#this a fic

[loliwrites]

No one asked for this and if you've never seen The West Wing, you probably don't care. But the chokehold these two have on me. It's just a whole lot of pining and fluff.

AU of 4.10 Arctic Radar if Jack hadn't asked Donna out for drinks that night.

“The two CBO reports are right on your desk, as is the East Asia paper. Your call sheet is clear. If there’s anything else, I’m happy to come in early tomorrow. Do you think I could go?” Donna wrapped her scarf around her neck, dejected. Of all the things she’d ever done for Josh, and how little she tended to ask of him, his little trip down memory lane with Jack Reese was just the icing on the cake. 

“What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight,” she grabbed her bag. Somehow they both knew he was going to let her flee.

“Sure,”

Donna pulled on her long, wool coat and fastened the buttons to keep it closed. By the time she reached outside, the cold November air would be in full force and she wouldn’t have the hands to secure them.

“Those are good stories about you, though,” Josh paused, giving the briefest of thoughts back to Donna’s underwear and Karen Cahill debacle. “Those stories would make me like you.” It also wasn’t lost on him that those stories had made him like her.

“You like everybody,” she folded a note into her pocket and grabbed her bags.

“Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. You won’t be coming in early tomorrow. You won’t be coming in at all,” 

“Is there anything you need?” Despite whatever feelings she was having at the moment – of seemingly being forgone by her latest crush, there was true sincerity in her tone.

Josh wished in that moment she hadn’t sounded so sincere. He wished she hadn’t asked him that at all. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve her kindness when he’d so flagrantly decided to tell Jack those anecdotes. It was true, he did like those stories. Those stories were endearing. The minutiae added up to the whole of this woman he simply couldn’t live without. “No, I’m just saying,”

“Okay,” she flung her bag over her shoulder and left the bullpen. “Happy Thanksgiving,”

“You too,”

And yes, telling Jack those stories had been a decision, albeit not one laced with intended malice or meant to sabotage. How could someone not like those stories? How could someone hear those and not fall a little more in love with her? Josh had genuinely thought he’d been doing her a favor. If he liked these things, any man would. Any man would be lucky to have the woman in those stories. Had the roles been reversed, and he was hearing these stories for the first time, he’d have stormed the halls of the West Wing to find her. He wasn’t sure why Jack hadn’t, though he had to admit there was a hearty amount of relief that he’d hadn’t. 

It was unfair of him, he knew that too. How many times in the past had he sabotaged her dates, advertently or not? He kept her at work late. Gave her stacks of work she’d never get through, knowing she had dinner plans. It was work she’d have to do eventually, but it wasn’t so pressing that she miss a dinner date. His recurring jokes about Dr. Freeride. And more than a few times, he’d leave her with a parting comment that the man she was going out with was a dud. Or an idiot. Or a jackass. Or a subspecies of bipedal man. And when she’d come back from those dates, he wasn’t nearly surprised that she’d come to those same conclusions. Yes, it was beyond unfair. Donna had been nothing but supportive with the rise and fall of Mandy. And the re-emergence of Mandy. She championed him to go for Joey Lucas. She was even a cheerleader to his relationship with Amy. Even when Josh would recount all their horrible arguments to her, Donna was supportive every time they reconciled. And here he was, subconsciously (or not) sabotaging every lead she got on a relationship.

“Hi Ma,” he blurted into the phone and tilted his head to the side to cradle the receiver between his cheek and shoulder. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten to this point. Hadn’t remembered returning to his office or hearing the phone ring. 

“Hi Joshua, happy Thanksgiving,”

“Happy Thanksgiving,”

“Roberta told me there was a cold front moving through the northeast. Said it looks like it’s gonna be pretty bad so stay safe with your plans tomorrow,”

Josh glanced down at his watch and then rubbed one of his eyes with the back of his fist. “I will Ma, I’ll probably just be here,”

She tsked him, “you don’t have to work, do you? Where’s Donna? Did she go to Wisconsin this year?”

“Donna’s in town.”

“Well invite her ‘round,”

He nodded like an obedient son, “okay.”

“Joshua, I mean it. Throw a turkey in the oven for that girl. She does enough for you every other day.”

“Jesus, okay Ma.”

“I’m just saying, cook her a goddamn meal.”

He nodded again, “I will, I will. Scout’s honor. Look, Ma, I’m gonna pack up and get out of here. I love you,”

“I love you too,”

They both clicked the line dead almost simultaneously. Josh sat stunned in his desk chair for a moment. He stared at the phone and after a second, chuckled. Florida had turned his mom a little more… spicy than she’d been in his youth. He took a second to think about what his dad would say about this new version of his wife. Probably would’ve doted on her just as much. But before the emotions could fully sneak up on him, Josh took a deep breath and stood up from his desk. Inspired by his mother’s words, he threw on his jacket, flung his backpack over his shoulder, and all but ran out of the West Wing.

He wasn’t really sure what he was going to do – or say. What could he do or say that would make things better? Short of going back to Jack and really giving him a piece of his mind. Because all Josh really wanted to say to him was that there was no way in hell he deserved Donna. If he didn’t like those quirky and off-color stories about her, then he didn’t deserve the girl who also had stories that were a little more wholesome.

Like the time she left the festivities after the Illinois primary, booked herself a one-way ticket on some ragtag regional airline, and got herself to Connecticut eleven hours after Josh had gotten there. She was still new in his life by all accounts and had never met his parents. But having her there for his father’s funeral had meant everything to him.

Or all the times she’d been there for him after Rosslyn. She literally kept work away from him. She cooked for him. She cleaned for him. She nursed him back to health. And he knows that had he asked, she would’ve bathed him too. Though he’d never ask. She had run herself ragged for the months of his recovery. Most nights she never made it back to her apartment. When he’d become mobile again, he often found her curled up on his couch in the morning. 

And then, for the second time that evening, Josh wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here. He remembered stopping by the liquor store for a six pack. He thought he’d finish those off by himself. But he hadn’t remembered how he’d gotten here. At the steps of her apartment, looking up at her window. He knew she was awake. He could see the light coming from her great-grandmother’s lamp. He always teased her about that lamp. It was gaudy. It gathered dust. And for some reason unbeknownst to him, it gave off this low frequency buzz whenever it also gave off light. He ascended the steps, keeping his eyes on her window for as long as humanly possible, and only pulled his gaze away from it so he could ring her buzzer. Waiting and waiting, and growing colder and impatient, he rang the buzzer again. It wasn’t like her to leave someone – anyone – waiting outside. Then with a particularly strong and cold breeze, Josh ran his hand down the line of buzzers to the other apartments in the building. Surely one of them would ring him in. 

God bless the tenant on the second floor.

Josh whipped the door open and ascended the old wooden stairs, two at a time. He kept his hand on the banister as he turned the corner and ran up the next flight. Just as Donna had been to his apartment countless times, he’d been to hers too. Usually he was drunk and yelling at her roommate’s cats. And by the following morning never remembered why he’d been there in the first place, but he had been there before. Now as he knocked on her door as gently as he could as to not startle her, he hoped he’d be happy to remember this night.

He heard the chain on the door slide and when the door started to creak open, he raised his gaze and soon found himself staring upon Donna.

“Hi,” he offered, taking a moment to take in the sight. She was wrapped in the enormous flannel blanket he knew usually lived on the back of her couch. It didn’t look as though she’d been crying, though her expression didn’t exactly look pleased. “I brought a peace offering,” he lifted the six pack and flashed an overcompensating smile on his face, hoping she didn’t slam the door on him.

Donna glanced at the beer, then pulled the door open a little wider and stepped to the side to let him in. Josh took that as a win and Donna figured as much. Truth be told, she didn’t exactly know what she was feeling. It was no secret that her past romantic exploits hadn’t gone spectacularly well. From Dr. Freeride and the lobbyist who couldn’t shut his trap about his agenda once he found out she worked for the deputy chief of staff. To any number of blind, and otherwise, dates she’d been set up on. And perhaps the worst of all was her last more serious encounter – Cliff Calley. Serious. What a joke, she thought. It had been two nights that were great, followed by two depositions that weren’t. Not to mention the sheer and utter embarrassment of having her boss hand over her diary to Cliff for him to read. She could’ve died in her skin right then and there. Not to mention the trouble and grief she’d put Josh through. And thank God he’d been mature… or sane… enough to realize that he didn’t need to read her diary to make it all go away. Perhaps he would’ve been confused why he showed up so often in her nightly recounts of the day.

“I really am sorry, Donna,” Josh offered again as he rounded into her kitchen and pulled open the drawer where he knew the bottle opener was kept.

“Quit apologizing. What are you, moonlighting as a Canadian?” She took the open bottle and downed a first sip. “I’ve already done that,”

He suppressed a smile as he popped off the cap to a beer for himself. On their way out of the kitchen, he reached forward and clinked his bottle against hers for good measure. “I wasn’t trying to ruin that for you,”

“I know that, Josh.”

“I mean it,”

“I know,” she folded one leg beneath her and sat back down on the couch. The blanket fell away from her shoulders as she moved to take another sip.

“Are you mad at me?”

Donna imagined that’s how Josh sounded as a child and had been the thing he’d asked his parents countless times after Joanie. Always searching for a sort of validation. Proof that he had been wrong or bad and was worthy of the anger; most of which he felt within himself. Just as she suspected his parents had, Donna couldn’t summon too much anger at him. Sure he knew how to push her buttons. And knew how to rile her up and piss her off. But the anger was always short lived and she’d be left with a sense of enduring love.

She took another sip of her beer and settled back against the couch as Josh sat at the other end of it, angled toward her with one leg crossed under the other and his free hand stretched across the back of the couch. “You did a fool thing, but… I expect you to do fool things. You’re a man, you can’t help it.”

“Donna,” he half-whined.

“Well I haven’t exactly seen you knock one out of the park when it comes to women. Watching you try to flirt is almost as painful as watching you do a press briefing.” She smiled, vindicated when he choked on his beer and coughed. “It’s just like that time you told the entirety of the communications staff about the history of our non-anniversary,”

“But that’s a good story, too.”

“But you got it wrong.”

Josh opened his mouth to speak but he quieted himself. It wasn’t worth saying that he only got the story wrong because she had told him a wrong version of the story. He’d reiterated the story as he’d been told by her. He couldn’t help if she had recounted a false narrative to him. But that wasn’t worth it. Being right wasn’t the point right now. 

“Despite what you say, guys don’t go out with everyone. At least not the ones worth anything. They want a well-to-do woman, not an assistant. And if by some stroke of luck or charm they can look past my job title, they can’t look past the fact you’re my boss.” Upon seeing a hint of a smile cross Josh’s face, Donna extended her leg and kicked him. She managed to pull her leg back before Josh was able to grab hold of her ankle, though he did try. Maybe a part of her wished she hadn’t been too quick. Or that he had been quicker. “Anyway, I really like Jack. So much so, that he’s the type of person I could see a lot of potential with. That’s why I asked you to talk me up to him. I didn’t imagine you’d do such a spectacularly awful job at it.”

“Donna, I think you’re missing a big aspect of this–”

“Josh,” she leaned forward and set her bottle down on the coffee table, effectively trying to cut him off completely. But he wasn’t having any of it.

“No, no, listen. Would you really, honestly want a guy that wasn’t endeared by those stories? I mean, your future husband is going to hear these so-called embarrassing–”

“Not so-called, they are.”

“Your future husband’s going to hear these and he’s going to think less of you for them? You’re gonna spend the rest of your life with a guy who you have to censor yourself around? Donna, I’m pretty sure you were attending your town’s Holland-fest, dressed in wooden clogs and a funky, white pilgrim hat well into your college years. You’re gonna have to hide a lot of your life from this husband.”

She shot up from the couch, “look at you with the sensitivity!”

Josh mirrored her movement and stood in pursuit of her. “All I’m trying to say is that a guy who doesn’t like all the little quirks that make you Donnatella Moss from Wisconsin, doesn’t deserve Donnatella Moss from Wisconsin.”

Donna exhaled and folded her arms over her chest. “Well that’s very kind of you to say. But for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t hide my life forever. Just until the guy knows me. Until he knows that I’m cute, and witty, and not an absolute nutcase.”

“I think you should give yourself more credit. You’re not just an assistant. You happen to be the assistant to a very important–”

And this time he was sufficiently cut off. He’d have rather it been because she interrupted him with another plea or remark. But instead he was cut off because her phone started ringing. She ran to it, though the man who was usually responsible for making her phone ring was currently in her apartment. And as soon as she greeted the caller, and Josh saw how she blushed and placed her free hand over her heart, he knew it was Jack. And he knew that whatever night they were going to have, was now over.

Josh sat back down on her couch as she continued her conversation in the kitchen. He stared at his beer for a second, and then with slow precision, lifted it back to his lips, tilted his head back, and took a long sip that finished it off. How many times was he going to have to lose this girl? And how long was he going to pretend like it didn’t shatter him every time she started up with someone new? His mother had been right, of course, and he wondered how long it had been since she realized her son was in love with his assistant. He ventured to assume she knew from the first moment she met Donna – the day after his father had died. 

As much as Donna’s presence had meant the world to him, he also sensed that it had meant a great deal to his mother, too. It was Donna, after all. She could make anyone feel comfortable or loved. And as soon as she got to his childhood home, she took it upon herself to begin tasks no one would’ve ever asked of her. She immediately entered the kitchen and whipped up a quick pot of her mother’s hearty stew. She had asked Josh to join her, and in between their light and gentle conversation (mostly of Josh recounting memories of his father), she would ask him to get her things from around the kitchen. Do you know where the lid to this pot is? Do you think your mom has vegetable stock? That’s alright, beef stock is fine. Where’s the vegetable peeler? Do you mind washing those potatoes? And when she’d finished cooking, Josh brewed a large pot of coffee and assisted her in scouring the kitchen. That night, Josh’s mom found her deep-cleaning all the bathrooms. And dusting and vacuuming the next morning. Finally Josh asked her why she was doing all this, and Donna just shrugged, “this is what I would want help with if someone important to me had just passed away.” From that moment on, Josh didn’t have one phone call with his mom where she didn’t ask about Donna.

Realizing he’d been caught up in a memory, Josh laughed at himself and glanced toward the kitchen. Donna was still on the phone, and suddenly growing uncomfortable being in her space while this other man was monopolizing her time and attention, Josh stood from the couch and carried his empty beer bottle into the other room. She made quick eye contact with him when he set the bottle in the recycle bin. 

He jut his thumb back over his shoulder. “I’m gonna head out,” he whispered.

“Hold on one second,” she quickly responded. Josh wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or Jack, but he paused anyway. Donna set her phone down on the counter, “thank you, Josh.”

It wasn’t lost on him that she was keeping her voice down so Jack didn’t hear it through the phone. She neared him with outstretched arms, and taking him into a hug, he buried his face in her shoulder. “You’re welcome,” he backed away from her knowing that if he didn’t create some distance between them, he was going to inadvertently sabotage this new upcoming fling… or relationship. “Happy Thanksgiving, Donna.” He quickly side-stepped her and went for the front door, hearing the soft patter of her footsteps behind him. 

“Are you going to be alone tomorrow?”

He pulled open the door and looked back at her. “No, I… I have plans,” he paused. “Do you need somewhere to be tomorrow?”

She shook her head, a grin stretching over her face, “no, Jack just asked if I’d go over to his place. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to be alone before I accepted.”

That one felt like a turkey carver to the heart. But Josh still shook his head. “No, enjoy your time. I’ll see you Friday at work. Early. I want to prep a bit before advising Leo on the CBO notes.”

“I’ll be there, boss.”

Josh let his smile widen a little bit, but he was soon out of her apartment. He was almost at the flight of stairs down when she shut the door and he looked back at it. Truth was, he was going to be alone tomorrow. In all actuality, he’d probably just go to the office and spend the day there. His intention was to ask Donna to do Thanksgiving with him, but once the phone call came through, he knew there was no way he was going to ask her to forgo a day with her newest flame to be with him. She would’ve dropped her plans in an instant.

Josh made it back outside. He looked up at her window. The glow from her great-grandmother’s lamp was still present but this time he also spotted her walk past the window, the phone still glued to her ear. Josh looked down at his feet and pulled his coat tighter around himself. Another Thanksgiving without the girl he really wanted around. He was starting to get used to it.

[rafterdarkr]

why are all these modern aus for the Odyssey set in a high school. where's the retelling where Odysseus is just a guy lost in an airport who keeps missing his connecting flights home due to a comical series of delays and disgruntled airline employees

[balrogballs]

i'm a writer irl (can't say who because my agent would rightfully put me into a blender and press the button if i go and out myself as "balrogballs") and honestly the funniest and most humiliating incident of my life was the time my finished manuscript triggered a plagiarism flag with the publisher for two lines of prose in my literary fiction novel...

.... which was word for word similar to a paragraph in a certain explicit work on FFN starring elrond and his batsman from the hobbit films, aka that one elf that looked like he ate panic attacks for breakfast (i forget his name but it's Figwit II) where the lord of imladris bends said twink over his writing desk and gives him the battering ram treatment.

and if you think i had to sit in front of one if the biggest publishing companies in the world and admit that it was, in fact, me who wrote the fic where the lord of imladris bends said twink over his writing desk and gives him the battering ram treatment in order to avoid being wrongly flagged for plagiarism, you would be absolutely correct.

(yes they published the book)

[roboticnebula]

Pros of re-reading your own fic

a good time;

Has exactly the tropes you like and the characterization you want to read;

Gratification: yes you did finish a thing and yes you did do good;

just a very fun time all around.

Cons of re-reading your own fic:

Is that another TYpO

[michameinmicha]

Stumbled upon this random ship (in a fandom im not active in myself) that has like 150 works on ao3 which are all from just two people gifting each other fics about this pairing back and forth and theyve been doing it for 3 years... i think thats true love probably

[housederiva]

My housemate's cat came into my room while my dictation was on...

[mycroftrh]

Far worse, in my opinion, than the famous “he wouldn’t fucking say that” is “he WOULD fucking say that, as part of his facade, but you seem to think he would mean it genuinely”

[mostly-funnytwittertweets]

[jamjoob]

great heavens i haven't posted in a while

[potofsoup]

Oh look, it seems like there's a Republican-led movement to purge voter rolls in the lead-up to the election! It's almost as if your vote matters and they don't want you to vote! Anyway, I whipped up a quick map (based on this) that shows when the voter registration deadline is in each state. There are a few deadlines coming up in the next week or so.

If you live in a state that regularly purges voter rolls for infrequent voters (the orange ones in the first map), or if you moved recently, it's good to check if you're still registered to vote.

Vote.org makes it super easy to check your registration: https://www.vote.org/am-i-registered-to-vote/

Just put in your address and DOB and they'll tell you whether you're registered. (And they give you a quick link to register online if it turns out that you're not! Only the 9 states in white on my map don't have online registration, and for those they provide instructions on how to do it via mail or in person.) If you want an extra verification, find your state's election website and double-check there.

So yeah, give yourself peace of mind -- do a quick check. :)

[bebx]

"undoing this character's death would take away his sacrifice and character arc" girl I don't give a shit. I'm bringing him back through the power of ao3 fix-it fics and there's nothing you can do to stop me x

[loliwrites]

Don't wanna toot my own horn, but this fic might be the best thing that came out season 5 until the Gaza episodes (pls see the sarcasm [but not really] y'all)

Warning: mentions of kidnapping

AU of 7A WF 83429 – more like a post episode continuation

Her fingers fumbled with her keys and she hoped Josh hadn’t noticed. He had, of course. Just as much as she was attuned to him, he was to her. Almost simultaneously, he raised his hand and set it against her lower back. Fingertips gently splayed across with the lightest of pressure on her spine. He never knew the best way to comfort a woman. Much less one navigating the anxieties of the reality they’d been forced into. 

Not that either of them, or anyone in the country for that matter, thought the disappearance of Zoey Bartlet was the action of a college graduate spreading her wings. Everyone knew it was serious. Of the highest importance. They knew she’d been ripped out of a club surrounded by people: friends, strangers, secret service. They also knew she could be anywhere at this point, enduring any number of crimes done to her person. But it also kind of seemed like she’d be found quickly. That it’d be a matter of hours, if not a day, before she was back within the confines of the White House. For Donna, it had become wholly clear that this was a tragedy that had depths unlike any she’d ever experienced before, when she and Josh left the West Wing and meandered out by the gate. The sheer magnitude of candles, photos, flowers, gifts, for this girl – this child – alarmed Donna. 

That’s why her hands were trembling now as she struggled to slide the key into the lock. It was why she’d lost her footing more than once on the walk home. After they’d stopped by to ponder the gifts by the White House gate, Donna thought Josh would leave. Head back to the office and do something… anything… to help. And she thought that’d be for the best. She wanted nothing more than to deal with the anxiety bubbling within her by herself. Perhaps if she were left alone, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about the anxiety. But Josh never let her walk home alone. Even when there hadn’t been a national crisis, anytime Josh caught wind that Donna had walked to work (and he wasn’t physically stuck in a meeting), he’d drop what he was doing and walk her home. Sometimes it was the impetus he needed to actually leave the office himself and go home. But sometimes he’d just end up walking back to work. 

So Donna shouldn’t have been surprised that he walked her home. She also wasn’t surprised that it was an unusually quiet walk. What could they say to each other? What was there to say? She surely wasn’t going to tell him that Zoey’s kidnapping had sparked a fear in her for her own safety. That women went missing every single day, and what if her day was tomorrow? But she was no one special. No one would kidnap her for the release of Syrian prisoners. No one would shut down the airports to limit the scope of where she could go. She’d just disappear into the night and she wondered how long it would take someone to realize she was missing. But mostly she thought about how selfish it was of her to be thinking of herself right now.

“Donna?”

Donna turned and looked up at Josh. His free hand was out-stretched in her direction; his other still perched on her lower back. “Yeah?”

“You wanna stand on the stoop, or you wanna go inside?”

“I wanna go inside,”

“Okay,” Josh pressed a smile and softly coaxed her keys out of her hand. He slid the key into the lock steadily and twisted it as though he were opening his own front door. He even jiggled the knob on instinct, having experience that it had a tendency to stick. Josh nudged the door open and handed the keys back to Donna. “Want me to come up for a bit?”

“No, that’s okay,” she stepped in through the security door and forced her own smile. “I’m sure you want to get back to the office and be around incase they need you,”

He nodded slowly, not completely convinced. “Can I come up for a bit?” Putting it like that, he knew she’d take it as though he needed the company, and not that he knew she actually needed it.

Josh had seen all the candles, flowers, and gifts, too. He’d seen the people praying at the gate. He was living in the same reality as Donna but having a completely different experience with it. He wasn’t sure why she’d grown shaky, or why she’d tripped over her own feet. He only knew that the Donna he was seeing was afflicted. And they took care of each other. It’s just what they did. 

Donna dropped her keys in the bowl by the door once they entered her apartment. She’d gathered herself enough to not trip on the three flights of stairs on the way up. Josh followed her in and closed and locked the door behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blur of a cat run by and into the other room. But Donna was on her way into the kitchen and he didn’t want to give her too much time to get too far away from him.

“Do you want anything?” She asked over her shoulder, trying to sound casual. It wasn’t lost on either of them that her voice shook.

“I’m okay,”

She opened up a cupboard and pulled out a bag of coffee grounds, “it’s no trouble. Coffee might be helpful if you’re thinking of going straight back to work. Though I think you need–”

“I can make it,” he eased the bag out of Donna’s hands. Despite her staring suspiciously at him, he continued to float through the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets for each item he needed. The next time he looked over at her it was because she’d finally taken a step back, as though making a physical point that she was going to let him finish the task. He scooped a few tablespoons of the coffee grounds into the filter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded again, quietly fearful that she wasn’t too convincing. “I feel bad for the President. And Mrs. Bartlet. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. How they must be feeling,” she stared as Josh poured water into the basin. He replaced the carafe back in its spot and clicked the machine on. It immediately started bubbling away. “And they don’t even get to do it in private. They have to be on their best behavior because everyone’s looking at them. Analyzing them. And Zoey,” Donna choked on her breath which got Josh’s particular attention. She was thankful that he quickly looked away, deferring his glance to the coffeemaker so she could compose herself. “God, she must be so afraid. And wondering what’s happened to her. How could he do that to her?”

Josh folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter. “These guys aren’t good people, Donna,”

“Not them,” she pushed her hands back through her hair and used it as an opportunity to bow her head. “Her boyfriend. Frenchie. Where was he? Why’d he slip her something? Who does that?”

“He’s a kid with unlimited resources at his disposal. He’s not thinking. His decisions are being made on impulse as to what’s going to get him the most pleasure,”

Donna’s head shot up, stronger than ever. “Why’re you defending him?”

“I’m not,” Josh shrieked.

“He’s a kid? He’s an adult in every country in the world! Why does he get to go around acting like every girl he’s with is dispensable, but every woman has to go around acting like she might be the next one taken?!” She backed herself into the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, and pressed her back up against the jamb. “Why do men do that? We’re not disposable things you take out weekly with the trash.”

And if Josh hadn’t been attuned to her previously, he surely was with that last comment. It was the first time all night that she had lumped herself into the situation; that the we she was referring to was the royal we. The entire night had been intense and complete focus on Zoey – and understandably so. But Josh was beginning to gather that Zoey was just the current poster girl for a greater woman’s issue. A greater Donna issue. He took a step toward her with his hand outstretched, and seeing her take an instinctive step back nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“What’s going on?”

She took another step backward, “nothing.”

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “When have you ever bit your tongue on telling me every thought you have of every day?”

She spooked when the coffeemaker beeped, indicating that it had done its job. But when she focused back on Josh, she just stepped further into the living room, and further away from him. “I don’t tell you every thought I have,”

“Really? The amount of things I know about you because of the unfiltered stream of consciousness you speak to me with would be the world’s best filibuster.” He managed to gain a few steps on her and close the gap as she pondered his statement – probably wondering if she should be offended or not. “I can’t help unless you tell me what’s going on. I’m already useless at work right now because no one has any information. I can’t be useless here, too.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” she bristled and made her way to the couch. She tucked her legs beneath her and pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch, and placed it across her lap. “You live in a completely different reality. All men do,”

Josh furrowed his eyebrows. His mind was already spinning with things he wanted to retort and say to her, but he also wanted her to finish her full thought. If he interrupted, he doubted she would.

“Why are women taught all the different ways to fight off an aggressive man, but men aren’t taught to not be aggressive? We have to walk with our keys between our knuckles. We can’t walk and be on the phone. God forbid we be in the presence of a man without a smile on our face.” She shook her head because the list could go on and on and on. “You don’t let me walk home alone. You bristle if I have to take the subway alone at night. And it’s not because I’m stupid or weak… I’m the only reason you and Toby ever made it home from Indiana. It’s because every single day we exist in a world where men are the most dangerous force against women. And it’s Zoey, Josh! It’s Zoey. She’s got an entire entourage of the best marksmen in the world. And she’s got a button in her pocket to call that entire entourage to her in a heartbeat. And she’s gone. Poof!” Donna threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “Into thin air. The whole world is looking for her now and they still can’t find her.” 

She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes to hide the fact that she had started to cry. But throughout the entirety of his life, a woman crying was Josh’s kryptonite. He’d heard his mother cry every night for almost a year after the fire. And that was the start of his relationship with seeing women cry. And each progressing time, his gut instinct to it got worse and worse. But when Donna cried… he’d never experienced something so heartbreaking. She didn’t cry in front of him often and he supposed that was a professional and pride thing. He’d seen her cry during the campaign because of Dr. Freeride. And he had caught her wiping away tears from bloodshot eyes when she was finally able to see him in the ICU after Rosslyn. 

Donna lowered her hands and looked up as Josh neared the couch. Now too distraught to fight it, she didn’t shrink away or make an attempt to leave. She just stared at him, holding back her tears as he sat down next to her. “How am I going to be found if the daughter of the leader of the free world can’t even be found? The FBI’s not going to look for me. Who’s going to look for me?”

“I would look for you,”

“Great. You can’t even find your way out of a paper bag,”

Josh suppressed a smile. He tucked a fingertip beneath her hair and brushed it away from her face, so it wouldn’t stick to the tears that were threatening to fall loose. “I would make sure the FBI looked for you. I’d say, ‘these guys must be pretty bad guys because they took Donna Moss and everyone loves Donna Moss’.” He genuinely thought that’d be a comfort to her, or at least lighten things up. 

But when Donna let out a sob, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. The momentum made him lean against the back of the couch with her tucked into his chest. He did all he knew how to do to comfort her. He rubbed her arm and back. He set his cheek down on the top of her head as she tried to regulate her breathing. And after a few minutes, he heard her start to do just that. Perhaps she had grown embarrassed to show such great emotion in front of her boss, but Josh was endeared that a part of her felt comfortable enough to do so.

Josh felt a tugging on his shirt and he looked down to find Donna wiping her nose in it, “oh, go ahead. I don’t like this one anyway,”

She leaned back and shook her head. With her eyes fixed to the ceiling, she waved her hands in front of her face as if that was all she’d need to do to rid herself of the tears. “This is so stupid, I know. And selfish. It’s not about me.”

Josh leaned forward, shaking his head, “it’s not stupid.” He looked down at his hands, “life just got a little scarier than it was yesterday.” He glanced back at Donna and noticed she had mostly turned away from him, hiding her face from his view. “You know, there’s a difference.” He paused for effect and knew she’d turn back to look at him despite her swollen, red eyes. “Earlier you said, why do men treat women like they’re disposable. And they don’t do that,”

Almost angrily, she mumbled, “Josh.”

“Boys do that. Boys treat women like they’re disposable. Boys act irresponsibly. Boys don’t care. Men do. There’s a difference,”

“Not sure this is the time for a semantics lesson.”

Josh reached forward and set his hand down on her knee. He scooted forward as Donna stared at his hand for just a split second longer before returning her gaze to his. “Frenchie may be an adult, but he’s not a man. Age doesn’t dictate that and he’s got a long way to go before he can reasonably call himself a man in my eyes.” He squeezed her knee softly, “and no, I don’t walk you home or grimace when you take the subway at night because I think you’re weak or stupid. Donna, it’s never you that I don’t trust.”

Her eyes seemed to twinkle at his admission.

“And not to be too chummy, so don’t get all sentimental and doodle this in your diary, but I’ve already had a lot of people I care about die and I’d rather not add you to that list.”

She choked out a laugh and leaned forward with outstretched arms. They took each other into a deeply caring hug. One that had Donna tucking her face into his shoulder, and had Josh smelling her gardenia shampoo.

“You are a very good man, Joshua Lyman,” she whispered and rubbed his back. “Despite what the crazy internet people say about you.”

As they parted, Josh thought better than to ask what the internet people were saying about him now. Another part of him didn’t want to know. Instead, he gave Donna a fond smile, and quickly feeling like he’d overstayed his welcome in her small home after an unbearably long day (and night), stood from the couch. She followed suit as they both headed for the front door.

Josh pulled it open and before he walked through it, he looked back at her. “And not for nothing, but I know my number’s the first one on your speed dial, and that’s kind of like a panic button,” he felt his cheeks grow hotter when a gentle smile spread across her lips. “Or, it could be used as one if you wanted it to be,”

He took a beat before he turned to leave. Somehow he knew she’d wait at the open door and watch him descend the steps within her building. “I’d come looking for you, Donna, because my life would probably fall apart if you weren’t around to keep it together.”

[ladydorian]

[whatsnewalycat]

Made this for u 💝

[jackwolfes]

thinking about that post of people assuming ao3 has an algorithm and also about how bonkers persistent the view is that ao3 is social media lite. like with startling regularity I get comments saying something along the lines of "it's probably weird to comment on a fic this old--" no it isn't!!!! this is an archive I am literally just assuming you searched for a selection of specific tags or sorted by kudos or looked back on my pseud or any other number of completely normal ways to use an archive site ?? kill the tiktok ghost in your brain and comment on old stuff it's NOT weird