says around a mouthful of apple.

   Caroline shifts nervously. “No,” she blurts. 

A sardonic laugh. Gillian keeps eyeing her. “No?” 

Self-conscious, she looks away from Gillian’s beautiful eyes and feels as awkwardly on display as when she was nineteen years old and attending a lesbian and gay social at Oxford for the first time. 

  “I’ll let you have a bite of my apple,” Gillian singsongs. 

  Caroline laughs. “I seem to recall hearing a story like this a long time ago.” 

“If it’s the story I think you mean—don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

Caroline crosses her arms. Usually she feels quite self-important and in charge when she does this, but in this moment the gesture feels more as if she is somehow barely holding herself together. “Be flattered. Very flattered.”

“So you’re just going to stand there like a numpty ’til you fall over.”

“Very likely, yes.” 

Humming, Gillian finishes the apple, rolls the well-gnawed core in a napkin, and places it on a side table. She leans back into the couch again and in this manner of voluptuous repose resembles a wild queen of the forest bored with both debauchery and duty and awaiting the one subject that will liven her mundane existence, and so softly issues a summons:  “Caroline.’

Well. Unable to resist the devil’s draw, Caroline fights off the almost imperceptible buckling of her knees and strides across the room.

  Gillian seems surprised by this as well; she is clearly not expecting to be boldly mounted, have her face cradled in Caroline’s hands, and to be kissed so senselessly that her eyes glaze over similar to when she has consumed three or more glasses of wine and prompting Caroline to silently congratulate herself on being a similar form of intoxicant. 

“Jesus,” Gillian exhales. 

The insistent pounding of blood in her veins drives her on. “When can I see you again?” 

Gillian’s eyelids flutter. “W-whenever you like.” Then, as if remembering something: “Wednesday.” 

Clearly Caroline has forgotten it too. “Wednesday?”

  “Yeah. Gonna be at your place anyway. Remember? Taking Dad for his checkup.” 

“Oh.  Right. You’re still—going to stay for dinner?”

“Of course. Unless you don’t want—”

“No. I want you to.” 

“We won’t have time to—”

“I know.” Caroline pauses. Her mouth moves, the words struggle to come out, but finally do: “It—it’s enough just to see you.”

  “Yeah?” Gillian’s pupils blossom, dots of ink from a divine fountain pen that drop a dark expanse into those amazing irises, and that stupidly prompts Caroline to think of some old song from the 80s—oh you’ve got green eyes oh you’ve got blue eyes oh you’ve got gray eyes—and God help her, she’s pushing Gillian down on the sofa and they’re at it again: Clothes discarded in a whirlwind of haste except for Gillian’s jeans, which are always a bit of an ordeal to pull off and seriously, she deserves another orgasm for accomplishing that task alone but instead she slips a hand between Gillian’s legs and cradles her cunt, possessed of great patience despite the nervy curl of her fingers and waiting for the single tremulous please whispered into her neck before entering her. She particularly likes to watch Gillian’s face at this moment: the tense lines around her mouth slackening into pleasure and eventually release. In the Mobius strip contortions of sex satiety becomes need and after she comes Caroline moves against her roughly, grinding against her thigh until the surprising intensity of the climax falls over her like a wave. 

Afterward she does not fall asleep so much as enter a drowsy fugue state while lying there on the couch and more or less on top of Gillian, who at some point managed to pull a quilt over them against a vigorous, chilly cross breeze; even in the summer, the farmhouse living room stays surprisingly cool. Silence here is different than at home, in Harrogate; silence here intensifies the smallest sound and the swish of the wind ruffling a newspaper reigns equally with tires on gravel, bleating sheep, a leaking faucet, and her own obvious comments: “It’s so peaceful here.” 

In response Gillian merely hums and strokes her hair, her glugging heartbeat providing a backbeat to the torch song of her blood, the muscles of her forearm twitch restlessly in the clasp of Caroline’s hand. 

“I have to go,” she finally says. 

  “I know.” Gillian says it clearly, strongly, as if she has been bracing herself for it in every action and breath since the moment they kissed the night before.

  Despite her reputation as someone operating on pure reckless impulse, Caroline knows that she mulls things over to the point of obsessiveness; perhaps that is why the execution and results of her decisions are less than ideal—classic overthinking, pummeling things in her mind to such an extent that no action seems ideal or even makes sense anymore. It would not surprise Caroline that in the aftermath of all this Gillian has been cogitating mightily all along—perhaps more than she does herself. Perhaps Gillian thinks that this is not the beginning of anything but merely a sex-saturated coda to what they had been before, because there is simply no way of going forward. So she could back out, save a scrap of dignity while rescuing Caroline from violating whatever vague code of ethics she lives by, a code at times impenetrable and incomprehensible to Gillian and seemingly bent by the arbitrary whim of a woman in constant conflict between desire and expectation.

“Can—can I say something?” Gillian begins, and Caroline finds it heartbreaking that she seeks permission to speak up in her own home.

She presses her face against Gillian’s sternum, the boombox that contains a very complicated heart, and tastes the sweet salt of sweat. She thinks of how, as a child, she would press her face against the stereo speakers in her father’s study, desperate to catch the warp and hiss and delicate strains of music, as if she wanted to taste the sound—and laughing in delight when an orchestra would rise up and knock her back on her arse. “Of course.”

As usual the mix of thoughts and desires that go through Gillian’s mind tumble out in poorly congealed fashion; Caroline likens it to following an elaborate recipe in a cookbook where the result turns out to be an edible yet spectacular mess that in no way resembles the glistening food porn photo in the book itself. It’s particularly true in this case, where she is obviously trying her damnedest to ensure not only Caroline’s happiness, but her own:  “I just wanted to say it’s, it’s okay. If you want to keep seeing her. Sacha, I mean. Yeah? I want you to be happy. And I’m happy being with you like this, spending time with you when we can. I want to be with you, and, and I don’t know what—what that could be like, you know? Well, yeah, maybe you don’t know yet either. But, I’ll, I’ll take what you’re willing to give.”

It is at this crucial, awkward, and somewhat inconvenient moment that Caroline finally remembers she already has a girlfriend.

to an evening star

On the drive home the evening sky is so spectacular that Caroline eschews sunglasses, boldly squinting westward into white and gold and pink and orange—she stops counting at seven different colors and thinks, if only the skeins of the sunset could be gathered and woven into one fantastic word that would adequately describe them. It is the time of day when one should be sitting somewhere with a drink or walking across the moors, in either instance the ideal being alone or with the right person. 

It would have been nice to fit in a walk with Gillian this time. In times past, whenever she visited the farm they made a habit of going for a walk together. The last time, however, seems a lifetime ago and she has since molted several skins of grief; it was about seven months after Kate died and not long after Gillian had married Robbie. For no reason in particular it had been a bad week and she had only gotten through it on diazepam-driven automatic pilot and wanted nothing less than enduring a family dinner at the farm. But Alan had twisted his ankle while gardening and so it was Caroline’s chauffeuring abilities and not her company that was desired. While straining at the effort of bare civilities, she avoided a nervous breakdown and got through the meal. Afterward, Gillian—rocking on heels, peering at Caroline from under bangs desperate for trimming—shyly mumbled a suggestion that they go for a walk, as if for all the world Caroline would refuse this mad idea when in fact she was seconds from collapsing under the chaos of the household and if she heard Robbie tell more banal police adventure about drunkards at the pub she would scream. 

She dreaded the possibility that Gillian might use the walk as an opportunity to bitch about Robbie and/or enumerate a list of recent shags. Instead Gillian prattled softly about the land, in that sweet low burr she used only with those closest to her. It was late autumn and late afternoon, with the sun hugging the horizon and shooting through the sparse clouds in a last blaze of glory, throwing shadows and gold on the dales and copses, the moss and hedgerows, the evergreen heather. They had taken a different path than times before, one Caroline was not familiar with, so Gillian would stop and point out things. Down a ways, she said, was the stream where she and her father used to fish when she was young. And there, that old broken fence along that bridleway—used to jump over it with ease. Probably break my neck now. 

On the way back they encountered Gillian’s closest neighbor, a wizened, gnarled old farmer named Pete and his sullen middle-aged son. While Gillian and Pete made impromptu arrangements to help each other at harvest, the son mercilessly appraised Caroline as if she were a ewe at a country fair—not quite top notch in his silent estimation, but she would do. 

Under normal circumstances she would have no problem summoning a few choice words cutting him down to size. But she was tired, tired of being mercilessly judged by any male idiot with an opinion, and she grew increasingly enraged. She glared at him, trembled, and her jaw tightened in a massive effort to not scream what the fuck do you think you’re looking at? Then, without breaking conversational stride, Gillian casually took her hand. She could breathe again; in fact, she released such a hoarse, shuddering breath that Pete gave her a concerned look. His son glanced down, caught sight of the clannish, protective gesture of her hand in Gillian’s, scowled, and turned away. 

Meanwhile Gillian laughed at Pete’s joking efforts to sell her an aging ewe. Then the men went one way and they went another. Gillian kept hold of her hand for a while, even gently swinging their arms back and forth as they walked in silence. Then she told Caroline that after Eddie died Pete, ever the dealmaker, had been mad keen to match her up with his unmarriageable son—complete eejit, she said. Makes Robbie look like Stephen Hawking. 

That made Caroline laugh. Few things made her laugh back then. Even now, it’s not as easy as it used to be. Now. She realizes that she has not had a proper panic attack about all this—resurrecting this affair, what it means, how it will play out—and so she pulls over abruptly on the side of the road, breathing heavily at the shock of the new and the old commingled together in this thing called life. Way to go, she thinks derisively, think about Prince—one of Kate’s favorite musicians—now of all times. She recalls how Kate had initially proposed painting the nursery a very lurid shade of lavender in honor of the Purple One; Caroline had to rely on a steady supply of ice cream and sexual favors to convince her otherwise. She chuckles aloud at that—and abruptly stops. She has arrived at the point she has dreaded for so long now, where memories of Kate were growing relatively painless because now she is strong enough to forsake the bad ones and hold dear to the good ones. For so long pain had been the only thing convincing her that she had loved, that it was real, and the void it would leave too terrible to contemplate. 

She stares at the sunset. The white edge of the multi-skeined sunset cedes to blue and the glint of the evening star. This morning she witnessed not the sunrise but the nascent blaze of bright heat from the open door in Gillian’s kitchen, standing there barefoot and in a dressing gown not her own, eating buttered toast with cunty fingers—all the perfections of English life distilled into one moment, as an always-obscure writer once posited. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she had been content. She sighs and climbs back into the Jeep Cherokee. Hedonistic pursuit of another moment like that will have to wait.

  An hour later she pulls into the driveway of the house and is unsurprised when accosted by her mother and Alan the second she steps out of the vehicle.

“Well,” Celia declares, folding her arms. “We thought you’d gone native out there.” She nods at Caroline’s Wellies, which Caroline has retrieved from the back seat and are baptized with grime.

“You do realize Gillian lives in a house and is not some wandering gypsy around a campfire?”

“You’d never know by the way she acts sometimes,” Celia replies.

Rather than contradict this, Alan grumbles in agreement.

Caroline sighs. “What’d she do now?”

Poking at his mobile, Alan brings a series of Gillian’s terse texts on screen and, once read, resemble a form of cranky beatnik poetry:

Im ok just leave it hes an idiot fuck I want brandy snaps don’t lecture me old man christ

Alan rumbles, “Not one bit of relevant information!”

“Except the bit about the Brandy Snaps,” Celia observes helpfully. 

  “Like getting blood from stone!”  

“At least she didn’t call you a mad old dyke,” Caroline replies, recalling Gillian’s most infamous text to her, for which Caroline had to endure a drunken, stammering, nearly incoherent apology several months after the fact. By that time she had completely forgotten it and on recalling it once again, thought Gillian had deserved to call her far worse in light of the events that had transpired between them. Blame yourself as usual, Caroline thinks. When Alan pulls a face of pure despair—sometimes she thinks her mother’s melodramatic antics are a poor influence on him—she squeezes his arm affectionately. “Don’t worry so—she’s fine, really. And given everything that’s happened, the farm could be in far worse shape. She was in, um, good spirits when I left.” Now she longs for the camouflage of sunglasses because she’s fearful that the luscious glaze of her eyes and the rosy glow of her cheeks will somehow announce to Alan that she has spent the better portion of the past twenty-four hours fucking his daughter. 

Fortunately Alan moves on to the Land Rover Drama. “Land Rover’s out of the mud, at last. All she needs is cleaning up.” He chuckles, shakes his head. “Aye, poor Raff, that’ll keep him busy!” He kisses Caroline’s cheek and murmurs, “Well, anyhoo. Welcome back, love. See you at dinner.”

“Although God knows when that will be,” Celia mutters, as Alan heads back to the guesthouse.  “A lot has happened in a day,” she says to Caroline, and matches her daughter’s gait as they meander to the front door.

“Yes,” Caroline sighs happily—then, before the old woman could get suspicious, reforms it as a question: “Yes?”  

“Lawrence keeps going on about clown school.”

“Well, it may be the only chance he has, you know?”

“William broke up with his girlfriend.”

“Told him he should shave that bloody beard.”

“John called. He’s out of rehab but he’s still writing a memoir about you.”

“You think Meryl Streep would play me in the film? She’d love the challenge of a new accent.”

“I’ve saved the worst for last,” Celia says, and then intones grimly with her flair for the dramatic: “Greg is making tofu.”

“Oh shit,” Caroline wails. While Greg is a decent cook, his ambitions sometimes exceed his natural talents; she is still discovering bits of chocolate here and there stuck to countertops, appliances, and various crevices courtesy of this spring’s Great Souffle Debacle.

“He’s having woman trouble,” Celia says, as if this justified destruction of her kitchen.

She groans. Recently Greg had become enamored of a woman named Brigitte; on first glance she seemed as compelling and attractive as a Malibu Barbie still trapped inside the box. What nudged Caroline’s apathy into active dislike was this woman’s barely concealed consternation regarding Flora’s mere existence.

Speaking of whom, when Caroline opens the door Flora, like a tiny determined rugby player, rushes at her, crashing against her shins. She scoops the girl up into her arms. 

Flora’s default greeting these days is an enthusiastic “Hey!” with arms raised.  

“Hey yourself, sweetheart! I’ve missed you.” She notices that Flora is desperately trying to wipe tofu goop from her hands onto her orange hippo t-shirt. “God, why are your hands so white?”

Celia opens her mouth.

Caroline is one step ahead: “If you make any sort of racist comment right now I will smother you to death with tofu.”

“Everyone is so sensitive these days,” Celia complains. She shrugs dismissively. “Fine, I’m leaving. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.” She nods toward the kitchen. “He is like a woman and you like women, as we all know.” On that barbed note, she departs.

“Tofu,” Flora says, quite clearly.

On one hand, Caroline is disappointed not to hear her say mum—which she hasn’t done yet but Greg has assured her that Flora said it the other day while pointing at a picture of her; on another, she’s relieved that Flora has stopped saying shit. At least for now. 

The kitchen is indeed a wreck and Greg sits morosely at the table, surrounded by old cookbooks, soybeans soaking in a pot, and batches of tofu in various blob-like states and stages, as if he is Dr. Frankenstein brooding in his lab and flanked by brains in jars and convict corpses ready for reanimation. Her first thought is to snap a pic and text it to Gillian with a caption: The Tofu That Ate Harrogate. Over the past year, she has made a concerted effort not to treat him like complete shit; it seemed an easy enough goal to achieve once she became truly cognizant of the fact that while she may have lost a wife, he suffered a loss too: one of his oldest and closest friends, the woman who kept his confidences, offered him advice, and vetted his girlfriends. Clearly there is no replacing Kate. But she could do better in providing some sort of emotional support for him—although she fears her lack of diplomacy may rear its ugly head if he ever seeks an honest opinion of Brigitte. 

Caroline attempts to joke him out of it: “There’s really no need to out-lesbian me, you know.”

His pathetic attempt at a smile resembles the sad rallying look of a Labradoodle on a rainy day. 

“Right, then. What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m in love,” he says. 

Gently she juggles Flora, who squirms restlessly while smooshing tiny sticky tofu fists against her face. 

“Mum!” Flora barks, as if to say pay attention to me and not the nitwit who made tofu in your kitchen. 

  “Well.” Caroline grins ridiculously. The day could not possibly get any better. “It’s wonderful to be in love.”

  SOUNDTRACK: “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend),” Wilco—oh, but it’s long, like this chapter. “Temptation,” New Order  “Everything Hits at Once,” Spoon “Evening Star,” from Richard Wagner’s Tannhauser (Franz Liszt transcription) 

[msbigredmachine]

Believe - A Roman Reigns Valentine’s Day One-Shot

Still hurting from a nasty breakup, Livia is convinced that love does not exist. But Roman decides to prove her wrong...in the most romantic way possible. A VERY FLUFFY Valentine's Day one-shot. Roman/OC

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

Inspired by yet another fic I read ages ago.

@lavitabella87 | @cynda-wrasslin | @caramara3 | @alexahood21 | @nickysmum1909 | @iloveenzoamore | @fan-fiction-galore | @flawlessglamazon | @hardcorewwetrash | @helluvawriter | @emmarablack | @banrioncethlenn | @laigy2213 | @redalternativefirefly | @fmlallthewayup | @lilmisscrisis | @imagines–assemble | @knowdagirlm | @blondekel77 | @lclb12 | @shadow-of-wonder | @fandom-preferences-imagines | @reignsappreciationpagefics | @heilisk | @reigns420 | @withwordslikeweapons | @hiitsmecharlie @wwesmut​ @wwe-smutfics​ @romanreignsnet​ @romanreignsfanpage​ @roman-reigns-gifs​ @roman-reigns-empire​ @littlewrestlingnerd​ @smutwwe @vebner37 @irenelove83

Livia Myles snorted with disdain at the red circle surrounding the date before tearing her eyes away from the calendar hanging on the wall. Tomorrow was February the fourteenth. Who cared? Everyone on the WWE roster except her, apparently. She used to care, once upon a time. She used to get all giddy with excitement too whenever that date came around. But that was when everything was going right for her.

What a difference one year made.

It felt like it was just yesterday when she was celebrating Valentine's Day with her fiancé and making plans for their summer wedding. He would soon dump her and run off with another woman a month before they were to marry. Apparently he just couldn't "keep up with her busy work schedule". Then, as if she hadn't been humiliated enough, he proceeded to publicly and unapologetically flaunt his new trophy on every social media platform there was to offer. Her eyes welled up with tears at the thought of that asshole and everything she had sacrificed for his ungrateful ass.

Work this past week was torture as she had to listen to her friends gush and speculate over what their other halves had in store for them on Valentine's Day. She was happy for them; she just wished she didn't feel like gagging every time she heard another one of their sappy stories. A few guys on the roster had asked her out but Livia turned them all down, instead concentrating on improving her personality as Raw’s backstage interviewer. The emotional stress that often came with dating and relationships just wasn't worth it anymore. No man was worth the heartache she kept putting herself through over and over again. With that one act of callousness, Rick single-handedly destroyed the concept of love for her. And since February fourteenth now represented everything she hated, the date was now relegated to just another day in her "busy work schedule". And that was exactly where it belonged.

It didn’t matter anyway. None of it mattered. It wasn’t like she deserved to be with anyone, not after what she’d done. As far as Livia was concerned, she was better off alone.

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

Idly flipping through the magazine on her lap as they waited for the company jet to take off, Charlotte turned to her colleague and friend, Roman Reigns, who was sitting quietly beside her with his head in his hands. Her brows furrowed with concern. He'd been like this all morning and she wondered what was wrong. Attempting to engage him in conversation, she began, cheerfully, "So, Mr. Big Dog…what are your plans for Valentine's Day?"

He said nothing. In fact, he didn't seem to have heard her at all. "Roman?" Charlotte ducked her head down to peer into his face. His eyes were sad, dejected even. "Hey," she cooed, reaching out to rub his back soothingly. "What's the matter?"

The two of them had been friends for a long time now, developing a bond after WrestleMania 32 in Dallas. They could trust each other with a lot of things. But Roman wasn't sure that Charlotte could help him this time. Instead he sighed heavily, and the current Raw Women’s Champion tried to identify her friend's problem. "Let me see. It’s Valentine’s season, and you haven’t answered me about your plans. So I take it that this is about Liv," she inquired, rolling her eyes when he gave her a strange look. "Come on, we all see you two together backstage. You’re totally into each other."

A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he looked away. Charlotte sighed and put a hand to her chest. "Aww, Ro-Ro. Have you told her yet?"

Slowly, reluctantly, Roman shook his head.

"No? What do you mean no? You've liked her since forever and you still haven't told her that you have feelings for her? What are you waiting for?" Despite her outburst, Charlotte was not too surprised. Roman was not the guy the fans saw on TV every Monday night; brash, cocky, a victim of his own hype. He was quiet, reserved and humble. He was a complete gentleman and treated every woman he came across with respect. Any woman would have been lucky to have him, including the one he was so in love with.

"Look, I just can't," insisted Roman. "We're really good friends, you know? It'll only make things weird between us."

"My boyfriend and I started out as friends," Charlotte reasoned.

"Yeah, but what if it does go weird between me and Liv? I don't want to lose her friendship," Roman admitted, his heart actually beginning to ache at the thought of losing the backstage interviewer altogether. "She's very special to me. I know she's been through a lot and I don't want to complicate things by droppin' this on her, y'know?"

Charlotte shot him a sympathetic look. "You’ve been through a lot too, so I understand what you mean,” she said. “Look, I know it seems complicated, but it isn't. Just go for it. If you two belong together, then it will work out. And trust me when I say that you two definitely belong together."

Roman looked up at her, his eyes bright with hope. "You really think so?"

When she nodded, he pursed his lips, allowing her words to sink into his mind. It all sounded good, really good, but was it too good to be true? "Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell a girl that you love her?"

"Maybe," Charlotte replied, smiling gently. "But I think you owe it to yourself to tell her. You can't go on like this."

He sighed, letting a moment of silence settle between them. "So, what should I do?"

"Simple. Show her that you love her…what's that word…woo her…no pun intended at all," she laughed.

A dull sense of dread climbed up his chest. Woo? He didn’t know much about wooing. Most ladies simply threw themselves at him; he never needed to put in much effort. "How?"

Charlotte lifted her eyebrow in surprise. "How? Flowers, cards, candy, the works, that's how. Do you know how long it's been since anyone did anything romantic for that girl? Roman, Livia needs this. You need this. You’re long overdue for a challenge, and she's long overdue for a bit of romance in her life." She leaned closer to the former Shield member, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. "And since tomorrow's Valentine's Day and you don't have any plans…maybe it's the perfect time to do something special for her."

Roman pressed his hand to his temple in concentration. Obviously he was considering this; whether, just whether, he could actually pull this off. After a few minutes, his eyes finally met Charlotte's, a nervous smile on his face.

"Will you help me?"

Her world-famous smirk widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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

Valentine's Day…

Livia let out a tired sigh, moving sluggishly down the pathway to her Tampa home. Damn, she was exhausted. She'd just managed to get some sleep last night after her multi-hour flight back home, then at nine o'clock this morning, Charlotte had stopped by the house and dragged her out for a "girls' day out". It was now nearly eight p.m., and the backstage interviewer was just getting home.

Livia understood why her friend was doing this for her and she loved her to death for it, but if the blonde was preparing for her night with her boyfriend she should have left her out of it. She just wanted to spend her few days off soaking herself in a nice warm bath, cooking and then lying in bed for hours, sleeping; forgetting, if only temporarily, about the hell she'd gone through over the past several months with Rick.

As she fumbled inside her bag for her house keys, her cell phone suddenly rang loudly, the sound tearing through the quiet Tampa air. Growling impatiently, Livia pulled the phone from her purse and saw a message icon with Charlotte's name blinking at her. Didn't they just hang out seconds ago? Jeez. Rolling her eyes she opened the message, wondering what the Women’s Champion wanted now.

Whatever you see when you get into your house? Believe it. Believe him.

Livia sighed with annoyance. What the hell was she talking about? Believe what? And who the fuck was him? Figuring that Charlotte had sent the message to the wrong number, she snapped the phone shut and unlocked her front door, acutely aware that she was seconds away from getting her well-deserved sleep. She pushed inside and her eyes grew wide, her handbag slipping out of her grasp.

The lights were off, but you would never have noticed with the candles that beautifully illuminated the room. They were everywhere, all electric candles, and an appealing scent emanated from them, wafting through the air like sweet incense. 

Livia's stunned stare fell upon the table underneath the mirror on the wall to her left. There sat a vase with a long-stemmed red rose inside it. Her body moved on its own accord, walking to the table to take the rose. She inhaled it before turning her attention to the red-colored card that was propped up against the vase.

Hello, my love. I hope you like the candles. See how they light up the entire place, just like you light up every room you walk into. You light up my heart, my darling. Come, let's take a walk. Follow the trail.

She couldn't recognize the writing. Her senses were even too numb to fully grasp what was going on. At first she wanted to think it was a stalker or something, but there was a familiarity about this that made her feel safe. She noticed how the candles were lined up like a lit runway ahead of her, making a trail for her to follow. Putting the card away, she followed the trail, which seemed to be taking her to her den. Her heart swelled as she saw more vases standing alongside the scented candles on the floor, each containing a red rose. On reaching the den she froze, her mouth dropping open.

There had to be dozens of them; dozens of marble vases, each containing a red rose, all over the room. They came together to give the room a wonderful, floral fragrance. If Livia liked roses before, she loved them now. 

In the middle of the den stood a blow-up photograph of her, and Livia recognized it as her favorite photo from the WWE Women’s most recent Valentine's Day shoot. There was another card addressed to her, on top of the picture. She managed to unfold it with shaking hands.

I know how much you love roses, my dear, so I made sure I could fit as many as possible in here. They may be beautiful but they pale in comparison to you, my love; you are the most beautiful face in this room, or any room for that matter. Words cannot describe the way I feel inside when I look at you; you spark my passion, ignite my fire, fuel my every desire. Your beauty takes my breath away. Breathe in, Princess.

She took a deep breath, and she'd never smelled anything so wonderful. She continued reading the card.

Let's go upstairs.

With numb legs, Livia left the den and went upstairs. More red roses and more candles adorned both sides of each staircase, the lights from the candles giving the stairs an angelic glow. On reaching the top of the stairs she read the rest of the note.

Walk into the bathroom.

Livia moved quickly, pushing open the bathroom door, and she had to take a step back. "Oh my God," she breathed, putting her hands to her mouth.

Tiny candles lit the bathroom and all around the bathtub, making the whiteness of the tiles glow even more radiantly. Livia raked her hair out of her teary eyes, touched yet in disbelief by all of this. 

She looked into the bathtub. Yes, more red roses, cut into petals and sprinkled all over the water. She dipped her hand in the tub; the water felt so warm and inviting…

I ran you a bath, darling. You must be tired from the long day. Go on. Take a dip, if you wish. I also left you some treats by the tub. I hear they’re your favorite.

Unable, or rather, unwilling to resist, she placed the card on the sink and took off her clothes. She sighed contentedly as she lowered herself into the warm water, making herself comfortable. A big smile spread across her face when she spied a white china plate filled with fat, juicy-looking strawberries, accompanied by a bowl of melted chocolate sitting on the side of the tub. 

Stuck among the fruit was another card. Putting a chocolate-dipped strawberry into her mouth, Livia took the note and read, eager to know what else this mystery man had to say.

Delicious aren't they, the strawberries? So ripe and perfect and tasty, and the chocolate; so irresistible and sweet. You, my love, are irresistible. Oh, what I would give for just one taste of your sweet lips, to kiss them for all eternity; to run my fingers through your long, beautiful hair and your perfect face and your perfect body. Every day I long to make you mine, and I hope someday you will give me that chance.

Livia felt her entire body flush with appreciation. These were such flattering words. She lay back and settled fully into the tub, then reached for another strawberry. She glanced at the other side of the tub and saw the Bath & Body Works gift set containing a shower gel, shampoo and conditioner. And it was Sweet Pea fragrance; her favorite.

She took her time bathing, savoring the warmth of the water, the soothing effect of the rose petals, the taste of the strawberries and chocolate; everything was just intoxicating. After what felt like an eternity, she stepped out of the tub, sorry that she had to leave. She put on the fluffy white bathrobe that hung on the door. Her fingers brushed against something inside one of the pockets and she pulled it out. It was another note.

I take it that you enjoyed your bath. If you did, then I'm very happy. Believe me, I was tempted to stay back and join you, but I'll save our meeting for another time, which will be very soon.

Livia felt a swooping sensation in her stomach.

There's another surprise for you in your bedroom, but I don't want you to go in there yet. Come to the guest room. I have something for you.

She made her way into said room, and more tears fell from her eyes. Laid out on the bed was a beautiful red dress. She held it up against her frame. It was long, and strapless and absolutely gorgeous. There was a card on the bed beside the dress.

A dress fit for a Queen. Do you like it? You wore red the day we first met at work two years ago, and I never forgot how stunning you looked. That day I fell deeply in love with you, and I haven't recovered since. Please. Try it on.

It was the perfect size. The dress was corseted and clung to her curves, spreading out at the bottom. It was very beautiful indeed. She walked over to the full-length mirror and admired herself before reading the rest of the note.

I can only imagine just how amazing you look right now; my Princess, the Queen of my heart. You conquered my heart a long time ago, Liv, and I wish to be at your service for the rest of my life. I want to be the man that will treat you like the Queen that you are, to hold you and kiss you and love you forever.

The journey is slowly coming to an end, my love. Come back downstairs and head to your backyard.

Filled with curiosity, she obeyed, lifting her dress slightly as she descended down the stairs, going through the kitchen and out the back door. She stepped out and gasped.

Another trail of candles and roses was created along her lawn leading to the gazebo outside, which glowed with even more beautiful candles and roses. Overcome with emotion, Livia walked towards the gazebo, and getting to the middle of it another moan of surprise escaped her. There was a new addition to the array of ornaments. Balloons. Pink ones, red ones, white ones; all at the top of the low ceiling, dancing in the light breeze. She turned around slowly, breathing in the invigorating scent of the roses and candles. Hanging from the tail from one of the balloons was yet another red note. She plucked it off the balloon and eagerly opened it.

There you are. Look up, sweetheart. Look at the balloons. Watch how they float, like they are reaching for Heaven. I feel like I'm in Heaven whenever I'm around you. You make me feel high, and I never want to come down. That's the kind of effect you have on me, Princess, and I never get enough of it.

Now, there is one more thing I want you to do for me, my love. Put the card away, and close your eyes.

Her heart began to race. Oh god…

Please trust me, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and listen…I am coming. Listen. Feel me coming to you.

Doing as she was told with the card, she then shut her eyes, releasing a nervous sigh. Seconds later, she heard movement. She could hear someone coming.

Him, no doubt.

She tensed, instinctively holding her breath. She could feel her heart pounding mercilessly in her chest, wracked with nervous anticipation. He was closer now, and his heat radiated off him, giving her much more warmth than the candles could ever give. Livia held back a gasp as she felt him standing directly behind her. Though her eyes were shut tightly, she could almost see him as he circled her, then her face got warmer and she knew he was standing directly in front of her. She could smell his cologne, a familiar scent but she simply couldn’t put her finger on it at the moment. Her knees weakened. God, he hadn't even touched her and she was already feeling heady. Livia trembled slightly as she felt something soft and warm press her forehead, and then the tip of her nose. His lips, for sure. He had just kissed her face. She suddenly found herself wishing those lips were pressed against her own. Then…

"Open your eyes, Princess."

Oh my god. That voice. Her eyes snapped open, then – not for the first time this unbelievable evening – widened in astonishment. "Roman?"

Roman smiled shyly, taking a slight step back and then extending his hand to her, presenting a long-stemmed red rose. "Happy Valentine's Day, Liv," he said, looking into her eyes.

Taking the flower from him, she stared hard at him, as if trying to figure out whether he was an illusion. He looked like he'd just walked out of GQ magazine, wearing a pair of fitting black dress slacks, and a black shirt, his hair pulled back, his dark eyes bright with the love he had declared for her in the wonderful notes.

Roman watched nervously as the love of his life eyed him, tears in her eyes as she clutched the rose in her hands. Clearing his throat, he began to speak. "You must be wondering what's going on. It's just…I know you've been going through a tough time. You've been hurting and I just wanted to do something for you. I wanted to make you smile again, if only for a while."

"Ro…" she said, her voice a stunned whisper as she looked around, "How…how did…" she trailed off as the answer she was searching for suddenly dawned on her. The long day out with Charlotte…the constant stalling at every store by the blonde woman…the text message…

Believe it. Believe him.

Oh god. It had been all about this.

Unnerved by her silence, Roman swallowed hard. "Look, I'm sorry if I offended you. I can clear them all out…it's no big deal-"

But Livia shook her head rapidly, silencing him. Her warm brown eyes searched his for what felt like forever to Roman. He could tell that she wanted to say something else, and his worried eyes remained locked on hers. Then, she dropped her head, letting out a heavy, rattling sigh.

And just like that, the euphoria of the evening began to trickle away, giving way to the pain Livia had tried so hard to suppress for such a long time. Once more, the guilt of what she had done reared its ugly head, like it always did whenever she felt some sense of happiness, no matter how fleeting or momentary. When she looked up again, refusing to meet his eyes, there were fresh tears streaming down her face. "Roman, I…I've done some horrible things, Ro. You can't possibly want me…If you knew, you wouldn’t want me…"

The misery in her voice caused his nerves to dissipate. He cupped her face, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "Livia, I know about your baby."

Those words left her reeling, like she'd been punched in the gut, and Livia struggled for breath. Her eyes swam in a tragic sea of agony, shock, humiliation, fury; betrayal. "Charlotte. Of course."

Roman quickly put his hands up to placate her. "No, no, no, it's not her fault. She wanted to protect you, I swear. I begged her to tell me. I wanted to know exactly what happened that made you so unhappy." His voice lowered to a soft whisper. "So she told me, and it breaks my heart that you had to go through all of that alone."

"I had an abortion, Roman," she spat, her beautiful face a mask of misery. "I murdered my own baby. No matter what I was feeling towards Rick at the time, I should never have taken it out on my child. Now I live with the guilt every day. That's why I don't want to get close to anyone anymore. I lash out without thinking of the consequences. I can't do that to you. It's not fair to you. I deserve to be alone."

"No you don't," Roman insisted. "We all make mistakes and we make decisions we regret every day. It takes time to get over the pain and the hurt, but sweetheart…I wanna help you heal, Liv. I wanna be there for you, to share your laughter and your pain. I want to be everything to you. I'll do anything for you…just say the word and it's done. Here, feel this."

Taking her hand, he pressed it to his chest. Livia couldn't stop the soft cry that escaped her lips. His heart was beating so rapidly, so soundly and proudly. His eyes never left hers. "Feel that?" he said softly, covering her hand with both of his. "This is what you do to me. My heart, my soul; they belong to you. I'm in love with you, Livia, and I’m not perfect either. Whatever happened in your past is never going to change the way I feel about you."

So many different feelings swirled within her at a time, overwhelming her, and she began to cry in earnest. This tragic loss she had suffered had weighed her down for too long. "I thought I could handle it on my own," she said miserably, "I thought I was strong enough to get over this. But I'm not. I'm not. And I just want this pain to go away because it hurts…it hurts so much."

Roman moved closer, kissing the tears that trailed down her left cheek. "Don't cry, baby girl," he whispered, moving his lips to the other cheek. "God, I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry. You don't have to be alone anymore. I'm here now. Let me be strong for you. Let me love you. That's all I ask."

He started to pull away but Livia turned her head before he could, pressing her mouth against his. She was the sweetest thing Roman had ever tasted in his life. He returned the kiss instantly, wrapping his arms around her. Livia sighed into his mouth and hugged him tightly, never wanting to let go.

"Roman…Stay with me tonight." She kissed him then spoke again, their mouths still touching. "Make love to me." She pressed her lips to his once more, almost desperately. "Please, I…I need you."

They kissed again, with even more passion, if that was possible. Livia leaned into him, and Roman scooped her into his arms, carrying back into the house like she was his bride. He gazed lovingly into her eyes, and Livia pressed her forehead against his, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. All this time, and she never knew. They were such good friends…she had no idea that he felt this way about her. But what a way to show her. It felt like a dream. This whole evening felt like a dream.

Roman continued up the stairs and towards her bedroom, the one room he didn't let her open. For the umpteenth time, Livia's eyes widened as she took in the sight before her; the candles, rose petals were scattered all over the bed in a mix of pink and white and red. 

She kept her eyes locked with his as he moved to the bed and laid her in the center, hovering over her. He marveled at her breathtaking beauty; her glowing skin, the way her hair spread out on the bed in a wavy chocolate pool; the way her eyes sparkled with love. Love for him.

None of them moved for a long time, simply gazing into each other’s' eyes. Licking her dry lips, Livia finally spoke. "Ro…I never knew…I didn’t know you felt this way."

"I know, baby. I didn’t do all that much to show it," he said, brushing her hair out of her face. "But it never stopped me from hoping…dreaming…that this day would come."

"And now it has," she said softly, leaning up to brush her lips slowly over the side of his throat, enjoying how he shivered with pleasure at her action. "I want to love you. I want to believe again. Love me, Roman."

"Always," Roman breathed, dipping his head and capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. And on the day of love, seeds were sown of a love that was true and pure and honest, and – if both had their way – would last forever.

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

Please review!

Credit to all the owners of the pictures.

[one-of-us-blog]

The End of Time, Part I (Doctor Who Christmas Special)

Today Jon is forced to watch and recap The End of Time, Part I, the latest Doctor Who Christmas Special and the penultimate special in this little mid-season bacchanal. The universe is being plagued by bad dreams, and the dreams all seem to center on an enemy long thought to be dead. Can the Doctor save the whole of time itself before it’s too late?

Keep reading to find out…

Eli, your “Brotherly Love” recap was just fantastic! Your recaps are getting better and better every time, I swear! I might be biased, though, because this definitely is my favorite episode and I was so thrilled that you enjoyed it! I’ve always felt that all four Girls were on point in this episode; Dorothy is at her wittiest, Blanche is at her flirtiest, Sophia is at her most dangerous and Rose is at her goofiest. All four main actresses stick all of their landings, and Ted held his own pretty well throughout the whole episode. Also, I’m a sucker for a good Hamlet reference. I can’t wait for your next recap, Chief!

Buttocks tight!

Episode directed by Euros Lyn and written by Russell T Davies

We start out with a stirring narration by Timothy Dalton. He explains that in the final days of Earth, specifically around Christmas, the entire human race was having some seriously spooky dreams. Everyone forgets about the dreams they’ve been having in order to keep on living. Everyone, that is, except for one Wilfred Mott! Whatup, Wilf? Wilfred has a flashback of his dream, featuring the face of a distinctly familiar looking guy. Wait a second, was that the Master?

Wilfred decides to repent his wicked ways and heads into a nearby church, where a children’s choir is singing for no one in particular. Wilfred takes in the church’s stained glass window, which features a tiny little TARDIS. A woman suddenly appears behind Wilfred, and explains that the window is depicting the Legend of the Blue Box. The lady explains that in the 1300’s a demon fell from the sky only to be vanquished by the Sainted Physician, a man who appeared in a blue box. The lady speculates that the Sainted Physician might be coming back. Wilfred would like nothing more, but when he turns to face the lady again she’s gone. Wilfred’s ears are filled with the sounds of the Master’s laughter as we head to the opening credits.

The TARDIS lands on the Ood Sphere, where the Doctor’s met by his (and our) old pal Ood Sigma. The Doc’s got a bit of a chip on his shoulder; he’s taken his time getting here, going from planet to planet and even getting married briefly, all to avoid this meeting. Sigma tells him he should not have delayed, but the Doctor points out that the last time he was on the Ood Sphere Ood Sigma said his song would be ending soon, and he’s in no hurry for that. He shows off a new feature and locks the TARDIS remotely (get it? like a car?) before finally following Sigma around. Sigma shows off the thriving society the Ood have built since they were liberated from humanity a century ago. Suddenly the Doc’s a little worried; the Ood are developing way too quickly and there’s no way Ood Sigma should have been able to contact the Doctor all the way back in the 21st century after only a hundred years of development. Sigma says something’s amiss; every night, the Ood have bad dreams. Someone should tell the Ood to cut back on the chocolate before bedtime!

The Doctor is taken to the Elder of the Ood, and is directed to join in a circle of Ood to share the dreams they’ve been having. The Doc gets a vision of the Master, and the Elder Ood says pretty much everyone in the universe is dreaming of him. Next the Ood show a shot of Wilfred, then a man and young woman the Doctor’s never met. Finally he’s shown Lucy Saxon, who’s in prison for killing the Master and avenging the millions of people he had slaughtered in the Year that Never Was. The Doctor’s super sure the Master is dead, until the Ood show him that bit from the end of “Last of the Time Lord” where the Master’s ring falls to the ground. I meant to make a fun Ming the Merciless joke about it at the time, but trying to work it in now just feels weird. Just pretend I stuck the landing on that one, okay? Anyway, the Ood show the Doc that the ring was picked up by an unknown woman. The Doc’s ready to bate that Master, but the Elder Ood says the Master is only part of the problem. Something big and ancient is moving, and the Ood are able to see through time like this because time itself is weakening. The end of time is coming. *mic drop*

The Doc’s off to the races and runs back to the TARDIS. Meanwhile, Lucy Saxon is visited in her prison cell by the woman who picked up the Master’s ring. She’s taken down to the basement of the prison and… well, I mean, this is where things get a little weird. Apparently at some point during the months between the Master showing up on Earth and him becoming Prime Minister, a sort of cult grew up around Harold Saxon. Like, with secret sacred texts and everything. It’s a bit of a Knights Templar 2: Wacky Wizards situation, only a lot less scrutable. If none of this rings a bell, BTW, it’s because it’s coming out of literally nowhere. Anyway, we find out that Lucy was given a secret trial with no jury after she shot Saxon and locked up in the pokey (side note, what the hell? she should have been given a medal, not a prison term!). She never told anyone who Saxon really was. The new governor of the prison is some kind of Grand Wizard for this Harold Saxon fan club, and she’s going to use the Master’s ring to bring him back to life. She and her gal pals mix together some magical potions (made from recipes taken from the Secret Books of Saxon, I shit you not), the Master’s ring and a bit of Lucy’s DNA.

Lucy begs the women to stop, but they’re pretty onboard with sacrificing themselves to bring back the Master. The Master begins to materialize, but it turns out that Lucy also checked the Secret Books of Saxon out from the prison library and some friends outside of prison cooked up an anti-life potion. One of the guards involved in this is actually on Lucy’s side, and she gives Lucy the potion. She had it on her… just in case, I guess? Or she knew this was going to happen and didn’t, like, just try to take the ring before any of this could go down? I don’t know. Lucy has a little monologue, then she throws the potion at the Master and the entire prison explodes. Right on cue the Doc arrives. The guy and young woman (who are father and daughter) that we don’t know yet are reviewing footage of the prison burning down and catch sight of the Master running from the wreckage. The two meet up with some scientists and tell them to prepare a big ol’ alien-looking gate thing.

Wilfred tells an unseen Donna and Sylvia that he’s going out for a drink, then rallies all his friends from the senior citizen center and organizes them into a search party to scour London and locate the Doctor. Some vagrants get some grub from a food truck and have a topical discussion about President Obama. Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone? Anyway, the Master shows up with a bleach blonde hairdo and tells the food truck lady that he’s real hungry. He then hops over to eat a burger really quickly (and super grossly) and harass the vagrants for a bit. His skin is sort of transparent sometimes? I don’t know. Eventually he chases the vagrants over to the burnt-out ruins of the food truck and then maybe eats them? He’s got a bit of a Tarrare thing going on now, so he probably eats them. The Doctor sniffs him out and the two have a brief staring contest before the Doc starts chasing the Master only to lose him when he’s distracted by the sudden appearance of Wilfred. Did I mention the Master can jump really high now for some reason? I don’t think I did, but he can. It’s just a thing, go with it.

Wilfred and the Doctor go out for tea after ditching the Silver Cloak Gang. The Doctor wants to know who or what Wilfred is and how he’s able to keep finding the Doc. Wilfred thinks he’s just your average Joe who gets lucky a lot, but the Doc isn’t so sure. He tells Wilfred that he’s going to die (because of the prophecy thing from “Planet of the Dead”, remember?) and both he and Wilfred are super bummed. The Doc says even if he regenerates it won’t be him anymore, and this version of himself will die. This is interrupted by the unexpected and delightful reappearance of Donna Noble outside; Wilfred begs the Doc to restore her memory, but we’re sticking with the whole “her brain thing will burn up” storyline. Donna’s engaged to a nice guy Shaun Temple and Wilfred thinks she’s happy enough, but sometimes she looks like she’s sad but can’t remember why. Great! Wonderful! Just what Donna deserves, right? Really glad that we’re sticking with this arbitrary plot device!

Anyway, the Doc lets Wilfred know he’s traveling alone now, and that turned out to be a very bad thing. He takes things too far on his own, and he needs someone with him to keep him in check. The two bros have a nice almost-cry and then the Doctor leaves. Timothy Dalton reminds us in another voiceover that the Earth’s going to die tomorrow, then the Doctor catches up with the Master. Did I mention the Master can shoot lightning bolts and shit out of his hands now? It’s just a thing, go with it. He Livewires the Doc and then has his own little monologue about how he used to be a really big deal but now he’s just a homeless lunatic. The Doc’s ready to ask the Master for help to stop this end of time/coming darkness thing, because he’s suddenly a dumbass. The Master starts going on and on about the drums again, but this time he does a mindmeld with the Doc and the Doc actually hears the sound. The Master’s pretty happy that the drums aren’t just him being crazy and, I’ve got to say, I’m pretty ambivalent about the whole thing. A helicopter shows up and the Master is kidnapped while the Doc is knocked out by some paratroopers.

Christmas time! Donna gives Wilfred Fighting the Future by Joshua Naismith, but she’s not really sure why. Naismith’s the guy we haven’t met yet, by the by. While Donna’s trying to figure out why she got Wilfred the books she appears to be dangerously close to remembering how relevant she used to be, but luckily Sylvia’s able to distract her with a naughty holiday card. Speaking of Naismith, he and his daughter have the Master held captive. They know a vague amount about Harold Saxon and the daughter’s pretty excited to have him as their houseguest. Wilfred sits down to watch the Queen’s speech, but that lady from the church is on the TV. Wilfred is the only one who can see her, because he stands at the center of coincidence. She tells Wilfred that the time will come when he’ll have to take up arms, but she tells him not to tell the Doctor about her. Wilfred goes to his room and digs up his old pistol from the war. Oh, shit, is Wilf about to risk it all? No time for that, because the Doc’s outside and he needs to talk to Wilfred.

The Doc can’t figure out how Wilfred fits into all this, but he knows he’s involved. Wilfred doesn’t tell him about the woman on the TV, but he does show the Doc the book Donna gave him. The Doctor figures out the Ood might have been able to seep Naismith into Donna’s subconscious, allowing her to help the Doctor without remembering her kickass past. Wilfred and the Doc set off in the TARDIS to find Naismith. The Master is brought to the alien-lookin’ gate thing, while two of the technicians excuse themselves. Downstairs they reveal themselves to be aliens who are trying to get the gate thing working. They’re cool with the Master working on the gate, because they just want to get it working so they can hijack it. Upstairs Naismith explains that he got the gate after Torchwood 1.0 folded. The Master’s given a turkey and we get to see more delightful sped-up footage of him eating, complete with all the sound effects you could hope for. The gate is powered by a nuclear chamber thing, but it turns out it can restore a person’s body and heal them. Naismith wants to use it to make his daughter immortal. Her name’s Abigail, by the way.

Wilfred and the Doc arrive at Naismith HQ, and the Doctor shows off that he’s now able to hide the TARDIS a second out of sync with reality. The Doctor finds the aliens in human clothing in the basement and quickly de-glamours them. The Master begins fixing the machine and gets it working in record time. The aliens downstairs explain that they’re a salvage team who were sent to collect the gate thingy, which is essentially a giant sickbay. It’s specifically giant because it mends entire planets at once. The Doc figures out the Master’s up to something and runs upstairs, while Naismith watches the speech by Obama that’s been mentioned about 57 times so far. The Doc arrives upstairs but the Master easily breaks free of his bonds and jumps into the gate. His template begins spreading across the entire world, first by appearing in everyone’s minds. The Doctor’s able to get Wilfred into the radiation booth in time to shield him from the effects. The aliens downstairs realize the Master’s set the gate’s template to only effect humans, but then Donna calls Wilfred to let him know she’s not being effected. The mental picture is just the beginning of all this, though, as in a matter of moments the entire human population is physically transformed into copies of the Master.

Donna’s beginning to get flashbacks to her Doctorly adventures, and her head’s already killing her. Time for another Timothy Dalton check-in! He says this is the day the human race ceased to be, but it’s also the day the Time Lords shall return. He’s a Time Lord, and he’s surrounded by a massive chamber full of his fellow Lords and Ladies

The End…?

~~~~~

I’m going to zag here a bit, if no one objects. Unlike previous two-parter episodes, like “The Empty Child” / “The Doctor Dances” or “Human Nature” / “The Family of Blood”, The End of Time is specifically broken into a Part I and a Part II. Because of that, I’m viewing it as one episode that’s just going to take me two posts to finish recapping, and so I’m going to wait until the end of Part II to give my rating of and thoughts on The End of Time as a whole. That was probably an overly complicated explanation, but, hey, it’s twentyserpentine!

We’ll see you again on Tuesday when Eli will cover the next episode of The Golden Girls, “A Visit from Little Sven”, and then on Wednesday I’ll recap the last half of this Doctor Who special, The End of Time, Part II.

Until then, thanks for reading, thanks for resurrecting and thanks for being One of Us!

[castanews530-blog]

One of the first short stories I’ve written...

Does The Coyote Ever Win?

You are like the Sun

With your smile being its rays

Beaming brightly and like a

Thompson Submachine Gun

It rips through my dark clouds

Of sadness and

Makes all my days.

I hope this isn't cheesy

Like a Packer fan at Lambeau field

But I really like you

And I’d like to be your boyfriend.

I gave this poem to my high school crush. The paper, once crisp and fresh from the binder, was crinkled and stained from age. The message however, was still fresh from the heart.

“Hey man, I think I like like a girl,” I confessed to my buddy, Tico, the day before I gave it to her. The lunch bell had rung and people squeezed out of classrooms towards the cafeteria or little food carts that were stationed just outside the cafeteria. People were with their cliques. Jocks in their lettermans howling in laughter over some penis joke, preppy girls covering their mouths in shock over some gossip, and geeks having a debate over whether Batman or Superman was better. We were under a shade of a tree, waiting for the rest of our friends to meet us there. He was tall, yet lanky. He carried a constant look of ogle on his face, as he checked out every female that walked by him. I was a little shorter than him, lean and handsome, although at the time nobody could convince me of this.

He dropped that look and his eyes widened.

“Really?! Who is it,” he demanded to know.

Having never shown much interest in women, he constantly made jokes about my sexual orientation. I was not surprised he was surprised.  

“Well,” I slowly started to sputter, “I-I kinda like Lyd-Lydia.”

“Her!?” he squawked with his jaw agape in confusion. “You’re joking, right?”

“What wrong with her?”

“Everything bro. She doesn’t have an ass or tits.”

“That’s not all a woman is.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Ok, maybe to you, but there’s more to a woman than that. There’s their personality, their character, and how they really make you feel.”

A voluptuous girl passed by and Tico gave her an eyeful. I did too.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I know how she makes me feel and it isn’t hard to figure out even though it’s literally hard.”

“Really? Is that all you think about, asses? Have you ever seen Forrest Gump?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, what Forrest and Jenny had, I want that. That bond they had together. Did you not see the beautiful moments they had together?”

“No, I fell asleep halfway through. It was a hella long movie.”

I gave up. Nobody seemed to be interested in deeper connections to each other. Especially him. The only connection he was concerned about was the one that happens between genitals of the opposite sex.

“Then what’s so special about her? Is she easy?”

“I don’t want her for that. She’s an amazing person, always smiling and bringing cheer to everyone when she high-fives everyone. I just want her to be with me like Jenny was to Forrest.”

“Hey, didn’t the Jenny girl avoid him for most of the movie?”

“I thought you fell asleep through the movie!”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Nevermind that. I have been trying to figure out how to get her to like me.”

“Just ask her out.”

I was stunned. It had been on my mind for awhile.

“I can’t just ask her out. I haven't even talked to her besides saying hi and goodbye. I gotta talk to her first, right?”

“Just ask her out.”

“That’s it? That’s all I have to do? She’ll be my girlfriend if I just ask her?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I don’t know, don’t I have to do something cool, like be good at some sport or be really smart that I can teach the class, or if ninjas came to kidnap her, I’d use some hidden kung fu ability in me to kick their asses, save her and ride off into the sunset?”

“You don’t even have a car.”

“That’s not the point, but still. All I have to do is ask her?”

“Hmm, if you don’t believe me then why don’t you write her a love letter.”

“Really? That works?”

“Yeah, I think it will. Girls like honesty or some shit like that.”

It started to make sense. It was perfect. I was a pretty good writer, even though I had never written any kind of poem before. If I could masterfully use my words to show her my feelings, then she’ll be by my side the moment she finished reading my passionate and romantic poem.

Later that evening I immediately went to my room. At my desk, littered with old papers and doodles, I searched my bag for a pen and some binder paper. The old stuff on my desk was cleared and expecting to start pumping out my amorous epic, I stared into the paper.  

My little brother then knocked on the door.

“Hey, that movie you like is on TNT!” he informed me.

“Which one?” I responded still staring at the paper.

‘The one about a guy named Harry and how he met Sally.” He answered.

“Oh, I think I’m gonna skip it for tonight.”

“Really?” he voiced with an air of bewilderment, “You always watch those cheesy movies! Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m ok. Leave me alone.”

“Can I play the PS3 then?”

“Go for it.”

Suddenly animated, he ran to the living room.

Finally I convinced myself that whatever comes from my mind will be honest and true so without fear, I wrote nonstop for 30 minutes.

After 30 minutes, I told myself: She is gonna love it.

“Bro, she is gonna hate it .” I said the next day.

“Nah, man she’ll like it.” He was reading it and giggling.

“Then why are you laughing bro?”

“Nah man, you’re good. It’s fine. Make sure you give it to her.”

Lydia hasn't come in yet and I had to make a move. I made up my mind.

“Bro I don't think I can do this.” I said as I started to put the letter away in my backpack. Tico then abruptly reached in and snatched it.

“ I’ll do it.” he said as he rushed to Lydia’s desk.

“No! Wait!”

He left it on her her desk and when he got back to his respective seat, he gave me a double thumbs up.

“Hey!!!!” a shrill and feminine voice squealed out. Lydia had walked in. My face suddenly filled with the cold air of anxiety.

With black hair that she kept in a bun, she had soft hazel eyes, with a tranquil look. But her mouth was brimming with a smile as she greeted everyone joyfully. Her petite skinny frame walked around the class, making her rounds to say hi to everyone. She approached me and with that clarion voice, semi screamed out, “Wiley!!! What’s up!!!?”

“Um…. hi.” I managed to mumble out as I timidly smiled back. She smiled back and walked on to her desk while saluting the classmates on her way there.

As Lydia walked over to her desk, my face went from cold to hot as it sweltered up. I foresaw all the scnenarios that could occur. Maybe she will read it and smile at me across the room. Maybe she’ll read it and look at it in disgust. Maybe some sweet savior was gonna pull the fire alarm as a prank and as everyone would leave the room, I would snatch the letter and rip it up.

Lydia spotted the letter when she got to her desk. She put down her bags, picked up the letter and started reading it as she sat down with a serious look on her face. I could not bear to look at her reaction, so I just scoped on the teacher for the rest of class, never looking at Lydia’s direction.

When class finally ended, I was already out the door and free from a blundering disaster.

“Hey, Wiley!” a shrill voice resonated in the hall before students started to fill it. .

I stopped and looked back. Lydia stood there with the poem in her hand. She had a stoic stare.

“Hey, uh, Lydia.” I stammered out. I slowly walked towards her. I briefly looked at her eyes then away in angst towards the floor. Then I looked at her again.

“I read your letter,” she told me, looking at my eyes. Her face was not enthusiastic nor was it disgusted.

“Oh yeah? Um,....what… what did y-y-you think?” My heart was beating as if it was trying to get out of my chest like some Alien creature. That would have been preferable.

She took her time to find her words and with a fresh smile, she chimed, “Well, Wiley it was very nice!”

I saw hope.

“But I don’t really think of you that way. I really appreciate the letter, though.”

The hope was stomped on.. I was done. I had to transfer to another school. Another county. Another state. Mars was a possibility.

“Oh yeah, I mean,” I jittered, “that’s fine. I-I-I….,” Words could not leave my mouth. Visibly trembling, I looked up and took a breath.

“ ...had to try, you know,” I blabbered off as I turned and ran away. I could never face her again.

I spent the next 3 years in self-imposed exile. I spent my lunches in the band room where it was desolate of people, save for a few people practicing their instruments. I never talked to Tico again, since he was responsible suggesting and giving that poem to Lydia. I didn’t hang out with anyone. My evenings were filled with homework and early 90’s Tom Hanks romcoms. I still yearned for my Jenny, my someone to meet on top of the Empire State Building. But the fear of bungling another attempt to talk to a girl crippled me, until prom season came around.

Everywhere I went on campus, someone was asking someone else to prom. Some guy was able to get an extra large pizza with PROM? written on it with pepperoni. Another guy wrote it on his car. One guy simply got on top of the roof and screamed it out. I admired all these efforts in envy. I had to get a prom date. So as I went through one school day, I scouted for a girl I can like.

In one of my classes, I was sitting in my desk, browsing at all the females in my class. I was too afraid to make any move.

Suddenly a tap on the shoulder broke my concentration, and I turned around.

“Can I like, borrow a piece of paper?” said Liz, my classmate behind me. She had black hair with streaks of blonde. Chubby yet buxom, I found her sexually attractive, but she put on an overkill of make up. Her lips were bright red and her blush made her skin look like pastel. She also had a reputation of being easy, as I remember Tico telling me three years ago. But I decided to take the plunge.

“Um… yeah… sure, hold on, let me get it,” I suddenly said, “So… how’s your day going?”

“OK.” she guilelessly replied.

“That’s good.” I responded. “It’s pretty hot out there, huh.”

“I'm actually cold.”

“Oh really?” I nodded my head in search of a different topic, “You know… I’m wondering if you would… you know, like come with me….. um I mean…. if you would like to…. you know… get…. some… coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I was astonished. I had finally gotten a girl to go get coffee with me!

“Ok, great…. um let’s go to that one Starbucks near the grocery store?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s cool.” she answered back.

“Alright then, see you then.” and turned back around. The class was barely starting.

Later that evening, I was waiting at a table outside the Starbucks with two frappucinos. I had asked her if she liked frappucinos, and she simply replied with “yea”.  A car pulled up and Liz exited it. She saw me and walked towards me.

“Hi” she said.

“Uh, hey,” I replied awkwardly at first, then quickly flashing the smile I had practiced in front of a mirror the night before. She smiled back and sat down. On a roll here.

“So I got you a caramel frappucino,” I told her, pushing the beverage towards her on the table, “I didn’t know if you liked whipped cream or not, but I thought that if you didn’t want whipped cream you could have mine which I ordered without whipped cream. Is that cool?”

“I don’t care.” she quaintly said.

“Oh ok, then I’ll take the whipped cream one. Unless you want it I mean, it’s totally cool if you want it.”

“It’s ok”

“Ok, then it’s settled.” and I took a sip of the beverage, while looking away from Liz.

“So what are you doing after you graduate?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, I see. Do you like, want to go somewhere?”

“Not really.”

“Mmm, that’s cool. Say have you got a prom date?”

“No.”

“Oh that’s interesting.”

“Yeah.”

I took another sip of my drink, and kept sipping for 10 minutes in silence.

“So I have to go,” Liz then said, “My mom only brought me here so she can shop and she’s done.”

“Oh that’s cool,” I said, then as she was about to get off from her seat, I hurriedly added in, “but-but hey maybe we could a movie on Friday?”

“Sure.”

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

Friday finally came, and I had decided to ask Liz to prom. Originally, I was going to get the movie theater to print out a ticket that said, Will you be my prom date? Unfortunately the employees  could not figure out how to work the machine so I decided to draw my own ticket and have her find it somehow.

With the fake movie ticket on hand, I waited for Liz outside the theater. A drove up and Liz exited it. Said our hi’s and went to the box office to get our tickets.

Once inside the auditorium, we sat on the right side with all the lover seats of two. We were armed with popcorn and drinks. I was still trying to figure out how to indirectly give her the ticket. She was constantly grabbing and eating her popcorn. So when she was not looking, I slipped the ticket in the popcorn bucket and stared at the movie screen. I surveilled her from the side of my vision, waiting for her to find the ticket, smile and say yes.

Thirty minutes have passed and she was still munching away at her popcorn, but she was starting to slow down. I was starting to get restless.

Suddenly, I hear a gasp and then a puking sound. I looked over and she was choking. I got up and I tried to stand her up. She stood up but fell to the littered ground, gasping for any air. I tried to do what I thought was CPR. I put my hands on her chest and she looked at me like a pervert. I pushed down and she moved my hands away in suffering anger. Finally someone else jumped in and did it correctly. She coughed out a piece of paper. It was my movie ticket.

At the beginning of the last week of school, for some reason I decided to get there really early. At five in the morning I set off to school, with the sun barely beginning to rise. This caused the sky to look purplish, as if night and day were mixed together. I walked through the chill suburb, and crossed the main streets that were starting to grow alive with people going to their jobs, truckers leaving after shipping in the night and bums starting to wake up from the bus benches.

The school was empty at this hour. The sun faced the bench and glimmers of it were slowly hit it. I took off my glasses and put them on my lap. A pretty girl then approached me, and asked me for directions to a classroom. I promptly got up and showed her where it was. She thanked me and I went back to the bench, proud of the good deed.

I sat down and took a book from my backpack. Then realized that I did not have my glasses. I inspected the bench and they were not there. I figured that I must have accidently put them in my locker, so I went over to my locker and tossed it around in search of my glasses. I gave up and went back to the bench blind.  

I noticed a person sitting on the bench as I walked over. It appeared to be a girl. I could not recognize her because of my Velma vision. Part of me wanted to go get my stuff and go somewhere else. But determined to learn how to talk to girls once and for all, I decided to engage her. I will make friends with this girl. It was my mission and I was going to accomplish it. It was Lydia.

“Lydia?” I astoundedly asked. Oh shit. Abort! Abort!!!! My mind rang out.

“Wiley!” she shrilled in delight.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked.

“Well, my mom has work early in the morning and she’s using my car so I have to come to school at this hour.”

I chuckled, “This is funny. I never expected to see you at this hour.I never expected to see you at all!”

“Yeah, me neither!” she said. “Where are your glasses?”

“Oh, yeah, funny story. I think I lost them helping out a cute girl.” I said with a sly grin on my face.

Immediately she burst out laughing.

“That’s so funny. You are so clumsy Wiley.”

“I guess I am,” I chuckled.

As the sun began to rise and fully beam the bench as we engaged in deep conversation about what we had been up to.

We went to a Starbucks later that day. It was close to a supermarket, and the shoppers coming out were interesting looking characters. We made up stories about them. Middle aged guy with a shaggy beard was probably in Vietnam and if he talked to you, he would show you all his gun permits, tell you what he thought about Woodstock and go on a profanity laced rant about it even though you did not ask for it. A big lady wearing a nightgown with a cart full of cat litter. Most likely a crazy cat lady. Dude wearing a tight dress shirt, untucked, with slim jeans and dark shades even though it wasn’t even sunny, so he was most likely a axe spraying, womanizing douche. It beat looking at clouds.

She talked about how she loved golf, how she loved being a babysitter, and how close she was to her former middle school teachers. She was going to attend the same college as one of them.

I told her about my desires to help people too. How I wanted to be a lawyer and hopefully run for office. I admitted that I had my anxiety but I was willing to work on it.

For lunch the next day, we went to McDonalds. Lydia had her car so we would go through the drive thru. I’d order two McChickens and she would order a Happy Meal.

But we would also order twenty piece McNuggets for us both and eat them while she drove. I was the sauce man, holding the sauce for us both, while she, with one hand on the wheel, recklessly drove as she dipped and ate her nuggets. We were the fast food Bonnie and Clyde.

On a different night, we were eating at Panera Bread and I was enjoying my cheddar broccoli soup so much that I took the unfinished bowl with me without thinking when we left.

“Oh my god, Wiley!” She told me when we got in the car. “Did you just steal a bowl?”

“Oh Jesus, I did,” I said finally realizing what I did. “But it was so good!”

She stared at me with serious look, “Oh Wiley! You are going to get me in trouble! I am your accomplice!”

Oh no, not again.  This can’t be happening again.

She then broke her stare and busted out in laughter, “Oh, Wiley you are so clumsy and badass!”

Oh thank you, sweet baby Jesus.

“Yeah, so that means you are just as bad ass as me since you are my accomplice!” I responded back, with a brimming smile.

“ Um, excuse me? I was already badass, ok?” he mockingly said, “Have you seen Pulp Fiction?”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty awesome movie!”

“Well, you know what Samuel Jackson has inscribed on his wallet?”

“Yeah, bad ass motherfucker,” I laughed.

“That is what we are! Bad ass motherfuckers! We are BAMFs!”

I burst out laughing because I could not believe that such words would come out of someone so nice and respectful.

High school ended and we were both shipping out of town for college. I was bound for UCLA, while she was heading off to an all girl school in Missouri. On the last day before she was to leave, we hung out at the Starbucks.

When she drove into my driveway to drop me off, I looked at her with a serious look.

“You know, this last week with you was awesome, especially because of you.” I said. “You are really the best friend anyone can have. You cheer me up with that smile, and make me laugh.”

She looked at me, and then smiled with tears starting to develop.

“Wiley, I want you to know that you are an awesome guy, and you have been so important in my life, but I am just not about dating or things like that. And also we are young, and heading off in different directions. We have to expand our horizons and meet new people.”

I looked her and smiled, with tears starting to develop in my own eyes. “Ok, I understand. I really appreciate you being my BAMF.”

And with that we hugged tightly in the car.

“I gotta give it to you though,” she said after letting go of me. “That was better than that letter.”

“Hey, now, you told me you liked it!” I joked. And with that, we said our goodbyes and off she was to Missouri.

I found the poem in her belongings up in the attic. She had the Panera bowl. Pictures of us that she took. A wave of reminiscence washed through me. After sixty years of being together, 50 of those years married and with four kids, I realized I didn’t find my Jenny. Jenny was hardly together with Forrest. I found my Lydia. I may not have had the smoothest record with women, but nobody ever takes the same exact path to get to where they are going or to get what they want. Every path is unique, just like my Lydia.

I left the poem next to her when she was buried. Although I may be sad now, I know I’ll see her again. She came back into my life that last week of school. She came back after college to be with me and get married. By now, I know it’s not a coincidence.

[aswadwrites41-blog]

Funny Quotes

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Funny Quotes

Experiencing issues and depression is inevitable in existence. Sometimes, Funny Quotes can help up loosen up a piece. Here we’ve got gathered Funny Quotes and sayings which can help you be happier and help you sense higher. Here’s a group of funny quotes and humorous mind to tickle your funny bone. As you try your nice to juggle with paintings, children, family, housework, friends, pastimes and a zillion of other stuff, allow a number of those funny quotations and from time to time silly quotes loosen up you and bring some lightheartedness into your day. If you want to laugh louder and you are searching for funny Quotes then don’t worry we are here for you. we are providing the best collection of Funny Quotes. Hope, You will Enjoy.

Funny Quotes

Funny Quotes For Fun

My bed is a magical place where I suddenly remember everything I forgot to do.

I and my bed are perfect for each other, but my alarm clock keeps trying to break us up.

I changed my password everywhere to ‘incorrect.’ That way when I forget it, it always reminds me, ‘Your password is incorrect.’

Seeing a spider in my room isn’t scary. It’s scary when it disappears.

At night, I can’t fall asleep. In the morning, I can’t get up.

If I won the award for laziness, I would send somebody to pick it up for me.

Don’t know where your kids are in the house? Turn off the internet and they’ll show up quickly.

The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.

A good speech should be like a woman’s skirt: long enough to cover the subject and short enough to create interest.

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Education is what remains after one has forgotten everything he learned in school.

When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That’s relativity.

A lot of people ask me if I were shipwrecked, and could only have one book, what would it be? I always say ‘How to Build a Boat.’

There was a time when people said, ‘Jim if you keep on making faces, your face will freeze like that.’ Now they just say, ‘Pay him!’

Gravitation can not be held responsible for people falling in love.

I’d like to live like a poor man – only with lots of money.

The worst thing I can be is the same as everybody else. I hate that.

Short Funny Quotes

A great social success is a pretty girl who plays her cards as carefully as if she were plain. – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Not being beautiful was the true blessing. Not being beautiful forced me to develop my inner resources. The pretty girl has a handicap to overcome. – Golda Meir

Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart. – Kahlil Gibran

Just because something is beautiful doesn’t mean it’s good. – Alex Flinn

Beauty isn’t about having a pretty face. It’s about having a pretty mind, a pretty heart, & a pretty soul. – unknown

It has been said that a pretty face is a passport. But it’s not, it’s a visa, and it runs out fast. – Julie Burchill

Often a noble face hides filthy ways. – Euripides

The faces that have charmed us the most escape us the soonest.

Never steal. The government hates competition.

Smile…It confuses people..!!

Everybody wishes they could go to heaven but no one wants to die.

Why are they called apartments if they are all stuck together?

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An apple a day keeps the doctor away, But if the doctor is cute forget the fruit.

Practice makes perfect but then nobody is perfect so what’s the point of practicing?

I want to kill the hottest person alive… But suicide is a crime!

Don’t knock on death’s door. Hit the doorbell and run. He hates that.

Short Funny Quotes

Save paper, don’t do home work.

Life is Short – Talk Fast!

Save water and shower together.

It is easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.

I couldn’t repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.

I’m not a complete idiot. Some pieces are missing.

Adults are just kids with money.

Funny Quotes About Life And Love

If I had a rose for every time I thought of you, I’d walk through an endless garden of roses.

You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

A good woman inspires a man, a brilliant woman interests him, a beautiful woman fascinates him, but a sympathetic woman gets him.

Life is like flying an airplane. You’ll be pushed around, have your ups, downs and even upside downs, but try hard enough and you’ll land where your heart desires.

If the path is beautiful, let us not question where it leads.

All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.

There is a place you can touch a woman that will drive her crazy – her heart.

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When you fish for love, bait with your heart, not your brain.

Love is the only two player game in which both players can win.

Love at first sight is possible, but it pays to take a second look.

Do butterflies feel humans in their stomach when they’re in love?

Funny Quotes About Life And Love

I’ll flirt with you every day.

Love is like jumping out of an airplane knowing that someone else has packed your chute. You pull the cord hoping that a canopy opens up, but it could very well be packed full of dirty laundry and a half-eaten cheese sandwich.

The most effective way to remember your wife’s birthday is to forget it once.

The bravest thing that men do is love women.

Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.

The sincerest love is the love of food.

Funny Quotes About School

“Education can get you the only thing that really matters in today’s world — an assigned parking space.” — Gene Perret

“In school, you’re taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you’re given a test that teaches you a lesson.” — Tom Bodett

“It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows.” — Epictetus

“No wonder the teacher knows so much; she has the book.” — Edgar Watson Howe

“Some students drink at the fountain of knowledge. Others just gargle.” — E.C. McKenzie

“Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance.” — Will Durant

“People learn something every day, and a lot of times it’s that what they learned the day before was wrong.” — Bill Vaughan

“Education helps you earn more. But not many schoolteachers can prove it.” — E. C. McKenzie

 “Work hard, nap hard.” — Demi Lovato

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Funny Quotes About School

“The human brain is special. It starts working as soon as you get up and it doesn’t stop until you get to school.” — Milton Berle

“Nothing grieves a child more than to study the wrong lesson and learn something he wasn’t suppose to.” — E.C. McKenzie

If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers.  –Edgar W. Howe

I go to school, but I never learn what I want to know.  –Bill Watterson

The most important thing we learn at school is the fact that the most important things can’t be learned at school.  –Haruki Murakami

“When a teacher calls a boy by his entire name, it means trouble.” — Mark Twain

“If people did not do silly things, nothing intelligent would ever get done.” — Ludwig Wittgenstein

“Education costs money, but then so does ignorance.” — Claus Moser

Funny Quotes About Friends

A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked. –Bernard Meltzer

Friends and good manners will carry you where money won’t go. -Margaret Walker

There are three faithful friends, an old wife, an old dog, and ready money. –Benjamin Franklin

We are best friends. Always remember that if you fall , I will pick you up… after I finish laughing. -Unknown

You don’t lose friends because real friends can never be lost. You lose people masquerading as friends and you’re better for it.  –Mandy Hale

When you’re in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, ‘Damn, that was fun.’ –Groucho Marx

Friendship must be built on a solid foundation of alcohol, sarcasm, inappropriateness and shenanigans. -Unknown

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Funny Quotes About Friends

If you have friends who are as weird as you, then you have everything. -Unknown

I’d take a bullet for you. Not in the head. But like in the leg or something. -Unknown

Real friends don’t get offended when you insult them. They smile and call you something even more offensive. -Unknown

Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down. -Oprah Winfrey

Best friend: the one that you can mad only for a short period of time because you have important stuff to tell them. -Unknown

A good friend is a connection to life — a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.  –Lois Wyse

Short Funny Quotes About Life

How’s your health?’ ‘It’s enough for life!’

Life always turns out not as you want but as it should be.

Death takes away the best people. It means that I will live long and long.

It would be nice to live as everyone else, but my conscience wouldn’t let me.

A simple rule to follow in your life: do your best and let God do the rest.

If the music is too loud – most probably you’re too old.

I do very bad things, and I do them extremely well.

Life belongs to optimists. Pessimists are just viewers.

Life is so short to ruin it for everyone.

Shit happens, just flush it down and move on.

Some days I just don’t have enough middle fingers to go around…

I’m not offended by all the dumb-blonde jokes because I know that I’m not dumb. I also know

I’m not blonde. – Dolly Parton

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Short Funny Quotes About Life

Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea. – Robert A. Heinlein

There is no elevator to success – you have to take the stairs.

It’s Friday today and all I have planned for tonight is drinking and drinking. Oh and, did I mention drinking?

The older you get, the better you get, unless you are a banana.

Constant change is here to stay.

Marriages are made in heaven. But so again, are thunder and lightning.

I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally. – W. C. Fields

A good lawyer knows the law; a clever one takes the judge to lunch.

The biggest critics of my books are the people who never read them. – Jackie Collins

Man invented language to satisfy his deep need to complain. – Lily Tomlin

Funny Quotes About Life In General

You can’t have everything. Where would you put it? – Steven Wright

~ Born to be wild – live to outgrow it. – Lao Tzu

~For most men, life is a search for the proper Manila envelope in which to get themselves filed. – Clifton Fadiman

~Life is just one damned thing after another. – Elbert Hubbard

~After one look at this planet, any visitor from outer space would say, “I WANT TO SEE THE MANAGER!” – William S. Burroughs

Life doesn’t imitate art, it imitates bad television. – Woody Allen

~ Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. – William Shakespeare

~ Nothing is as frustrating as arguing with someone who knows what he’s talking about. – Sam Ewing

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Funny Quotes About Life In General

~I think I’ve discovered the secret of life – you just hang around until you get used to it. – Charles Schulz

We never really grow up. We just learn how to act in public. – Bryan White

~ Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life. – George Bernard Shaw

~ Evening news is where they begin with ‘Good evening’, and then proceed to tell you why it isn’t. – Author unknown

~ If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something. – Steven Wright

“An inordinate passion for pleasure is the secret to remaining young.” – Oscar Wilde

“One day, you will wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted. Do it now.” – Paulo Coelho

“Disobedience is the true foundation of liberty. The obedient must be slaves.” – Henry David Thoreau

“You cannot control how you feel, but you can always choose how you act.” – Mel Robbins

“If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s.” – C.G. Jung

Funny Quotes About Life Lessons

Sometimes the most ordinary things could be made extraordinary, simply by doing them with the right people.–Elizabeth Green

You’ve got to invest in the world, you’ve got to read, you’ve got to go to art galleries, you’ve got to find out the names of plants. You’ve got to start to love the world and know about the whole genius of the human race. We’re amazing people.–Vivienne Westwood

Life isn’t fair. A fair’s a place where you eat corn dogs and ride the ferris wheel.–Jennifer Brown

You’ll need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. Airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else, a living breathing screaming invitation to believe better things.–Jamie Tworkowski

You have to believe in yourself. That’s the secret.–Charlie Chaplin“

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Funny Quotes About Life Lessons

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. –Henry David Thoreau

Never chase love, affection, or attention. However, if it isn’t given freely by another person, it isn’t worth having.–Unknown“

Sometimes rejection in life is really redirection.–Tavis Smiley

How we spend our days is how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour and with that one, is what we are doing. –Annie Dillard“

Nothing will ruin your twenties more than thinking you should already have your life together.–Unknown

Time decides who you meet in life, your heart decides who you want in your life, and your behavior decides who stays in your life.–Ziad K. Abdelnour “

Embrace the glorious mess that you are.–Elizabeth Gilbert

The coolest thing is when you don’t care about being cool.–Rick Owens

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