"Hello everyone. I'm sure most of you know me but I'm Sam Seaborn, best man at tomorrow's festivities." I chuckle to myself as there's a round of applause and some cheering, our guests obviously a few drinks in at this point. "I don't want to say too much tonight and spoil my toast for tomorrow, but I do need to say all of us—the wedding party, I mean—are so excited to be here. Josh and Donna were a long time coming, and we've all watched them fall in love over the years. We've watched them grow and learn and fall apart and fall together, and tomorrow, they're promising to love each other for the rest of their lives." He pauses to clear his throat, suddenly looking choked, and Donna grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers.
CJ stands up, giving Sam a playfully disgusted look. "Most of us up here have known the two of them for a long time." She pauses, smiling fondly at Sam and Toby, and raising her glass to Lou. "And some of us have known them for a shorter time, but in an entirely different way." Annabeth and Helen nod in agreement, raising their own glasses for a moment in solidarity. "But I think we can all agree on two things. One; Josh and Donna are pretty perfect for each other, and two; it's about damn time." The room bursts into laughter, my mother clapping her hands the hardest as she gives me a pointed look. I just shake my head. If it'd been up to my mother, Donna and I would have gotten married not long after we first met and in hindsight…we definitely should have.
"We know it's been a long evening," Sam chimes in, "and I'm sure it's been a long week for Josh and Donna and they're probably both ready to just be married." Donna nods her head, nestling in against my side. I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulders, holding her close. "Tomorrow's going to be fun and wonderful and a blur and probably nothing like they're expecting so—"
"So we wanted to find some cheesy way to embarrass them," CJ cuts in, grinning at us evilly. "Since it'll probably be frowned upon tomorrow while we're at their fancy wedding, we thought their rehearsal dinner would be the ideal moment."
"Leave me out of this," Toby says, giving his scotch glass a swirl. "I wanted nothing to do with this."
"Killjoy," Annabeth teases, and I stifle a groan, turning my face into Donna's hair.
"Oh, God. What are they going to do to us?"
"So," CJ continues, "we all pooled our resources, we talked to their parents and their families, we scoured the archives, and with the help of my husband and his uncanny ability to make a slideshow—" she pauses again as Danny stands halfway, waving his hand regally, "we've made a little something for the almost-newlyweds. We all agree that it's suitably over-the-top and silly, and should be entertaining for us all. Maestro, if you will."
I only have a few seconds to wonder who she's talking to when the lights dim and large projector screen is pulled down. A message pops up—Josh & Donna, February 21, 2009—and music starts to play. Another screen comes up, this one says, Our Humble Beginnings and I recognize the song. For Once In My Life. My baby picture pops up on the screen and I groan as the room around me bursts in to laughter, punctuated by the occasional "awww." I shoot my mother an accusatory glance but she's studiously ignoring me, her eyes glued to the screen. Naturally, Donna's baby picture shows up after that, making her cringe as well. We're then treated to an assortment of pictures from our youth—terrible haircuts, ridiculous Halloween costumes, school pictures, pictures of Donna in her band uniform and plenty of me from the two years I swore I was going to be a professional athlete and played every sport I could.
It's quite humiliating, and I'm just glad the President had to leave early and didn't get to see this. Though, judging by the smirk on Helen's face, she'll be finding a way to get this to him.
Oy.
Mercifully, there are only a few pictures of us from our college years—and most of mine are of me studying—and we're all treated to pictures of me running around like a madman as I first start to get my feet wet in politics, but then the real stuff starts.
Suddenly, we're seeing a slew of pictures I didn't know existed. My breath catches in my throat as a picture of me and Donna hard at work on the first campaign slides into place. My God, she was so young. I squeeze my arm around her shoulders reflexively. Apparently, there are all sorts of pictures of us from the first Bartlet campaign; I had no idea. Granted, we're not the focus of a lot of them but we're in the background of plenty, usually with our heads together as we go over something that looks very important, or arguing over something, or, as it turns out, giving each other what seems to be longing looks. There are pictures of us using each other as pillows on buses and the occasional plane, and there are a lot of pictures where I have my arm fairly possessively around her waist.
And all of this is from more than ten years ago. How the hell did I live in denial for as long as I did when it's pretty obvious that I've been crazy about Donna for about as long as I've known her? I'd say the feeling was fairly mutual, but it's definitely written all over my face.
I hear sniffling and look around, surprised to see that a lot of people seem to be dabbing at their faces. Though, I'm not shocked to see that my mother seems to be the worst offender. She'd hardly met Donna in person when she started telling me I should marry her, so I guess seeing for herself that I was completely smitten from the beginning and could have been with this woman for a decade now can be pretty emotional.
Donna squeezes my knee, but her eyes are locked on the screen. I can't believe she didn't see the way I looked at her back then.
The pictures roll on, showing all of us victory parties where Donna and I constantly had our arms wrapped around each other or sharing a glass of champagne, the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners the entire lot of us crammed into my apartment for during the transition into office, Donna and I dancing way too close for boss and assistant at the inaugural balls. The pictures from our time in the White House are fewer and farther between when most of us didn't know if we should take pictures there or even had the time to think about it, but we're still in the background of an awful lot of professional pictures from various functions. Even the ones she didn't attend, she was always nearby if I needed her…and it seems that I always needed her.
"Did you know about this?" I whisper to Donna.
"Not a clue," she answers. "This is amazing."
That it is.
The music shifts, this time to something I definitely don't recognize nor do I waste too much time trying to figure it out. There's another caption on the screen—Finding Our Way —and there are pictures of me working on the Santos campaign, Donna working on the Russell campaign, and the times we'd interact, and since we were both fairly visible at that time, we're definitely the focus of these pictures. It's so weird to me that anyone would have captured any of these moments between us—these nothing, inconsequential moments—and then also held onto them, and then our friends were able to track these people down and get copies of them. All in all, it's pretty impressive.
The stuff from the Santos campaign is what really captures my attention, though, because our body language tells the entire story of what's going on between us. Even though we're standing side by side in some of them, it's obvious we're trying to not be aware of each other, and we look like we want to be anywhere but near the other. That stuff's hard to see. It shifts pretty quickly, though, and I even remember that part—we gravitated back to each other within a couple of weeks. How could we not? We knew each other better than anyone else, and she's always been my sounding board. The difference on this campaign was her demeanor. She wasn't the young woman who'd picked up everything and moved across the country; she was a seasoned campaign veteran, someone who didn't need me to explain the ins and outs of politics to her, someone who'd gone through hell and still wanted to make the world a better place.
Pictures of us with our heads together as we work on something, off in our own private corner as we try to solve the problems of the world become more frequent. Pictures show up from Ellie's wedding, and I'm momentarily shocked; I'd forgotten just how hot Donna looked that day. I want to reach through time and grab my slightly younger self and smack him around. Donna was into me that day. She might have been into me other days but she was not at all interested in hiding it at that particular moment. Granted, there was a lot happening at that time, not the least of which was me desperately trying to hold onto my job, but just seeing pictures of her in that dress makes it all come flooding back to me. She was flirting with me. We could have been together then if I'd just taken my head out of my ass for a few seconds.
There's suddenly a picture of me making the most ridiculous puppy eyes at her from across the room and I groan in embarrassment. I know when this is—it's just after I kissed her for the first time. Donna looks completely cool and collected, as if kissing her former boss before dawn in a hotel room wasn't at all out of the ordinary. I have my heart on my sleeve, looking at her as if I'm seeing her for the first time. I guess, in a way, I was. I had no idea before then that kissing her was going to feel the way it does. I didn't know she would feel like home. I didn't know kissing her would change the way I thought about everything. Though, for as unaffected as she seems in the pictures, she's the one who tried to pass me her hotel key, so I guess those theatre classes when she was in college the first time paid off.
There are plenty of pictures from election night two years ago, which bring back a whole flood of memories, a lot of them tinged with sadness over losing Leo at the same time so many amazing things were happening. Hell, that was the first time Donna and I slept together. It was kind of a big deal. It seems, however, that after we found out we won, I did nothing but hug her for most of the night. Actually, it looks like she's the only thing keeping me upright, and that was probably true. I can't speak for anyone else, but I can feel the intensity of the emotions in those shots.
There's another music shift and a new slide that says You Fill Up My Senses. I'm completely blaming Sam for these titles. He's the most hopelessly romantic person I know and it completely tracks that he would be in charge of this level of schmaltz. The fact that he's spot on isn't something that I want to address, even to myself.
After that, of course, we move into mostly familiar territory, with pictures of our trip to Hawaii causing most of the people around us make strange little contented noises. There are some pictures our parents took when they visited during the holidays that year, and of course pictures from the inauguration in January. Oddly enough, we still look a bit like we're trying to pretend there's not much happening between us, and a couple of years has given me some perspective—we weren't fooling anyone. Even if we weren't taking out ads in the newspaper, there was no way to hide that things between us had changed. We're still frequently off to the side, looking like we're plotting something, but there's a different sort of intimacy to it. I'm still making goo-goo eyes at her, though. It's fairly pathetic.
That look on my face seems to be a trend in any picture going forward. There are pictures of us in Wisconsin and Florida, on our day trips to vineyards and breweries, pictures of us at CJ's wedding, at Sam's wedding, on our trip to Europe last summer, pictures of us at various work functions and events, and I'm consistently looking at her as if she hung the moon. I openly adore her. My arms are always around her and I'm always grinning from ear to ear. Seeing our relationship through this perspective gives me a lot of insight, and even though I'm already incredibly ashamed of how I treated her the last couple of months, this makes me feel even more so. Being able to see the way we look at each other makes me realize that we're going to make it. It doesn't matter how much we struggle, what we have is the real deal. It's forever. We've put in a lot of work over the last decade and I don't think that'll ever stop.
And all of this wouldn't be complete without the engagement pictures our parents made us take when we were in Wisconsin for Thanksgiving. I didn't understand why they thought pictures were necessary considering we'd already been engaged for almost three months, it'd been in a couple of DC society pages so we'd definitely been "announced," and our wedding was less than three months away at that point. I'll admit, the pictures turned out nice, despite the fact that the photographer wanted to do something "natural" so he had us in the woods behind Donna's parents' house without jackets—though fortunately with clothes, so it wasn't as "natural" as I immediately assumed—and we were nearly frozen by the end of it—and we liked the photographer enough to actually hire him for the wedding to go along with the gaggle of official White House photographers. They felt unnecessary at the time but seeing the pictures now, especially in this context, makes them feel…poignant.
The last picture is from this past New Year's Eve, which was probably one of the last times we were together before I went off the rails. We were at some excessively fancy party in formal wear. From the look of things, midnight was approaching or had just arrived. Either way, we're clearly lost in our own little world, foreheads pressed together, smiles on our faces, my arms around her waist, her fingers gripping my bicep—naturally, her left hand is the one in the picture, so the engagement ring is twinkling, caught in the camera's flash as if we planned it.
One last slide comes up; I can't wait for the rest of my life. That sounds like something overly sentimental and romantic we might say to each other. It actually sounds like something one or both of us have probably said without thinking. I take a few deep breaths as the lights come up, hoping I don't look like an emotional mess after that. Donna looks up at me, smiling, her eyes a little red and watery.
"Our friends are ridiculous," she whispers.
"Definitely," I answer, cupping her cheek and pulling her to me. I do my best to ignore the catcalls and whistles as I kiss her, but give it up after a few moments.
"Save it for the honeymoon!" someone yells, making everyone laugh.
Someone else taps on a glass and we all look up, Sam standing up again as he tries to get everyone's attention. "Thank you for indulging us in this tonight. We know that it probably embarrassed the hell out of you two and, well, that was the point." Everyone laughs again. "I know everyone's having a good time but we don't have this place booked for much longer so it's time to say goodnight."
"Plus," CJ adds hastily, "tomorrow's kind of a big day for a couple of people here, so we should let them get some sleep. We'll see everyone tomorrow!"
Donna and I barely stand up before everyone's swarming around us to give us hugs and shake hands. Mercifully, the crowd tonight is significantly smaller than what we'll have tomorrow, but it still takes a lot of time to talk to everyone who insists on talking to us now.
Donna gets pulled away suddenly, and I can see her being led off by Carol and Margaret, her blonde hair disappearing before I can react. I gather her purse and our coats and try to figure out where she went and nearly run headfirst into CJ.
Even though she got in on Wednesday, I haven't spent any time with her on my own. After talking to her on the phone a couple of weeks ago, I wasn't sure if she wanted to have anything to do with me, and I was positive I didn't want her to yell at me again. We both watch each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.
Finally, though, her cheek quirks up, giving me a half-smile. "That purse really brings out the color in your eyes."
I hold it next to my face and bat my eyelashes, making her laugh. "Exactly what I was going for." I toy with purse in my hands for a few moments—a clutch is what Donna actually calls it, and part of me can't believe I've retained that bit of knowledge. "This is what my life is now," I say, chuckling.
"I've got news for you, my friend; this has been your life for years."
My eyes snap up to her, and my mouth opens as I'm ready to contradict her, but it shuts just as quickly. I've been carrying Donna's stuff for a lot longer than we've been together. Any formal function that includes her also includes my pockets full of her essentials that can't carry. It was always interesting to find her lipstick or something in a jacket pocket weeks later. "Yeah, I guess it has," I finally answer. "It's going to be my life for another few decades at least, too."
"And you're okay with that?" she asks, her voice soft but sharp, and my heart sinks just a little.
"CJ…"
"I just want to make sure. I know it's between you and Donna but when she called me a couple of weeks ago in that much pain…I've never heard her like that before. I just want to make sure that she never feels like that again."
"I know, I know. I'm an idiot—"
"It's not about you being an idiot, it's about you talking to the woman you love about what's going on in your head. It's about not shutting her out, especially when it counts the most. I'd be just as angry if she did the same thing to you."
"You would?"
"Josh, you really are an idiot. Of course I would. You're my friend, too, and I don't want you to be treated badly by anyone, especially not the person you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with. You're family—you're both family—but the trouble is that you have a bit more of a history of being very bad with women. Knowing that you'd treated Donna of all people that way…I was ready to tear you limb from limb. Rest assured, though, that an equally suitable punishment would have been in store for her if the roles had been reversed."
"It kills me that I hurt her," I whisper, even though the crowd has thinned out considerably and there's no one around to hear just how badly I treated Donna.
"I know."
"Have you talked to her?"
"A little. She didn't give me all the details but she told me a couple of weeks ago that you two were talking and working it out, and that you'd told her if that if she wanted to cancel or postpone the wedding, you'd be the one to tell everybody. She said that even if she woke up on the morning of the wedding and wasn't sure, you'd break the news."
"Of course I would. I owe her at least that much, and if my stupidity is what caused our wedding to be put on hold, then I should be the one to tell everyone." I pause, sighing in frustration with myself. "You know, it was never that I didn't want to marry her. You know that by now, right?" CJ nods, watching me carefully. "It just…I didn't…I don't want to end up breaking her heart somewhere down the road because I turn out to be just like all the other assholes in this town. She deserves better than that. She deserves better than me."
"Be that as it may, you're the one she wants. You're just going to have to live with it."
I chuckle again. "My cross to bear," I answer, surprised to find that voice is a little choked and, if I'm not mistaken, tears prickling my eyes yet again.
"I'm no expert," CJ says, "because I've only been married for about five minutes longer than you, so take any of this advice with a grain of salt, but I'm pretty sure the main thing you need to do is love each other. Marriage is different than what you have now, but the fundamentals are the same. Talk to each other, listen to each other, trust each other, stuff like that. Seems obvious, but it's important. You two have been talking to each other for a lot longer than you've been doing anything else. It should be second nature by this point. But really, don't follow anyone else's example. Who cares if this town is filled with a bunch of assholes that don't understand or care about how to be married? Even more important, don't try to emulate successful relationships because what works for them won't necessarily work for you. Do what feels right for the two of you and I think you'll be okay."
"That's good advice, actually." I rub my eyes for a few moments, trying to get myself under control. "So, we're still friends?"
"We were never not friends," she whispers, pulling me into her arms, and we hug each other tightly. "I'm sorry I made you think otherwise."
"Sisters before misters and all that," I mumble, making her laugh. "I'll try to do better."
"That's all anyone can ask for."
We hold on for a few more minutes before we pull apart, giving each other watery smiles. A bit of movement catches my eye and I turn to see Donna a few feet away, smiling at us. "Please—don't let me interrupt."
We both laugh as she walks over to us and CJ meets her partway, grabbing onto her hands. "So…you're marrying this big lug tomorrow?"
"Yes. Yes, I am." A shiver—a good shiver—runs down my spine.
"And you're sure about that?" I want to be mad that CJ's asking, but I've been asking Donna the same thing for days now.
Donna's eyes flick over to me and she smiles, and I'm happy to see that for the first time in weeks, I can't find any reservations in her eyes. "Positive."
"Good enough for me," she answers, pulling Donna into a hug. They squeeze each other tightly, and it's an oddly touching moment that almost reduces me to tears yet again. This doesn't bode well for me for tomorrow. When they release each other, they both swipe at their eyes and laugh self-consciously.
I hold open Donna's jacket, giving it a little shake. "Let's get out of here."
She lets me help her shrug into it, working her hair loose from under the collar before taking her clutch from me, fixing the collar on my jacket after I pull it on. "Some people were saying they're hitting up a couple of bars or clubs tonight, keep the party going."
"I heard the same thing," CJ says, falling into step next to us.
I hold out my arm to Donna and she tucks her hand into my elbow. "Did you want to go with them?" I ask.
"Honestly, I'm way too tired for all that. The last few days with all the final details and everything have been exhausting. I just want to crawl into bed."
"That sounds really good," I answer, already imagining curling up with Donna and passing out.
CJ gives us a strange look but says nothing as we make out way outside to the stragglers. I'm surprised to find our parents out there among them; I can't imagine any of them being interested in going out partying, but I guess there's a first time for everything.
"Well, you guys have a good time. Just try not to be too hung over tomorrow, all right?"
"No interest in one last night of freedom?" Charlie teases, and all I can do is roll my eyes.
"No, no, I'm good," I say, readjusting my arm to wrap around Donna's waist.
"We're just going to head home. He can probably sleep in a little but I have to be up super early for…everything, I guess."
"You're not going home together," her mom says, giving us a strange look.
"We're not?" Donna asks, looking at me in confusion. "Are we staying somewhere else tonight?"
"You can't see each other before the ceremony."
"We can't?" Donna asks, suddenly looking amused. "Why not?"
"It's bad luck," my mother says, nodding her head sagely.
"It is not," Donna answers, and rolling her eyes at me. "That's an old superstition that pertains to arranged marriages and has absolutely nothing to do with two consenting adults who live together."
"If that's the case—if you don't think it's bad luck—why hasn't Josh seen your dress?" her mother counters, looking almost smug.
"Because he doesn't want to see it until I'm walking down the aisle. It's a request he made and I'm happy to honor it. Neither of us think it's bad luck for him to see the dress ahead of time, though."
"It won't kill you to spend one night apart."
"It might," I mumble, and my mom whacks my arm.
"Don't be rude," she admonishes.
"Rude? I'm suddenly being told that I can't spend the night before my wedding with the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my nights with. Forgive me if I'm a little confused."
It's then I've noticed that our friends have tried to subtly move away from what might turn into a brawl between us and our parents. Well, our mothers—my soon to be father-in-law hasn't added his two cents yet.
"It's a tradition, Joshua. Most couples don't even live together before marriage so it's not typically an issue."
"Ma, most couples actually do live together before marriage nowadays. You've known for a very long time that we live together. If you had some notion that we wouldn't be spending tonight with each other, why didn't you say anything before now?"
She just looks confused. "Because you can't see her before the ceremony."
"Oh, good God," I breathe, running a hand through my hair.
"Donna, you're staying at the White House tonight," Mrs. Moss says, looking excited. "The First Lady offered up a few rooms in the Residence so that we could all be nearby in the morning to get ready. All of your stuff is there for tomorrow."
"All of my stuff? When did this happen?"
"Well, your dress has been there all week," Helen says, trying to be helpful. "For safekeeping."
"Yeah, sure, my wedding day stuff has been there for a few days so I wouldn't have to worry about it tomorrow morning. I don't know anything about me being there tonight, though." She turns, lifting an eyebrow at Helen. "Have you been conspiring with my mother about this?"
Helen's eyes grow wide and she shakes her head vigorously. "No! I only brought it up because I thought it was a foregone conclusion. I didn't know that you didn't know you weren't going to spend the night with Josh. I just wanted to be helpful and since we have the most space…I thought it would be a sort of girls' night. Everyone's going to be there—CJ, Annabeth..." her voice trails off and she shuffles her feet a little, shrugging.
"I got some stuff together for you this morning," Donna's mom adds in. "Pajamas, tooth brush, clothes for tomorrow before you put on the dress. It's all at the White House."
"I just don't understand why all of you decided that Donna and I aren't allowed to spend the night before our wedding together."
"I don't understand why this is a shock to you," my mom counters, putting her hands on her hips. "This tradition is older than all of us put together."
"Have either of us once mentioned staying anywhere else? In all this time, has this ever come up before this very moment? There are a lot of old traditions that people don't abide by anymore—"
"Josh," Donna says softly. "It's fine."
"No, it's not! I—"
She grabs my hand and pulls me a few feet down the sidewalk, stopping when we're out of earshot. "Let them have this."
"What? You're agreeing with them?"
"Absolutely not, but I don't have it in me to fight with everyone over this tonight. I would much rather be with you but this is going to be easier so…let's just concede."
"Donna," I say with a heavy sigh. "We've given up so much for this wedding already."
"I know, and we both knew going into it that we'd have to agree to a lot of things that we wouldn't necessarily have considered otherwise. This is just going to have to be one of those things."
She looks so tired and defeated right now that I don't have the heart to argue with her, especially because I don't think we're going to win this one. "I don't want to upset you."
She smiles, stepping closer to me. "You're not the one upsetting me right now. Honestly, I would love nothing more than to go home and fall into bed with you but I really don't think this is a fight worth having. I really don't think a single person considered what we would want in this equation because they all assumed that we'd do the superstitious thing. If this had been brought up to me before now I might have been more amenable to it but…I think we just have to let it go. I'll go have my pajama party with my faithful handmaidens and you'll…well, just don't take it out on your mother, okay?"
I nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Okay. I just wish I'd had more time to prepare than five minutes. It feels stupid to be upset over it but…I don't know. It's just one more decision that we didn't get to make. One more thing that no one bothered to consult us on."
"I know," she whispers. She steps into me and we wrap our arms around each other, breathing deeply. I really shouldn't be the one complaining about that considering Donna's the one that's been dealing with all of that while I've kept my head buried in the sand, but it still feels like another injustice. "I guess…it'll be kind of fun to not see each other at all before we get married tomorrow. It'll build the anticipation. Make the moment even better."
"I love you so much for trying to look on the bright side," I answer with a laugh. "It's only a few extra hours, right?"
"Just a few extra hours. No big deal."
"So," I say, taking her face in my hands. "I'll see you at the altar?"
"I'll be the one who looks like a fancy cupcake. You won't be able to miss me."
"For the record, I absolutely hate this."
"Me, too."
"But you're also correct. It's not a fight worth having. We'll just…smile and nod and after tomorrow, we'll lay down some ground rules for our life."
"I like it." She smiles at me, her head tilting to the side a little. "I love you."
My heart stops for a few moments as I look at her. By this time tomorrow, she's going to be my wife. The next time I see her will be when she's coming down the aisle.
Our parents and most of our friends have no way of knowing that we've only just started sleeping next to each other again. They don't know that I've been a major league jerk and wouldn't even bother to crawl into bed with her for a few hours before disappearing again. They don't know why spending the night together is such a big deal right now.
I pull her into me, kissing her as hard as I can. She responds just as fiercely, clinging to me as if we won't see each other ever again.
Someone—Donna's dad, I think—clears their throat and we part reluctantly. "I'll see you tomorrow," I whisper, giving her another quick kiss.
"Not if I see you first," she answers, making me smile. "I love you."
"I love you more."
She gives me one last squeeze and untangles herself, heading toward Helen and her detail, waiting to take them to the White House. I'm guessing everyone else who's going with them has gotten into the limo because the crowd on the sidewalk has thinned considerably. I watch as Donna gets into the car and the door shuts behind her. I watch as the small army of vehicles pull away from the front of the restaurant, taking Donna what amounts to a matter of minutes from where I'll be tonight. I'm still unbelievably irritated that this decision was made for us, "tradition" or not; it feels like something that should have been mentioned before tonight. I would have supposed that I missed it with the way I behaved the last couple of months, but Donna seemed just as confused as I was. Still, Donna's right. It's not worth fighting about right now, and it's easier to smile and nod.
It is a stupid tradition, though.
Once they're out of sight, my mom takes my arm, giving me a little tug.
"Come on, darling boy. Let's get you home. You have a big day tomorrow." I can't help but grin at her words.
That I do.
That I do.
Who else has the audacity to include a slideshow set to music that none of you can see or hear? I'm kind of an ass that way. At any rate, thank you for reading. Be kind to each other. Don't be douche bags. Always remember that your head canon isn't anyone else's head canon and that's what makes fanfiction so cool. Don't gatekeep a fandom, especially when someone doesn't agree with your head canon. Let's let this be a creative outlet and, you know, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all (or slide into their DMs, but be prepared to have your "helpful comments" brutally rebuffed).
Still trying to work on stuff. I've got a lot of…something…written. I'm not sure if it's good or really stupid, but it's a really slow process on that one, and I'm reluctant to post any of it if I can't write it with regularity. I'm hoping to hit a groove with it at some point, though, so fingers crossed.