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scumbags II

Summary:

Jonathan and Sara: it's hard to make a fairytale last fifteen years.

Notes:

well, fascinating news, also noted on my anenglishwolf account! In further developments of my experience of #fandom, I am now in receipt of Twitter-threats of plagiarism on my TheBadLibrarian Twitter account. How simply par for the course! Plagiarism via feeding my work through an AI meatgrinder, and then this drooling fanscummer/fanscummers taking credit for it as they disseminate ‘their’ horrid shit-coated ‘creation’.

Dear old #fandom! Always disgusting, never surprising! I expect the simply vile disgustopigs feel they have not had their boots licked and arses kissed sufficiently, and are therefore completely justified in attempting to destroy someone’s life.

Narc-turds of #fandom ahoy!! There's classy, peeps: vulnerable autistic adult, already forced out of #fandom, having had an interesting impersonaturd experience, and now threatened with AI plagiarism. Nice, huh?

ETA: well, well, well! and here was I, thinking that threats of plagiarism were as stinkybulging nasty and downright disgusting as fandom could possibly get! Sadly - but not surprisingly - I was wrong! Now I have at least one libelshitty fanporker trying to paint me as a paedophile. No, not shittin' ya! The delicate irony of the sitch being, of course, that [name redacted] has some genuinely creepy pervturdery amongst its early 'work'... Projectionpervporkers of #fandom, check 'em out!

Oh, how? Grounds? Well, settle in and grab a cuppa. I'm having CBT therapy for OCD. ... What? Well, ain't that enough? do the math, kiddies: I have OCD. I have to check the old homestead out re: security, safety, risk assessments etc. like it's the Franklin Mint before I leave, and worry about it when I'm out. andddd... A symptom, for some folk, of OCD, is 'intrusive thoughts'. e.g. you might suddenly think how easy it would be to murder someone. Or feel an urge, crossing a bridge, to jump off it. Or you might - some folk do - have a sudden panicked thought that you might be a pedo - irrespective of any evidence for that. As it happens, I don't have that symptom. It wouldn't make me a kiddy-interferer if I did: it just so happens that I don't.

But what does that matter to a projectingperv crimporker of fandom, bent on destruction and hate? Ignore the facts: snoop the email, hack the private info, work the narc tactics, send in the enablers and destroy, destroy, destroy...

 

Re: the title -- based on the fact that, if you take the love-goggles off while watching Serendipity, Jonathan and Sara are both absolute cheating scumbags with no consideration for others. What you do, if you really feel you have to break off an engagement/cancel a wedding, is either do it as early as possible, giving plenty of time for cancelling expensive things like venues and flowers et cetera, and for delicate tender feelings to heal. Or alternatively -- if it's too late for that -- you wait until after the wedding, leaving at least a few weeks or months in between, to make the whole thing less humiliating for someone you once claimed to love.

Save the poor sod's face, for God's sake. Standing someone up at the altar is surely one of the nastiest scummiest things a body can do.

Chapter Text

A family cabin in Oregon is an amazing place for a family vacation.  Unless your marriage is falling apart, and then it’s just the same hell on earth as anywhere else would be.

But Jonathan’s trying: he’s promised himself, and he’s promised their couples therapist, and most of all he’s promised Dean.  He’s trying: he’s really trying.

(Dean’s a bit fragile, after his third divorce.  He hangs onto Jonathan and Sara’s fairytale as proof of the existence of love in the world.  He can’t let Dean down.)

Note: that’s his first, deepest, most profound feeling on the matter.  Not, he can’t let Sara down.

...yeah.

 

And hence, their first family vacation in about two and a half years.  There’s always been some excuse –- a deadline, a client having a breakdown, too fragile to leave.

You do what you want, really, though, on the whole.  Everyone does.

Sara’s cancelled all her appointments.  He’s cajoled his agent into putting his latest deadline on hold.

And now, they tumble three kids out of the cross-country Volvo, the best, sweetest fruit of fifteen years of marriage.

Great.  More people he can’t let down.

Chapter 2: I was tired of my lady: we'd been together too long

Notes:

Chapter title is from Escape (The Pina Colada Song) by Rupert Holmes.

Chapter Text

It doesn't help that he’s carrying a secret with him.  It’s consuming his mind, even as he shepherds the kids into the cabin’s TV room, and settles them down with juice-boxes and crackers, while he and Sara unpack.

Sara asks him if there’s anything wrong.  She comments on how quiet he’s been, the whole drive.

But Jonathan tells her he’s fine, just decompressing, that’s all.  He kisses her cheek, and pours her a glass of wine, and offers to cook.

It’s not as if he can tell her that he’s been talking to Halley, recently.

The first time, just bumping into her on the street, outside his therapist's office.

The other four times, not so accidental, no, not at all.

Chapter Text

It's not like she wasn't always hot.  She was always gloriously hot - that wasn't ever the issue, no, not at all.

Chapter Text

And Jonathan knows perfectly well it would have been better to say something straight away, that first time he actually backed into Halley while maneuvering skiing gear out of his shrink's office building, ready for a boys' weekend with Dean.

It would have been better.  Yes.  But not half so exciting, lacking that shudder of newness, of memory.  Of bad behavior.

He's got a template to follow - he can't even claim he hasn't had Sara model how to deal with this.  It's been a good seven years since Lars first got back in touch, and now they're all good buddies.  The idiot even brings his latest girlfriend for weekends in the city with them, long Sunday mornings with brunches and wandering round farmers' markets.

If only he didn't usually bring his latest recordings, too.

 

Chapter Text

(Sometimes J thinks back to the magic of their early days - and even before that, the magical mystery and strangeness of how they lost and found each other, after years of restless dreams.  How can they ever recapture that feeling? ...  How did they lose it?  Sometimes he wonders if the entire charm wasn't about losing each other in the first place.  Who's as magical as the lost princess you can never track down, lost in the forest, caged in a tower?  Training as a psychotherapist and getting engaged to a dire Swede-jazzrocker, on the other side of the country?)

If he hadn't lost that phone number... he does wonder, sometimes - oh, it's so disloyal - if they'd have dated, and lost interest, and broken up within a month.

If he'd be married to Halley anyway, now.

 

Chapter 6: tarryhootin' round the house last night

Notes:

Chapter title is James Thurber.

Chapter Text

First night at the cabin, the kids can't get to sleep - too excited and too much upheaval, after a long journey.  (Bats in the outhouse!  An oppossum making its home in the laundry room!  They'd forgotten to bring chargers!)

Jonathan is up and down half a dozen times, trying to settle them down, reading stories, being a good dad and a soothing influence.

Once they've finally dropped off - after three in the morning - he can't sleep either.  He lies in the dark, and thinks about getting  up and making coffee, because at this point, fuck it.

He lies in the dark, listening to the birds waking up and stirring outside, and grinds his teeth.

Sara sleeps beside him, like a baby.  The stranger beside him, walking hand in hand with him through life this past fifteen years.

That doesn't help.

Chapter Text

He thinks about Halley - he tries not to, but he does.

But when he finally sleeps, he dreams about Sara.

Chapter Text

The dreams are disturbing - perhaps more so because they don't actually feature Sara, as such.  This time - every time - they hark back to that Lost Time, the years when they had briefly encountered each other, and each gone on their merry way.

And if his subconscious regards these as the precious lost halcyon days, then what the fuck is wrong with him?

Chapter Text

Perhaps dreams are magical.

In any case, he wakes in the morning, and Sara isn't there.  Nor is the Oregon cabin.

He's back in his apartment - his old apartment.  The one before Sara, and even before Halley.

Chapter Text

He thinks he's dreaming at first, of course.  And he's quite chuffed by it.  Lucid dreaming isn't a thing he's ever mastered, and he might as well enjoy it while it lasts, eh?

He's a good hour into breakfast, and wandering nostalgically round his old stamping ground, examining the prehistoric technology (Gamecube!  mp3 player!  cable TV!) before he begins to feel real unease.

It doesn't stop him lounging on the sofa and watching a few of the CSI and Everybody Loves Raymond episodes he's got backed up on TiVo.  (TiVo!)  (Everybody Loves Raymond! ...  Maybe he doesn't deserve Sara.)

Chapter Text

Things are definitely... odd, though.  Sure, things seem pretty real in a dream, or maybe you just never think to examine them too closely.

But things are just too real, all around him.

And anyway.  He's seen Sliding Doors, and Freaky Friday, and Inception.  He's seen Groundhog Day.

(He's got Groundhog Day on the TiVo.)

He's just too culturally informed and cine-literate not to be aware of what's going on.

Or at least, to be suspicious.

Chapter Text

Maybe he should call someone: maybe that would shake things up, make him wake up, break the dream apart into a few broken fragments of illusion.

Maybe he should try calling Lisa Bonet, or the Notorious B.I.G.  And when they take his call, because they're his best buds, that'll do the trick.

He's prowling around the apartment, now: more suspicious, more tentative, than his first blithe romp.

And, holy hell.

He's got a landline.

Chapter Text

Anyhow, he succumbs to temptation.  He makes the call.  Of course.

Chapter Text

He calls Dean.

Chapter Text

He can't honestly say that it's Dean's fault that he doesn't understand a word that Jonathan's talking about.

Or that he assumes Jonathan's absolutely rat-assed drunk.