Fic rec (and some related not!fic)
I'm slowly reading my way through all the fantastic fic posted for the drawn_to holiday exchange, rationing out the longer, novella length fics in an attempt to make them last until bandombigbang wave one goes live (which, btw, I've signed up to do a mix for), so I spent last night happily readingturps33 's "Standing on the Grave of Dreams" (Ryan/Spencer, Pete/Mikey, NC-17. Warnings for sexual slavery and non-con amongst other things - really, read the warnings if you have triggers in that direction). And it's totally fantastic and you should all go read it, even if you, like me, are not a Ryan/Spencer girl. It's written from Ryan's pov, and her Ryan voice is fantastic.
Anyway, the little details obviously stuck with me overnight, because a not!fic skydived it's way into my brain whilst I was eating my breakfast and, wonder of wonders, I actually wrote it down (my resolution to be more involved in bandom seems to be holding so far, huzzah!) turps33 has graciously allowed me to share it, so here it is, in all it's unedited glory. It's weirdly enough from Brian Schechter's pov (he wasn't even in the fic, wtf?) and is all about how Gerard met Lindsey, and probably won't make a lick of sense if you haven't already read "Standing on the Grave of Dreams" (go! Read! I'll wait!), but regardless, simply to prove that I can, occasionally, actually put pen to paper (or rather, fingers to keyboard), here it is:
Breakfast not!Fic, in which Lindsey and Gerard meet at a gallery opening in the city, and Brian watches:
Gerard is there at Brian’s insistence - this isn’t his show, the works hanging the product of a talented young photographer new to the scene, but for the past six months, since Mikey disappeared, since he’s got sober, all Gerard can care about is finding his brother and his art and his reputation has suffered. And Brian wouldn’t give a damn about any of that - Mikey was his friend, and he was just as frantic as anybody, and watching Gerard fight his way back to sobriety was perhaps the bravest thing he’d ever witnessed - but Gerard needs the connections and the cold hard cash that selling his sculpture to the rarified gives him, and super manager or not, Brian can’t keep the goodwill flowing on his own.
Still, Brian knows that Gerard has always found these events difficult - before sobering up, he used to start drinking before he’d even put on his dress shoes and tie - so Brian’s on guard, waiting for the inevitable signal from Gerard, the ‘please for the love of God save me’ signal that indicated Gerard was about to do something stupid, like speak his mind. Easily eighty, eighty-five percent of Brian’s job these days was stopping Gerard from speaking his mind. Gerard is only a few feet away, talking with one of his patrons, a died up husk of a man in a ridiculous cravat, of all things, who just loves Gerard’s gargoyles, and his wife, who may just be older and more desiccated-looking than her husband. Gerard’s hands are moving wildly as he speaks, emphasising his point and whilst he would look engrossed to the uninitiated, Brian can see that only half his attention is on the couple by the way his eyes flick up every so often, casting about the room. Brian knows that Gerard still hopes one day he’ll look up at one of these parties and Mikey will be there.
Brian hopes it too.
Gerard’s eyes flick up for another scan of the room and this time they stall, and for a few brief, heart-stopping seconds Brian thinks “thank God, Mikey,” before realising Gerard’s attention’s been caught by something else entirely. He follows Gerard’s gaze over to the bar, to a woman - to Lindsey Ballato, who is standing at her father’s side in a red dress and darker than appropriate makeup and watching Gerard as intently as he’s watching her.
Brian blinks, because Lindsey, he knows, is there to find a husband.
Or at least, that’s how the rumour mill had it. The Ballato girl, only child, spoiled, indulged - her father got her into medical school using his clout to ease her way past the admissions board, and whilst technically it’s not illegal for women to aspire to higher learning, it must have taken a lot of money to grease those palms, regardless of how intelligent she is - and at twenty-six, one of the oldest unmarried women to still grace the society pages. That Brian knows how old she is when they’ve never technically met indicates the sheer level of gossip surrounding her. Brian would be jealous, except that a similar amount surrounds Gerard. Rumour and innuendo keep the art world - keep the rich world - afloat, and Brian does his best to cultivate a reckless, rebellious reputation for Gerard all whilst keeping a tight lid on the truths that would be a danger should they become wider knowledge.
Gerard and Lindsey have not broken eye contact. Oblivious, the husk in the cravat continues to drone on, but Brian can see Gerard is only paying minimal attention to him now.
Lindsey quirks her lips, her eyes shining.
Gerard blushes.
Brian bites the inside of his cheek to stop from bursting out with laughter.
Lindsey murmurs something to her father and then leaves his side, crossing the room towards Gerard, who is turning redder by the second, and Brian motions to a circling waiter to replace his drink. He sips - water, for Brian is sober now too, or at least, he is when he’s around Gerard - whilst watching Lindsey smoothly insert herself into the conversation, cravat & his wife obviously in the palm of her hand as she subtly angles her body towards Gerard’s.
Gerard, for his part, seems to have lost track of the conversation entirely, his eyes wide and somewhat incredulous.
Out of the corner of his eye Brian can see the gallery owner, and whilst he probably should stay close to Gerard, he really did need to speak to him at some point tonight about arranging Gerard’s next show. And whilst Brian’s job description was vague and seemingly all-encompassing, it really didn’t mention anything about Gerard’s love life - and if it did, well, a match to Lindsey Ballato could potentially be very good for business.
The couple moved off, and Lindsey was speaking directly to Gerard now, her smile coy. Gerard had regained some of his composure and was smiling as well - a small one, perhaps, but Gerard hadn’t smiled in a long time.
Nope, definitely not any of his business. Brian finished off his drink and then turned to go find the gallery owner. Gerard would have to do without his lurking presence for a while.
Brian thought he’d probably do just fine without him.
Started at breakfast, finished at lunch, and posted over dinner. Obviously, food makes me creative. Speaking of, my dinner tonight is excellent. I chucked some lamb chops in the slowcooker with a can of chopped tomatoes, a can of water, some italian herbs and a couple of bay leaves Thursday and have eaten the resulting deliciousness the past two nights. The meat is so tender I'm using only a spoon. Mmmmn, melty meat.
Also, Vampire Weekend's new album is awesome.
Anyway, the little details obviously stuck with me overnight, because a not!fic skydived it's way into my brain whilst I was eating my breakfast and, wonder of wonders, I actually wrote it down (my resolution to be more involved in bandom seems to be holding so far, huzzah!) turps33 has graciously allowed me to share it, so here it is, in all it's unedited glory. It's weirdly enough from Brian Schechter's pov (he wasn't even in the fic, wtf?) and is all about how Gerard met Lindsey, and probably won't make a lick of sense if you haven't already read "Standing on the Grave of Dreams" (go! Read! I'll wait!), but regardless, simply to prove that I can, occasionally, actually put pen to paper (or rather, fingers to keyboard), here it is:
Breakfast not!Fic, in which Lindsey and Gerard meet at a gallery opening in the city, and Brian watches:
Gerard is there at Brian’s insistence - this isn’t his show, the works hanging the product of a talented young photographer new to the scene, but for the past six months, since Mikey disappeared, since he’s got sober, all Gerard can care about is finding his brother and his art and his reputation has suffered. And Brian wouldn’t give a damn about any of that - Mikey was his friend, and he was just as frantic as anybody, and watching Gerard fight his way back to sobriety was perhaps the bravest thing he’d ever witnessed - but Gerard needs the connections and the cold hard cash that selling his sculpture to the rarified gives him, and super manager or not, Brian can’t keep the goodwill flowing on his own.
Still, Brian knows that Gerard has always found these events difficult - before sobering up, he used to start drinking before he’d even put on his dress shoes and tie - so Brian’s on guard, waiting for the inevitable signal from Gerard, the ‘please for the love of God save me’ signal that indicated Gerard was about to do something stupid, like speak his mind. Easily eighty, eighty-five percent of Brian’s job these days was stopping Gerard from speaking his mind. Gerard is only a few feet away, talking with one of his patrons, a died up husk of a man in a ridiculous cravat, of all things, who just loves Gerard’s gargoyles, and his wife, who may just be older and more desiccated-looking than her husband. Gerard’s hands are moving wildly as he speaks, emphasising his point and whilst he would look engrossed to the uninitiated, Brian can see that only half his attention is on the couple by the way his eyes flick up every so often, casting about the room. Brian knows that Gerard still hopes one day he’ll look up at one of these parties and Mikey will be there.
Brian hopes it too.
Gerard’s eyes flick up for another scan of the room and this time they stall, and for a few brief, heart-stopping seconds Brian thinks “thank God, Mikey,” before realising Gerard’s attention’s been caught by something else entirely. He follows Gerard’s gaze over to the bar, to a woman - to Lindsey Ballato, who is standing at her father’s side in a red dress and darker than appropriate makeup and watching Gerard as intently as he’s watching her.
Brian blinks, because Lindsey, he knows, is there to find a husband.
Or at least, that’s how the rumour mill had it. The Ballato girl, only child, spoiled, indulged - her father got her into medical school using his clout to ease her way past the admissions board, and whilst technically it’s not illegal for women to aspire to higher learning, it must have taken a lot of money to grease those palms, regardless of how intelligent she is - and at twenty-six, one of the oldest unmarried women to still grace the society pages. That Brian knows how old she is when they’ve never technically met indicates the sheer level of gossip surrounding her. Brian would be jealous, except that a similar amount surrounds Gerard. Rumour and innuendo keep the art world - keep the rich world - afloat, and Brian does his best to cultivate a reckless, rebellious reputation for Gerard all whilst keeping a tight lid on the truths that would be a danger should they become wider knowledge.
Gerard and Lindsey have not broken eye contact. Oblivious, the husk in the cravat continues to drone on, but Brian can see Gerard is only paying minimal attention to him now.
Lindsey quirks her lips, her eyes shining.
Gerard blushes.
Brian bites the inside of his cheek to stop from bursting out with laughter.
Lindsey murmurs something to her father and then leaves his side, crossing the room towards Gerard, who is turning redder by the second, and Brian motions to a circling waiter to replace his drink. He sips - water, for Brian is sober now too, or at least, he is when he’s around Gerard - whilst watching Lindsey smoothly insert herself into the conversation, cravat & his wife obviously in the palm of her hand as she subtly angles her body towards Gerard’s.
Gerard, for his part, seems to have lost track of the conversation entirely, his eyes wide and somewhat incredulous.
Out of the corner of his eye Brian can see the gallery owner, and whilst he probably should stay close to Gerard, he really did need to speak to him at some point tonight about arranging Gerard’s next show. And whilst Brian’s job description was vague and seemingly all-encompassing, it really didn’t mention anything about Gerard’s love life - and if it did, well, a match to Lindsey Ballato could potentially be very good for business.
The couple moved off, and Lindsey was speaking directly to Gerard now, her smile coy. Gerard had regained some of his composure and was smiling as well - a small one, perhaps, but Gerard hadn’t smiled in a long time.
Nope, definitely not any of his business. Brian finished off his drink and then turned to go find the gallery owner. Gerard would have to do without his lurking presence for a while.
Brian thought he’d probably do just fine without him.
Started at breakfast, finished at lunch, and posted over dinner. Obviously, food makes me creative. Speaking of, my dinner tonight is excellent. I chucked some lamb chops in the slowcooker with a can of chopped tomatoes, a can of water, some italian herbs and a couple of bay leaves Thursday and have eaten the resulting deliciousness the past two nights. The meat is so tender I'm using only a spoon. Mmmmn, melty meat.
Also, Vampire Weekend's new album is awesome.