Hi, friends. I'm gonna need you to sit down and freakin' listen for a sec, because I'm here to talk to you about this asshole right here. His name is Jamie Fraser.
And this dick-sicle has literally ruined my life.
Oh sorry, did my cursing offend you? Well, you know what offended me? The fictional existence of such a perfect man.
You see, I've recently gotten into the show Outlander* and my life has irrevocably changed.
But this isn't about the show. This is just about Jamie. Just Jamie. Jamie Fraser. Ja'mie Fraser.
Jamie, quick question for ye: How fucking dare you?
You think you can just go around making bitches with hearts of stone fall madly in love with you and leave their husbands for ye AND JUST GET AWAY WITH IT?*
Have some mercy with that goddamn smirk of yours, you dipshit.
And are you freakin' kidding me with that hair of perfectly coiled red ringlets?
Your hair is the color of a perfectly mixed batch of Kool-Aid with some Weasley brothers sprinkled in.
And you're allowed to have a body like that and it's apparently NBD?
Screw. You.
Oh, so being physically flawless isn't enough for you? You have to be amazingly loyal and romantic, too?
HAHAHAHAHAHA. Don't mind me, that's just the sound of my heart actually bursting!
You continuously risk your well-being to protect the ones you love? GIVE ME MY HEART BACK, YE BASTARD.
You're making my life about 1,000 times more difficult, you tall, gorgeous block of Scottish perfection.
The moral of this story is that I freakin' despise you — you've left me gasping for breath in a way that neither I nor my therapist can get to the bottom of.
And now I'll just end with this. Because why the fuck not?
