it's all over now, baby blue.

showrunner + executive producer for your mom's favorite tv show. . native ohioan, adopted new yorker, trapped in los angeles. . "there is nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

[bookmania]

“Try to see the past as a room separate from the one you live in now. You can go in there, but you don’t live there anymore.”

— Richard Templar, The Rules of Life

[kristina100000]

anyways i only allow sweethearts into my life. sweeties only

[firstfullmoon]

Luther Hughes, from “It Is February,” in A Shiver in the Leaves

[disgustinggf]

need to be held for a whole week straight

[glennlester]

alfiecohen​:

Things were beginning to take a turn and Alfie would be lying if he didn’t anticipate this might happen. Maybe he should have spent more time figuring out exactly how to approach this for the first time; maybe he should have gotten some advice or thought more carefully about his words. But they were already this deep in and Alfie could feel Glenn shutting down. His heart sinks the moment Glenn steps away from him and verbalizes the one word Alfie was too in denial to attribute to him: alcoholic. “I didn’t say you were an alcoholic, did I? You said that,” he quips, immediately overwhelmed with regret. Alfie’s eyes dart to the floor for a moment as he tries to plan out his next steps but Glenn’s words interrupt his thought process and begin to stir another brash reaction from him. 

“You keep defending yourself by putting words in my mouth and it kind of feels like you’re projecting a little right now,” he delivers with vigor. He thinks about how this night could end one of two ways: he is able to get through to Glenn and they can talk this out or their frustration gets the best of both of them and Alfie ends up sleeping on the pullout couch. The more he thinks about it, the less he is willing to let this go. Not because he wants to have the last word or get Glenn to admit he does in fact have a problem, but because he has hope this could be the first step to him seeking the help he needs. Alfie knows his odds are not great. “Glenn, what do you think would happen if you just didn’t drink for one night? Do you think you would evaporate into thin air?” he folds his arms over his chest and already he can feel the tears welling up in his eyes but he fights it. “Do you think you can go to bed sober? Just answer that question. Can you?”

.

Glenn does his best not to appear distressed, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to stifle the panic rising in the back of his throat. This is a conversation he’s had before, and not one he ever cared to have again, but here they were. He hadn’t worried about it before because he’d figured if Max couldn’t love him, then nobody could - until Alfie. But now everything was coming full circle, and it was getting harder every day to run away from the truth. “Yeah, you got another term for someone who drinks too much?” He doesn’t mince words. And he wants another shot (or seven) to dull the sting of this conversation so badly, he could scream. But Alfie’s right, as much as he hates to admit it: he is projecting. “Come on, Alfie, don’t act like that’s not what you were implying. Whether you said the word or not. I’m not an idiot.” His words tumble out venomously, and he has to stop himself from going further. Fucking prick, he thinks. Why are you trying to ruin this? I love you.

When Alfie demands (tearfully, and it doesn’t go unnoticed) to know if he could go to bed sober, Glenn wishes he could disappear. He’s frozen in place for a moment, alternating between screaming or storming out or breaking his hand trying to put a hole in the wall. Instead, he returns to the liquor cabinet, grabs the whiskey, and takes a swig straight from the bottle. He feels instantly guilty when he looks back and remembers the tears in Alfie’s eyes. “I don’t think you want to hear my honest answer to that,” he says quietly, savoring the burn in his throat from the alcohol. “Because my honest answer is that sometimes it’s either I drink, or I drive my car off the bridge.” It comes out harsh, like he’s blaming Alfie for it, so he tries to soften his voice and think of any way to salvage this evening. “Okay, look, I know…” he searches for the right words, “I know it seems bad, but I’m… I’m fine. I’m doing better than I was. And that’s because of you, Alfie. It’s all because of you. I love you.” He’s being so sincere he worries his teeth might break from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw. He releases just in time to feel the prick of tears behind his own eyes. “Please, just… let’s just talk about this some other time. Please.”

[glennlester]

alfiecohen​:

I don’t usually have that on me, he tells him. Alfie wasn’t born yesterday. When Glenn says they don’t have to drink tonight, a sense of relief washes over him for a brief time but soon, his mind is off again. Maybe a little too much this time. So, he puts the whiskey and tequila away but what happens after Alfie goes to sleep? What if he steps away to the bathroom for a minute or two? Alfie quickly dismisses the thoughts and he realizes he’s been quiet for quite some time when he’s given permission to browse Tinder for weed. “Right, Tinder. I guess that always works,” his tone is halfhearted and he has an hunch Glenn will read right through him. He was supposed to play this cool and not ruffle any feathers broaching the subject but now Alfie feels he’s done just the opposite. He gathers himself and prepares for something that could backfire horribly.

“I–“ he starts and the nerves start to take the wheel. It certainly doesn’t help that Glenn’s mouth is now on his neck and just the way he likes too. Alfie holds his breath and then the impulse strikes. “Glenn, I don’t want all of our time spent together to be us fucked up together. Or you fucked up. Do you…does that make sense?” he is grasping for straws. As soon as the words leave his lips, he’s kicking himself for not handling it with more tact. But nevertheless, he stands his ground. “Is it a problem that I’m asking that of you? Yes or no?” 

.

Glenn can sense an even greater shift in Alfie’s demeanor, and for the first time in their relationship, he’s not sure what to do with him. He wants to smoke weed yet he seems dejected at the prospect of going on Tinder to find it, which Glenn can’t understand either. Even as he lays a trail of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone, he can feel how tense Alfie is in his arms, and it makes him anxious. He pulls back to study the younger man’s face, finding it just as morose as the sound of his voice. It’s happening again, he thinks. You thought you’d be able to avoid it, but you can’t. You can’t control yourself. He feels his palms begin to sweat. Are they about to argue on the same day they finally said ‘I love you’? Was it a mistake to say it at all? Glenn hadn’t felt any regret about it until this very moment, but maybe, somehow, he’d opened Pandora’s Box on their relationship.

Glenn, I don’t want all our time spent together to be us fucked up. Or you fucked up. It’s getting harder and harder to suppress the anger Alfie’s words rouse in him. “All of our time is not us fucked up together,” he says quietly, defensively. “We’re on vacation. I’m sorry if the flask thing threw you off or whatever, but I’m not, like, an alcoholic,” he says, and it stings to say the word at all. Glenn hates those words. Alcoholic. Addict. They taught him in rehab not to shy from them, but he hates them anyway. He hates the way they devour a person — the way it’s all they become. “It’s not a problem that you don’t want to drink tonight, but I have a problem with the implication that you think I’m, like, some kind of drunk?” He steps back and away from Alfie, wringing his hands together. The argument is flimsy, he knows that — especially considering the many nights Alfie’s spent wrangling his drunk ass into bed, cleaning up after him, holding him when he drinks so much, he cries. He thinks about all of it and wants to be sick. “I’m telling you that I’m fine. I’m not the only person in the world who day drinks. And I’m under a lot of stress, so I’m not going to stop either.”

[glennlester]

alfiecohen​:

Alfie squints his eyes at the mention of Ron DeSantis. Who? But he has been embarrassed too many times with answers he probably should already know. “Uh, no. I am not…that person,” he retorts in a tone a little too proud. They stand in their embrace for a bit longer before Glenn’s grumbling stomach interrupts their moment. The idea of room service sounded great and Alfie wonders if it’d be too much of him to order two entrees for himself. Breakfast was a long time ago and he barely ate anything the way it was. He plucks the hotel guest directory from the end table and opens to the menu that, to his surprise, has plenty to offer. He has only just begun to skim the appetizers and salads when Glenn mentions needing a drink. His eyes dart to the bed quilt and a familiar feeling of uneasiness begins to set in as he plots out his next steps. Then he watches Glenn pour a shot of whiskey…and a second one. 

“I don’t really want to drink tonight,” he says quietly, focusing his eyes back on the menu even though he isn’t reading. Alfie purses his lips and closes the directory, setting it aside on the bed. “What if we just chill tonight? Find some weed? I bet someone in this hotel has a plug. I’m good at sniffing them out.” The younger man stands to his feet and approaches Glenn yet again but not to hold him this time. His heart pounds against his ribcage and the feeling of uneasiness shifts to fear as he prepares to confront him. Alfie takes the first shot out of Glenn’s hand and sets it back down on the mini bar surface. “Baby…” he begins, not sure where he is going with this. “I, uh,” he swallows. Am I schvitzing right now? He bites the bullet. “I’m starting to get concerned about this, Glenn.” 

.

Glenn doesn’t think much of Alfie saying he doesn’t want to drink — they’ve had a long day after all, he’s probably just tired — but he is quite surprised when the younger man approaches him and takes the shot glass out of his hand. His grins falls into a frown as he realizes what’s happening, and he has to suppress the wave of anger that comes with his initial reaction. What the fuck? Who the fuck does he think he is? But he can’t talk to Alfie like that. He’s been down this road before, and his only choice is to try to play it cool. “Concerned about what, baby?” His voice is sweet. “If it’s about the flask, I don’t usually have that on me, I just wanted us to have some bourbon for the apple cider. It’s part of the experience.”

Glenn takes Alfie’s hands in his, fluttering his dark lashes up at his companion. “We don’t have to drink tonight, that’s totally fine,” he says, giving him a little squeeze. “Not sure if you’ll be able to sniff out any weed in the hotel, but I give you permission to download Tinder and look for some that way. Probably your best bet.” Glenn steps a bit closer, locking eyes with the younger man. He reaches up to caress his cheek. “I’m fine, baby. You don’t have to worry about me. Like I said, this place just… it gets to me sometimes. But I’m all right, okay?” He pecks him on the lips and hopes that’ll put an end to it, but then he breaks their embrace and reaches back for the shot glass. “I did kind of already pour this one, though, so I don’t want it to go to waste, yanno?” He downs it quickly then replaces the glass in the sink, holding both his hands up as if to say, That’s all! “Now…” He moves back and snakes both his arms around the younger man’s waist, leaning in to leave a trail of kisses from Alfie’s collarbone up to his jawline. “Where were we?”

[drexmbxys]

[drexmbxys]

[fruitblush]

Prints

[funeral]

Clementine von Radics, James

[metamorphesque]

I have so much love in me that I would like to cry.  

Simone de Beauvoir, Kayleb Rae Candrilli, Sylvia Plath, Clarice Lispector

buy me a coffee

[abuzd]

[fairydrowning]

"Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight he had never chosen to bear."

– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

[words-and-coffee]

I cannot quit your love without dying.

Pablo Neruda, 100 love sonnets: LXXX

(via

words-and-coffee

)

[glennlester]

alfiecohen​:

Alfie has not a single clue what Glenn is trying to explain to him about the pumpkins but he couldn’t stop watching him with a dopey smile if he tried. He follows suit and knocks on the bottom of the pumpkin. “Ah, yeah. That one definitely sounds…broken. Heh,” he says, pretending to know exactly what he’s looking for. His eyes wander around the crops, not quite sure where to begin his hunt. “But the best-looking pumpkin is right here,” Alfie coos as he reaches out to pinch Glenn’s cheek. He turns on his heels and begins in the opposite direction when Glenn suddenly snatches him by the waist and pulls him backwards. He stifles a laugh, not because it’s funny, but because he’s been thinking about the exact same thing since they pulled into the parking lot. “I don’t know about you but I think that would make me pretty lucky actually,” he retorts, grinding his ass against Glenn’s crotch before wiggling himself free. “Too bad you’ll have to wait until we’re back in Columbus for any of this,” Alfie flamboyantly gestures towards himself and this time actually begins his pumpkin pursuit. 

After loads of internal debate and overwhelming disappointment whenever the hollow ring tainted a perfectly fine looking pumpkin, Alfie locates two flawless gourds and the couple makes their trip back to the hotel.

“Look at our children!” Alfie announces, plopping his pumpkin down on their bed to stare in awe. “She’s so beautiful. Is it a she? Does she have a pumpkin-ussy? Let’s ask the expert,” he rolls the pumpkin over on its side to expose its bottom and darts his eyes to Glenn for his take just as he’s removing his jacket. “Oh yeah, baby. Take it all off now,” he teases - sort of. He abandons his gourd on the bed and steps up to Glenn closely, their noses nearly touching. Alfie considers jumping on him and having his way right then and there. Instead, he leans down to rest his cheek on his shoulder instead and snakes both arms around his waist. He closes his eyes and they stay like this for a moment. “Mmm, I really do love you,” he murmurs. “And you smell good. And you got a cute little ass,” he squeezes. “I’m hungry. Those donuts were not a meal.”

.

Despite being unable to really doze off in the car like he planned due to his partner’s… erratic driving, Glenn is happy to be back in the hotel for the evening. He’s not sure he’d ever say it, but his favorite times with Alfie are the evenings when nobody bothers them, and they can just be together — it’s intimate in a way that Glenn treasures perhaps more than anything else. He laughs when Alfie speculates on the pumpkin’s sex. “If they’re our children, what’s with all the genital inspection? Who are you, Ron DeSantis?” His heart begins to pump faster when Alfie approaches him, and for a moment, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. But then he pulls Glenn into such an intimate embrace, he wants to cry. He snakes one arm around the younger man’s waist and the other through his soft amber curls, closing his eyes and simply savoring the closeness. “Thanks, ditto,” he chuckles. “You smell good too. You always smell good. I love you so much, baby.” Despite saying it all day long, this one feels the most intimate, the most special — and Glenn is floored at how healing it is.

“Yeah, I knew that was coming,” he quips, pulling away to give Alfie’s belly a little tickle. Despite the teasing, Glenn’s body betrays how hungry he also is with a loud growl from his own stomach. Not entirely surprising when it’s been empty all day minus half a doughnut and whiskey, but he’s surprised nonetheless. “Jeez, okay, we’ll order room service. But first —”  he breaks away, heading for the mini-bar, “I need a drink. I know you’re not a whiskey fan, so I got some tequila, orange juice and grenadine. Tequila sunrise, you know? Very popular among the locals,” he laughs, pouring himself a shot of whiskey and then a second for good measure.  He’s trying to weigh, given Alfie’s change in demeanor earlier, if he can sneak away to the bathroom at some point for a bump or two, but he decides he should probably play it cool for now. “Take a look at the menu and let me know what you want, I’ll call down,” he says, mixing a drink for Alfie.

[glennlester]

alfiecohen​:

“Oh but I know I’m great with moms,” Alfie really makes sure to drive home the point but the more Glenn goes on, he knows there is residual anguish when it comes to his parents. When he voices his concern about the idea of them meeting, the younger man is quick to protest. “Don’t overthink it,” he starts, reaching again for Glenn’s hand to offer a reassuring clasp. “No pressure, okay? If we see her, we see her. If we don’t, we don’t. Just call her first, ask her how she’s doing, you know? Catch up and then…see what she says.” He knew that Glenn’s thought process operated like dominos - one thought leads to another and then another and another until he has fully become averse to whatever the original idea was.

It stings for Alfie to learn that even when Glenn makes a selfless gesture such as replacing an entire stove, he’s still met with rejection from his parents. Again, he can’t help but realize their respective relationships with their parents was always going to be the biggest discrepancy between them. Alfie couldn’t even introduce Glenn to his parents for obvious reasons. “I mean, I’m not really surprised that she doesn’t know,” he says, hoping his words don’t come off any sort of way. “Oh, wow…and you were, like, engaged to Max,” he struggles to conceal the disappointment in his voice but he’s bad at that shit. Nonetheless, he has hope that even if he doesn’t have the chance to meet his mother this trip, there will be plenty of other opportunities in the future. Alfie rests his hand on Glenn’s thigh before giving him a promising squeeze. “Yeah, exactly. Just see what’s up. You know I have your back, babe. It’s scary…but you have me.” He draws Glenn’s face in with his index finger and their lips connect again, this time slowly. “Can I trust you to babysit the apple cider donuts while I pick out a pumpkin? Just so we’re clear, you’re getting one too. That’s an executive decision I’ve made.” Alfie pulls himself off the bench and like he’s done a million times before, he drags Glenn up to his feet to set off for the main event. “You’re fucking my brains out when we get back to the hotel, yeah?”

.

Don’t overthink it. Much easier said than done, but it’s essentially the same advice his therapist has been trying to drill into his head for the past three years. Getting lost in your own head is the enemy of happiness, it seems. He’s not sure why the thought of calling his own mother is so stressful, but he tries to push it away for now. That can be a problem for tomorrow, he tells himself. He and Alfie are so close that the younger man is practically sitting in his lap, and yet Glenn wants to be closer. And naked. “You’re right,” he says, bringing their clasped hands to his lips to place tiny kisses on Alfie’s knuckles. “I’ll just see what’s up. Maybe she has plans this weekend or something, I don’t know. But I’m not gonna stress about it. I know you’ve got my back, baby.” He won’t admit it, but hearing Alfie say Max’s name makes his stomach turn. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, before Alfie kisses him again, making his heart thump faster in his chest. He slips in a bit of tongue and tries to deepen the kiss before remembering they’re in public (in Ohio, no less) and begrudgingly pulling away. He stretches and groans as he gets to his feet, clasping the younger man’s hand in his own once more as they head for the pumpkin patch.

Glenn chuckles at Alfie’s insistence that he also get a pumpkin. “Sure, you didn’t think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did you? Besides, you’re gonna need my pumpkin-picking expertise, rookie,” he teases, poking Alfie in the ribs. When they finally make it to the patch, there are very few people left around, which Glenn is grateful for. “Okay,” he begins, as if he’s about to give a lecture, “the secret is to pick one that isn’t fully ripe yet so it lasts longer. You have to turn them over,” he demonstrates with the nearest gourd, “and knock on the bottom. If it sounds hollow, it’s already ripe. No good. If it sounds full, you’re in the clear.” The one he’s chosen to knock on makes a hollow ring. “See? No good.” He replaces it on the ground and gestures to the rest of the patch. “Other than that, it’s all about aesthetics. So of course you deserve the best-looking pumpkin here.” Glenn looks around and is pleased to find nobody paying them an ounce of attention. He comes up behind the younger man and wraps his arms around his skinny waist, pulling him close to whisper in his ear. “You’re lucky I don’t take you behind that shed and fuck you right now,” he purrs. “I haven’t been able to focus this entire time because I can’t think about anything but putting my cock in your pretty little mouth and cumming down your throat. So go pick us out some pumpkins so I can do that,” he says, giving Alfie’s ass a little squeeze and sending him on his way.