#Grew Up in Pittsburgh

[freebooter4ever]

I miss having roommates who were also friends ;_; im tired of coming home alone

[bisexualamy]

i know we have this thread every week but it winds me up in a way that few other things do because, when you think about it, the audacity to tell a stranger "i know you think you experienced misogyny, but since you're a binary transgender man* (and therefore have always been a man, something that applies to every binary transgender man in the world) you actually experienced misdirected misogyny that wasn't meant for you because you're not a woman. hope this helps :)" is so profoundly presumptive and insulting

some of us are older than you and grew up in a much more transphobic world! some of us did not grow up in liberal areas! for some of us, it was impossible to access trans care until we picked up and moved our lives to somewhere more accepting! and *shockingly* some of us have not always ID'd as men, and to retroactively re-frame our sometimes traumatic experiences with misogyny as "misdirected" is just so. i keep coming back to this but it's just plain insulting.

i identified and presented as a woman most of my childhood! i couldn't present as anything BUT a woman even after i stopped IDing as one for my safety! i started transition as an adult seven years ago! my hometown was so conservative that they had their first, sparsely attended pride event four months ago this past june!

i had grown men sexualize me as young as 14. i experienced sexual harassment and unconsentual touching from my peers even younger. men joked about r*ping me to my face! who tf is anyone to tell me that didn't count as "true" misogyny. because it sure as shit was directed towards me. even the current wave of transphobic backlash uses misogynistic language towards all transgender people, including trans men. when transphobes infantilize us, frame us as "confused young women" suckered into an ideology we couldn't possibly understand, that's misogyny! when transphobes discourage us from transitioning because it will devalue our one asset: our beauty, when they discuss top surgery as a mutilation and mourn our breasts over our physical and mental health, that's misogyny!

the fact that i'm now a man does not change that fact and i wish more people allowed room for nuance in these discussions. if it clashes with your understanding of the gender binary, good! it should! it reeks of too much theory and not enough interacting with irl trans people. it's a vast oversimplification of the lived experiences of lots of trans people. there are thousands of ways to be an enemy of patriarchy.

*i am aware that this affects other trans men and transmascs who are not binary men but i'm using binary men here to make the point that even if 'woman' is zero part of your identity this still applies

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

OH I DO ACTUALLY HAVE ONE QUESTION IM CURIOUS ABOUT & i dont Think it'll be big spoilers? feel free 2 ignore if it is. but like wheree is rockfall/newhaven/surrounding area, like, geographically. assuming the country they're in is somewhat analogous to the usa. r they east coast west coast midwest.... i wanna knoww... 👀👀👀

OH OH UHHHH. THERE IS ACTUALLY A MAP theyve neber posted it because its pretty much just taken directly from the mutants and masterminds rulebook with a handful of names and places changed (i cannot send it to u yet bc there are a few places u havent heard of yet so remind me to do that later) BUT. IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY. rockfall is either slightly north or south of new haven, new haven is on the east coast, [other big city u dont know the name of yet] is also on the east coast "a few territories away from new haven" so like. a couple states i guess (?), deadwood is pretty far away to the west, like. roadtrip/fly in a plane length away .

[highdefinitions]

:,)

[branchiopod]

thinking about garfield’s nightmare at kennywood…none of you know her like i do

[coolyourdools]

should I reclaim "yinz" for myself

[royasuka]

if i hate ranch dressing and mayo but i love beer brats and corn on the cob am i still considered midwestern

[youareinlove]

i wore my dolphin’s shirt today and sent a picture to my father, i think he considers me his daughter again now🧣

SKGVKSFHVADKFSJ your character is no longer flawed i suppose 💀

[doctorwhoisadhd]

actually, while it is true that MOST places in the US wouldn't say slippy, it is NOT true that nobody in the US uses it because of a very specific dialect: pittsburghese, also known as western pennsylvania english or yinzer. the term "yinzer", of course, comes from "yinz" (plural you), which in turn comes from... scots-irish english.

interestingly enough, despite the fact that it seems like younger people, aka those who grew up with the internet, are losing a lot of the characteristic features of the dialect (especially most of the more dramatic pronunciations and some of the more unique vocabulary, including yinz), "slippy" is one of the things that seems to be sticking around. also, it seems like almost the only "verb-y" descriptor present in pittsburghese, but i'm not a linguist and that could just be that the others like it have disappeared at this point.

but yeah, even most younger people who grew up in pittsburgh, even if their parents didn't, would still probably use "slippy" — so it's not used in almost anywhere in the US, but it IS used here!

[happyhornqvist]

i will not try getting back into baseball i will NOT try getting back into baseball I WILL NOT

[thechanelmuse]

Jackie Ormes, the first Black American woman cartoonist

When the 14-year-old Black American boy Emmett Till was lynched in 1955, one cartoonist responded in a single-panel comic. It showed one Black girl telling another: "I don't want to seem touchy on the subject... but that new little white tea-kettle just whistled at me!"

It may not seem radical today, but penning such a political cartoon was a bold and brave statement for its time — especially for the artist who was behind it. This cartoon was drawn by Jackie Ormes, the first syndicated Black American woman cartoonist to be published in a newspaper. Ormes, who grew up in Pittsburgh, got her first break as cartoonist as a teenager. She started working for the Pittsburgh Courier as a sports reporter, then editor, then cartoonist who penned her first comic, Torchy Brown in Dixie to Harlem, in 1937. It followed a Mississippi teen who becomes a famous singer at the famed Harlem jazz club, The Cotton Club.

In 1942, Ormes moved to Chicago, where she drew her most popular cartoon, Patty-Jo 'n' Ginger, which followed two sisters who made sharp political commentary on Black American life. 

In 1947, Ormes created the Patty-Jo doll, the first Black doll that wasn't a mammy doll or a Topsy-Turvy doll. In production for a decade, it was a role model for young black girls. "The doll was a fashionable, beautiful character," says Daniel Schulman, who curated one of the dolls into a recent Chicago exhibition. "It had an extraordinary presence and power — they're collected today and have important place in American doll-making in the U.S."

In 1950, Ormes drew her final strip, Torchy in Heartbeats, which followed an independent, stylish black woman on the quest for love — who commented on racism in the South. "Torchy was adventurous, we never saw that with an Black American female figure," says Beauchamp-Byrd. "And remember, this is the 1950s." Ormes was the first to portray black women as intellectual and socially-aware in a time when they were depicted in a derogatory way.

One common mistake that erased Ormes from history is mis-crediting Barbara Brandon-Croft as the first nationally syndicated Black American female cartoonist. "I'm just the first mainstream cartoonist, I'm not the first at all," says Brandon-Croft, who published her cartoons in the Detroit Free Press in the 1990s. "So much of Black history has been ignored, it's a reminder that Black history shouldn't just be celebrated in February."

Source

[v6quewrlds]

With the bengals winning against steelers, it's only right we get a blurb/imagine of after-game activities...

imagine post-game shenanigans with joe.

author's note⠀⁎⠀suggestive but no smut because i wasn't feeling it lmao

"Fuck you!" Taylor jeered at a fired-up Steelers fan who had recognized you as Joe's girlfriend, his words slurred and aggressive. You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his audacity. The two of you were attempting to join the crowd leaving the bustling stadium, your plain hoodies and baseball caps failing to allow you the privilege of blending in once the home fans began to realize their team had just been defeated by the quarterback whose girlfriend was now in their midst.

You tended to avoid attending road games due to Joe's insistence on keeping you safe. The risk of confrontation with die-hard fans was always high, especially when emotions were as raw as they are today.

When you had first told him that you had decided to go with Kia and Taylor, he had been hesitant, forcing the three of you to promise not to wear any Bengals' merchandise and to keep your heads down. No flashy game-day outfits, no screaming, and no arguing with fans. The tight game, however, had you all riled up, and you hadn't even made it through the first quarter before the excitement got the best of you.

As the crowd began to disperse, the hostility grew palpable. You noticed the glares and the muttered insults, but you ignored them. You were leaving victorious, and you weren't about to let a bunch of sour fans ruin the moment. The three of you made your way through the throng, Joe's instructions ringing in your ears: "Just get to the car and stay together."

The Uber ride back was a mix of elated chatter and nervous glances at your surroundings. Your heart raced with every honk and shout from the passing cars, but you made it without incident. Back in your hotel room, you gathered your bags and downed celebratory shots of tequila. You shuffled back to your ride to the airport, the adrenaline from the game still pumping through your veins.

The private jet was a welcome sight. A luxurious cabin in stark contrast to your economy flight into Pittsburgh last night, with its plush leather seats and the soothing hum of the engines. You felt your anxiety lift from your shoulders as you all climbed into your seats, leaving the tension of the city behind. You couldn't help but think of Joe, probably still in the locker room, dealing with the media circus that came with a victory of that magnitude.

Your phone buzzed with a FaceTime call from Joe just as you all settled into your seats, waiting for the pilot to step into the cabin to announce when you'd be taking off. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw his sweet, exhausted face fill the screen. "Hey, baby," he said, his voice hoarse from yelling throughout the game. "You guys get out okay?"

You grinned, your friends leaning in to say hello. "Yeah, we're all good. Just about to take off." You gestured to the plush interior. "Thanks for the upgrade," you teased, your eyes sparkling.

Joe chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Couldn't have my girl and her entourage flying coach in enemy territory," he quipped. His gaze lingered on your lips, the exhaustion giving way to something more heated. "You look good, babe, even through this screen."

Taylor and Kia giggled, making lewd gestures behind your head, egging Joe on. He rolled his eyes playfully and leaned closer to the screen, his voice dropping an octave. "You better be ready for me when I get home. We've got some celebrating to do," he murmured, his eyes darkening with desire.

You couldn't help but laugh as your friends gasped in faux shock at Joe's suggestive tone. "I saw that! You disgusting pervert!" Kia exclaimed dramatically, referencing the TikTok with a grin, and pointing at the screen. Joe's grin only widened, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his voice low.

"I'll be waiting," you said with a knowing smile, your voice thick with anticipation. You hung up as Joe was called for press duties and turned to your friends, who were speaking with the pilot.

By the time you touched down in Cincinnati and made it home, you had mentally decided on the perfect way to greet Joe. You changed into his favorite lingerie set, a black lace number that hugged your curves just right. The scent of vanilla and champagne filled the room as you popped the cork on the bottle and filled two flutes. The bubbles danced in the light as you set them on the kitchen island, waiting for the moment Joe walked through the door.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you heard the garage door open and the sound of Joe's footsteps echoing through the hallway. He looked exhausted, his jaw tight, but the sight of you dressed like that brought a lazy smile to his face. He dropped his bag and shrugged out of his coat protecting him from the falling snow. "Damn, you weren't kidding," he murmured, his eyes devouring you.

You walked over to him, placing a flute in his hand and whispering, "You told me to be ready, didn't you?" You balanced your flute in your other hand, lifting it to clink against his. The sound of your glasses meeting filled the room, a tiny promise of what the night would hold.

Joe took a sip, his eyes focused on yours. He could feel his body responding to you, the ache from the game's physicality forgotten. He took you in, his eyes tracing the curves of your lingerie-clad body, the way your skin seemed to glow against the black lace. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered under his breath, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Do a spin for me, pretty girl."

You rolled your eyes, but the playful challenge in Joe's voice made you smile. You twirled around, the lingerie hugging you in all the right places, the flimsy material leaving little to the imagination. You felt a rush of power and excitement as Joe's eyes widened and he took a sharp breath in. You knew he liked what he saw.

He threw back the rest of his drink, the liquid sliding down his throat as he stepped closer to you, setting his empty glass aside. "Come here," he said, his voice gruff and low. You felt your heart flutter as you stepped into his embrace. The warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold air outside, his arms wrapping around you tightly. He kissed you deeply, his hands exploring your curves. The taste of victory and the promise of a night of passion mingled in the air, electrifying your every touch.

"I'm glad you like it," you said, your voice teasing, as Joe's hands roamed your body. You felt the heat between you build, his touch setting your skin on fire. "But first," you whispered, pulling away slightly, "I need to check on that head of yours."

Joe's smile immediately faded, and he sighed. "Babe, I'm fine." But you were insistent.

You had seen the hit replayed over and over on the screens in the stadium. The way he had been pancaked, face first, to the ground had made your heart stop for a moment. You were paralyzed from your seat, silently praying as the trainers rushed onto the field. When he finally stood up and walked off the field, you felt a mix of relief and anger. Relief that he wasn't seriously injured, anger that he was still so woefully under-protected years into his time with the Bengals.

"Just let me take a look," you said, taking his face in your hands and turning him so the light from the kitchen illuminated his skin. His eyes searched yours with an annoyed look that you ignored. You knew he was trying to gauge whether you were just worried or if you were about to turn into Meredith Grey.

He grumbled but allowed you to inspect his head, his hands resting gently on your hips, thumbs tracing the lines of the lace pressed against your skin. You felt a slight bump on his forehead, but there was no bruising to be seen. "It's just a little swollen," you said, your voice tight with concern. "Are you sure you don't have a concussion?"

"I'm fine, babe," Joe said firmly, his patience waning. He knew you meant well, but the adrenaline from winning had his body humming with need, and your gentle fussing was only making it harder to focus on claiming his reward. "They checked me out already."

Your eyes squinted skeptically. "Sure, the 'unaffiliated' neurological consultant who's hired by the NFL and defers to the team doctor," you quipped, unable to let go of your concern.

Joe huffed again, rolling his eyes. "Look, if there was something serious, they wouldn't have cleared me to finish the game," he said, trying to soothe your fears. "And you know the Players Association pays them too."

You pursed your lips, "Fine," you conceded, letting your hands drop to his chest. "But if you start feeling weird, or you get a headache, or anything, promise me you'll tell me. I'm serious about that, Joe."

"I promise," he said, leaning in to kiss you again. His hand slid down your back, caressing the soft skin above the lace. You felt the tension in your body start to dissolve as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive flesh. His hands roamed lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer to him.

"Someone's eager," you murmured, a hint of laughter in your voice as Joe's hands grew more insistent, obviously trying to ignore your fussing. You knew the game had taken a lot out of him, but you also knew the effect you had on him, and it was clear he wasn't going to let a little fear get in the way of celebrating. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the brief tension forgotten as your bodies met.

"I'm trying to fuck, and you want to give me a medical exam?" Joe chuckled against your skin, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. His hands grew bolder, slipping beneath the lace to cup your breasts. Your laugh turned into a moan as his thumbs brushed over your nipples. The sound sent a jolt of desire straight to Joe's core, his cock thickening as he felt you respond.

"I can't help it," you murmured, your eyes fluttering closed as your hands drifted from his chest to the back of his head. You sighed softly as he nibbled tentatively at the edge of your jaw.

"You're my baby, and I want you to stay my baby." Your voice was filled with a mix of concern and desire that made Joe's heart swell. He kissed you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting the sweetness of the champagne. He could feel the urgency building between you, the need to celebrate his victory in the most intimate way possible.

[annieqattheperipheral]

HER STORY IS INCREDIBLE EVERYONE SIT DOWN AND LEARN FROM THIS QUEEN ⤵️

Kiana Scott, who played minor hockey system for 11 seasons, including four seasons on boys teams, gravitated to scouting from watching her brother’s games and critiquing his strengths and weaknesses.

Unaware of jobs available in hockey, she enrolled in makeup artistry college after high school, but knew her heart was in the sport.

She eventually enrolled in an online hockey general manager scouting course.

Scott joined the International Scouting Service Hockey mentorship program in 2018 and scouted for the service for two years while holding down two jobs.

“I love scouting future prospects, and the evaluation process,” she said. “I think that's kind of where my passion lies. It's just the evaluation process. And it's exciting, building a team.”

Scott spent two seasons as a full-time scout for Erie before she took a bold step and left the organization to move to Calgary and became an independent scout in June 2022.

“I just kept practicing my craft and kind of paid my own way, like, throughout the whole year,” she said. “All of the tickets to every game, all of my travel expenses, everything. I just put all my money into scouting and trying to evolve and then I ended up getting my (Avalanche) internship the next year.”

Scott had some financial help from her family for the move and she supplemented her income by working as a bartender at a Calgary casino, a job with hours that allowed her to scout games.

If all that wasn’t enough, she also enrolled in the University of Florida’s online sports management program.

“I've always had the mindset to just keep betting on myself and working hard and evolving,” she said. “I think I've taken a lot of risks to get to where I am, but I wouldn't try to change the journey for anything.”

Scott said she hopes women, women of color and people who don’t come from a so-called “traditional” hockey background will follow her on the journey.

“I grew up playing hockey, but I didn’t play professional hockey, I didn’t go to college or university for hockey,” she said. “I just had a passion for it. I love scouting. I worked at it, and I continue working at my craft.

“People that don’t necessarily come from the traditional background, I hope they see themselves in me and believe that they can put their minds to it and get it done.”

-----

The 2024 NHL Draft was as eventful for Kiana Scott as it was for the players who were selected in the seven-round event at Sphere in Las Vegas last month.

The 25-year-old Barrie, Ontario, native signed with the Colorado Avalanche at the draft to become a full-time amateur scout, fulfilling a goal she has had since she was a teenager.

“This is something that I've worked really hard for my whole career to be able to sign my first NHL contract,” Scott said. “I was elated. The Avs have been really good for me the past year, and I’m excited to keep building with them.”

Scott joined the Avalanche after working as an intern for the organization.

Colorado general manager Chris MacFarland said he and executive director of hockey operations Suzanne Borchert “were impressed with her work ethic and her passion."

MacFarland said: “Kiana was on our radar when she was scouting in major junior circuits ... and it worked that a few years ago we had an internship opportunity for her.

“She did a good job in that role and was an integral part of our amateur scouting department. We’re excited to see her contributions moving forward in her full-time role as an amateur scout.”

-----

Scott made history when she became the first woman scout in the Ontario Hockey League with Erie in March 2020.

She was among the initial of a wave of women who were hired in recent years as scouts at all levels of hockey, including Cammi Granato (Seattle Kraken), Blake Bolden (Los Angeles Kings), Krissy Wendell-Pohl (Pittsburgh Penguins), Meghan Hunter (Chicago Blackhawks), Gabriella Switaj (Anaheim Ducks) and Brigette Lacquette (Chicago Blackhawks).

Granato moved on from Seattle to become an assistant general manager for the Vancouver Canucks on Feb. 10, 2022, and Hunter was promoted to assistant GM by the Blackhawks on June 22, 2022.

“When I first started scouting, I didn’t know of any women in the industry already,” she said. “Cammi Granato got her job with the NHL a year after I started scouting. That’s when I kind of knew it was possible. But I never had anyone to look up to. I just had this dream and the passion for hockey. I knew that I had to the talent and skill to do it, and to try to keep building on them.

"That’s what I’ve always gone off on -- keep evolving, never give up on what you love.”

[techramonic]

What are some facts or tidbits about Daniel that you don't think is very well-known?

Hey! Thanks for the great question. I have a few things not a lot of people have talked about Daniel, all of which are information taken from his father's book: "Walking in Daniel's Shoes".

Facts about Daniel Mauser

1. Daniel's name came from the Biblical character Daniel and his mother Linda's fondness of Elton John's song titled with the same name. Conner was Linda's maiden name and since she was an only child, it was a way for them to carry her family's last name.

2. In sixth grade, he struggled somewhat with depression. After his mother sent him to a therapist, it was revealed that he was feeling stressed because at the time, he had pneumonia and missed school a few times. He felt that his teacher was pressuring him to catch up. Fortunately, he recovered after a few months.

3. Daniel used to be in cub scouts and boy scouts for a few years. Once school had became more hectic and he was more engaged in piano lessons, he dropped out of the scouts. He had earned basic badges but was not too enthusiastic with scouting long-term.

4. On July 24, 1999, Boy Scout 359 installed a park bench in Daniel’s memory along the South Rim Trail at Roxborough State Park, ten miles south of Columbine. Daniel was once a member of the Boy Scout Troop that preceded 359. Roxborough was the Mauser family’s favorite hiking area.

5. He played chess and won second place in a Denver metro tournament as a member of the school's chest club team. He also won two National Science Olympiad awards, presented to the top ten scorers in general science knowledge.

6. He was an occasional babysitter and was great with kids.

7. He was a Junior Volunteer at Swedish Hospital for two summers and helped in the pharmacy and he expressed interest in working in a medical or medical research field.

8. Despite winning often in games like Super Mario Brothers and even Foosball, his dad had caught on he was getting bored of playing with him, but despite that, he still played whenever he was invited because that was how much he loved his father.

9. He had a keen interest in current events and social issues and was a frequent reader of Time Magazine and viewer of 60 Minutes.

10. His father said he sometimes worried about little things, like if the gas tank in the car was getting too low.

11. He played soccer for a couple of years when he was younger, tried skiing, and played baseball on a YMCA team.

12. Before his death, Daniel's Biology teacher told his mother that he would be receiving an award for outstanding sophomore biology student. It was a supposed secret, one which Daniel never found out.

13. His family was very close. Tom described them as a "Dinner Table Family", who always ate dinner together. According to his father's words, "there was no sneaking off to watch the TV or play on the computer. We are together, talked together, and exchanged stories."

14. Daniel and his sister were close despite their contrasting personalities. Daniel was more like his mother—shy, introspective, intelligent, and calm. His sister Christine was like her father—outgoing, witty, a bit wild and crazy. He would often roll his eyes at her and in an exasperated tone, he would exclaim, "Theater people! Oh, my God!"

15. He had a dry sense of humor and his mom thought he prided himself on being a rational sort of fellow who was not given to drama of any sort.

16. Tom, Daniel's father, grew out of poverty. He came from Finelyville, a small town south of Pittsburgh. His father was a coal miner, his mother was a housewife, and he was the youngest out of four siblings. Tom rarely had pictures of himself. However, he didn't want that to happen with his children, so he would frequently take their pictures and film them to keep memories.

17. Daniel didn't like his pictures being taken when he was a teen. His father would still insist to take pictures for keepsake.

18. When he was fifteen and a half, Daniel was qualified to receive his driver's permit but he said he wasn't ready yet.

19. His nickname in debate class, according to Devon Adams, was "Moose": "So appropriate —it's a large, amusing but quick and fierce when-it-needs-to-be animal."

20. Daniel volunteered to rake the leaves off the lawn of a neighborhood senior citizen's house after he recently had a heartattack.

[its-vannah]

Another Love | Graham Dunne x Reader

Request from anonymous: more graham and reader with probs the inspo being the weezer song (I just threw out the love of my dreams)/ an unrequited love

A/N: This was so hard to write. It drained me, but I'm happy with the end product. There's no happy ending in this one, really onlt angst. Hope you guys enjoy and please feel free to request more. I write for Graham, Eddie, and Warren.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs (mescaline), unrequited love, implied sex, blood, profanities

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Part One | Part Two| Part Three

Unrequited love. The leading cause of heartbreak not only in America, but in the rest of the world, too. It's that feeling in the pit of your stomach that sits there and never really goes away, no matter how many times you try to stop thinking about it. It plagues you, haunting every memory you have. You're left to wonder what could have been if, how things could have been different if. It's always an "if", always ending in a question mark and not a period.

You're love for Graham Dunne had never wavered in the twenty two years you had been in love with him. Not when he took your hand and guided you around the neighborhood because he was your fiercest, if not smallest, protector. It only grew when the two of you kissed each other under the bleachers at a high school football game, getting it out of the way with "no strings attached" before you opened yourselves up for dating. It didn't stop when he got his first girlfriend and you were left thirdwheeling. It didn't even begin to fade when he moved out to LA to pursue music while you stayed behind in Pittsburgh, destined for a typical 9-5 job.

Graham had his fair share of girlfriends, especially after The Dunne Brothers was formed. His role in the band, while not as popular as Billy, was prominent. He was cute, naive. But apparently so were you.

When you had heard the news that the band was on tour, set to stop in Pittsburgh, you reached out to Camila to confirm if it was really them. Of course, you had every album they had released, including 7,8,9—their newest.

"Camila," You had said into your phone, twisting the cord around your fingers, "Have they changed any since I last saw them? It's been, what, a couple years now, hasn't it?"

She sighed into the phone, "Other than Billy and I being parents? No, I don't think so. Warren is the same as ever, Eddie's a little more irritiable though. You'll meet Karen, she's got a no bullshit attitude. You'll love her. Your Graham still looks like a deer in headlights anytime he sees a pretty girl."

"Got it. And you? Are you coming?" You asked, hopeful you'd be able to see her again after so long.

"I'm going to try. I'll have to take Julia with me, though. It won't be easy, I'm a few months pregnant, Y/N."

Eyes widening, you smiled, "Oh, Cami, congratulations."

"Thank you, really, it's been hard being away from family. But I've got Billy and the boys, Karen, too, so it's not all bad. They're excited to see you, Y/N. Especially Graham. He hadn't stopped telling everyone about you since they scheduled Pittsburgh on the tour."

"He's been talking about me?"

She laughed on the other end of the phone, "Everyone already knows you, except for Daisy. But he can't help himself. He's like a kid on Christmas, dying to see you."

Trying to steady your breathing, you took a deeo breath, "Well, I'll see you guys in a few weeks, then. Keep me posted on how you're doing, though. Being pregnant on the road can't be easy."

"I will, Y/N," She said, "We'll see you soon. Julia, can you say bye to Y/N?"

"Bye bye!" A smile voice said on the other end of the phone.

Your heart melted a bit, "Bye Cami, bye Julia. See you soon."

With that, you hung up, your heart beating out of your chest.

You only had to wait a few more weeks before you saw him. It shouldn't be that hard.

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

You met with the band at the concert venue, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bix of Graham's favorite chocolates in the other.

As soon as the van doors opened, Eddie opened the passenger door, sliding out onto the pavement. The two of you had known each other since middle school, but it was hard to believe it was him. He had changed. He had grown into his body, looking more confident than he had in the eighth grade.

He gave you a warm smile, pulling you into a side hug, "How are you, Y/N?"

"I'm doing good, just glad to see you guys. And you, you're doing good?"

"Couldn't be happier," He said, his smile faltering slightly as he spoke. Something had happened, you just weren't sure what it was.

Billy was the next out, helping a pregnant Camilla out of the van with one hand, his other supporting Julia.

Camilla waddled towards you, arms out before you could even say hello. Taking her daughter from her husband, she introduced her to you with a big smile.

Kneeling down, you handed Julia the small bouquet of flowers, "These are for you and your mama, Julia."

The girl gasped, hugging them to her chest as she looked up at her mother, jumping excitedly.

Camila mouthed a "thank you" and then looked back at Graham, who stood still, his eyes locked on yours.

Giving you a wink, she picked Julia up and followed Billy to scout out the venue.

As soon as she stepped to the side, you were being scooped up by Graham. He twirled you around, squeezing you so tight you found it hard to breathe.

When he finally set you down, you grabbed his arms for support, laughing at his straight-forwardness.

"It's good to see you, too, Graham," You said, pulling him in for another hug, "It's been too long. Pittsburgh isn't the same without it's favorite Dunne."

"I don't think I'm the favorite Dunne," He said, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

You shrugged, "Maybe not, but you're my favorite."

"Then that's all that matters."

From the side of the van, a woman cleared her throat, looking expectantly at Graham to introduce her.

"Oh! Y/N, this is Karen, our keyboardist. She's British."

Karen stepped forward, nodding to you with a smile before looking at the younger Dunne, "Are those the only words you could think of to describe me?"

"I was put on the spot."

"And how would you describe her?"

Graham smiled, "Karen, this is my best friend in the whole world. We've known each other since we were in diapers."

Coming from the driver's side of the van, Warren walked towards you with outstretched arms, "Pears!"

"Pears?" Karen asked, looking at the drummer.

"Peaches and pears," Warren explained, nodding towards you and Graham, "Had to find some way to embarrass them, Karen Karen."

"Alright," She laughed, "How much mescaline have you had today, Rojas?"

He shrugged, "Enough to make the drive fun."

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

At dinner that night, you were seated next to Graham, and across from Eddie and Camila.

"So, Y/N/N, what have you been up to? Still in school?"

"No, I graduated in May, actually. I start my new job next week."

He clapped your back, "No way! Congrats, Y/N/N. I wish I could've been there to see your graduation."

"It's all good. I've been busy, anyway. What about you guys? Anything planned for after the tour?"

Graham nodded, taking a bite of his food, "Something big that Billy would kill me for talking about. Let's just say you'll have to buy our next record."

You released a breathy laugh, shaking your head, "I've still got your first two in my apartment."

"So, you seeing anyone?" He asked.

Was this some sort of code? Was this his way of preparing to ask you out? You had already waited twenty two years for this.

"No, I'm not. How about you?"

Before he could answer, Julia's cries filled the room. Camila looked around, apologizing as she began rocking her slowly, trying to calm the toddler down. Another tantrum, you guessed. Every bit as fiery as her father.

The conversation continued for another hour without you ever getting an answer to whether he was seeing anyone. You felt wrong bringing it back up since he had already moved on to telling you about the concerts they had been playing the past few weeks.

By the time the check came, you weren't ready to end the night. But they had an early morning tomorrow, with rehearsals and the concert. You understood and bid your goodbyes.

As they drove off, you walked to your car. But you didn't have your purse on you.

Walking back in the restaurant, you went back to your table, finding your purse hanging on the back of a wooden chair, along with Graham's wallet on the table.

Deciding to drop it off at their hotel, you got in your car and started driving.

-------

When you got out of your car, the first person you saw was Eddie, leaning against a pillar while taking a drag of his cigarette.

He straightened when he saw you, a smile on his face, "Y/N, I didn't know you were coming over."

"Me neither," You laughed, "But Graham forgot his wallet."

"I'll walk you in. They won't let you go in without one of us," Eddie said, putting out the flame of his cigarette in an ashtray.

You thanked him, following him inside the hotel and to the elevator.

Making small talk on the way up, you were reminded of how kind Eddie was. He was the most sensible of the group. Not blunt like Karen, not naive like Graham. He wasn't as tough as Billy or as laid-back as Warren. Camila had always been the voice of reason, but Eddie was outspoken.

He led you to Graham's door, knocking on it a few times.

When the door swung open, Graham was standing on the other side, less than half dressed.

Eddie stepped to the side, revealing you behind him.

A surprised expression settled over the youngest Dunne brother, "Y/N, what're you doing here?"

You dug his wallet out of your pocket, "You left this at the restaurant. Can't really go anywhere without it."

He smiled, taking it from you, "Thanks, I appreciate it. You have—"

From inside the room, a woman's voice rang out, "Graham, get the fuck back inside and finish what you started."

It wasn't just any woman, though. It was Karen.

You saw her shoes in the middle of the room from where you were standing, clothes strewn on the floor and dresser.

"I'll leave you to it," You said, swallowing the bile that rose in your throat.

Did he know your heart was breaking? You wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone. It was the worst feeling in the world.

Turning on your heel, Graham didn't bother calling out behind you. He just closed his door, going back to what he hadn't finished.

God, you hated saying that.

Eddie walked beside you, taking notes of your expression. But he waited to say anything until he got in the elevator, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't... I didn't know they were together. Not just in there, but at all."

You stayed silent, unable to look at him. It wasn't his fault, but you were about to crumble.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

That's what broke you. Falling into his side, Graham leaned forward to catch you, his arms wrapping around your waist to support you as tears came rolling down your cheeks.

The elevator was filled with your sobs. You weren't the only one who's heart was breaking. Eddie had always hated seeing you like this.

When the doors opened, Warren appeared on the other side.

Eddie mouthed, "Go get him. Car."

He led you out to the car, a hand pressed on your back as he led you outside.

You slipped in the backseat with him, head resting on his shoulder.

"I thought... I thought he'd..." Your chest heaved, your hands frantically wiping your tears away, "I didn't... Eddie..."

"Shhh," He soothed, "You're going to be alright. I'm here, okay? I'm not going to leave you."

You nodded, clinging to his shirt as you tried to calm yourself.

That's when you heard a knock at your window.

Eddie reached over to open the door, Warren smiling down sympathetically at you.

"Pears, I've got somebody here to see you," He said softly, turning to his friend beside him, hissing, "Jesus Christ, zip it up, asshole."

That stung.

Graham poked his head through, "Y/N/N, what's wrong?"

Eddie glared at him. Another Dunne brother to add to his growing list of people he couldn't give two fucks about.

"Warren, are we interrupting something? I feel like we are."

"Get your head out of your ass, Dunne." Eddie snapped, gesturing towards you.

You pulled away from Eddie, "Can you give us a minute. Please?"

"I'll be right outside if you need me, okay?"

Nodding, you watched as he slid out of the car while Graham slid in, the doors shutting. You had never felt so alone.

"Y/N/N? What's wrong?"

"You, Graham. You're what's fucking wrong."

"I don't, I don't understand..."

You shook your head, "How long have we known each other?"

"Twenty two years."

"Do you love me?"

He nodded, "Of course I do."

"No, Graham, are you in love with me."

"Like—love love?" He asked, quite literally twiddling his thumbs.

"Y/N..." He trailed off.

Your head fell into your hands, inhaling sharply, "You may not be in love with me, Graham."

Sitting back up, you looked him in the eyes, "But I've been in love with you since we were in diapers. That hasn't changed. And it hurts, Graham, it hurts so much to see you with someone else. Because I love you. I always have."

He was silent, unsure of what to say.

"Um, Y/N... I... I'm sorry, I just... I don't think..."

"You didn't think anything of us being each other's first kiss? Nothing of us going to prom together two years straight? Me coming to all of your concerts? You coming to my recitals? Nothing? Absolutely nothing? I was so excited to see you, so excited. I was finally going to tell you how I felt. But I found you with another woman. You told me you had a long day and an early morning and that you couldn't hang out tonight. But you were just fucking your keyboardist."

"Y/N, she's not just my keyboardist."

Your nails dug into your hands, "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out, Graham. Out of my car."

"I'm sorry, I really am."

You pushed him away from you, screaming, "Get out!"

He didn't budge, trying to talk you down.

"I'll always love you, Y/N/N. But you're like my sister."

"I never want to see you again. Ever. I never want to have to look you in the eyes. I'm done, Graham. I'm done always being in second place.

He put a hand on your shoulder.

"So help me Graham, if you don't get out of my fucking car."

He got the message that time, his head bowed as he grasped the door handle.

Before he could leave, you muttered one final sentence, "I'm happy you found someone you love, Graham."

He didn't say anything, slamming the door and walking back inside the hotel.

You slammed your fists against the leather seats of your car, the thread hitting your knuckles just right so that they split open, oozing blood.

It burned, the blood on your hands as you tried to apply pressure.

The car door opened a few minutes later, Eddie sliding back in beside you. Taking note of your bloody hands, he slipped out of his shirt, leaving himself in a white undershirt.

He wrapped the sleeve around your bloody knuckles, pressing down on the wound.

Tears began spilling down your cheeks again and you leaned into him, your head in his chest as he stroked your hair, promising that you'd be okay.

Like you, Eddie had his handful of unrequited love. First Camila, then you. But like Graham, you were to blind to see that.

[hannahssimblr]

We surface eventually, and clamber down the back stairs and out into sharp morning light, squinting against the sun. I feel like a vampire. My friends’ faces are gaunt and drawn, eyes still black. They look like they’ve been dead for a week. 

Except Jen, sober Jen, who smiles sleepily and stretches her arms, breath condensing in the cold air. “God, that was mad,” she says. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” I say. Being out in the daylight like this is always weird, with families walking around, people going to work, while we are like creatures who have dug our way out of the earth, lurching toward home amongst the living. My mouth is so dry, and my jaw hurts. I foresee an afternoon spent throwing up, head in the toilet bowl, groaning as Jonas hammers on the door, appealing to my sense of humanity by reminding me there’s only one bathroom in the apartment.   

“Oh, well, I should probably pack my bags and stuff.” Jen says.

I rub my eyes. “Oh, your flight.”

“Oh, Jen,” Dalia says with a big sad face, “I wish you could stay,” they hug, and rock each other side to side. “Please, come back and visit. This was so fun.”

“I swear!” Jen says. “I love you guys. Come see me in Dublin!”

“Don’t make them go there,” I say, to which she laughs. “Actually, yeah. Never mind. I’ll come back here! And for longer!”

“Please!” Elias and Dalia cry in unison, and then we leave, trudging toward the train station. 

She snoozes on my shoulder on the U-Bahn, while Jonas and I, wired, wide awake, stare at our reflections in the window all the way back to Kreutzberg. 

I lie on my bed, eyes on the cracks on the ceiling, while Jen shoves things into her suitcase. She’s cleaned off all her makeup, leaving black smudged wiped crumpled on the surrounding floor. 

“This was so fun,” she’s saying. “I had such a good time. I mean, last night was amazing. Did you see I kissed that girl with the fan?”

“The fan?”

“Yeah, she was carrying this weird, lacy fan. Anyway, she was dead pretty. I wish I’d gotten her number.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I tried, but she didn’t speak English. There was no point.”

“So you didn’t speak before you starting kissing her.”

“No, we didn’t need to. I just met her eyes across the dancefloor and we both knew.”

“Ah, nice.”

The mattress shifts under her weight, and her face slides into my vision, pink cheeked, with eyeliner still smudged in the spaces between her lashes. “You’re coming down.”

“Yep.”

“Poor Judie. Rough day ahead.”

“Honestly, it’ll probably be a few days. A week, even.”

“Oof. Do you do this a lot?”

“Too much, probably.”

“Oh well,” she plonks back down to the rug and continues shoving things into her case. “At least I know you’re having fun over here. I’d be worried you’re suffering.”

“Do you worry about that?”

“Kind of.”

I laugh gently. “No, Jenny. I’m not suffering. Things are good.”

She struggles with the zip, and it rasps lowly against the bulk. “I was worried I wouldn’t like your friends, you know. I’m glad I met them, because they’re amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wish they were my friends. Jonas is adorable. Elias too, so fun, and Dalia is probably the coolest girl I ever met in my life. I never got to ask her what part of America she comes from.”

“Pittsburgh.”

“I dunno where that is.”

“Nowhere close to where I grew up.”

“You sound different when you talk to her.”

Turning my head is an effort, and the room lurches a little. Later, I’ll probably be so dizzy that standing up feels like getting off the waltzers. “How so?”

“Your accent gets more American. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Well, it does. I suppose when you’re talking to someone from the states you kind of copy what they’re doing, or something. It’s just funny, because you weren’t like that at home.”

“With dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s not like I really talk to him, is it?”

She pauses thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve heard you say ‘okay’ to him a few times.”

“Hm,” I say. “Well, maybe I’ll lose my Irish accent while I’m here.”

“Would you like to?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

I shut my eyes in the hopes it will stave off the wave of dizziness that comes over me. My temples throb gently with the onset of a headache. I half listen as Jen goes on about how great my friends are, Jonas, Elias, Dalia. Perhaps she’s hoping I won’t notice who she has left out, but she is wrong. 

“What did you think of Astrid?” I say, and she pauses, just for a beat, before answering with enormous enthusiasm. 

“Oh, she’s gorgeous. You were right. Even better in person than in the pictures.”

“Yeah.” I roll on my side. “She’s incredible looking, I know, but… like, did you like her?”

“Of course I did.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s so nice.”

I hesitate. Astrid isn’t that nice. At least it’s not a word I would use to describe her ahead of something like intelligent, confident, shrewd. Out of all the traits she has that I admire, I couldn’t say her niceness is something that sticks out. It’s not important to me, and I require it from her. Nice isn’t untrue, exactly, but it's not a real answer.

“Your opinion is really important to me,” I say, and she busies herself in her backpack, double checking for her phone charger and passport. 

“No, I mean it,” she says distractedly. “She seems to care a lot about you, and that’s the main thing, you know what I mean?”

On my elbow now, I look at her, pulling things out of her bag and shoving them back in, and my anxiety rises. I wanted our dinner to go a little better, sure, and they could have hit it off more than they did, but Astrid is Astrid. She’s a tough nut to crack at the first meeting. It takes a while for her to warm up, to get comfortable. She takes some getting used to. 

“I know things were a bit awkward there, when we were talking about school, and she didn’t have anything to say and all that.”

She waves this off. “No, it’s fine. She didn’t have to say anything. I was more worried about whether we were annoying her by talking about it so much.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s alright, like, she doesn’t need to have the same humour as me.”

I frown. “Well, you and I have the same humour. In fact, we’re so alike that I thought you’d get along with her.”

“We got along.”

“But you weren’t bowled over.”

She sighs, “Jude, don’t make me talk myself into an awkward position.”

“I’m not doing that. I’m just wondering what you thought.”

“Yeah, but it’s like you’re not accepting my answer.”

“You haven’t answered.”

“I have. I said she’s nice.”

“Yeah, but like, ‘nice’ is a non-answer.”

“She’s not what I expected, right? But there’s nothing wrong with that. I just always thought you’d prefer to go out with a girl that laughed at the same things as you, or was silly and goofy, or, I don’t know, less… severe. I’ll meet Astrid again, and I’m sure I’ll be bowled over. We just didn’t have a lot of time to get to know each other. It was only a few hours, and, I dunno, Jonas was there too, and I was talking to him, mostly.”

“I–” I decide to ignore the first part about the girls I supposedly like. “Well, I hope so. I’d be pretty sad if my girlfriend and my best friend didn’t get along.”

“Everyone is friendly here.”

“Right.”

“I can tell you don’t believe me.”

I sigh reluctantly, and fall back onto the bed. My headache makes my brain slosh against the inside of my skull. “Jenny, I do. I believe you,” I say. “And I’m glad you like her. It’d be really fucking shit for me if you didn’t.”

“Well, I do.”

“I’m glad.”

“Good.”

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