#we are going to drink beer while crying and releasing thirty songs

[francesderwent]

maybe “closure” was the real Red (Taylor’s Version) easter egg we missed along the way

#she said we are NOT putting our broken hearts in a drawer #we are going to drink beer while crying and releasing thirty songs

[hermannsthumb]

"different young (rebound) hunk on his arm every week…newton geiszler who?" CAN YOU WRITE THIS FIC PLEASE? Hermann as the new heartthrob of the science world, cheekbones that can cut glass, baby gay scientists everywhere using appalling math-related pick-up lines in an attempt to be the booty call of the week. Newton catches a glimpse of him at a fundraiser and the Precursors have to stop him from crying with lust.

so tragically I plotted a whole fic for this and then came back and realized this prompt involves PRU but I liked my idea too much so unfortunately I won’t be filling the PRU part 😔 but I DO love heartthrob hermann sooooooooo. this can be pre-PRU if you want to make it sad actually CW for drinking and mild allusion to not sfw stuff. when will these boys talk about their feelings?

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

Hermann doesn’t like going out to bars at the best of times, least of all after he’s had the sort of exceptionally long day he’s had today (fighting his way through airports and hotel lobbies, fielding interview questions, having not even a minute’s break from Newton), but even he will admit that the one Newton has dragged him along to tonight could be far worse. The sorts of bars Newton fancied throughout their stint at the Hong Kong Shatterdome tended to be far hipper, far more becoming for a man of his (and, admittedly, Hermann’s) age, and likely aimed at tourists: pounding music, dark rooms, neon lighting, overpriced drinks, an inability to navigate through throngs of dancing bodies without bumping into at least half a dozen people. For that reason Hermann’s blood practically ran cold earlier that evening when, fresh out of their latest television interview, Newton insisted that Hermann needed to unwind a little. That Newton would help him unwind a little.

Hermann was pleasantly surprised to find that though the music (a live band) is still loud, and drink prices are still inflated, at least he can see Newton, and at least the few people dancing are dancing far away from them. And, well, perhaps it’s made him more amenable to (mostly) matching Newton drink-for-drink, and to indulging him in knocking back not one, but two rounds of the most disgusting-looking pink shots of all time, and— “Look, dude,” Newton declares, tossing an arm around Hermann’s shoulder. He’s shouting and leaning in too-close to Hermann, not because he’s intoxicated, but rather to be heard over the band, which has launched into a rather enthusiastic cover of some song Hermann’s sure he’s heard blaring from Newton’s iTunes before. His stubble tickles the shell of Hermann’s ear. “Just say it with me. It’s that easy. R-e-t-i-r-e-m—”

“We are thirty-five,” Hermann says. “We can’t just—”

“We absolutely can,” Newton says. He nudges his cocktail glass into Hermann’s chest, sloshing a bit of hot pink Watermelon Crush on his neat button-up. Hermann stifles a sigh; the shirt is brand new, bought just that morning for the interview, and will already be needing a wash. And smelling like liquified hard candy for the rest of the evening. “You and me, lying on a beach somewhere, sleeping in until noon every day, learning how to—to fish, or paint, or whatever the hell we want—”

“Not a beach,” Hermann says immediately. “I’m bloody well sick of beaches. Oceans, lakes, bays—no more."

Indulging Newton’s ridiculous little fantasy, even for a moment, is a mistake: Newton’s face lights up in a grin, and he tucks his arm around Hermann’s shoulder to pull Hermann flush against him. Hermann’s barstool wobbles dangerously. “Okay, no beaches. Far away from any coastline. The mountains, then.” It’d be just their luck, Hermann thinks, if the next Breach reopened far away from the ocean, too. Like it followed them somehow. “Let’s move to Switzerland or something and buy a log cabin or a cave and become weird recluses. I’ll learn how to ski, and you can grow a beard, and we can buy all our furniture at Ikea—” He frowns. “Is Ikea from Switzerland? Sweden? I haven’t been since college.”

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to move anywhere with you in the first place,” Hermann says, “let alone retire to do so. What on earth makes you think I’d follow you to Switzerland? I’ve no interest whatsoever in Switzerland.”

“Uh, because we’re best friends?” Newton says. “Anyway, what else would you do?”

“Anything,” Hermann says. He begins to tick off all the possibilities on his fingers while Newton watches him, unimpressed. “I could stay in Hong Kong—I’m sure they’d appreciate help monitoring what remains of the Breach. Or I could move back to England and resume my old teaching post, if they’d have me.” Hermann knows they’d have him; they’ve already sent him at least a dozen emails practically begging him to accept tenure. “Or back to Germany, with my parents.”

“I could totally do all that, too,” Newton says. “Well—not the Germany thing. No offense, dude, but your parents kinda suck. I don’t think I want them as my roommates.”

Hermann decides not to mention that the odds are very high they would not want Newton as a roommate, either. He’s tempted to ask Newton if he meant what he said about them being best friends—for Hermann can’t recall the last time someone called him their best friend, if ever—but Newton’s arm is slipping from his shoulders, and Newton is pulling out his mobile phone and tapping away frantically at it. Hermann feels strangely bereft without his touch. “Okay,” Newton says, his eyes scanning the screen, “Ikea was founded in Sweden, but they moved headquarters in—”

“Excuse me?”

Hermann and Newton both startle, Newton nearly dropping his phone, and the bartender who’d interrupted them smiles apologetically. He’s holding a pint of what appears to be beer. “Sorry to bother you guys,” he says to them, “but this is from the young man over there in the pink shirt.”

At the sight of the drink Newton brightens and puffs out his chest visibly. Bloody perfect, Hermann thinks. Just want Newton needs—another boost to his ego. “No sweat,” Newton says. He tosses his mobile to the bar counter casually and reaches to accept the glass. “Please tell him I’m super flattered, but—”

“Actually, sir,” the bartender interrupts, and—to Hermann’s surprise—slides the glass away from Newton’s grasp and over to Hermann. Hermann takes it without a word, not quite daring to believe it. Down the bar, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the flash of a bright pink shirt, but he can’t quite make himself turn to acknowledge the mystery admirer. Is that rude of him? No one has ever sent him a drink before. He’s not quite sure of the etiquette. “It’s, um, not for you.”

Newton deflates like a popped balloon. A blush spreads across his cheeks, barely visible beneath his freckles, which have come out again in the spring sunlight now that they’re not spending all their time in the Shatterdome basement. Hermann likes the look of them; he thinks they’re sweet, and that if he traced his fingertip across them they’d make a pattern of some sort, like a constellation. Not that he ever would, of course. Newton would surely ridicule him. "Right, duh,” Newton says.

He waits until the bartender is gone to round on Hermann. “Dude!” he says, almost accusatory, “Fourth time this week!”

“It is not,” Hermann protests. It’s weak to his own ears: even he isn’t thick enough to miss the sudden influx of attention he’s gotten since their first television interview last month. Hermann was never exactly popular, never exactly the sort the drive people wild with lust or romantic longing, yet it seems as if he can’t go anywhere these days without turning a few heads (including mid-twentysomething heads, mortifyingly enough) and getting a few cellular numbers slipped into his hand. Yesterday, a young man on the metro asked Hermann if he might like to see a movie some time. The day before that, another man wearing a jean jacket full of enamel pins stepped up to Hermann in a Starbucks and asked him if he could ­call-cu-later. Last week, a starry-eyed college student stopped Hermann outside a hotel to ask him to sign his Calculus 3 textbook, excitedly telling Hermann he switched degrees to astrophysics not a few days prior after reading an interview with Hermann in a rather obscure pop science magazine, and had blushed when Hermann thanked him. Newton had laughed at that one, and advised the young man to give biology a shot instead. (Newton had gotten very cross when he was promptly ignored, and in referencing the incident later, rather bitterly called the student an annoying little punk.)

This is to say nothing, of course, of the multiple news articles (listicles, as Newton calls them) Newton has forced him to read about himself on something called Buzzfeed, which have apparently helped to cement Hermann’s fifteen minutes of fame. One was called Twelve Times Dr. Hermann Gottlieb Was A Fashion Icon and was accompanied with a rather embarrassing array of candid photos of Hermann. Newton has been particularly incensed over that one.

“It is,” Newton says. “At least third. You know, I think the worst part is that you’re not even getting laid. Dudes are throwing themselves at you left and right—”

“Am I meant to go home with any random stranger who shows me the briefest bit of attention?” Hermann snaps. “I like to think I have somewhat higher standards than that.” I’m not like you, he nearly adds, but decides that it might perhaps be too cruel, especially considering that Newton has not gotten a fraction of the attention Hermann has over the past month. He remembers what it used to be like in the Shatterdome, is all; Newton seemed to like anyone who would give him the time of day. Most of his romances didn’t fare well for that reason.

“I’m just saying you could, and you’re not,” Newton says.

Hermann taps his finger against the pint glass, watching bubbles release from the side and rise to the top. When he finally takes a sip, it makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s not usually much for drinking. “I don’t like IPAs,” he says.

“I’ll take it,” Newton says, and the corner of his mouth hitches up in a grin, “as long as your boyfriend won’t get offended.”

Considering that Newton has only just finished following up his two shots with a cocktail, Hermann questions the decision, but slides him the glass anyway. Newton starts on it at once. Hermann wonders if he’ll need to call them a rideshare back to their hotel tonight; he’s not sure he can manage guiding a intoxicated Newton through the streets of the city on foot, especially not after a day that’s been rather unkind on his hip. “Only I suppose I have trouble believing it,” Hermann admits.

“Believing what?” Newton says.

“That they’re genuinely interested,” Hermann says.

To Hermann’s surprise, Newton snorts. “Nah, dude. You’ve got—” He taps Hermann’s chest, and leaves his hand there. “—sex appeal. You’ve got the, like, soulful eyes, and the movie star eyelashes, and the cheekbones and—” He drags his fingertip along Hermann’s jaw, and Hermann masks his sharp flinch in a cough, hoping Newton can’t feel his face heating up. He doesn’t remember if Newton has ever touched his face before. It feels shockingly intimate. “People think it’s super hot.” He takes another sip of Hermann’s drink. "Plus, you’re so—like—uptight. It makes people wonder what you’re bottling up.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “Bottling up?”

“In a sexy way,” Newton clarifies.

He settles his hand back on Hermann’s chest. Hermann licks his lips. Has Newton wondered those sorts of things about him, too? “You’ve had—too much to drink,” he says.

“A little bit,” Newton agrees. “I’m right, though. I like this shirt, by the way, it’s a nice cut on you.” He toys with one of the shirt’s buttons, and when he speaks again it’s in a low voice that makes Hermann’s mouth feel strangely dry. Hermann has never heard it from him before. “Wanna go back to the hotel and rent a movie or something?”

He’s peering at Hermann through his eyelashes, smiling in an odd little way. How terribly close they are to each other, Hermann realizes. He can count every tiny scratch in Newton’s eyeglasses, every fleck of gold in his eyes, every freckle on his cheeks. He wonders if Newton really wants to rent a movie; he wonders what Newton would do if Hermann closed the inch between them, and... “I,” Hermann stammers, gaze fixed on Newton’s mouth (stained pinker from his drink), “er, yes, only—only I feel as if I ought to thank the gentleman who sent me—”

At once, Newton drops away from him. His face hardens. His smile hardens, too. “Oh, right. I forgot,” he says. He inclines his head down the bar. “Pink shirt, right?”

Hermann casts his eyes about, searching for the pink-shirted stranger. When he doesn’t immediately spot him, a small bubble of relief swells within him. Perhaps he left, perhaps he decided he’s not interested in Hermann after all, perhaps Hermann is free to go back to the hotel with Newton and watch a film and argue about retirement and… “Oh, there,” Newton says. A man catches Hermann’s eye and waves timidly. He’s wearing a pink button-up.

“Bugger,” Hermann mutters. His admirer is not unattractive—in fact, he’s the opposite, with curly hair and glasses even thicker than Newton’s—which Newton seems to notice, too. He claps Hermann on the shoulder, hard enough that Hermann sways with it.

“He’s totally cute,” Newton says, “and he’s totally into you. You gotta at least get his number.” He takes another large sip of Hermann’s drink. “Better yet, get yourself laid. You could use it.”

Hermann feels the oddest sense of whiplash. Just a minute prior, he was about to kiss Newton (and he was pretty sure Newton was going to kiss him back), and now Newton is practically throwing him at another man. Hermann does not want to get anyone’s phone number—he wants to fall asleep in his stiff hotel bed to some absolutely awful science-fiction movie Newton picks out. “Newton,” he says, “weren’t we going to—?”

“No biggie, we can do movie night tomorrow instead,” Newton says. He nudges Hermann’s calf with the toe of his boot, and holds out his cane to him. Hermann feels his heart begin to sink. “I won’t wait up for you. Just give me a heads up if he wants to go back to our place, and I’ll make sure to stay out longer.”

“I’m sure it’ll only take a moment,” Hermann says. He’ll make sure it only takes a moment.

“No biggie,” Newton repeats. He raises his glass to Hermann in a mock toast. “Good luck!”

When Hermann looks back over his shoulder, halfway to the man in the pink shirt, it’s to see Newton’s stool vacant, and the back of Newton’s leather jacket swishing out the bar doors.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[betterlving]

skylight.

draw a line in my life. i fly 13 hours across the world curled into a plane seat watching the sun rise and set and rise again, like god is flicking a light switch on and off. i try not to cry as i look out the window and think about best friends, think about laughing together in the morning, at night, at dusk and dawn and always and forever. am i forgetting how it felt?

i don’t remember flying into seattle except the skyline. my heart always beats different on the west coast. my bag comes late, i stand in a security line for 40 minutes, i take three different trains, i pee after holding it for 15 hours. i run through an airport full of bearded hipsters wearing flannel on flights to alaska. i sit on the floor and eat salt and vinegar chips, i board a flight to portland. i haven’t spoken to another human being in over 15 hours. i wear a sweatshirt in the summer and i smell like sweat. yet i love traveling.

isn’t it lovely, i’ll never hold you. i land in portland and smile when i see my family again- the first time i’ve seen the three of them together in over 6 months. we drive through portland and it’s green, greener than i’ve seen in a while. there are bridges over rivers (there are moments of collapse) and the sky is blue, the weather tame- everyone on the streets is tattooed and doing something a hipster would do: drinking beer, walking a dog down the street, reading a book.

i think about los angeles and the never ending sunshine. the dirty streets with flat roofed buildings, about the winding coast and the fog that cools the air in the morning and burns off throughout the day. i think about the sunshine and smiling and blue skies, i think about traffic on the 405 and the 101 and the 5 and the 10. i don’t want to go home. i want to live among pine trees and palm trees where the world seems quieter, calmer, more in a state of peace. i don’t want to have to make another decision ever again and i think if i flew 5 hours every day i wouldn’t mind, i wouldn’t mind living in another dimension.

i think about san diego, about the buildings on the water, about my aunt’s small house in a neighborhood i’ve only visited twice but has always felt like home to me. why i love you enough to say it. sometimes i cry when i listen to certain songs not because they’re sad or because one minute and thirty eight seconds isn’t long enough- just because they remind me so much of the hot sand and the way my heart felt. i love you like it’s the old days- windows down driving north, santa cruz and then san francisco and inside jokes, laughter, the best days on earth. 

what do i have to be nervous for? i visited seattle once. my uncle who is only related to me by marriage has family that live on an island where they grow corn and drink root beer and talk to me like they’ve known me my whole life. i’m on my way, i’m wandering. there is something clear and definitive about the pacific northwest even though i’ve been twice, only in the summer, never in the grey. i don’t know how grey it really gets and though i’m a little too afraid to find out, i sort of want to test the waters.

suddenly i find i’ve got darkness on my mind. the winter bears down over me and this year was anger, this year was so angry. i was angry and i know that’s weak. there was so much longing for something i didn’t have and something that was so far away from me. i wasn’t living up to expectations and i was trying my best but at the end of the day i was a monster, screaming and yelling with no other ways to release my emotions but to be furious all the time. drowning out my sadness with anger. i didn’t want to be hopeless again, didn’t want to lie in bed all day and do nothing but i had hope, i had such big hopes for the future but the future was so far away. 

i smoked weed in the spring. left the door to my basement open and lit up outside, looking at the planes flying by overhead and the green branches tangling the wall. whatever you’re feeling is natural. i smiled more, i made it through to the summer. i flew to connecticut, slept in a hundred degree dorm, made friends, laughed harder than i have in a long time. whatever you’re feeling is alright. i tried not to cry when i left and flew back home, alone, not excited to see my family.

low light at dawn. i fly 13 hours across the world and get off a plane in a country where everything is written in characters that i can’t understand. i hug my best friend for the first time in two years and the next three weeks blend together too fast but they’re what i needed, there’s no way to say that they aren’t. we went to the beach one day. i stood in the water and thought about california all the way across the pacific, thought about the atlantic two hours away from my house, in virginia, not somewhere i think of as home. home is standing in the water in kamakura, in japan, with someone i love. i got this feeling like i’ll always love you. 

but it ends. days later, i drive over a bridge from oregon to washington while the sun sets purple pink orange and then indigo. i sit in the grass while a deer sits two feet away from me, sniffing curiously. mount hood is visible in the distance, the moon a thin white crescent in the sky. when everything turns black and the distance disappears, the stars shine overhead like they’re promising me i’ll be back soon. i haven’t seen the stars in months. leave your light on. 

#these r lyrics from the album skylight by pinegrove... soundtrack 2 my summer #im just missing the west coast & japan & summertime... #shut up lily #aug 29

[theartificialdane]

Galactica, part 254 (Final part)

A/N: Welcome to what is, for now, the final chapter of “main” Galactica - as everyone continues to celebrate Raja and Raven, ringing in 2016 in style. But don’t worry, we’ve got some Nebula ideas in the works, and we hope you’ll enjoy them! Thank you to everyone who is still reading along. We love you all every much!<3 Kisses from @veronicasanders and I!

Note: The song Courtney sings is Cree Summer’s “Revelation Sunshine” from the album ‘Street Faërie.’ Listen to it, it’s super cute.

Sutan released Karl’s face, his shorter friend staring up at him with wide eyes. “Happy New Year!” Sutan laughed. “God, I don’t understand how you can stand those fruity drinks. I know you’re gay, but your mouth tastes like a teenage girl.”

“... You kissed me?”

“It’s New Years.” Sutan took his beer, the two of them slightly away from the party. “At New Years, you kiss the people you care about, and you’re my best friend. Just don’t expect a repeat performance.” The two had been at the bar for most of the night, both easily and happily agreeing that they’re too old to ‘throw it down’ on the dance floor. “It’ll be over my dead body that I’ll ever be drunk enough for a repeat of 2003. Literally my dead body, I don’t think I could handle that much alcohol anymore. I’m a fragile old man.” Sutan laughed, and Karl wanted to join, but he couldn’t think straight. He and Sutan always slotted back together, like pieces of a puzzle, even when an ocean kept them apart, an ocean Karl had put between them on purpose.

Karl touched his lips, still looking at his friend.

“I-”

“There you are!”

Both looked up, the outburst a surprise, Karl’s eyes falling on Sutan’s girlfriend, Violet, wearing a stunning dress, and even if Karl felt his stomach twist, he couldn’t help but admit that she looked good.

“Violet!” Sutan smiled brightly. “Hello lovely eyes.”

“I-” Violet took a step forward. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I’m sorry I was mad. I’m sorry I- I know you’re probably disappointed, but Raven asked, and I didn’t want to, I couldn’t, and then, then yesterday happened and Courtney, and I, I- I didn’t know what to do or how you felt and-”

Sutan looked at her, and Karl felt like he watching a trainwreck happen in slow motion. Sutan was terrible with emotions, and from what he knew of the girl who somehow miraculously stayed by his best friend’s side, it wasn’t her strong suit either, the words falling from her lips like waterfall, rushing out, stumbling on top of each other.

“Let’s go.”

Violet shut up, her lips slamming shut, a whisper barely leaving her.

“Go?”

“To the balcony.” Sutan tipped his head slightly, pointing to the half open door, no one outside since everyone was getting ready for Courtney’s performance. “It seems like we need to talk.”

***

“I can’t feel my toes.”

“Awh, poor baby are you tired?” Katya smiled, dumping down next to her husband, his lips smeared with her lipstick from their midnight kiss, and Katya felt a thrill in her lower belly. Trixie was just about to talk, but Katya had already grabbed his face, gently running a thumb over his lower lip, Trixie freezing in place, his eyes wide as he looked at her. “God you’re gorgeous.” Katya gently pressed her finger into his mouth, Trixies plush lips giving way, his face held in his wife’s iron tight grip.

Trixie flushed, his cheeks going a delightful shade of bright pink, the man staring at his wife as if she had put him under a spell.

“Should we go upstairs?”

Trixie nodded, the moment broken as they both rushed towards the elevator.

***

Courtney took the microphone from the band who’d played the set after Adore and then turned to the crowd with a smile.

“Hey everyone. I promise, today I’m at the mic for an authorized reason. You don’t need to worry,” she said, earning a few chuckles. “So, Raven wanted to dedicate a song to Raja before the night was over, and while she’s still conscious enough to remember it. I /think/ we may have caught her, right?”

Raja giggled, nodding, and Raven called up to Courtney from their table.

“Just barely! Hurry up!”

“Okay well, with that said, on with it!”

As the music began, Courtney noticed Bianca gazing up at her. She tossed her a kiss, and Courtney smiled happily.

“Did you see, was I obvious? Could you tell? I did try to hide it…

“When I look I see you in me I don't want to fight it Shelter us from the storm It's so warm I get lost inside it...”

“Hey Bianca. She looks great up there,” said a breathy voice, clearly trying to sound more adult than she was.

Bianca turned, groaning inwardly when she saw Farrah standing next to her seat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who could destroy you?” Farrah asked, fluttering her lashes.

“What do you want, Farrah?” Bianca sighed.

“Well, my mother is a bit confused, because it’s been a few months and she hasn’t gotten any calls from Courtney’s manager. What’s going on?”

“I’m working on it,” Bianca replied through gritted teeth, then added, “cunt,” under her breath.

“What was that?” Farrah asked sweetly, leaning closer, hair brushing against Bianca’s cheek.

“Out of my mind, into yours Out of my mind, into yours…”

Courtney’s stomach lurched, seeing the pretty young blonde touching her girlfriend. Shit, “young” was an understatement. She wasn’t sure how old the girl was, but she knew that she played a high school student on television, so how old could she possibly be? To be honest, if Courtney really thought about, she was more disturbed than jealous.

“Bianca, it’s taking too long!” Farrah whined. “I need you to do better…” She flashed a mischievous grin, perching herself on Bianca’s lap. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise…”

“Please stop,” Bianca said, trying to push her off gently without making a scene.

“Love Love is Love is all Love is all around...us...”

“You don’t like me anymore?” Farrah simpered.

“You really need to knock it the fuck off. You have no idea how bad this would be, if-” Bianca gulped, teeth gritted. She could feel Courtney’s eyes on her and she didn’t know, at the moment, what made her more afraid. Farrah making good on her threats, or the wrath Courtney was sure to direct at her after she finished singing. “Just let me fucking handle it!”

“Love is all around us look Love is all around us look around...”

“Farrah, get off!” Bianca hissed, looking helplessly up at the stage.

“Love Love is Love is all Love is all around...us...”

***

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up.”

“You are, my emotional little wife!” Raven smiled brightly, wrapping her arms around Raja, swaying back and forth as Courtney finished her number, Raja crying almost silently, the emotions of the day finally overwhelming her. Raven could count the times she had seen Raja cry on two hands, her wife so stoic many would believe she was made of stone, but Raven knew better.

***

“Oh my GOD! Laila, you have to check out all this shrimp!”

“Pearl? Pearl, what are you doi- PEARL!” ***

“Love Love is Love is all Love is all around us look around...”

As the song ended, Courtney smiled tensely through the applause, raising a glass to congratulate the happy couple. She then climbed down from the stage, giving Bianca a venomous glare as she marched past their table and out of the ballroom.

“Ooh, she looks mad,” Farrah commented.

“Yeah, you really overplayed your hand, cupcake,” Bianca said, finally shoving the blonde off her lap and standing quickly to follow Courtney out of the room. “Courtney! Wait!”

She picked up the pace through the lobby, missing the elevator by seconds and then hitting the button repeatedly. When she finally caught up, Courtney was in their room, angrily shoving her things into her suitcase.

“Okay, I don’t know what you think you saw, but-”

“What I /think/ I saw?!”

“It wasn’t how it looked, I swear-”

“Oh really?!” Courtney asked. “Because it /looked/ like you had a teenager in your lap.” She brushed past Bianca and walked into the bathroom to gather up the rest of her belongings.

“Okay. Yes, technically that’s true, but I didn’t like it.”

Courtney scoffed, eyes rolling to the ceiling before sweeping the contents of the counter into her bag.

“And may I remind you that this is the same person who you’ve been talking up to me for weeks. So...what the actual fuck?!”

Bianca sighed as Courtney shoved past her again, now violently yanking clothes off the hangers.

“Okay, just, please listen for a second, because I need to-Courtney?”

Courtney stopped moving, looking at Bianca with watery eyes that made guilt swirl in her chest.

“Fine. Thirty seconds. Go ahead.”

“She’s blackmailing me.”

Courtney blinked a few times.

“I’m sorry...what?”

“She and her cunt mother, they want me to help her jump-start a pop career and...look, it’s so stupid, to be honest. But she’s gonna claim that I...took advantage of her. When she was 16. After this party in LA. So...so I got scared. Okay?”

Courtney paused for a moment before speaking, then said, as slowly and calmly as she possibly could, “I can’t believe I have to ask this, but-”

“Of course not!”

“Then, I don’t get it. Let her talk, slap her with a slander case.”

“Come on, Court, you and I both know that at that point the damage is already done. And besides, she’s an actress. She gives a very convincing performance.”

“Your reputation doesn’t help, either.” Courtney shook her head.

“Exactly. And...I mean, there may be some kind of...circumstantial evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?” Courtney’s eyes narrowed.

“Pictures of-well, I didn’t sleep with her. But we did kind of...kiss.”

“For fuck’s sake, Bianca!”

“I was drunk!”

“A 16 year old?!” Courtney exclaimed.

“In my defense-”

“Stop talking. You’re /gross./ I hope she does go public. You’ll deserve whatever you fucking get.”

Bianca sunk down onto the bed, shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry.”

Courtney began to pace around the room, growing even more agitated.

“So...let me get this straight. You actually wanted me to work with this psychotic child?!”

“Well. I hadn’t totally thought that part through,” Bianca admitted.

“Obviously.”

“Baby-” Bianca rose from the bed, moving toward her slowly.

“I just wanted /one/ night without all the bullshit, B! You know I have to fly to Miami tomorrow for that Housewives thing, and I’m performing the new set, and this is just too much!”

Bianca caught her by the wrists, eyes pleading.

“Please, angel, don’t go.”

Courtney closed her eyes briefly, swallowing.

“I have to get some sleep, away from you. I have to think-”

“Sleep here, baby. I promise I’ll show you how sorry I am.” Bianca pressed her lips to the inside of Courtney’s wrists.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, B,” Courtney said softly, pulling her hands away. “Not this time. Listen, I’m not...I just need to clear my head, okay? It’s actually good that I’ll be out of town for a few days. We can have some space, and I think...I think I really need that right now.”

Bianca nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“We’ll talk when I get back. Okay?” Courtney said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“Okay.”

Bianca couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her stomach as she watched Courtney exit. Like she’d somehow fucked up beyond her usual bullshit, and this time everything was riding on what she did next. She collapsed into an armchair, mind racing with thoughts of what exactly that should be.

***

“Come here.” Katya crooked her finger, Trixie eagerly obeying as he fell to all fours, her sweet boy naked, his cock red and hard. Trixie had been touching himself, Katya watching him as he whimpered and whined, her voice commanding him to speed up or slow down, the man completely under her control.

Katya spread her legs, Trixie crawling in between them, her hand grabbing his hair.

“Good boy.” Trixie shuddered, and Katya smiled as she pushed his head in between her legs, Trixie obeying her every tug. “That’s my good boy.”

***

“And that’s, that’s... It... I guess…” Violet felt burning hot, even though the January air was freezing cold, Sutan’s jacket around her shoulders, the man putting it on her the moment they had stepped outside, his crisp white shirt around his elbows. They were standing side by side as they looked out at the city, cars honking below, the only light coming from behind and from the cigarette in Sutan’s hand.

She couldn’t believe she had told him everything, couldn’t believe that she had opened up, that she had poured her childhood all over Sutan, telling him about her mother, about her school, about how she was bullied for never talking and the children's psychologists she had seen, her body almost throwing up as she had whispered the words selective mutism, her world almost fading as she was close to fainting, but Sutan had just stayed, had listened, his heat next to her.

She had told him how her mother had taken her to the doctor and tried to get benefits from having her stamped as mentally retarded, about her stepdad and how unsafe she had felt at home, how she ended up with her voice not only disappearing in school, but everywhere, her words and her self shrinking and shrinking and shrinking until there was close to nothing left.

She had talked about how she had started dancing, her body’s movement the only way she could express everything that she had inside, her pain, her anger, how scared she always was, and how she had whispered her fears into the soft fur of her ballet instructors pug, how it was the only place she had felt safe.

“I’m... I’m really sorry I didn’t do the spee-”

Violet felt a hand on her cheek, Sutan pulling her forward, his breath smelling of cigarettes, but then, then he kissed her, his lips soft against hers, her entire body melting.

“Never apologize.”

Violet looked at her boyfriend, afraid what she would find in his face, his brown eyes meeting hers.

“Never apologize for surviving, Violet.” Sutan leaned against Violet, their foreheads touching, Violet’s hand finding Sutan’s on top of hers, the two of them standing closely together

“I’m just happy you’re here.”

***

Fame turned away from Blue Dress Woman, whose name she still didn’t know, and took Patrick’s hand, leading him away, her cheeks burning red. She glanced up at him and saw him lightly chuckling.

“What are you laughing at?” Fame’s tone was pointed, but only because she was embarrassed. Seducing someone with her husband had seemed like so much fun and such a great idea, until she had struck out completely. God, she had totally forgotten how awful the meat market was, and she almost missed Pearl, the woman following her lead right from the first time they had met each other.

“I’m just...not used to seeing you strike out,” Patrick admitted with a twinkle in his eye. “Usually that’s more of my forte.”

“It wasn’t my fault! She clearly didn’t speak much English. And my Russian is...nonexistent.”

“It was cute when you tried French. Your persistence is admirable.”

“Shut up,” Fame retorted, laying a head on his shoulder and relaxing against his body.

“So...are you sad that it didn’t work out?”

“Hmmm?” Fame asked sleepily. “Nah...are you?”

Patrick kissed her temple.

“When I have you? Never.”

***

“You have the key!”

“Oh, shit, right, right.” Raven giggled, her and Raja both thumbling with their room key both they finally got the door open, Raven just about to take a step, when she felt a strong grip on her body.

“Raja-!”

Raja swept Raven up, a hand underneath her legs, another around her waist.

“What are you doing?!”

“Carrying my bride inside.” Raja smiled brightly, “God you’re heavy.”

“... Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m calling you perfect.”

***

Karl strolled into the restaurant for the wedding brunch, dark glasses covering his eyes, and winced at the noise. He was beyond hungover, but judging everyone else, he wasn’t anywhere near the only one.

“Ugh...fuck...children…”

Detox, who had just walked in as well, laughed. “Hey man, watch it.”

“No offense,” Karl added. “Yours are... Interesting.”

“None taken!” Juju chirped, showing up at her husband's side. “There’s a reason we left ours with a sitter. Hangovers plus toddlers are a bad combo.”

“Tell me about it,” Karl moaned, hating the noise from Raja and Raven’s loud, boisterous families.

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’re in the VIP section. I think it’ll be much more chill in there.” Detox steered him over to a private room to the left.

“Aren’t we a little old for a VIP section?” Karl asked. He quickly searched the area, his heart feeling heavy when he couldn’t spot his best friend. Sutan had just left yesterday, the man never coming back from the balcony after he went to talk with his girlfriend, so Karl had hooked up with a stranger, barely even remembering what room number they had been in when he slipped out that morning.

“If I ever get too old for the VIP section, I want to be taken out back and shot,” Detox answered.

“Bold of you to assume any bullets exists that can penetrate your silicone head,” Karl retorted, earning a snort from Juju, who quickly ditched them to head for the enormous buffet.

“Bar?” Detox asked.

“Duh,” answered Karl.

***

Adore skipped up to Bianca, twirling her mimosa.

“Morning B!” she sang, hugging her sister. “Where’s Courtney?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Bianca growled.

Adore let go, raising her eyebrows and backing away slowly, suppressing a laugh. She backed right into Jinkx, nearly knocking over her plate of pastries. Jinkx laughed as Adore snuggled against her shoulder.

“Hey li’l bear, what’s wrong?” Alaska drawled, the blonde’s face practically flawless even though Adore knew for a fact that she hadn’t gone to bed until long after four.

“Hold me,” Adore said, and Jinkx and Alaska both hugged her, peppering her cheeks with kisses.

***

Violet stood at the buffet, her and Sutan slipping in as one of the last, though Raja and Raven had thankfully been even further delayed. Her head was heavy, both from the alcohol of the day before and all the dancing she had done, everything that had happened, but also because of how Sutan had taken her back to their room, the man pulling her in and holding her, his hands between her legs and her mouth on him keeping them awake as they found each other again, Violet’s secret no longer taking up space in their relationship. They had woken up way too late, Sutan quickly slipping into jeans and a shirt, somehow looking amazing while Violet had rushed to get done, and still hated how she looked, her hair collected in a high ponytail, her makeup minimal, but thankfully even Fame looked relaxed.

Violet sighed, the breakfast table clearly ordered by Raven’s sweet tooth, the entire thing covered in rich, carb-fat-and-sugar-loaded options. The only thing she could imagine stomaching were the vegan options that were clearly for Courtney, even though the plates were suspiciously untouched when Violet was sure she had seen Bianca just moments before.

“Hey gorgeous.” Sutan asked, sliding an arm around her waist, the man smelling faintly of cigarettes and cold air, him and Karl disappearing outside the moment they made it down. “Anything good?”

“Not really...” Violet bit her lip, knowing that she came off beyond picky, but she couldn’t imagine anything less appealing than a chocolate croissant or a blueberry pancake right now.

“I’m sure you could ask the kitchen for a bowl of oatmeal.”

“You think?”

“No.” Sutan laughed, his own plate already piled high with the options.

“You’re terrible.”

“I love you too.”

Violet rolled her eyes, turning slightly to fall into Sutan’s side, the man twisting his head to kiss her. It felt strange to bitch about breakfast options when she had been crying her eyes out the night before, sharing things she had never told another human being, not even Milk, but yet, here they were, and somehow, it was the best thing she could imagine.

***

Hand in hand, Raja and Raven entered the room, greeting the cheering by bowing their heads and smiling.

“You’re late!” Sutan exclaimed, slapping Raja on the shoulder.

“Raven likes making an entrance,” Raja said, “Don’t you, princess?”

“Mhmm,” Raven agreed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Juju came up to kiss them both, looking her best friend up and down skeptically.

“God, Raven, you look like a fucking mess.”

“What?” Raven asked. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“... Did you just say ‘sorry’?”

“Yes, why?”

“Okay, who are you, and where the fuck is my best friend?” Juju laughed.

Raja took a sip of her coffee and with a smug expression, said, “She died right around the 3rd orgasm.”

Juju nodded. “Good to know marriage has already changed you. For the better, if this quiet docile thing sticks.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Eat a bag of dicks, Juju.”

“Awww, she’s back!” Juju said. “Good morning Raven Petruschin-Amrull, and welcome to the rest of your life.”

***

“Where’s Courtney?” Fame dumped down next to Bianca, her brunch plate in hand, more than ready to bitch to her best friend about the woman who got away the night before, sure that Bianca was more than interested in hearing about her terrible luck in the world of polyamorous hookups.

Bianca glared at her and downed her Bloody Mary in a single gulp.

Fame raised her eyebrows. “Alright then.”

“I see you judging me and I do not appreciate it, blondie,” Bianca said.

“Okay, so... Do you want to talk about this or?” Fame asked, tilting her head sympathetically.

“No.”

Fame turned to Patrick, smiling and raising her champagne glass to tell her husband she wanted a refill, and to keep him away from their table for a bit. Patrick took the hint with a barely detectable eye roll and headed for the bar.

“B...she loves you. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because...” Fame inched closer to her. “I mean, look at me and Patrick. We’re the happiest we’ve ever been.”

“Are you sure about that?” Bianca scoffed, clearly seeing right through Fame and her half full glass.

Fame smiled, not taking the bait. “Don’t worry, B. Things just...work out.”

“Sometimes they don’t, Fame. Sometimes you fuck up and lose people.”

“Well, then...you’ll still be okay.” Fame wrapped her arms around Bianca’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Bianca looked over at her, suppressing a smile.

“You’re dumb,” she said, leaning her head against Fame’s.

Fame giggled and snuggled closer. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Hey guys,” Raven said, back to her bright and bubbly self, sliding in beside Bianca. “Where’s Courtney?”

Fame held her breath at Bianca’s shoulder’s tensed up, hoping that she wouldn’t bite the bride’s head off.

“She, uh, had Bravo commitments. Told me to give everyone hugs and kisses. Although I think she knows that I’m not gonna do that,” Bianca said, flashing a forced smile.

“Thank god. I would probably pass out from shock,” Raven replied, giggling.

***

Raja dinged her glass with a spoon, standing up and clearing her throat.

“Hi everyone! I just wanted to say a little something because I’m so grateful that you’re here,” Raja began.

“Ugh,” Bianca grumbled, earning a cuff on the ear from Fame.

“Shh!”

Raja grinned and shot Fame a grateful wink, sticking her tongue out at Bianca for good measure.

“As I was saying. My extended family might be out there, people I am related to by blood, but in here, in here I have my real family. The family I choose, and I love all of you.”

“We love you too, Rajie!” Sutan called, arm slung over Violet’s shoulder as the brunette cuddled close to him.

“And having you in my life has been the greatest gift anyone could ask for-”

“Though we do also want actual presents,” Raven interjected.

“The greatest gift /either/ of us could ask for,” Raja repeated, putting a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “Your love, your support, your humor...has been the best part of my life.”

“Raja, Fame is fucking weeping,” Bianca said. “Can you wrap it up?”

“I just /love/ you so much,” Fame sobbed, burying her face in Bianca’s shoulder.

“Christ.”

“It’s mutual,” Raja said, and lifted her glass high in the air. ��To the best fucking friends anyone could ask for!”

Everyone raised their glasses along with her, toasting and cheering. Raja sank back down in her seat, a smile wide across her face as she linked her fingers with Raven’s, leaning over to kiss bride’s cheek.

Raven turned to her with a mischievous grin, kissing her back.

“Look how happy they are,” Fame sighed, her own fingers laced with Patrick’s on one side and Bianca’s on the other.

“Yeah. It’s gross,” Bianca said.

Fame laughed, shaking her head, heart as full as it had ever been as she looked around the room at her dearest friends.

#galactica #au aag verse #rpdr fanfiction #my fics

[sheusedtobesassier]

Day 10,785

172 days until I hit my thirties.

So. An assortment of 172 good memories from my twenties.

001. Addey hype mumbo jumbo singing along with Moana before she was really talking.

002. Being asked to say the big thank you at SOE graduation.

003. Isaac’s face when he peeked at Omar’s new shoes at the East Towne Starbucks.

004. Drinking Mike’s honey moonshine while we played Euchre in his starry cicada humming backyard.

005. Taking Mama on the water taxi rides when she visited me in Chicago.

006. Grandma Kathy calling me, “My pink haired granddaughter.”

007. Sneaking into camp with the Hines girls to write up collaboration glass bottle poems in the Prayer Chapel.

008. The slow and steady hike up to the Hollywood sign.

009. The night I kidnapped Mini Farm kittens to snuggle for a movie and accidentally left the gate open releasing the rest to the Wisconsin wild.

010. Sunday afternoon sipping Stella Artois in the perfect sunny front room of our Albany Park apartment.

011. Zoë giving me all her wallet cash so I could buy bare minimum groceries.

012. Taking turns reading The History of Love aloud in our Winter Staff Forest Springs apartment.

013. The Halloween/Hillside round of Murder in the Dark with All Stars only.

014. Acting a fool in the unfinished Lodge room filled from floor to ceiling with Tempur-Pedic mattresses.

015. Doug lounging in the giant crate of laundry bags in the laundry room.

016. GUBS INSIDE JOKES.

017. St. Patrick’s Day 2021, hahaha.

018.  Beyoncé: Lemonade in the empty downstairs apartment with Mary.

019. Accidentally getting kayak drunk from a backpack bottle of Ménage à Trois.

020. Daylight skinny dipping with Amber to inaugurate the new pool.

021. The perfect stray cat that came around the second half of 2018.

022. Renate being the first to cry with me post breakup. Bill supplying sparkling water to prevent dehydration.

023. Doing drag makeup in Bekah’s bathroom while her and Marissa giggled at each other in the tub.

024. Every kitchen island conversation I’ve ever had with Steve Hines.

025. The perfect colors the night we snuck up on the helicopter landing pad on that Dallas hotel.

026. FACILITATING THAT SAME WEEKEND’S GAME OF ASSASSIN, BEFORE IT GOT UGLY.

027. Becoming buddies with all four Williams brothers.

028. When Mercy told me I’m her favorite Williams brother.

029. Hahaha the Camp Clean Up I put Elliot on my crew for my own amusement and told him his only responsibility was to walk around with me the whole time.

030. The time Blaine and I were avoiding the long lunch line together and Nimanim was like, “Wait so this is like an actual friendship huh?”

031. Tanner enthusiastically reenacting Gandalf’s YOU SHALL NOT PASS as I came up the path.

032. Will realizing I’d Facebook stalked him without sending a friend request.

033. Magically finding Pop Rocks the morning of my perfect 22nd birthday.

034. My perfect 26th birthday weekend in Minneapolis with my dreamy local girl gang.

035. Tauri’s blossoms on the Sky Lodge trees in the spring.

036. Encountering and becoming completely enthralled by the Enneagram.

037. OLIVIA FUCKING GATWOOD APPRECIATING MY PINK HAIR.

038. Clementine von Radic writing that Greyhound always loses her luggage too.

039. My stretch of obsession with Hemingway’s love interests.

040. Becoming friends with Fat Boy Tucker pup.

041. Becoming friends with rescued best dog Star girl.

042. The night Doug was my ride from the airport and he pulled his truck over so we could take a good look at the gigantic moon.

043. That hilarious flirtatious moonlight wander of the horse trails with Omar and Edith and Caleb.

044. Jake Nelson giving me a surprise scoop of chocolate custard as a peace offering after his grumpy bedtime attitude.

045. THE DISCOVERY AND CAPTIVATION OF HADESTOWN.

046. Getting to have Alia in every day for a while there.

047. Les Mis at Overture Center because Ally bought our family tickets.

048. Pat Coakley telling me I don’t know how special I am.

049. Spit handshake with Janelle swearing we’ll never think any boys are cooler than we are.

050. Marissa picking me up without explanation to take us on a quiet sunset drive of her favorite county road.

051. Jayden imagination playing with Blue, Guy, and a motorcycle for a whole night then waking me up with them the next morning.

052. Genevieve asking to borrow my lavender romper for her rehearsal dinner.

053. Getting to be Cali’s sidekick the week leading up to her wedding extravaganza.

054. Houston YMCA hallway phone call from Justin’s dorm room asking me clarify which of the boys was Nick, Schmidt, and Winston.

055. The absolutely ludicrous old woman I got drunk with in the Amtrak dining car.

056. The absolute ludicrous glass skull light up cocktail I drank at Freehand’s hotel bar.

057. When Dan Hartke told me I’m a mother hen.

058. When the most beautiful Sora from Korea told me, “You always flowers.”

059. Hannah’s hand me down Steve Madden sandals.

060. Runaway trips with Amber Bamber to watch Shakespeare in the woods.

061. Storytelling with Jack Thomas.

062. Drunk bar darts after Corn Fest with Marissa’s gang.

063. Leaving the reception with Emmy to go curl up in Amber’s bed and giggle about how it was the last place she slept as a virgin.

064. The night Riana and Zoe and I took turns putting our heads out the car windows to howl like wolves.

065. Falling asleep on the couch with Zelina and Chelle beer buzzed watching Jersey Shore.

066. That perfect little basement Thai place a couple blocks from Emmy’s apartment dorm.

067. When Dan forced me to get out of his car and left because I’d annoyed him too hard on our library trip.

068. Vicki suggesting we go live together overseas.

069. Depop photoshoot with Taurilyn.

070. Mykenza bluntly declaring true things I couldn’t confirm or deny.

071. Norm announcing to the full room he was teaching that I was a rascal.

072. Zochella.

073. Noah Gundersen and Brett Dennen at The Majestic.

074. Every damn time we ate beautiful food at High Rock Cafe.

075. The nights I felt capable at TOCHI.

076. LENA DUNHAM’S GIRLS.

077. Jordan suddenly ballroom dancing Genevieve around the kitchen.

078. Staying up late crying to my mom about trying to take good care of the lesbian teenagers at Sky Lodge.

079. The night Caleb very suddenly showed up with a bowl of sangria then tried to leave a dozen times but we convinced him to stay.

080. Rachel swearing that the man in the Wrigleyville bookshop had love at first sighted me.

081. Making the list of how many musicals I’ve been affected by.

082. Discovering weirdo La Llamada then driving straight to Carlsons’s to immediately watch it again with them.

083. Writing heartfelt correspondence back and forth with Kat for a few years.

084. All the funky cards I’ve received from Amber.

085. Finding that PERFECT dress at Goodwill for Tauri’s Winter Ball.

086. An actual friendship with Paul Bierdeman.

087. COUNSELOR MEETINGS.

088. The night Emily Holverson and I stood outside the Lodge trading sincerity about Sky Lodge and the complications of ministry.

089. Blunt conversations with Josiah, hahaha.

090. The Lower Lakeview round of Murder in the Dark when I killed every single person playing before anyone could call, “Dead body!”

091. When I suddenly caught him listening to my singing in the tunnel.

092. Putting together outfits from Lolita’s wardrobe.

093. Driving into such an unexpectedly lush part of Missouri.

094. A nighttime surprise of Big Ben and The London Eye and Buckingham Palace and St James Park in the falling snow.

095. MY PERFECT ABODE IN ST. LOUIS, MO.

096. OUR PERFECT ABODE IN ALBUQUERQUE, NM.

097. Becoming one of Steve’s best friends.

098. The evening Elorine and I didn’t go with and REALLY talked.

099. THE UNDENIABLE INHERENT GOODNESS OF MERRY’S KIDS.

100. Farrell’s crying apology on the sidewalk outside of Maple.

101. Alex’s irregular sudden extreme compliments.

102. The females I’m close with over the internet due to mutual admiration.

103. Lars from Hinge, hahaha.

104. Sitting at the end of a long table with Janelle making a napkin list of our all time favorite manic pixie dream girls.

105. The handful of LotR marathons we’ve accomplished.

106. When Kat told me she understood the Harry Styles crush but that maybe he wasn’t right for me.

107. Reading so many Donald Miller books and getting others to read them too.

108. Kisses on the cheek from Esther.

109. Getting raspberries for Mike’s turtles as an apology for making death threats.

110. Tipsy dancing alone with my eyes closed for like a hundred songs at Sheryl’s Club on New Years 2021.

111. The flattering comparison to the wonderful Harley Duke.

112. Aw omg, our happy hammock stacks at Observatory Hill. 

113. Telling slumber party stories on stage for Women’s Retreat.

114. BEING THE MIME FOR LIFE GROUP’S FAVORITE.

115. Fatigued watching The Kissing Booth and laughing harder than ever.

116. Spastic goofing around with Ashley AND Brittany the day we moved Amber into her new home.

117. Sitting on my closet floor showing crying Riana baby videos of singing piano playing Janelle.

118. Giggle running through Piggly Wiggly parking lot at closing with Rene with like $400 of alcohol on Ally’s birthday.

119. Fireball shots ALL NIGHT with Jeremiah and his uncle on Christmas Eve.

120. Listening to the delicious details of Emmy’s Europe romance.

121. Zion giving me his Adidas crewneck as sentimental goodbye gift.

122. Arguing with Austin over our differing zombie apocalypse ideologies.

123. Drunk Discord/Among Us with Hunter and Bekah and Nick and Marissa.

124. How soft Kenny’s absurd speeches made my heart.

125. MINUTE LONG VOICE MEMOS STACKS WITH ROSIE. ♡♡

126. Listening to Lizzy McAlpine in an afternoon candlelight bath.

127. Listening through John Mayer’s The Search for Everything mowing the ball field.

128. Emotionally painting my old house in Birmingham.

129. Being really damn good at that Heads Up game with Omar.

130. Compiling worthwhile stuff for Foreman training.

131. GROWING MY PLANTS.

132. The stretch when Bryanna was usually wrapped in my blanket.

133. Talking about going to Colorado with Alex.

134. The notorious reputation of knowing everybody at CCCA.

135. GETTING ALL DRESSED UP FOR DINNER THEATER.

136. Calling Ally from a parking lot at Emmy’s bachelorette party because I was SO CONFIDENT I was a hot person that I had to talk to her about it.

137. Playing the stupidest laughingest game of The Floor Is Lava with Jackson when I came to visit them all in Dallas.

138. Feeling really really really at home in my apartment at Sky Lodge.

139. How Ryan Boon would struggle to talk through his laughter.

140. Belonging to myself at Fiddleheads Coffee in Cedarburg.

141. THE UNDENIABLE IMMEDIATE CHEMISTRY BETWEEN ME AND COURTNEY HART.

142. Big Falls County Park. Every time.

143. Kayaking down Blue River with Duke, Jeremiah and Addey, Hunter, and Hunter’s friend.

144. That perfect burger at Pier Burger in Santa Monica.

145. Riding The Brown Line down to The Loop and all the way back up.

146. Aw. Welp. Every lengthy truthful phone call with Sam.

147. The four seasons I was compiling four second videos.

148. Ashley’s and my perfect roommates stretch, featuring our perfect couch.

149. The night we forced so many to come to our Blackfish showing then sign our petition opposing Sea World. Hahaha. #emptythetanks

150. The night Ben and I sat in the corner giddy burning through TriBond cards.

151. The night I showed up at Doug’s and Lueck’s door losing my damn mind over The Dress.

152. Community Soccer at the local elementary school gym.

153. Frigid stranded in the Chequamegon National Forest with Mary and Caleb on our return drive from our nightmare trip to Duluth.

154. The final night of being “cats in a bag” sleeping in Janelle’s bottom bunk.

155. Filling up the broomball courts under a negative degrees meteor shower.

156. Getting another wonderful summertime of Delala.

157. The Sunday service the pastor wouldn’t quit snapping his fingers and a bunch of us were txting each other like, “OMFG NO AHHH HOW DO WE MAKE HIM STOP????”

158. Oomph. The perfect veggie omelette (no cheese) at Sparks.

159. Dad’s soft voicemail about his admiration for Adele.

160. Their neighbor lady Maddie’s outfit for the Christmas cantata and her disappointment with the unfamiliar song selection.

161. Raquel’s completely irresistible fun streak.

162. Listening to folklore with Jayden and the girlies first thing when I woke up every morning for a while there.

163. Going through Met Gala looks cuddled up with Omar.

164. The way it felt reading Anthropology of an American Girl.

165. The giant primary colors crochet blanket mom made for me.

166. Noah scooping me up in that hug in the Waterloo parsonage kitchen.

167. When Omar completely surprised me with what he can do to a piano.

168. Deciding I am a Pinot Grigio girl.

169. Omfg, the Nest Night we intensely debated our way through a Staff Wives wrestling bracket.

170. Dismantling multiple purity talks and dress codes like it’s my calling.

171. Laying on blankets in the middle of many fields in different places for the sake of being very very very very sunkissed.

172. Regularly running into Bill at Kwik Trip.

#personal

[wandering-thoughts-lost-voice]

Under Mechanical Hearts

Chapter 3.0

Last Night...

"Who throws a party for someone who died?" I muttered to myself. I was sitting on a couch on the roof of that said party with a sprite in my hand and yes you read that correctly. Some people were rich enough to have patios on their roof while I struggled to find enough quarters in my wallet to buy a bag of chips from the vending machine at school. Anyway, back to me being at the party I was complaining about, hypocritical I know, but it was either this or having my thoughts torture me all night. I mean, the deceased was my best friend.

"Leave it to you to find a hideout," Dylan joined me on the couch, a fresh smile on his lips. "I was starting to think you went home."

"Trust me I thought about it," I sighed, "But this beats the alternative."

"Yeah..." he trailed off before things fell completely silent between us. Childish Gambino's 3005 filled the heavy quietness. I'll be right by your side till 3005, hold up. There was never a day I thought this song could bring me such gloom, but it did.

"Why did you throw this party?" I slouched down on the couch, making myself more comfortable. I could never keep my cool around Dylan for long, I liked to think that making my heart do summersaults was his superpower. "Doesn't seem like something you'd do."

Mirroring my actions, he slouched down too, "I didn't plan any of this, it was Nora."

I rolled my eyes, "Nice to know she's empathetic."

I could see him shrug from the corner of my eye while he brushed his hand forward over his hair. "She said it was to celebrate Maci's life."

"Are you sure it wasn't just an excuse to get wasted on a school night?" I turned to look at him. "Does she even know how Maci died? She was heading home from a party just like this one."

"Nora has good intentions," he defended her. "I've been doing pretty bad lately and she just wanted to cheer me up."

"Okay, but do you think this is what Maci would want?" I countered.

"I don't know what Maci would want and neither do you," his eyes found mine. Sounding annoyed he told me, "It makes no difference anyway because she's not here."

I rested my laced fingers on my stomach, changing my focus to the stars above, I said, "You're right."

"I'm sorry," he exhaled. "I didn't mean to--"

"No, you're right," I cut him off. "I obviously didn't know what she wanted if I didn't see her suicide coming."

"Reese," he called my name. "No one saw it coming. Not my parents, not me, no one."

"But I was her best friend, Dylan," I sat up, peering over at him. "We told each other literally everything." I could feel my heart hurting with each beat, "She never said she was unhappy, but I should've known, I--I should've been there to stop her." The calm before the storm passed and eventually, I felt it. I heard my mouth thunder with sobs, my heart lightninged with pain, my eyes rained. "I messed up. I--"

"You didn't mess up," concern twisted his mouth into a frown. "There was no way you could've known," he inched closer to me, wrapping me in his arms while his voice softened, "I may not know if Maci wanted this party or not, but I know she wouldn't want her best friend crying her eyes out."

Eventually, he released me from the hug and examined my eyes. "I know it's hard, but you're not alone," he wiped my tears with the long sleeve of his shirt. His eyes stayed locked on me for a while as he searched my face for any more signs of sorrow. Meeting my eyes again, he smiled weakly, but it disappeared just as it came. I could feel myself holding my breath because things suddenly felt monumental between us.

Gently, Dylan's hand rose to my cheek. Fall was already here, and even though there was a chill in the air I was burning up. Gazing into his eyes, I noticed that there was a void behind them, a void created by Maci's absence. My heart broke all over again in that moment because the last time I saw Dylan cry was at Maci's funeral about a year ago. I wondered how he coped with things, how he went home and passed Maci's room every day without falling apart. I lost my best friend, but he lost his little sister.

A fresh tear escaped down my cheek, but Dylan brushed it away with his thumb immediately. Leaning closer, he shut his eyes and I followed his lead until our lips met. The kiss was light and brief, a simple graze of his lips against mine, but the feelings it stirred up was immense.

He broke away for a moment, registering the huge act. Then, he plunged towards me, kissing me with more force. Holding onto the collar of his shirt, I kissed him back. His hands found their way to my hair, and my heart found its way to its grave. I only imagined what it would be like to kiss Dylan Russell, but I never thought it could actually happen.

Maybe because Maci was 100% against it. Guilt began to tug at my conscience at the thought and even though I didn't want to, I had to back out.

"Dylan," I breathed his name, my eyes were still closed, our foreheads resting against each other. "Wait." He planted a few more soft kisses before he finally pulled away. I felt terrible for ending one of my childhood dreams, but I couldn't sit there and kiss my best friend's brother. It was selfish and wrong on so many levels. Just because she was dead didn't mean Girl Code died along with her. "As much as I--"

"Dylan?" I heard a voice call from the double doors behind us. "Dylan? Where are you?"

I noticed Dylan move back to the other side of the couch, yanking the collar of his shirt back and forth to cool down.

"Dylan!" A very drunk Nora shouted when she found us. "I've been looking for you like everywhere!" She climbed over the couch clumsily falling into the empty spot between us. I cleared my throat as she rested her feet on v my lap. Squinting her eyes, she studied me until she realized who I was, "Reesie Peesie!" She shoved her red cup of beer into the air, "To Maci!" Dropping the drink all over my boots, Nora passed out with her head on Dylan's shoulder.

"Reese..." Dylan trailed off. I had that uncomfortable feeling of stepping in something wet with my socks on and moving my toes around in my beer-soaked black ankle boots made it worse. Standing to my feet, I shook my head at Dylan who sat there frozen. "Hold on," he gently lifted Nora's head to free himself.

I, however, was already on my way back inside.

"What are you still doing here?" Fabian questioned as he snapped a few pictures of me. He was casually hanging out in the hallway, "I thought you went home."

"Can you move out of my way?" I bumped my shoulder against his.

"What's your problem?" He followed behind me taking more pictures. "Who pissed in your cereal this time? Couldn't have been me, I barely saw you tonight."

I turned around, grabbing the lens of his camera, "I will drop this to the floor and stomp on it."

"Well, I hope you can cough up thirty-five hundred," he smirked, taking another picture, "and that doesn't even include the lens."

Rolling my eyes, I began to push through the crowd to find the bathroom. It was almost 2 in the morning and people were still bumping and grinding to the music like half of them didn't have exams to take in the next couple of hours. The second-floor bathroom had no line and even though it seemed suspicious I took a chance and opened the door. Covering my nose from the acrid smell, I slammed the door shut right away. I probably should've covered my eyes too because it was never a pleasant sight to see someone's vomit spewed all over the sink and toilet.

"Oh yeah, don't go in there," I heard Fabian's voice. "Someone's stomach exploded."

"Thanks," I clenched my jaw, walking away from him and down the stairs. The line for the first-floor bathroom was looking horrendous and I was contemplating whether or not I should just go home.

"I know where there's another bathroom," Fabian's annoying voice was in my ear. "But that's only if you promise to be nice."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I folded my arms.

"Because I've been here a few times," he shrugged. "Who do you think takes Nora's bomb-ass Instagram pictures?"

"Fine," I caved. I was frustrated with having him follow me around, but if I got to the bathroom, hopefully, I could save my boots and be on my way out, never having to run into him again for the night, "Show me."

Finally making it to a bathroom in a part of the house that was deemed off limits, I washed off my boots with soap and water. I was hoping that if it didn't get rid of the beer smell, it would at least reduce it. I dried them as best as I could and removed my socks before placing them on my feet again.

When I exited the bathroom, I found Fabian taking a selfie with a statue in the hallway. I walked past him as I tried to return to the side of the house with loud pulsing music. I could hear his footsteps behind me as I walked down the long hallway, "You miss her, right?" He broke the quietness.

"Yeah," I replied, softly.

"Me too," he said. "I thought of her as a big sister, y'know? I can't believe it's almost been a year already."

"Can we not do this?" I turned to face him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Do what?" He furrowed his brow.

"Have this heart-to-heart about Maci," I answered, " and how much we miss her and wish she was still here."

"Sorry, I--I thought you'd wanna talk about it considering she was your best friend and all," he responded. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Thank you," I about-faced and began walking again.

"Y'know there was this one time--"

"Fabian," I warned him.

"Oh, you meant like no talking at all," he said. "Gotcha."

#wandering-thoughts-lost-voice #creative writing