#very eventful weekend. i want to sleep for a thousand years.

[weepingactorsoverpopmusic]

[thebaffledcaptain]

Things that happened at the 250th anniversary of the British garrison at Fort Ticonderoga

as relayed by a humble fifer for His Majesty’s army, for his own records:

As if the unit needed any more musicians, we now have a fifth. We will not be sharing any with the rest of the British Brigade but you can bask in our glory and also our obnoxious fife practicing.

Speaking of which, we accidentally kind of adopted the 13-year-old drummer from the 24th. We joked about poaching from from his unit until we actually had to talk him out of it because he's not based in our area and, being 13, cannot drive himself to events that are fully in a different state.

At some point, however, he shows up in a bright yellow 26th regiment coat, having been temporarily poached to drum their musket demonstration anyway.

For some reason the Captain decided to entrust Music with kitchen duty this weekend, which seemed like a risky move at first given that we are essentially a bunch of overgrown teenagers who simultaneously overcooked the rice and undercooked the peas, but it ended up being pretty damn good apart from that. I cannot personally take credit for much as I was in the middle of Lake Champlain for the entirety of the time supper was being cooked.

We made a frankly ludicrous amount of boiled cabbage for dinner (lunch). No one was going to eat that much cabbage. The officers instructed us to dispose of it somehow.

Of course, we couldn't just let one person do it. All six of us had to go. Our 21-year-old acting fife major took this job very seriously.

"Cabbage Detail... to the front… march!”

The cabbage was rather inelegantly dumped into a pile on the edge of the woods. We gave it a soldier's funeral (saluted it and sang Roslin Castle badly).

Helped to load the bateau onto the cart to be put into the water. Little 24th drummer showed up in full regimental regalia because no one in his unit warned him the thing was covered in pine tar (which, I realized, has a rather pleasant smell that made the whole ordeal much more bearable). His white smallclothes did not make it out entirely unscathed.

Fellow Cheshire fifer and I immediately volunteered to be part of the boat crew. I had assumed the spots would go faster but perhaps most people don't want to spend half an hour bailing lake water out of a bateau.

Some guy at the marina was either high or drunk and heckled us for a solid 10 minutes as we loaded the thing into the water. I suppose it's not every day you see a bunch of 18th century soldiers get into a glorified canoe and start bailing within two minutes but still, you'd think that if something worked with consistent success for thousands of years even a guy with no sense of history would realize that's not going to change now.

Like, we were maybe 200 feet out and he was still going. He just could not fathom that we could get around the point and to the dock within the 25 minute estimate given to him by our boatmaster. But you know, in his defense, maybe it was 30 minutes and not 25...

Supper was quite good except that, with Music doing the cooking, we almost de-soldered a kettle by cooking a bunch of dill and potatoes in it without any water. Once again I was on the lake while this happened so this was not my fault.

I managed to lose my modern thumbpick for my mandolin at home somewhere along the line and didn’t realize until I got to the event. I used a horn button instead. I would not recommend it unless you have no other choice.

Small tavern night but nothing compared to the raving tavern we had at Dey Mansion. A bunch of boy scouts sleeping over with LED headlights were running around and kind of killing the vibe.

Next morning is rainy and dull. At least one fellow sleeps through reveille but in his defense he was feeling quite awful from a migraine, in period accurate style.

Also in period accurate style, the Captain shows up with two dozen Dunkin Donuts for the 22nd lads now that a fire isn't an option. That's how you know it's Sunday morning. Little 24 manages to snag two.

In his defense, I had two as well. The 13-year-old boy in me won. I figured I'd spent enough time on the two-person saw yesterday to earn it.

For some reason yesterday I decided to volunteer for gabion duty in the morning. Now it’s raining and I don’t know why I did that.

The gabion crew spends maybe 45 minutes complaining in the mud and the rain. There’s an assembly line going: a couple guys digging, a couple guys passing the buckets up, one guy dumping them and throwing them back down, and a Bucket Boy to catch them. Allegedly.

The banter is spectacular. Our only marine is nearly decapitated by a flying bucket. Little 24 shows up (in a DIFFERENT 26th coat) to be the Bucket Boy but our Bucket Boy sucks and keeps tossing the buckets in the wrong direction. The musicians threaten several people with the cat-o-nine. None of this is OSHA approved. There’s talk of unionizing. The cabbage is still in a pile at the edge of the woods.

At some point the artillery company marches out and we all collectively decide gabion duty is done despite being on duty for another hour or something. Ironically enough this was one of the more enjoyable and memorable parts of the event by virtue of it being so miserable. It was quite authentic.

Also really enjoyed the singular marine (with his head thankfully still intact after the gabions) at this event, who, when I asked if my brand new forage cap—rather large on my apparently rather small head—was still holding up after hauling mud around for 45 minutes, observed that the front was practically over my ear and very politely commented “it’s very rakish”

We all kind of shuffle around in the grass to get the mud off our shoes. In my own words, my ‘dashes are absolutely spattered. I am still repeating this phrase because it sounds like British slang for being really drunk or something.

I return to the barracks to hold some very warm hard boiled eggs in my very cold hands. Very effective, would recommend.

Not much going on apart from a few very dedicated visitors who braved the rain to make it to the event. We march out an hour early. My fellow fifer and I get to the car and make a beeline for the local Stewart’s for shakes to ease the post-reenactment depression.

All in all, a small but memorable event that, for me, really solidified the concept that Normal People don’t drive several hours to dress up in period clothing and do physical labor. I, however, am not Normal People, and had a great time.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

My apologies for the radio silence, folks! The past couple of weekends have been super busy--but with a lot of great stuff!

Weekend before last was Wings Over Willapa, the birding and nature festival that happens on and around Willapa NWR in the very southwest corner of Washington. It's one of my favorite events throughout the year, and I have been involved from the very beginning back in 2018. This year I actually got to be a tourist in addition to a tour guide, getting to explore the old growth cedar forest at Ellsworth Canyon with a Nature Conservancy employee. it was incredible getting extra perspective on this special place. I also got to guide tours through even more old growth cedar at Long Island on Saturday, someplace that I never, ever, ever get tired of. I love how the thousand-plus year old cedars have crowns on the top, since the storm winds often shear off the trees' leaders, so another must then sprout. It gives them more personality.

Right after that I hustled on over to Loomis Lake State Park to lead my beach tour. We explored the dunes, and I showed the participants how to tell the difference between the native Leymus mollis dune grass, and the invasive Ammophila grasses that have taken over that habitat. We found some neat things while beachcombing, like marine snail egg casings, and had some great wildlife sightings, like lines of brown pelicans coasting over the waves, and a lone Hudsonian whimbrel picking its way along the beach in search of food.

That evening we were treated to the keynote speech by author and conservationist Paul Bannick, who spoke on how woodpeckers and owls are very often keystone species in their habitats. I had just enough time that night to get some sleep before peeling myself out of bed for an 8am tour that I led around the Art Trail and Cutthroat Climb at the old Refuge headquarters. I am in love with that place, and I am overjoyed the trails are open to the public after extensive improvements were made earlier this year.

This past weekend was just as much fun! I have been very excited to see the development of Snow Peak's new campfield in Long Beach. For those who aren't aware, Snow Peak is a quality outdoor supply company based in Japan, analogous to REI or Patagonia. Each of their flagship stores has a campfield within a couple of hours which has camping and events. The Long Beach location is associated with the Snow Peak store in Portland, and is just about ready for a soft opening!

I have been hoping to get in touch with folks there since I really, really want to see more ecotourism out in the Long Beach and Willapa Bay area. We're so lucky to have so much beautiful nature out here, and I want to see more people getting to enjoy it. I was thrilled when a representative contacted me some weeks back inviting me to teach a couple of mushroom foraging classes during this year's Snow Peak Way, an annual camping event that draws hundreds of people and which was held this year over on the east side of the Cascades in Tygh Valley.

To say that I had a great time would be an immense understatement. I have been to a lot of festivals, conventions, and other events over the years, and this had all the things that I love about these events, without the things I find obnoxious. I made a lot of friends and connections, was fed VERY good food, and if my experience with borrowed gear is any indication, Snow Peak is well worth the hype. I am very much hoping to get to partner more with these folks once the campfield is open and running.

There's no time for downtime right now, though. I'm back in Portland later this week for several classes, and I have less than three weeks before I'm on the road to Missouri again for my fall visit. In between now and then I have several writing projects due, including the first deliverables for The Everyday Naturalist, plus various other tasks around the home and farm. Things will slow down once we get closer to the holidays, but for now it's all go, all the time!

[conspicuous-clown-car]

was asked to share about Bitzy the clown so im gonna!!

excuse anything that doesnt make sense or spelling errors i currently have a migraine lol

this is just surface level stuff that shows who they are as a person

okay so bitzy started off as a clownsona that i could imagine saying what i was really thinking to customers/coworkers whenever i got mad at them when i used worked in customer service lol, it really helped me chill out and control my emotions

they were originally a character that i imagined doing badass stuff to music when i went on 4 hour long car rides every weekend for half a year, it helped pass the time and keep me sane

but yea bitzy very early in development was just the embodiment of what customer service does to a mf

inspiration for them: The Collector from the Owl House, Steve from Big Top Burger, The Ice King from Adventure Time

they go by they/it

VERY gender, will wear anything

but will scratch at their skin if its exposed so they tend to wear clothing that covers their limbs

they have adhd and theyre autistic, they dont/are unable to mask

theyre immortal, they can die (usually it happens in the stupidest and funniest ways), but they keep coming back, because their worlds rules say that theyre supposed to be there, always

they are inorganic (by earth standards), along with everying in their world

theyre a literal creature, able to contort and warp their body into anything, usually unsettling scary shit

they became a god-like entity, accidentally

that gods purpose is to observe and experience

though they are not the leader type, preferring to be lead by someone else

they dont need to eat, sleep, or drink due to being immortal, but they occasionally do if they want

has a personal, wholesome, and wordless relationship with the one deity thats a higher being than them, but they rarely see it, about once every thousand years or so. it shows them the stars

sometimes they forget theyre a god though so they act like a mortal more often than not

they have a really bad memory, like, amnesia type bad. half is from repression, half is from head trauma when they were younger. also has constant headaches, the worse they are the more likely it'll mention them. both of these are partially a result of their powers

they arent as funny as other clowns, and theyre bad at entertaining and improv

as a clown they should enjoy performing for others, but they do not, instead preferring to do so alone and only for themself

hates being percieved and analyzed

it used to be a jester

sometimes works on cartoon-like physics

in their world theyre a wanderer, and though they have a home they dont use it often

their house is like a huge blanket/pillow fort that sort of resembles a circus tent

theyre very childish, and from an outsiders perspective they seem kinda empty headed

even though they are childish and whimsical, they HATE being babied

will get irritated if clothing is asymmetrical

favorite color is red

is fascinated with celestial things, too bad there's no sky in their world....

shorty, especially compared to other clowns, they can change their height but prefer not to (it lets people think theyre harmless)

very unpredictable, quick to irritate, never know what theyre gonna be chill about and what theyre gonna have a meltdown over

they try to refrain from hurting others though, hating the reputation they have due to....'events' that happened when they were younger, events that were not their fault

theyre very impulsive, not thinking before doing, but that doesnt mean theyre an idiot

can be incredibly stupid when it comes to certain things and incredibly smart when it comes to others

they cant navigate a conversation when theyre involved in it but if theyre just observing they can easily figure out intentions of the conversing parties, things those involved in the conversation wouldnt be able to decipher at all

many try to befriend them for selfish purposes and bitzy can tell, they can always tell, theyve always been able to tell

it doesnt have a reflection

theyre vehemently TERRIFIED of bodies of water, especially the ocean....

is also scared of being in a car, but not the car itself.... wonder why....

they find it funny to be chill and silly around people they know are terrified of them

something is clearly wrong with them, like theyre putting up a façade and ignoring how fucked up they are mentally

10,000 years of living in self inflicted isolation can get to a person

stuck in a state of dream-like escapism

escapism is a huge part of their story

loves liminal spaces, because, well, it lives in a world of nothing but that

has daddy and mommy issues, thats why theyre insane /j

very emotionally mature when someone is being vulnerable with them

great with kids surprisingly

has a cult dedicated to them that they do not approve of, but will use that fact to one up people

those who dont know of bitzys reputation are bound to insult and underestimate them, and then... well... they figure out who they are

bitzys overall mentality is "you dont fuck with me, i dont fuck with you"

has an immense appreciation for earth, and by extension humans, wonder why? they arent even supposed to exist in their world....

has a way tortured past

does not like the sound of jingling keys or keychains, it reminds them of some bad people, and stresses them out

they have a high pain tolerance but will fake getting hurt just to be dramatic

they also just tend to overreact as a joke, getting fake mad at little things just to be funny

powers can be emotion based though, and boyyyyy do they have some big emotions

has a gripe with technology

is not aware of peoples personal bubbles

never comforable enough to be vulnerable with anyone (anyone except for daydream)

despite being a chaotic and probably annoying person to be around theyre a good friend, who often puts their friends needs before their own, but they only have one friend that this is applicable to lol

can be unintentionally funny by being painfully truthful/blunt

struggles with reading due to brain damage, is more of a physically active person than a mentally active person anyways

if i havent made it clear enough, they are a complete outcast, but by no fault of their own, even before they lost their marbles they tried everything to get people to like them for them. it never worked...

theres a big 'secret' about bitzy i havent revealed yet but.... maybe this spotify playlist of songs that vaguely tell bitzys story will be a helpful hint ;3

[vertebrae-entertainment]

We participated in Global Game Jam this weekend!

Wait- what is Global Game Jam? Why, its the largest game creation event in the world of course! For 48 hours, thousands of game developers worldwide gather to brainstorm and create videogames together. And for us, we gathered at our local event- the 250+ attendee strong GGJ Hamar, happening at the Inland Campus!

This year was special for multiple reasons. For one thing, this was my first year on the organizer side of things! I was responsible for the graphics and theming of the event, making the logo and event t-shirts. I also helped out with some promoting and shouting people around on the day of itself, as well as a giant cardboard wall the attendees could doodle on with markers.

Secondly, this was the first physical event since 2020! The pandemic really put a lock on the local gamedev events for a while, which is a total bummer given that we have such a rich creative environment here. This meant that we were a bit rusty and out of touch. By the time we started promoting, we realize that there were multiple batches of students that had never even attended a jam before.

But despite snags and scrambling towards deadlines, the event went off smoothly- and if you can believe it, tiny Hamar was in the top 10 largest jam sites worldwide!

The games were great too- i keep being surprised by the sheer level of creative output during these events. Bugs and glitches are no match for these visions. I’d like to think our attendees also had a good time, and were encouraged to attend next year as well. If you were one of the attendees that weekend: come back, y’hear! It was fun!

But what did we make? Well, we didn't collab- i personally feel like its a bit of a shame to have such a wonderful social event and then move to work with the people you always work with anyway. Game jams give us a bit of an excuse to spread our wings/fling spaghetti on the wall and see what sticks.

On my end i settled in with a group of first timers to make ROOTLESS YOUTH

Rootless youth is a game where you reconnect subcultures with their lost lingo, clicking and dragging clipart into sentences to complete their sentences. You can try the game here!

This was pretty fun- it essentially turned into 90s windbreaker themed duolingo. The team did great, and were absolute troopers trying to finish this despite a lack of jamming experience and less than ideal software! We had a lot of laughs figuring out and depicting various subcultures. On my end i was the lead designer, did the logo and UI, as well as the music.

Åge made LEECHER

Leecher was described to me as basically gridless Snake. You worm around and eat particles, making your roots a little longer every time you do. This was a solo project, and can be played here!

In short- a lot of pizza was eaten and a lot of coffee was inhaled this last weekend. I was knocked out for almost the entirety of Monday even with following my regular sleep pattern! Jamming knocks you out a bit, its no secret- but still, i can hardly wait for next year.

If you’re a Hamar local, consider popping by! Hopefully i’ll get to design you a cool t-shirt. For now, its back to the regular grind- we’re steadily getting busier at the office now. It feels like we got very popular very suddenly! (especially now that the fishing game isn’t the only project on the table anymore)

-Hauk Want to know what we usually work on? Follow us here or on Twitter for regular updates on our projects- or click here to join our discord!

[ittyybittybaker]

umber saffron green cinnamon periwinkle mauve blush

also babes??!?! day nine?!?!? I do not envy you that many day on in a row. please tell me you at least get a long “weekend” in between or love your job to where it doesn’t feel so bad to work so many days in a row?

See What Your Followers Think of You Color Ask Game

UMBER = I want to know more about you

SAFFRON = I love your ideas

GREEN = I think you’re cute.

CINNAMON = You’re a really cool person and admire you from afar.

PERIWINKLE = You make me laugh

MAUVE = You are really talented

BLUSH = Seeing you on my dash makes my day a little better

Aaaaahhh thank you so much friend!!! you're so sweet!!! I'd LOVE to get to know you better, I really do love making friends!!! Also to answer your question about my job .... work rambles under the cute 🙃

So the thing about my job is, that 80% of the time I really love it!! But the other 20% it can be really frustrating and right now is one of those times so I'm feeling a little ... rambly about it I guess.

Basically, I do baking and pastry for the Catering Team at Disney. We do all breakfast, pastries, and desserts for every catered event on property. So, we're really busy right now. like so busy that I truly cannot describe it. We're getting ready for a huge 10k person even at the end of the month and also have multiple large groups with us every day, with 1-2 thousand desserts on multiple menus.

So we're currently scheduled 6 10 hour days a week which would be fine, except we're actually typically working 12-14 hours every day. The reason I worked 9 days in a row was because 3/5 of my peers were on vacation/sick, so I had to be there to run the floor during my shift. (We're just the ones who run the floor, we have other cooks who also do production!! It's not just me doing all the work I swear lol, I have a very lovely and hard work team!!) But because we're scheduled 6 day weeks, I only had one day off :( It's just been a lot of exhausting work, physically and mentally, but also emotionally.

We get very busy several times throughout the year, with this being one of our busy times, but it usually balances out with slower periods to catch our breath. This one has just been particularly taxing because of a lack of staff.

I normally find my job very rewarding and fulfilling, but right now I just can't wait for this to be over. Which is why I've been kinda MIA for the past couple weeks, and I probably will be until the end of the month :( I'm just so exhausted all of the time, and I truly don't have time to do anything except work and sleep.

BUT at the end of the month I'm going on a cruise and I'm so excited about it!!! It's my first ever cruise and I truly CANNOT wait !!!

ANYWAY work ramble over!!!! Thank you again for sending this in, you're so sweet!! ILY, especially if you read all that lol

[xhopelesslyromanticx]

Keep away - Max Verstappen x Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: sexual references, alcohol, cursing

summary: Sneaking around with your brothers biggest rival probably was the worst idea you ever had, especially with everything that happened last year. So as this season started there' was only one question on your mind; could you keep away from one another?

The silence in the room was incredibly uncomfortable. Heavy breathing being the only thing filling the awkwardness as you tucked the sheets over your naked body while the dutch guy above you dropped to the side. Untangling your body from his as he laid there staring at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts running through his mind which he would never be able to put in words. 

You could hear cars honking on the street in front of the five star hotel, where basically all the drivers where staying at. Even though it was still early in the morning, it was race day in Imola which meant that the city was in full swings all weekend. You stared at the curtains blowing in the wind in front of the big window that led to the balcony as Max cleared his throat next to you. Nervously you turned your head to look at the guy who had his face buried in  his hands as his messy hair ponited in every direction.

It was hard for you to look at Max in this state; post sleeping together. The sweat on his forehead and his puffy lips only reminded you of what you had done and brought back the guilt.

„We shouldn‘t have done this.“ you whispered, shaking your head as you remembered all the events leading up to this very moment. Max and you had promised yourselves last season was gonna be the end of it, the sneaking around and lies had to stop. 

But the dutch guy knew he couldn’t resist you, from the very first moment he saw you in the paddock at Bahrain. Memories flooding his brain uncontrollably; the sound of your laughter and how you‘d moan his name seemingly forever engraved in his mind. But then when he saw the  logo on the back of your jacket he also remembered exactly why this could never work. He also remembered just how badly you had broken his heart back in December. 

„Y/n wait!“ the dutch guy chased after you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he was covered in champagne. He reached out for your upper arm, making you stop in your tracks as you stood in the back of the empty Mercedes motors home. Max had just won the championship and was of course over the moon and you didn’t blame him. You really wanted to be happy for him, hell you maybe even were but you just couldn’t admit to it. Not when it meant betraying your brother in the most horrendous way. „You can’t do this to me!“

„What do you want me to do then Max?“ you chocked out turning around with crossed arms as you shook your head frustratedly. If only Max could have made this easier for you. Why couldn’t he just act like any guy would and not care. Why did he have to say it? 

„I want you to be with me!“ he exclaimed, clearly also frustrated on why you couldn’t see that he was offering you the world „It’s over Y/n! The championships over!“

He grabbed you by your shoulders trying to get you to look in his eyes but you just couldn’t. You knew if you looked at him, it would make it impossible for you to do what you had to. To put an end to this, finally. Sighing, you shut your eyes before shaking your head „Max…“

„No!“ Max disobeyed, his voice strained from all the cheering he had done. This was supposed to be the best day of his life but instead it seemingly was gonna be remembered as the worst one „I love you! Okay? I already told you that. I don’t care about the rivalry anymore.“

Again, those three silly words he had already said to you once that night. Just before the race as you had met him in the back, to wish him good luck. He said them, leaving you totally baffled and speechless which in return made Max super embarrassed as he stared at your blank impression. That’s how he had left for the race without you saying anything back to him. He knew you felt the same but there was just the one thing that stood between the two of you; it was Lewis.

„Max, my brother.“ you now looked at the dutch guy as you bit your lip, seeing the hurt look in his eyes as he finally understood you weren’t gonna say it back. You weren’t gonna be with him. Your loyalty to your family too strong „You said it yourself Max. The championships over, so are we.“

And that’s how you had left things with him. After literal months of sneaking around and pouring out your heart to one another you had decided it wasn’t worth risking your realitionship with your family. Although Lewis and you only shared your mother, the two of you were incredibly close. You were his baby sister and travelled everywhere with him, having trained to be his PR manager and making your living like that. He would have done anything to protect you and you knew if he knew about Max he wouldn’t ever forgive you. Maybe you should have listened to him when he told you guys would only break your hearts but then again; in this case it was you that broke Max`s.

But Max wasn’t all innocent all the time. There was this side to him, mostly the one your brother got to see and why he found a strong disliking for the dutch guy, he was cocky and arrogant from time to time. Although you knew that it came from him being extremely ambitious it did drive you mad, especially when he let if out on you.It was after the Silverstone incident, as the tension between Lewis and Max was rising that you first got to see and feel it.

Max angrily punched the wall making you flinch as you entered his hotel room, letting the door fall close behind you. You had been incredibly worried after seeing the horrendous crash, your heart stopped as it reminded you of the nasty side of the sport you loved so much. When he got out of the vehicle, clearly shaken, you realized just how much the dutch guy meant to you. 

„Max…“ you approached him from behind, gently touching his back as he had his head hanging low „I was terrified.“

„It’s so unfair!“ Max spat out turning around as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. You pressed your lips together, seeing just how angry he looked. Understandably so; the crash looked incredibly scary. You knew this was just his way to deal with the shock of it. „He’s such a sore loser. Honestly if anyone else did that! Just because of who he is, he gets allowed to do shit like that!“

For a second Max had forgotten who he was talking about. He was furious with Lewis, it had been absolutely irresponsible to do what he did. At least in his opinion.

„Does that really matter now?“ you now sighed, shaking your head as you tried to get him to see that he should just be thankful it wasn’t worse „We should be happy you’re not hurt…“

„Well I know what you’re thankful for.“ Max now chuckled, but in more of a spiteful way as he looked at the Mercedes logo on your chest. He crossed his arms as he looked at you coldly „Got P1, home win. What more do you want?“

You couldn’t believe the guy, looking at him through squinted eyes as you shook your head before hissing „Fuck you!“

Max couldn’t handle it any longer, the tension way too high. He roughly grabbed your waist, pressing you against the wall. With his face dangerously close to you he muttered under his breath „What did you just say love?“

„I said…“ your voice was shaky as you looked up at him with an evil smirk, knowing exactly what power you held over him „Fuck. You.“

He crashed his lips onto yours eagerly as his hands started roaming your body. Making you whimper at his teasing touches as you felt your knees weaken. The dutch guy only separated his lips from yours one last time as he hissed „Really shouldn’t talk to me like that love.“

Max and you weren't always like that, fighting and bickering just came with the rivalry. But there was a side to Max that not many got to see. He could be increidbly passionate, loving and vulnerable. And of course he was incredibly funny. He could make you laugh like no one else ever could. That was partly why you had fallen for him. He could just make light of any situation; no matter how serious.

It was at the Belgian grand-prix, during the three hour red flag due to the bad rain that you were senselessly wandering through the paddock. Incredibly bored, having already played rock paper scissors against Lando for almost half an hour until he backstabbed you and took a nap after which you had continued to quote „perfect your self defense techniques“ with Daniel, which consisted mostly of him choke-holding you. So after spending time at the Mclaren home you got a text from Max.

Max: Where are you? I’m bored.

You chuckled, imagining him sitting there like a little kid with to much energy as you held up your umbrella in between your arm and chest so you could type.

Believe me we all are.

Max: So what are you doing? Except thinking about me.

You rolled your eyes, he was so cocky sometimes. Well, two could play at this game.

Just was hanging with Lando and Dan. 

Max: Alright, so you can hang with those losers at Mclaren but not with me? 

A satisfied smirk was plastered on your lips as you were still stood at the exact same spot in front of the Mclaren home, ignoring the people that were passing you as they sent you amused looks. They knew you were someone who got along with almost everyone and mostly found it endearing when you paid them a visit. Wherever you were laughter and smiles followed, it was one of the first things Max had noticed about you when he first laid eyes on you. The way you lit up every room, beaming with joy.

„Oh, hello there backstabber.“ the familiar voice with the distinct accent appeared behind you as someone creeped their head over your shoulder, looking at your phone. You laughed as you turned around to see Max wearing a Red Bull rain jacket, dripping wet. He had to resist the burning urge to touch you, which was the hardest part about all of this. He wanted nothing more than to show Lando and Daniel that you were his and that they could forget it. Hell, he wanted every guy on planet earth to know that you were unavailable.

„I didn’t know super Max could get jealous.“ you giggled, provocatively pursing your lips as Max sent you an unamused face. He shrugged acting totally nonchalant as he had his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans „Jealous? Me? No way!“

His voice was almost always strained and it was endearing to you when he tried to act all tough. So you took a step closer to him, crossing your arms as you raised your eyebrows „Is that so?“

„I’m not called super Max for nothing.“ Max joked causing you to chuckle. You knew he actually hated whenever you called him that but you just couldn’t help it, the song was super catchy. Before you could say anything else though, you could see the smirk on Max's face suddenly turn into a frown as he looked at something behind you. You turned around to see your brother approach you with a critical look on his face.

„Don’t do anything stupid Max.“ you sighed, sending Max a warning look as he rolled his eyes. He hated the fact that Lewis was always stuck at your side, it made it hard for him to spend time with you.

„Y/n.“ Lewis caught up with you, holding his umbrella as he stared straight at his rival. You knew Lewis always tried to be nice but the dutch guy somehow had always rubbed him the wrong way even if it was just by existing „What’s going on? Is he bothering you?“

Lewis turned towards you, sounding genuinely worried as Max just chuckled, making you cringe. Lewis shook his head as he looked at the blonde guy, who had his arms crossed a he gave him a dirty look „What’s so funny about that Verstappen?“

„Lewis.“ you tried to stop them but Max's petty side had already taken the best of him as he snapped back at your brother.

„Yes, sure thing Hamilton. I love to go around the paddock bothering women.“ he spat out, obviously being ironic as he was pissed off at Lewis empty accusation. Especially when it came to you, he did not play around.

„What’s your fucking problem? You have some serious anger issues.“ Lewis squinted his eyes, confused how Max was so offended by his innocent questions. You wanted to peel your skin off as you clenched your jaw, not sure who was acting more childish. But before you could even react, Lewis already grabbed your shoulder pulling you away from the dutch guy „I don’t want you to talk to him again, alright? If he ever tries anything…“

„Lewis, he really didn’t bother me.“

„Just stay away from him. He means trouble.“

Trouble. That’s what you were in for. After the season ended and you ended things with Max, the two of you basically ghosted on another. But you would lie if you'd say you didn’t check on him from time to time. Seeing him on holiday, partying and celebrating the peak of his career while you were picking up the pieces for your brother.  But what hurt you most was seeing pictures of Max cozying up with some model in a club in Ibiza; seeing that he was moving on. 

„It’s not that hard Y/n!“ Lando rolled his eyes, his head resting against the headboard of his hotel-room bed as he scrolled through his phone while you senselessly swiped through your tinder.

„It is.“ you sighed, tossing your phone to the side as you buried your head in the pillows. You groaned, thinking about the horrible day you had. It was the first race weekend of the season. It was the first time you had seen him again and well let’s just say he didn’t even acknowledge you at all. All weekend Max had given you the cold shoulder and you couldn’t blame him. He probably hated you after what you did. With your voice muffled you whined against the pillow „I never get any matches.“

„What?“ Lando squealed, confused as he grabbed your phone with no hesitation „Well, you’re doing something wrong!“

He went to your profile, checking how you were presenting yourself and just as expected it was rather disappointing. It wasn't doing you justice as at all. He sighed shaking his head as he made a clacking sound with his tongue „Oh, Y/n!“

„That bad?“ you asked, looking up at him with a frown as you saw him nod. You buried your head in your hands as you fake sobbed, making Lando chuckle.

„Wait! Not all hope is lost.“ he nudged your shoulder, scrolling through your phone for what seemed like an eternity „I just have to get a better picture of…“

The expression on the brits face suddenly became blank as he stared at your phone. Your heart stopped at the mentioning of pictures, leading you to put two and two together. A gasp escaping from both of your lips at the same time as you quickly snatched your phone out of the young guys hand. His expression was basically frozen as you looked at the image on the phone.

„Why are you and Max in bed together?“ you cringed af the sight of you cuddled up against the dutch guys naked chest. One of the many pictures you two had taken whenever you‘d end up in eachothers arms. It seemed like Lando had scrolled up quite a bit in your gallery and you hadn’t yet got it over your heart to delete anything.

„I-I…“ you stuttered looking at the curly haired boy. Lando looked at you with raised eyebrows, trying to give you a chance to explain but he soon understood you wouldn’t get a word out and the sad expression on your face made him feel bad for you. Whatever had happened, it was clearly over as you were asking him for help to find a guy. It now also made sense to Lando why you had rejected all the single eligible guys he had introduced to you over the last week. The brit sighed, sending you an apologetic look „Y/n, I think we found the reason why it doesn’t work.“

You had told Lando everything. Every little detail and god, it felt good finally being able to open up to someone. To get the guilt you felt both towards your brother but also Max of your chest. Lando didn‘t judge you, although he didn’t agree with the way you had lied to your family, he saw that you clearly had feelings for Max. And in his mind he was sure; those feelings still where there.

Fast forwarding to the grand-prix in Jeddah, Max was finally able to score his first points while Mercedes was clearly going through a rough patch. It seemed like everyone except Ferrari was currently having starting problems. Lewis, who usually always stayed positive even started to doubt himself. But Lewis problem was different to Maxs. Max just couldn’t seem to concentrate with you being around.

In Australia he was barely able to handle it. At practice he watched as you talked to some of the Mclaren staff with Lando by your side. Your short floral dress leaving little to his imagination as you played with the ends of your hair. He had noticed you had gotten quite close to Lando but tried to shrug it off. It was none of his business anyways. He just felt like it was incredibly unfair that Lewis didn’t seem to mind you hanging out with any of the other guys but when it came to Max even looking at you, the seven time world-champion was right there.

„What are we looking at?“ Sergio asked his teammate as he handed him a water bottle. Max took it leaning against the wall of the Red Bull motor home as he adjusted his hat and shrugged „Nothing.“

Sergio raised his eyebrows clearly not buying Max's answer. He had now known the dutch guy for quite a while and it was very easy to figure out what was lingering on his mind.

„It’s little Hamilton right?“ Checo asked, making Max's stomach twist. He was afraid of what the older guy might think of he knew the truth, so he did what he did best; acting oblivious.

„What? No!“ the dutch guy squealed, his voice incredibly high which immediately gave him away. Well, that and the fact that he was as red as a tomato. Checo chuckled, crossing his arms as he pressed his lips together watcghng Max be a nervous mess. The younger guy scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat „Besides she’s not even called Hamilton.“

„Well, you would know.“ Maxs teammate joked, looking over at you. He mustered you for a second, trying to make sense of how the dutch guy seemed to be so smitten by you and it did add up; you were incredibly beautiful and exactly Max's type plus the sound of your laughter could be heard through the whole paddock. Sergio sighed looking over at his teammate one last time, seeing him watch you with a that certain look on his face. That’s when Checo understood; Max was in love with you.

That’s how we take off on the weekend of the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix. You always loved being in italy, so the second you stepped on the paddock that weekend, your heart fluttered. There was just something about the atmosphere there that inspired you. On the day of qualifying's if was quite cloudy so you spent most of your day going through questions for an upcoming Interview Lewis had. Crossing out the ones you didn’t wanted to be asked, mostly noisy stuff about his dating life and family. But there was this one question that caught your attention. As you read it over and over again, thinking what Lewis would say.

„Although Max Verstappen was your biggest rival last season, are there any qualities he has that you find admirable?“

Admirable. You chuckled, shaking your head. It was ironic, you could think of a million reasons why you admired Max and you were sure your brother would have a hard time even naming one. Lost in your mind you started doodling on your paper. Not even realizing the words forming on your paper.

„His humor, his smile, his ambition, the way he loves. Really hard.“

After a long hard day you went out for dinner with Toto and his wife. Lewis had decided to just go straight to his hotelroom after the horrible day he had. So you tagged along with what seemed to be like your second family. George had also been invited, to the exclusive dinner at some extremely fancy restaurant. So you had dressed for the occasion, your shorts satin dress revealing our back as your loose curls fell onto your shoulders effortlessly. Topped of with your favorite jewelry and a red lipstick you called it a day.

You were kind of mad that Lewis had bailed on you last second but you also felt comfortable around Toto and Susie. George you were still getting to know but you knew he would soon be a close friend. 

„I‘m stuffed.“ George sighed, taking on last bite of the chocolate soufflé in front of him before putting his fork down. You chuckled, still devouring your dessert, sitting next to the guy who seemingly had the manners of a member of a royal family. The word distinguished truly perfectly fit him.

„Oh, come on George!“ Toto chuckled, sipping his wine as he stared at the young guy „Even Y/n‘s finishing it!“

„Hey!“ you exclaimed, slightly offended „Dont underestimate me Toto!“

Toto laughed as the waiter refilled his glass of wine and Susie massaged the back of his neck. The restaurant was completely full, a bunch of people having already walked up to your table asking for pictures. But you weren't the main attraction here just a couple of tables away from you Max was sat alongside Checo and his Red Bull team. You hadn’t even noticed the dutch guy but it was safe to say that he had noticed you as he sat there with crossed arms, pouting like a little child while he watched you sit next to George.

„So Y/n?“ Susie now spoke, smiling at you a little before getting serious „Is there any new guy in your life? It seemed like there was someone last season…“

You almost chocked on your food as you quickly gathered yourself with a blush on your face you stuttered „What makes you say that?“

Toto laughed, crossing his arms „Oh come on! It was obvious. The way you always snuck out to call someone and the smile on your face whenever you‘d get a notification on your phone!“

„Really?“ George asked, furrowing his eyebrows, he was suddenly very interested in the whole thing because let’s just say he had found something quite interesting today. When you had left the paddock, George innocently stumbled over the papers laying on your table. Not thinking anything of it he started reading through them until one very weird question caught his attention. Why would you write those things about Max? Out of all these people. Deciding to push his luck George just blurted out „So who is it?“

„What? He- He is no one.“ you stuttered, nervously fidgeting with your fingers. Your appetite having left your body, out of all people, there was only one who would probably flip out even worse than Lewis; that was Toto. 

But Toto didn’t even notice you were freaking out, he was too busy pointing his camera at George and you. Snapping pictures like a proud dad, while Susie cheered the two of you on. The next few things all happened so fast and the world seemingly went blurry for a second. George was still teasing you about the mystery man in your life as your table was catching the attention of some others, mostly because of Totos loud and obnoxious laugh at you, being as red as a tomato.

This also caused Maxs eyes to fall onto you once again. He furrowed his eyebrows seeing Russell whisper into your ear, little did he know what the Mercedes driver was truly saying.

„Is he blonde?“ George wiggled his eyebrows as you muttered a small „Stop.“ under your breath.

„Is he admirable?“ George now asked, your whole heart stopping for a second. He knew. And without George being able to say another word you yelled „George stop!“ before crashing your lips onto the side of his face so Toto could finally snap his stupid picture. There where a couple of Awes and gushes heard in the room. George was just startled, not having expected this at all. But when you pulled away, mouthing him a small „Sorry.“ he understood that this was truly serious. You didn't want anyone to find out.

Max felt like someone had ripped his heart out but that wasn’t really comparable to the anger he felt seeing you cosy up to stupid George Russell. The most stuck up and boring prick there was in his opinion but maybe that was just the jealousy talking. But Max couldn’t handle it any longer, he couldn’t handle everyone staring at you and George, thinking you were a couple. He couldn’t handle seeing your lipstick smeared across the brits face. And he couldn’t handle it not being him sitting right there next to you.

So the next thing he did might have seemed stupid any other day. But not today. Without another word he stood up from his table, heading straight towards you. Ignoring the calls from his friends behind him, his eyes glued on you. When your eyes fell on him, he could tell your soul left your body. You were surprised by the sight of him and even more terrified that it seemed like the angry looking dutch guy was approaching you with no hesitation.

„Y/n.“ all eyes fell on him, most of them super confused as you looked up at the guy in the white button up „We need to talk.“

That’s how you ended up pressed against his hotel-room door with him attacking your whole body with kisses. After stumbling out of the restaurant, leaving behind a super lost Toto and Susie. By now Toto had probably put two and two together. After watching you immediately obey the dutch guys wishes, grabbing his hand and following him out the restaurant, Toto knew; he had to talk to Lewis.

„Why did you do that?“ Max moaned against your neck, his fingers running up and down your bare back as your hands buried in his hair. Ever so slightly tugging at it as you wrapped your leg around his torso, grinding your hips into him. 

„What?“ you asked, innocently batting your eyelashes as Max groaned, slightly biting the skin on your chest. Inhaling the scent he had missed so much while he felt your hands travel down to his lower body. He took a sharp breath at the feeling of you ever so slightly touching him though the material of his jeans, remembering why he was so mad as he spoke through gritted teeth „Why did you cuddle up to Russell? Touching him, kissing him…“

You smirked, loving when he got like this. But right now you loved the fact that he was right there with you even more. All these months apart and all this time you spent missing him, it felt surreal to finally be able to touch him again. This was Max, he was real. This was your Max.

„He was teasing me.“ you told him, speaking the truth as you stared at Max's swollen lips. Wanting him to reconnect them with yours again you decided to give him what he wanted "He was teasing me about you. There's only you Max."

„We shouldn‘t have done this.“ you whispered, shaking your head as Max laid dead silent beside you. You thought about how you were gonna be able to get out of this again. After all things had gotten messy; Lando knew, George knew and Toto was sure as hell suspicious by your actions last night.

Max was frustrated, well not sexually at least. But emotionally, he was on edge. It took him so long to get over you breaking his heart in Abu Dhabi and he just promised himself he‘d never get himself into that situation again. But here he was next to a naked you after having sex multiple times, hearing you already regretted this.

„Yes you’re right.“ Max stated coldly, kind of offended by your statement basically saying he wasn’t worth it. But in a way Max didn’t even believe you, not after you had literally been moaning his name all night. But he was scared to say it, remembering the last time he opened up to you. You turned his back on him and god, he was afraid you might do it again.

You snuck out of Max's hotel-room that morning, you two leaving things as they were. Both knowing making a promise to stay away from each other rarely worked. Walking down the hallway still wearing last nights dress and Maxs button up hanging loosely over it, your shoes in your hand. Your phone had died and you were craving sleep like never before, knowing in a few hours you‘d have to get up again and pretend like nothing happened. What you didn’t know was that in just a few hours the pretending and lies would all stop, even if not on your own watch.

„Someone looks well rested.“ Lando joked as you stood outside the hotel waiting for your car to arrive, wearing your sunglasses and sipping on your coffee in order to wake you up.  You looked over at Lando, who had a sheepish grin on his face which caused you to send him a questioning look „What Norris?“

Lando laughed, shaking his head. He clearly had something lingering on his mind. As he had attended breakfast this morning, he had heard from Daniel, who had heard it from Charles, who had it from Carlos and god knew who Carlos had heard it from; that Max Verstappen had taken a certain drivers little sister back to his hotel-room last night. And with George confirming Lando, that you had actually been escorted by the dutch driver there was now no doubt on his mind that it was true.

„Max and you so did it last night!“

Lewis hadn’t shown up to pick you up like he always did on race day, the car ride giving you time to mentally prepare yourselves for the day. He had always appreciated you being there to listen to his doubts and fears but today was different. You walked past the fans patiently waiting in the rain, greeting some of them and taking photos before you made your way to the Mercedes home. But today you weren’t accompanied by your brother, who was usually always by your side.

As you strutted past the other motor homes, you couldn’t help but notice that there was quite the crowd in front of the Red Bulls home. Mechanics and staff member had seemingly accumulated to watch what was going on on the inside. It caught your attention but when you peaked over the audience, you soon turned speechless. As you saw none other then your own brother, grabbing Max by the collar of his shirt as the two of them yelled at each other. You turned pale but immediately knew what this was about, pushing your way through the people, some of the Mercedes staff sending you nasty looks.

Christian Horner was just sitting in the back, seemingly done with the bickering of the two guys as he buried his face in his hand. Checo standing there next to him, ready to go help Max if things turned violent. When Checo's eyes fell on you, he gave you an apologetic look.

"You're so never gonna touch her again Verstappen!" Lewis spat at the younger guy as Max scrunched up his face.

"Don't tell me what to do you fucking..."

„Max!“ you chocked out standing there with all eyes on you. Max who had just cursed at Lewis like a litte child one a school yard snapped his head towards you, immediately embarrassed by his behavior. He would never hurt Lewis on purpose but what was he supposed to do when the guy attacked him out of nowhere.

„Y/n…“ Max mumbled, Lewis grip on his collar immediately tightening at the mentioning of his sisters name. He was disgusted by the things he had hears from all corners this morning and when even Toto told him that Max had picked you up like a "hooker" in the restaurant last night, the guy flipped out.

„Lewis let him go.“ you took a step towards your brother, trying to avoid everyone hearing you. But Lewis looked at you with a hurt look on his face, he had just found out the worst thing possible and even if he didn’t now the full extend of it, it was enough to make him question his whole relationship with you.

„How long?“ Lewis muttered under his breath, slowly letting go of Max, who looked like he could finally breath again. When he saw the way you looked at his rival and then back at him, he knew the answer was bad. He hadn’t ever seen Max remorseful but right now the look on his face could only be described as that „How long have you been screwing him?“

„I-I-" you stuttered but didn’t get a word out, this told Lewis all he needed to know, as he bit his lip looking at the ground. He shook his head, he had to get away from here or he might actually hurt the dutch guy.

„Show‘s over!“ Lewis adressed the crowd, swirling his hands around before angrily pushing his way through people. An awkward silence filled the room as everyone watched your brother leave, leaving behind a baffled Max and you. Checo then continued to tell everyone to go back to work before leaving himself, shaking his head. The room soon emptied, everyone getting ready for the opening ceremony. Christian being the last to walk out, patted Max's shoulder „Good job buddy. Good job.“

Max sighed, knowing Christian was pissed off. This was exactly the sort of negative press he didn’t need. But when Max saw the look on your face, he forgot about all of that. Knowing how horrible you must feel, having just had you worst nightmare come true. This wasn't his plan when he did what he did last night. He never wanted to trap you, he just still loved you.

„I‘m sorry.“ Max whispered, running his finger through his blonde hair. You looked up at the blonde guy with teary eyes, shaking your head.

„No don’t be.“ you smiled weakly, pressing your lips together as you wiped your tears from the corner of your eyes. Max raised his eyebrows, sending you a questioning look. He didn’t understand this at all, weren’t you mad that Lewis found out?

„I realized last night, that even though you might not feel the same; I can’t live without you.“ you chocked out, the dutch guy listening to every word you saying „And I know you might not feel the same anymore but…“

„What?“ Max squealed, taking a step towards you before grabbing your face with his hands, getting you to look at him. „Y/n, I‘ve not stopped thinking about you ever since you left me in Abu Dhabi. I thought you didn’t want me anymore…“

„I want you silly. I always have.“ you chuckled, tears still rolling down your cheeks making Max giggle. The blonde guy slowly pressed his lips onto yours, giving you soft and passionate kiss. You relaxed into the familiar feeling, forgetting all about your worries for a moment

„I love you.“ you then mumbled against his lips and god it felt good for Max to finally hear you say those three little words back to him „And Lewis will come around eventually, we’ll just have to show him what we mean to each other and give him time.“

„We will make it work.“ Max nodded, caressing your cheek before smiling "And even if your stupid brother doesn't want it. I love you too."

[wonwoonlight]

Chan – established relationship + “Roadtrip!"

500~ words - a thousand starlights event

“Well, don’t you look excited,” Chan grins when he sees you packing your luggage, happily humming to the song playing in the background.

“We’re finally going on a roadtrip!” you mirror his grin, eyes closing when he kisses the top of your head as he passes by to sit next to you on the floor. “You know I’ve always wanted to go on one.”

He nods in content, fully aware that it’s something in your bucket list; to go on a roadtrip across Jeju. You both meant to go last year, but his close cousin suddenly announced his marriage on the same date you planned to depart and, obviously, you decided it would be better to delay the trip than to miss the wedding. You hadn’t really prepared anything but the places you wanted to go to, anyway, so there’s no loss except for your disappointment that Chan easily took care of by taking you on a staycation over the weekend after the wedding.

After months of delay due to this and that, you’re finally days away from d-day and you’ve been buzzing with excitement since the beginning of the week. The plan is to fly over to Jeju and rent a car once you’ve arrived, spending the first few days in the main city before you take off to go around the island.

“I’m still worried, you know,” he helps you fold your shirt into the luggage. “You sure it’s okay for us to not book anything?”

You roll your eyes playfully at his tone, nudging him a little as if it’ll help him let loose. “It’s not holiday season, Channie. We’ll be okay.”

“And if we don’t get a room?”

“There are a lot of hotels and inns, we’ll just go around until we find one with an available room.”

He scrunches his nose at this, unsure how to rebut against your judgement. You do make a good point, but can you blame him for his worry? Despite the years he’s spent with you, going on a trip with no actual itinerary isn’t something that makes him comfortable. There are so many ifs in his head that no one can really answer, but wouldn’t it be better to at least book hotels if you want everything else to be spontaneous?

“Or, if it comes to it, we can just sleep in the car in some rest area, can’t we?” you shrug, not minding sleeping in such a confined space that will probably cause your back to scream in pain.

“You’re taking the whole spontaneous thing very seriously aren’t you?” he huffs with a smile, dropping his chin to your shoulder.

You nod in all seriousness, patting his cheek before you go back to folding shirts. “It’ll be fun, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think it will be. It’ll give us more reasons to take our time and look around, and we’ll stumble upon everything by chance. More… memorable, you know?”

“Anything is memorable as long as I’m with you,” he whispers nonchalantly, laughing at the way your hands are halting and the way your nose is scrunched at his words.

“How can you say stuff like that without cringing?”

“Don’t say you don’t like it.”

You simply scoff at his words, not saying anything as you try to shrug him off your shoulder and cover your face with your hair. Chan doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re blushing beneath all that.

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved.

[saulweissberg]

it wasn’t as if saul thought phoebe was destitute; though he often tried to play daddy warbucks to her orphan annie without much luck, he was quite aware of the wealth gap between them. between him and most people in general, actually. he grew up extremely privileged, more money behind his family name than necessary, and it wasn’t something he was ashamed of—he wasn’t impolitely proud of it, but saul had always thought there was nothing worse than a rich kid that tried to play that they were poor just to seem cool. they were a dime a dozen in manhattan during his college years, as if they all weren’t attending an ivy league school. sure, there were scholarship students that attended columbia, but the paying students weren’t fooling saul when he remembered a lot of them from high society events his parents made him attend in his childhood. point being: saul wasn’t blind to plight, and wasn’t afraid to spend on those that he loved. “it’s not ancient gendered standards. buying your breakfast every week has nothing to do with gender—it has to do with age. it would be improper for you, a youngin', to buy me a meal.” didn’t these kids know anything about proper etiquette? damn.

the topic of seb and cj made him narrow his eyes at her. technically, though he wasn’t actually doing anything for cj currently, he was still a client. he couldn’t speak on cj’s case, or even if cj was his client, without breaking confidentiality. cj, however, was free to mention that saul was his lawyer to anyone he liked; that client-attorney privilege only applied to saul. “well, i’ve done what i can in regards to that.” even that, vague as it was, could get him in trouble. he had to assume phoebe wouldn’t turn him into the bar association, nor any eavesdropping fellow customers, but he was still cautious. “do you… want them to not be married anymore?” now that skirted the line just fine, since he was asking her opinion on her friend’s marriage and not divulging any identifying information. 

“oh god, i’m not going to argue with you on this anymore.” of course, saul was a lawyer and argued with people all day, every day, but how much more could he defend andrew lloyd webber’s magnum opus? “cats is a good musical and you’ll have to deal.” he nodded with finality. “my mom loved the four seasons, though. she dragged me and my brother to see grease for frankie valli even though i wanted nothing to do with musicals at that time.” boys weren’t supposed to like musicals back then, but clearly saul had gotten over that. maybe it had something to do with olivia newton john.

he was slightly surprised to see her take on the bet, though he had a hunch she wasn’t taking him very seriously. saul knew he could find a way to get foster to relax on a night out, and he had never been opposed to drinking with a client. he used to do a lot worse with his clients, mostly illegal substances in nightclubs, but as he had told phoebe months ago, drugs were bad. he was older now. he had to restrict his drug use to an occasional weekend throughout the year where he had the entire next day to sleep it off. saul took her hand and gave a firm shake. “deal. i have no idea what you mean about kim kardashian, but deal.” saul definitely had money, but not private-island money. 

the topic turned to actual cats. “marmalade and smokey? no, they’re too old now to do much besides sleep and eat. they still get into epic fights sometimes, but they mostly just lay around and act like they own the place.” they kind of did, since saul spent the majority of his day at the office. “smokey used to chew the buttons off my dress shirts but that thankfully stopped once i started locking my closet with a zip tie; it looks terrible, but it keeps me from needing to spend another two-thousand dollars at the vet to remove it from his stupid, fat tummy.” it kept saul from having a fucking heart attack from worry, too. “why? what does little misty get up to?”

Lonely child. Even though it was unintentional, it felt like a gut punch to Phoebe, chewing slowly on her pancake. She wasn't always that lonely in her childhood, she guessed. She always had Seb and Linc, but Seb also had a penchant of seeking out attention and trouble and Linc actually had a family to go home to; the three Weaver Ridge brats often peeling off to live out their own misadventures. For Phoebe, that usually meant being sat alone on the couch, reruns of The Simple Life or the latest Real Housewives playing, as she listened out for the sound of her mom's key turning in the door. Saul could probably sense the shift, so when he told her — nay, commanded — herself not to think that way, she just offered one soft "Okay."

Labelling her past wouldn't exactly change it anyway.

When he mentioned paying for breakfast, the intern let out a resigned groan. "Saul, I can afford a few pancakes y'know. You're the one who's upholding, like, ancient gender standards or whatever." It was easier to pretend Saul was old fashioned than to admit that lately she had been struggling for money. The tutoring was fine, even if she felt bad overcharging families in a certain zip code of town, but the intern was only given crumbs in terms of payment from the paper, barely crossing the legal parameters. And experience didn't exactly cover rent. Why did she give up her cushy job as Nilay's assistant again? For her stupid dreams?

At his ideas for creating scandal, she snorted. "Maybe your new law will actually light a fire under CJ and Seb's asses." She knew Saul didn't talk about his clients — anything discussed with Foster about his dad's estate was not shared with Phoebe — but CJ made it known who exactly he was paying to do nothing, and Seb often tried to harm her if she brought up their marriage. So, even though Saul couldn't confirm or deny the process of their annulment from an ethical perspective, it was a sort of open secret that the lawyer and his clients were at some sort of impasse.

"That. That's why I hate Cats." She used her fork to point at Saul, as if the lyrics he sung were floating around his head like cartoon birds. "Jersey Boys is a good musical, I got into the 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You' song from Ten Things I Hate About You. It's decent, and a true story. Not weirdo cats singing about...y'know, I don't even know what the plot is." She wrinkled her nose.

At Saul's proposition, Phoebe chewed thoughtfully for a minute. Sure, Foster wasn't exactly on Seb's level when it came to having a good time, but he could enjoy himself when with the right people. Decidedly, Saul wasn't, and she knew the chef wouldn't be able to unwind if out with the lawyer. And he respected Phoebe's opinion on how she wanted to celebrate her birthday too much to even feign having a good time for the older man to win a bet. So, with that in mind, and feeling confident about her odds, she held out her hand for him to shake. "You, Mr. Weissberg, have yourself a deal. One successful night out with Foster, and you can throw me a birthday party that rivals Kim Kardashian's 40th birthday on her private island." She nodded, "Yeah, things are good. Though we're like stuck on what to do about Misty a bit. Do either of yours have behavioural issues?" They didn't, she knew that. But she also needed advice for another cat dad, with a mental reminder to also text Eli.

[bomberqueen17]

fugue state

hoo boy i woke up at 3 fully convinced it was monday morning, and i was like, resigned to it, but then i was thinking about all the shit i didn’t get done this weekend and i was so mad about it and as i was waking myself up thinking about this i was like why did i leave myself all this work to do and then i was thinking slightly more clearly and was like.... because... i was going to do it... on sunday... which today is...

but of course by then i had woken myself up with my indignation, so

i got out of bed, and have happily found where Chita was sleeping, so there have been some snuggles and purrs, and I’m resigned to making time for a nap later because 3am is Too Early.

I have finished all my Christmas shopping and am moving on to attempting to do giftwrapping. I have some tissue paper stuff for wrapping but I’m going to again try to make fabric wrappers for stuff like i did .... maybe last year. I decided for two gifts to make little leather bags for them out of deerskin, because they’re not quite Enough gift but if I also give a change purse with them that’ll make it nicer. right?? anyway that was ridiculous of me, I cut them out last night and immediately realized I’d wildly mismeasured one of them and then had not one, not two, but three false starts with the other one, sewing right side to wrong side or failing to leave a seam allowance or just plain attaching it upside-down. But it’s okay! I can keep working on it today! it is not Monday!

oh it is Chita Time, I have to hold her now, brb.

In other news I have finally finished my project to retell the events of Geralt’s bookverse Hansa via Morvran getting slightly tipsy, and it is

nine thousand five hundred words long

which is too long

and I am *wildly* insecure about it for some reason and so I asked for feedback in two of my Discord servers on just that chapter (yes, as soon as i finished it I split it off into its own Google doc for this purpose) and I got a very heartfelt “it’s fine” and due to the nature of my brain this has not penetrated at all, so I am firmly resolved today to work on something else or maybe not write at all (pause for laughter) until some of my brain grows back (longer pause for laughter)

(pause for the laughter to set itself off again)

Listen

okay i got nothing.

oh my one bit of good news is that in ... whenever that was, september, when I went to the Southern Tier, I bought like a hundred dollars worth of little art prints at the Ithaca Farmer’s Market to give out for Christmas, and this past week I was like Time To Wrap Those and could not for the life of me fucking find them, and yesterday I finally looked at the pile of stuff sitting directly next to where I remembered leaving them in the tote bag I’d been shopping into, and the tote bag wasn’t there but naturally the prints were on the very top of the pile of stuff. So like. Good for me.

... i sorta want to go back to bed but if i do it’ll wake dude up. this is why i need to clean off the guest bed, so i can lie in it with my computer and be undecided about whether I’m awake or not. that’s my ideal state tbh.

Anyway. Chita has settled onto my arm on the desk so i guess i live here now.

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Pining

I’m posting half of this list first because I started it a long time ago and it’s taking me a while to go through all the fics. So I will update with more later. 

*** Mutual Pining *** Pining - I might put mutual pining under pining if we don't see much of the other person pining. *** Bonus - The pining is not between Evak 

For the anon from this ask.

I will try my best to separate out the mutual pining fics but I think it will be tricky if it's not tagged as that. So bear with me and let me know of any mistakes or fics I missed out on.

. First Posting : 11 July 2021. Under 15k fics.  .

******* Mutual Pining *******

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES, 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination.

Postcards by HedwigsTalons (1k words) - Isak's wall is covered in postcards. Isak is supportive of Even's career and he cherishes every postcard but the long distance relationship hurts.

Feelings Come and Go, But Not With You by ultimatelawrence (1.9k words) - It was meant to just be a holiday romance. A fling. Nothing like love. But now it was six months later and Even was still pining over the angel he had met in Paris.

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?”

i will love you until the very, very end (and you were my best friend) by traumatic (2.4k words) - Isak and Even share something in the cool waters of a spring fed pool that no one, not even their fiancées, could ever understand.

Breathe Me by photographer_of_thoughts (4.5k words) - A high school reunion brings Isak and Even together after ten years, and neither of them can forget what happened when they were both seventeen.

Everything comes back to you by MermaidsandMermen (4.8k words) - Light pining. A dribble oneshot for Halloween, full of fluff and Even and Isak and a tiny pinch of angst. Because we need some Halloween fluff. That's all.

Fuck Tha Police by MacksDramaticShenanigans (5.2k words) - “This,” Eskild said, spinning the photograph around so everyone could see it, “is a picture of the latest piece of vandalism from our favorite little street punk.” he finished with a heavy sigh. They are both cops.

i tried to be strong but i lost it (i knew it was wrong, i’m beyond it) (6.3k words) - Even has a thing for his intern, Isak has a thing for his boss, they're both a bit clueless and their friends just want them to get their shit together.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?”

Addicted by endlessandinfinite (8k words) - They’re both completely, overwhelmingly, and incredibly...addicted. Best friends to lovers.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

Let Me by GayaIsANerd (10.6k words) - Summer brings a lot of things. The smell of sunscreen. The sound of children playing in the shallow part of the lake. The taste of cold beer. The sweet tang of weed. But most importantly, summer brings Isak.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10.8k words) - Fake dating AU, you know the drill. Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding. This Means Nothing to Me by cuteandtwisted (10.8k words) - Isak and Even are friends and roommates who don't believe in love anymore (after they both get dumped by other people) until they do. Aka the Friends/Roommates-To-Lovers Don't you let me go by solarpower21 (12.2k words) - In this universe, Isak and Even are roomates and nothing more. Except that there is something more between them and they both know that but are too stubborn to admit it. Too bad it takes a very unfortunate event for them to face the truth. Burn Down The Disco by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (12.2k words) - A 'Black Mirror: Hang The DJ' AU in which Isak and Even decide to rebel against a futuristic dating system that pairs users up with various people in order to find their perfect match.

La Petite Mort by EvenbechNeiheim (13.4k words) - Even Bech Næsheim is one of those cool and very hot media students at Uni who might just got the task to make a film project. Eskild is the best wingman and things like accidently falling in love with an asshole media student happen. Based on the FIRST KISS YouTube video that gave the internet an entire meltdown. 

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by orphan_account (13.5k words) - Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else. 

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left. 

Love in the Time of COVID: Battlestar Edition by sweetasmaple (14k words) - Isak and Even find each other again during the COVID-19 lockdown, one Battlestar Galactica episode at a time. 

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******* Pining *******

never seemed so alive by retts (1k words) - Nothing special, just four letters strung together to spell out E V E N but they made Isak's heart race and his face blush and his hands tremble.

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1k words) - Light pining. There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust.

i could probably just curl up in you. by milominderbinder (1.3k words) - Isak is away at a cabin with the guys when he gets a text from Even. 'hey, babe, did you take my favourite hoodie?' He is, of course, outraged that Even would accuse him of such treachery. The fact that Isak is wearing the hoodie at that very moment has nothing to do with it.

stuck on you (what did i do?) by itjustkindahappened (1.8k words) - It’s not that Even doesn’t try to be friendly with him—Isak just makes it so hard. Whenever Even approaches, Isak either makes up a fumbling excuse to leave, or just becomes really stiff and refuses to acknowledge Even’s existence.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2.2k words) -Warning for pain. 3 times isak kisses even +1

i be up in the gym just working on my fitness by orphan_account (2.3k words) - Even knows that he's quite literally going to die when he finds his crush sweating on an elliptical, reading a book with his glasses slipping down his nose.

You know where I stay by nofeartina (2.4k words) - Warning for pain. Isak is so beautiful first thing in the morning. When he still has creases in his face from the pillow, when his face is red and puffy from sleep, his hair all messed up and curly. Even prefers this Isak. This is his Isak, this is only for him.

won't you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened (3.2k words) - "i've been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you're refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it's gone too far and i can't go back"

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it.

On the silver screen by Lokkanel (4k words) - Isak was really not in the mood for this. He had a long week at work, and all he wanted was to relax with his friend, drink a few beers, maybe even smoke some weed and just chill. But no. When Jonas called him to say that he won tickets to the coolest indie film festival in Oslo, Isak knew he could forget his plans for a quiet and simple weekend.

I want to love you (in my own language) by fauu_stine (4k words) - “Okay. Maybe I’m not happy,” he admits in a resigned whisper. “Do you need a shrink discussion or a best friend discussion?” "I think- I think it’s more of a friend with benefits kind of talk."

Don't be an ass by Julieseven (4.1k words) - Even really tried to forget about him. It started out as a harmless little crush, really. He saw him at the karaoke bar SYNG one night, singing "I don't want to miss a thing" at the top of his lungs, clearly drunk out of his mind, but looking like an angel with his messy dark blond locks and crooked smile.

Little Black Book by Laika (4.3k words) - Isak Valtersen is studying his third year at the University of Oslo and having the time of his life. Enter Evy Bech Næsheim, straight out of Nissen, in his stockings, mini skirts and bubblegum scented lip gloss.

cracks in our foundation by towonderland72 (4.8k words) - “You know, like a thousand years ago, men used to wear makeup?” Even asks, as Isak gapes at himself.

Safest With You (Green Curtains) by eavk (5.3k words) - Isak keeps staying up too late studying at the library, but luckily there's an escort service that gives students a buddy to walk with to keep safe at night.

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way.

Senses by Lokkanel (5.5k words) - Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste… Or Even falling in love with Isak, one sense at a time.

you're the one i wanna grey with (5.6k words) - They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend.

Orion's Nebula by thekardemomme (5.6k words) - Light pining I think. Even Bech Næsheim was enrolled in an astronomy class for one reason and one reason only: the cute ass boy he saw standing in the registration line.

with the taste of a poison paradise by chasingflower (6k words) - It’s routine by now. Isak hangs out with his friends during the day and at night he kisses the Dream-Even that lives on the other side of the door in his living room, and basks in the warm fuzzy feelings he gets as a result of the attention. Coraline Au.

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

Watermelon Sugar by MermaidsandMermen (6.6k words) - A little tribute to fruit and touching. To sex, and friendships and finding what you were looking for all along. And of course inspired by Harry Styles latest video offering, just because.

The Fake Boyfriend App by Crazyheart (7.2k words) - AU where Isak is desperately pining for his flatmate Even, and downloads a fake boyfriend app to get over him. When he discovers that the Fake boyfriend is a human, and not a bot, he is sceptical.

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

my longing drives me crazy for you (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. It's a fake dating au.

I'm Always Here by nofeartina (9.3k words) - “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says. Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

a garden for your love by eggsntoast (9.3k words) - He’s learning to breathe with them, even if he ends up with a floor full of violets by the end of it all. They remind Isak of him, and that’s all that matters. That’s what makes it worse. or: a Hanahaki au ft. Isak heavily pining after Even. Lots of angst.

I wrote an angry letter to the void, and the void responded (9.5k words) - Monday comes, and the book is still there. Isak looks around, content to find the floor practically empty, before giving the book the finger. Fuck that book. - a book finds it's way to Isak's sacred study spot. this proves to be a major distraction.

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder (9.7k words) - “What is it about this dude, anyway?” Elias asks. “You’ve barely even talked to him, right?” “I don’t know,” Even says. “I just got this feeling, you know? Just- I want to make sure he’s okay and safe and… stuff.” - It starts with a hug.

Is This Our Time? by Evakkk (9.9k words) - This is a world where everyone is born with an indistinguishable soulmate mark... it only changes into something recognizable, once you have physical contact with your soulmate, and it's always something meaningful to the relationship. Both partners will bear the same mark. Isak is about to turn 18... and he's the only one in his friend group who still hasn't found their soulmate. But what happens when he goes out one night, gets drunk... and wakes up with his soulmate mark?

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (9.9k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.

Just like in the movies by Lokkanel (10.5k words) - As he began taking in his surroundings, Isak realized he was in one of those small theaters that programmed independent and artsy movies, even old black and white films. He was ready to turn around and walk away when he heard a deep voice say, “Halla.”

my tiny heartbeat in his ear by riyku (11k words) - Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty. most beautiful things by scarletbluebird (12.7k words) - This fic is a whole ass journey. Warning for pain. This isn’t a fairytale, Isak tells himself. Even is standing at the bend in the road. He looks like a metaphor for immortal life: the youth a god would kill for. Ambrosia eyes, the universe trapped in the curve of his mouth. He looks like every warning from his mother about strangers you run into after dark. 

One week by Lokkanel (12.8k words) - This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it. Simple. Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak. 

Plum by Jamz24 (13.2k words) - Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings 

Never be the same by nofeartina (14.2k words) - It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex?It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying. 

Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland (14.6k words) - The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan. 

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14.7k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to. 

All I Ever Wanted by MinilocIsland (14.8k words) - Isak is such a good friend. Probably the best there is. How else could he explain that he's agreed to join Magnus to this place deep in the woods for six full days of silence, meditation, and utter boredom? One thing, he knows. There's nothing exciting for him there. Right? Or: the silent retreat AU. 

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******* Bonus *******

Season 3: Jonas by Laika_the_husband (WIP, SBB 2021 fic) - There is a scene in the end of the script for season 1, where Jonas and Isak kiss each other on a dare. This story is a retelling of season 3 in a universe, where that kiss happened and completely changed the way Jonas sees Isak. Written in Jonas' POV, the story examines sexuality, love, friendship and coming to terms with never getting the boy you shouldn't have fallen for in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me? by notanugget (11.6k words) - The five times isak felt guilty for being in love and the one time he didn’t 

thanks for the weed, thanks for everything by evak1isak (13.1k words) - Jokael. Jonas' dealer has moved to Denmark, and Even recommends his friend's weed. What Jonas didn't expect, though, was to develop a crush on a boy, on Mikael. 

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******* WIP *******

Baby, why do you have to shine so bright? by Lilacpotter - Even knew he was radiant, and he was used to people always wanting to be around him, enchanted by his captivating words and glowing smiles, as if he was the tantalising sun. But then one day, he comes across someone who shines much brighter than the sun itself in Even’s eyes.

Lonely Hearts Club by EndingsNotTheStory - The Hearts Club. A show run by Isak and his 3 friends. He's kind of had enough with hearing about people's relationship issues and giving advice. Until the guy from his theatre class and Isak's totally not crush Even calls, dealing with relationship issues. pining

[barbiegirldream]

When the trending discussion always comes up I feel like any opinion I have about it is wrong or I word it weirdly. Both of very important and deserve to be discussed but yelling at people not to trend MCC isn’t going to help further activism. But I feel like saying that dismisses BLM as well. People can talk about two things at once and talking about one doesn’t mean you don’t care about the other. The trending tab is there and just bc it’s not number one doesn’t mean nobody cares about it. But again I feel like I’m dismissive once again. I just don’t know what to say

I think firstly twitter can be used to uphold issues yes but it is not an actual source people should use for anything. Twitter relies on quick snapshots of things that doesn't allow for nuance or context.

Like its I think the biggest place where people read a headline and move on.

BLM is an issue that wasn't invented with George Floyd and it won't go anywhere tomorrow. This is not an issue that fades with the trending page. But that is exactly how Twitter treats it.

The same way Pride will be shoved away in the closet till next June when companies can bust out the rainbow paint and milk the money. This is the one month where Youtube is going to be most willing to do something like MCC with the Trevor Project. It's one day to raise a shit ton of money for Queer kids. That's real activism. Whether it trends on Twitter or not it will be a massive drive. But this one event being able to raise that much money for queer people well that helps black too. Queer politics is all about intersectionality. It's not supposed to be us against each other that's literally what the government wants. Intersectionality is not a topic everyone is ready to talk about because the way we're raised is always gonna be us vs them. Classism, racism, respectability politics. It's buried deep.

BLM is such an important issue. One that affects me and my family personally. I go to protests. I write my reps and senators. I study this in college. And I can say without a shadow of a doubt if it trends on Twitter tomorrow it's so a bunch of kids can pat themselves on the back and say they'd supported and uplifted black voices. the same ones who are celebrating the sentence as if George Floyd didn't lose his life for this cop to get a 22 year sentence, as if drug dealers haven't gotten longer. This was not a tragedy it was murder plain and simple, racially charged murder that deserves a life sentence, a life for a life.

Okay sorry I'm getting worked up here and I'm not mad at you anon not in any way. I totally understand your frustration here honestly. I don't even know if I'm expressing myself well. I'm just on the phone with my dad (he's black) and he's telling me how he was arrested once and never given a phone call or read his rights. He sat in a cell for a long weekend before they charged him a massive fine cause he was sleeping in his car on a side road. (he was on a road trip) okay he thought the cops were going to kill him in the woods he swears to god the fact that he was Air Force saved his life that night. Like I just I can't focus on anything well. And like now I'm so fucking angry at the MCYTWT people for this.

This idea that trending a charity is overshadowing BLM says more about the people on Twitter than anything. But it just god it's like holding up that stupid tweet Techno made when he was 16/17 (a joke which seriously? everyone and their brother made that joke in high school) next to the thousands of dollars he's donated to LGBT+ charities (and that he'll raise for MCC) and deciding yes he hates lesbians. It's preformative and it's stupid as fuck. They need to be given a hug and assurance that they're being good and pure, that who they're watching or what they're saying is unproblematic.

Okay activism is not a fucking trend on twitter. It's an unending practice of striving for systematic change. A suicide prevention hotline to make sure LGBT+ kids are gonna stay here and do amazing things? That sounds pretty fucking important to me. As important as making sure the police are held actually accountable for their actions. Twitter could be fucking deleted tonight and that wouldn't change how actual activists operate. It just wouldn't.

Also burning yourself out with the news is never gonna help. I'll be at work tomorrow but I'll make sure to get some donos in. Tweet or don't but I hope people still support MCC because it's important. And yes keep an eye on BLM always not just when it's trending. Yeah I don't even know how to end this rant but um yeah I feel you. And I hope you're taking care of yourself.

[wordsfromthesol]

The Interview

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Your name slips in one of Dick Grayson's interviews and creates issues in every aspect of your life. Word Count: 1.2k

Part Two

"So I'm joined here with Richard Grayson, the eldest son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And really there is just one question on everyone's mind. Where were you during his charity event this past weekend? You certainly weren't there, and Wayne enterprises had no recollection of a business trip. Have you had a falling out with your father?"

"Please, call me Dick. And I didn't know I would be bombarded with conspiracy theories this early in the morning."  Dick was attempting to buy himself as much time as possible to formulate a lie. "Unfortunately, the real answer is much less superfluous. Y/N was quite ill, so I thought my time was best spent tending to her." Why your name popped in his head, he still wasn't sure.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is your girlfriend doing better now?" The interviewer didn't know exactly who this "Y/N" person that Dick referred to was, but they were determined to find out.

"Yes yes, she's as good as new." Dick didn't bother correcting your assumed status. It was just one short interview on the morning gossip channel. What more could come of it? Or so he thought...

**

You always ran late on Monday mornings and today was no different. Racing through the office corridor, you didn't even notice the obvious stares from coworkers. Almost as soon as you sat down at your desk your coworker Josh darted towards you.

"Y/N  Y/M/N  Y/L/N. WHY WOULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!"

"Uh…you're going to have to be a bit more specific." Your eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Dick Grayson?!" Josh exclaimed the name as if something should be obvious.

"Okay…not very helpful. We've been friends for years? You knew this. Did something happen to him?" You were still utterly confused about his sudden outburst.

"Friends" he scoffed at the apathetic use of the word before pulling out his phone. Within seconds you were watching the interview clip from this morning's talk show.

"Heh, right. About that…can you just give me a minute?" Your voice unconsciously went up several octaves as you stuttered out the sentence. Josh glared at you with a suspicious look in his eyes as you scurried off to the bathroom. Anger bubbled up inside you as you made sure the bathroom was clear before punching Dick's number into your phone.

"Y/N, what's up?" Dick's casual greeting was the last straw.

"Are you KIDDING me?! WHAT'S UP?!" The exasperated words poured out of you.

"Heh…you uh saw the interview then." He quickly learned his mistake after the interview clip accumulated hundreds of thousands of views in a matter of hours.

"Want to explain further, please. I'd like to know why I'm involved in this lie. Which will be heard by millions of people." A sour taste lingered in your mouth as you waited for his response.

"It's no big deal really. I just kinda needed an alibi. For why I wasn't at dear old dad's latest soiree."

"Alibi? I'm sorry is my best friend a criminal now?"

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Dick tried to console you, but he was met with silence. You refused to budge on this matter, you needed a proper explanation. Dick finally let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine alright. I'll explain tonight. I can't talk about this over the phone."

"Seriously Dick, if you go to prison, I'm not waiting for you." Normally the quip would have been a joke, but at this point even you were unsure.

You took a moment to compose yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. Instead of walking back to your desk you immediately went towards your supervisor's office. There was no way you could get through the workday now; the barrage of questions would never cease.

Feigning a cough, you slowly entered their office. "I'm not feeling very *cough* well. I think it's *cough* best if I head home." There was no way your rouse was fooling them, but thankfully they let you go home anyways. If only you made it that far.

**

You woke up in a shitty motel room, arms tied to the headboard. "Aye Boss! The bitch is awake!" You heard the scream resonate through your mind as you blinked past the confusion.

"Finally," a brutish man plodded into the room. "You're that Wayne kid's girl. Right?" Though he phrased it as a question, he didn't wait for an answer. "Time to call the rich brat. You're gunna fetch me a pretty penny." A sordid smile graced across his lips as he grabbed your phone from the counter. It didn't take long for the device to start ringing, Dick's photo flashing across the screen.

"Y/N/N, I told you, we will talk tonight. I need sleep." You could hear the sleep deprivation in his voice.

"Oh dear boy, unfortunately, this is not your Y/N/N."

Dick's tone immediately changed into one you had not heard before, one laced with fury and panic. "Is she safe? What do you want?"

"Momentarily, and how do you put a price on human. On someone you love so dearly?" The sarcastic words fell effortlessly from your captor's lips. Like this was nothing, just a typical Monday. "Oh I know, how about 2 million."

"Let me speak to her." Had he done this before? The question rant through your mind as the gag was removed from your lips.

"Speak!" Your captor demanded.

"Dick…?" His name came out as more of a question. For some reason, you hoped he knew what was going on. Or perhaps this was all just some terrible nightmare.

"Sweetheart, just stay calm. I'm going to get you out of this. Are you hurt?"

"I…I'm fine…" you stammered out, knowing that one wrong move could make that statement obsolete.

"Alright lovebirds. That's enough. You have 2 hours to get the money." Before Dick could answer, the man hung up the phone and sauntered into the next room. "Well, looks like we got true love here fellas. The boy is gunna pay up." You heard at least 3 people howl with excitement…there goes your hope for escape.

**

The first hour passed by agonizingly slow and your mind began to betray you. What if he won't pay? He will right? He's been your best friend for years. Two million wasn't too much. He would pay. Even if he asked Bruce for the money…he would pay…Right? He wouldn't just leave you there at the mercy of these -- the intrusive thoughts were interrupted by an explosion emanating from the other room. A few screams and grunts later, Nightwing appeared in the doorway.

"Y/N! Thank God you're okay!" He raced over to you, tugging at the ropes securing your arms to the headboard.

"Uh…Thanks?" You said while rubbing your wrists, still confused as to why the vigilante was here in the first place. "If you don't mind, I need to go kill my best friend now."

"Really? After I just saved you?" A smug smirk formed on his face as your mind pieced together the puzzle.

"Dick?! Seriously? This is why you needed an alibi?!"

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Grand Gestures

Request: A request for my love, George Weasley! Post-war (Fred is alive obvs) and all is good and well, and they've been ignoring their feelings for one another for so long and now, because George almost lost Fred and he's tired of ignoring how he feels so he shows up where she works, and just says he's in love with her and is fed up with waiting for them to pull their heads out of their asses! Extra fluff please?? You're the best Millie 💛💛💛 - @dreamer821

A/N: JJ! Thank you so much for requesting, and for trusting me with your idea! I truly hope I’ve done it justice! This is a load of fluff - just some good old fluff, because why shouldn't George get that? I’m also 12 followers away from 1000 followers!!!!! which is insane!!! I have a big celebration planned so let's get there! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of war and some swearing BUT THE FLUFF IS SO CUTE.

Word count: 2.2k

The Daily Prophet had a reputation within the wizarding world; it was known globally for its hard-hitting expos on the highest wizards in power across the globe. It had been particularly damning towards Albus Dumbledore upon his fall from grace with the rise of the Dark Lord yet backtracked on their view of the Headmaster upon his death.

You had started work at the publication six months after completing your eighth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Second Wizarding War had disturbed your final year of education. But the defeat of the Dark Lord allowed you to go back to Hogwarts to receive your NEWTs.

The war had taken so much from you; you had lost friends and family members through the Battle of Hogwarts. Memories of the events were burned into your brain; they couldn’t be avoided in the late hours of the night when your tears would fall silently down your face.

However, whilst the war had taken so much from you, it had brought you closer to your oldest friend George Weasley.

Growing up in the next village from Ottery St. Catchpole, the Weasley family were the closest wizarding family to yours other than the Diggory’s. You spent most weekends at The Burrow being spoiled rotten by Molly Weasley. Your parents worked so often; they felt awful for leaving you so much but as you grew older, you reassured them that you really didn’t mind spending time with the Weasley family.

The more time you spent at The Burrow; the more attached you grew to the twins. Being the same age as them, you fell into an easy friendship with them – playing pranks on their elder brothers, practicing Quidditch in the meadow behind their home. The friendship with the twins was something you treasured, and it followed you to Hogwarts where you were sorted into the same house.

Fred and George shouted the loudest when the Sorting Hat cried out Gryffindor after being placed on your head. Your grin matched theirs when you sat down across from them at the table. Charlie patting your shoulder in celebration as you sat next to him.

Your time at Hogwarts was defined by three things; your academic skills, the rising tension about the rebirth of the Dark Lord, and your love for George Weasley.

You consistently came at the top of your class in every subject; spending hours in the library, working on essays and revising topics you could recite like the back of your hand. George lost count how many times he had dragged you out of the library after curfew; after you had promised him just one more hour of studying.

Falling in love with George Weasley was the next natural step in your relationship. Your heart started to race every time he smiled in your direction; feeling your face heat slightly at any attention he gave you. Your skin felt overheated each time he would grab your hand out of the blue; knocking the breath out of you when he did.

Every day you told yourself you’d tell him; you’d confess what you had felt for so long.

Then the war came.

----------

Upon seeing him alive, standing in the Great Hall, covered in dust but his eyes still the brown you had come to love, you had thrown yourself into his arms.

He met you halfway; his arms wrapping tightly around you as he kept you pressed against.

“I thought…” You trail off, tears falling down your face.

George hushes you, “Not in a million years, love.”

You sniffle, your hands patting him down, checking for injuries. “Love, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

You nod rapidly, “I’m okay, not hurt, I just have some cuts and bruises.”

Something in George’s chest relaxes at that; relief flows through his body when your confirm that you’re okay. Through the entire battle, his mind was occupied with you – panicking over where you were and what was happening. Dread pooled in his stomach at the thought of you hurt.

He didn’t want the day to end without him having the chance to tell you how he feels about you.

But when he saw you running through the Great Hall to get to him; he wanted to tell you – wanted to tell you everything, but his mouth couldn’t find the words. So he settles for burying his face in your hair, inhaling the scent he had come to associate with love.

--------

It had been a year since the war ended, since Voldemort’s defeat and yet you hadn’t taken the chance that had been offered so many times.

When you joined him on his walks; the sun shining, his eyes brighter than the week before. There was a chance then to tell him.

When you found him in the kitchen in the Burrow at midnight, making enough hot chocolate for two because he knew you’d join him. In the silence, there was a chance then.

The war had brought you closer together; you started staying at the Burrow more. Molly only too happy to let you stay if it meant that George was starting to sleep through the night without waking from the nightmares of Fred’s near death experience. It had truly scarred George; the moment when he found him unconscious had been the darkest minutes of his life – he felt he had no direction; as if the very reason for his being on earth had been taken away. It had taken time for George to feel like he could let Fred out of his sight.

Chance after chance had presented itself to you, but you wanted to be in a place where you worried about your own mental health as well as his.

The war had been devastating, and whilst it had brought the two of you closer together, it had destroyed part of you that needed time to heal.

You were happy to be his shoulder to cry on when his thoughts got to be too much. For now, you were content with the walks and the midnight hot chocolates.

----------

George had had enough. He couldn’t keep his feelings from you any longer; he was close to combusting from what he felt for you.

Groaning, he lets his head fall onto the kitchen table. Fred laughs at the sight, “Still pining are we, Georgie?”

“I just don’t know how to say it, Freddie.”

“How about something grand?”

“What do you mean?”

“Put on a show, George! We’re the Weasley twins, we’ve never done anything that wasn’t a spectacle.”

George lifts his head from the table, “You’re right but what should I do?”

A smirk breaks out across his twin’s face. Fred has had this planned since he realised the romantic feelings between the two of you and the absolute obliviousness of the both of you.

--------

George fixes his patterned tie in a shop window across the road from the offices. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead but it soon flops back over. He let it grow out after the war and hadn’t had the time to get it cut since. He takes a deep breath, smiling at himself in the window. He can do this, he tells himself.

The doors to the Daily Prophet are never closed; instead, running on revolving doors that journalists and photographers constantly run in and out of. George wonders mindlessly whether any of them get dizzy from running in and out all day, chasing leads and capturing photos.

He shrugs to himself, stepping into the road. His heart is in his mouth with every step he takes towards the doors. His hands shake slightly as he enters the seemingly plain office building, but his breath is always taken away by the ornateness of it once entered. It’s disguised as a simple red brick building for muggles, to keep them off the scent of witches and wizards, but entering the foyer to the building, George wonders if he’ll ever enter a place as grandly decorated.

As he stands in the lift, giving the number of your floor to the lift operator, his voice breaks. He blushes at the sound of it before repeating himself, clearing his throat first.

The lift goes too fast for his liking; the butterflies in his stomach turning into a full blown riot when the doors open to the familiar floor. He had brought you lunch here a thousand times, if not more. Eating at your desk as you worked on another story and George occupied himself by watching you work.

Thinking back on it, George wonders if you’ve realised that he’s in love with you and you haven’t said anything as to not let him down.

He shakes his head clear of that thought, getting off the elevator. He won’t talk himself out of this; not now, not when he has come this close and listened to Fred’s every word.

Your desk is situated to the back of the room; next to the large window that covers the expanse of the wall. It provides a beautiful view of muggle London, but George would argue that the most beautiful view in all of London is you. You’ve pushed your hair back from your face as you shuffle papers on your desk; you huff as a piece of hair falls into your eyes. You’ve rolled the sleeves of your blouse up, exposing the tattoo on your right forearm that you got in memoriam for the family you had lost in the war. It was one of George’s favourite things about you; you were happy to move on, to start living your life again, but you would not forget.

A large smile breaks over your face at the sight of George in your office. He visited so often but you were never bothered by the man you had fallen in love with as a teenager.

“George,” You call, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He waves his hand in a nonchalant manner, “Oh… nothing, I was just in the neighbourhood.”

You glare playfully at the red-headed man, “I don’t believe you for one second, Weasley.”

George gasps, placing a hand on his heart, “You hurt me, (Y/N).”

“Oh hush,” You grin, “How can I help you today, George?”

George takes a deep breath, preparing himself, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“I’m all ears. Anything for you, Georgie.”

He smiles at you softly; overcome with what he feels for you. He’s never loved anyone like this; he’s had crushes in the past but that’s all they were – simple, childish crushes. But this; this is it for him. You’re it for him; if he could propose marriage to you here and now, he would because he knows with every single fibre of his being that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

George swings himself up onto the desk in front of yours; he pauses for a second to see if the desk will take his weight. He smiles satisfied when the desk doesn’t collapse under him – that would definitely ruin his plans for what he has to say.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your hands reaching to pull him down.

George bends at the knee, lowering himself to be closer to your level, “I’m making a grand gesture, love.”

You frown up at him, taking a step closer in case he falls, “You’re what?”

“I’m making a grand gesture, are you ready?”

You look at him with a puzzled expression on your face, but curiosity burns through you. “As I’ll ever be. Show me your grand gesture, George.”

George stands to his full height, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes a deep breath.

Now or never.

“I love you!” George shouts, arms spread as wide as his smiles as he balances precariously on your neighbour’s desk.

You hold a piece of paper to your face to hide the large grin growing across your face at the sight of the man you had loved since you were a teenager declare his feelings for you in such a grand gesture.

Your shoulders shake from the effort of keeping your laughter repressed. This had Fred written all over it, but you knew that George would happily go along with it. It had the Weasley twins written all over it even if it wasn’t one of them declaring their love for you.

“What do you say, love? Do you love me back?” He asks, eyebrows raised, waiting for your answer.

You stay silent for a minute; making him wait. Eileen at the desk to the left of yours throws a ball of paper at your head, “Honey, if you don’t tell him you love him, I will.”

You start to laugh, “Yes, Georgie. I love you too.”

Relief washes over him; making his legs feel like jelly as he jumps down from the desk. The smile doesn’t leave his face once – not as he pulls you in, not as he tilts your face, and not as he finally, after so so long, presses his lips to yours.

“I’ve waited so long to tell you and so long to kiss you,” George whispers when he pulls away.

“I think I’ve waited just as long as you have,” You quip.

“Grand gestures, aye?”

You laugh, kissing him again. It’s a while before you reply, but when you do you’re whispering, “Thank Merlin for grand gestures.”

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​

George Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

[babbushka]

Sinbound (1/8)

Daniel Jones x Reader 

5k; Content warnings: Spoilers for The Report. Mentions of torture/violence, but nothing explicit. 

Tumblr Masterlist // Also Available on AO3

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

Two years. That’s how long it’s been, up to this moment.

Two years in this basement, surrounded by concrete walls and the faces of ghosts staring into his very soul. It’s haunting, being down here, Dan thinks. Walking empty halls in the middle of the night, the way that sounds echo and come from all directions at once, everywhere and nowhere.

He walks the halls now, something sour sitting in the pit of his stomach, something close to panic, he thinks. He’s not going to let it turn into anything real, he doesn’t have the time for that.

It feels like he doesn’t have the time for anything, anything except for this report.

He’s the last to leave the office, the last to leave the building, just as he is every night. Usually he’d stay later, but as he scans his badge to open the door that leads to the lobby of this dark cinder block building, his eyes struggle to focus. He must look particularly rough, because as he does scan himself out, the good-natured security guard gives him a pointed look.

“Do you ever sleep, Dan?” The security guard asks, and despite the exhaustion in Dan’s bones, he manages a friendly smile.

“I used to, it got in the way of work.” He jokes, earning a smile back.

“Anything in that bag contain the real names of CIA officers, assets, or partners, or any information that would be in violation of the agreement between the Central Intelligence Agency and the United States Senate?” The security guard rattles off the protocol, a memorized passage that both he and Dan know by heart at this point.

“Have a good night, Jay.” Dan doesn’t answer the question, he doesn’t have to, he doesn’t need to.

Instead, with some kind parting words from Jay as permission to leave, he walks out through the door and into dark damp streets of the real world, a world which has passed him by, two years shot in the blink of an eye.

Dan sits in his car and sighs, for a minute or two, or twenty. He rubs the back of his hand against his eyes, blinks a couple of times. He’s been debating getting a pair of glasses, the new kind that block out the blue light from screens – god knows he could use that. He’s more tired than usual, and with good reason, he sighs. He looks at himself in the rearview mirror, sees the bags under his eyes.

“You wouldn’t look good with glasses.” He shakes his head at himself, dismissing the thought.

He sits in his car and folds his arms over the steering wheel, rests his head down on top of them and wills himself not to scream. He thinks back over the events of the day, of the last couple hours, thinks about how he’s going to have to go through this alone now. In retrospect, he should have known this was coming. He just had hoped…well. He had only hoped it wouldn’t be so soon, wouldn’t be right when they were finally starting to connect dots, piece together the puzzle, wouldn’t be right when they were only just beginning.

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

Dan noticed April gently approaching him, her arms crossed over her chest. He glanced at the clock, realized he’d been reading this document for nearly three hours, picking it apart, studying it. He’s glad for April’s audience, and he didn’t waste much time launching into what he’d just learned, knowing that she would be just as interested in it as him.

“Did you know that the CIA testified in 1978 before Congress on the subject of – of ‘coercive physical interrogation techniques’ in Latin America? And how they concluded that they were proven to be ineffective – that the prisoners would lie just to make it stop?” Dan scoffed, frustrated, shaking his head.

April had shifted in her spot a little then, had cleared her throat, but Dan wasn’t entirely paying attention, not even when she tried to interject with,

“Dan, there’s something I have to say – ”

“But before they did it in Latin America they did it in Vietnam! It didn’t work then and it isn’t working now and – ”

“Dan, Dan I’m leaving.” April had said, with such finality that it shut Dan up. She had held her ground, her arms crossed over her chest, in that dark cold basement, and told him, “The study, I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry. I got a job offer and I’ll be packing up once the Thanksgiving break finishes.”

Dan held his breath, wondered if this were another one of his nightmares. He’d been having them more and more recently, but this was never one of the plot points.

He blinked, stared at her and then at his computer, watched as the screen flickered for a moment, as if it too were uncomfortable, stressed.

“Thanksgiving.” Dan had replied (and in his car, Dan wants to kick himself for making such a point of himself, for proving their point because he had stupidly said), “That’s – okay well that still gives us a couple months and – ”

“It’s November, Dan. Thanksgiving’s next week.” Julian had gently reminded him.

“…Right.” He was deflated, embarrassed, and faced with the reality that maybe he was losing his grip on reality. He can’t look at her, at April. The screen flickered, and he sighed. “Right I – I…Right. Okay.”

“I’m sorry, I am, it’s just that…well you said it yourself, the CIA knew decades ago that this shit didn’t work. They knew and they’ve known the whole time that their program is ineffective now but who is listening to us? Who is waiting for us to come out with all of this?” April tried to explain, even though she didn’t really need to. Her voice was soft and gentle as she placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to talk some sense into him, “We’ve been down here for two years, Dan, the three of us in this basement, typing up thousands and thousands of pages. No one is waiting for us.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? That was the cold hard truth that Dan refused to accept. Every day, Monday through Friday and weekends, he’d been there. They’d all been there, working and working and working until their eyes grew sore, until their backs went stiff and their wrists ached, scrounging together as much information as possible – while under impossible restraints.

No cooperation from the CIA.

No cooperation from the DOJ.

Three people in a basement, trying their best to bring justice to an unjust situation, and being vilified for it.

Dan sighs, both in his memory of the exchange, and in his car.

“I understand. I do.” He said, because he did. He didn’t like it, he wouldn’t accept it, but he understood it. That was enough for April, enough for Julian, enough for them when Dan nodded and sighed once again, glancing at the calendar. “Thanksgiving.”

“I’m sorry.” April had said again, before going back to her desk.

Dan locked eyes with one of the mugshots on the wall, and he thinks that it’s not him that April should be apologizing to.

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

He starts the car, smacks a palm against his cheeks lightly to shake himself out of this funk. He’s just tired, he knows. He’s tired and it’s been a long day, that’s all. The dashboard lights up and he’s relieved to see it’s not that late, not really. It’s only eleven, he’s stayed later before. Washington D.C. is never not busy, but Dan finds that later in the evening like this, on a weekday no less, there’s always a little less traffic, for which he’s appreciative.

His stomach is appreciative too, it growls and growls the entire drive home, so much so that Dan makes a pit stop at a Chinese takeout place, lured in by the idea of fresh eggrolls and beef lo mein.

The neon sign blazes brightly in the night sky. Something about the world when it’s just finished raining makes everything more rich, more vibrant, Dan thinks. Maybe it’s got something to do with the way that the water on the ground reflects the colors. Maybe he’s just being sentimental, he doesn’t know.

“Mr. Jones! You’re here early.” Cindy, the young woman behind the counter greets him when Dan walks through the door.

“They let me out for good behavior.” His joke falls flat, just a little. Still, she looks at him with a fond smile and shakes her head, before ringing up his usual.

He’s been coming here at least once a week every week ever since this thing started. He never really meant to fall into the habit of relying on takeout, but when one works fifteen-eighteen hour days every day, the prospect of cooking and cleaning up your own kitchen quickly grows less than ideal.

Dan watches her for a while, as he hands over his credit card. He thinks about how she always smiles at him, and wonders if she smiles at everyone else too, or if that’s something just for him. He shakes his head slightly, chastising himself. Of course it’s not just for him, they’ve not spoken beyond the typical small talk while he sits around and waits for his order. She never initiates conversation past that of the weather, and why should she? She’s busy, Dan thinks, busy with the restaurant, with her life.

He tries not to let the thought depress him, the thought that maybe if it weren’t for this report, he could be out busy living his life too. Tries not to think about how he could be married by now, have kids by now. He tries not to think about the girlfriend he used to have, before all of this, tries not to think about how she left him because well, really, he had left her first. He wasn’t a very good partner, he knows – how could he have been? Holed up in that basement, unable to talk about anything he did.

Cindy hands him the neatly packaged bundle of his dinner, and he thanks her for it. She doesn’t know that he goes back to his apartment and eats by himself in the dark every night, but then again, she doesn’t have to. She gives him another one of her smiles as he offers a little wave goodbye, and he’s walking to the parking lot, the interaction and the thoughts behind him.

It’s worth it, he thinks, as he walks back to his car. One day, one day soon, Dan knows it’ll all be worth it.

Climbing into his car, Dan notices something.

Or maybe, he thinks he notices something.

There’s a car in the parking lot that wasn’t there before, was it? He doesn’t remember anyone getting out, no one came into the restaurant while he was there, and no one had left when he showed up. It’s black, with windows so tinted that he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to look in even on a bright sunny day. Something about that churns his stomach some more.

“You need to eat and sleep.” Dan shakes the paranoia out of his head, it wouldn’t do to dwell, not right now, not after he’s poured a fresh new batch of images of torture behind his eyelids, dancing in front of his vision whenever he seems to blink. Wouldn’t do to dwell on the thought that maybe he’s being followed.

He keeps an eye on the car though, as he pulls out of the parking lot. It doesn’t move, and he releases the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, as he turns some corners and goes down some back roads, ends up in front of the building he calls home.

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

It’s not that he can’t afford a house, because he can. He makes a significant amount of money, being a Senate staffer at his level. He could afford something nice in a nice neighborhood, green lawn and driveway out front, maybe an inground pool out back for the summer time. He can afford it, he just doesn’t see the point in it, not right now, not with the report.

The apartment though, isn’t bad -- it’s not! It’s a very nice, luxury apartment, with a doorman and a parking garage and everything.

“How’s it going Edgar?” Dan asks, as he passes said doorman, a young chipper guy who Dan wouldn’t have expected to have such a mature name.

Maybe if he and Edgar were friends, he’d call him Eddie. Dan’s not so sure what other nicknames there are for something old fashioned like that. Maybe if they were friends, he’d tell Dan.

“Not too bad Mr. Jones, yourself?” Edgar doesn’t comment on the fact that he’s practically hiding the takeout behind his briefcase, and Dan appreciates it immensely.

“Not too bad.” He echoes with a smile, before stepping into the safety and security of the lobby and making his way over to the elevators, his polished shoes clacking on polished tile as he gives a warm, “Stay dry out there.”

The elevator is empty, thankfully. He leans against the mirror wall and sighs deeply, groans just because he can. He lives on the eighth floor of the building, which gives him about ten seconds of peace, before the doors open again. He likes his apartment building, likes the doorman and the elevator. He likes how each floor has its own little display when he exits the elevator, decorated for whatever holiday is up next.

The lobby’s display probably should have clued Dan in to the fact that it was already November, but he can’t really be blamed for not noticing. He notices now though, and he can’t deny that he’s impressed. There’s a large wicker cornucopia on the antique wooden credenza which sits flush against the wall opposite of the elevator.

In the cornucopia are fake fruits and vegetables in a beautiful array of autumnal colors, reds oranges yellows and plum. He reaches out to pick up one of the faux squashes, impressed by the weight of it. He’d been halfway expecting cheap styrofoam, but these were more solid than that. Idly Dan realizes that he must have completely skipped over Halloween, and something about that puts a bit of a pep in his step.

He leaves the lobby and turns around the corner, goes down the hall until he’s faced with his front door. He’s lucky that there aren’t too many apartments on this floor, his neighbors are down a ways on either side. He likes the privacy, not that he uses it much. Putting his key in the lock and pushing the door open, he can’t really remember a time where he spent an entire day lounging in his living room.

Which is a shame, Dan thinks, because just as he does every time he comes home, he finds that he really does like this place. It’s bright, inviting. Not clean or sterile, nothing overly modern or minimalist, but he has enough dark and gloom at work, he doesn’t need that here, not in his one-bedroom apartment. The walls are a light grey color, the kitchen and living room accented with blue and cool tones. He likes blue, Dan does.

All his appliances are stainless steel, to go along with the color palette, and he likes that too. He thinks it makes him feel more like an adult, like a real person. And he is, isn’t he? Daniel Jones, Senate Staffer. That’s a real person name and a real person job, isn’t it?

Why does it all feel like a sham?

“Eat, and sleep.” He mutters to himself as he steps out of his shoes and puts them neatly in the closet by the door.

He rests his briefcase down on the kitchen counter, brings the takeout over to the rectangular dining table. He didn’t know what he was thinking, buying this dinner table. Maybe he thought he’d have guests over, women over. Now it just feels empty, a table too big for just one person.

Still, it gives him enough room to spread out, which is nice. He keeps the table set all the time, the way they do in old television sitcoms and in movies. He loves movies, and he puts one on now. Nothing high action or stressful, no he’s not got the emotional or mental bandwidth for that these days. Instead, he scrolls through his OnDemand and lets something from the ‘30s dance across the screen in black and white, while he eats his dinner.

Dan tips the takeout onto the plate in front of him – one of the things he refuses to do is eat straight out of the container. Something about that feels like crossing a line into some kind of downward spiral. He can wash one dish, one fork and knife, one glass. He can do that, he has the time for that.

He’s not got time for much, but he’s got the time for that.

Dan eyes his briefcase, thinks about what Jay had said. He’d never taken anything from work before, and he didn’t plan on taking anything from work anytime soon. No, everything in his briefcase was allowed to be there, what was in his apartment was allowed to be there.

“It’s for the best anyway,” Dan says to himself, as the music from the movie swells and flows, a beautiful tap number numbing his mind from the repeated images that are so keen to flash. “Imagine if you brought that shit home more than you already do.”

He scoffs at the idea, at smuggling something out of the basement, out of the building. What would he even do with it? Where would he even put it? No, he thinks, everything that’s important will stay in the office where it’s the safest. The CIA isn’t allowed inside that room, that’s part of the agreement that they made.

“Good thing too, they wouldn’t be too fucking thrilled to read the documents I’m reading.” He’s stopped caring about talking to himself a long time ago, and now that April and Julian will be leaving him, he figures he’ll need the good company, or else he may really go insane.

He sighs, sighs at the knowledge that they’re leaving.

Two years they’d been together, the three of them. Dan’s only a little upset – he’s more scared. Scared of having to go down this rabbit hole alone. Scared of wasting himself away in the basement, surrounded by the ghosts of men who were put through conditions so inhumane that it wakes Dan in the middle of the night, throat hoarse, screaming and raw. What’s worse is he’s scared that they’re right, that no one will care.

But Dan cares. Dianne cares. It’s enough to know that Dianne’s got his back, that’s enough.

Still, they’d gotten a lot accomplished in those two years.

It had started of course, with the tapes.

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

“What tapes?” Dan had asked, a confused frown on his face.

Dan had been in the middle of a meeting when Marcy, Chief of Staff to Senator Dianne Feinstein, had called him out for a moment or two, a folded newspaper in her hands. Dan recognized it, the New York Times, and it was opened to a ground-breaking story of coverups and espionage. He stood in Dianne’s office and scanned over the small print of the story, growing more and more confused with each word he read.

“Evidently, the CIA destroyed tapes of interrogations, interrogations that had been conducted on al-Qaeda detainees.” Marcy said, but nothing rang a bell for Dan.

“Does – did the Intel Committee know that there even were tapes?” He had to ask, wondering if he was simply out of the loop, or if this was about to become something much larger than it already was.

When Dianne shook her head and clasped her hands together behind her desk, when she pressed her lips into a thin line of frustration of her own, Dan knew that it was the latter.

“No, this New York Times story is the first we’ve heard of it. I want you to find out what was on those tapes and why they were destroyed. We’d like you to lead an investigation, Dan.” She spoke clearly, always had, Dianne did. Dan appreciated that, appreciated her candidacy.

It didn’t lessen his confusion, however.

“But if the tapes were destroyed then how do I – ” He started, handing Marcy back the newspaper with a thankful nod.

“Written records. The CIA says they have written records of what was on the tapes, thousands of pages. I want you to find out what it is they actually have, and read every word of it. I want to know what else they’re hiding.” Dianne instructed, and the weight of the task was enough to make Dan stand up a little straighter.

The concept of going through a thousand pages of written records of interrogations had, at the time, seemed like the most intimidating and overwhelming undertaking Dan would have gone through in his life. Oh, if only he had known what he was getting himself into, if only he had had a shred of a clue.

“Yes, Senator.” He agreed anyway, knowing the stress this was bound to bring.

And stressful it had been, but he had done it. He had found horribly disturbing materials indicative of the conditions in the CIA Detention and Interrogation program. He had read those thousands of pages, and he had relayed them to Dianne, and in the end, despite it all, the findings had remained classified.

But through the tapes, the door to the greater EIT Program report had been opened.

Dan of course was the immediate first choice to lead the investigation, considering he already had the security clearances as a result of working on the tapes case. And he had been happy to do it, happy to push forward – the tapes might remain classified, but if he could expose these conditions, if he could bring this to light, then that wouldn’t be in vain.

None of the suffering and illegal practices would have happened in vain.

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

It hadn’t been easy in the beginning, dealing with the CIA. Although, Dan huffs out a little laugh to himself as he watches the movie, when was dealing with the CIA ever easy? From the very first day they’d proven themselves to be smug bastards who held themselves above the law, the very thing Dan was trying to convict them of.

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

The first day he was given a very brief tour of the office, an off-site in Virginia where he would have to commute. It wasn’t a long drive, part Dan already knew that the drive would feel ten times longer after a grueling day of uncovering whatever bullshit the CIA was trying to hide.

He had been met by a middle-aged man named Sean Murphy, who had brought him inside. They had shaken hands, and Sean wasted very little time, in that way that CIA agents tended to do. They were brusque, the lot of them, Dan thought. He wasn’t particularly a fan, but whether that was because he was with the FBI for four years, or because he’d never had a good interaction with a CIA agent, was still to be seen.

“The room we’ve designated for you is SCIF; no phone reception, no photos, you know the drill.” Sean had led him down down down dark stairwells and corridors, deeper and deeper into the belly of the building.

Part of Dan wondered if they’d given him such a shitty space out of spite. It seems like something they would do, make the investigation as passive-aggressively frustrating as possible.

“Yes and per the requirements, the room is completely off limits to everyone aside from Committee personnel?” Dan kept his tone light, despite the literal darkness they were descending into. He was relieved to hear Sean’s hum of agreement.

“Absolutely. No one inside without your permission.” The Agent nodded, arriving finally at the door.

It’s metal, windowless, and locked with a combination pad. There’s a small placard which read: United States Senage Intelligence Committee Staff Only. By Order of the Director of Central Intelligence.

Sean pointed to the sign, as if to appease Dan, and Dan only nodded in response. Sean punched in the code on the combination pad, and opened the door for Dan to bare witness to this cell of a room that he was to spend the next foreseeable future working out of.

It was a spotless room, grey from floor to ceiling. Cold and sterile, no windows, no other doors, just six desks and six computer monitors.

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

Somewhere in the present, Dan grimaces at how he once had five other people working with him on this shitshow. How he had had two other Democrats and three Republicans, an attempt for bi-partisan facts. And now it was just him, all alone.

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

“Computers?” Dan had asked, running his hand over the top of one of them. He was glad to see that at least the space was clean – no dust swiped off when he traced his fingers lightly.

“All right here at your disposal. You get your own dedicated server just for you. We’ll be updating the database as we go, the files will be loaded onto the server as we collect them from across the Agency.” Sean had crossed his arms over his chest, and Dan nodded, understandable.

“Perfect, we’ll want all relevant documents as soon as possible, get this thing underway.” He put his hands on his hips, if Sean wanted to psyche him out with body language, Dan would show that he wasn’t to be trifled with, at least in this small way.

“Well, you know that could take some time, we have to vet it first.” Sean shrugged, “There’s a lot to go through and – ”

“Vet? No, Director Panetta agreed to give us everything pertaining to the program. Everything.” Dan interrupted him immediately, brows furrowed. “Why – who would be vetting it?”

There was simply no way that Dan could run a thorough investigation if materials were being withheld from the Committee, and if the CIA were the only ones allowed to vet CIA documents due to the sensitive nature of their material, then Dan could only imagine what they would withhold. The displeasure must have been clear as day across Dan’s face, because Sean only shrugged again.

“Listen Mr. Jones, we understand your situation, but it’s a big Agency. We have to make sure you don’t get anything you’re not supposed to.” He tried to explain, and Dan bit his tongue, instead turning to survey the room once again.

“There’s no printer.” He noticed aloud, “No paper?”

Sean had almost laughed at him for that, and still to this day, that makes Dan uneasy.

“No documents are allowed to leave the room without CIA approval. As I’m sure you can understand, Mr. Jones, paper has a way of getting people in trouble at our place.” Sean had said in a hushed voice, a conspiratorial voice, a voice that made Dan want to grit his teeth.

“And I’m sure that you can understand, Mr. Murphy, paper is how we keep track of laws, at ours.” Dan had replied seriously.

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

He should have known then, that they weren’t going to play nicely.

Two years, and they’d only been getting more and more difficult.

Dan finishes up his dinner relatively quickly, sleep dragging in his bones. He’d been up at the office bright and early at eight o’clock in the morning and he was now nearing on midnight. Bringing his dishes to the kitchen, he quickly but efficiently washes them and sets them on the drying rack near the sink, never bothering to use the dishwasher. He doesn’t need to, when he’s the only one here.

He goes straight to the bathroom, turns the shower on as hot as it will go. The hamper was only about half full – or was it half empty? – so he knows he can hold off doing laundry for another day or two at least, as he dumps his clothes from the day into the little heap.

Naked, Dan stands in front of the mirror and looks at himself, really looks at himself. He’s attractive, he thinks, in that way that he hopes so, anyway. He maintains his workout routine, which is probably a good idea, considering how much time he spends just sitting around and eating takeout. Maybe he’ll go for a run tomorrow. He thinks he deserves a day off, it’s not like he’s got to show up and report to anyone other than Dianne, but she isn’t expecting an update until after the holiday weekend anyway.

“Run tomorrow,” Dan tells himself in the mirror, lifts his arms and flexes his muscles just to check himself out, make sure that he knows what he looks like, makes sure he’s real, a real person. Steam from the shower begins to curl along the glass, and Dan knows it’s hot enough for him to get in and scrub the day away. “Shower, sleep, and then run tomorrow.”

He makes sure there’s a nice clean towel nearby, and sighs out a breath of relief as he steps under the scalding spray. He lathers up his shampoo and breathes breathes breathes in the calming scent of bergamot and sandalwood, pretends he’s down by the beach somewhere instead of here alone in his apartment. He’s too tired to jerk off, which feels a little sad but not sad enough to bother Dan too much.

He’ll indulge himself tomorrow, he decides as he rinses the suds away. Tomorrow will be a better day than this one, it has to be. He’ll make it so.

After washing his body and applying his conditioner, he steps out of the shower and wraps himself up, pads across the little hall to his bedroom. He slips into warm pajamas and is about to pull back the covers of his neatly made bed, when he notices a piece of paper resting in the tray of his printer/fax machine.

Dan frowns, how long had that been there?

He hesitantly, very hesitantly, approaches the fax machine. It’s a blank piece of paper, nothing on it – aft first glance. Dan thinks he catches a flash of something, maybe its his eyes playing tricks on him, he doesn’t know. But he turns on the lamp near his printer and holds the piece of paper up and his blood runs cold when he reads:

 56 Signers of the Declaration of Independence Memorial

Constitution Gardens, Washington, DC 20245

Sunday 11:30:00 AM

Destroy this.

 He doesn’t know what compels him, but he rushes to the window. He doesn’t open it, doesn’t do anything so foolish as that, but he peels back the curtain just enough to see it, to see that black car with its tinted windows, driving away.

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

Tagging some pals! If you’d like to be added or taken off this taglist, please just let me know! @clumsycopy @whiskey-bumblebee​ @umbrielchip000​ @supremehaunter​ @kyloawaken​ @candycanes19​ @thegreenmatt​ @ladygrey03​ @zimmerxman​ @niniita-ah @autumnlovesadam​ @solotriplets​ @steeevienicks​ @aweirdlookingtree​​ @heldcaptivebychaos​​  ​ @formerly-anonhamster​​ @lookinsidemyhead​​ ​ @adamsnacc-kler​​  ​ @magikevalynn​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​ @chelsjnov​​ @romancedeldiablo​ @helloimindelaware​​  ​ @peterisparker​​  @goodboybensolo​​  @the-marvelatic​​ @miasera​​ @emily-strange​​ @proxyfoxy​​ @disaster-rose​​ @hazydespair​​ @yosoymuyloca​​​ @1-800-choke-that-snoke​​​ @ktellmeastory​​​ @anongirl007​​ ​​ @okk–maaan​ @flapjacques​​​ @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @schopenhauerdeathsquad​ @nekonaomitard​ @feminine-machinegun​ @carloswilliamcarlos​ @contesa-lui-alucard​ 

[rpf-bat]

Celebrate The End Of Things With Cheap Champagne

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Genre: Angst 

Summary: @sirloin-steaks requested a Frank story based on the song “New Year’s Day” by Taylor Swift. 

It’s December 31st, 2006, and My Chemical Romance are ringing in the New Year, performing live in Times Square. Frank invites you to come out, and see the show. But, an after-party at the band’s hotel, takes a turn, that nobody saw coming.

Trigger warning for substance abuse. 

You stood on the deck of the ferry boat, watching the bright lights of New York City draw closer and closer. You used to take this ferry every day, from your hometown in New Jersey, to your job in Manhattan. But, that seemed like so long ago now. 

Once upon a time, your friend and former coworker, Gerard, would catch the morning ferry with you. But, after the September 11th attacks, he’d quit his job at your company, and started a band. His decision had puzzled you at first. But, the first time you saw My Chemical Romance perform live, you had understood. 

That was also the night that you met Frank. His guitar playing was electric, and you told him as much, after the band finished their set. It had been at some shitty dive bar - the only venues that would take them at the time. But, he’d told you that night, that he, and Gee, and the guys, were going to make it to the big time. You’d admired his ambition, and the two of you became fast friends. And he’d been right. 

Now, four years later, My Chemical Romance was one of the biggest bands in the country. Their album, The Black Parade, had just dropped two months ago, debuting at #2 on the Billboard charts. They had gotten popular enough, to receive a prestigious offer. Ryan Seacrest had asked them to play New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, tonight, in Times Square! 

Millions of Americans tuned in every New Year’s Eve, to see the concert broadcast, and watch the ball drop at midnight. It was crazy to you, that your dorky friends from back home in New Jersey, had gotten “big” enough to perform alongside glitzy pop stars, like Christina Aguilera.

You were so psyched for them. It would also be the first time you had seen them in a while. Frank was the only one of the guys who still technically lived in New Jersey. When he was home, and off the road, he would come over to your house all the time, to watch movies, or play video games, just like in the old days. But, the last time that had happened, had been months ago. He, and the rest of the band, had been traveling around nonstop, doing radio and TV interviews, to promote the new album. In February, they were supposed to embark on a world tour. 

“But after tonight’s show, we’ll have a little bit of time off, before the tour starts,” Frank had told you excitedly on the phone, yesterday afternoon, when he’d invited you to the gig. “I really hope we get to spend more time together, Y/N. I missed you.” 

You had missed him, too - more than words could describe. Your heart ached whenever you drove past his house, knowing that he wasn’t in it. You had things you wanted to say to him tonight - things you’d been waiting to tell him for a long time. 

Your heart hammered as you stepped off the ferry, and began walking towards Time Square. The streets were packed with people, all rushing towards the same place you were. You knew some New Yorkers had started camping out at three o’clock in the afternoon, to get the best seats. If Frank hadn’t sent you a VIP pass in the mail, you’d surely have ended up in the way back of the crowd, nowhere close to the stage. 

You showed your pass to the security personnel, who were looking through peoples’ bags at a checkpoint, near the entrance to the Square. They waved you through to a special designated area, in the front row, for friends and family of the performers. You were pretty sure the kid on your left was the fourth Jonas Brother. You felt remarkably out of place. 

But, then your phone beeped, alerting you that you had a text. A smile crossed your face, when you realized it was from Frank. 

We r about 2 head onstage, he said. I will see you after our set, I promise! There’s nobody I’d rather ring in 2007 with :)

You heard the crowd start screaming, and your head whipped around, as you watched the announcer stroll onto the stage. 

“Please welcome our next musical guest - My! Chemical! Romaaaaance!” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Their performance was amazing. They were one of a dozen artists performing tonight, so they only got to do three songs, before they had to get offstage and make room for the next act (Gwen Stefani, apparently). But, they put their whole hearts into those three tracks. Frank was jumping around like a maniac with his guitar, despite the freezing cold. Ray even had a pair of “2007” sunglasses on. 

You screamed for them, like every other girl in the crowd. At this point, you thought with a frown, there’s probably ten thousand people, with a crush on the same man, that I’ve been pining for since 2002. 

...Then again, you considered, the ten thousand other girls, don’t have backstage passes. 

Your frown disappeared, when you walked backstage, and a pair of arms immediately circled you. 

“Y/N!” Frank grinned. “Thank you so much for coming out and seeing us tonight!”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you grinned, hugging your friend back. “You were amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Frank said sincerely, releasing you from his grip. “Are you ready to get out of this cold?”

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

“Back to the hotel,” he explained. “Ray’s not feeling so good.” 

“Oh, no,” you frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Hi, Y/N!” Ray greeted, waving at you with one hand, while he pulled a tissue from his pocket, with the other. He blew his nose loudly. “....Sorry,” he muttered. “How are you?”

“It’s okay!” you assured him. “I’m fine...I’m sorry you’re not doing so well, though. You sound awful.” 

“It’s this East Coast weather,” he shrugged, throwing the tissue in a nearby wastebasket. “I hate doing outdoor shows, in the wintertime.” 

“You sounded great onstage,” you reassured him. “Nobody could even tell you were sick.” 

“The dorky sunglasses conceal how puffy his eyes are,” Frank confessed. “Poor guy didn’t sleep at all last night.” 

“Well, hopefully, I’ll sleep better tonight,” Ray chucked. “We’ve got two rooms at the Knickerbocker Hotel - one for me and Mikey, and one for Frank and Gerard.”

“Speaking of which,” you asked, “where is Gerard?” 

“Here I am!” chuckled a voice behind you, and you turned and saw your old friend Gerard, beaming at you. “Sorry, I was busy calling our cab. It’s so good to see you, Y/N! Thank you for coming.” 

“Thank you for inviting me!” you smiled back. “I’m really proud of you guys, getting to be part of such a major event.” 

“Oh, it’s surreal,” Gerard confessed. “I used to come up here with my mom and dad, and Mikey, every New Year’s Eve, to watch the show live.  I never thought I’d be in the show.” 

“We’re really lucky,” Mikey smiled, appearing beside Gerard, with a glass of champagne in his hand. 

“Ooh, where’d you get that?” Frank asked. 

“They’re giving them out to all the VIPs,” Mikey explained. “Would you like one, Y/N?” 

“I don’t think I qualify as a Very Important Person,” you confessed. 

“Nonsense,” Frank shook his head. “You’re very important to me.” 

“Yeah,” Mikey nodded. “You’ve been good friends with all of us for a long time. You can have whatever you want.” 

“No time for that,” Gerard shook his head. “Our cab’s here.” 

“C’mon,” Frank said, lacing his fingers with yours. “We have to go out through a secret exit, so that the fans don’t mob us.” 

“Oh, shit, really?” you chuckled. “I feel like a secret agent.” 

“Our lives have gotten so weird, honestly,” Gerard confessed. “I’m kinda glad that we’re gonna put some distance, between us and these crowds.” 

“Yeah, it’ll just be five of us, once we get to the hotel,” Mikey nodded. “Well...four. Ray is gonna go to sleep in our room, as soon we get there. But, the rest of us can party in Frankie and Gee’s room til midnight.” 

“Or later,” Frank grinned mischievously.

You smiled at your four oldest friends. “I can’t wait.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“Ok, question,” you asked uncertainly, staring at the yellow cab in front of you. “How are we gonna fit five people in there?”

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze,” Frank chuckled. 

“Well, hey, we’ve managed to fit in smaller places before, right?” Gerard pointed out. 

“True,” Ray laughed. “Remember when we were traveling around New Jersey, in our shitty little van?”

“We were all practically right on top of each other,” Mikey recalled. 

When the band had first started, you had gone with them, on weekend trips, to play a gig, in the next town over. You’d squished between the boys, somehow, and helped them carry their equipment into the venue. Watching them rock the faces off the local kids, had been so much fun. 

But, as time went on, they started getting offers to play at clubs across state lines. Day trips turned into months-long tours. You couldn’t commit to that - unlike Gerard, you still had a day job. And so, you started seeing the guys less and less. Then they’d gotten a record deal - and everything had gotten even more complicated. 

“That was….a long time ago,” you frowned. 

“Yeah,” Frank said wistfully. “I wish we had the chance to do that again.” 

“Well, now, most of the time, we don’t have to squish,” Ray pointed out. “We have a nice, roomy tour bus, with bunks and everything.” 

“You’ve come a long way,” you smiled weakly. 

You were quiet as you piled into the car. As the taxi started driving down the street, you stared out at the night sky, and the city lights flying by. Suddenly, Frank gently touched your hand, making you turn, and face him. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, giving your hand a squeeze, “are you alright, Y/N?” 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” 

“Tonight’s supposed to be a party, remember?” he teased. “So, try and smile for me, okay?” 

“I’ll try,” you promised. It was far easier to smile, with him around. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You could tell as soon as you walked into the lobby, that this was a five star hotel. A crystal chandelier, cast a soft glow over the pristine decor. 

“We already got our room keys earlier,” Gerard explained. “So, we can go ahead up.” 

You nodded, and followed him and the guys to the elevator. 

“I think I’m gonna crash as soon as we get upstairs,” Ray confessed, sniffling into his tissue again. 

“I don’t blame you,” you said sympathetically. The elevator dinged, as you arrived at your floor. 

“Since I won’t see you guys until tomorrow,” Ray sighed, “Happy New Year, alright?”

“Happy New Year, Ray,” you waved, as you watched him unlock his hotel room door, and head inside. “Feel better soon!”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Ray wheezed, closing the door behind him. 

“Alright, let’s head into our room,” Frank grinned, opening the door to the adjoining room. “What do you want to do first?” 

“Let’s turn the TV on,” Mikey suggested, immediately looking for the remote. “I wanna see the other performances. They’re still broadcasting live right now.” 

“Oh, true,” you nodded. “We can still watch the ball drop tonight, on this flat screen!” 

“I wanna look at the room service menu,” Gerard grinned. “Y/N, you can have anything you want. Just let me know.” 

“Thanks, Gee,” you grinned. “Should we get champagne to toast with, at midnight?” 

“I’ll get it for you three,” Gerard shrugged. “For me? I guess I’ll order a club soda. If they put it in a fancy glass, I can still clink it with yours when the clock strikes twelve.” 

“Yeah, that works,” Frank agreed. “Looks almost the same.”

You frowned. That’s right, you remembered. Gerard is about two and a half years sober now. 

You remembered going to see them, at their Englishtown show, during Warped Tour ‘04. Gerard had been a mess. You hadn’t seen him in two or three months, and you were shocked how much he’d deteriorated. You’d felt helpless. If you’d had more time, maybe you could have talked some sense into him. But, the very next day, he had to get back on his bus, and head to another gig, in Pennsylvania. 

Frank had called you on the phone, maybe a week later, and told you Gerard had decided to get clean, on his own. You didn’t know how, or why. You didn’t know fifty percent, of what went on in your friends’ heads anymore. 

“.....Y/N?” Frank called, his voice stunning you out of your thoughts. 

“Sorry,” you blinked. “Did you say something?” 

“Yeah, I said I’m going out to the balcony, to have a smoke,” Frank replied. “I asked you if you wanted to come with me?”

“Oh….yeah, sure,” you nodded, and followed him out. “Got a light?” 

“Here,” Frank said, pulling a lighter out of his pocket, and handing it to you. 

You took a pack of Marlboros out of your purse, and lit one. “Thanks,” you said, handing it back. 

Frank lit his own cigarette, and took a drag. You glanced over at him as you inhaled the nicotine, watching how the cool night breeze tousled his hair. 

“I thought you said on the phone, that  you were trying to quit,” Frank raised an eyebrow. 

“I should,” you sighed, exhaling smoke. “I know it’s bad for me.”

“Sorry for being a bad influence,” Frank laughed. “I know I got no room to talk.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shrugged, taking another puff. “I guess I’m just stressed tonight.” 

“About what?” Frank asked, looking at you curiously. 

“It’s stupid,” you mumbled. 

“Tell me,” Frank insisted, taking his free hand in yours again. Your heart raced at his casual touch. 

“I just…,” you sighed, unsure how to begin. “I never see you guys anymore.” 

“I’m sorry,” Frank frowned. 

“No, don’t be,” you shook your head. “I’m being selfish. I should be happy for you, right? It’s a good thing, that the band has gotten so successful, that you have fans in practically every city in the world, that want to see you.” 

“Yeah, they get to see me,” Frank groaned. “But, I don’t get to see my friends, or family - any of the people I love most - for months at a time.” 

The people he loves most. Your face reddened. Did you really fit into that category? 

“After tonight,” you asked, “how long will you be in town?” 

“The first night of the tour is February 22nd,” Frank explained. “The gig’s in New Hampshire, so we’ll be flying out the night before.” 

“So we have….slightly less than two months, to spend time together,” you calculated. “And after that, the next time you’ll be in my neck of the woods is…?” 

“Bamboozle Festival,” Frank replied. “That’s in May.” 

“Wow,” you frowned. “Are you playing all three days of the festival, or…?”

“Nah, just one,” Frank said sheepishly. “We’ll be in Jersey for a night….the very next day, we’ll be playing a gig in fuckin’ Maine.”

“The fun never stops, I guess,” you deadpanned. 

“I mean, it is fun,” Frank admitted. “I love being a musician. Playing my guitar, onstage, is all I’ve wanted to do, my entire life.” 

“Yeah, it’s your dream,” you said quickly, “that’s why I should just shut up, and let you…”

“You don’t have to shut up,” Frank interrupted. “Y/N, I want you to tell me how you feel.” 

“How do I feel, Frank?” you repeated, your emotions starting to get the best of you. “I feel like I don’t even know my friends at all anymore! I don’t want you to turn into a stranger, whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. I’m still working the same dead end job I had the day I met you….but your life has completely changed. You’re gone 80% of the year, and yeah, I know you text or call me whenever you can, but when I’m not there face to face, I still miss so much of your life! You used to be just….a guy next door, that I could listen to records and smoke with. Now you’re some….millionaire rock star. That coat you’ve got on right now is probably worth more than my first car, and you’ve probably got girls in every town, throwing their panties at you…” 

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t look twice at any of those girls,” Frank said, looking you in the eye, “if a certain someone, told me, that she wanted me to be hers, and hers alone.”

A certain someone….? you gasped. Did he mean…?

“Hey!” a voice interrupted, and you jumped, as the sliding glass door slid open, and Gerard stepped onto the balcony. “There you guys are!” 

“H-hey,” you stammered, taken aback. 

“Everything alright?” Gerard asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s cool,” Frank mumbled, not looking at you at all, as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What did you need?”

“We’ve got about five minutes til midnight,” Gerard smiled. “Figured you guys would want to come back inside, so we can count down the last seconds of 2006 together.” 

“Oh, right, of course,” you blinked. “Did room service already bring up the champagne flutes?”

“Yeah, they’re ready to go,” Gerard nodded. “....Wait. Where’s Mikey?” 

“We thought he was with you,” Frank said, looking confused. 

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “I went to the bathroom, and when I came back out, he was gone. If he’s not on the balcony with you guys, where did he go?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe he went to his and Ray’s room?” 

“Oh, yeah, that would make sense,” Gerard nodded. “Let’s go get him.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard knocked loudly on the hotel room door. 

“Come on, Mikey!” he called. “We got three minutes til midnight, you’re gonna miss the ball drop, dude!” 

The door swung open, but instead of Mikey, a sleepy-looking Ray answered. 

“Mikey’s not in here,” Ray said with a yawn. “It’s just me.”

“Oh, sorry for waking you up, man,” Gerard apologized. 

“Wait,” Frank realized. “If he’s not in either hotel room, then, where is he?” 

“Maybe he went to go get ice?” Ray suggested. 

“Or maybe he went downstairs, to ask the front desk guy something,” you guessed. 

“Let’s split up,” Frank suggested. “You guys go down the hall and see if he’s by the ice machine. Y/N and I will look for him downstairs.” 

“Yeah, we can do that,” Gerard agreed. “Hopefully we’ll find him before the end of the year!” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“This elevator’s taking too long to get up here,” Frank said impatiently, hitting the down-arrow button a second time. 

“Wanna just take the stairs?” you suggested. 

“Works for me,” Frank shrugged. 

You followed him into the stairwell, your heart still pounding from the conversation on the balcony. What would have happened, you wondered, if Gerard hadn’t walked in when he did? 

Frank kept his eyes on the flight of stairs in front of you, not saying a word, as you walked past the sign, indicating that you were now on the second floor. 

“Maybe he didn’t go this wa...oh, fuck,” Frank gasped, coming to a sudden stop.  

Your blood froze, when you saw what he was looking at. Mikey’s unconscious body, lay sprawled across the bottom steps. He was face down….he didn’t even look like he was breathing. 

“Mikey, oh my god!” You ran to his side, flipping him over, so that you could see his face. “Frank, we have to help him!” 

The bassist looked deathly pale, and his lips had turned a horrifying shade of blue. You felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was disturbingly weak.

“Come on, Mikey, wake up!” you pleaded, shaking his shoulders. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!” 

“I think he’s overdosing,” Frank realized, kneeling by your side. 

“On what?!” you gasped. 

“On whatever he went downstairs, to pick up from his dealer,” Frank growled. “Goddamnit! We need to call 911.” 

“Mikey!” a familiar voice called, and Gerard and Ray burst into the stairwell. 

“Oh, god!” Gerard gasped, when he saw his brother, lying eerily still in your arms. 

“I’m trying to wake him up!” you explained. “It’s not working...fuck, what do I do?” 

“He needs a doctor,” Ray realized, whipping out his cell phone. “....Hello? Yes, we’re having an emergency…...the Knickerbocker Hotel….umm, Six Times Square….please hurry….my friend isn’t breathing…” 

You shook Mikey’s shoulders again. His eyes fluttered open, but his pupils were like pinpricks. He gasped and choked, like he couldn’t get air into his lungs. 

“Come on, Mikey, hang in there!” you begged. Oh god, what if he died?!

You could see the headlines now. World Tour Canceled After Bassist’s Hospitalization. You’d wanted more time with Frank….but not like this, damnit! 

Since when did your oldest friend’s kid brother do smack?! 

I really don’t know anything about them anymore, you realized, tears clouding your vision as you listened to him wheeze. Minutes felt like hours. 

“Out of the way!” called an unfamiliar voice, and you gaped as two paramedics dragged a stretcher down the stairs. 

“Ma’am, we need to move him,” a uniformed woman barked. “Time is of the essence.” 

You let the EMT scoop Mikey up, and load him onto the gurney. 

“What did he take?” the second paramedic asked. 

“I….I don’t know,” you stammered. “We just found him like this.” 

“Ma’am,” the man pressed, “we’re not here to judge anybody. But, any information you have, can help us figure out what antidote he needs…”

“Here,” Frank said. “I found this next to his body.” 

He handed the paramedic a needle. Oh, god. 

“I see,” the paramedic nodded grimly. “Judith! Get this man two milligrams of naloxone, stat!” 

“Is….is he gonna be okay?!” Gerard gasped, tears in his eyes. “That’s my baby brother….”

“We’re going to try our best to save him, sir,” the female paramedic (Judith) promised. “We need to move him to the hospital, as soon as possible.” 

“We’re only going to be able to fit two extra people in the ambulance,” the male paramedic warned. “Who’s going?” 

“Me,” Gerard said immediately. “He’s my family!” 

“Who else?” the paramedic demanded. “We don’t have time to waste.” 

Mikey gasped for air on the gurney, his face growing bluer by the minute. 

“I’ll go,” Ray decided. “Frank, you stay here with Y/N, okay?” 

“O-okay,” Frank stammered. You clung to him,shaking, as you watched the paramedics drag your friend out of the hallway, to the ambulance waiting outside. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“.....Happy New Year!” the oblivious voice of Ryan Seacrest rang out from the television screen, as you walked back into the hotel room, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

Confetti was falling in Times Square, as the credits rolled. You’d missed the countdown. There had been no toast, no midnight kiss (although perhaps, the latter had been foolish to even hope for.) 

“This wasn’t how 2007 was supposed to start,” Frank sobbed, sinking down onto the bed. “Fuck!” 

“H-he’s gonna be okay,” you stammered. “The doctors are gonna save his life…”

“You don’t know that!” Frank cried, kicking a bottle of Dom Perignon off the coffee table. It shattered, sending broken glass and alcohol all over the floor. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N,” Frank apologized, kneeling to pick up the shards. “I shouldn’t have done that…”

“Ssh, stop, you’re gonna cut yourself,” you warned, grabbing his hands. “We can clean that up later, okay? I understand that you’re only lashing out, because you’re scared…” 

“Of course I’m scared,” Frank wept, burying his head in your shoulder. “That’s one of my best friends.” 

“He’s my friend, too,” you said softly, stroking Frank’s hair. “I’m scared, too, but there’s nothing we can do now, but pray.” 

You sat down on the bed, and Frank sat with you, still sobbing into your shirt. You were choking back tears yourself. 

“I….I didn’t know he was doing that stuff,” you said guiltily. “I’m never around you guys anymore….I….”

“I didn’t realize the extent of the problem, either,” Frank confessed. “And I’m with the kid almost every day. I should’ve noticed, but I was too self absorbed, doing my own dumb shit…” 

“Ssh, it’s not your fault, Frankie,” you soothed. “We got him, to the people that can help him. That’s all we can do.” 

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Frank sniffed, still clinging to you tightly. 

“No,” you agreed, your heart aching, “it doesn’t.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You woke the next morning, to the feeling of warmth against your side. Your eyes fluttered open, and you realized that Frank was sleeping next to you. What?!

Your cheeks reddened as you stared at his sleeping face, so close to your own. “...Frank? Why are you…?”

Reality filtered back into your head, slowly, as you recalled the events of the previous night. Oh god….Mikey! 

Was he okay? You still didn’t know. You and Frank had sat beside each other on the hotel room bed, crying, clinging to each other for comfort. You supposed you had fallen asleep like that. 

“.....Huh?” Frank groaned sleepily. “Y/N…?” 

He shot up, jerking away from you, almost as soon as he realized, that your bodies were touching. “I...I’m sorry!”

“N-no, it’s fine…” you stammered. 

“Fuck….I need to check my messages,” Frank realized, groping for his cell phone on the bedside table. He sat up,and put his feet on the floor. “Owww!”

“What’s wrong?” you gasped. 

“I just stepped on a shard of the bottle I broke last night...fuck!” Frank swore. 

“Oh no,” you winced. “Is it bleeding?” 

“No, it’s just cut a little,” Frank shook his head. 

“Do you want me to call the front desk,” you offered, “and see if they can bring up some Band-Aids?”

“No, it’s not that serious,” Frank insisted, opening his flip phone. His eyes widened, as he clicked through his inbox. “Oh….oh, thank god…” 

“What?” you demanded. 

“Ray texted me, around like two in the morning,” Frank explained. “He said Mikey’s gonna make it. The doctors were able to reverse the overdose in time, and he’s gonna make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” you cried, tearing up from sheer relief. You had been so scared, that Ray’s text, would say that Mikey hadn’t survived. He’s gonna be okay. He’s alive. 

Frank, however, didn’t share your grateful smile. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I’m sorry that you had to see that, last night,” Frank frowned. “We ruined your New Year’s Eve.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. “I’m glad I was there, to help you find him. I wouldn’t have wanted you to go through this alone.” 

“I hate to ask you for even more help,” Frank grimaced, “but, we need to clean this shit up.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, leaning down to help him pick up the glass shards. “It wouldn’t be fair, to leave it for the hotel staff to pick up.” 

“Some bands dig trashing hotel rooms,” Frank sighed, grabbing a towel from the bathroom, to mop up the puddle of champagne. “Not me, though. I feel bad, making a mess, that some housekeeper is gonna have to deal with.” 

He’s a kind person, you thought to yourself, as you carefully placed the pieces of bottle into a waste basket. Not everyone would take the time to do this, after the night we had. 

“Shit, look at this,” Frank sighed, pointing down at the hardwood floor. “Nobody blew out the stupid scented candle, that Housekeeping lit before we checked in, to make the place smell pretty. Now, there’s dried wax all over the floorboards.” 

“You had bigger things to worry about last night,” you reminded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice the candle was still burning, with everything else going on. I would’ve reminded you to put it out.” 

“That’s not your job,” Frank said, pulling a guitar pick from his pocket. He tried to use it to scrape some of the wax up, but it didn’t seem to want to budge. “None of this is your job.” 

“What do you mean?” you blinked. 

“You said last night, that you don’t see us for months at a time,” Frank reasoned, scraping harder with his pick. “And then...last night, you finally see us again, and this happens.”  

“You couldn’t have predicted something like that,” you assured him. 

“We complicate your life, Y/N,” Frank frowned. “I complicate your life. You don’t need this fucking drama. The best thing I could for you, is probably just leave you alone. Stop inviting you to see us when we’re in town. I’ve grown apart from a lot of friends since I left New Jersey. Why can’t I just let this relationship go, too?” 

“I don’t want you to do that!” you protested. “Frank, our friendship is really important to me. I would be miserable if you suddenly stopped inviting me to hang out.” 

“I don’t just want to hang out with you,” Frank mumbled. “I want more than that.” 

“....Huh?” you cocked your head. 

“But it’s not fair, for me to ask you for that,” Frank signed. “Not when I know damn well, that I’m about to spend the majority of 2007, hundreds of miles away from you.” 

“Ask me for what?” you demanded. You suddenly remembered the words, he had spoken to you on the balcony, before your night had gone straight to hell. 

“I wouldn’t look twice, at any of those girls, if  a certain someone, told me, that she wanted me to be hers, and hers alone.”

“Nothing,” Frank murmured, picking fruitlessly at the wax on the floor again. “It’s stupid. Ignore me.”

“I won’t ignore it,” you insisted. “Frank, what were you going to ask me?” 

Frank looked at his shoes. 

You sat down on the floor next to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “....Frank?” 

“I was going to ask you...to be mine,” Frank confessed. 

You gasped, audibly. No way….he really felt the same way about you, that you did about him?!

“But, it’s not right, for me to ask you, to make that commitment to me!” Frank said miserably. “Not when I’m just gonna disappear on you again. And...you saw, last night, what my life has turned into. What my band has turned into. I’m a mess….why would you want to be with someone like me?” 

“Frankie, I love you,” you said plainly. Now that you knew he returned your feelings, there was no point in hiding it anymore. “I’ve loved you for years.” 

He raised his head to look at you. His hazel eyes, swimming with tears again, stared into yours. “You….you mean that?” 

“Yes,” you said emotionally. “I’ve been in love with you for so long….but, you’re a famous rock star now. I’m still just an art school dropout. You can do so much better than me.” 

“Funny,” Frank chuckled bitterly, “I was about to say the same thing, about you.”

“Frank, there isn’t anybody better than you,” you sighed, and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a searing kiss. 

His lips met yours, hesitant at first, but then suddenly you were toppling to the floor, as he pressed himself against you, with four years worth of buried desire. 

Life was so short. You realized that now. 

His hands tangled into your hair as he kissed you over and over. “Be mine,” he gasped, coming up for air. “Please be mine, Y/N….even if it fucks up everything…” 

“Frankie, it’s okay,” you assured him, as you gazed up at him tenderly. “I don’t care if you’re gone a hundred nights. You’re worth waiting for. Just promise me, that when you do finally come home, I can….have you.” 

“Oh, you can have me any way you want me,” Frank breathed, leaning down to kiss you passionately again. “I won’t touch anyone else while I’m away on tour….nobody else is as beautiful as you. You’re the only one that I want.”

“You’re the only one that I want, too, Frankie,” you promised him, claiming his mouth once again. “I want you every day. Not just when you’re the toast of the town. Not just when times are good. I want to be there with you, through the bad times, too. I want to help you when you’re scared, or even when something fucked up happens, like last night... because I love you. I’ll stay with you, no matter what….even when it’s hard, or it’s wrong, or you’re making mistakes. I don’t care. I just want to be with you.” 

“I want to be with you, too, Y/N,” Frank vowed, kissing your eyes, your nose, your mouth. It was like he couldn’t get enough. “You’re the woman I choose….because, hey, there might be lots of women who’d love to be my New Year’s Eve kiss. But, you’re the only woman I know, who would stick by my side, helping me clean up bottles on New Year’s Day.”