#god too much shit to fuckin be considering on a sunday afternoon

[synchlora]

have to talk w my parents abt college oh no

[y0itsbri]

🍺, 🧑🏻‍🦰, 😠

benja! hello! thank you for the ask! 💘💘 (sorry these got kinda (very) long and some more fic-ish than hc-ish but i had fun with it)

🍺 - drunk headcanon

lately, debbie has been flooding the gallagher fam groupchat with pictures of cocktails and mixed drinks that she's been trying from the new lesbian bar she's been going to. carl tells her no one gives a shit, but she just tells him to fuck off. ian always sends a thumbs up emoji in response to the photos.

"wonder what's in that one," mickey pondered from their couch, zooming into the most recent picture like somehow the ingredients were written on an ice cube.

"looks like 1.5 oz empress gin, 4 oz ginger beer, juice of 1/2 a lime, 1/4 oz monin desert pear syrup, and mint, for garnish, of course," ian confidently rattled off.

mickey's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "the fuck are you? the lesbian drink whisperer?"

ian chuckled at the accusation, "found the recipe on pinterest. 's something called the prickly pear gin buck."

"on penny trust what now?"

"pinterest -- a website where you pin your interests," ian smirked like he was the most clever motherfucker on the planet.

"alright, fuckin' martha stewart over here."

"wanna make it sometime?"

"make what?"

"the 'lesbian' drink."

"nah, man, too fuckin' fruity and won't even get me drunk."

"yeah, well we're fucking fruity, mick."

mickey sent ian a death glare.

ian threw his hands up in mock surrender and a teasing glint, "alright, alright, but you like it sweet, so i bet you'd like it."

"yeah, i like your sweet ass alright, c'mere, dork."

--

"hey, mick, look what i got!"

"more toothpaste?"

"shit! i knew i was forgetting something... but, uh, no, i splurged on some things to make that drink debs sent that week."

ian looked so damn excited about this, he couldn't even make fun of him.

"double the gin. if i'm drinking it, i better get buzzed."

"done."

"and you're not tellin' fuckin' anyone about this."

ian paused too long.

"gallagher," mickey said sternly. gallagher. he wasn't messing around.

"aaaanyways, let's get it cookin', good lookin'."

-

for all it was worth, it was fucking delicious and mickey got more than a little buzzed. he woke up the next morning... or afternoon rather, with several notifications from the gallagher groupchat.

shit. he was gonna fuckin' murder ian.

ian had sent an artistic photo of the purplish drink topped with a mint garnish and another of mickey, blissfully unaware of the photo being taken while sipping his second? third? drink, cradling it dear.

deb: looks great guys! so good, right! 🥂

lip: mickey sure seems to think so huh? ;)

liam: mickey's gonna kill you for this, ian

carl: rip fly high bro 💀🕊️

-

despite the teasing from his brother-in-laws, mickey really did enjoy the drink and the excitement ian had putting it all together. debbie, ian, and mickey all start a new groupchat called 'gallabitches getting tipsy🍹' where they share all their new recipes without judgement. they later added tami to the group, not being able to drink during her pregnancy, but living vicariously through them.

👨‍🦰 - ian is tall and likes to manhandle headcanon

the only cabinet in the kitchen that's tall enough for their boxes of cereal is above the refrigerator. this is, of course, no problem to ian who is practically eye level with it. mickey, however, has a little more difficulty.

he thought he was alone in the kitchen, he had left ian finishing getting ready in the bathroom, when he wanted the goddamn lucky charms.

mickey ungracefully climbed on top of the countertop and acquired the beloved box of sugary cereal. right then, he noticed he'd been caught -- ian leaning against the kitchen wall, amused as all hell.

ian stalked over, "can't reach, baby?"

"got it just fine, thanks." but mickey didn't make any effort to get down.

"hey, you're finally taller than me, never thought i'd see the day."

"fuck off."

"hmmm, dunno if i like this," ian said, looking up at mickey, "might have to do something about it."

"yeah? whatcha gonna do about it, big guy?"

in a swift motion, ian nudged mickey's legs apart a bit and held them on either side of him. mickey threw the box of cereal god knows where, fuck the cereal, and complied, wrapping his legs around ian's torso and his arms around ian's neck.

"oh, you'll see."

😠 - jealous headcanon (also hi @gardenerian , here's a little bit of gardener ian content for you🍅)

ian starts bonding with one of his neighbors about their plants in the community garden at their apartment. mickey was totally on board with ian's rants about his tomatoes and peppers, but all mickey can hear lately is julie this and julie that.

-

"julie bought this new fertilizer for me to use on my plot! she said it'll double the amount of tomatoes we get this year!"

"fuckin' great."

ian frowned, "i thought you were excited about the garden."

"i am."

"then why doesn't it sound like that?"

"julie just sounds like she likes you a bit too much is all."

"julie?"

"yeah, man, buyin' you shit, now. why doesn't fucking julie just suck your dick while she's at it?"

"what the fuck are you going on about now, mick?"

"you don't even wear your ring down there! i bet the bitch is just trynna get in your pants."

"mickey."

"no, it's cool, i get it, whatever."

"mickey. i don't wanna lose the ring in all the fuckin' dirt, but i promise julie knows all about you -- about us."

"yeah?"

"of course," ian crowded mickey's space a bit, judging how much his husband was really mad at him. he tilted his head down, "come down there with me next sunday, yeah? there's nothing to worry about."

mickey considered for a moment. he would love to size the bitch up, even if he had to wake up a bit earlier.

"fine."

"mmmm, good."

--

the following sunday, true to plan, mickey followed ian down to his garden plot. he'd been down here before, of course, but never early enough to chat with julie. he couldn't see her now, though, just some white-haired old lady in a big hat with an orange cat perched on her lap.

"ian, darling, good morning!"

"hey julie, good to see you!" ian said smiling as he crouched down to pet the cat's head, "you too, george." the cat purred against his hand.

oh.

"this is my husband, mickey. he was finally up early this morning, so i made him tag along."

"oh, what a pleasure, dear," julie smiled warmly, "i've heard so much about you."

"uh, yeah, ditto." mickey definitely didn't expect this -- she was genuinely sweet. she kind of reminded him of his great aunt back in ukraine.

"remind me to give you boys my new recipe for lemon tarts..." she trailed off.

mickey sat himself on a red modern-style chair as the two chatted the latest drama of some pests on antonio's plants and how sarah hadn't been out in weeks to water.

julie nudged the cat off her lap as she gestured for ian to follow her to one of the flower beds. george made his way over to where mickey was sitting.

"they're some of the good ones, huh?" mickey addressed the cat.

george slow blinked in return as he flopped over on the pavement.

they basked in the early morning sun, watching ian water both his plot and julie's as they laughed about something he couldn't hear.

he smiled. he could get used to sunday mornings like this.

[yslkook]

#by the books (5)

#corporate masterlist

summary: seokjin helps you come to several epiphanies. you wrestle with your growing fondness with jungkook, while determining how to talk to him. word count: 5570 warnings: cursing, parental death, discussion of mental health, some alc a/n: this is part 2/3 of being in tokyo!

SUNDAY

Seokjin knows something is wrong when you don’t respond to his texts for over fourteen hours. It’s well into Sunday morning, closer to the afternoon, when he makes the executive decision to camp out outside your hotel room until you let him in. He knows you’ve been on your phone- you’ve been on Instagram. You’re just avoiding him, and probably the rest of the world. As you usually tend to do, when you’re upset.

You don’t know what to do. You’ve never yelled at someone the way you yelled at Jungkook last night, much less literally ran away from someone like that. Embarrassment colors your memories, internally cringing when you replay the night’s events in your mind. It plays like a movie, the same moment mocking you incessantly. Jungkook’s heartbroken, doe eyes haunt you- you’ve barely been able to sleep because you’ve struggled coming to terms with the fact that you put that look on his face.

The reflection in your mirror disgusts you. And yet, you still do nothing about it, burying yourself under the duvet and ignoring anything that wasn’t sleep. It’s easier that way.

Your phone rings again- it’s Jin. You ignore his call. That’s your first mistake. He nearly screeches your name outside the door to your hotel room, menacingly knocking on your door. He’s clearly on a mission to piss off everyone who had the bad luck to be staying in the hotel rooms adjacent to you.

“I’m sleeping,” You shout easily, your voice muffled from the comforter.

“Open the damn door,” Jin demands and you groan. He won’t stop until you let him in, much to your chagrin. You just want to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, is that too much to ask for?

So you finally force yourself out of the bed and drag your feet to the door. “You look like fuckin’ shit,” Jin remarks, taking in your bleary eyes and the permanent frown on your face.

“Thanks, Seokjin. Just what every girl wants to hear,” You mutter and burrow yourself in bed once more. Without a moment’s hesitation, he gets under the covers next to you, curling into your side. Like he’s done a million times before.

“Leave me alone, Jin,” You mumble, without any real heat in your voice, “Yuna wouldn’t like this. Your girlfriend wouldn’t like you to be in bed with another girl-”

“Shut up, stupid. You’re not just another girl,” Jin dismisses you, only tightening his hold around your waist.

“Go away,” You try again, rather weakly. Instead, you let your hand sit on top of his. You both lay together in silence like that for a while. His presence always calms you down, brings you back up a few notches.

“I did something awful last night,” You finally say, voice hoarse from disuse.

“What did you do?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I yelled at Jungkook in front of my favorite ice cream shop… and then ran away from him.”

“What did you yell at him for?”

You tell him- you tell him how he told you he couldn’t keep up with you, how he called you his dream girl, how you screamed at him that your dad died and that you dropped out of school because you couldn’t handle it, how just seeing Jungkook reminded you of when you were happier.

“I’m such a fuckin’ idiot, Jin,” You mutter, pressing your face further into your pillow, “A-and how can he say I was his dream girl, I’m just such an-”

“Shh,” Jin says, muffling your mouth with his hand. Once you stop your self-deprecating train of thought, he pulls his hand away. Jin lays with you in silence once more, only running a hand over your upper arm to soothe you.

“Let’s go get lunch,” Jin suggests and he already hears the protest about to erupt from your lips, “You look like shit and I know you haven’t eaten. Go shower and wear something new. I’ll wait.”

You groan before forcing yourself out of the bed and dragging your feet into the bathroom. Jin rolls his eyes when you shoot a death glare in his direction. Jin was right- the hot water against your skin was soothing. You welcomed the stinging of the water as it pelted your skin with open arms. Feeling a little better coming out of the shower than you did going into the shower, you change into day clothes.

“Lookin’ better already,” Jin says, pulling you into a side hug.

Why is Jin friends with you, when you can’t stand yourself some days? You don’t know what he sees in you. Not when you seem to hurt everyone around you, so selfishly, as if it’s second nature.

But he keeps you close to him, his arm tight around your shoulder and those thoughts don’t throb in your mind as much as they usually do.

Jin sits across from you in a small, quiet ramen shop. You’re in a corner, away from most of the other patrons. There’s only four other people here, including the waitress. Jin says nothing about your outburst at Jungkook from the night before, only noisily slurping his ramen and then screeching with he bites his lip accidentally.

“You eat too fast,” You admonish, shaking your head when he rubs his bottom lip gingerly. Jin immediately takes his phone out to take a selfie and sends it to Yuna, claiming that he needs a kiss to make it better. You roll your eyes fondly and smile at him.

Puppy love is cute on him.

“So,” Jin finally says and your heart races. His tone has instantly shifted to a little more quiet, a little more serious.

“What do I do, Jin?” You whisper, shoulders slumping and avoiding his eyes, “He didn’t know. The kid didn’t know why I left, that Appa died- a-and I don’t know why he’s so hung up over it either. ‘Snot like we were friends like that back then anyway… God, Jin, you should’ve seen the look on his face before I ran away, like a fuckin’ coward.”

You hold your head in your hands above your half finished bowl of ramen and groan. “What a mess. I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

“Jungkook considered you friends back then,” Jin says slowly, “As far as I know, at least. I mean, I remember him being excited to see you every week for those mentor mentee sessions. And how grateful he was when you pulled him away from mean girls. He’s sensitive, you remember at least that much, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” You laugh despite your misery, “Used to call him Bambi back in the day. He’d get so flustered. But… I just- like, I told him it hurt too much to even look at him. Because he reminded me of when I was happy. Who fuckin’ does that?”

“But are you happy now?” Jin asks bluntly, slurping another mouthful of noodles.

“I don’t… know,” You murmur, “I think I can be.”

“Happy isn’t a constant thing. You won’t be happy all the time, the same way you won’t be sad all the time. But the last few years have been so hard. Let yourself be happy, sweetheart,” Jin says, reaching over to squeeze your hand, “Happy back then doesn’t have to be the same as happy now.”

“How do I just be happy?” You wonder out loud, making a mental note to talk to your therapist about this.

“I don’t know, but for starters, talk to Jungkook. He considered you both friends. You hurt his feelings when you left without a word. And he’s hurt now. And… I know you spent a long time blocking out the last few years, blocking out all of the bad. But there was some good, too.”

“Can’t believe he called me his dream girl. What does he know?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest but you feel a little lighter.

“You gonna tell me you didn’t like that?” Jin asks smugly.

“I didn’t!” You protest unconvincingly. Jin says nothing, only eyeing you with a knowing smile.

“You’re fooling no one. Eat your ramen, stupid.”

And so you do, the spicy broth curling in your belly as if it’s your home.

It feels like it’s been too long since you had spoken to Grandma, so you call her the minute you and Jin part ways. You tell her about the events of the past few days- how you had met up with friends you hadn’t seen in years. And how you had screamed at Jungkook undeservedly-

“I miss Appa,” You mumble, eyes watering, “He would be so upset with me. For the way I’ve been acting. Like he never existed, never talking about him…”

“He’d just want you to be happy, honey,” Grandma says kindly, “And to forgive yourself. To allow yourself to love and be loved.”

And then you cry some more. Grandma does, too.

Later, when you drive Jin, Jimin and Hoseok to the airport, all three of them wrap you up in tight hugs. As if you wouldn’t be in the same city as them in less than 48 hours. You promise to keep in touch with Jimin and Hoseok. Maybe they believe you, because they both hug you again with bright smiles.

MONDAY

Today’s the day. It’s the day that the Seoul team meets the Tokyo team face to face for the first time. Excitement brims in your blood- you’re certain that you have a lot to learn from this team. They’ve been a part of more submissions than your smaller team had been, and it had been a big surprise that Namjoon was named as the main lead of the project. But he was more than capable, as he had shown in the last few months.

The Tokyo team consists of Lisa, Irene, Minhyuk and they’re led by Mark. Mark, who you’ve known for about as long as you’ve been with the company. He had started with you in Seoul, in the same position and had quickly moved up in the ladder. Which seems to be the case for a lot of people, namely men, around you. He had actually beat you out for the job that he currently had. It had left a sour taste in your mouth for a long time- what did he have that you didn’t? But slowly, with time, you had gotten over it. After all, the job was in Tokyo, and you don’t think you were ready for that kind of move at the time. Everything happens for a reason, or so they say.

The company office in Tokyo is a little older than the one in Seoul- after all, the Seoul office had been recently renovated. If there was a word to describe the Seoul office, it was sleek and modern. You quite liked it.

Minhyuk had picked you, Jungkook, Sana and Namjoon up in the lobby to take you to the conference room that you would be working in. He’s a chatterbox, telling you about the history of the building, how long he’s been with the company and how grateful he is to be part of this team.

Jungkook tunes him out, nodding when needed and asking questions when appropriate. He casts his eyes over to you despite himself. You had put on a little more makeup today than usual, trying to conceal the puffiness of your eyes. Not that Jungkook could tell. He thinks you’re pretty. And the way you chew on your glossy bottom lip as you listen to Minhyuk- he thinks you’re cute, too.

You’re hyper aware of Jungkook’s presence next to you as you walk through the hallways and finally reach the conference room. He sits across from you, and for the first time since Saturday night, you allow yourself the luxury of looking at him. Despite a room full of new faces, the only person you want to look at is him. His dark hair is softly tousled over his forehead, barely there dimples dotted in his cheeks when he smiles at his new team members.

His gaze is transfixed on Mark and Namjoon, as they introduce themselves formally to each other and the rest of the team respectively. Mark’s eyes brighten when he sees you, but he keeps it professional, only shaking your hand with a smile that borders on a smirk.

Irene and Lisa eye you almost warily, until you introduce yourself to them with a warm handshake and a warm smile. You’ve been told you have an intimidating persona when people first meet you- in fact, your boss is the one who always tells you to smile more. What a jerk.

Mark and Namjoon both present on the mission and the objectives of the submission, and then what each individual team will be responsible for. You take a sip of your coffee, and cast your eyes around the room. Irene, Lisa, Sana and Minhyuk are intently listening to Mark and Namjoon and taking notes. While you’re staring at Jungkook.

And he’s staring back at you.

You pull your eyes away first, heart doing almost painful somersaults in your chest. You don’t mind being caught at staring at him, but you just feel like there is so much you need to say to him.

Like apologize. You need to apologize for unloading and dumping on him when he didn’t ask for it. But then, his smile fades and his doe eyes are sad. Because of you. It’s all because of you.

You and Namjoon present your slides for your team’s plan going forward, with details on the timelines and deliverables. Jungkook and Sana will be working on the logistics piece to organize another face-to-face workshop, and for the next one, the Tokyo team will come to Seoul.

Despite the heat of Jungkook’s gaze on you, you speak clearly and confidently. Jungkook loves the sound of your voice, the way it floats out into the room and wraps itself around him comfortingly.

Even when you had yelled at him outside of the ice cream shop, about how your Appa had died, about dropping out of school, and about how seeing him reminded you of when you were happy… Even then, he could never wince at the sound of your voice.

Jungkook was pissed that nobody had told him- that he had gone this long thinking so selfishly about you. He could have never have fathomed the gravity of your circumstance. He had yelled at Jimin the next day, but Jimin had only yelled back at him-

“She dropped off the face of the earth! She wanted nothing to do with us and it was her thing to tell!”

“So she was all alone that whole time? Because you all thought it was her thing to tell?”

“Don’t act like you’re better than all of us just because you didn’t know! You and I didn’t reconnect until recently, how was I supposed to tell you? And we tried to reach out to her. She shut us out, literally. What could we do if she ignored us for five fuckin’ years?”

You were alone. With your Grandma and with Seokjin. But still, alone, and possibly thinking that nobody was checking on you. Even if there is truth to Jimin’s words, Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s too late. If he had known…. Well, what would he have done?

This crush of his feels more and more childish as days go by. And yet, when you look at him, the way you’re looking at him now. With softness lined in your irises, he can’t help it.

He can’t help but look back at you. Maybe you can see his apology in his face.

“Hi,” A voice comes from your left side. You’re at the coffee bar, refilling your second cup of coffee before noon. His voice is reserved, almost shy. Your heart seizes up immediately at the sound of it.

“Morning, Jungkook,” You say breathlessly, grateful for the coffee cup in your hand for something to hold on to. To channel your nervous energy into.

“Morning,” Jungkook says softly, “Can I talk to you later? Maybe after the happy hour?” He asks, hope shining in his voice and sparkling in his eyes.

No- it was supposed to be you who would reach out to apologize. After all, you were the one who had screamed in his face and ran away. He’s probably only reaching out out of pity, you think cynically. Nevertheless, it throws you off.

And apparently, since you’re the keeper of bad decisions, your response to him is predictable. Despite every synapse in your heart screaming at you to say something else.

“Uh. I don’t think I’m going to the happy hour. I’m not really feeling great,” The lie blooms from your painted lips easily. His face falls and you pretend like your heart doesn’t ache over his doe eyes.

“Oh, okay. Feel better,” Jungkook says and you give him a barely there smile, passing him to head back in the conference room.

A headache is beginning to brew in the back of your head. It’s the last thing you need.

Why does it bother you that Jungkook had been the one to reach out to you first, rather than the other way around? After all, you were the one who caused a scene. What reason does he have to want to talk to you? If anything, you’re the one who needs to apologize, right?

You stare at the shifting trees in front of you, hoping that if you stare hard enough, the leaves will whisper an answer to you.

Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe he just is that good, to want to speak to you just because.

You’ve been sitting here, at Appa’s park, for the better part of an hour. You’re hoping for an epiphany, or some type of sign. It feels strange that Jungkook is weighing so heavily on your mind. You’re not used to this feeling.

A whistle of wind rustles through the collar of your thin jacket, curling around you in comfort. With a loud exhale, you stand up from your bench.

“Oh, fine. I’ll go to the stupid happy hour,” You scoff into the sky. As if the sky can hear your complaining. And so you turn on your heel and leave the park, begrudgingly making your way to the happy hour venue.

Usually, showing up to work events like this alone was a breeze. It was easy for you to think about these things as just being something to check off in your list of things to do for the day. You stayed to say your hellos and made some small talk before leaving, all within an hour.

But today feels different. Your carefully put together nerves are beginning to fray at the seams. You take a deep breath before swinging the door open to enter the bar. Namjoon and Mark had rented out a corner of the bar for your teams to have your own space. High tables of appetizers and drinks surrounded the bustling voices of your teammates.

Your hands are inadvertently balled into tense fists. This place is littered with people and still, you feel so alone. You wish Jin was here. You wish Jin was here.

Jungkook sees the crown of your head the minute you walk into the bar, even with the dimmed lighting. He had been sulking before, barely interested in the conversation that he had forced himself into under the pretense of ‘networking’. Not that anyone would be able to tell- Jungkook has mastered the art of making it seem like he was present. He would never jeopardize an invaluable opportunity like this, and he’s never been one to allow others to surpass him in settings like this. He knows what the stakes are. But he’s become adept in the art of multitasking.

Your lips are pursed, eyes darting across each side of the room. It feels overwhelming, like too much. Maybe you shouldn’t have come…

You cross your arms and dig your nails into your cloth covered bicep nervously. Before you can calm the thudding of your heart in your ears, you turn your head and see Jungkook walking towards you with a smile.

You can’t help but smile back.

“Jungkook,” You exhale, “Hi.”

“You came,” Jungkook says, eyes crinkling at the sight of you. Has he always had those deep laugh lines around his eyes when he smiled? For a second, you’re breathless but you break his gaze, not wanting to let your eyes linger over the rest of him for too long. At the risk that you’ll be sucked into his warm, brown whirlpools.

“Yeah,” You say faintly. Jungkook can sense your nervousness- you can’t help your eyes darting around you at the number of people surrounding you.

“Wanna get a drink with me?” Jungkook asks, gesturing towards the bar with a flick of his fingers.

“Really? You wanna get a drink with me?” You ask incredulously, with a raise of your eyebrow. How could he possibly want to spend time with you, when you had treated him the way you had?

“It’s on Namjoon and Mark’s company card,” Jungkook shrugs and you laugh. He leads you towards the bar. There are a few people seated at the navy blue leather bar stools surrounding the bar, a few of them eyeing Jungkook curiously. It doesn’t surprise you- he looks good in a form fitting black turtleneck and black slacks. Rings adorn his fingers and small hoops sit in his earlobes, a soft smile peeling across his face when he looks at you.

Yeah. You’d stare at him, too. If you didn’t have the fortune to know him.

“What can I get you?” Jungkook asks, relaxing with his elbow on the bar top.

“You mean what can Namjoon and Mark get us?” You say, pulling a laugh from him. Your heart sings at the sweet sound. “Hmm… I’ll have wine, I guess.”

“Red or white?”

“White?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Jungkook teases and your cheeks heat up.

“Telling you! I’ll have a… chardonnay,” You reply, turning your head towards the bar so he can’t see how flustered you are. But he does, and he pockets the information for later.

Once Jungkook orders two glasses of chardonnay for both of you and you’re both holding the wine glasses in your hands, you gently clink your glass with him. It makes you a little nervous, how easily you find yourself talking to him. How comfortable you feel around him, as if you were old friends. As if you hadn’t been so mean to him only the night before.

You don’t know him well. But you remember that he’s always had a big heart, offering his forgiveness to those who didn’t deserve it. Would you ruin him? But maybe a little selfishly, you want to chase this feeling.

“I went to this park earlier,” You murmur, swirling your wine in your glass, “It’s really pretty and quiet. I used to go there all the time when I was younger.”

“You’ve been to Tokyo before?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah,” You nod, “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid and spend summers here with Appa. Sometimes Grandma, too. Appa taught me Japanese from when I was really young, it’s probably why I’m even on this team…”

“That’s not true, you’re on this team because you’re really smart and good at what you do! And I know Namjoon values your opinion a lot-” Jungkook protests, an annoyed furrow in his brow. Is that really what you think of yourself?

You laugh and give him a grateful smile. With a breath of seemingly transient courage, you part your lips- “Jungkook,” Your voice is soft and small and nothing like what he’s used to, “I want to-”

And then you’re both interrupted by both Sana and Namjoon slinging their arms around your shoulders. Jungkook gives you a reassuring smile, a promise that you’ll talk later. You wonder if you’ll lose your courage by then.

Namjoon pulls you away from Jungkook and Sana, introducing you to some people that you’ve never met. You recognize them as higher ups, Hyo-Jin, the head of submissions for all of Asia and Hae-ri, the head of business development. The realization makes you take a few generous sips of your wine and straighten your back.

You can hear Jin’s voice in your head, telling you to make a good impression. Namjoon easily pulls you into the conversation, giving you plenty of opportunity to insert yourself in-

“She’s my right hand woman, though I don’t think even that is a good enough term to tell you what she is to me,” Namjoon says. Compliments like that always fluster you, and this time is no different.

“Namjoon speaks too highly of me,” You brush him off, “I’m just glad I have this opportunity, I mean being on the submissions team has always been one of my favorite parts of the job.”

“Oh? Do you see a future for yourself in submissions?” Hyo-Jin asks curiously, with a quirk of an elegant eyebrow. She’s a no nonsense woman, you can tell just from the five minutes you’ve had with her.

“I definitely want to lead submissions teams one day. I mean, Namjoon is a great teacher,” You grin, elbowing him, “But even more than that… I’d like to oversee an entire product line end to end later down the line. And I think it’s important to invest in our young talent, too-”

“Young talent? As in people development?” Hyo-Jin asks.

“Yeah, I mean they’re our future leaders, aren’t they? It’s important that they have the tools to succeed now and beyond,” You say vehemently.

Hyo-Jin says nothing, only nodding and taking a sip of her drink. “And you? Do you have the tools to succeed now and beyond as a future leader?”

The question makes you stumble. Do you throw your boss under the bus? But you’ve never been a liar, and you sure as hell won’t start now.

“No,” You say bluntly, “I’ve learned so much with Namjoon and being part of this team. And in general being part of regulatory and submissions projects. But I don’t think my skill set is being effectively used in my current role. If you want an honest answer.”

You can practically hear Jin scolding you from far away. But you won’t build a professional relationship on a fallacy. To your surprise, Hyo-Jin smiles.

“That’s refreshing,” She says, her painted lips splitting into a smile.

“What is?” You ask, feeling rather stupid.

“Your honesty,” Hae-ri chimes in, “People aren’t always honest with us, because of our titles. Like they have something to prove.”

“Yeah, well, maybe people are rightfully more concerned about making a good first impression than I am,” You joke, gripping the handle of your wine glass tighter. Hyo-Jin and Hae-ri both laugh with you, telling you to put time on their calendars to meet with them virtually when you go back to South Korea after the trip. With that, they both slip away from you, making sure you know that they appreciated your presence. And then you let out a breath.

“Holy shit. I fucked that up,” You mutter, “My boss is going to kill me, Joon. What the hell is wrong with me-”

“Relax,” Namjoon says easily, his dimples on display, “They loved you. Trust me, they loved you. They already knew who you were, you know.”

“What? How could they possibly know who I was?” You gasp incredulously, “I’m a nobody!”

“Seokjin’s right. For someone so smart, you’re dumb-”

“Hey! That’s unprofessional of you,” You say, but a smile threatens your lips.

“They never tell anyone to put time on their calendars unless they like them. So just trust me. And this submission has the eyes of all of the higher ups. Our good work doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“I just,” You sigh, “I’m used to it going unnoticed. So I guess… Thank you. For your leadership, your guidance… and your friendship.”

He smiles at you brightly and clinks his glass with you. “C’mon, let’s go find Mark.”

Jungkook can’t help but cast his eyes in your direction every so often. He knew, he knew you were about to say something poignant at the bar. All of the signs were there- your serious eyes, the way you forced yourself to look him in the face, the barely there nervousness that he could taste.

It seems that everyone suddenly wants a piece of you- you flit around with Namjoon, taking it all in as he introduces you to people. Jungkook is beyond happy for you, that you’re finally getting the recognition you deserve from the company.

But still, he can’t help but crave just a minute alone with you. Especially when he sees Mark’s face light up at the sight of you, pulling you into a too-friendly hug. And you don’t even realize it, it seems. Only offering him a smile in return, surprise coloring your face when he hugs you so tightly.

Jungkook tries his best to stay present in the conversation he’s in, with Sana and a few other members of the Tokyo team. But he has such a nice view of you that he can’t help his eyes drifting every so often. He can’t help noticing the way your pink pants sit on your hips, and the way your black blouse is tucked into them. More than that though, he can’t help noticing Mark noticing.

Do you know? That Mark sees you in that light? He’s so obvious about it, and yet. It seems like you’re oblivious.

Namjoon eventually excuses himself from both of you, claiming that he can hear Sana calling for him. You think nothing of it, shrugging and continuing your conversation with Mark.

“Hey, you did great today,” Mark compliments, stepping just a hair closer to you.

“Oh! Thanks, I know,” You wink at him, “I have a great team, I mean it.”

“Well,” Mark says, taking a sip of his soju, “You’re pretty great, too.”

“Oh, stop,” You wave him off with a roll of your eyes, “You don’t need to butter me up, Mark. Save it.”

“C’mon, you know I mean it. We’ve been through a lot, you and I,” Mark says with a crooked sort of grin. You understand why people fawn over him, that smile could get anyone to do anything but you roll your eyes.

“Have we, Mark?” You ask dryly.

“We go way back,” He says self-assuredly, almost cockily.

“No, we don’t,” You mumble under your breath, and he hears you. You subtly take a step back from him, turning on your side. Only to find Jungkook already looking at you.

“You wound me,” Mark murmurs, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. You roll your eyes, but still give him the same grin. It’s polite, nothing more, nothing less.  

The way Mark looks at you teeters on the edge of something more than friendly professionalism. It’s clear that you both have known each other for a while. Maybe through work? Maybe something else? It bothers Jungkook, and he knows it shouldn’t. Especially when Mark leaves you for a minute, only to return with a refill of your wine.

An irritating ember settles in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach. Perhaps he has an ulcer, he thinks dryly.

Mark has your phone number, from other projects you’ve worked with him on. He does text you every so often, maybe once every few months. You’ve never thought much of it, only responding to him out of obligation since he is your colleague and technically your superior. You don’t think it’s malicious- he’s always been a charmer. Even when you first met him when you first started at the company.

By the time you manage to shake yourself of Mark, Jungkook has disappeared. How long has it been since you’ve been here? You look outside of the windows quickly, taking in the darkness of the sky and the moon hanging from it.

“Hey, you ready to head back to the hotel?” Namjoon asks, Sana already in her coat next to him.

“Yeah, where’s Jungkook?” You ask, craning your neck to see the top of his fluffy hair.

“He left a bit ago. Said he wasn’t feeling well,” Sana says, fastening the buttons on her coat. The bitter pill of regret settles in your belly. How ironic that he had left happy hour saying he wasn’t feeling well, when that had been your excuse to not attend.

So still, even when you are in your hotel room after the happy hour, changed in your pajamas and about to watch a show to end your night, you think nothing of it when Mark texts you later that night:

Mark: it was good to see you tn :)

Despite Mark’s name lighting up your phone, you feel an ache in your heart. Over the fact that you hadn’t had the chance to speak to Jungkook. He’s somewhere in this hotel, and you could, you really could just ask Namjoon his room number and talk to him. But the bolt of courage from earlier seems to have fizzled out long ago.

So you text Mark back instead. Thinking nothing of it.

[shesawriter39049]

|ROLL DEEP|M| P.1

                 *Yoongi centered fic with a shared OT7 plot*

CH.1.1   CH. 1.2

**Operation: What’s eating blue!?***

_________________________________________________________

“Stop, this stopped being a you, thing and became a us thing  the minute we chose to show up here tonight! You gave us an out and we stayed...we will always stay...”

1.2 K Sneak Peek

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Sugar baby AU/Suspense/Smut/Angst/Roomate AU/FWB AU

WC: 7K

Nonsexual Warnings: Mentions of drug use (Molly/weed/)Strong language/ Alcohol addictions/ brief mentions/ speculations of domestic violence/abuse

Sexual Warnings: Oral (M & F receiving) power bottom Min Yoongi, cum play, breath play, spanking, dirty talk, Slight overestimation, sex toys (Cock rings....) Semi-public sex (A chill little blow job in the car) The sexual warnings are for both parts of CH.1 so the smut is split in half!

NOTE:  Just to clarify the dynamic Yoongi and the OC are roommates who hookup on the side, they are BOTH sugar babies to two separate people! So yes, that would imply that Yoongi and some of the other boys who are also sugar babies are Bi. There is no MxM but there is mentions of it occasionally….as well as some harmless ot7 flirting! Also all of the boys are introed, Tae and Joon just play a lager part here!

_______________________________________________

I guess, fuck where do we even start? Maybe, will go back to where it all technically started, which was the last time things felt...somewhat normal yeah?

So, that would be...hmm...about 2 weeks shy of you heading into Junior year at USC right? The day your boys picked you up at the airport, and the three of your treated Blue, aka TaeTae to brunch!?

Well, wait let’s back track a little it all started much eariler than that, because you weren’t even aware of your brunch plans until later in the day. So Initially the day in question kicks of with you, in oversized blacked out CHLOE shades, hungover as fuck, sat in at the airport one Sunday afternoon. Smack dab in the middle of Terminal 6, in a bar called Blu2o sipping on a Bloody Mary, scrolling aimlessly through Snapchat. While simotaniously being told for the very first time ...that you’ll be attending a “Haute Couture”  themed charity auction...on Tuesday! Yup,  the day after tomorrow! Thank god he can’t see your damn face right now, biting down on your straw to muzzle yourself!

“No, babe it’s fine, I’ll just hit Rodeo tomorrow morning, and I’m sure my nail and lash girl can fit me-Oh you...haven’t gotten... what ...your wearing either?” Parroting the words back In slow motion as if it would make the words sound better or something!

Oh for fucks sake! Bringing your forehead flush to the marble bartop already feeling a full blown migraine brewing at the nape of your neck. Giving yourself a couple moments to self compose, this man is so damn unorganized it’s unfucking real. His personal assistant better be the 2nd highest paid person within his entire company because…..This is far from new, I don’t even know why your suprised and I’d say you don’t get paid enough for this....but ya do! So you suck it up, lose the attitude and slip right into your “Yes sir” or maybe I should say ‘Yes daddy” voice.

“Don’t worry about it, I know your busy. I totally get it, your a 28 waist right? Of course, I remember...I remember everything you tell me….Ohhh your gonna let me put you in color too???” Eyes flickering up to the notification from your bank, noting a cute little 12k wire pending.

“Yeah, no, I see it, that should be good. I was thinking Versace or Cavili for you anyway...they have good prints to fit the theme, and if all else fails I have my card too…yup..just landed about..hmm... 30 minutes ago actually. Of course, stop apologizing, Sunday's are always your golf days, I get it, hey, tell the guys I said hi and enjoy your day. Text me later if you feel up to it..k....bye..”

Were you actually getting a little flustered there towards the end? It's the slight accent, isn't it? Honestly, it didn't take much for you to slip into “character” with him, even after barely being together a full month. For one he wasn’t an asshole, had a decent sense of humor, and he’s really fuckin hot...however there was one, little, well shit, not so little issue...you noticed while with him recently. Which, then sparked quite a few questions while also answering some that had been rattling through your head since the day you met. But will circle back to the fact that you spent a week on vacation with a man, while dressed in some of the sexiest pieces of 2019 couture! Yet..you barely got touched once outside of a couple chaste kisses and hand-holding while at the two fashion shows you attended together… so, yeah, yeah!

A low groan in frustration rattled from your throat as you continued scrolling through Snapchat, trying to come up with some possible outfit scenarios in your head! It’s kinda funny, how mynute all of that seems now though, how your definition of “Stress” that day was you trying to decide if your sugar daddy was gay, while also  finding time to fit in a self-care day, shopping, and getting your books for school!!  The fact that, that was what you considered migraine worthy, fuck, what you wouldn’t give to consider multitasking your only maltitude of “stress” again …..

Just in your own little world, mind swirling with a couple of stylists you’ve met along the way, considering the idea of them pulling some vintage pieces for you instead!  What you should be doing, is scrolling through your contact list and texting said stylists, instead you find yourself more and more distracted.  Getting lost in the mounds of snap updates from Jimin as he “modestly” sunbathed in a private villa in Italy. Then later sharing a glimpse into his shopping spree from Versace, no doubt a good 20k worth of Italian luxury spread out along the plush white sheets. Sending him a cheeky little “That’s my boy” with a couple of smug winky faces in response!

It’s still kinda crazy to think, things like that are considered normal within your world now, the fact that you aren’t even surprised at the number of gifts. Or, simply the fact that your barley 21-year-old best friend is sunbathing in Italy on someone else’s dime. Then again, you just got sent 12 thousand dollars to spend on an event that would last maybe all of 5 hours, while sitting next to a stack of Louis Vuittion luggage from your first class flight in from Vegas, technically. Opting to land there first after a long 15-hour flight, checking in at The Four Seasons for not even a solid 24 hours before coming home! Honestly?There was no real reason for the pit stop except it gave you an excuse to see a friend while also allowing you to unwind in one of your favorite hotels!

That sentence alone is actually absurd when you really think about it, the idea of you casually booking flights and suites in 5-star hotels as if you’re ordering off the damn dollar menu at Mcdonalds! You, the girl that was working two jobs at the Groove and mourning a piece of shit cheating ex boyfriend her freshman year of college.....is now reminiscing about catching flights to chill with friends and last minute finding dresses for Couture themed galas.Like, what the actual fuck is life.... Oh my bad, life at the moment is constantly being paranoid that you and your friends will get arrested! Life in this moment however...was a fucking perfect!

The friend you where meeting in Vegas was Hoseok by the way, the redhead was currently vacationing in Sin City for the next couple of days, typically residing in LA as well. Just Chillin’ before the semester starts, living his best life, which revolves around “OFF-WHITE'' shopping sprees, private dance lessons, and constantly taking thirst trap pics for his 10’s of thousands of followers online. He randomly texts you saying “I miss your face” you text him saying “I land at 8 tonight bring a bottle and sushi to room 605 at The Four Seasons hotel '' Simple!

Your initial flight, the one that was 15 hours, was originally from Paris, where you spent the last week or so with Jeong-su, being arm candy, sipping wine, sightseeing and of course shopping!. Barley 32 hours ago your Snapchat looked pretty damn similar, if not worse in comparison to Jimin’s but what can I say, you can’t be in the home of Givenchy and Gaulthier and not go to Givenchy and Gaultier!

What your life is, what you and your friends do, I mean, I think it’s safe to say it’s pretty self-explanatory yeah? The average 20 something-year-old in college isn't flying themselves out of the country or going luxury shopping without a little help. In your case, it’s typically thanks to a person you commonly refer to as “Daddy” now, the context behind the word however….is where you and your friends may differ from others…..

But that’s your business, your concern and more importantly your choice, and honestly for a while life seemed too damn good to be true...I guess looking back on it now, I guess that’s because it kinda was!

Sat at the predominantly empty bar alone, more than content by the silence, twirling your straw between your lips, as you scanned back over the shit show that was your schedule for the semester! Getting more of a migraine from that, then shopping or even the fact that you're still hungover and drinking on an empty stomach at half-past 12. Shooting a quick text to your redheaded best friend cursing him out for getting you drunk off your ass on a bottle of Yamazaki 12.

“Can I get anything else for you beautiful? Another drink or maybe an appetizer? We have damn good loaded queso fries if I do say so myself!” Waving the menu in your face playfully, the warm, inviting voice in front of you was the bartender, who’s had his eye on you since you swayed in. Even if you looked like crap for your standards you knew to most you were the farthest thing from it as you swayed into the bar like you owned the place. In your heels, and tiny little black dress, while an airport assistant trolied in your luggage behind you! Ohhh Blair  Waldorf would without a doubt be proud!

“Mmmm…” Lips pursed in a slight pout as you raked over the menu, honestly, you were hungry and they have bomb ass fried pickles…..”Actually, yeah, I’ll get-”

“ 3 tall shots of whatever top-shelf Tequila you have, also add whatever she’s been drinking to my tab, along with an order of fried pickles with extra ranch…please and thank you!” Smoothly sliding his black card, and ID across the marble bartop for review.

Oh.

The look on the bartender’s face was fucking priceless, torn between shitting himself and maybe….nah, just straight shitting himself! Skin flushed, the sense of panic was clear as day,  wondering if he’d overstepped that fine line between customer service and filtration. Considering whoever the person behind you is, clearly knows you well enough to know your food order. A forced bashful smile playing along his lips as he bowed out in acknowledgment, sliding the gentelmen back is ID and whispering out a faint “Yes sir, coming right up…”

The base vibrating through your ears instantly had you readjusting your posture, a strong tingle running down your spine, back arching ever so slightly. A playful smirk playing along your lips as you slowly laced your tongue back around your staw, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You sure you wanna do that? My tastes are pretty expensive..” Tone blatantly flirtatious, yet you still hadn’t bothered to even turn around, that’s when suddenly you hear a deep arrogant chuckle rumbling low in his chest. Only...this sounds a little brighter? And like it’s coming from your left instead of behind you…

“Mmm, I’m sure we can handle it baby….”

You could feel the air shift behind you, it felt warmer, and there was a strong mix of scents flooding through your nose. Leaning back in your seat, pleasantly finding your shoulders, the back of your neck, and your head, cradled against a lean wall of silk. Sighing contently, naturally letting your body melt into his frame, nose running into your face as you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. That’s when a gangle of veiny, porcelain limbs wrapped around your shoulders pulling you even tighter against him, only to find brown, sharp, cat-like eyes staring down at you, though a pair of translucent designer shades. Seemingly a little bit amused at how excited you are to see him. Long dark wavy locks falling messily into his face, a tiny silver hoop dawning his button nose. Tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, letting the tiny silver ball slip between his lips. This angle lets you really appreciate how sharp, yet soft his features were, an oxymoron that honestly makes no damn sense unless you see him in person….jawline sharp enough to cut glass yet he has the cutest cheeks ever when he smiles. It honestly makes no sense whatsoever and he’s one of the many reasons you have trust issues. Well, that and your line of work, considering the number of men you find out are married and still try and sneak around with you.

Then, as if to just make his presence known, there’s another pair of hands making their home along your body, gently squeezing your thigh. Except, he’s polar opposite to the person I just described, the man behind you is your roommate Yoongi, the man who just took a seat to your left, is your other roommate Namjoon! First off, he’s tall as all hell, and an offensively perfect shade of brown, he can’t even go into the burbs without being asked what self-tanner he uses. In which he smugly replies “Genetics” letting them sit there and try and google said company that makes that brand of self-tan. Streams of meticulously placed colored neo-traditional tattoos paint his skin, accompanied by deep dimples, and bleach blonde hair styled into an undercut, sides buzzed into the perfect fade.

“So you gonna get up and give me a real hug or what???”  Placing a kiss in your hair as he pulled back, giving you room to hop out of your seat and right into his arms.

The Full thing is coming soon, this is from summer 2019, I just have to edit, and reread the full thing again! I also wrote the first 3 parts all at once..sooo if your exicted show this some love anddddddddd come let me know!

Love you as always,

Rocki

[yourmandevine]

Some stuff that made me happy in 2020, in no particular order

God send you no greater loss. It’s something my grandmother said a lot — a bit of highly Irish Catholic wisdom intended to remind you, warmly but sharply, that whatever you’re currently suffering through isn’t all that bad compared to what lots of other people are dealing with. That it probably isn’t too much to complain about, in the grand scheme of things. That you should, instead, be grateful for what you’ve got, big and small and everything in between.

God sent a great many people a great many unfathomable losses this year, and as hard as it felt at times, our family wasn’t among them; we’re lucky, in the big picture. In the past, people have recommended I try writing those reasons down, to give myself a list of stuff to be thankful for, for the times it’s tough to summon up the gratitude. I figured the end of the year was as good a time as any to make that list, to highlight the stuff that helped me get through this year — the reasons big, small, and in between.

So: here goes.

Peanut butter and jelly

I haven’t counted how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I’ve eaten since March 11, which is good, because that would be an absurd thing to do, and a sure sign that I have succumbed to a very specific kind of madness. It’s also good, though, because I would undoubtedly be ashamed by the number; the figure would be titanic, like the unsinkable ship of same name, or the iceberg that sunk it.

Or, at least, I would be ashamed under normal circumstances. This fuckin’ year required whatever flotation device you could find, and you know what I found in the fridge and cupboard? A couple of slices of bread, some strawberry jam, and some goddamn Skippy.

Need a weird mid-morning “brunch” after not having breakfast because you went right from waking up to remote school with the 6-year-old? Crank up a PB&J with that third cup of coffee. Need to pack something in the diaper bag to feed everyone while you’re out at the playground for the afternoon? Stack ‘em up, son. Need a late snack after working the overnight shift filing weird bubble playoff columns? Three letters, one ampersand, one love.

I need to eat better in 2021. But I kind of needed to eat sort of like shit to get through 2020, and time and again, when your man needed it most, PB&J was there.

Sunday night Zoom sessions with college friends

I know that most of us started something like this back in March; I’m not sure how many have stuck with it. I hope the answer is “a lot,” because honestly, knowing that I’m going to end the week by seeing a few friends — some here in Brooklyn but mostly beyond our reach for safety’s sake, some who’ve moved away — has felt like a stabilizing agent on more than a few occasions. It’s important, and no small blessing, to have people in your life who really know you, weird messy ugly bits and all, and in front of whom you can let everything go.

That gallery view’s provided a place to vent, to seethe, to laugh, to cry, and to try to find some semblance of center before heading back into another week. I’m grateful for it, and for the people in those little boxes. Except for the time they reminded me that, when I was 18, I was pretty sure I was a Pacey, and they were all extremely confident I was a Dawson. They were right, but still: a bitter pill to swallow, then and now.

Olivia calling herself “Dr. Bloody”

She took out her little toy doctor kit and just turned into a cackling villain.

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Deeply disconcerting, yes, but also adorable.

All Fantasy Everything

What got me in the door was the conceit: three very funny stand-up comedians (Ian Karmel, David Gborie, Sean Jordan), often with a very funny guest but sometimes without, pick some topic or another and engage in a fantasy draft of their favorite aspects or representations of that topic. (It is, crucially, a serpentine draft. Now what is that? That’s a great question.) Some favorite examples: Mikes; Words That You Think Make You Sound Smart, vols. 1 and 2; Things You Yell After You Dunk on Someone; Fictional Athletes; Crimes We’d Like to Commit. Yeah. It’s that kind of podcast.

What kept me around was the friendship. Listen to an episode and it becomes really clear really quickly just how much the three hosts love each other, how much fun they have being around each other and making one another laugh. The warmth radiates, just pours out of the speakers; in a year where I sorely needed some good vibes, I appreciated my regular check-ins with the Good Vibes Gang to just ... unclench for an hour and a half or so. 

Drinking beer

OK, I’ll admit: This doesn’t sound great for me. It’s true, though. I really like beer. (We brewed one in our kitchen, which I realize is something of a “bearded guy in Brooklyn” cliche, but here we are. It was exciting to complete a project, and it tasted OK-ish.) At some points this year, it didn’t feel like there wasn’t much to look forward to, and sometimes drinking some High Lifes or Narragansett tall boys — with my wife in our living room, with friends on the computer, whatever — helped take the edge off a shitty day/week/month/year. I look forward to being able to do that outside with people again.

The Good Place

I am sure some very smart cultural critics and political thinkers and social revolutionaries have forwarded compelling arguments for why this show is Bad, Actually, because that seems to be more or less true about most things, whether because said thing is Actually Bad or because the economics of the attention economy on the internet functionally necessitate the composition and publication of pretty much every position on pretty much every issue, and especially ones that present a counterargument for why you shouldn’t like the thing you like, and might be kind of a piece of shit for liking it. But I liked this half-hour comedy about the way the universe might be put together, why we should try to take better care of each other, and how doing so might be a pretty great way to take better care of ourselves.

Andrew let me write about it a little bit for a big project we did before the series finale aired, which was really nice of him. I found myself thinking about this part a lot this year:

I also thought a lot about Peeps Chili, but that happens every year.

Taking pictures of my dog

Check out this flumpy goddamn champion:

“Lugar is a good boy” is the main takeaway here. They don’t all have to be complicated.

Schitt’s Creek

I know we’re not alone in this, but we inhaled this show this year. A half-hour comedy about people being laid low, learning how to deal with who they actually are, and finding some grace and community and opportunities for growth kind of hit the spot, I guess.

One of the most wholesale enjoyable ensemble comedy casts I can remember; Catherine O’Hara was already in Cooperstown, but what she made with Moira Rose only polishes her plaque. I’ll never be able to describe with any specificity the thing Chris Elliott does, but I know it has made me laugh since I was a child too young to understand the Letterman bits or see Cabin Boy in the theater, and it’s probably going to make me laugh until I am dead.

I love that people who, for years, never got to see themselves or people like them on screen got to see David Rose on screen and maybe recognize themselves a little bit. The idea that seeing the David/Patrick relationship might make them maybe feel a little more at home, a little safer and more whole, makes me happy. Sad, about the before, but happy, about the now and the what comes next.

Past that, I just love how what was ostensibly a family-and-friends production for a Canadian channel just got absolutely everything right—the tone, the look, the sound, the theme song, the cast, the jokes, my goodness, the jokes—and before long, the rest of the world just got it. Like catching a fastball square on the barrel. Something the show clearly knew a little bit about.

Finding new outdoor places it was safe to go

Necessity is the mother of invention, and the need to give the kids a place to be that wasn’t unnecessarily dangerous but also wasn’t inside our two-bedroom apartment led us to do more exploring than we had before. Shirley Chisholm State Park is great. Canarsie Pier was a fun place to spend a Sunday morning; so’s Canarsie Playground. If we got there early enough or made our peace with some rain, the beaches at Jacob Riis Park and Fort Tilden were pretty rad this summer. I lived in Staten Island from ages 8 through 18, and during breaks throughout college, and don’t think I ever hiked in High Rock Park — that’s dumb, because it was nice!

Even if all those little excursions did was kill a little time and reduce the overall stress level of the four humans stuck in our four walls, that’s not nothing. Some days this year, it was everything.

Cobra Kai

I know I’m late here; I didn’t rush to seek it out because I don’t consider myself a huge fan of The Karate Kid, or at least not a big enough fan to sign up for YouTube’s premium service. I checked it out when it came to Netflix, though, and I honestly can’t believe how much I enjoyed this show. Give me “dumb, but with heart” every day of the week.

I believe in Miguel Diaz; I believe in Johnny Lawrence; I believe I will be firing up Season 3 next month, and perhaps drinking some Coors Banquets in its honor. (I cannot, however, believe how the “get him a body bag” thing came back around, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Closing unread tabs

I’m a serial hoarder of links, and I am bad at finishing all of them. I’ve tried to get into Pocket and Instapaper, but I’ve never been able to turn that sort of workflow — open link, save to third-party service, go back to third-party service later to read, then delete from there — into something that felt instinctual, natural, or habitual. So: lots of tabs. Like, lots of tabs.

This was a dicier proposition than usual in 2020, because cutting my work week in half to be able to more effectively coparent two kids who didn’t have school or day care for most of the year meant less time to read things.

I tried to do my best to keep up with the important stuff for work, and to read at least some stuff about how other parents were dealing with their anxiety/anger/depression/frustration at having to be on 24/7 and work, and to stay abreast of (at least some of) what was happening in the world. Sometimes, though, I would wake up and realize I’d been holding onto blog posts about Really Interesting Rotation Decisions on the 11th-Seeded Team in the East or whatever for literally nine months, and I would go against my nature and just hit the eject button on a 25-deep window, and something amazing would happen: I wouldn’t get fired for being shitty at my job. I would move on with my day, and I would feel about 10 pounds lighter.

I still keep too much stuff open. (As we speak, I’ve got three different Chrome windows open on two different laptops. I choose not to count the total tabs.) But I do so knowing that, if it gets too heavy, I can experience the momentary joy of surrendering to the inevitability that I can’t catch everything. In that moment, I feel OK with my decay.

Reading writers I wasn’t familiar with before

Two in particular stand out in my mind: Nekias Duncan, now of BasketballNews.com, who does excellent film breakdowns and statistical analysis, and Katie Heindl, who writes basketball stuff of all types all over the place, and strings sentences together in a way that scratches an itch inside my brain. I’m grateful I got more chances to read them this year, I look forward to bigger and better things for both of them, and I’m hopeful that, if things calm down and our schedules go back to something approximating normalcy, I’ll have more bandwidth to hunt out more new voices in the year ahead.

The time I ambushed my wife as she was trying to break down and put away the girls’ space tent

Pretty good.

Siobhan learning to ride a bicycle (with training wheels, but still)

The moment passed pretty quickly; Not Exactly A Mechanic over here can’t get the training wheels to reliably work right without either loosening them too much or tightening them so much that she can’t pedal it. In that first moment, though, and for as long as it lasted, it was really great to see her get excited about doing something new, big kid shit, for the first time.

She was proud. I was proud of her. And then we went to a playground for a few hours. Pretty good day.

Tyler Tynes roasting me

Tyler did some incredible work this year — The Cam Chronicles is getting deserved praise as one of 2020′s best podcasts, and his reporting on the Movement for Black Lives was exemplary. It’s hard to top this, though:

You know what the messed up part is? I was excited to tell him what I was doing, just because I knew the reaction would be so violent. Like a body rejecting a transplant. So lucky to have such a dear, dear friend.

PUP

I’m late on everything, so I didn’t start listening to PUP until the spring of 2019, but I haven’t really stopped since. This year has been too sedentary too often; this band is too kinetic to allow me to stay there.

“Bloody Mary Kate and Ashley Kate” is never more than about 20 minutes away from returning to the front of my mind. I would fucking love for it to be safe enough to watch these guys live at some point, and I am absolutely going to take Steve up on his offer.

Someone sending me a shirt based on a joke I tweeted

First:

Then:

Then:

I’m not sure you should be rewarding my behavior, SnoCoPrintShop, but I appreciate it all the same.

Which reminds me:

Family dinner/family movie night

My wife works in Manhattan and commutes back on the train, and we've tried to prioritize getting the girls to bed early since they were little, so that doesn’t leave much of a window between when she gets home and they go in the tub for us all to connect; before everything shut down, we almost never really ate together. We’re still not great about it, but for a while now we’ve carved out Saturday as family dinner night, where we sit down to eat and talk about our “up” from the day — something that happened that made us feel good or happy, or something we’re looking forward to. (We used to talk about our “down,” too, but that kind of seemed like overkill. Why try to focus on more bad shit right now, you know?)

Then we settle in for a movie, with who gets to pick rotating each week. It’s mostly been Pixar, which has been great but also has its drawbacks; after she caught me crying during one of them (maybe the Bing-Bong scene in Inside Out? or Miguel singing to Grandma Coco?), Siobhan straight up told me, “You need to get yourself together, man.” We just watched My Neighbor Totoro, too, which they loved, so we’re probably going to try some more Miyazaki soon. It’s a really simple thing, but it’s one we rarely made time for before, and it’s been really nice to manufacture something positive that we can share and look forward to together.

Sometimes looking like a shiftless drifter

No shade to anyone who felt strongly about getting a lineup or whatever, but I haven’t really felt like going to the barbershop was worth the risk, and I continue to refuse to believe that my wife can actually pull off the fade she’s long wanted to give me. (It is also possible that she just means she’s intending to run my fade, and that I will before long wind up cold-cocked and slumped by my bride of nine years.) So I’ve just kind of been growing out my hair like it was when I was single, and sometimes been letting my beard get kind of out of control too, and, well, I sort of like looking a little bit like a Wildling, it turns out.

I have since trimmed things up a little. It didn’t go over well with my youngest. Oh, well. I’ll try to do better next time.

My wife and daughter singing the Pixies

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We don’t know all the words to too many lullabies, so we sing the ones we do know the words to. This will probably come back to bite us in the years ahead. For now, though: Pretty good.

Doughboys’ Tournament of Chompions: Munch Madness: Mac Attack

I can’t believe how invested I became in Nick Wiger and Mike Mitchell’s quest to determine the best menu item at McDonald’s in a 64-seed tournament that spawned hours and hours of delightfully funny audio featuring all-time home-run guests like Jon Gabrus and Nicole Byer, who gleefully feed into the often warm, sometimes antagonistic, always entertaining chemistry between the two hosts. I have also never found myself wanting to go to McDonald’s more in my entire life. I have hit the drive-thru a couple of times since, and the boys are right: The McDonald’s fountain Coke does just hit different.

Sound Only

I’ve lost track of whether or not a 38-year-old is considered a millennial, but I’m quite confident that I’m not exactly plugged into “the millennial lifestyle” as my teammates Justin Charity and Micah Peters discuss it on their podcast, which relaunched this summer. Doesn’t matter, though, because I love hearing Charity and Micah talk to each other even if I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Their conversation about Dave Chappelle was great. After listening to their Travis Scott episode, I felt like I kind of understood who he is and why he occupies the space he does in pop culture now. I had no idea how they were going to get me to give a shit about set photos from The Batman, but this they not only got me there, but wended their way toward blaming 50 Cent for needing to know who Groot is to have a conversation on the internet, which is something for which Abraham Lincoln did not die. The show is good, it's getting better, it’s fun to hear them talk their shit, and Charity’s regular bellowing of “I, TOO, AM AMERICA” has made me smile for four straight months. 

Siobhan’s letters and notes

She’s in first grade now, and she’s taken to communicating her feelings through the written word. A lot.

I won’t pretend that I loved all of these in the moment. I can only get so upset, though, when she’s already writing with such a clear voice. (And trying to use proper punctuation. (And drawing little cartoons to drive the point home.)

Palm Springs

I’m having a hard time remembering too many specifics about it right now, which probably means it’d be a good thing to rewatch over the holidays. But, as I’m sure many people noted many months before we got around to watching it, a comedy about living the same day over and over again, and about trying to figure out how to make your life mean something when everything seems meaningless, scratched a pretty particular, and particularly important, itch this year. It could’ve been twice as long, and I would’ve eaten up every second of Andy Samberg and Cristin Miloti together.

I’m pretty sure I cried, although this year, that doesn’t necessarily mean much.  Also, put Conner O’Malley in more things.

Joining our union’s bargaining committee

I won’t say too much about this, but I will say that becoming an active participant in the process of a labor union negotiating its first contract with management has been an extremely educational experience. It’s pushed me to have conversations, sometimes difficult ones, about our priorities as a staff and a company. It's helped me get closer with the other past and present members of the BC, and has led me to start developing relationships with members of our staff that I otherwise might not have had much of an opportunity to get to know.

The organizing work takes time, effort, and energy, but trying to do what I can to help take better care of my colleagues has been well worth all of that. Here’s hoping that in 2021 we can reach a deal that helps make our workplace even better, stronger, and more equitable for all of us.

Publishing a story about Stevie Nicks’ Fajita Roundup

I swear this is true: After I accepted my offer to work at The Ringer, but before I started, I told a friend that one thing I was excited about was that you had the chance to work on offbeat stuff here, in both the “kind of weird” and “not about the NBA” senses. That, I thought, might maybe open the door to me getting to write a story about a Saturday Night Live sketch I saw when I was a teenager about Stevie Nicks from Fleetwod Mac running a cheap Tex-Mex restaurant in Sedona, Arizona — a sketch that I wasn’t sure anyone else remembered, but that was stuck in my head forever.

That story ran on May 26.

A lot of people seemed to like it.

Accomplishing this goal was, as dumb as this might sound, a highlight of my year, and, honestly, a highlight of my career. I’d like to do some more stuff like this next year, time permitting; we’ll see. Whether or not I do, I got to do this. I’ll always have that.

[nanna-melissa]

Nanna’s Record Collection #2: Queen

Now..me..a Queen fan? Unbelievable. So I started to get into Queen a few years ago but I was a pretty casual fan. When I was digging into their musical catalog a bit more, I was also getting into Placebo and they sort of took over. I didn’t listen to Queen proper until three months ago. I’ve listened to many of their bigger singles and had their Greatest Hits Vol. II on when I worked on projects. Now my order for this is not going to be chronological in which they were released but when I bought them. My top 5 are going to be first so enough explanation, let’s get onto..

This photo is so blue/purple compared to the others, gotta love my phone trying to white balance. So, I bought this and the next one I’m going to talk about at the same time. My first impression with this album was ‘okay, this is the one with BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY ON IT’ and that song isn’t my absolute favorite on this thing! I have to say listening to it in full for the first time was a ride. Death on Two Legs followed by Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon was like whiplash but then I’M IN LOVE WITH MY CAR...BITCH. I did not think Roger would go as hard as he did. I was taken aback...I was laughing...I was shocked....I had questions, comments and concerns. Like....TOLD MY GIRL I HAD TO FORGET HER, RATHER BUY ME A NEW CARBURETOR...then CARS DON’T TALK BACK, THEY’RE JUST FOUR-WHEELED FRIENDS NOW. Iconic. It’s got my pistons a-pumpin’. You’re my Best Friend was familiar territory. It’s John being fuckin’ wholesome but then came ‘39. It was love at first listen. I listened to that song on loop for like two weeks. Sweet Lady didn’t grab me as hard but with a line like ‘you call me sweet like I’m some kind of cheese’...I was missing out. I also skipped Seaside Rendezvous and listened to it on vinyl for the first time and wanted to kick my own ass for not letting myself listen to it sooner. I love that song. Prophet’s Song, I think..is kinda weak? But it’s ending transitioning into Love of my Life? OOH BB. GOOD SHIT. Then there’s Good Company and I love Brian’s voice in it and the Ukulele slaps. Then what can I say about Bo Rhap that people haven’t like come on. 

Favorites: Death on Two Legs, Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon, I’m in Love with my Car, You’re my Best Friend, ‘39, Sea Side Rendezvous, Love of my Life, Good Company, and Bohemian Rhapsody...(so nearly the whole album)

This boy? Right here? This is my favorite Queen album. Considering Radio Ga GA and I Want to Break Free were the first two songs I fell in love with...it was kind of meant to be, huh? But for real, this album has no dud. Radio Ga Ga? Banger and if you don’t clap along with it, I’m judging you. Tear it Up? It is such an 80′s Queen Brian song. That guitar is so...ooh 👌 It’s a Hard Life? THOSE OPENING LINES AND HOW FREDDIE SINGS THEM OWN MY ENTIRE ASS. With the video, Fred’s goddamn red and black winged liner look..........holy shit. Also Roger looks like a child on the verge of a temper tantrum and I live for it. Man on the Prowl is just fun. Now...Machines (Back to Human), people sleep on this one. The vocals, the synths, the guitar..perfection. I Want to Break Free, come on. The video. Rogerina. John writing yet another absolute banger like the icon he is. Perfection. Then it’s followed by another song people sleep on. Keep Passing the Open Windows just does something for me. The bass on that track cures my depression and it mixed with the drums? I’m done for. Hammer to Fall after? Again, another absolute banger. Is This the World we Created is such a fantastic closer. 

Favorites: Every. Single. Song.

I know Hot Space is a very hit or miss album for many people. For me, this is pretty much tied for second favorite album alongside a Night at the Opera. Hearing about this one, I heard this was Queen’s worst album. To that I say a couple things. One, the people saying that are straight. Two, they don’t like fun music. While gay club, disco/funk influenced, heavily due to Freddie and also John, this album is so much fun. Staying Power is such a strong opener. The sax, Freddie’s vocals and the more funky guitars make me just want to boogie. I love the little ‘yeah!’ Fred does after ‘See what I got, I got a hell of a lot’ in the beginning. Dancer is a bit out there for Brian and I appreciate. Now when I say Back Chat owns my ass, it truly owns my ass. It is the landlord of my ass. A diss track towards Brian written by John and then JOHN BOPPING AROUND IN THE VIDEO AND SMILING WHILE BRIAN LOOKS MISERABLE...that’s a level of petty I aspire to be. Now, Body Language fucks. That bass fucks. It’s a simple song, not too complicated but it works so well. Action This Day is alright. I enjoy the chorus but it’s a slight bore to me...and yet Body Language is not I might ruffle some feathers saying that. Put Out the Fire is very 80′s Brian. Can see some stepping stones from this to the Works. 

Life is Real grew on me. I’m a John Lennon fan (I know, prepare the pitchforks and the ‘he beat his wife’ comments) and it’s very John. It’s a wonderful creative tribute to the man. Calling All Girls grew on me. It’s video is questionable at best. Even Brian and Roger watching it back were like ‘what in the fuck is this’ and Roger forgot it was his song. Legend. Las Palabras De Amor is beautiful. Them harmonizing in the chorus does something for me. Now...Cool Cat. Cool Cat is easily in my top 3 all-time favorite Queen songs. Whenever I listen to this song, I swear I can feel the dopamine receptors connecting in my brain. Fred’s falsetto fucks me up. Also take a moment of appreciation for John Richard Deacon born on August the 19th, 1951. He wrote it and did the entire instrumental. The talent? Immense. Now the closer is of course Under Pressure. I wish they kept Brian’s bit in it but hey, what can you do. I can’t really say anything about the song besides it slaps and the highest note was not done by Freddie but Roger. 

Favorites: Staying Power, Back Chat, Body Language, Put out the Fire, Cool Cat, Under Pressure. 

This is an interesting one. She used to be a woman with a hotdog stand HOOP DIDDY DIDDY HOOP DIDDY DOO. Now, this one caught my attention due to the first two tracks. Innuendo mixes genres so beautifully. That spanish guitar section is stunning and the bridge gets me every time. I’m Going Slightly Mad after that? It’s a bit odd. The introduction on the track is an odd one and it used to slightly creep it out the first time I heard it. But the more I listen, the more I really appreciate how fun it is. The video is one of my absolute favorites. Freddie’s look. Brian WEARING CLOGS IN THE 90′s LIKE AN ABSOLUTE UNIT, and John just standing there with a yo-yo makes me happy. Headlong kind of makes me laugh now after watching the making of this album’s documentary. Roger talks about how it’s a serious album but then it cuts to the SHE USED TO BE A WOMAN WITH A HOTDOG STAND line. The next three songs I didn’t give a chance until about a month ago. Ride the Wild Wind is one I was not expecting to enjoy as much as I do but there’s something about it. Along with Don’t Try So Hard. Now...These Are the Days of Our Lives? Excuse me while I cry. The last song I want to talk about is Delilah. A song Freddie wrote for his favorite cat. The lines ‘you make me so very happy, when you cuddle up and go to sleep beside me...but then you make me slightly mad, when you pee all over my chippendale suite’. BUT THEN THE MEOWS AND BRIAN MAKING HIS GUITAR SOUND LIKE A CAT MY HEART MELTS. 

Favorites: Innuendo, I’m Going Slightly Mad, Headlong, I Can’t Live With You, Don’t Try So Hard, Ride the Wild Wind, Delilah, the Show Must Go On.

Holy shit number five. My fingers are in slight pain and I have four more to go after this. Now time for a confession, I guess? I used to hate Killer Queen. For some reason, I couldn’t stand it. Key words there are used to. That song is a bop and I was a dumb bitch I guess. Tenement Funster is honestly such a Roger track. The opening line makes me think it’s a nod to those glittery converse he used to wear. Those were a strong look. Flick of the Wrist is the grand pappy of Death on Two Legs. Or is the father? I don’t know. But it’s still a diss track for a manager who did them dirty. Anyway, this track does something for me. In the Lap of the Gods....Roger’s goddamn FALSETTO HOW DARE HE. Then when they did this song live and he did that shit...bitch. My jaw DROPPED. Stone Cold Crazy with that almost early punk sound? Hell yee. Now, Misfire. Learning the meaning behind it.....John....honey...oof. I mean it’s a bop about ending too early during sex, that you cannot deny. Leroy Brown was one that grew on me. I actually didn’t care too much for it for a while. It’s fun. Now, She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettos)...WHY ARE PEOPLE SLEEPING ON THIS TRACK???! Brian’s vocals are so fuckin’ beautiful, paired with that simple instrumental...it’s such a stunning track. Lap of the Gods (revisited) I slept on. I deserve to have my ass kicked for that. 

Favorites: Flick of the Wrist, Lap of the Gods, Misfire, She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettos) and Last of the Gods...revisited.

This one is still growing on me. Father to Son when I first heard it flicked something in my brain and it’s one of those that I cannot skip when it’s on. White Queen didn’t really impress me at first and it required a re-listen. Then I actually properly listened to it and it got me hooked. Now, Loser in the End. That song FUCKS and it’s my favorite off this record. It sounds vastly different from many of the others and it felt like a breath of fresh air. Ogre Battle is a fuckin’ beast of a track. Along with it, most of the Black side just kind of reminds me of playing D&D with the boys. Am I alone in this? Probably. This one I’m still getting into for the most part. 

Favorites: Father to Son, White Queen (as it Began), Loser in the End, Ogre Battle, Funny How Love Is,  Seven Seas of Rhye.

This scamp was hard to get a good picture of. That cover is hella reflective. This is one I wasn’t expecting to add into my collection. It’s not my absolute top favorite, I do still rather enjoy it. Play the Game is pretty mellow but then goddamn DRAGON ATTACK. EXCUSE ME. The bass on that track? That guitar riff? I’m done. I am deceased. BUT THEN THAT’S FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST, BIIIIIIITCH. If you couldn’t tell, I love a good bass line. This one is so fuckin’ tasty. It’s simple but so goddamn effective. Need Your Loving Tonight seems like almost like a transitional song. It gives me a bit of a Hot Space Vibe. Crazy Little Thing Called Love is a song me and my mom bond over all the time. It’s her favorite Queen song and we often sing along to it in the car. Now. Rock it? Rock it (Prime Jive)? It slaps and it slaps hard. However, listening to it one night, the track faintly reminded me of Sword of Damocles from Rocky Horror Picture Show. The Vocals very much did and the instrumental as well but not as much.  Now with Don’t Try Suicide....it’s one song I’m really not a fan of. Having to do with childhood trauma dealing with suicide? Maybe so. The last three I still need to give a proper chance? I’m weird with albums. I sleep on songs then finally listen to them get regret for not listening to them sooner. 

Favorites: Dragon Attack, Another one Bites the Dust, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Rock it (Prime Jive), and Save Me.

Damn alright, I’m starting to get tired of typing but this is the second to the last boyoo. My phalanges are literally going to fall off when I talk about the Beatles. OKAY NOW, another album I slept on for a while. I’m a dumb bitch, we established this. I listened to this album before in full but it didn’t do much for me. I gave it another go and found I actually enjoyed quite a bit of it. Tie your Mother Down brought me back to the days of listening to their Greatest Hits II album on their YouTube Channel. The Intro music was the guitar rift for this song. You Take my Breath Away is an interesting one. Very reminiscent of Love of my Life...almost a sort of lonely love song of sorts. You and I is sort of the complete opposite and it does sort of illustrate how lonely Freddie was. Somebody to Love and it’s harmonies water my crops, clear my depression, and give me a hug. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy is one of those tunes you just have bop to. Drowse is absolutely STUNNING. Not what I expect from a Roger song. I mean the last one of his on an album was what? I’m in Love with my Car? We love a versatile icon. Teo Torriatte and just the meaning behind it is so incredibly sweet. It’s so absolutely wholesome and reading how Brian and the boys worked with their translator to get it just right for their Japanese audience. My heart is full. 

Favorites: You Take my Breath Away, You and I, Drowse, Teo Torriatte. 

HOLY SHIT LAST ONE. When I sat down and started listening to their entire discography, this one really set the stage of what was to come. Keep Yourself Alive is such a strong opener in my opinion. Also DO YOU THINK YOU GET BETTER EVERYDAY?? NO I JUST THINK I’M TWO STEPS NEARER TO MY GRAVE...a bop. Doing Alright isn’t my favorite but is it fun to sing ‘doing alriiiiiiiight’?. Hell yee. Great Rat King fuckin’ SLAPS. Now...I am a simple woman and when I hear Liar..I get more turnt than a white dad at a barbeque in cargo shorts and crocs listening to Bruce Springsteen. It’s almost impossible for me to not sing along. To scream LIAR and of course MAMA I’M GONNA BE YOUR SLAVE ALL DAY LONG....ooh BABY. Solid track. Also that version of them playing it at the Rainbow is absolute perfection. Modern Times Rock n Roll comes out of almost no-where and damn...Rog really out here. It’s also far too short for my liking. Son & Daugher I have to say gives me almost Cream vibes? I dig it. The vocals goddamn kill me..straight up manslaughter, truly. 

Favorites: Keep Yourself Alive, Great Rat King, Liar, Modern Times Rock n Roll and Son & Daughter. 

This took me nearly two hours to write, holy hell. But hey, those are my 9 records that I wrote essays about. 

[waywardaardvark79]

Check Yes or No Part 11: Baby Steps

       Summary:  You've been best friends with Dean Winchester since childhood. When you finally realize what's been in front of you this entire time will secrets threaten to destroy what you have before it really even begins.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: language

                                  One week later, Sunday

      You had agreed to meet Dean for lunch to finish the conversation Sam interrupted at the anniversary party. Dean had told his family everything, and you had more support than you thought you would, none of them really caring much for Lisa in the first place. 

Mary had a long talk with you, and while she wished that you two could eventually work everything out, she understood how you felt. The day before Sam left to go back home he told you that he understood your side of things and offered you a place to stay with him and Jess if you ever needed to get away for awhile. Your friend Ashley, who had also been informed  about everything as well, told you that you were more than welcome to come and stay with her and her husband Stephen if you needed to. 

You mulled both offers over, and were seriously considering taking them up on it, maybe it was exactly what you needed, just a little time away to clear your head. You checked the time on your phone, Dean was 30 minutes late, only to see no missed calls or texts. You waited for another fifteen minutes before giving up, paying for your coffee, and walking outside to your car. 

       The rest of your afternoon was spent lazily binging Netflix from your couch. You heard your phone ping from the coffee table, and groaned as you reached for it, a new text from Benny lighting up your screen.

                           Benny didn't reply back, and you tossed your phone back on the coffee table. You had dozed off on the couch when a knock at the door pulled you from sleep. You unwrapped yourself from your blanket cocoon and shuffled to the door. You flung it open, not looking through the peephole, to see Benny standing there with a couple of take out bags. 

He looked you up and down, "Were you sleepin'?" 

You held the door open, and gestured for him to come in, "I dozed off on the couch." He held the bag of food out to you and you pointed to the coffee table, "Want a beer?" you asked.

 "Sure." he said as he made his way into your living room and plopped down onto your couch. 

You returned with two beers, handed Benny his, and plopped down next to him. You grabbed the take out bag from the table and ripped into it, "You really didn't have to do this." you said as you popped a fry into your mouth. 

"I kinda need some advice." he said as he quickly swiped one of your fries. 

You chuckled, "And you came to me for said advice? I'm probably the last person you want advice from, but I'll try." 

He took a swig of beer, "I think I may have met someone." he hesitantly said. You took a huge bite of your burger, waving your hand for him to continue, "I did some work on her car. We were friendly with each other." 

"So, you went all Southern charm on her?" you cut in.

 Benny rolled his eyes, "Maybe a little. Anyway I finished the job yesterday, and she came to get her car, and she gave me her number."

 "Call her." you simply stated. 

Benny laid his head back on your couch, "What do I say?" he asked.

 "Just be yourself, Benny. You are charming as fuck. You'll have no problem." 

He looked over at you, "I've been out of the game awhile, sugar, and my charm didn't work on you."

 You shoved more of your burger in your mouth, and mumbled out, "Well, I'm an idiot." You swallowed as quickly as you could, "You'll do fine. She's gonna love you. Trust me." you said. 

Benny chuckled, "You just said you were an idiot, now it's trust me." 

You slapped at his arm, "Trust me. Call her, and just be yourself. You're a catch, Benny." 

You grabbed your beer and downed it. You started to get up for another, "I got it." said Benny as he walked into your kitchen. 

He returned a moment later, two beers in hand, "So, you and Dean doing any better?" he asked. 

You grabbed the bottle from his hand, and shrugged your shoulders, "We were supposed to meet for lunch today, but he never showed." You took a drink, "Sam offered me a place with him and Jess."  you said. Benny's eyes widened at your statement. "Just to visit for a few days. You know get away for a little while." you cleared up. 

"Might be something to think about. Clear your head. Just don't go runnin' off on me." Benny said.

 "Can't get rid of me that easy, Bear. I mean, who would you come to for awesome advice?" you asked.

 "True, Cas and Garth aren't too bright when it comes to the ladies." he said.

 You laughed a full body laugh, "Cas,  gave you advice?" you asked.

 "He tried to." said Benny. 

"Oh, God. I wish I could have heard that." you said.

 The conversation flowed easily between you and Benny. You were on your third beer when you heard a knock at the door. "Maybe it's more food." you joked as you got up to answer it.

 You opened the door to see Dean standing there, "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I can explain...." he trailed off as he noticed Benny sitting on your couch. He narrowed his eyes, "Am I interrupting something?" he asked.  

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything you heard Benny clear his throat. "I was just heading out." he said as he stood from the couch. 

You turned to face him, and Dean walked inside, "Come in." you grumbled. You closed the door and walked over to Benny, "You don't have to leave." 

"It's fine." he said. 

You walked him the short distance to the door, "Thanks for dinner, and listen to what I said. Call me and let me know how it goes, or stop by the shop tomorrow." you said as you hugged him.

 He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "You ok?" 

You pulled back and nodded. Benny opened the door and stepped out, "I mean what I said." you called after him. 

He waved you off, "See ya tomorrow, sugar." 

      You slowly closed the door and turned around to see Dean surveying your living room as if he were looking for evidence of a crime. "Awfully chummy." stated Dean. 

You sighed, "Really? That's what we are starting with?" 

He shrugged his shoulders, "You tell me?" 

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you." you said as you picked up the empty beer bottles and headed toward the kitchen. 

Dean quickly followed, "So, I have a reason to be jealous?" he asked. 

You chucked the bottles into the trash a little more harshly than you meant to, "Jesus Dean, he brought me something to eat, and asked my advice on something, not like it's any of your business or anything." you said. 

"Come on, Y/N. You know he has a huge crush on you." Dean argued. 

"So, what if he does?! We aren't a thing anymore. I can talk to whoever I want." you yelled. 

Dean narrowed his eyes and took a few steps toward you, "So, you talkin' to Benny now?" he asked, venom dripping from his words.

 "And what if I was?!" you yelled back. 

He didn't answer, just stood there glaring at you. "Jesus Christ, he came here to ask my advice on asking someone out. He met someone at work, and needed some help." you stated as you marched back into your living room. 

"Why didn't you just say that?" asked Dean. 

You reached for your half full beer, "Not so fun being jerked around is it?" you asked before quickly downing what was left.

 Dean looked at you, confusion written all over his face, "We were supposed to have lunch today." you filled in the blank for him. 

Dean looked down at the ground and sheepishly stated, "I can explain that." 

"Oh, I'm sure you can." you sarcastically said. 

Dean sat down on the couch next to you, "I hate fighting with you." he said.

 "You could have at least called me." you said as you wrapped yourself in your blanket, needing a barrier between the two of you.

 He looked over at you, "I wanted to explain in person. I was scared you wouldn't take my calls. I got here as soon as I could." You looked over at him, waiting for him to explain, "Lisa got kicked out of her place. Apparently she forgot to pay rent."

 "Sounds about right." you bitterly replied.

 "She showed up at my place when I was leaving to meet you, and said she didn't have anywhere to go." 

"She's there isn't she?" you asked. You didn't give him time to reply before quickly jumping into a rant, "Why don't you open your eyes, De. I mean what fucking grown human being just forgets to pay rent? She is using you, and she is going to take you for everything you fucking have. You are just too blind to see it. I would have thought you would have learned that lesson after the first time, but I guess you can't get it through that thick fucking skull of yours." 

"You done?" he asked. 

You looked away from him, shrugged one shoulder, "I guess." you mumbled. 

 "She's at my place, but I loaded most of my shit into my car and left. I told you I didn't want her, Y/N." You didn't say anything, and he reached across and tapped the top of your head, "Or can you not get that through your thick fuckin' skull?" he asked.

 "Not funny." you said.

 "I know you don't like it, and trust me, I don't either, but that's my kid and it's my responsibility." said Dean. 

"I still wouldn't bet on that." you said under your breath.

 "Well, if it is I couldn't just leave her out on the street." he said.

 "I know." you replied as you focused on a loose string at the hem of your shirt.

 "Sammy agreed with you that I should get a DNA test. He even offered to talk to her about it, throw around all his lawyer talk." said Dean. 

"You should listen to him." 

 "He told me he offered you a place with him and Jess. You gonna take it?" he asked, worrying lacing his voice.

 "I thought about it." you said. 

"I really wish you wouldn't." he said in almost a whisper. 

"It'd only be for a few days. You know, just clear mind and shit."

 He reached for your hand, a little shocked when you didn't pull away, and laced his fingers with yours, "We're never gonna be the same, are we?" he asked.

 You thought for a moment before choking out, "I....don't know."

 "I hate not talking to you everyday. I miss you so fuckin' much." he said.  

You squeezed his hand, "Me too." 

You both sat there in silence, not releasing the grip you had on each other's hand. "How about we go back to friends for now, and when we figure out all of this Lisa business, we can make a decision then?" you asked.

 "I'll take whatever you will give me." he said.

 "I'll try not to be such an asshole about it, and just get over it. You're too important to me." you said. "Me and her probably shouldn't be around each other though." you clarified. 

"I don't want to be around her either." he said.

 "Well, you kinda fucked that one up, De." you said, a hint of laughter in your voice. 

"You've never been more right about anything. So, I can call you, and come around now?" he asked.

 "I think we should baby step it for awhile, but I'm ok with it, if you are."

 "This is the first time I've been ok with anything in awhile." he said.

 "You can crash here tonight." you said. 

He looked over at you, "What happened to baby steps?" he asked, his lip quirking up into a smile. 

"I offered you, who is technically homeless, a place to sleep. Not like I asked you to move in." you said. 

He slumped down and leaned his head on your shoulder, "Thank you." 

You leaned your head over onto his, "You know I always got your back." you said. 

       You sat there for awhile, simply enjoying each other's company, when you let out a loud yawn. "You should get to bed." said Dean.

 You pulled your hand away from his, and leaned back into the couch, "I'll take the couch. You can have the bed." you said as you started to arrange the pillows. 

"No way." he said. 

"You can't comfortably fit on the couch, and I can. It's no big deal." you argued

. You watched as he stood up, "You sure?" he asked.

 "Goodnight Dean. You still have some clothes in your drawer if you want to change." you said as you pulled the blanket up over you and closed your eyes. 

You heard Dean walk into the kitchen, figuring he was grabbing something to drink before bed, you turned on your side and settled in for the night. You felt him tap your shoulder a few moments later. You opened your eyes to see him standing over you, a piece of paper and pen in  hand. You looked up at him and he gestured for you to take the paper.

 You took it, propped yourself up in a seated position, and opened it. You smiled as you looked down at it.  Will you be my friend?  was scrawled in Dean's messy writing. At the bottom were the familiar boxes, yes and no written next to them. The note you wrote so many years ago popped into your head, and you looked up at him and smiled before taking the pen and making your choice. You folded the paper and handed it over to him, settling back onto your side and fixing your blanket. 

You didn't see the smile that spread across his face as he looked down at the check mark you had placed in the yes box. You felt him place a kiss to your temple, "Night, sweetheart." 

"Night, you giant fuckin' dork." You smiled as you heard him laugh to himself on his way to your bedroom.

        You tossed and turned for a couple of hours on the couch. You were so tired earlier and couldn't understand why you were having so much trouble falling asleep. 

You got up and tried to quietly walk around, thinking that maybe you could tire yourself out, but before you knew it you had made your way to your bedroom. You peeked your head in the door, and saw Dean laying on his back, "Can't sleep?" he asked.

 You jumped a little, startled by his question, "Guess not." you said.

 He raised his head, and tried to focus on you in the dark, "C'mere." he said. 

You stood hesitantly at the doorway, unsure of whether you should go in or not. "What happened to baby steps?" you asked.

 "Just offering you a place to sleep." he said, using your own words against you.

 You quickly crossed the distance to your bed and crawled in beside him, turning over on your side. Just as you closed your eyes he threw his arm over your waist, pulled you back into his chest, and tangled his legs with yours. A smile slowly crept  onto your face, and you quickly drifted off to sleep, Dean quickly following behind you. It was the best night's sleep either of you had had in awhile.

[et-lesailes]

the summer at vlyvalle // chapter one

featuring: bryce langley (chris evans in fierce people, 2005) x reader

summary: you are bryce langley’s best friend as well as the love of his life, and he, yours. your two families live in the large, wealthy estate in vyvalle, new jersey owned by his grandfather; your family has been business partners with his family for some time now, and therefore, you and bryce were practically raised together. both of you grew up incredibly rich and privileged, though humble and grounded-- however, there has always been something slightly off about bryce’s mind and the way he thinks. you are the only one who sees this side of him, yet you still can’t help but love him, hoping that you can help him become someone more stable and healthy. when a new neighbor moves in for the summer, you can’t help but suspect that bryce’s interactions with him aren’t completely innocent, but he always manages to convince your more hopeful and optimistic side otherwise. 

story themes: romance, drama/angst, psychology, semi dark!fic 

chapter themes: ** TRIGGER WARNING. mentions of rape and mental illness

word count: approx 1400

taglist: @quant-um-fizzx, @thefvcker-tucker

note: as you’ll probably be able to tell, this story is highly based off the movie Fierce People, and while some events in it are involved in the movie as well, some are also added in from my own imagination-- especially concerning bryce’s character. if you’ve seen it, you know it’s a pretty dark movie, and so this story will have dark themes as well-- please don’t read if you feel you will get triggered. however, i will keep this story pretty short, and so the chapters will be a little short too! please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming chapters.

Your eyes flickered over your best friend’s face as his deep blue ones were completely fixated on the video he had borrowed from the new neighbor next door; Bryce had been talking about Finn Earl for quite some time now, and while his words expressed that he loved the kid and that his interest in anthropology was fascinating, you knew better than to fully trust the positivity emanating from Bryce’s sharp tongue. He may have been all laughs and smiles when telling you about the conversations he and Finn would share, but after years of growing up with him, practically being raised beside him-- you could see far beyond the surface when it came to Bryce Langley. You could see the darkness that would take over his hues when he thought nobody was looking, you could feel it. You could pick up on the undertones in his voice that were completely concealed to anyone else, even his own sister. While others found awe and joy in watching how passionate he became about a subject, you knew it was not so alluring as it seemed. 

Bryce Langley did not simply develop passions, he developed obsessions.

And yet, he did not scare you in the least. You knew what he was capable of. In fact, you were one of the only people in his entire life that knew, and this was why the man was not behind bars for using his gun to put his own father in a coma.

Perhaps you were equally as messed up to remain by his side, but you believed you could help him. And to an extent, you were right. Bryce seemed to calm down when he was around you, and while he may have found a little too much comfort and dependence on you at times, you figured that was better than him being completely independent and eventually going off the rails entirely. 

His brain fascinated you. Was that messed up, too? The way he analyzed situations, how he interpreted others’ actions, how his mind reached solutions-- you could not wrap your head around how someone so brilliant could also be so delusional, so rash. He needed help, and you knew his rich and privileged family would never give it to him considering their money and image were far more important, and so you had taken it upon yourself from a young age to be Bryce’s anchor. 

“God. Christ. This is- this is just so fucking fascinating, babe, come over here and look at this.” Bryce gestured for you to join him on the couch, his eyes still glued to the screen. Standing up from your seat at the table where you had been reading, you set the book down and came over to stand behind the couch, eyes studying the screen with interest. Bryce had told you that Finn’s father was an anthropologist studying a South American tribe called the Ishkanani, and he had also told you how violent and savage these people were. You barely bit your lip as you watched, seeing a rather vicious, bloody fight unfold between two warriors of the tribe-- you were not weak hearted, but you looked away to look down at him instead, more interested to see what those beautiful blue eyes would tell you. You recognized the look instantly; he was absorbed, he was sucked in, this was officially the beginning of his newest obsession and it did not look promising.

He suddenly grabbed your hands and pulled your arms down on either side of him so that they were wrapped around him, looking up at you with a smile so damn pure and excited that you really, really wanted to believe he was simply a former anthropology student, interested in learning about a new topic. This was what any other person would have seen, anyways. But you knew the unfortunate truth, because deep in those sparkling eyes was wickedness, and you hated that it was a part of him. 

“What do you think is interesting about it?” you asked softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He laughed and pulled your face back, turning his head to kiss your lips. “What’s not interesting about it? I mean, look at them. They just-- they just fuckin’ take what they want, when they want it. Isn’t that how it should be? We’re so weak as a society these days, if we focused more on power and strength then the people who truly deserve high status would get it. Wouldn’t that be more fair?”

You inhaled sharply but knew better than to start an argument with him; when he got into moods like this, it was important to be calm and patient. Humming thoughtfully, you moved to sit next to him on the couch, running your fingers over his bicep. “You told me that rape is a common theme with this tribe. That they rape their opponents to make them feel humiliated, to empower them.” Arching an eyebrow, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “Do you really think it’s necessary to go that far?”

“Well, I mean, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, right? How else will they learn their lesson?” 

You bit your lip harshly, somewhat looking away. You knew he was only like this because of how damn mentally unstable he was, of how erratic his brain was. It was terrifying sometimes, but if you pushed him away, it would only make it worse. He needed to learn, and if you were the only one willing to teach, then so be it.

“How would you feel if somebody did that to me? What would you do?” you asked softly, looking back up at him. He blinked before immediately frowning, growling, “I’d fuck them up, that’s what I’d fuckin’ do. You’re mine, nobody touches you.”

“What if I did something really bad, though? What if I hurt someone really bad, and that’s what they were doing to punish me?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, babe, I’d still beat them to shit. I’m always going to protect you, you know that.”

“So you don’t think I deserve to be raped, even if I, like, really fucked up?”

“Of course not, what kind of question is--”

“Then why should other people deserve to be raped?”

He barely bit on his lip as he frowned. “It’s not the same-” he started to say, then paused, now looking deeper in thought. Yes, perhaps this was a concept that most could understand, perhaps it seemed like common sense. But you knew Bryce’s brain had always been different. Even when he was a child, he had a strange sense of humor, strange interests-- you weren’t sure if you had ever seen the man feel guilt. When you were younger, you had gotten quite easily frustrated with him. You couldn’t believe some of the things he said, the thoughts he had-- it absolutely baffled you. However, he truly was a scholar, an intellectual. He had made remarkable grades throughout his entire school life, and he excelled in philosophical and anthropological debates, despite how messed up his mind could be. It was as you grew older that you realized there was hope for him yet; he just needed guidance. Didn’t everyone, even if it was to different extents?

You could practically see his mind working, the gears whirring. A scholar like him could not simply accept the elementary argument “it’s not the same thing”, which was why he had cut himself off in the middle of saying it. He pondered for a few more moments before slowly sighing, looking down as he ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Okay, I-- maybe, maybe you’re right.” He spoke lowly, and you couldn’t help but feel pride that he was able to think himself out of what could have been the start of a dangerous obsession-- maybe he really was getting better. 

At least, that was what you thought, especially as he pulled you in to give you a sweet, seemingly apologetic kiss, his tongue sliding out to lovingly wrap around yours as his hands pulled you onto the comfort of his lap. The rest of your lazy Sunday afternoon consisted of kisses pressed all over your bare skin, hands feeling every inch of your body, your own fingers tangled through his soft hair as his eyes practically pierced through yours, shining with nothing but love and admiration. 

[nat-20s]

Top 5 Breakdowns over David Tennant- any fandom/show/ play you've seen? I really liked the dw one you did, just hoping you could expand over/ include other things he's been in.

Oh anon you are QUITE the enabler thank you.

So this is like half actual breakdown list and half just like David Tennant recommendations in general because I love that funky little scot.

+1. This isn’t going on the official list because I already did the previous list you mentioned (i’m glad you liked it, btw!!!) but yeah. Doctor Who. He plays the doctor in a very fuckin uhh mercutial way (he plays a lot of characters that way and I am 100% enamored by it every fuckin time he just does it SO WELL AUGH) and like highs were so high and the lows were so low and he was so FURIOUS AND CRUEL but also so GENTLE AND KIND and like oof!! The multifacetedness bitch!!!! That’s what it’s all about babey!!!

5. Good omens. I mean, duh. There was no fucking way I was gonna survive good omens. Like, honestly, even without miss tennant I wouldn’t have survived it because HA HA HA HA H O L Y SHIT MY FAVORITE BOOK FOR THE LAST DECADE WAS GETTING AN ACTUAL SCREEN ADAPTATION I GENUINELY DID NOT THINK WE WOULD EVER BE HERE THIS SHIT IS LIT. but then but THEN it was like. The way that he portrayed crowley definitely fit into a particular niche that david tennant KILLS. Like god okay I could spend an whole fucking essay on this point so I’m gonna distill this down to just. THE moment that I was like “okay okay okay okay fuck I’m GOING THROUGH IT” was when his voice cracks as he tells aziraphale that he lost his best friend because like in context OOF and out of context I have been Pavlovian trained for the past decade to Utterly Lose My Shit when David Tennant is like this close to crying and he expresses that with his whole body THE ASSHOLE! LET ME REST. I THOUGHT I WAS OVER THIS MISTER!!

4. The Escape Artist. Lesser known (I think?), but a VERY GOOD miniseries! The tone is much darker, and he’s a much more serious character. Similar vibes, role wise, to broadchurch. I’m not sure how much rewatch value it has but watching it for the first time had me like MISSION STATUS: SICK!!!! It’s like a cat and mouse mystery and like. I’m not gonna go to in depth into the story because I think it’s more enjoyable to go into it not knowing much and too me it was one of those things that took like 3 hours to watch all of and a full week or two to like. Process. Also I’m not usually one for drama and I was ABOUT it so I would recommend!!!

3. JESSICA JONES (season 1). Holy FUCK dude. Definitely his darkest and most evil role, and the subject matter is VERY heavy and I definitely would NOT recommend it for everyone because it could be, how you say, triggering as fuck or even just because it is incredibly dark and that might not be your thing. Funnily enough, it’s DEFINITELY not my thing, personally, I tend to avoid narratives about sexual assault because so many of them are, uh, ya know, bad, but Jessica Jones season 1 really is done FANTASTICALLY! The David Tennant breakdown was just a level of cognitive dissonance because I had never seen him play like a VILLAIN villain. I mean, yeah, he was Barty Crouch Jr., but that was for like 30 seconds and while the dude was creepy there was a layer of campy over the topness that is present in most fun fantasy franchises. I remember when he was cast as the purple man me and my parents were like. Yeah he’ll obviously crush the role because he’s talented but in the back of our minds we’ll probably still be thinking of like the doctor and I wonder if we can fully accept him playing the role. Yeah there was fucking NONE OF THAT. When he played Purple Man I never ONCE thought of his other roles and I didn’t even, like, think of David Tennant, ya know. I was just like oh shit this man is evil and terrifying and I want him dead! Please die!!! And yes, I know that that’s how acting works or whatever but also ACTING ya know!!! Of any of the roles on this list this one definitely made me be the most like SHE HAS THE RANGE because I really think it highlights how INCREDIBLY GOOD at his job he is!!! I have not ever rewatched Jessica Jones season 1 though because while it is honestly like a triumph of television it is also A Lot to deal with and I am very rarely in the kind of mindset where I’m able to watch it. But yeah. David Tennant knows what the fuck he’s doing and it is very good.

2. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING BABEY. Literally I knew nothing about the play or why I should care but the promo material was like. Catherine Tate and David Tennant are costars again and I was like OKAY SIGN ME THE FUCK UP HELL YEAH HELL YEAH HELL YEAH. For real I think on screen chemistry Catherine Tate and David Tennant are one of if not just straight up my favorite duo of all time. They are just so DELIGHTFUL and ENCHANTING and BEWITCHING and basically I want them to costar in everything ever. @azirafeathers was like “sherlock holmes adaptation where she’s sherlock and he’s watson” and I haven��t stopped thinking about that since!!! I would give my left thumb or at least like a solid $60 to see that. Like PLEASE it would be PERFECT. I LOVE THEM. And god this production of much ado is definitely like. “Here’s Benedick and Beatrice. They’re two chaotic dumbass bisexuals that are like fives on the kinsey scale and they fall in love much to their surprise” and it’s TERRIFIC. That’s exactly what I like to see. Like it’s set in the 80s and the set design? The visual gags? The costumes? The soundtrack? THE PHYSICAL COMEDY? It all SLAPS. David Tennant really balances “fun and funky slut” and “utterly PINING idiot” so fucking well. I have said it before and I will say it again David Tennant peaks when Catherine Tate is being mean to him. Also really iconic to give him the role that is like the only man in the play that is (after a bit) CHUGGING his respect women juice. I mean LOOK at this utter buffoon.

I’m in love. This play made me a proud morosexual. Plus it’s all FREE ON YOUTUBE THE NEXT TIME YOU HAVE THREE HOURS AND WANT TO HAVE A GOOD FUCKIN TIME GO WATCH MUCH ADO!!

1. H A M L E T. So imagine that you’re 14 and it’s 3 am and you’re casually watching David Tennant’s hamlet on youtube or at least the parts they put up and you’re painting stars on your ceiling with glow in the dark paint and it makes you realize that you have an excess of black bile and a melancholic temperment and you’ll understand why, while this might not be my all time favorite david tennant role (though it definitely is high up on the list) , this is absolutely my number one David Tennant Related Breakdown. Hoo boy. This probably doesn’t come as a shock to literally anybody that knows me irl bc I Will Not shut up about Hamlet and it is this productions fault. Different people will respond differently too it, and I’m definitely 1000% biased because a: I love him and b: it was the first production I ever watched and it’s what got me On My Bullshit, but this production honestly makes me like. Get Hamlet. Or not get hamlet, personally, as a character, we’re never meant to fully understand him honestly, but it made me understand the ALLURE of the play. I watched it and I was like oh. Yeah. Okay. I can see why people have been obsessed with this for 400 years. I know why it’s considered one of the greatest roles and one of the greatest plays of all time. And I went absolutely feral for it. It solidified Horatio permanently as one of my all time favorite characters in anything ever. David Tennant has this tendency to put manic and desperate energy into the characters that he plays, and that of course works extremely well for hamlet. Plus, like, he plays characters that are drowning, that need the assistance and kindness of love to try and float, and even with that might not be able to keep their heads above water, and the characters that are opposite him are basically always wonderful. Because I am deeply deeply predictable, the core dynamic of Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship is probably like THE most appealing and interesting and important aspect of the play to me, and Peter de Jersey (who is absolutely INCREDIBLE in this production) and David Tennant pull it of breathtakingly beautifully. Every time I watch this I have to lie down for a while. Every time I THINK about this I have to lie down for awhile. So, yeah, number one David Tennant based breakdown is over his hamlet.

Honorable mentions

this gifset-I have not seen what this is actually from but it made me have a conniption. I’m in love with her. She’s my idealized self. I don’t know what to do with myself. I spent 5 hours looking at this now. What the fuck. 

The Decoy Bride- I didn’t have a breakdown over it BUT it is a recommendation. Very silly rom com, very much a comfort movie like music and lyrics or singing in the rain for me. Great for sleep overs or rainy sunday afternoons. 

Richard II- I haven’t seen it but based on one (1) clip and some stills I would be lost in the sauce for a week after a viewing. 

Nativity 2: Danger in the Manger- watch nativity 2 danger in the manger. 

Fright Night- jesus fucking CHRIST mister tennant went full slut

Casanova- Mister Tennant Goes Full Slut part 2- has blue colored contacts and it’s weird

[juicehoee]

All Along the Watchtower {Chapter 6: Catnip} (Juice Ortiz)

One/Two/Three/Four/Five/Six

Chapter Six: Catnip

“Isn’t she a beauty?”

Juice’s newly bought Jeep sat proudly in his driveway, shiny and modern in all of it’s camouflage glory. He almost second guessed the camo pattern, but ultimately decided that the whole thing just reflected his personality too much to turn down.

It was a sunny afternoon built for cruising around the neighborhood on their bikes, but Juice was much more interested in taking his new Jeep for a joyride with the doors off. He decided he needed something to go back and forth from Nevada with that would be a bit easier on his back and could carry a bit more stuff with him. It was hard to pack all his shit in a little mesh backpack that barely had room for a toothbrush and he was sure Uncle Lenny was wary about his precious niece being on the back of his bike all the time (even though Uncle Lenny had his own hog in the backyard in pristine condition).

Juice and Opie stood around the back of the Jeep, Juice admiring the exterior while Opie stared part in shock and part in disbelief of the younger man’s purchase. Jax was around the front, checking out the engine. In truth, Opie thought it looked like something out of that Kardashian show (not that he had ever watched it, or would admit that he’d seen it) and those girls just had bad taste, in his public opinion.

“Well,” Opie’s eyebrows furrowed, not quite sure of what to say to Juice. “Sure. If that’s your kind thing, then it’s perfect.”

“You really mean that?” Juice asked, touched in his heart by Opie’s words.

“Yup. Meant every word of it.” Opie pat Juice on the back. “You did good, Juicy.”

Jax came around to meet them at the trunk of the Jeep. “Kinda looks like something you’d see Kylie Jenner driving around Calabasas.”

Juice took a step back with wide brown eyes. “You know about Kylie Jenner?”

“Yeah,” Jax shot back, defensive. “Anyone with an internet connection has heard of Kylie Jenner. She’s everywhere, you can’t really miss her. Right, Ope?”

Opie shook his head side to side and put his hands up, trying to stay out of it. “Nah, brother. Don’t know who that is.”

Opie gave Juice a knowing glance while Jax was looking the other way and Juice shot him a thumbs up behind his back. Jax was none the wiser. It was so easy to get him riled up over random shit, so Juice and Opie made a game out of it to see who could get him to lose his shit the fastest.

“You really good with all that camo, Juicy?” Jax asked, inspecting the car with a judgmental scrutiny that he could have only learned from his mother. “You’re sure you’ll be able to find it in the parking lot?”

“Jeez, you’re funny.” Juice clapped Jax on the shoulder. “Stop with the humor, funny man. There’s a stitch in my side.”

“I’m just saying, man.” Jax said. “You didn’t want black or blue or something like that?”

Jax’s nose was two centimeters away from the Jeep’s bumper and Juice entertained the thought of kicking the back of his knees in to get him to trip, but refrained from it. He didn’t answer the question (he didn’t think he needed to, it was his truck for God’s sake and he really liked it).

“I like the camo.” Juice said, shrugging. “It’s not like I can show up with a receipt and get store credit for the thing anyway.”

“Can you get me a water or something from inside?” Opie turned to Juice. “My throat’s a little scratchy.”

As Juice jogged up the driveway and into his front door, Opie grabbed Jax by the collar and shoved him forward. Opie slugged him in the kidney real quick, glancing at the door to see if Juice had come back yet. He hadn’t.

“What the hell was that for?” Jax yelled. “Kidney hits fuckin’ hurt.”

“Stop being a dickhead about the damn Jeep, Jax.” Opie grumbled. “The kid’s excited about it and my truck’s a piece of crap but I’d knock around anyone who gave me shit for it. Give Juice a break, he’s pussy-whipped and he just bought a camo Jeep. Let him live a little without makin’ him feel bad about it.”

“Fine, fine.” Jax agreed. “I’ll let up on him a little bit.”

Inside, Juice was grabbing them all a few waters when Dolly and Shiloh came rubbing against his legs. They were being suspiciously nice which, in Juice’s experience, usually meant they wanted something. The food bowl was full. So was the water dish. There had to be something else.

“You sneaky bastards want catnip, don’t you?” Juice said, scratching them both behind the ears. “Well, alright. You know I spoil you.”

They just stared at him, but the meows started going when he opened the cabinet he kept the catnip in. Sometimes, they were smarter than he gave them credit for. They were a lot like him in that way, he figured. Underestimated.

Dolly and Shiloh were practically jumping to reach his hands as he sprinkled it on the floor for them to roll around in for a good fifteen minutes. It must be nice to have such a simple life where fifteen minutes of catnip could keep them happy for the next week. That, and the fact these spoiled cats get to sleep in his comfortable king size bed gave them a pretty content life. He envied it.

“Jesus, Juicy! Get back out here!” Jax yelled through the front window. “You can jack off later after we leave!”

With a dramatic sense of gusto, Juice fled out the front door, grabbing the three water bottles from the counter on the way out. He tried not to look too flustered. Hopefully, his face didn’t look too red to his friends when he emerged from the house.

“What were you doing in there?” Opie asked, catching the water bottle Juice tossed to him.

“Shut up.” Juice mumbled. “I was feeding my cats.”

“You have cats?” Opie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Jax smiled, a malicious grin taking over his face. “You didn’t know that? He’s got two of ‘em. What are their names again?”

��Dolly and Shiloh.” Juice answered. “I’m not ashamed of my cats. Actually pretty proud of them. They’re self sufficient.”

“Dolly?” Opie asked. “As in Dolly Parton?”

“Yeah,” Juice shrunk into his boots. “Not so proud of that though. I had a weird country phase the week I got them.”

“You sure it wasn’t about the fake tits?” Jax smirked.

Juice considered this for a second. “Yeah, it might have been a little bit about the fake tits.”

Hanging around with Jax and Opie like buddies was a rare occurrence for Juice. Only a couple months ago, he had been a prospect and everyone looked down on him (quite literally since he spent most of his time cleaning out the toilets). Even now, most of the guys treated him like a prospect, and technically, he was still a new guy. Jax and Opie got down off their high horses once in a while to treat him like a brother, like an equal, and those times were like beer that Juice could guzzle down a gallon of on a hot summer Sunday. He liked having buddies. He liked having brothers.

“You wanna go for a joyride in this thing?” Juice asked, dangling the shiny new keys to his shiny new Jeep. “Might as well break it in to go grocery shopping. Super exciting stuff.”

“Take it to Nevada. Impress that pretty little thing you’ve been daydreaming about.” Opie laughed. “She better be worth all the shit you’re putting into this.”

“She is.” Juice said. “She really fucking is.”

“She better be,” Jax chimed in. “You’re worth it, Juicy. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. And if they do, punch ‘em in the nuts.”

“And if it’s a woman who tries to bring you down, just send ‘em to Gemma.” Opie hugged Juice for a moment. “She’ll take care of that issue real quick, believe me.”

“Thanks, guys.” Juice fought the emotional tears welling behind his eyes. He meant it.

Damn, it was fucking good to have brothers.

{***}

“Hey, stranger. Need a ride?”

Juice pulled up beside Lana on the sidewalk as she was walking down the street. He knew he’d have to talk to her sooner or later and it would take the pressure off of his shoulders. The idea of cutting this whole thing off was like a fat rock pressing down on his chest and it was starting to put a damper on him. Better do it now when Clay and Tig were out of sight. Tig gave him a good beating that had left him with a solid bruise under his left eye and a cut on his lip that hurt like a bitch every time he tried to eat anything hot. Buffalo chicken was out of the question until at least next week, and Juice knew he needed this pain to fuel the conversation with Lana that was about to ensue. He hoped they could still be friends.

“Juice?” Lana furrowed her brows. “Is this- did you just buy this?”

“Yeah.” he twiddled his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Get in, I need to talk to you without Tig beating my face in.”

“Are you trying to lure me into your car, Mr. Ortiz?” Lana asked. “I’ve watched To Catch a Predator. Can’t trust anyone. Chris Hansen taught me that.”

“I’m serious, Svetlana.” He was surprised he used her full name. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

It killed him to put on such a cold front, but Gemma was the wisest person he knew when it came to women, what they wanted, what they needed. He felt so lost and naive when it came to relationships and Gemma seemed so happy with Clay. He just wanted a girl who would ride on the back of his bike in thirty years and not get tired of him. He wanted what Clay and Gemma had. Might as well follow her advice seeing as he was swirling down a dark path with Lana and he needed to stop it before things got worse for him.

“Okay.” She looked hurt as she climbed into the car. “I like the camo.”

“I don’t want to lead you on anymore.” Juice said, trying his best to be blunt but gentlemanly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you and I shouldn’t have taken you home that night. You’re nineteen, you need a nice college boy who will take you to parties and make sure you get home okay. You don’t need me.”

“But I like you, Juice.” Lana said. “I mean, if you don’t want to be with me, I understand that, but if you’re gonna pull some angsty Hollywood movie bullshit about how you’re not good for me, then I’ll tuck and roll out of this Jeep right now.”

Lana’s voice had an aggression in it (she must have learned it from Gemma, it sounded very Gemma-like) but she wouldn’t look at him. Instead, her eyes were glued in her lap and her dainty fingers played with the fringe of the ripped denim shorts she wore. There was an instablility in her hands that made him shake and he prayed his hands wouldn’t shake that bad or he’d have to pull over the car (and he really needed to get to the damn grocery store before it closed, he was running out of chocolate-covered raisins).

“I’m seeing someone.” Juice said. “A girl in Nevada. I really like her and she’s been really good for me. If things keep going well, I might ask her to move in with me.”

“In Charming?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” Juice said. “Considering that I currently live in Charming.”

“You really gotta be a smartass with me right now?” Lana snapped. “Were you seeing her before you kissed me?”

Juice froze. He didn’t think about it like that. His brain stopped working and he ran through a red light, much to the chagrin of the beeping drivers around him.

“Yeah.” he said. “Nothing official, but I was going to Nevada to see her a bunch.”

Her hands clenched into fists, leaving little red crescents in the soft flesh of her palms. She didn’t care. How could he have been so fucking selfish? It was humiliating to be played by him in front of the whole club. In front of Clay. In front of Tig. In front of Jax. They all knew about it and they would al know that she was rejected. She was just some little kid trying to put on her big girl pants and be part of the club when they all wished she would move away to paint shit and go to class.

“What the fuck, Juice?” her voice was low, but strong, on the verge of her breaking point. “How could you lead me on like that? How could you do that to me?”

“Did you really think there was ever a chance for us, Lana? I mean, it didn’t seem ridiculous for us to be together?” Juice rose his voice. “You really think we would have survived with Clay and Tig trying to beat the shit out of me for even looking at you?”

“Don’t fucking yell at me, Juan.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” Juice yelled louder. “Thanks to you, I’ve got two black eyes and a split lip and Clay’s gonna bury me somewhere in the woods before I even get anywhere with the Sons! This club means everything to me and I put that in jeopardy because I knew you needed a friend.”

“So you were just my friend for five minutes because you pitied me? You kissed me and took me home with you because you pitied me?” Lana threw her hands up, incredulous. She was no longer quiet. “That’s fucked up, Juice.”

“That’s not-”

“You think I’m just some pathetic little kid who can’t handle her own. Who’s stupid and helpless and needs someone to hold her fucking hand while she cries.” Lana fumed. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Yeah? You don’t need my pity?” Juice said, looking over at her. “Then stop fucking going around feeling sorry for yourself like a damn puppy with her tail between her legs and then you won’t look so damn pathetic-”

Juice’s words were cut off by Lana reaching for the steering wheel and jerking it to the right, forcing the car to swerve to the side of the road. His stomach lurched and sank like a rock as they went flying. He couldn’t breath. His lungs were dead. (If there’s a fucking scratch on my new car, she’s fucking dead.)

Juice’s arm jutted out to his right and slammed Lana’s back against the passenger seat to prevent her from flying through the windshield. Gunshots rang out on all sides, bullets embedding themselves into the interior. He can see the silver rip the leather all around him in slow motion. His heart doesn’t speed up as he goes delves into his instinct, grabbing Lana by the neck and shoving her down.

“Don’t get up!” he screamed and floored the gas, speeding away from whoever was shooting at them.

In the chaos, Juice didn’t pick up much of whatever was going on outside; he was too focused on making sure neither him nor Lana bit the dust in his brand fucking new Jeep (he couldn’t return it with bullets lodged in the sides. Damn.) However, he did see that shiny motorcycles surrounded him on all sides, and that’s where the bullets must have been coming from. Some guy was on the ground, sprawled out and covered in blood, next to his bike closest to the side of the road. The bike was smashed and so was the guy’s skull; brain matter covered the ground in a death sentence Juice would have nightmares about for weeks. These must be the Roman Skulls MC Clay was worried about.

They must be new. A daylight drive-by reeked of amateurs trying to nudge their way into outlaw territory.

Shots still fired as he burned rubber to get the hell out of there. His tires marked the ground and the car groaned under the pressure of the accelerator. What a big hunk of metal.

The shots slowed the farther he got, but a bullet caught him in the arm at the last second, right above his elbow. Juice screamed in agony, but focused on the road before him and put the pedal to the floor, hightailing it to the SAMCRO clubhouse. Blood poured out of his arm and Lana tried to get up to fix the wound.

“Stay down!” he barked. “Don’t get out of the car until Clay or someone comes and gets you!”

Juice tore his neck around to see if they followed. They didn’t. Maybe these guys weren’t complete numbskulls. If they had any sense, they’d be hightailing back to wherever the hell they came from.

{***}

Chibs and Bobby were in the office talking to Gemma when an obnoxious camouflage Jeep shredded the concrete in the parking lot. Chibs immediately stormed out of there, ready to put the idiot in his place when he saw Juice in the front seat of the car. Next, he noticed the bullet holes in the side of the car.

Juice grabbed a sweatshirt from the backseat and used it to quell the bleeding of his arm until Chibs could stitch him up in their makeshift hospital. It stung, but it looked like a through-and-through: two clean bullet holes with no slug lodged inside him. Count him lucky, but it still hurt like a bitch.

“Don’t get out until someone gets you. I don’t think they followed us, but you’re not getting a bullet in your head on my watch.” Juice ordered.

Juice climbed out of the car, holding his arm tight. Chibs rushed over, holding the half-assed tourniquet and leading him inside to where he could assess the damage. It didn’t look like Juice was gonna bleed out, but he was getting woozy from blood loss. There was just so much fucking blood.

He never did well with blood. When he was ten years old, he tripped and fell off of his skateboard, smashing his face into the side of a telephone pole. Seeing the blood on his hands, Juice had passed out and his sister found him a few minutes later. Things had gotten better, but Juice still hadn’t shaken the queasy feeling he always felt at the sight of blood. He was a Son now; he’d have to toughen up.

“Lana’s in the passenger seat. Not hit. Someone go get her.” Juice struggled out between labored breaths. “She’s fine.”

“BOBBY!” Chibs yelled. “GET LANA IN THE FRONT SEAT!”

Juice leaned against Chibs heavily, feeling his head grow lighter than a balloon. At any moment, he could float away through the clouds, away from Charming, and away from the Sons. He pictured flying all the way to Nevada down in Priscilla’s backyard so he could catch a last glimpse of her before he came crashing down, probably getting caught in a tree or something dumb like that.

“Juicy boy, are ya-”

[words-and-fangirling-wonder]

A is for Anniversary Part 2

Well, after an inexcusable length of time, here’s part 2 of Anniversary. One last part and then I’m on to P (spoiler, P is for Parents)! I would apologize and make excuses for the delay again, but I think this is just who I am as a person and I should probably just accept it at this point. I’ll do my best to be more regular with updates, though!

This part is from Law’s point of view. 

Author: fangirlwonder (wordsandwonder on AO3)

Pairing: Kid/Law

Prompt: Anniversary

Rating: Teen, but only for swearing and stuff, I don’t know I’m bad at rating

Beta’d by: @fitgirlfaith24

Eustass talked in his sleep. Most of the time, especially on the frequent occasions that insomnia got the best of him, Law found this little quirk rather endearing. It was nice to have a source of entertainment on those sleepless nights. Sometimes he even wrote down the things his boyfriend muttered in the wee hours of the morning. His favorites were “Just wait! I’ll be the queen of Tokyo!” and the indignant “Chalkmouth! That’ll teach you to yell at me in class.”

Of course, sometimes these nighttime utterances weren’t so much adorable as they were slightly terrifying. Like the time Eustass had asked Law to bring him a machete, and when the doctor questioned him he rolled over, looked Law dead in the eye, and in a deadly serious voice informed him, “I don’t take prisoners.” Or the time he hummed thoughtfully before saying “Yes, bayonets would be more effective.”

But other times? Eustass’s sleepy murmurings were … illuminating. For example, just two weeks ago the mechanic revealed that he was excitedly planning a surprise party for Law’s birthday. Considering how much Law hated surprises, it was probably for the best that his boyfriend unknowingly spoiled it, because then Law avoided an uncomfortable night and a fight on his birthday. Instead, he was able to pretend to be caught off guard, enjoy his night, and celebrate his birthday the only way he really wanted to with Eustass after all the guests had gone. And now, if Law had heard correctly, the redhead had gone from clinging to his arm and calling him a “pesky little spider monkey” to admitting how excited he was for their six-month anniversary. This Sunday. And then something about loving pizza. But the important thing was the anniversary.

Very illuminating.

See, maybe it was because he’d been under a lot of pressure at work lately, or because there had been a recent flare-up of drama with his uncle, but Law had forgotten all about their anniversary. If he was being honest with himself, though, it probably didn’t have anything to do with those outside factors. No, he probably forgot because he’d only ever had a relationship last over six months once before, and keeping track of romantic longevity had become a somewhat depressing activity for him, so he’d simply stopped forcing himself to think about it. He didn’t naturally tend to pay attention to that kind of thing anyway. But now that oversight was smacking him in the face, because he was watching Eustass as he muttered excitedly about what was apparently going to be the “best anniversary ever” and damn it if the man wasn’t smiling about it. And maybe with someone else that wouldn’t really matter that much to Law, but seeing his boyfriend grin in his sleep brought an answering smile to Law’s face, and that was how he knew that for whatever reason, it did matter with Eustass.

Six months. Wow. Law couldn’t help but be a little impressed, as well as slightly grossed out as he realized that the cheesy cliché ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ was uncomfortably fitting to their situation. Law normally found relationships to be very trying and almost endlessly exhausting. Definitely more trouble than they were worth. But Eustass … being with Eustass really was fun. And more than that, it had become as natural as breathing to him. In fact, their relationship was something he was so used to, so comfortable with, that he forgot sometimes how rare that kind of connection was. But now, thanks to Eustass’s sleep-talking, he remembered, and he could do his part to make sure this really was the best anniversary ever. Or at least a decent one. Being romantic tended to be a struggle for the doctor, but he was stubborn and persistent, and if those two things couldn’t be used to plan a special anniversary he didn’t know what could.

Slowly easing his arm out of Eustass’s grip, he rolled over and clicked on his bedside lamp before fishing out the notebook and pen he’d taken to keeping in the top drawer of his nightstand to record the midnight gibberish his boyfriend so frequently spouted. He flipped past several completely filled pages until he came to a blank one and began writing.

Things Eustass Likes

1.       Cars

2.       Playing Volleyball

3.       Watching Football

4.       Things to do with Cars

5.       Me

6.      

Law stared at number six for a solid five minutes, chewing on the already abused end of his pen, before laying back with a frustrated growl. “This is woefully unhelpful.”

“Yeah, well. Fuckin’ gimme a fuckin’ bastard burrito, shit-face burrito stealer. Fuck,” Eustass suggested helpfully.

After checking to make sure his boyfriend was in fact still talking in his sleep and not awake and crudely demanding a burrito, Law chuckled and jotted down the newest quote before returning his “Eustass” notebook and pen to their drawer. He’d never been able to come up with ideas like that when he sat down and tried to focus on them anyway. Something would probably come to him. He hoped.

+++

Nothing came to him. Nothing. He laid awake all night and not a single useful thought came to mind. The best thing his overtired brain had suggested was to get Eustass a bouquet of balloons that spelled his name, and that was simply absurd. Eustass hated balloons (and staunchly refused to tell Law why). Besides, it would be nearly impossible to keep them in the proper order to spell “EUSTASS,” and Law was not going to give his boyfriend a bouquet of balloons that spelled “SUATSES” or some other such nonsense. But now when he tried to think of something all Law could picture was a bouquet of fucking balloons and he was at his wit’s end.

He’d kicked Eustass out earlier with a kiss and a demand that the redhead come back after work and then he’d paced around his apartment trying to think of something, anything, that could be romantic but not generic and stupid and for the love of God not balloons. But now it was nearly three in the afternoon and he had resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to be able to make this a special anniversary like this. Perhaps a change of venue. He’d successfully purchased things for people before. Maybe if he went to the store he would be inspired.

When he stepped out of his apartment building the air smelled like winter despite the fact that it wasn’t even Halloween, and Law smiled as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He loved the cold. He watched his breath puff in front of his face like a cloud of smoke as he started his car and plugged the audio cable already connected to the jack on his dash into his phone. He briefly wondered if that would be a good gift for Eustass; an audio cable for his car. Eustass had said on a few occasions that he hated driving in silence, but he hated the radio too. But then Law remembered that the mechanic not only didn’t have an audio jack in his car, but he also didn’t have a phone that could store or play music because the man was living in the stone age. He’d get Eustass a phone if he thought he’d accept it, but it was more likely that he’d just throw it at the doctor and then they’d get in a fight and spoil the mood. So that was out.

Resisting the urge to bash his forehead repeatedly against the steering wheel, Law focused on driving and made his way to the first store he could think of that probably sold cards. Maybe once he found the perfect card the rest would fall into place. Yeah. That would work. He could do this.

When he was still standing in front of the greeting card display about an hour later, Law was forced to admit that finding the perfect card was perhaps more difficult than he had originally imagined, and that perhaps he could not do this.

“Need help finding anything?” Law unintentionally gave the slightly bored looking salesgirl a dark look, startling her. “Uh, sorry, I’ll just … uh, leave you to it then …” she muttered.

“No, wait!” he said, ignoring the desperate pitch of his voice as he reached for her before she could fully retreat. “I’m sorry. I may … possibly … need some assistance, yes.”

Part of him wanted to roll his eyes at himself. If he couldn’t find an anniversary card for his own boyfriend how was some underpaid teenage girl going to help him? But at this point his vision was starting to go a little blurry around the edges from exhaustion and frustration, and he just needed a card, damnit.

“O-kay,” she said slowly, returning to his side and looking him over with a small amount of concern showing in her brown eyes. “What are you looking for?”

“A card. Uh, an anniversary card.”

“Oh. Okay, well, you know you’re in front of the Halloween cards, right? That’s why they’re all so … orange?”

Law sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I know, I just thought I should … explore all my options.”

“Ah,” she replied, kindly acting like his reasoning made any kind of sense. “Well, I think we might have better luck over by the anniversary cards, if you don’t mind?”

“Yes, uh, perhaps you’re right,” he muttered, following her past the sea of ghosts and jack-o-lanterns to a selection of cards that were mostly white or pastel colored.

“So tell me a little about your significant other. What do they like?”

“Well, uh … cars? And volleyball, and uh … action movies and other things like that, I suppose.”

“Okay, so I’m guessing something cutesy is out. How about this one? This one has been popular lately.”

Law took the plain card with simple lettering she offered and read the front before shaking his head and handing it back. “That would just be insulting. I don’t like pizza at all.”

“What kind of person doesn’t like pizza?” the girl asked incredulously.

The dark look from before returned. “Pizza has bread. I hate bread.”

Law was used to people’s disbelieving reaction to this admission, so it threw him off for a moment when instead of looking dumbstruck the girl’s surprised expression also held a flicker of recognition, like she was putting together pieces of a puzzle.

“You don’t like bread?”

“No, I don’t like bread. Are we going to discuss my eating habits or are we going to find a damn card? What about that one? That has a car on it,” he snapped.

The girl ignored his outburst and rolled her eyes when she saw what Law was pointing at. “That’s cutesy.”

“How is it cutesy?”

“An elephant is driving, for one thing,” she said with a note of finality that let Law know he would not be leaving the store with that card. “How about this one?” She held up another plain card that said Turns Out I Like You a Lot More Than I Originally Planned. Law chuckled and couldn’t help but agree. That was pretty accurate to their relationship, and he and Eustass had joked about it on more than one occasion. That could actually work.

“Yes, I like it,” he said, still smiling a little as he took the card from the girl. “Thank you, uh …”

“Nami,” she supplied helpfully, offering her hand. “I hope you and your boyfriend have a great anniversary.”

Law nodded and they parted ways. His original plan had been to browse around the store, but he’d spent too much time looking at cards and now he had to hurry home if he wanted to beat Eustass there, so he just went straight to the checkout. He could come back before work tomorrow or Saturday.

He was in such a rush to get out of there that he was halfway to his car before it occurred to him to wonder how the girl who helped him had known his partner was a man. He furrowed his brows, trying to think if he’d mentioned it, but he was sure he hadn’t. He tossed the bag holding his card into the passenger seat and let the car warm up a moment as he mused.  It was odd. She must have just been guessing. His eyes slid to the card, just poking out of the brown paper bag, and he decided it didn’t matter. She’d helped him overcome at least one anniversary hurdle. Now all that was left was a gift, and probably some kind of gesture or event or something that would be romantic and unique and Law could handle that. Probably.