"This is Chuck. Leave a message and I might listen to it."

BEEP!

Someone was kissing him.

It was weird to be woken up by someone kissing him. Not completely unheard of, but it didn't happen often. That was surprising enough. Cracking an eye open to see a hot blond that he had never seen before sitting on top of him when he was sure that he had gone to sleep sober? That was unheard of.

"Uh." He wasn't very eloquent in the morning, even less so when suffering from a bruised jaw, nose and a black eye.

The blond didn't seem to mind. She smiled brightly at him and gave him another small kiss before speaking. She was obviously taking extreme care not to put Chuck in any pain. "Morning, Chuck!"

"Uh..."

[Establishyyyyyy]

Chuck hated the clinic but even he had to admit that it had been a while since he gotten the shit beaten out of him to this extent. He probably needed someone to look at him and, well, who better than his bitch?

So he found himself laying on Sam's bed, dabbing blood off his face with one of the shirts he didn't really care about anyway, and waiting for Sam to get back from class.

[For he whose bed this is...annnnnnnd then for someone else after Chuck goes back to his own alcove :) ]

If Chuck was awake he'd be in a lot of pain right now. He had a pretty high tolerance but even he had his limits and last night he was close to hitting them. He was going to lay off the brownies for a while. The brownies, not the weed. He wasn't that sick.

He didn't have high hopes for the dinner party, especially after the weird afternoon he had. Considering the massive hangover he was going to wake up with, he had been wrong. Too bad he didn't know where that Rachel chick lived. Too bad that if he did know he wouldn't be able to get up to find her.

With a slight groan Chuck covered his head with his pillow to block out the sunlight and fell back asleep. He'll be here for the rest of the day, thanks.

[Linkdroppy but open, sure]

It has been decided on Twitter that y'all should know more about your admins. So I have complied a post with facts about us.

All of these are true. I'm serious.

( MP )

( Pard )

( Katie )

( Len )

( Tracy )

( Lainey )

( Sam )

The list keeps growing, I swear. Luckily a lot of it is copy and paste.

( Marion Ravenwood )

( Marshall Eriksen )

( Meg Manning )

( Dick Casablancas )

( Emmett Cullen )

( Lois Lane )

( Chuck Bass )

( Tim Riggins )

( And meee )

Contrary to popular belief, Chuck wasn't completely useless. He did have a talent or two that doesn't take place in the bedroom. He happened to be a damned good businessman when he really put his mind to it. Sure, he was no Bart Bass yet but for a seventeen year old he had a pretty impressive head for finances and could spot a good investment when he saw one. Right now he saw one. He had done the research, had all the steps to getting what he wanted in order and now was currently working on the hardest step of them all: convincing daddy to put money into what he wanted to buy.

This involved drawing up a business plan (which is what he was doing now) and not getting into trouble until he got what he wanted. The last part was harder than you think it would be.

He occasionally looked up from his laptop to where Blair was laying and was toying with the idea of going collar shopping. That'd be pretty kinky.

[For the fox, please]

Chuck had known this was a bad idea. Known it, accepted that and did it anyway. He figured it was either call his father on Father's Day and put himself through a lecture or ignore it and have his father bring it up sometime in the future when he needed to cite Chuck's irresponsibility (though, granted, he could have probably come up with much more useful instances of this). Chuck didn't have anything better to do, really, and he always had a masochistic streak so he decided to man up and call his dad.

"Is this important?" was the immediate answer after only a couple rings.

Chuck thought about this for a second. "Not really?"

"I'm busy, Chuck," Bart said, sounding more exhasperated than Chuck was sure he really was. "Whatever it is you want, write a check and I'll put more money in your account later."

There was a loud click as Bart hung up and Chuck was left staring at the phone a little blankly. "Oh-kay then."

[Oh, the daddy issues. Door's closed but the post is open]

Chuck had drank way too many of those girly shots last night. So many that even though it was after noon, he was still kind of drunk. The fact that he was actively trying to check to see if his tongue was still blue from the drinks kind of gave it away. Yep. Still blue.

He was going to have a terrible hangover later and he really should start drinking water to head it off. Later. Right now he was going to pull the covers over his head, roll over and...fall off the bed.

"Ow." That wasn't very smooth.

"Shut up you stupid squirrels," Chuck mumbled. Because he knew they were there. Oh, they were there.

Maybe he'd just lay here and fall back asleep. Getting back on the bed seemed like an awful lot of effort.

[Look, I have new icons and, my god, I'm gonna use them. The post is open, sure]

Both Chuck and Angela had been having a shitty couple of days and naturally the only logical solution to curing that was by drinking a lot. And, wouldn't you know it, Chuck had his own club to do just that. A club away from Fandom, the people they were avoiding and the squirrels. Oh, and there were half-naked chicks dancing around. That was a plus.

"I should tell you that the last time I brought someone from Fandom here I ended up in jail," Chuck said as he led Angela to one of the couches in front of the stage. "I'd like to break that tradition so try to refrain from pulling a Sam and starting a bar fight."

[For the girl with him if you please. NFB due to distance]

Chuck had thought he was so smart bringing an umbrella with him during the fire drill and was actually having a good time with the whole thing and talking to everybody when they looked like drowned rats. He would not be confessing how hot he found his sister when she was soaking wet to Father Winchester, holy god.

And then he had to go ruin it all by talking to Blair. Chuck should have known better than to take Sam's advice. Look how he dressed.

He hadn't gotten much, if any, sleep since he got back in from the fire drill but he also hadn't left his bed. Actually he was buried pretty deep under his covers emoing brooding thinking intently. Occasionally his hand would poke out to grab the glass of scotch on his bedside table to get a quick drink but for the most part he was acting like some sort of emo blanket monster.

[The door's closed but the post is open. Chuck's inna mood but that's never stopped you people before, now has it?]

Wednesday had been good. Really good. Yesterday morning had started off great too (holy crap, Francine had nice boobs). Then he just haaaaaaaad to go see Blair. Granted, that had started off nice too but ended badly. Chuck had gone to bed frustrated in more than one way and he didn't feel any better when he woke up on Friday. So now he was laying in bed with a glass of scotch (a glass he almost dropped when he got yelled at while listening to the radio podcast). The TV was on now but he was too annoyed to actually pay attention to what was on.

Being pissed off and horny was a terrible combination.

[Linkdroppy but the door's knockable though he's liable to either yell at you or jump you...or both]

After playing listener yesterday Chuck was very glad to have a more relaxed day today. He hadn't seen much of a reason to change out of his kilt yet. It was pretty comfortable, after all. The reactions he had gotten in class were priceless. Had he known Sam had a kilt kink he would have worn one waaaaaay before. Still, he wasn't going to make a habit of this. Really not his style.

He was still wearing it now though as he was channel surfing. He occasionally blew air up to get his messy bangs out of his face. How does Nate do it?

[Linkdroppy but door and post are open]

Chuck by no means had a lot of experience to compare to but if he had to venture a guess he would say that his date with Valentine went pretty well. He had fun and he got to spend money (always one of his favorite hobbies) and judging from last night's radio broadcast, she had fun too. Good. Nice to know that he could totally not fail at the boyfriend thing if he really tried at it.

Not that it meant he actually wanted to try.

Satisfied that he was actually doing well in a class, he decided to spend his day doing...well, nothing. This consisted of catching up on the Real Housewives of New Jersey on TV. He loved those crazy bitches.

[Door and post are open yo. Expect some SP in the afternoon]

As much as Chuck hated to admit it, he was gonna miss having Sam right next door to yell at when he was bored. Sure, they were right down the hall from each other every other day but it wasn't within yelling distance and Chuck was a lazy, lazy person. Since they moved out on Monday he decided to make the most out of cabin life and have an impromptu slumber party get together. Really the only thing he had to do to get ready for it was stop by the liquor store and put on pajamas.

He stepped into Sam's alcove with a six pack of beer in one hand (for Sam) and a bottle of tequila in another (for himself). He used the hand holding the tequila bottle to make a moving motion. "Scoot over."

[For Sam please]

For some it might have been a little early to be drinking scotch and staring broodily at the wall. It was early, even by Chuck Bass standards, but today was special. It was his birthday and, due to that, the same day his mother died. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to forget or to not make a big deal of. If by some miracle he had managed that, he would always have the inevitable phone call from his father to remind him. One thing Chuck could say about Bart, he never did forget dates. He also never forgot to add in a seemingly innocent statement or two about Chuck's mother that would make Chuck feel guilty all over again. Chuck knew he did it on purpose. Chuck took away his wife and Bart got revenge by making his son feel like a murderer.

Chuck's eyes trailed over to his dresser drawer where the framed picture of his mother was sitting and frowned. The fact that he brought it from the dorms to put in the cabin was a testament to his own masochistic streak. Maybe deep down he liked feeling this guilty. Well, not liked it per se, but felt it was deserved. Who knows, maybe he did kill her. His actions since then certainly haven't helped defend his innocence.

He knew he was going to feel better later in the day for his party. Really feel better and not just faking it for the sake of Blair and Eric. It was his birthday after all and that meant everybody had to pay attention to him and, really, that's always what Chuck wanted. Right now though he was going to sit and think. And drink few more glasses of scotch because, you know, that actually helped things. Really.

[For that floppy haired Winchester if you please. That Chuck's brooding is fine for broadcast but what about specifically is NFB]

Chuck was never much for this cabin thing but he figured he'd make the best of what he had. What he had was a cabin full of girls and a Sam to bother whenever he wanted. That was a plus. He had managed to move his own stuff out with little trouble (and god, was he going to be treating the hired help back home better for at least a week or two when he got back) and was getting to organizing the room to his liking.

But first he needed to rifle through his back to find a joint or a flask or something. You needed to be under the influence of something to unpack all this crap.

[Expecting a couple but can be open for others]

And the rest! The list keeps growing, I swear. Luckily a lot of it is copy and paste. Let's do this.

( Marion Ravenwood )

( Marshall Eriksen )

( Meg Manning )

( Dick Casablancas )

( Emmett Cullen )

( Lois Lane )

( Chuck Bass )

( And meee )

Chuck's summer break had officially started yesterday and he had made the most of it by watching Sam be stoned and going to Victrola in the evening to see how work was doing. And, you know, to get drunk as hell and sleep with hot women. All in all a good way to start break. Until he woke up this morning, that is.

Now he was nursing a hangover with a glass of scotch and laying on his bed with the blinds closed and the TV on low. You didn't really need sound to watch the type of shows he liked. The door was open, mostly to get fresh air without opening the window.

[I just realized it's been a while since I've given him a hangover. The door, like the post, is open]

Okay, so Chuck hadn't celebrated a certain holiday as much as he should have yesterday, but he had a good reason. Claire and Temari were graduating and he owed Francine for the whole gay porn incident so he figured it was high time to have another brownie get together. He had given Francine some really, really good stuff this time around so these should be even better than the last. Bless her heart for still thinking it was oregano.

He had grabbed a couple of bags of cookies and chips from the kitchen and put on some music before settling down on his bed and waited for everyone else to get there.

Chuck was also avoiding any thoughts of "wow, two of my fake kids were conceived during one of these things".

[For those three other stoners. Up early for great SP justice]