Me, years ago, on my way to Spain to join my crush on tour

Just a Little Secret - Eben Franckewitz

Eben Franckewitz Imagine

Request: from @caswinchester2000 / @zachheroin - the reader is in wdw and she’s dating eben, but no ones knows. one of the boys catches them doing stuff in the tour bus one day and that’s how they find out.!

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 1250

Tags: @kvd963, @peachybeachyqueeny, @bessonbear, @0totally-tubular0 , @katie-avery, @tigerreece, @jonahmaraisstuff, @blissfulblake, @danielseaveyismyworld, @caswinchester2000

A/N: this is the first time ive written for eben so let me know if yall like it :)

You’re in Why Don’t We and right now, you’re on tour with Eben, but the thing is, is that you and Eben are dating, and none of the boys know. You’ve actually been waiting since right before the 8 Letters Tour started, so you’re kind of surprised that the boys haven’t caught you yet. It’s not that you and Eben don’t want to tell them, you just wanted to make sure that what was happening was gonna stick and was real, and now that it is, you’re not too sure when you want to tell them. In all honestly, you’re scared to tell them, so is Eben; they’re yours and Eben’s best friends, so you don’t want a bad reaction from them. So for the past few months on tour, when you guys all booked hotel rooms if you were staying somewhere longer than usual, one of you would sneak into the other’s room. Usually it was Eben sneaking into your room since the boys were typically the ones to share rooms.

One night though, Eben was the one that had his own room and you were sharing a room with Daniel. Unfortunate for you and Eben though, was that whenever you and Daniel shared a room he’d wanna stay up and talk or watch tv or something. You loved Daniel of course, you two have actually been friends since before Why Don’t We, but you loved your boyfriend too and it wasn’t often that you two got to spend time alone. So your phone kept buzzing with texts and calls from Eben wondering where you were since you planned on sneaking to his room once Daniel was asleep. And you couldn’t answer or else Daniel would think something, so you ignored the calls and texts. Then 15 minutes had passed and you and Daniel were still watching tv, but then there was a soft knock on the door, “I’ll get it,” Daniel said getting off the bed. You stayed your bed, but scooted to the end to peak so you could see who was at the door. “Oh hey Eben!” “Daniel? Hey! Did I wake you guys? I just wanted to hang before I went to sleep,” you heard Eben say as a way to cover. “No, no, Y/N and I are just watching tv and talking. Come in,” Daniel told your boyfriend.

That happens more often than either of you would like, whether it was you sharing a room with one of the boys or if it’s Eben. But neither of you wanna ask if you two could share a room for once because that’d be quite suspicious. So another way you both get to be together without the rest of the boys is on the tourbus at night. When Daniel, Jack, Corbyn, Jonah and Zach say they’re heading to bed, you and Eben will usually say you’re staying up to play more video games or to watch more netflix, most of the time the boys don’t stay so they can play more. And then once the boys leave you’re able to just lay together on the small couch cuddled up, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking about anything. But you’re both always sure to not fall asleep because then you’d definitely get caught by the boys.

Tonight though, the boys went out to a milkshake place a fan told them about, but you and Eben said you were good and wanted to stay on the bus. The second the boys left, you both went to the back lounge and laid there together holding each other, there might’ve been some kissing and making out as well, along with the occasional conversation, “hey babe, I kinda wanna tell the boys soon. I feel bad lying to them and sneaking around.” “Yeah, I feel the same.” “Plus we know that we’re in a good, stable place where we both love each other and want to stay together,” Eben said rubbing your hand he’s been holding onto. You smiled at him, you knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him, but him saying that about your relationship just made you really happy, “I love you so much, you know that?” Eben smiles back at you and leaned you down and half laid on top of you to kiss you. Then a minute later you heard the lounge door open and Eben immediately removed himself from you and you both scooted away from each other, but it was too late. Jack was standing in the doorway and saw what was happening. He just stared for a few seconds and then turned around running and screaming for the rest of the boys’ attention. “Well they got back sooner than I thought,” Eben said before he chased after Jack. You quickly got up after Eben to follow him into the rest of the bus where Jack had gone running for the boys. Once you and Eben get to the front of the bus right behind Jack where the boys were, Jack turned you the two of you and pointed at you both, “explain!”

You and Eben were kind of surprised by Jack, and looked at each other questioningly before Eben spoke up, “so uh, Y/N and I have kind of, uh, been dating since the tour started.” He was speaking kind of quietly, scared of the boys’ reactions so you moved closer to him and kissed his arm while grabbing his hand. He looked down at you and smiled, feeling safe where he was now. “I mean yeah, I figured something was happening, you guys aren’t as sneaking as you think,” Corbyn said laughing a little. “What?! I didn’t know this was happening! And I just walked into the lounge thinking they were back there playing a game and wanted to join, but then was surprised by them doing stuff,” Jack explained, clearly still shaken seeing two of his best friends together. It was your turn to talk, “sorry Jack, and sorry boys. We were gonna tell you soon, we actually talked about it earlier. We didn’t wanna hide it from you, but we wanted to make sure it was real.” Jonah stepped forward, “and I’m assuming that it is?” “Yes, very real,” Eben said smiling down at you, which you returned. “Well I’m happy for you guys, you know I love you, no matter what,” Zach said and he shook Eben’s hand and hugged you, kissing you on the check. The rest of the boys did the same and headed back to the lounge, except for Daniel. “I love you bro, but if you do anything to her, you have me to deal with,” Daniel said in a serious tone. “What if she does something to me,” Eben jokingly said laughing, not getting a reaction from Daniel. “Eben. I’m serious.” “I know. I don’t plan on hurting her or doing anything to hurt her.” “Good. Love you dude.” Eben laughed at Daniel and brought him into a hug, “love you too man.” Then Daniel came up to you and hugged you tightly and whispered, “I love you more than I love him don’t worry.” You let out a loud laugh, then controlled yourself, “I love you too, thank you.” Daniel let go of you and kissed your forehead and walked to the lounge. “Well that went better than I thought,” you told Eben laughing. “I love you, Y/N.” “Love you too, Eben,” you responded as he pulled you into a hug.

Hunter Hearst Helmsley x Fem Reader- “Nipple H”

________________________________________________________________

 It's 1996, late 1996 to be exact, perhaps around August.

 Just before a certain wrestling icon known as Triple H would go by that moniker and would go under a vast majority of gimmick changes, he was a fresh new WWF star whose character was a classy, snooty, 1800's gentleman named Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

 And you worked as his valet, dressed in beautiful, sparking gowns, his arm wrapped behind your waist as he entered the arena.

However, off stage, Hunter wasn't what he played on television, neither were you.

 You and Hunter were riding on his tour bus that the two of you shared together, you sat next to him, and the only other person with you on this bus was the driver.

You were dressed in an oversized Adidas T-shirt with no bra underneath and one of Hunter's basketball shorts.

Hunter was sitting next to you dressed in a baggy man's T-shirt and loose fitting basketball shorts, his hair long and tousled.

Since he's not on television and not in character, should he be called Hunter or by his real name, Paul?

You were looking out the window, watching trees and houses and what have you all go by you very quickly.

The sun was shining down on your tour bus, the bus driving through the middle of nowhere.

You got a little bored just sitting there, not doing much besides listening to your CD player and sleeping, even imagining certain things here and there.

You always loved the attention your nipples got, no, not compliments, but when men (Hunter/Paul included, and Shawn Michaels for that matter since you've fucked him a few times) played with your nipples and areolas, licked them, sucked them, tweaked them, basically pleasured them.

You lifted your hand from the little arm rest and put your index finger where your breast is, although, you didn't put your hand under your shirt, but above it.

Your shirt was blocking your finger from rubbing your areola, but whatevs.

In a circle, you ran your index finger over your areola over and over again, over your clothed nipple.

Holy fucking shit, this feels so good. So good. So good, you want Hunter to do this to you.

Or should he be called Paul?

Whatever.

Hunter was sitting right next to you, minding his own business, not really doing much surprisingly, and thank God he was awake.

You craned your neck into Hunter's ear and whispered "Hunter?".

Your hand tapped his upper arm a few times.

He suddenly turned his head towards you, looking at you.

"What?" he asked.

You then craned your neck closer into his ear, moving some of his hair out of the way so you could whisper into his ear.

Oh God, does she want to fuck me on the tourbus again? he thought.

The two of you have fucked on the tour bus a few times, amongst other places.

"I want you to rub my areola with your index finger around in a circle" you whispered. "Over my T-shirt, as in...your index finger runs in a circle over and over above my areola, although, my T-shirt is blocking my areola. Do you get that?"

His eyes grew wide in shock and surprise.

Though, considering the two of you have fucked on the tour bus and even in a few public places a few times, he wasn't really all that surprised.

And God, you hope the man driving your bus doesn't hear what you're whispering, though, Hunter has fucked you while you sat in his lap while the bus driver was driving!

"I get it" Hunter whispered.

"Should I sit in your lap?" you asked him. "Or should I sit here?"

"Do whatever you want" he responded, trying to sound hushed.

"You want me to caress this nipple?" Hunter asked, pointing to your right one.

"Yeah" you responded, nodding your head.

Hunter lifted his hand off of the arm rest and scrunched all of his fingers into the palm of his hand, except for one pointing straight, his index finger, like E.T.

He moved his index finger towards the middle of your right breast, where he thought your nipple was, and landed his index finger there.

 "Am I touching your nipple?" he asked.

 "Yeah" you replied.

You lifted your hand and scrunched your fingers into your palm, except for one finger, your index finger, and moved your index finger to your left breast, where your hand and finger were hovering over your left areola.

Although, it's too bad your T-shirt was blocking your areola from being touched, but it can still feel good even if clothing is covering your nipple.

Hunter began running circles around with his index finger over your clothed areola, whereas you did the same thing over your other areola.

You tilted your head back on your seat's headrest.

Even though this felt really good for you to rub your nipple and have someone else rub your areola, it doesn't feel quite good enough to moan out some orgasms.

 Hunter decided to spice things up.

 "Am I making you feel good, darling?" he purred, looking at you.

"Yeah" you said, quietly and breathlessly. "Did you call me 'darling' because you're trying to stay in your Hunter Hearst Helmsley character?"

 "Yes, indeed, lovely" he replied.

 You liked that. A lot.

While you don't mind him being a modern man, 1800's gentlemen are just so classy and charming.

Although, what he'd become 2 years later in the WWF would probably make 1995 Hunter Hearst Helmsley upset. You know what I'm talking about.

And you decided you wanted to spice things up too.

You then unbent your middle and ring finger from the palm of your hand and moved your hand over your areola, the one you were drawing a circle around.

With 3 fingers attached to each other closely and not in open spaces, you rubbed those 3 fingers up and down your clothed areola, your nipple being blocked by a T-shirt.

Your areola was very sensitive, more sensitive than your clitoris, and it had this little tingling feeling.

Hunter noticed you rubbing 3 fingers up and down your areola.

"Why are you rubbing 3 fingers instead of one?" he asked.

"It feels really good" you responded. "You wanna rub 3 fingers over my tits?"

God, you hope the bus driver doesn't hear the two of yours conversation.

But, anything to please a lady, since Hunter was such a gentleman who wooed ladies.

Like you did, he straightened his middle and ring fingers out of his palm and let his index, middle and ring fingers touch one another.

He then began rubbing those 3 fingers up and down your areola, causing friction on your nipple.

That nipple he was rubbing was very sensitive too.

"Y'wanna sit in my lap?" he purred, trying to sound sexy.

Oh boy, what to do, what to do...

Even though this could make things sexier and intense, your bus driver is in front of the two of you, not directly right in front of you, but in front of you nonetheless and could see what's going on.

"I'm worried about the bus driver" you whispered to him. "I'm worried he'll see us".

"Even though I fucked you on this bus while the driver was driving?" Hunter whispered. "You were bouncing up and down my dick, remember that?"

"Of course, and the driver noticed" you said. "He didn't mind it".

"So why would you be worried?" Hunter asked.

You shrugged your shoulders.

 "Do you want to continue or not?" Hunter asked.

You had no idea what to say.

Actually, you did.

"Y'know, even though touching my nipples feels really good" you said. "I don't really want to cum or anything".

Hunter shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

"So you want me to still rub your nipples or not?" Hunter asked.

You made your mind up.

You then hopped out of your seat and plopped your ass on Hunter's lap, your back facing his chest, sitting like Jennifer Aniston in this gifs:

His cock immediately had blood rushing towards it, making his cock stand up straight.

You could feel his erection, though it wouldn't get in your pussy since his shorts are blocking his erection.

Hunter wasn't expecting you to sit on his lap.

"I thought you didn't want to sit in my lap?" he asked.

"I made up my mind" you fired back at him, although you tried not to sound angry when you said that back at him.

Hunter also had an idea with him.

"Hey" he said, whispering it in your ear "Want me to rub both fingers over your nipples?"

"Fuck yeah" you responded.

He's hotter than the month he was born in and you want him to do this to you.

Hunter grinned back, loving your motivation.

You weren't really paying attention to what was outside the tourbus.

God, hopefully the bus doesn't run out of gas, though maybe that's a good thing.

But what happens if we'll be at the arena Hunter will perform in?

You turned your head and looked out the window.

Some houses, some restaurants, the same usual bullshit.

Thank God.

With your head looking now at the seat in front of you, you couldn't wait for Hunter to rub both of your nips.

Hunter then put his hands over your T-shirt, over your clothed breasts, and rubbed his index, middle and ring fingers up and down your nipples, like a painter painting a picket fence.

It felt even better having someone's fingers rubbing up and down your clothed nipples than around in a circle.

"Am I touching your nipples?" Hunter asked, you felt his breath in your ear.

"Yes you are!" you replied, smiling.

"Am I making you feel good, princess?" he purred in your ear, his breath and his voice in your ear, even some of his breath on the back of your neck.

"You are, baby" you replied.

Even though this felt really good, this doesn't feel so good enough to have an orgasm over.

...Rooks & Ussan are in for a quickie in the train toilet, tourbus or backstage? Beautiful layout btw!

If anyone were to ask, Ruki would say his life was a novel. Had the potential to be a movie. But really, to get the whole spill – to really get the weight of it – you’d bloody well have to read the book, and you’d stay for the long haul to see how it unfolded and what happens next. How did the latest events of his life place him here, pressed up tight against the door of a too cramped tour bus bathroom with his dick and Uruha’s own in his hand getting each other off, attempting to not suck visible bruises onto each other’s necks. Just like for everything else, Ruki had a story. And he hoped someone could fill him in and make sense of it, too.

Shit happened.

Well,hell, he left home with little to nothing to his name but a dream and a band he, Reita and Uruha vowed would be their last in the hushed murmurs they shared between them. Made a run for it with them to Tokyo – which, okay, was by far the most batshit craziest thing he’s done in his life, but here he was – and acquired Aoi, a Mie boy that smelled like cigarettes, cheap cologne and sea salt, gained and lost Yune but Kai… Kind, precious Kai that took a chance on them at the last minute of grace and hadn’t looked back since. Word said that before things got better, it had to get worse, and they’d…

They hit low, been at their worst together, but they were Icarus pushing and soaring without melted wax and crashing ends, hands clasped and hearts thumping, because this was only the beginning.

This, here, is when shit started to happen. Toss in an identity crisis, a breakup – a couple of them, actually – one bad heartbreak, and a shoulder to cry on, and you get him, kissing his lead guitarist and nearly riding his dick for comfort on his living room sofa.

He hadn’t, of course. God, of course not. He was just… sad. Which, he’d admit, didn’t make anything any easier or right, but Uruha had nice hands that knew where to go when he’d zone out and grow quiet, knew how to pitch his voice low in a soothing comfort he hadn’t known existed until recently. And when he kissed him, Uruha let him. Let him crawl into his lap and kiss until they grew breathless, or when Uruha cupped his face and stop him with a hushed yet firm call of his name.

It’d been months since then, and the memory never left him. Not even when he had apologized over lunch and they agreed they’d just put it behind them. Remember how Kouyou looked so open in conflicted arousal beneath him, lips flush and kiss-swollen, lit areas under Ruki’s skin aflame he didn’t know existed until then. He didn’t know what to do with himself. What he did know, was that the memory deserved to be pushed back as far as it could go, never to be touched again. It just happened, and Ruki was willing to leave it at that. They both were.

It changed them, the dynamic of their friendship. For better or worse, Ruki wasn’t sure, but they were… closer than before, now. Reita’s lap wasn’t the only one he stretched his legs over, and if he did Uruha was more than happy to be the cushion for his head, an arm lazily strewn across his chest, cheek rested atop of his head as they all conversed. If he planted his hand longer than intended on Uruha’s thigh the guitarist mentioned nothing of it between offers of a massage if Ruki grumbled about how stiffy his neck and shoulder blades felt. Star Treatment, Reita and Aoi teased and taunted in a way that made Uruha preen with a smug grin when his thumb knew exactly where to press in to draw out the most embarrassingly moaned praise of holy fuck in relief and awe as Ruki melted like putty in overly warm hands.

The reaction wasn’t too different from now, with the way Uruha covered his smaller hand to help stroke them into a tempo that had Ruki’s head lolling back with an audible thump, eyes screwing shut and mouth falling open in a silent moan stuck in the middle of his throat as he tried his best to fuck his way into Uruha’s hand. He would have laughed if he could. Hell, it seemed like Uruha almost had with a snort, a chortle following right behind and cut short for a quiet, roughly husked groan he leaned in to smother into his cheek as he pressed a deep kiss there, and something in Ruki’s stomach fluttered. Here they were, in a tangle for a quick fix because… Uruha had looked at him a certain way, Ruki’s hand had lingered far too long on his thigh than necessary after a group game of Guess That Tune, and whether or not he tried his best to figure out if any of those and everything else had been any indicator of invitation for a quickie, Ruki didn’t know.

As far as he was concerned, in the moment, it didn’t matter. Because Uruha was cuming, fucking into his hand with the most sinful sound of pleasure wrapped around his name breathed in his ear, his free hand a tight grip in hair. And Ruki?

Ruki discovered what it meant to see stars behind his eyelids.  

Patrick and Gerard were only kids when they noticed they were a little more than just friends. When they were 13 they had their first kiss, just to practice, of course. When they were 17, they had sex, just to know what it's like, it didn't really count, it was just practice. They did stuff without even noticing how deep they already fell in love with each other. When Gerard had a girlfriend, things changed quickly. (1/?)

(2/?) When Gerard had his first girlfriend, they were 17, it was only months after Gerard and Patrick had sex. Patrick was working on Fall Out Boy, he had no time to think about the news, he just felt awful. Everything went so slow, but also so fast. Fall Out Boy went on tour shortly after, then they started to record their first album, and then their second- then he thought about Gerard. He had a band too, he recorded music too. But where was he? what happened to him? Patrick didn't hear from Gerard and didn't talk to him in years. When they met on warped tour, Gerard had another girlfriend. She was pretty, maybe mexican, Patrick thought. She was nice too. Patrick felt as if the time with Gerard was a waste of time. That night, Patrick had a nice girl over in his bunk. He knew she wouldn't mean anything, just like Patrick never meant anything to Gerard. They were just sex, just a dirty secret. Gerard saw girls walk in and out of Patrick's tourbus as if he was giving out cold water for free in this hot summer. Gerard and his girlfirend had fights, a lot of fights. She accused him of cheating, since she saw the girls too, and Gerard spent some time in the fall out boy bus. Gerard wasn't cheating, he wasn't that kind of guy, but he had to admit that he missed Patrick a little too much. She left him, and Gerard thought he should feel bad about it, but he didn't. Another girl left Patrick's bus, and she took a part of him with her. Patrick felt worse and worse, the more girls he slept with. He hated it, he never wanted to be that guy, but he was. Shortly afer she left, someone else entered the bus. Patrick didn't care and wanted to leave, wanting to "shower", but he walked right into Gerard. Gerard didn't hesitate and pinned Patrick against the wall. "We need to fucking talk about this." Gerard growled. "About what?" Patrick asked, voice empty. Patrick smelled like her, he smelled like someone elses sweat and Gerard hated it. "What happened to you?" Gerard asked, trying to contain a steady voice. "You happened. We happened. and then she happened." Patrick took a shaky breath. "Don't act as if you never fucked anyone besides me. Don't act as if i ever meant anything to you, then only 2 months after we had sex, after i admitted that i liked you more than i should, you started to date that Veronica slut!" Veronica wasn't a slut, but she was beautiful, and that fucked Patrick off. "You never wanted me, you never cared about me, you just needed someone to practice with!" Gerard's chest tightened and his stomache started to hurt. "No, that's not true. I had a crush on you for years and you kept saying how we don't mean anything, since you're not into guys-" "But i was into you, Gerard! I was so fucking into you!" Gerard grabbed Patrick's face and pressed his lips against Patrick's. Those soft lips were so familair, but tasted so foreign, they tasted like whoever just walked out of the bus and that punched Gerard back into reality. Patrick kissed back, but in that moment, Gerard pulled back. "See? You can't even kiss me.." Patrick almost spat back. "You're right, i can't." Gerard's nails scratched along Patrick's neck, down to his chest, not wanting to let go, but having to. Gerard hoped to reveal the dirt under Patrick's skin, all the secrets, all of his true feelings, but he figured that neither of the both would want to see that. "I should leave," Gerard whispered. Patrick didn't say anything. He knew it would be the best option if he left. They would regret anything else. Gerard wanted to curl up in his bunk, but instead, stalked Patrick "showering", thinking about all the lips that kissed his skin, all the hands touching him, all the sweat stuck on him, All the kisses he owes, all the lovers,.. Gerard lost himself in the past, something he thought left behind is chasing him, and it get's faster and faster and even more beautiful then Gerard remembered. His pale skin wasn't even sweaty, it was so easy for him to get Gerard and there he was now, laying in bed, cuddling with a pillow, and thinking about Patrick and their past. It hurt, thinking about his past mistakes, he should have stayed with Patrick, but instead dated the first girl. That laid an eye on him and was willing to sleep with Gerard. Patrick and Gerard didn't talk for days, Patrick had no girls over, Gerard didn't talk to his ex girlfriend. He didn't forget her, he couldn't, but he didn't love her. He felt awful for never having really loved her, but how could he when Patrick was right in front of him? Gerard tried to talk to Patrick again, hoping he smelled like his own sweat this time. Patrick was only in his boxershorts. He smelled like himself and that relaxed Gerard. "What do you want?" Patrick asked annoyed. "You." Patrick was confused, but then he felt Gerard's lips and his body being pressed against Gerard's and it suddenly melted away, the past 4 years were gone, and all Patrick felt was the cold march air that tickled Patrick's neck that one evening in 2001. Patrick's hands formed on Gerard's waist, feeling the familair and cute chub Patrick missed so much. Maybe it was a mistake, but Patrick and Gerard slept together and it wasn't like their first time at all. It wasn't as awkward and unexperienced, It was angry but still loving. Gerard left so many hickies,and Patrick left so many bruises. Patrick made broken promises,Gerard needed to hear and Gerard held broken promises he made 4 years ago. It all made sense to Patrick, everything made sense, but he still didn't understand. Why they slept together, even though they didn't trust each other. in the next morning, they had to talk, they couldn't run away from it any longer. "i know i made mistakes in the past, and if i could, i would change the past," Gerard began, feeling nervous and trying to hold his tears back. Patrick interrupted him, by pulling him onto Patrick's lap. "Shut up and kiss me." Gerard hesitated but did as Patrick wanted. "I don't want to talk about it, for now,.. can't we just enjoy ourselves?" Patrick asked, blushing slightly. f Patrick only knew that Gerard got to know Lyn-Z only months after. It dragged Patrick down, as obvious, but not for long, then a beautiful young woman walked into Patrick's life and she made him happier than ever before. Patrick wasn't invited to Gerard's wedding, but he still invited Gerard to His' and Elisa's wedding. After all, they were more than friends. They were dumbasses who should've known better. the end// dndkdkekfkciekdjwdid ahhh feelings!!! Bejdjejfjdjcrjcj

Touch In The Night, Part 2

“I’m gay and so deep in the closet that Ikea is naming their next design after me”

Never before had Merel been this nervous for a show. Not when she played her very first gig, not when she’d been pacing around in the backstage before her first show with MaYaN, not when she’d been biting her nails before her first performance with Delain. She was dying. Her stomach felt like it could turn upside down any moment, every fiber of her body wanted to run away and scream at the same time. But none of those were actually an option. The intro music was already playing and Ruben was already on his way to his instrument on stage. Merel watched the drummer greeting the fans, his face and smile filled with confidence while she tried finding her own. Martijn followed the drummer’s example, greeting the fans with a smile before taking place behind the keyboard. Otto would be next. Not a single part of Merel wanted to see him –before, during, and definitely not after the show- but she still found herself looking up when the bassist passed her. Their eyes met, only a brief second, but the gaze was enough to bring the girl to the very verge of tears.

There was nowhere to run, no time for tears. The fans were waiting, shouting just as loud as Merel wanted to do as well. She wanted to shout at Otto, tell him to leave her the fuck alone and never tell anyone about what happened. Shout at Charlotte, to stop haunting her mind on every moment of the day. Shout at the world, just because life wasn’t fair. But instead she just wiped her tears away before they even had the chance to escape and took a deep breath. A warm hand was placed on her shoulder, and Merel died a little bit more on the inside when Charlotte’s scent reached her half a second later.

‘Go get ‘em, tiger.’

The smile Merel forced on her lips was more a reflex than anything else. It hurt deep inside, not only because soon her secret would be out but also because it was the complete opposite of what she wanted to do. And yet. With the fake smile still present she took her first step towards the stage, followed by another, and yet another. The lights were so bright they blinded the guitarist for a second, but she could clearly hear the crowd scream. They were shouting for her, they were here to see her, and she was not going to let the fans down. Anyone, even herself, but not the fans. And yet the show turned out to be one of the worst Merel ever played.

Every time her eyes met Charlotte’s, or when she noticed the singer looking even remotely at her direction, Merel had to fight her tears. Concerts would never be like this anymore. Once Charlotte knew about her secret everything would be different. No more teasing on stage, no more gentle pats on the head or silly faces. Otto would reveal everything, ruin everything, and it all was Merel’s own damn fault. If only she had been more careful, or if she’d been stronger, things wouldn’t be as bad as they were right now.

By the end of the show Merel was exhausted and hyper alert at the same time. Her mind was tired from the constant worrying, every muscle in her body ached from the stage work out and the tenseness of which she’d played. She was more than alert to not draw more attention than necessary. Once again she put on a smile when they all bowed together, so wide it physically hurt her face. The crowd was still cheering when she almost ran off the stage, completely ignoring the fans that begged for her guitar picks. She wasn’t going back, not today, maybe never again.

Merel didn’t want to face her bandmates again, none of them, even though she knew it would be impossible to avoid Otto. She handed her beloved guitar to one of the crewmembers, quickly grabbed all her belongings from the dressing room and ran outside towards the tourbus. There were no fans in sight yet, and Merel was more than happy about it. All she wanted to do now was disappear, and for a second she wondered if she would fit in the trunk of the bus with all their luggage. Unfortunately the door of the bus opened again before she even had the chance to finish the thought.

Otto walked in, the smell of concert sweat still surrounding him. Merel bit her lip as she looked at him and prepared herself to be hurt in every way possible.

‘Can you please stop looking so scared?’ The bass player asked. ‘I only want to talk.’

‘Are you going to tell Charlotte?’

‘Not if you tell me what’s going on. I’m pretty worried about you right now.’

‘Nothing.’ Merel answered, her voice shaking. ‘Nothing is going on. I’m gay and so deep in the closet that Ikea is naming their next design after me and I’m pretty much in love with Charlotte. Now you know my darkest secret and can ruin my life with it.’

‘I was already afraid you were going to say that.’

‘Say what?’

‘That you’re in love with Charlotte.’ Otto sighed. ‘Look, I get it. She’s beautiful, smart, and amazing in every way, but not with relationships. Please, don’t hurt yourself and stay away from her, don’t tell her you love her.’

‘Because she’s not into women?’

‘She is, for fun. I don’t know if she gay, bisexual or whatever, but she has been with women for fun. She “dated” them and threw them away when she got bored of them. She’s going to do the same with you, just like she did with Floor, Alissa, Tommy, Elize, Georg, Dianne…’

Merel looked at Otto while processing what he just said. She pictured Charlotte with everyone he’d just named, feeling the hairs in her neck stand up.

‘She has been with all of them?’

‘Always just for one tour.’ Otto confirmed. ‘Please, don’t become the next in line. I’m warning you, you will get hurt.’

1st things first. I know im shit at being online here but last week i went to go and see Hey Violet in Glasgow. It was my first Hey Violet show but like i’ve said over and over: Me and Hey Violet have known each other since 2012 (and i’ll get onto that more later).

But yeah we got into Glasgow about lunchtime and it took us an hour to find the hotel because we hadnt been to that part of Glasgow before as we are usually at the hotel by The Hydro as that’s where most concerts i’ve been to at Glasgow have been held. We knew where this venue was though because it was the same one that i saw The Pretty Reckless at in January. Anywhere we got into the queue at about 4PM as we had meet&greet which was supposed to be at 5:30PM but ended up being at 6:45PM (idk why still). This happened during possibly the hottest day of the year so far and there’s me wearing a fucking denim jacket and ripped jeans and a LGBT flag like a cape.

We saw Iain walking down the road not long after we got into the line and said hi to him and he seemed liked a pretty chill guy and said hi back. When it was time for us to get our VIP wristbands on though Miranda, Rena and Iain walked right past my best friend, my sister and I. I dont know why but it took me a minute to process that they had actually just walked by us so i was a bit late with the fangirling. After we waited for what seemed like ages, they came back again and gave us a little wave and said we could go in soon which got everyone excited.

When we went in Sheep (i think that’s his name) told us to line up against a wall and told us how the meet and greet was gonna work but idk if i heard wrong but im sure i heard him say that we couldnt give them any gifts which me and my sister just looked at each other and i said “wtf are we gonna do with these gifts now?” so my sister said “im just gonna try and give the bag to them and see what happens”. Keep in mind we had a giant disney bag with us so i was scared that it was gonna get taken off us or something. My sister went first out of us and handed the bag to Nia who was really excited and said something like “OMG thank you” (idk im half deaf) and then they took their pic. Then i was up next and i dont know why but i started shaking and to this day i still hate myself for it. I asked Miranda if i could get inbetween her and Nia since most people decided to be inbetween her and Rena. Miranda said “of course” and we took our pics and i said thanks really awkwardly and made my way to the merch table.

Their show was amazing. I loved the energy and the banter they had with each other and the crowd. I liked the fact that Rena as much of the stage as she could as well and even climbed on top of the speakers during Hoodie. It was great. Also Rena’s little attempt at during a scottish accent was cute af. The only problem i had with their show was that it was short AF. So im hoping they do another UK tour when their album is released.

Anyway after the show we went outside to wait on the band and see if they would come out. I think it took them about an hour and a half to come out which i didnt mind since i waited 3 hours for The Pretty Reckless to come out before.  Miranda and Jessarae who was their opening act came out first and because i saw her go to the tourbus first, i only saw her back. When she came back from the tourbus i freaked the fuck out because i saw that she was wearing the Kingdom Hearts shirt that me and my sister had given her. So when it was my turn to get a selfie and talk to miranda, i asked her if she liked the shirt which she said she did and also said she had to get Nia to help like adjust it so it would fit her which made me happy and i thanked her for the show and asked for a hug which she said sure. Then everyone else came outside except Rena. I think she was tired that night so she just stayed in the bus. I went to go and talk to Nia since most people went to talk to Iain and Casey.  Nia told me that she liked the Nine Inch Nails shirt that i got for her and we took a selfie together (i dont remember what else we talked about because it went really fast for me) and then i made my way over to Casey as my sister wanted a selfie with him since her phone died and she had finished talking and taking a pic with Miranda. I took her pic with casey and then MY phone died. We saw that there was basically no line for Nia and so i went with my sister to go back and talk to her which is when Nia said that she remembered us from years ago and being half deaf asked “wait did i just hear that you remembered us?” and Nia turned towards me and said “yeah of course i do, you’ve stuck with us through everything so thank you guys for that.” and then we had a talk about our old skype calls and laughed about them. Sheep then called for them to go back in the tourbus and Nia asked him to hang on for a second and asked if she could have a pic of me and my sister so of course we said yes and then she had to go because Sheep was getting inpatient.

But yeah seeing Hey Violet was probably one of the best experiences of my life and i would 100 percent go to another one of their shows. They just gotta announce another UK tour since London is too far away for me. (also adding my selfies if people do not believe me about what happened) ALSO IDK WHY MY FACE IS LIKE THAT IN MY PIC WITH MIRANDA, I WAS EXCITED TO MEET HER AND I LOVE HER LOTS. IM JUST NOT PHOTOGENTIC AND IM NOT ADDING THE ONE OF ME AND MY SISTER MEETING NIA BECAUSE I DONT KNOW HOW MY SISTER WOULD FEEL ABOUT ME PUTTING IT ON HERE.

flying at tree level (shalaska) - comeapart

a/n: i still don’t really know if i’m good at writing shalaska or if i should stick to writing long sad katlaska fics. if you liked it feel free to tell me. i live off of compliments

Alaska hadn’t seen it coming because she’d thought that they were in too good a place.

Sharon had just won drag race, and Alaska was in the strangely familiar middle ground between finding out if she had been rejected yet again or finally taken onto the show. Sharon was on her first real tour, one where she headlined, and she had brought Alaska with her. Things appeared to be looking up as far as Sharon’s success went, and although Alaska was happy for her, there was still a vague taste of resentment that she wasn’t good enough. She had put so much into her drag, reinventing everything each time Ru turned her down.

Now Sharon finally had control of the scene, and she had brought home not only bookings, but a crown and a cheque. She could shape their lives as she wanted, and she had the power and authority that Alaska could only dream of. Alaska was happy for her. She really was, because Sharon deserved to be successful. It was just that she did too.

She deserved to be happy. They were surrounded by fame, and everything that came with it. Sharon felt more on top of the world than ever before, and Alaska couldn’t keep up in the same way. Maybe that was why she did lines between herself and Sharon going on stage, so she would be just as good as her. That was why they were in the middle of Nashville with Sharon’s security, backstage at a bar that Alaska had already forgotten the name of.

As Alaska had grown, she’d learnt that happiness fluctuated on a daily basis, and sometimes working for it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Learning to love herself was an easy one with her boyfriend’s help, but happiness was fickle. It was a lot harder when Sharon was constantly happy, and didn’t need to drink as much, leaving Alaska behind in a rut.

Sharon was on stage, and Alaska had wanted cigarettes.

The logical thing to do was to ask security to go get them, but she was too drunk to care about logic and reason. She had let herself out of the back door, walked to the nearest store in the ridiculous high-heels that she had demanded Sharon buy for her and bought two packs, ignoring the way the lady was staring at her. So what if she was drunk at midnight and wanted cigarettes? Plenty of people did. She had been pretty sure that lots of people did, and if she wasn’t stumbling, she would’ve actually asked what her problem was.

It wasn’t until it was twenty minutes later and she was on a road she didn’t recognise that she finally admitted to herself she was lost. She got out her phone, checking her messages, and trying to find a signal for directions back to the bar that she couldn’t remember the name of.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Alaska blinked, looking up from her phone. She froze for a moment, pursing her lips and looking the man up and down. “What?”

“You’re on my property,” The man barked, taking a step towards Alaska and pointing at the fact her heel was ever so slightly on his lawn. Fucking Nashville.

“Sorry. I was just checking directions -”

“Yeah, I’m sure you fucking were,” The man hissed, and wow, Alaska had no idea why he was acting like this. If she was sober, she would’ve left it, or called the cops.

Instead, because she was drunk, the obvious answer was, “What is your fucking deal? What did I do?”

“You didn’t need to do anything, tranny,” He hissed, looking down at the lawn like he might set it on fire because he couldn’t stand the idea that Alaska had touched it. “You think we don’t know.”

“What?” Alaska turned around to face him properly, the alcohol making her sway. The drugs in her system made her a lot more confident, and it completely hid the nausea in her stomach and the way it made her want to die.

“You think we don’t know you’re a fucking fraud.”

“I’m not a fraud, girl,” Alaska said, clenching her jaw. She knew she wasn’t supposed to start fights, especially when she wasn’t at a club where security could pull a dude off of her. She was skinny. She wasn’t exactly built for fighting.

“Do you really think that dressing like a whore and forcing people to call you a different name means anything? Do you really think that changes who you are?” The man was way too close for comfort, and even though Alaska was wearing heels, the man was still taller than her. That was saying something, because Alaska is a giant. His voice was quieter than before, and Alaska was about to cry, because she knew what this was. He didn’t care if anybody else heard him. He just wanted to hurt Alaska. “Do you really think that this can exonerate you of the freakish person you are to be like this? To want to be like this?”

Alaska was about to cry. She knew it because she could feel tears in her eyes, like they were going to ruin everything. Normally, drag was her safe space, the thing that made her feel like she was real. She couldn’t think of anything to say, and she didn’t have anything that could fix the situation at hand. Nothing would be enough. She couldn’t stop looking at the man, waiting for him to stop his bigoted rant.

“Fucking disgusting, you are. I can’t believe they let your kind into our state.” The man spat, and she’s wasn’t going to cry. There were tears in her eyes, but instead, she threw the first punch.

The man stepped back, but didn’t seem to back down. There was blood on his face, lining the curve of his lip and falling from his nose, and Alaska had probably broken his nose. She couldn’t think of anything to say, but she knew when she started drag that there was only one important thing, and it was learning to run in heels. She wasn’t particularly fast though, and the man managed a good few hits on her before throwing her to the floor, spitting at her and leaving her bruised and bloodied on his front lawn. Typical.

The man went back into his house, and Alaska probably should’ve left, but instead she stayed down and thought about the cigarettes and how they weren’t worth the hassle.

Her phone was ringing and when she went to check it, it was Sharon, and she had been lying down for too long. It’s long past when Sharon’s show had ended, nearly four am, and her head was pounding. She doesn’t answer the call because she probably deserved this, and pulled herself up, stumbling barefoot and carrying the heels in the direction she had came from.

By the time she got back to the club, it was five am and she had figured out every single injury she received. She definitely had a split lip, and her eye is swollen up. She was pretty sure her eyebrow was split, or at very least bruised, and her wrist definitely didn’t feel good. It was dark and the streetlights weren’t on anymore, but there was moonlight and the tourbus that the Season Four girls traveled on and she knew she was in the right place.

“What happened?”

Alaska sucked in a breath, and didn’t look up. She was uncomfortable and her drag was probably ruined and her wig was almost definitely stuck together with her own dried blood.

“What the fuck happened, Justin?” Sharon said louder, but there was no malice behind her voice. There were hands on Alaska and there were definitely more people than just Sharon leading her onto the bus, but she didn’t hear what they were saying, because all she could hear were her own thoughts. She felt like there wasn’t enough room inside of herself for all of the things she was thinking.

After pretty much everyone except Sharon and Michelle left, Sharon was speaking to Alaska, and she wasn’t hearing anything. Nothing got through to her until Sharon touched her cheek, bringing her back to reality and smiling when she saw Alaska start to respond. Alaska didn’t deserve her famous girlfriend.

“I asked if you were okay,” Sharon said softly, like she wanted Alaska to tell her exactly what went down so she could exact her revenge or maybe call the cops, but Alaska was too tired and hazy to know what to say.

“I’m good. I think my tights have runs in them,” Alaska offered, swallowing the anxiety in her throat and looking down. Sharon’s wearing the shirt that Alaska bought her in Chicago, for an anniversary. Sharon laughed quietly, shaking her head and stroking over the cut on her cheek carefully. Alaska didn’t pull away.

“You have to stop getting into fights. Or at least answer your damn cellphone. I pay too much money for your contract to have you blank my calls, Miss Thunderfuck,” Sharon sighed, moving her hand so that Michelle could swipe disinfectant over the open wounds and use plasters to keep the split skin together enough to heal. Alaska pouted up at her, and Sharon just shook her head. “Seriously, Justin. You got me so worried. I was trying to find you all night.”

“Sorry,” Alaska mumbled, reaching up and wrapping her arms around her waist and trying to pull her down. Sharon resisted, because she wasn’t about to sit on Alaska’s lap when she was hurt, but instead sat besides her, letting her cuddle up. “I started a fight because a guy was being a dick.”

“Yeah? What was he doing?”

“He was being a dick because I was in full drag and lost and alone and he was a homophobe. But I got him good, y’know,” Alaska whined as Michelle cleaned her eyebrow, pressing her head against Sharon’s shoulder in discomfort, “I think I broke his nose. If I didn’t, then he probably has a bruise. I’m pretty sure it broke, though. I felt it.”

Realistically, that wasn’t what was on her mind. It was the feelings of not being good enough, the feelings of not being accepted. She didn’t say anything else, just closed her eyes and let Michelle clean her up, and twitched when Sharon tried to get her makeup off. It wasn’t ideal to sleep in full drag, but Alaska hurt too much to let Sharon take off the inch of foundation that caked her face, so she settled on sleeping on her towel instead of the pillow and cuddling up closer than she would usually to her boyfriend.

She was nearly asleep when she heard Sharon mumble something, but her ears weren’t working properly, and she just blinked, eyes begging for her to repeat it so that she didn’t have to ask.

“I said I love you.”

“Oh. I love you too, Noodles,” Alaska smiled, immediately regretting the decision as her lip split open again. Sharon just shook her head, kissing her forehead carefully and smiling ever so slightly.

“I was talking to Michelle about season five.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You might want to check your emails sometime, I hear they emailed the applicants last night.”

“Oh. I didn’t get in again.”

Sharon just stared at her, raising her brows and pursing her lips. “Baby, why would I tell you if you didn’t get in?”

“Shut the fuck up, it’s a sin to lie. Not only is it a sin, but it’s rude and mean and I hate you… Did I really get in?” Alaska smiled tiredly, her eyes heavy as she looked up at Sharon.

“Yeah, and I didn’t even pull any strings. But, uh, you aren’t allowed to talk about it. You’re going to have to sign a NDA. Like how I did.”

“Like how you broke it and told me everything as soon as you got back?”

“How was I supposed to keep it from you? You were crying so hard because you thought I had left on the first episode and threatening to kill Chad Michaels.”

“Fuck you, I was worried. Am I not allowed to be worried? You’re my talented evil boyfriend.”

“Baby, your lip is bleeding again,” Sharon mumbled, wiping away the blood with her thumb before smiling. “I’m just saying. You can probably get away with telling me because I was already won, but you can’t go telling all of the other girls.”

“Wasn’t gonna. They’ll probably figure out when I have to cancel all of my shows, though. Maybe you can tell everyone I have the flu or something,” Alaska rolled her eyes

As she was about to fall asleep, Alaska realised that she was in a pretty good place. They were in a good place. She was good enough for Ru, but more importantly, she was good enough for Sharon. They were part of a movement, and if that meant avoiding fights for long enough to look good on TV and prove herself to the world, she would deal with it.

When people criticise what I post…

Your authentic native American experience

The first thing Joseph Lau noticed about the natives was that they were faking it. As soon as he entered the reservation on the ‘Great Native America’ tourbus and they bounced down potholed and unpaved roads he could feel it all around him. Even the skintones of the natives looked faked, the wrong shade in the bright sun, like old movies where they just slapped on makeup rather than employ anyone of the right ethnicity. Or maybe it was because, as Lau looked down from the coach, it took one to know one. He could relate to the poor figures down below trying to eke a living out of their grandparents lost identity, trapped between two cultures, neither of which they belonged to. he’d lived that life for the last two decades of his life. Pretending to be someone else just so he would fit in. Speaking the right way had got him through school, had got him into a good College with good prospects. and now it had brought him to a cheesy Native American tour where he could watch his own heritage be prostituted before him. 

 Their guide, an obnoxious local who either didn’t know or didn’t care that he was about as authentically native as an extra in a movie, was droning on as they piled out of the bus, blinking in the light and feeling self conscious surrounded by natives.

“….and later we’re gonna show you a beautiful show. Local girls, local dancing. Real traditional stuff. You’re gonna love it okay?”

The guide’s voice caught in Lau’s ear. Maybe it was because the guys accent was such a crude attempt at the language Lau had grown up with from his grandmother or because it reminded him how badly he spoke native himself. Mainly though because he knew it was fake, firstly it wasn’t how native people spoke, and secondly he was a hundred percent sure the guide knew and it didn’t care. he knew what the tourists wanted and it wasn’t reality.

Lau stared around the traditional village, where various hideous stereotyped natives stared back, all waiting to be snapped by the tourists. The tourists would then buy themselves some locally made shit and then get the bus back home again, telling themselves that they’d touched something deep in the heart of America that went back hundreds of years.

“but first” the guide was saying, pointing them towards the traditional eatery that Lau knew with dread certainty would sell him a bland and homogenised version of native food and nothing like what his old departed grandmother could make “time for a spot of lunch, at the good old traditional restaurant”

It was a Macdonalds. But as Lau surveyed the pale sad eyed creatures dressed up like MAGA hatted rednecks and hipsters in beards, leather clad imitation rockers and ladies dressed like Jackie K, he realised that it was probably the most authentically American  thing there.

 Lau  hadn’t been born when the joint Indo-chinese pacification mission had started, neither in fact was his mother. But his grandmother did, and she would regale them in their cramped Hong Kong apartment when he was a kid.

“sure, they had their excuses” she would say, her voice gravelly and her accent harsh to the ear. Lau had grown up speaking English but switched to Cantonese whenever he could. He might not have been able to hide the pale midwestern look he’d inherited from his Euro ancestry but so long as he could curse in Cantonese  then he could at least fit in “blaming us for climate change and for Trump and for the nuclear strike. But that weren’t our fault” she would glare at Lau and his brothers, as if they were going to blame her for the many crimes of successive American administrations “and yeah, there was kinda a civil war. But that weren’t no reason to send in the troops. It was just cause they wanted our stuff. Patents and that kind of thing”

This meant little, of course, to Lau. And it was only after his grandmother’s death that he guiltily began to research his own past and the past of his country. That was what had made him book the holiday back to the old country, and on a tour of the reservation. There, he had been reliably informed, he would find the authentic connection with his people he was so lacking.

After they had eaten at the Mcdonalds there was a beauty pageant at the town hall. On the walk from the diner to the town hall they’d been treated to a performance of traditional American racism, where a red faced obese man had given them a tirade about Mexican rapists peppered with drops of the N bomb. Several of the tour party had argued back, either not realising it was faked up or else hamming it up for their social media feeds. These were the kind of guys – and they were always guys – that Lau knew would pay a bit extra to stay the night. They’d go to a bar and pick a fight with some poor asshole who’d probably been slipped some lolcoin in order to get knocked about a bit. Then they’d pick up some blonds with shining teeth and take back to their hotel rooms. Blonds who’d be instantly impressed with these brown skinned guys and they’d shyly say they’d never been with no one who wasn’t a white Christian and say, weren’t they awfully exotic? Course in the morning they’d be paid in the same way as the sap they’d got into the fight with. The worst part of that, thought Lau as he watched the racist go through the rest of his rant about the pacification campaign, was that with rampant  unemployment there were probably men and women queueing up to have their bodies abused for foreign cash.

“…..gonna rise again, and kick out the foreign libtards taking over our fair country” finished the racist “I’m callin’ my senator!” he finished, which got a big laugh out of the crowd. Everyone knew the Washington government was a sham, kept in place purely to nod through whatever laws Beijing wanted passed.

It was during the stripshow slash stars and stripes military parade that Lau realised he’d had enough. Watching some poor reservation girl practically goose stepping across the stage wearing almost nothing while carrying an M16 rifle made him physically sick. With an excuse to the guys next to him – fellow students from Hong Kong U on their spring break – he stumbled to the exit. He stood outside in the back ally of the stripjoint, breathing heavily. The heady aroma of meatloaf and mack and cheese just made him miss his grandmother. Knowing that both these dishes would have  been heavily spiced to appeal to the Asian tastes of the tourists  just made things worse.

“Jesus, why the fuck did I come here?” he said to himself, his eyes squeezed shut.

“to get in touch with your roots” Lau’s eyes shot open and he looked across the alley. In the bright daylight that had followed the neon dark of the club he hadn’t spotted the guy perched opposite on top of a bin. The first thing Lau noticed was that the guy was speaking the kind of American that his grandmother had. The second was that the guy was dressed in jeans and tshirt without any obvious agenda besides a normal Saturday afternoon. The third was that he wasn’t wearing that stupid fake colouring that the rest of the town seemed to be, a fake skin whitening because tourists didn’t get that most Americans were some shade of brown because demographics change and movie representation didn’t.

“how’d you know?” asked Lau suspiciously, aware of the cantonise lilt to his accent and hating himself for it.

“you got the look” said the guy. He looked partly African American, which wasn’t really the reservation tour that Lau had paid for. If he had paid extra then he could have taken a coach to the nearest city where various stereotypes of black American would have played out. There’d be fake shootings and even faker rap battles. There’s be some fake civil right black consciousness stuff because these days Nigerian and Congan tourists were the biggest spenders, almost edging out the Chinese and the Indians “like you’re looking for something you can’t name”

“yeah, well I don’t think I’m going to find it here” agreed Lau, looking back at the nightclub. He couldn’t tell if it was deliberately seedy or whether it was just because the reservation was poor. Since the Pacification Campaign those who had refused to accept the rule of the UN peacekeeping mission, or who had a history of causing trouble, had been decanted to specified zones ‘for their own protection’. That these zones happened to be in the worst areas, with the highest unemployment and worst quality of life was, of course, merely a coincidence.

“too true” said the guy, throwing a cigarette butt into the gutter. Lau, ever the expert, could tell from the aroma that it was a pre ban Marlboro. Illegal in most parts of Asia but still smoked by those Americans who rejected the humiliation of the peace accords that had ended the Pacification Campaign “well, if you work out that what you’re looking for is real Americans” he said, sliding off the trash can and landing on his Nikes “come and see my buddies in the Old Deplorable  bar off of main” a shimmering map hung in the air for a moment as the guy shared the details with Lau’s digital glasses “but if all you’re looking for is MAGA assholes and big titted blondes then don’t waste my time, okay?”

 The bar was low and long, but not sleazy. Or at least it wasn’t Lau’s idea of sleazy. He’d seen enough movies to know what he should be expecting was all neon and darkened corners, bikers and truckers in low pulled hats and women who were part time strippers. the Old Deplorable was instead decnelty clean, with beers on tap and food that looked like it was made from ingredient grown in the fields around the town. Fliers for bands and fund raising events plastered the walls by the entrance and the last cakes of a bake sale were hardening in the sunshine.

“guess this wasn’t what you expected” said a voice from his right, and Lau turned to see the  guy from the alley and a light brown girl in  trucking coveralls sitting in the corner at a table lovingly recycled from old machine parts.

“umm, well..” said Lau nervously

“if you want the dive bar where some redneck’ll pretend to fight you if you pay him twenty dollars you’ll have to go down the street” said the girl

“I just wanna have a drink” confessed Lau “you know, in a place where it’s not like fucking Disneyland”

“they only speak Hindi in Disneyland” observed the girl “got bought out for nothing by Bollywood. Mickey Mouse does them dance routines now”

“you’re welcome here so long as you don’t start expecting us to act like dumb natives” said the guy, gesturing for Lau to sit. He collected a beer from the bearded landlord who retreated back to a muttered conversation and then Lau sat down “and we don’t wanna be part of no saviour narrative either. We aren’t charity cases waiting for some guy from the east to come and rescue us”

“I’m not here to save anyone” said Lau

“so what are you here for?” asked the girl, looking at him harshly

Lau opened his mouth, then sighed and opened his hands “I don’t know. Heritage I guess”

“heritage?” echoed the girl, her eyes narrowing

“I’m half American” he explained “on my mothers side. Grew up in Hong Kong” he felt the girsl hostility burning into him “and yeah, every day I was growing up everyone kept reminding me how I was American and they treated me like shit and so I yearned. I fucking yearned to be able to have other people of my culture to hang out with. So now I’m here and I see a bunch of people play acting americans who see me as nothing but  a walking wallet, and you guys” he hunched his shoulder “you guys treat me like I’m just some fuckming Chinese” he didn’t realise his volume had gone up, nor that his accent had gone more cantonese with fury. Both left an embarrassing taste in Lau’s mouth.

“hey, don’t worry” said the guy “we know your’re one us” he leaned forward, preffering his hand “I’m Vincent, this is Lina. She comes on strong cause she doesn’t want people to know she’s Mexican on her dad’s side”

“Joe” said Lau, shaking the guys hand. Reluctantly Lina did the same  “Joe Lau”

“welcome to America” said Vincent, smiling ironically “what do you think of it so far?”

“I think my grandmother wouldn’t recognise it” said Lau “but I think that there’s still a place like this” he gestured at the bar, at the multi-ethnic groups drinking at the bar “makes me thinking that not everyone wants to live like victims” he looked onto the main street where two people dressed as comic interpretation for polticians past were mud wrestling to the cheers of the tourists “but I guess it can’t be easy when you’ve got Chinese drones watching your every move”

“there are ways around them” said  Lina “if you know what to do”

“and like you said, we aren’t cool with always being victims” added Vincent “you’d be amazed how many ways there are to strike back. If you know what I mean”

“so, what you guys are terrorists?” said Lau, almost as a joke. Of course he’d heard that there were militants still holed up around the US, fighting the good fight against the pacification accords. But considering that most of these bunker dwelling survivalists offered tours of their hideouts and a chance to pose for photos with a range of weapons from their private arsenals he had assumed they were as fake as the big breasted blondes.

“no dude, come on” said Vincent, wincing at Lau and looking around the bar. Considering the fact that the bar had a combination of cultures and ethnicities Lau knew there wasn’t much chance of their being any tourists to hear. And since the reservation had its own police force who were more famously corrupt even than the almost mythical LAPD he doubted they would bother to take an interest “we’re freedom fighters. We’re the good guys”

“war never ended” said Lina, and Lau noticed that under her coveralls she wore a stars and stripes Tshirt. No doubt she earned a wage from the despised tourists too, her Nollywood themed tshirt. “it just went underground”

“sure, look I just didn’t it was for real” confessed Lau, holding his craft beer tightly “cause I’ve never heard of any attacks in California…”

“course you haven’t heard anything” scoffed Vincent “occupation authorities are fucking assholes but they aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t let it get out that we bombed the Napa Valley power supply. Or that we got people who can take out R05 drones…”

Lau tried not to show scepticism. The latest generation of PLA drone was meant to be invincible, but then again he had heard rumours of them malfunctioning. However he’d out that down to the usual incompetence of Beijing’s military industrial complex. The latest princeling in charge of the PLA’s procurements wing had grown up in Hong Kong and whilst he’d Inherited the family connections he hadn’t inherited their smarts.

“don’t believe him?” said Lina, looking around before flipping out an antique Apple device. This wasn’t the reskinned android that the tourists bought up for a few lolcoins apiece so they could pretend to be ragetweeting or selfying themselves in the sunset “look at this”

She tapped the screen, showing a slightly fuzzy picture beloved of terrorists since the dawn of social media. A lumbering mechdrone that Lau assumed was the R05 near a traffic patrol somewhere in the north. The camera then panned to some heavily disguised figures, one of whom threw an ultralight drone dart into the air. It flew gracefully towards the massive R05, a tiny gnat against a great big elephant. There was a pulse of white that momentarily knocked out the camera. When it came back on the R05 was on fire and the other terrorists were laughing and high fiving each other.

Lau wanted to say that he could have used the cheapest walking recognition software on his glasses to track down the terrorists  involved, and that the video was admissible evidence that could have had them all gulagged to Arizona. But Lau didn’t, because he felt something he’d been wanting for a long time. A cause. Suddenly he needed to be part of this group. To do whatever he could, however humble, to help them in their impossible aim.

“you see” said vincent softly “we can take the battle to them. We can fight back”

“you don’t expect….” Began Lau, feeling foolish “you don’t expect to win, do you? I mean, it’s the two biggest and most powerful nations in the world – you know like nearly three billion people – against, what two hundred and fifty odd million of you?”

“that’s what they said in 1776” said Vincent “and they were wrong then”

“US war of independence” said the girl helpfully

“Yeah, yeah I know” said Lau, who remembered his grandmother going on about it but couldn’t remember whether it was the one the Americans had fought in Europe and been the good guys, or any of the others where they had been the bad guys “just, look, be realistic…”

“Vietcong” Lina said quietly “nation that was tiny, and poor versus the biggest, most advanced country in the world. USA poured billions of dollars and thousands of lives into that conflict, declared victory more times that anyone could count. But the Vietnamese won. Because they didn’t give up. Because they didn’t listen when unbelievers like you said it couldn’t be done. We just need patience”

“and resources” said Vincent, folding his arms “it isn’t cheap to make dronekillers like that. It isn’t easy to keep fighting back against the two biggest superpowers in the world. They’ve got resources that we could never dream of. All we’ve got on our side is guts, and the fact that we know we’re right” Vincent shook his head sadly.

Lau looked from Vincent to Lina, seeing the look on their faces. But it wasn’t despair, it wasn’t lack of hope. It was determination. Lau thought about how they’d given their lives to something bigger, for sure something that could end up with them in a prison camp or a re-education centre, sewing shirts for the masses to wear in Bangalore. But they knew what they wanted, and more importantly they knew who they were. Neither of these were things that Lau could say about himself, and he’d travelled five thousand miles and spent lolcoin these people would never see in their lives in a self indulgent search for something he saw now he could never attain. Or maybe he could.

“you need resources, right?” he said slowly, looking from one to the other “you mean money, yes?”

“listen buddy, we’re not a charity” said Lina “you want that you can donate to the kids school here so they don’t have to learn from E-books programmed in New Delhi“

“no, no” said Lau “look, I want to help. I’d be an American citizen right now if it was possible. My mom’s family is full blood native. Whole fucking reason we live in Hong Kong is because of the pacification campaign….”

“war of occupation you mean” said Lina sternly and Lau cursed inwardly at the faux pas

“sure, yes. Sorry” said Lau “but my whole life….I’ve wanted to do something. I’m not here to…” he raised up his hands, thinking of the other tourists “to watch some pretend racist show or buy a Mcdonalds and drink coca cola. I came here to, I don’t know, find my roots. Find out what it means to be an American”

“and did you?” said Vincent ironically

“no” said Lau “no, I don’t think so. But helping out you people. Trying to do something to end this… freak show we’ve been reduced to. Playing shows of dumb Americans to even dumber tourists isn’t just embarrassing its unbearable” he pressed his lips together and sighed “look, some day I’ll probably have kids. And I’m gonna have to explain their heritage to them. What do I say? That the USA is a puppet state occupied by foreign soldiers? That it’s a place that used to be the rolemodel for the world and its now just a glorified themepark?” he shook his head “I don’t think I can do that. I can’t just tell them I did nothing, because yeah, I’ll be honest. I don’t know if you got a chance in hell of ever succeeding. But I guess that’s not the point, is it? It’s better to die on your feet that live on your knees” he looked at the table suddenly embarrassed to have given the sort of speech he fast forwarded through in movies “I think I read that somewhere, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have the right…”

“no. you know what you are?” said Lina her face inscrutable “you’re a real American patriot. Could do with more like you” she looked around the bar “lot of folks here have just given up. Ready to take foreign lolcoin and don’t care what it costs the rest of us”

“I think you can help, you know” said Vincent “if you’re willing that is”

“you guys are risking your lives” said Lau “and I’m heading back to the airport tomorrow. Just tell me what I need to do” he gulped “you know, that ticket. I can cash it in. I can stay and fight…”

“dude” said Vincent, looking him in the eye “that’s a big commitment for sure. But we got fighters already. We got way bigger plans than that for you”

 The next day dawned, wide and bright. Lau avoided the trip to the local survivalist bunker for the weapons display and instead met with Vincent on the edge of the reservation where the WIFI signal was strong enough and encrypted enough for Lau to set up access for Vincent to the accounts he held in Hong Kong.

“we got fighters coming out of our ears” Vincent had said back in the bar  “every kid grows up wanting to be a freedom fighter and can’t get jobs. So unless you got PLA skills…” Lau shook his head “we don’t need more raw recruits, no offense”

“none taken” Lau responded

“but what we do need is contacts. We need people overseas to help our cause” Vincent had leaned in closer “and we need you to be running that. Funnelling cash and convincing anyone back your end that the struggle isn’t over”

“money” Lau had said, visions of himself like Jefferson in Paris (grandmother had shown him a documentary and forced him to watch it to the end) raising money and being the centre of the resistance overseas “now that is something I can do”

“I can come back” lau said as Vincent drove his ancient Tesla back to the reservation town “next year maybe. I can get army training like that” he snapped his fingers “PLA is always looking for people to sign up for cyberwar training. I can be your man on the inside, they’re begging for American speakers…”

“yeah, that might not be the best idea” said Vincent “we need you over there, but we can’t have too much contact over here. If you know what I mean. Too much of a risk”

“yeah” said Lau, nodding as he recalled guerrilla warfare lessons he’d had to learn about at school when they did the history of the revolution. Mao would never have triumphed if he hadn't been cunning “we have to be smart”

“see” said vincent, a broad grin on his face “I knew you were the right guy for the job” he looked at the tourists as they started to board the coach in the middle distance “jesus, would you look at these assholes?” he shook his head “you’re a better man than me. Don’t think I could stand to listen to them thinking they know who we are”

“I’ve had to listen to them all my life” said Lau, grabbing his bag as the car slowed “you learn to blank them out, after a while” he looked at Vincent “and, you know, knowing I’m doing something to change things. No matter how small”

“sure thing” said Vincent, and gave a secret little salute. Lau exited the vehicle and jogged slowly towards the coach. As he stepped up he gave one last look around the town, at the poor beaten down people he had sworn to help liberate. He nodded once to Vincent and then got on board the coach. A sense of resolution in his chest, a certainty that now his life had a direction. He didn’t look back at the town. He didn’t need to.

However had he looked back he would have seen, getting into the passenger seat of the tesla, the guide whom he so hated the day before.

“so, how much you get from him?”

“coupla thousand lolcoin now, he’s gonna wire through a monthly amount. Says he’s gonna raise it through his college campus”

“Shit, what con did you use this time?” asked the guide “no, lemme guess. The old ‘Join the resistance’ schtick, right? Got your pal Lina to help out?”

Vincent nodded

“showed him that fake video, right?” said the guide “one the Anderson kids put together for their school project?”

“still had to talk the guy round. Took me and Lina, like, two hours to lay the groundwork” Vincent looked annoyed “and it was me who spotted he had American heritage. Had to do a lot of improv stuff, you know?”

“sure, you’re an artist” said the guide with a laugh “you saving up for Bollywood auditions?”

“hell, we get more  rubes like that thinking this is fucking Red Dawn then I can pay for business class to Mumbai” said Vincent bitterly “Jesus, at least the other foreigners you can satisfy with a  cheeseburger or a handjob. They know what the score is and don’t give a fuck that its fake. These guys want to play the big Asian saviour like Li Mao or Tony Iskander in Bullets in the Bronx” he pulled out a Chinese cigarette from his pocket. He only smoked American for the tourists “Like we’re dumb enough to try and fight those occupation bastards after the rinsing we got last time. Guys like that think they’re doing us a favour by coming here”

“well, I guess they are” said the guide tartly as the coach vanished around the corner. There’d be another in an hour, filled with rubes ready to be rolled for their cash “cause instead of blowing that lolcoin on guns and killing we spend it on getting our kids educated so they don’t have to spend their lives on this fuckin rez shilling for dumbass tourists. For that I’d pretend to be Patrick Swayze”