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brewsterispunkk · 1 year

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sunshine state

PART ELEVEN: PAPER RINGS

pairing: benny miller x reader, benny miller x f!reader

WC: 3.6k

summary: things are revealed, a resolution is met.

warnings: abuse (physical, emotional), angry benny, idiots in love, they finally communicate

A/N: here it is. the last chapter. only the epilogue after this. I love you if you’ve stuck around this long.

PART ELEVEN: PAPER RINGS

The ride home was uneventful, blessedly. But, more than that, it was normal.

:readmore:

Normal, as in, it was as if the outburst you’d had the night before never happened. As if Benny hadn’t practically told you he’d be there come hell or high water. As if the whole trip hadn’t happened and you were back to being just friends—no strings attached, no baggage.

And you finally felt like you could breathe.

He made fun of your music taste, and you played backseat driver. He pretended to be annoyed at your feet on the dash and you pretended not to know that he was full of shit.

You were back to your old dance—casual touches and loaded words.

It was as if nothing happened. And, though it was more nerve-wracking than before, it was better than revealing your emotions and losing him.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

- - -

The knock came a week later.

It’s been a week of torture on your part.

You’d finally had enough time to begin to process all that had happened between you and Benny at you parents’ house and in the days before, and you were nowhere near the end of understanding it all.

What you did know was this: You were in love with Benny.

He’d swirled into your life like a loud, blond tornado and you dreaded the day that he left, and the rubble he’d leave in his wake.

You’d gone back to work, inevitably, and when you weren’t dealing with obnoxious children on field trips to the museum, you were thinking about him.

What he was doing, what he was thinking, how he was feeling—it was like that past weeks had flipped a switch in your mind, and all you could think about was Benny.

And what was even more frustrating, Benny continued on as if nothing had changed. Which, you supposed, nothing had.

You wondered how long it would take for things to disintegrate.

Your answer came in a knock on Benny’s apartment door near midnight.

It was movie night—the first one since you and Benny slept together—and it was your turn to choose. You’d made it about a quarter of the way through Evil Dead when the knock caused you to jump.

“Jesus!” Benny jumped beside you.

It had been at a quiet part in the film, and you were both at the edge of your seat.

“Are you expecting somebody?” You asked confusedly.

You couldn’t imagine who it could be; Frankie and Mari had the baby, and Santi and Everett were on a weekend getaway.

“No,” Benny furrowed his eyebrows and stood up. “Who the hell could that be?”

You turned to face the door from where you were sitting on the couch as Benny made his was over tentatively.

“Ben,” you called, standing up as well and walking to the coat closet. “You want the bat?”

It was better to be safe than sorry in your book.

Benny nodded, and you reached to the back corener of the closet where you knew Benny kept the beat-up, metal baseball bat.

“Here,” you said.

Benny grabbed it and approached the door, peeking through the keyhole. He stilled, before sighing.

“Jesus,” he sighed, before opening the door. “The hell are you doing here, man?”

It was Will.

Will, with his hair messier than you’d ever seen it. Will, with a trashbag slung over his shoulder. Will, with his hoodie soaked through with rain from the December downpour outside. Will, with his eyes bloodshot. Will, with a cut above his eyebrow. Will, with a red cheek and a dark bruise forming around his eye.

You stopped in your tracks, and you saw as Benny’s shoulders stiffen as he took his older brother in.

“Shit, Will.” His voice was soft as he barrelled toward his brother, wrapping him in his arms.

One of Benny’s hands snaked to the back of Will’s head and the other wrapped around his middle. Will sniffed, before shuddering and practically collapsing into his little brother’s arms.

Benny pulled him inside and kicked the door shut behind him.

“It’s okay,” he said into Will’s shoulder. “It’s okay, man. You’re safe.”

Will sobbed into Benny’s shoulder and dropped the trash bag at his feet. He clutched at Benny’s shoulders.

“Shh, shh.” Benny looked at you worriedly over Will’s shoulder. “Let it out, just breathe man.”

You grabbed Will’s bag to set it on the kitchen counter, before making your way to the kettle and turning it on. Blessedly, Benny still had the lavender tea that Will liked in his coffee-drawer.

Benny led Will over to the couch.

“C’mon, man. Sit down, catch your breath.”

Will slumped on the couch, his head in his hands and cried.

It was sobering for you. Not because he was a man crying—you couldn’t give less of a shit about that—but because it was Will crying.

He’d always been a fortress, a mystery, a brick wall. The only times you’d seen Will’s armor crack was that night at Frankie’s.

Now, the armor wasn’t cracked, it was gone. And you felt your heart break. All the hurt and pain and anger that you still held for him faded away once you saw him there.

Benny sat down next to him and put his hand on Will’s trembling shoulder and rubbed up and down as he wept.

“It’s okay, It’s okay,” he cooed. “You’re safe. You’re safe, man.”

“I’m sorry,” Will’s voice was gravelly, like he’d been yelling or crying or both.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize. Take it easy.”

You had never seen Benny more careful, more calm. Like he was trying to talk down a spooked horse.

“I just,” Will said, before taking a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was more level. “She kicked me out. I didn’t know where to go.”

“She kicked you out?” Benny asked, voice soft and wary.

“Yeah.” Will swallowed.

“And did she give you that bruise on your eye too?” Benny’s voice was careful.

Will nodded.

“I’ll kill her,” you said, and Benny’s head snapped to you.

“Not if I get to her first,” he added.

Will half-laughed and shook his head before letting his head drop to his hands again.

“Yeah, I,” his voice was strained. “I’m not goin’ back. I’m done. I’m just done.”

“Okay,” Benny said resolutely. “Okay. You can stay here. Or, if you’d be more comfortable somewhere else, we can talk to Fish or—”

“Jesus, Ben. You’re my brother.” Will shook his head, teary eyes turning to Benny.

“Yeah, well.”

“Ben, I’m so sorry,” Will’s voice warbled so much that you yourself teared up. “I just—I don’t know what I was thinking. I was in so deep and she was so angry and—”

“Will, you don’t have to—”

“I never should have said that,” Will continued, sniffing. “I should have never,” he stopped himself before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said with a level voice.

“I forgive you, man.” Benny said, hugging his brother.

“I’m sorry, smalls.” Will looked to you over Benny’s shoulder.

You smiled at him through watery eyes.

“It’s okay, Will. Water under the bridge.”

A part of you beamed at the nickname. He hadn’t called you that in months, hell he hadn’t called you anything in months.

A different part of you was validated at the reveal of Anna’s abuse. You’d always wondered; Will’s sheepishness, aloofness—it added up now. Your heart clenched as you wondered how long it had been going on. As far as you knew, Will and Anna had been together for years. How long had he been treated like this?

“It’s not,” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean it. If anything, I was projecting.”

You sighed.

“Will. It’s over, I forgive you.”

He nodded and opened his mouth to continue, but a sharp hiss cut him off. Behind you, in the kitchen, steam rushed out of the kettle.

“Here, I made tea.” You said, rushing to the cup you prepared.

You poured two cups, knowing Benny hates tea, and walked over to the couch, steaming tea in either hand.

You handed Will his tea and sat down on the chair beside the couch with your own.

“Will,” Benny said after a moment of silence. “How long has this been going on?”

Will swallowed, looking down at his tea.

“Uhm,” he ground out. “I don’t exactly know.”

You’d never seen him more uncomfortable. His shoulders were tense and he wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Has she hit you before?”

Will flinched at Benny's wording.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Never so severely, though. She slapped me a couple months ago and that was the first time.”

“Okay…” you leaned forward. “And did it escalate from there?”

“‘Course it did,” Benny interrupted. “Been around military men enough to know how this goes.”

“Ben,” you interrupted him softly.

His tone was impatient. Upset. You understood the sentiment—you were upset too—but addressing it so callously was something Will didn’t need.

“Sorry,” he said, before turning to Will, who was sipping his tea. He looked more relaxed already.

“When did it get worse?”

“Uh,” Will sighed. “About a month ago she threw a punch at me. I blocked it easily, but, uhm. You don’t always see that coming, yaknow?”

His voice sounded small again.

“Then?” Benny pushed gently.

You knew he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you needed to get the full story. You needed to know if he wanted to press charges. Still, it may have been too much at once.

“We don’t have to do this now, Will,” you said. “We can talk in the morning.”

“No, it’s fine,” he sniffed and sat up a bit straighter. “Let’s just get it over with.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Then what happened.”

“She started throwing things. Plates, cups, a few knives. She pushed me a few times.”

“Did she tell you not to talk to us?” Benny asked flatly, emotionlessly.

You didn’t like the darkness in his tone.

“Yeah,” Will leaned forward on his knees. “Said she’d leave me if I did. Or if I went back to the VA.”

Benny swore under his breath.

“What happened tonight?” You asked. Will sighed.

“She threw a bottle. Hit me in the temple, by my eye.”

“Jesus,” Benny said. “Was this before or after she slapped you?”

“After.” Will’s voice was small.

Benny stood up suddenly, standing in front of Will.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?” He burst, voice louder than it should’ve been. It was teeming with anger.

“Benny!” You scolded him.

“No!” He turned to you. “Why didn’t you tell me?! I’m your brother!”

“Exactly!” Will stood up now, toe-to-toe with his brother. “The hell did you want me to do?”

“Talk to me!” Benny threw his arms up. “We’re blood!”

“How the hell could I come to you with that?!” Will shook his head.

“With words!” Benny’s voice was edging on frantic. “I’ve been right here! This whole time! You should have told me!”

“Ben!”

You interrupted, jumping up and grabbing his arm. He was getting too worked up. You didn’t need a repeat of the last time the Miller brothers had an argument.

“You need to calm down or walk away,” you said, voice even.

Benny held eyes with Will before turning to you. He was stewing. You could see it in his eyes. You raised an eyebrow, annoyed. You would not be dealing with Benny Miller’s antics tonight.

“Okay?”

Benny huffed.

“I need a drink.”

As he walked over to the fridge for a beer, you rubbed your eyes. Then, Will snorted.

“Exactly,” he mumbled.

“What?” Benny asked from the kitchen, sipping his beer.

“You had her, Ben. That’s why.”

You stopped in your tracks.

What?

“The hell do you mean, I had her?” Benny’s eyes were wide and incredulous.

“You had her. You were happy, Ben. Finally. I wasn’t about to get in the way of that.”

“Fucking Christ! You could never get in the way of my happiness!” Benny burst, voice strained.

He looked like he was about to cry, the emotions were so clear on his face. It was Benny’s best and worst trait—he wore his emotions on his sleeve.

“Besides,” he lamely added. “Nothing ever comes before you. Next time, when you need me, call me. I’ll be there.”

“Yeah right,” Will chuckled. “I didn’t want my issues coming between you and your lady.”

“My—Will,” Benny sighed. “She’s my best friend. That’s it.”

Your heart dropped, and all of a sudden you felt like you were intruding. Like this conversation wasn’t meant for your ears. You sunk into your chair.

“Okay, Ben.” Will rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly. “Sure, she is. I just–I’d like to go to bed. I’m dead on my feet and I don’t want to fight with you.”

Benny sighed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re right.”

There was a moment of silence before Will sighed.

“C’mere,” he reached out and embraced Benny.

Benny relaxed into the hug, burying his head into Will’s shoulder as if he were a child again. When he pulled back, he patted Will’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about bringing you into this,” Will said. “Both of you.”

You shook your head, still stung by what Benny said, but even more so: at a loss for words at what Will had just told you.

“Shut up, man.” Benny said. “If you ever pull shit like that again, I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Will chuckled. “I got the couch.”

“Nah, man. Take the bed.”

“No—”

“I won’t be sleeping tonight anyway.” Benny said, eyeing the rain outside.

A look of realization crossed Will's face.

“Thanks, man. I—just, thanks.”

“Go sleep, asshole.” Benny said with affection. “You can shower too, if you want.”

“Okay.”

As Will went back to the bedroom, you and Benny were left in silence.

He threw his head back against the back of the couch and sighed.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you added. “Do you think he’ll press charges?”

“I don’t know,” Benny sounded tired. “Knowing him, he’ll want to bury it. Pretend it never happened.”

“We can’t let him.”

“I know,” Benny nodded. “He wouldn’t survive it. I’ll take him to the VA in the morning. We’ll figure it out from there.”

You nodded.

You looked at your phone, searching for the time.

1:30, it read.

You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. The storm outside was still raging, and this was no summer rain—this was torrential, and freezing. You shivered just thinking about walking the block and a half back to your own apartment. Still, sitting in silence with Benny like this was torture.

You felt useless. You wanted to tell him so much, and now was neither the time nor the place.

Besides, this was a family issue, and you didn’t want to fuck it up like you had in the first place.

You felt like you’d caused this problem, you didn’t need to add to it.

“I think I should head out.” You broke the silence.

“You sure?” Benny’s head snapped to you before looking out the window. “It’s pretty bad out there.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I don’t need to be in your hair.”

“You're not–”

“You’ve got your brother. I don’t wanna complicate it.”

You didn’t look at him, but you could hear the confusion in his voice when he spoke next.

“Okay,” he sounded unsure. “At least let me drive you, though. It’s raining cats and dogs.”

You nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and reached for your bag.

As you heard his keys jingle on the way out, you wondered if this would be your last time leaving his apartment.

- - - -

He insisted on walking you up—no matter how many times you told him it was unnecessary.

“But what if you slip and fall?” was his first excuse. “What if there’s some creep in the stairwell?” was his second. Eventually, you relented.

You twisted the key into the lock and sighed.

Finally, you thought.

You could lick your wounds in the peace and privacy of your own home and not have to worry about his big, green eyes scrutinizing you as you did.

“Okay,” you said as you turned the knob. “No creeps or slips. I’m fine. You’re good to go.”

Benny looked at you seriously, all previous joking gone from his face.

“I actually, uh,” he sighed. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet.

Here it comes, you thought.

You nodded numbly.

“Uh, okay,” you said. “Come in.”

You beelined for the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine from a bottle you’d opened the night before, nearly missing an excited Salem in the process.

“Want a glass?”

“No, that’s okay,” he said, following behind you.

You took a gulp before turning to him, begging your nerves to quiet themselves.

“So…” you began. “Is this about your brother?”

“Uh, yeah.” Benny said, voice gravelly. “Kind of.”

You braced yourself. Here it was, the final blow.

“Okay.”

“He was right.” Benny said, looking at you earnestly. Your brows furrowed.

“What?”

“What he said,” Benny paused. “About me. I had you, and,” he paused, “and I wasn’t there for him.”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s not about you, honey. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“Ben, you couldn’t have possibly known–”

“You don’t know that, though.” He looked more sad than anything. “None of us ever will, because I was too preoccupied to notice what was happening to my own brother.”

“New friend-friendships can do that to a person,” you offered, stuttering on the word ‘friend.’

“I don’t want to be your friend!” The volume of his voice made you jump, and your lower back hit the kitchen counter.

Your eyes widened at the admission.

“I want to be so much more than that.”

You were silent for a moment as you searched his face for any hint of a joke. You found none, only his anxious face, green eyes open wide in anticipation.

“But,” you stuttered. “You said–you said we were just friends.”

“Honey,” Benny sounded exasperated.

“No!” You burst. “You-you said we were just friends, that you were just doing me a favor! You–”

“What?”

“Benny, you gave me all the signals that said you didn’t want anything—”

“Like hell I did.” He shook his head.

His hands went to your shoulders, then up to either side of your face. His face matched his voice: he sounded like he was losing resolve, holding himself back from something.

“All I do is want,” he pressed his face closer to yours, his eyes pleading. “God, honey.”

“You wouldn’t let me touch you,” you pressed, voice growing smaller as you saw his desperation.

“What are you–”

“At my parents’. After you–after we–you wouldn’t let me touch you, Ben.”

“I didn’t wanna get greedy.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “If I’d started with you, honey. God, I’d never be able to quit.”

You breathed out a sigh, finally melting into him.

Your arms went around his middle, your forehead falling somewhere on his neck.

“Oh my god, Benny,” you breathed. “This is not how I thought this conversation was gonna go.”

“What do ya mean, honeybee?” he asked, arms coming around you and swaying slightly.

“Thought you were gonna end it. Let me down gently. Finally realized it’s not worth it.”

You felt Benny shake his head, before he pulled back, hands on either side of your neck.

“Funny,” he said. “I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing about you for months.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. Benny’s eyes roamed up and down your face, eyes fond and unencumbered.

Your eyes held each other, for the first time, with no preconceived notions or masks. You were here, finally acknowledging what you’d been dancing around for months.

An errant thought made you start.

“So,” you began softly, not wanting to break the moment just yet. “What is this going to mean for us?”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean–are we going to continue like we’ve been? Is this gonna be friends with benefits, or–”

His lips pressing into yours cut you off. The suddenness of it made you gasp, and Benny took advantage of that, pressing the kiss deeper. His palm grabbed your face, man-handling it to tilt up toward him. His other arm snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against his front.

You kissed him back, and he sighed into the kiss.

No matter how many times he kissed you, it felt like the first time. When Benny kissed, he kissed with his whole body—his mouth, his hands, his chest, his voice—you were addicted. You would never grow tired of kissing him, you were sure.

When he pulled away, he sighed and pressed wet, long kisses to either of your cheeks, then your eyelids.

“There will be no ‘friends with benefits,’” he said with more conviction than you’d ever heard in his voice.

“I’m gonna take you out. Then, I’m gonna take you out again. I’m gonna get you flowers and bring you breakfast in bed and make you laugh and I’m gonna be around so much you’ll be sick of me.”

Your breath left your lungs and you looked at him with wide eyes.

“And some day, I’m gonna marry you.”

You laughed, half from joy, half from how serious he sounded.

“Hey,” he fake-chastised. “Our marriage is nothing to joke about.”

You just threw your head back and laughed.

“At least take me out to dinner first,” you smiled.

“How does Tuesday night sound?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, eyeing his lips again. “Pick me up around seven?”

“It’s a date.” He said, lips finally pressing to yours.

#benny miller #sunshine state: paper rings #sunshine state #benny miller x y/n #benny miller imagine #benny miller x you #benny miller x reader #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #benny miller fanfic #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

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lunarmoonanons · 1 month

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Dragon Sisters

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN finally goes out to the gardens in her colourful outfits. Wanting to spend the day with her dearest sister

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

It was always a treat to see the Targaryen princesses in their colourful and elaborate outfits. YN liked to dress up in her lovely outfits for her sister’s amusement. She had taken a respite from her colourful outfits since the death of her dear sister Daella, having worn black for a year. In the bright year of 84 AC, YN retired her black dresses for her colourful dresses once again. Her friend, Coren Thorne, had been a comfort to her and had finally convinced her to allow herself to feel happy once again.

So on a bright warm springtime morning, YN finished her letter to Coren and asked for her maid to bring her light purple dress, one that flowed ever so gently in the wind and embroidered with butterflies in the skirt. She gave her letter to her maid, asking that it be delivered to her friend, then finally left her room preparing for the gazes of the court.

She left quite the impression on the people in the keep who had grown used to seeing the mournful princess. YN paid them no mind, occasionally acknowledging the compliments that were given to her, but she intended to go to the gardens and find her mother or sister there. She knew her happy visage would make Saera happy. But before she was there she came across her dearest older sister Alyssa. She was in riding gear, which made YN smile at her sister’s antics. Even now, as heavily pregnant as she was, Alyssa would go flying. Alyssa smiled at her favorite sister, and opened her arms for YN to run into.

“My dear baby sister. It’s so good to see you in colours again.” Alyssa laughed and kissed the top of YN’s silver hair.

“You should be taking care of yourself. What would the Maester say if he knew you were flying so late into your pregnancy.” YN teased and pulled back.

“He would be too scared to dare speak against me.” Alyssa laughed. “Where are you going my dearest?”

“I wanted to go into the garden and find Saera, or mother. I think seeing me in colours again would make them happy.”

Alyssa wrapped one arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Then let’s go and find them.”

YN smiled and rested her head against her sister’s shoulder. She always knew Alyssa would be there for her. When it wasn’t her and Saera, it was her and Alyssa. The two were so close. YN loved her older sister Alyssa so dearly, she had been her protector, her confidant, her dearest sibling. She knew that if she told Alyssa about her and Saera’s deep love for each other then Alyssa would understand.

But she didn’t tell her. Saera knew the world better and knew no one could be promised with the knowledge of their relationship. So she made YN swear to not speak of their stolen kisses and their daring romance.

So as the two made their way to the gardens. Speaking about their mornings and how YN was getting along with her friend and penpal, Coren. Alyssa spoke about her dear sons, and how she was certain the babe in her belly was another boy. YN was very interested in her nephews and always asked about them when she could.

When they finally found their way to the garden, Alyssa and YN looked around for their mother or sister. YN stopped by one of the flowers that bloomed recently and plucked it from its root and twirled it between her delicate fingers. She knew she would give it to her sister, Viserra. Alyssa steered YN away and then walked till they heard slightly raised and angry voices. When they came across the source, Alyssa rolled her eyes at the sight of Saera arguing with their mother.

“I can associate with whomever I want to mother! It’s not your business nor is it father’s what i do with my time!” Saera snapped and threw her hands in the air.

“I have every right to know who you spend time with and what you do! I am your mother!” Alysanne argued.

“You spend all your time with Gael and Viserra! Let them occupy your concern rather than me!” Saera turned away and stopped her angry expression when she saw her dearest love YN in colours again.

“Oh my dear one. How lovely you look.” Alysanne smiled and walked toward her daughters. Kissing Alyssa on the cheek then wrapping YN in a tight hug. “I’m so happy to see you so happy.”

“Thank you mother.” YN whispered and kissed her cheek.

“I must away. Viserra promised to show me her embroidery.” Alysanne excused herself. Alyssa, not wanting to speak to Saera, having not the best relationship with her, decided to leave with her mother and hugged YN for a moment before turning away.

YN walked toward Saera who had turned away from them and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked defeated and upset at everything, wanting nothing more than to be in YN’s arms.

“Saera?... Would you like this flower I plucked for you?” YN asked. What she was really saying was would she like to be held. Only her and Saera understood that.

“Oh YN.” Saera sobbed and held her close.”I hate them. I hate how they are always disappointed in me. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.”

YN sighed and held her close then pulled away to look in her eyes. “I’m not disappointed in you. You could never disappoint me. I love you.”

Saera wiped her eyes and rested her forehead against YN’s. “I just wish they were more like you. I could be happy with only you. My dear one.”

They both smiled at each other, before Saera brought her lips to YN’s and gave her a loving kiss. YN knew she was still very upset, but when they were together they could pretend it was only the two of them in the world. YN could always understand Saera better than the rest of her family.

“Would you like to spend the day together?” YN asked as she placed the flower behind Saera’s ear. Twirling the locks of Saera’s silver hair.

“I would love to.”

So they ran to their secluded part of the garden that very few would go to. The spot that looked over the blackwater. Only going out to order the servants to bring them food and drink. For a day the two could pretend it was only the two of them in the whole world.

#house targaryen #yandere targaryen #yandere targaryens #saera targaryen x reader #saera targaryen #saera #targaryens #alyssa targaryen #good queen alysanne #The Singing Dragon

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panelshowsource · 3 months

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yes on the 28th!! i'm excited because ALISON HAMMOND!!! every day i'm like whyyy do we not have her on more panel shows she is everything!

victoria spoke about it on her episode of taskmaster the podcast :)

all i know is she's been looking fly as ever — like always! but if she's changing things up a lil then good for her 😌

i would like to anon but they didn't rly have that many moments together on the show, like of substance that make a good gifset 😩 i did do these two! do you have another moment in mind?

omg YES LMAO

richard is so hilariously subtly shady, i love when someone makes the most wrong guess ever (usually during tablet games like the rich list and i'm terrible at dating) and richard does a very obvious scoff-chuckle and goes "yeah? [raises eyebrows knowingly] well [stifled laughter] you never know! let's see if that's right [stifled laughter]" like it just cracks me up — because somehow he's not smug at all despite being mr big brains and someone who teases others a lot

one thing i love about hog is how much richard loves hog — like, that's his baby, he loves doing that show, and he is so obviously having the most fun every single week, which makes it even more fun for us imo!

wow great question!

i have a lot of nostalgic love for comedy world cup — i love david tennant, he's so affable and very funny and a lovely host, and i think that format had legs even if it didn't make it in the end. also from around that time i remember liking mad mad world on itv, which was suddenly cancelled mid run? with paddy mcguinness, rhys darby, rufus hound... —

sorry to digress for a second but remember on some recent podcast ep when sam campbell was like "what's rufus hound up to" and i think it was ed gamble who laughed his ass off lmaooo i feel like there's rufus hound tea out there but idk what it is. anyways

— ...i would love to check it out again but i can't find it! i'll work on that 🤔 then, of course, you have been watching hosted by charlie brooker. it would not have been as strong a format if it wasn't for charlie writing the show and clearly having many topics & rants he wanted to go in for, but i loved that series and saw quite a few comedians/personalities, including vcm, josie long, holly walsh, and peter serafinowicz, there for the first time :')

looks like i had a lil trip down memory lane!

i think it's great! i'm not crazy about dylan llewellyn — i am not super into derry girls, and i felt, at times, his acting was lesser than the others' in a distracting way? is that just me? — but it hardly ruined the show or anything. the cast has GREAT chemistry and jon pointing is a standout (though he doesn't pass for his 20s at all lmao), and i love seeing izuka hoyle who i loved in boiling point and is so(!) gorgeous. tv comedy lives and dies on its editing, and big boys really understands its structure and its beats. i'd also say it strikes a rare balance in its absurdity and its sincerity, which is some of my favourite ever kind of film & tv. god, i just love sad boi comedy. or sad anything. i'm a "let's watch this and cry🤩" kind of person no matter my mood LOL

btw did you see victoria coren mitchell also loved big boys?

sure anon i put it on google drive here :)

i'm not going to host this one but you can request it here and someone will definitely have it to share with you asap! sorry for the inconvenience but lmk if you have any questions :)

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PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

#a #whiteberryx

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tired-of-being-nice · 16 days

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baby milo and coren because i was having a rough day today and needed it. look at them! so small! so happy! so unaware of any bad things that might happen in future!

picrew

#oc: coren #oc: milo #story: tadikm #:)#picrews

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ingek73 · 1 year

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Out with the Sussexes, in with the Parker Bowleses. Revenge is sweet for Charles and Camilla

Catherine Bennett

The royal wrath has seen Harry and Meghan evicted from their Windsor cottage, but never mind, there are plenty of spares

Sun 5 Mar 2023 07.00 GMT

The much hoped-for new edition of Spare must be writing itself. “‘Darling boy,’ Pa said. “This is a section 21 notice. You’re being evicted. Your attack on my darling wife was unconscionable. The new tenant, Prince Andrew, wishes to keep the copper bath.’”

Given the wealth of new material and the potentially liberating impact of Charles’s revenge, an entirely new book, Spare 2: Exiled, would probably be a better commercial decision for Random House once Harry has finished promoting volume one. The same week his family’s eviction from Windsor was revealed, he was preparing for an online session with physician Gabor Maté on “personal healing” and telling a US interviewer that he’d like to be reincarnated as an elephant.

Prior to that transformation, there’s not only the royal reaction to Spare to unpack, along with his humiliations at the late queen’s funeral, but, promisingly, all the stuff omitted from the memoir, thanks to what seems to have been some hope of reconciliation. “There are some things that have happened, especially between me and my brother, and to some extent between me and my father, that I just don’t want the world to know,” he told the Telegraph. “Because I don’t think they would ever forgive me.”

But to judge by various retaliatory acts, there is not much forgiveness to forfeit. The eviction from a cottage he was allocated by the queen and its offer to a generally reviled uncle being only one indication that Harry’s exclusion is expected to be permanent and as mortifying to him as the stars of this dynastic drama can make it. Subtle, his avenging enemies are not. Harry doesn’t mind about missing the coronation? How does he feel, then, about being replaced in the public’s affections by Tom Parker Bowles? Yes, Camilla’s son, the author of Fortnum & Mason’s. An author in his own right. The Gods are just! Maybe Harry should have thought about that before he insulted the house of Parker Bowles?

It’s only a line or two in Spare but Camilla was unlikely to forget this bit: “She began,” Harry writes, “to play the long game, a campaign aimed at marriage and eventually the crown.” Favourable Camilla stories began to appear that could only, he says, have come from her: “And the leaking had obviously been abetted by the new spin doctor Camilla had talked Pa into hiring.”

The favourable press continues to this day with a vastly enjoyable Times article exploring a question on many of our minds: “Tom Parker Bowles: the Firm’s new secret weapon?” No less an authority than the Times columnist Giles Coren was happy to confirm, last week, that his friend, the suddenly priceless Fortnum asset, is a credit to his mother: “She must be a great mum because of who he is.”

But our royal bogof – acquire one Parker Bowles, get another one free – does not stop there. The queen, as more dutiful publications are already calling Camilla, might be above actually slaying anyone, but she’s evidently keen to promote her blood descendants while Harry’s babies, rightfully inheriting his doom, live to rue the day he disrespected her. In comparison, the vengeance inflicted by a ruthless queen mother on the unfortunate nanny-memoirist, Crawfie, was mild in not featuring eviction and a substitute favourite.

The plan is reportedly for Camilla’s five grandchildren to join Prince George in the coronation entertainment, fulfilling roles previously performed by duchesses, their solemn task being to hold a canopy over Camilla while she is anointed with holy oil. The Sunday Times said the refreshed ritual would send a message to subjects that Camilla and Charles “reflect the reality of modern life”. “Blended”. Not unlike Agrippina, Nero and Claudius in AD49.

Where an average unhappy family might struggle to communicate, they ensure difficult relations are publicly snubbed

Assuming modern is how the public also views the descendants of the former Silver Stick in Waiting, their multitudinous appearance could yet be problematic for King Charles in fattening up a royal family he has forever said he wants “slimmed down”. More pressing, of course, is the difficulty he has pointlessly created for himself in the approach to the coronation, in choosing the permanent proximity of his unspeakable brother in Windsor Great Park over that, rarely, of the troublesome Sussexes and their children.

Could he not wait three months to demonstrate that he considers criticism of Camilla, the queen consort, a worse offence than his brother hanging out with Jeffrey Epstein; that a whiny book is more embarrassing for his family than its connection with Andrew’s rumoured £12m settlement – despite his denials – of Virginia Giuffre’s sex abuse accusations? (To be fair, some prominent media supporters clearly share his assessment.)

Charles could hardly, anyway, object to the Sussexes’ Frogmore Cottage being largely vacant. Not after personally collecting property including Highgrove, the Castle of Mey, Birkhall, a Welsh farmhouse, a Romanian ditto, a Scilly Isles base and Dumfries House, on top of accommodation in Clarence House, Windsor Castle, Sandringham, Balmoral and Buckingham Palace. Any of which – although perhaps innocent Romanians should be spared – would be a less compromising place permanently to store Andrew.

Still, the king and Camilla deserve some credit for offering so early in his reign the Windsors’ traditional act of service: a sign to subjects that there’s always a palace-based family more fucked up than their own. A contented couple in their 70s can’t handle the not very astonishing fact that the bereaved Harry resented the rival Diana had called “the Rottweiler”.

They can’t resist fuelling this conflict, at the risk of overshadowing their own coronations and, in making it permanent, of losing two grandchildren. Where an average unhappy family might struggle to communicate, they ensure difficult relations are publicly snubbed, replacement dependants promoted. They can’t even recognise that their revenge could hardly be, from a commercial perspective, a more timely and generous gift. .

#prince harry #king charles lll #camilla parker bowles #spare #abolish the monarchy #king charles the cruel

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