#I wrote this in fifteen minutes so if you see a typo no you did not

[ellenembee]

Garrett had been trying to hint at his true identity for years. Per his extensive contract, he couldn't tell his husband Simon directly that he was his handler, but if Simon figured it out on his own, Garrett could claim a loophole.

Every time he thought he'd come up with the perfect method, though, it always blew up in his face.

"Oh, and don't forget to grab milk on the way home," Garrett said in a casual tone as their conversation about the latest assassination job came to a close.

A long pause followed. Garrett checked the connection.

Still active.

As he opened his mouth to prompt a response, however, Simon found his voice.

"What the fuck?! Are you actually spying on me?"

The anger knocked Garrett off balance, and the voice modulator couldn't hide it. "No! I--"

"Look, I know this job is a little fucked up, but I got in this business to make the world safer for my family. If you're going to subtly threaten me for no reason, I might just have to give it up, though."

"I wasn't trying to threaten you. I was just... trying to be helpful."

It was a phrase he tended to use when Simon was mad at him for something. The loud sigh at the other end of the encrytped communication device told him it hadn't worked this time, either.

"God, now there are two of you," Simon grumbled. "I appreciate the oddly specific advice that points out that you all know everything about me, your lowly little grunt assassin. But can you do me a favor and keep it to yourself from now on?"

"Sure," Garrett said, trying to hide the disappointment in his tone.

"Thanks."

"But seriously. Don't forget the milk, okay?"

The line went dead.

Your spouse is leading a secret double life as an assassin, trying their best to keep it secret from you. This has never really worked, because, unbeknownst to them, you are actually their handler.

[mystellenia]

tutor session with nerd!ellie

summary: ellie agrees to tutor you, and your first session is today!!

content: sfw!! just some kissing and like light groping if u squint. i wrote this as like you guys lowkey playing around during the study break and i like how chill it is

notes: this took me way too long i need to time manage better

(wc 1.8k)

you sighed in satisfaction, propping your hands on your hips to look at your work. your apartment was basically sparkling after your much needed deep clean in preparation for your and ellie's study session. the two of you agreed that your place would be better since she has a roommate that spends most of her time at their apartment. 

thinking back to your last planetary class—the class after the time you asked ellie if she could tutor you—your lips curl up in a smile, laughing softly to yourself about how the two of you joked in class and how she explained a concept to you that you'd missed while watching her spin her pencil zoning out. 

you glanced at the clock, confirming that you still had time for a shower. it was only 3:15, and you guys had agreed on 4, so you freed your hair of its bun and headed off to the bathroom.  

after stripping and turning the shower on, you scroll on your phone to wait for the water to heat up, the small bathroom's air quickly thickening with steam. your thumb stutters while you clean out your notifications, coming across a text from ellie. 

ellie: hi are we still on for today at 4? and should i bring my textbook or did u get one from the library? 

your thumbs circle around one another as you think of your response. 

you: yess sometime around 4 is still good, i'll send address now 

you: please bring your textbook i haven't gotten around to getting one yet 

the steam from the shower started to fog up your phone screen, causing many typos you luckily caught before hitting the send button. 

turning on your shower playlist, you set your phone on the sink and pull the curtain aside to step inside. 

a quick twenty minutes later, you've finished up your shower and slip on some pjs after lathering your body in lotion. the time on your phone now said 3:48, so you exited your room to the living room to make sure you had everything you needed to study. 

once you laid out all your notes and your laptop, you plopped on the couch and waited. the dancing flame of the candle you lit caught your eye, teasing you after you blew it out in fear that she might think you were trying to 'set the mood' and subsequently relit it. 

fifteen minutes later you hear four soft taps on the door, signaling ellie's arrival. for no reason at all, you look through the peephole and see her standing on the other side of the door staring at her feet, red-brown hair pulled into a loose, low bun and her arms covered by a navy blue henley. that's all you catch, though, before she glances up again and looks at the door, making you jump to the side at the thought of her somehow seeing you through it.  

returning to the door, you turn the doorknob to swing it open and are met by ellie's startled stare before her eyebrows lower again. "hi... am i late?" 

"no, no, of course not," you rush out, "just on time. i was actually just waiting on the couch for you."  

you step aside to make room for her so she can enter, and she quickly glances around before noticing your setup and taking the seat next to yours to unpack her bag.  

once she's fully unpacked everything, with her textbook open on the chapter you went over in class, she pats her thighs and begins, "well, how about we start on what we went over on tuesday, yeah?" 

you dumbly nod as you reach for your notebook to flip to last class's notes.  

"okay, let's see..." while she finds the section your professor left off at, you take a moment to look at her. her brows were slightly furrowed as they always were, and you start to ask her how she got the cut in her right eyebrow but she speaks before you can get it out.

"okay, found it. do you understand everything about planetary atmospheres?" she asks. 

"pshhh, that's a cakewalk," you jest. "just weather, but in space, no?" 

"okay, then, miss genius," she chuckles, finding the next section. "how about planetary formation and habitability?" 

"yeah, isn't that just on, like, explosions? like supernovas?" 

ellie snorts before answering, "not at all, actually. let's start here." 

you feel your ears heat a bit at your complete failure at recalling tuesday's class and pull your knee up to your chest to rest your cheek on it. 

"so you already know that planets form from dust and gas around a young star, right?" you nod, so she continues. "so all planets orbit their own host star—ours is the sun..." 

forty-five minutes later, you stand up and stretch out your stiff joints, heading to the kitchen to grab you and ellie a snack. rummaging through the pantry, you find tortilla chips and immediately think of chips and salsa.  

"hey, we could do chips and salsa," you announce before realizing your apparent lack of preparation. "damn... so there's good news and bad news. which one you want first?" 

she shoots a confused look your way as she answers, "good news, of course." 

"so the good news is that i have tomatoes for us to bite into like apples to pair with the tortilla chips," you say with a cheeky grin. 

ellie drops her phone as her entire face screws up in a grimace, her eyes closing while she thinks. "why... the hell would we bite into tomatoes?" she probes. 

"because, the bad news is that i don't have any salsa. so." 

she seems lost in thought for a moment before asking, "how many tomatoes do you have?" 

you pause to count them, "uhh, like four. why?" 

"because i can make the salsa," she declares while standing up and rolling her sleeves back, revealing an intricate tattoo on her forearm. "can i look in your fridge to see what you have?" 

"yeah, sure," you gape, surprised at her gracious offer. "how do you know how to make salsa, anyway?" 

she speaks into the refrigerator as she bends to grab the tomatoes and other veggies and herbs you'd forgotten about. "just some recipe online," she responds. "but that recipe is what my dad used all throughout my middle and high school years. it's the best there is, trust me," she says, looking back and up at you as she finishes. 

"oh, i'll be the judge of that," you quip. 

once she starts chopping the onions and tomatoes, you have to force yourself to stop drooling over her random knife skills and excuse yourself to the bathroom even though you don't have to go. 

you splash a bit of water on your cheeks and give yourself a pep talk in the mirror to boost your confidence, then head back out into the kitchen. ellie had apparently finished her salsa and plated it in a small dipping bowl for the two of you, her lean forearms now flexing as she opened the bag of tortilla chips. 

"hey, perfect timing," she says, clapping her hands over the sink to rid them of any crumbs. "i just finished my legendary, michelin-star salsa. you ready?" 

"you're really gassing this up, huh?" you smirk. "i bet this recipe is by a mom of three who had to share her whole life's story before even telling what ingredients you needed." 

"bro, just eat it already." 

you give in and scoop a hefty dip of her salsa onto your chip, raising it to your mouth while maintaining eye contact. 

your eyes widen as the salsa covers your tongue, the crunch of the chip pairing perfectly with the smooth sauce. "oh my god. el, this is so good." 

she stares at your mouth moving around your bite for a beat too long before her eyes flick back up to yours, processing what you said as her trademark smirk took over her face.

"el, huh?" she teases, but saves you from responding with her cocky answer. "of course it's good, i made it," she says while wiping imaginary dust off her shoulders. 

the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, you leaning on the kitchen counter over the bowl of salsa and her looking down at you eating the snack. her eyes linger on your lips for a bit before her hand lifts to your mouth to brush her thumb at the corner of your mouth. she casually wipes her hand on a rag before realizing what she did and freezing while staring at you like a deer in headlights. 

in your shock, you stop chewing and murmur through the fresh tension, "what was that for?" 

"oh, you had some salsa on your lip," she explains, lifting her pinky finger to point to your lip so as to prove herself, "right here." 

her hand slowly falls back to her side as you stand straight and grab her arm to pull her in to a bruising kiss, slow and full of want.  

ellie doesn't need to be told twice—she quickly has your thighs wrapped around her hips after tapping them to signal you to jump. she walks the two of you to the island so she can stand between your open legs. her kisses hungrily move down to your neck, her mouth making quick work of undoing what little composure you had left as a soft breath escapes you. 

in your lustful daze, you don't notice ellie's phone ringing for a while—not until she grunts in annoyance. opening your eyes to look over her shoulder, you see her phone lit up next to the fridge with a call from a someone named "claire!!" 

"it's from someone named claire?" you inform her with poorly masked jealousy and are met by her exasperated groan. "god, that's my roommate," she says. "just ignore it." 

you do just that, closing your eyes again as you pull ellie back up to your lips to kiss her again, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips before entering. 

the phone rings again and ellie pulls away with a huff to answer it. "yes?" she demands. although you couldn't make out what this claire was saying, you did notice ellie's eye roll and her hands patting at her pockets to retrieve her car keys. "yes, i'm leaving now." 

"ugh, my roommate locked herself out of the apartment. again." she walks back to the couch to pack up her stuff to leave, and you shyly slide off of the counter and simply watch her. 

"well, what a productive study session, am i right?" she awkwardly jokes, twisting the ball of her foot into the ground. 

"oh, shut up, ellie. i'll see you in class on thursday?" you say. 

"yeah," she confirms with a chuckle, "thursday." 

she lets herself out, but not before sharing a soft stare with you, her gaze stuck on yours like honey. then, she stepped outside and the door shut with a click. 💫

reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!

yayyyy finally done and i already know what i’m writing next (ellabs girlies get ready)

ladies ladies calm down i gotta establish the relationship before anything happens but perhaps a part 3??? lets see how this does

tags of those who were waiting for this: @saturnsdrafts @hazywazysmind @nramv @elliesactualgirlfriend

anyone who wants to be tagged in the future, just comment!!

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 21 - Coughing Up Smoke

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

18+ | 3.6k Words | Third-person omniscient | Darkfic/Fluff? | AU/AT |

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma, the effects of this in adulthood, smut mention, death mention, missing persons, maybe some typos, marc cries awe, smoking, kidnapping, torture, violence.

Tagging for the loves: @ahookedheroespureheart

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list 

"Woke up from my dreams and I don't see you next to me I held you next to me Lately the absence vexin' me Testin' the waters with you My feelings' ain't been corrected I'm lost Wanderin' down your street, I'm like a dog without a leash Fuck" -"Coughing Up Smoke" by 99 Neighbors

"Hey, Tracy. I wanted to get a hold of you and let you know that I'm stepping away for a bit. I have all your files to send to whoever you want to speak to in my absence. I recommend Dr. Dooley from my office, though. Let me know what you plan to do. I apologize for the inconvenience." Simone said into her phone. 

"If you want to replay this message, press 1 or hang up if you are finished." The electronic voice on the other end said. It was only the second voicemail box Simone's gotten since deciding to make these calls this morning, but she did well in sticking to the script with even the patients she spoke to directly. 

It hurt to speak to them. They all had questions Simone couldn't answer, and some even cried. She wished she could explain everything, tell them she had to cut her association with them for their own good, but there was nothing she could say to make it right. She knew it was for the best until they found and put Walton back behind bars. 

As for her own safety, she was convinced it was only a matter of time before Walton made himself known to her. The night before, when she got back from Marc and Steven's place, she practically ran from her car into the door of the building. She was afraid but knew she could handle herself if she was prepared. 

Meanwhile, Marc and Steven rushed to get to Simone's to speak to her. They were surprised she wasn't at her office, being a work day, and threw fifteen minutes in the wrong direction because of it. 

After Moni stormed out the night before, Steven went off on Marc. He spent the whole night thinking about it and realized what he needed to do, making him want to kickstart a recovery period for their relationship. There was so much he wanted to do with her in his life. They planned to go into the same retirement home and play bingo, and Marc would be damned if they didn't hold onto that idea. 

Simone was writing a note on lined paper when they showed up. There was no knock, warning, or indication that it was them, and she nearly jumped out of her skin and screamed at them for doing that, especially when she was on high alert. She also silently scolded herself for not locking the door.

We're all idiots here, apparently. 

Marc didn't even think about it, stomping until he was just a foot away from her like a man on a mission. "I fucked up. I'm a fuck up. I know this, and I'm sorry." He started. Simone was baffled by what she heard and how it wasn't in an English accent this time. She sat at the dining table with the paper under her hand as he continued to ramble. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I'm messed up. I'm sorry I hurt you..." 

"Marc..." Simone spoke up and stood, trying to get him to relax. Marc was having an apparent breakdown right before her, and as soon as he said that first apology, they wouldn't stop coming. Tears built up in his eyes as he ignored her. 

"I'm not sure if I like the person I am without you with me, and I know that's fucked up to say, and I'm sorry that we've been so shitty to each other..."

"Marc?" She repeated, this time a bit louder and in the form of a question. He just kept pacing. 

"I'm scared to lose you completely, Moni. I know you hate that I keep calling you that, and I'm sorry, and I know it's shitty of me to just show up like this and throw all of this at you, but I lo-" 

"Marc!" She finally shouted over him, throwing her hands onto his shoulders to get him to stop. He stood still and stared at her with wide, watery brown eyes, unsure what else he could say besides what he repeated. 

He found himself with only apologies and proclamations of love to say but started weeping like Simone hadn't seen since they were kids. He began to buckle down on his knees and lower to the floor, and she followed, drawing him into her chest as her own tears crept through her ducts.

It broke her heart. She finally got the apology she wanted and more, but she didn't expect this. In Marc's shudders and hitches, she heard him continue to groan apologies that would sound like nonsense if he wasn't so close. 

"Honey, please. It's okay." She repeated, rubbing circles into his back with one hand and stroking his head with the other. 

Once the floodgates opened, they were damn hard to stop. Marc typically checked out before he could cry, but he knew he needed to get this out there with Moni. He slowly settled down to the sound of her voice and the thumping of her heart against his ear. 

Simone wasn't sure if this was the right time to bring up what was happening but couldn't chance not saying something if she didn't get the opportunity. "I think I'm in trouble." She said. Marc slowly pulled away from her embrace and looked at her, not sure what kind of trouble yet but not liking the sound of it. Once she explained everything with Walton and the disappearing patients, she helped him to his feet. 

"If anything happens to me, you do everything this note says. To the letter." She said, grabbing the note she wrote and handing it to him.

Marc was caught off guard, now knowing the situation but wondering why she assumed anything would happen to her. "Nothing's gonna happen to you, Moni. I don't need this." He said with a still, shakey voice, refusing to even look at the words it contained. She could tell him whatever she wrote down herself.

"I don't care what you think. This is real shit, and if something happens to me, Marc, Steven, you need to do this. I need to hear you say you will." Simone snapped. Her eyes looked grim like she had a bad feeling. Marc rejected accepting that possibility but knew she needed to hear it. 

"I understand," Marc confirmed. 

"Yeah, love. We'll do it." Steven also confirmed. "But we aren't leaving your side."

The whole day was an internal struggle for Simone. She went from going about her everyday life without Marc and Steven around all the time to them following her throughout each square inch of her apartment like Walton could be holed up in one of her cupboards, ready to grab her at any moment.

She feared bringing up the unleashed apology from earlier, knowing that it might cause trouble if she did. She also knew Marc wouldn't speak of it again unless she did first. Marc hadn't bargained for having an entire episode in the middle of her galley and was slightly embarrassed having that it happened. 

Now Simone's locked away with them, driving herself nuts in the silence between them as they both thought of the elephant in the room. She sat on the couch, they sat in Joyce's chair, and "Narcos" played on the TV as if they were paying any attention to it. She felt both comforted by their presence and uncomfortable all at once. 

"I'm getting to air." She announced, pulling herself to her feet. By that, she meant stepping out for a few cigarette drags. Marc paused the show as she put on her slip-on shoes. She wanted to protest his tagging along, wanted to tell him there was still plenty of daylight and she would only be right outside, but she knew what he would say. 

You think any of that'll stop Walton?

No, probably not. She answered in her head. 

They took the lift down and continued to stand silently, with the only sound being the machine whirling of the old rickety elevator. Marc had his thumbs tucked into his pockets, and Simone was rocking back and forth on her heels. He thought this would all go down differently and couldn't stop the shame of the apology bomb from creeping in. 

The elevator dinged to a stop, and the metal doors slid open to the hallway, where Simone started walking briskly across the treated concrete floor, and he followed at arm's length. She pushed open the heavy breezeway door and stopped far enough away from it to not feel bad for lighting the smoke she had brought out with her. 

It was her first one of the day, which made her feel good even if she felt Marc's eyes burning a hole in the side of her head. The fresh air did no good. Seemingly everywhere they went, the atmosphere felt heavy in her nostrils. She went in for a long, smokey inhale that comforted her momentarily before she released it. 

"I only have one left after this one. It'll be my last, I swear." She said, out of the blue and with a slight chuckle. Being outside made her feel like she could speak freely, though she felt dopey for that being her first comment. 

"How many times have you said that since picking it back up again?" Marc asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the stone wall behind them. Simone knew he had a point but didn't answer until she stepped forward and sat on the curb of the sidewalk they stood on. She immediately regretted this as the bumpy surface dug into the bit of buttock that her shorts left exposed, still sore from the night before.

"Too many." She replied with a slight sing-song tone. Now she felt his eyes burning holes in the back of her black shirt. This and the morning's apology and catch-up on her situation were the most they'd said to each other that didn't result in a fight or rough sex. Simone didn't think she had it in her to do either of those things today. 

Marc observed from behind as trails of smoke lingered away from her and into the gray-blue sky. All he wanted was to hold her, talk to her, and for her to talk back. He pictured sitting on the curb with her like when they waited for the school bus as kids and absentmindedly found himself on the pavement beside her. Simone stiffened at this, feeling like her body might unconsciously float closer to him like a magnet.

"If I ask you something, will you answer honestly?" Marc finally spoke up. Moni still refused to look directly at him but nodded the go-ahead. "Do you want me here right now?" He asked with slight hesitation. 

Yes! Simone thought to herself. Even if it's awkward, I want you to stay.

"I feel like no matter what my answer is, it won't affect your being here." She answered outwardly. A slight grin formed over his lips,

"It wouldn't, but I know you probably didn't plan on seeing us today. Not after-"

"Did you read the note?" Simone promptly cut him off, not allowing him to bring up the night before any further. She said her piece about the subject and accepted his apology. What they needed was to discuss what lay ahead. 

"No, and I'm not gonna read it because nothing will happen to you." He told her, fully believing it. Simone wasn't so sure.

"Just a bad feeling, is all." She spoke softer now, staring blankly at the cigarette as it burned to the butt. She didn't want it anymore but found ease in holding it. 

I miss you. She thought to herself. She couldn't bring the words to fall from her tongue. I miss you. I'm tired of being mad at you. 

Simone let the butt fall from her fingers and climbed to her feet, brushing pebbles and dust from her bare legs and buttocks before turning to find Marc also standing. They nearly bumped chests as she hadn't expected him to be there so quickly. Her eyes locked onto his briefly, and though it was too fleeting to call, it was long enough to cause the thought of kissing him to float through her mind. 

The fact that she felt like she couldn't or shouldn't kiss him caused the corners of her mouth to turn down as she brushed past him and through the metal doors again. An image clicked in her mind that told her there was nothing against him kissing her. It would be up to him. 

Marc pursued behind her as they got back into the elevator as quietly as before, brain scattered by thoughts of the pure electricity he felt when they looked at each other a beat before. There was an understanding there. There was no bitterness, lust, or anything that would lead them down the same path as usual, and for the first time since his bravery that morning, he wanted to overstep. 

The lift creaked and bellowed around them, and before Simone could spare a second thought, Marc had her turned around to him, and his lips folded into hers perfectly. It was a slow, soothing kiss where their noses brushed together. The kind of kiss you can feel them smile into. The type of kiss that said-

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry.

It filled Simone with indescribable warmth and oxygen she felt she wasn't getting before. His hands caressed her back and pulled her closer as her arms wrapped around his neck. She was content, and the warmth grew as she sensed Marc relax his body into hers. 

"I'm not going anywhere. No more running away." Marc whispered through her lips. The promise vibrated on her tongue, and she knew he was being serious. It was everything she needed to hear from him, and it tasted like fresh honey. 

The moment was interrupted by the ding of the elevator stopping, and they let the tender affection linger between them as they slowly drew themselves away, admiring the glimmer that sat in their eyes. They stepped out of the metal box hand-in-hand and returned to Simone's apartment.

Not much else was said for the rest of the night before they curled up into bed together. They drifted off in each other's arms but didn't stay that way as Simone woke up at 3 AM on her stomach with Marc's bare back to her. She awoke to the thought of her missing patients again and, in turn, needed a dart. 

She grabbed her last smoke, lighter, and a pocket-sized cattle hot shot she kept and slipped her slip-on shoes back on before leaving the building. The air was significantly colder than earlier, making her wish she had covered her legs and put on a coat.

The night was mostly quiet as a few cars cruised by, and the light of the single lamppost on the other end of the parking lot illuminated her vision. Even though she knew she shouldn't have come out alone, she felt oddly safe. 

A thick plume of smoke floated from her lips, and her gaze focused on it as it disbursed before her. She swore it to be her last cigarette, so she would savor it. 

Without warning, the lampost ahead disappeared. Simone's eyesight filled with black, and the smoke smell trapped around her as heat covered her head and neck and arms tightly wrapped around her, forcing her elbows to her body. 

"The fuck!" She yelled as her feet no longer touched the ground. She began kicking and screaming, but there was no use. A loud thunk registered in her ears, and her screaming and moving ceased as her body fell limp. Her last thought was of how much of an idiot she was for coming outside and keeping her back exposed. 

Once Simone awoke, it took longer than usual to fully open her eyes and register her surroundings. It was utterly dark, nearly too dark for her sight to fully adjust. Humid and dank, the air smelled rotten and skunky. It was entirely too quiet for her to get a reading on where she was. 

Her head pounded, and the right side of her face felt moist down to her jaw. There was no movement in her limbs as she attempted to wiggle, realizing she was duct taped to a chair with several layers wrapped around her torso and ankles, yanking stray arm hairs as she moved.

She was nearly too petrified to scream, but by god, she let one rip that made her feel like she collapsed a lung and busted a vessel in her eye before a shadow emerged, landing a sharp smack across her left cheek. Her head relaxed to the side in response to the burning. 

"You must be quiet, doctor." The English accent pierced her ears before forcing her head forward again and placing a thick piece of duct tape over her lips. It was Walton. She knew that voice anywhere. Hot tears began streaming down her cheeks as she remembered what he did to his victims before he was locked up and realized she would no doubt meet the same fate. 

A filthy thumb came up to the right side of Simone's face and glided under her eyelid, catching the tears before they could roll down, and Simone jerked her head away at the feeling of the finger coming near her eyeball. 

Don't touch my fucking eyes! She thought and screamed through the tape over her mouth the best she could. It was fully muffled, pulling the peachfuzz on her lips every time she tried to move them. The more she heard the muted feedback, the more afraid she got. She began shaking and wiggling without thinking, feeling the chair shift under her and the tape around her arms tug and yank. It was no use. 

"You're getting rather annoying," Walton said. "Settle down." 

Simone didn't calm as her body flooded into full-blown panic. She knew she wasn't getting anywhere, but she could help it. 

Walton had no choice but to subdue her, which he did with a vicious punch as he did the first time, knocking her out cold.

"I'll be back later, doctor."

Marc didn't expect Moni to be out of bed when he woke up. He also didn't expect her to not be anywhere in the apartment, so he checked outside where she would smoke. She wasn't there either, and her BMW was still locked in her parking spot. 

Neither Marc nor Steven took this seriously at first, thinking it was a prank or maybe she went for a walk. They didn't want to believe she had been snatched up on their watch, but when they realized her purse and cell phone were still in the apartment, it was clear: 

Walton got her, and the empty cigarette pack told them how he did it.

Fuck, Moni, why'd you leave without waking us up? 

They sat staring at the folded note containing her instructions for if anything happened to her like it was cursed. They didn't want to read it for fear of it solidifying her disappearance in stone. 

"We promised, Marc." Steven spoke up, taking control and beginning to unfold the paper. Marc stopped him abruptly. 

"No. We can't. We have to find her."

"We will, but we should see if this gives us any ideas. We promised!" Steven argued. 

It felt like someone stuck a meat hook into Marc's heart and dragged it across the pavement. The pain was continuous and immense. He wanted to retreat but knew he couldn't. 

I have to figure this out. I have to find her. 

Cautiously, he watched Steven open the note and read it quietly. 

Boys:

I have a feeling something will happen to me, and if something does, please do as follows. 

Marc: the recording from our hypnosis session is on my phone. Listen to it as if I were there, focus, and try to talk to Jake that way. He has an information network and will likely be able to find Walton and, in turn, find me. DO NOT engage. He's dangerous. Get a lead, call the cops.

Steven: You may not want to hear this, but I could be dead right now. It's a possibility. You can mourn later. This isn't a final will and testament, but I withdrew every cent in my name and stuck it in a duffle bag in my closet. Use it, invest it, donate it, whatever. It's yours; don't give it back if I'm alive. 

Jake: Don't be so stubborn. They will need you more than you realize; the unfortunate cost will be their acceptance of Khonshu if you won't drop the bird. You can figure that out later. Right now, the only option is integrating and getting this bastard off the street before he hurts anyone else. Every file I have on Walton is in my trunk (don't tell anyone). Again, DO NOT engage.

If I'm found alive, and you ignore these instructions: I'm coming back swinging. At your face. 

If I'm dead: FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS! And find my mom. Tell her I turned out alright. Lie if you have to. 

I love you, boys. Please be careful. 

-Simone, aka Moni.

Their eyes scanned the instances she tried to write in all capital letters to get the point across and how they still looked pretty and curly like the rest of the words. 

I'll follow your instructions, Moni, but I can't promise I won't kill the fucker when we find him.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OHSHC: Mitsukuni (Honey) x Fem!Reader Fluff

A/N: Okay so this was something I wrote WAY back in 2013 when I was obsessed with Ouran Highschool Host Club. So I did make a bunch of revisions (like fixing typos and changing up some of the events that occur).

But if you wanna read the original check it out on my DeviantArt!

Welp, hope ya'll enjoy this!

It was a lovely Friday afternoon. School was out and most students were eager to go home. 

But you, on the other hand, decided to visit the Host Club for a few hours. You always looked forward going to it everyday after school, though not just because you desperately wanted to be swooned by handsome men.

You just liked to observe the hosts indulging in their element, be it Tamaki’s flamboyant acts or the Hitachiin twins’ performances. All the while, you drank tea and ate delicious pastries whilst chatting with other ladies who babbled about their crushes.

Most had their eyes on Tamaki, for obvious reasons, but for you there was a different host that stole your heart every time, without fail:

Mitsukuni, or “Honey” as everyone liked to call him. 

You did have a slight crush on him, considering you both shared classes and hung-out quite often on the weekends. But even after all the years you’ve known him, you never actually acted on this crush, not wanting to take away his duties as a host.

Besides he might treat you extra “sweetly”, but you assumed he was like this with all the other girls.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Honey didn't see you the same way as he saw them. To him you weren't just another visitor to entertain.

He saw you as something, well, more.

........

'Okay this wasn't...what I expected. But I guess I'll have to stay for a little while longer..' You sighed as you looked down at the blonde who was now laying on your lap.

Honey must've had a sugar crash, since he fell asleep on the same sofa you so-happened to be on, even though the club meeting had ended fifteen minutes ago.

'Poor guy must be tired, running around and entertaining..he deserves at least this.' Relaxing back against the sofa, you gently stroked his hair with one hand, and kept Usa-chan wrapped around your free arm. You were sure he wouldn't mind it, given that he's let you hold it before.

All the while, you hummed a gentle song, taking note of the tiny smile that adorned his sleeping face. You knew very well that you shouldn't move, but you didn't mind it. 

Being able to get this close to him made it worthwhile.

Haruhi, Mori, and Kyoya would glance over every so often while they were cleaning up, smiling at the scene. Meanwhile, Tamaki and the twins were hiding behind a nearby couch, looking at you with comically-wide eyes. They wondered how you've managed to not wake up Honey at all, and how you were so calm.

You looked over and gave them a bemused smile, waving politely. Honestly you didn't know what their deal was. They were staring at you like you were about to invoke the wrath of god.

Or in this case the wrath of the loli-shota.

"H-How does [y/n] do that?" The frenchman stammered as he gazed at the twins.

""It must be Nekozawa's sleeping magic. Maybe she's in cahoots with him."" The brothers replied, trembling too.

"You guys are acting insane." Haruhi sighed as she walked past the three with a porcelain tray in her hands. "She’s known Honey-senpai for years, so..it's obvious they're close. Doesn’t take a genius to know why she’s not afraid of him.”

"But why does she keep choosing him every time she visits?!! A-Am I somehow unworthy?!!" Tamaki cried out, already tearing up. "It makes no sense!! Mommy!! What do you make of this?!!" He swung his head to the already-annoyed Kyoya.

"Tamaki..our job here at the club is to make every girl happy, right? That includes Miss [L/n]-"

"B-But-But..she could at least give me a cha--!!"

"If you'll let me finish..." The black-haired male huffed. "Like every girl here, she has the right to choose whichever host she desires. You don't get to make that decision for her. So I suggest you keep it down, lest you wake up Honey-senpai." Fixing his glasses, he turned back to his laptop, ending the conversation.

Tamaki pouted in defeat and got up from his hiding spot. The twins followed him to where you sat and crouched down, now more curious than fearful.

"Gentlemen." You sighed quietly, waiting for them to get to the point so they could leave you alone.

"How are you able to keep so calm??" Hikaru hissed.

"We told you how he acts when his nap is disturbed.” Kaoru added. “You’re taking a big risk-”

“You’re overreacting a bit.” Finding it hard not to chuckle at their bewildered expressions, you kept your gaze on Honey instead. "I see no reason to be terrified of him waking up from a nap. People get cranky after naps all the time. But they eventually get over it, don't they?"

Then you glanced back up at the three, smiling reassuringly. "I do believe that little “horror story” you told me. But don't worry, if anything happens I'll protect you guys, okay? Nothing bad will happen to anyone here...especially not Honey.” You patted the sleeping blonde’s head.

The twins were relieved--moved, even--by your response, but Tamaki on the other hand seemed a bit freaked out by your promise to protect them. He tried grabbing your shoulders to yell about how “guys should protect girls, not the other way around”, though the duo managed to restrain him.

"B-Boss!! Cut it out!"

"You're gonna wake him!!!"

Unfortunately, the commotion they were making was exactly what stirred Honey from his rest. The three hosts immediately retreated back to their hiding place, expecting their fellow club member to awaken in rage.

But all he did was open his eyes and rub them tiredly. 

"Morning, Hon." You chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly.

As he realized you were still in the same spot as before, he smiled up at you. "Did I really sleep all night, [y/n]-chan?"

"No, only for a little while." You allowed him to sit up, and you handed him Usa-chan. "Have any good dreams?"

"Hmm..yeah, I did." Honey took his rabbit plushie, legs swinging as he tried to recall the details. "I..we were at a fair with lots of cake and ice cream! Then I...o-on the ferris wheel I might've..." He hugged the rabbit closer, to the point of hiding his blushing face.

You tilted your head in curiosity. "Might've what?"

"A-Asked you out and..and k-kissed you."

His response stunned you, and you could feel your heart skip several beats. In truth you've had similar dreams, although you never did get to the kissing part--instead you'd wake up with disappointment, never knowing if he accepted your confession.

"You know I dreamed of that, too. But..I never knew what your answer would be." You sighed despondently. "No matter how much I try to fall back asleep..I can't finish that dream. It's a shame.."

He shyly looked up at you, and he set down Usa-chan before taking your hands into his own. You gazed at him with surprise, wondering what he was going to do. "Honey? What-?"

His face inched closer to yours, and before you knew it, he kissed you perfectly on the lips.

Yep! Right here and right now he was kissing you!

The kiss tasted sweet, much like his personality and all those desserts he's had throughout the day. And you were in shock that this was really happening, but you smiled into the kiss, wanting to return it before he got the wrong idea.

When you both broke apart, Honey's eyes were large and tearful. But they were happy tears. "Y-You really do like me? But..I-I thought...I was too-"

"Honey, there's nothing about you that I don't love." You chuckled. "You're a good-hearted, smart, strong, and kind man. And that's all I could ever ask for. We've been great friends for a while and...the fact we share the same dreams must mean something."

"Something like...u-us being a couple, right?"

"Exactly, and right now..I wanna make those dreams a reality. Will you help me make them so?"

He was so overjoyed that he embraced you tightly, nearly crushing your spine. But you hugged him back, resting your chin on top of his head. You could feel his vigorous nod and knew that this is what he wanted for so long.

Of course he was probably still worried about his position as a host, so you looked to the others in question. "A-Ah..I meant to ask-"

"I see no issue with this," Kyoka smiled lightly. "I trust that this newly-blossoming relationship will not interfere with club activities."

""We knew you two were gonna get together eventually."" The twins spoke in unison once more, although they were just glad that Honey didn't snap at anyone this time.

Haruhi and Mori only flashed smiles at you two, the latter happy about his cousin finally confessing to the one he loved. He’s known about it longer than anyone at the club.

Once you let go of Honey, he jumped up and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. "Takashi!! Can [y/n] come over for the weekend??"

"Sure, why not?" The tall male nodded.

"Yaaaay--huh? Tama-chan?" Honey blinked as he noticed the only one who didn't react positively was the club leader himself, who was sulking in the corner. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Yes..I'd say we're all done here," he sighed in an exasperated tone. "If [y/n]'s happiness lies with Honey-senpai then...that's how it is, I guess. The host club is dismissed. You’re all free to leave now."

Of course, that wasn't the kind of send-off anyone expected. But the other hosts left, figuring Tamaki would eventually get over it. Though you told Honey to wait outside for a moment, not wanting to end this day on a sour note.

You reentered the now empty music room, seeing the princely-type staring out the window solemnly. Part of you felt guilty for not spending more time with him, even though he was often a nuisance trying to steal your attention.

"Hey, Tamaki-senpai..I have a feeling I somehow offended you by choosing Honey over you. And I'm sorry-"

"Nonsense." He glanced back at you, the brightness returning to his violet eyes. "I'm so obsessed with trying to charm every lady that it turned me into a blind fool. Until now I never realized that, in the end, it's what makes you happy, not me. I won't get in the way of your relationship with Honey-senpai. Cross my heart."

He made a gesture to seal that promise, smiling softly. "I mean it. I'm very happy for you two and I wish you all the best."

Knowing that he wasn't angry or upset anymore, you smiled and rewarded the "king" with a peck on the cheek. He gasped lightly and stared at you, touching the spot where you kissed him.

"Thank you. It's because of you and this club that I got to know Honey even more so...I owe you at least this. Have a good weekend." You winked before you turned on your heel and ran after your new boyfriend, leaving an incredibly flustered Tamaki alone in the room.

'Ahaha..her heart may belong to another, but she took the time to repair mine.’

[mrsbrookegillespie]

+Perfect Harmony+ (Part One) Luke x Reader

Description: For Y/N Molina, it never came easy for her. The hardest part not being able to do the one thing she loved, creating music. With her cousin Julie joining a ghost band that she’s been secretly admiring for years, her all time crush not returning the same feelings, and having many untold secrets, something is bound to go wrong.

Warnings: ANGST, swearing, mention of suicidal thoughts, Ray not being that nice (I’m sorry Ray, we love you), mention of slight sexual harassment, mentions of death (duh), terrible writing, typos, and probably more that my brain can’t think of at the moment. 

After Writing All Of That I’m Questioning This Story, But I Do Love It So... Many Songs Will Be Featured, Feel Free To Listen To Them When They Come Up.

+Perfect Harmony+

For Y/N Molina life wasn’t easy. Her parents, one being the sister of Ray Molina, dropped her off in front of the Molina household at the age of fourteen before going off to explore the world. At the time she was upset about the situation, but it wasn’t surprising. Her parents never wanted a kid, she practically raised herself while they were in Greece eating seafood, and sipping at the finest wine, no doubt. “How are you doing?” Rose, her cousin Julie’s mom, asks. 

Y/N shrugs. “They’re never coming back, so I guess I’m going to be stuck on this couch for a while.” She actually grew quite fond of the sofa that pulled out into a bed.

“We’ll make you a room up in the loft,” Rose assures.

“So, we agree, my parents are…” Her voice fades off, inhaling through her nose.

“You know, this used to be the studio of a band.” Y/N tilts her head, looking at the older woman. “A rock band, I met them when they were going to play at The Orpheum--”

“The Orpheum?!” Y/N exclaims. “That’s amazing!” 

“They were, but they died that night.” Rose stands up, walking to a box. “This is some of their stuff.” She picks it up. “I’ve heard the music you listen to, and I think you would like them.” Setting down the box in front of Y/N, she wastes no time searching through it.

“Sunset Curve?” she questions, staring down at the logo printed on the shirt. “Cool name,” she compliments with a wide smile, setting the article of clothing in her lap. She picks up a picture showing four boys. “Were these them?” 

“Yes, that one was Bobby, he’s a flirt, Reggie, sweetie, Alex, very sassy--” Y/N giggles, “And Luke, he was the lead singer.” 

“He’s… Quite decent looking,” Y/N observes sheepishly.

“I knew you’d think so.” Rose ruffles her hair. “Listen to the CD, you never know…” 

“I will.” Y/N clutches the photo to her chest as Rose leaves. Hastily she picks up the CD that had the band's logo plastered on the plastic case. She gently places it in the player, waiting for the music to come through the speakers. And then, there it was. “They’re amazing.” She grabs the box again, pulling out an orange beanie, placing it on her head. 

By the end of the night she had searched the entire studio for more stuff, gathering it, trying things on, she stayed up ‘til sunrise listening, and trying to learn each and every one of their songs, painting each of the members on canvases, writing songs about the guitarist that even though died years ago, she couldn’t help but feel connected to. A crush on a dead guy, what’s better than that?

“Boo!” Luke poofs in next to Y/N who’s currently getting her textbooks out of her locker.

“God!” she shrieks. “You need to stop doing that to me, gonna give me a heart attack,” she mutters as her fellow classmates, and random people she had never met give her weird glances. “Make people think I’m crazy.” Luke opens his mouth to reply, but Y/N beats him to it. “Yes, Luke, I know ‘we’re all a little crazy’.”

He pouts. “Someone’s grumpy today.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the locker next to hers. “But, anyways! Do you know where Julie is?” 

And there Y/N’s heart was punched. “I mean, she has to be around here somewhere,” she answers, slamming the locker door. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have to go to class.” She takes her time to turn around on her heels.

“You’re gonna be at band rehearsal before our performance, right?” he asks, making her stop.

Turning only the upper half of her body to look at him. “I think you forget I live in the studio.”

He lets out an airy chuckle. “Right.” He playfully rolls his eyes.

Unlike Julie she didn’t care if people thought she was crazy, for the number one reason being that people already thought that. Wacky, coocoo, freak, those were just some of the words people called her before her favorite band suddenly popped out of nowhere because Julie played their CD.

That always confused Y/N, why is that when she played the CD all that time ago they didn’t show up, but when Julie did, they did? She never mentioned her already known infatuation with the band, even though it most likely answers the question of why Julie and her can see the ghosts. “But, I’m grounded so…” She carelessly shrugs. “I’m stuck on party duty for the time being, so probably won’t be there for that, but I’ll be there for the actual performance.” Even though she would’ve done it anyway, Ray wanted Y/N to be more ‘supportive’.

“Oh.” His smile falters a little. “Cool, I’ll catch you later then.”

An awkward tension fills the air. “Yep.” She salutes towards him, walking off. 

Grounded. No phone, only can drive her car to school, and home. Y/N wasn’t even allowed to listen to her records which she’s collected over the course of three years. And it was for the reason that she's failing multiple classes, but Ray didn’t understand the struggle she’s going through.

Let’s rewind… When Rose died it left the whole Molina family broken. But, it also left another part of Y/N broken when music became Julie’s thing at that moment, Ray not allowing Y/N to even have a guitar in her room. She loved music, all she wanted to do was sing, play every instrument, write every song with any word that popped into her mind. Julie couldn’t even touch a piano until recently, and yet, it had to only be Julie’s thing. So, now Y/N has to just secretly write songs in her red notebook knowing they’ll never be used, and secretly play in the school’s band room before any student takes a foot into the building, while she watches her cousin and the guys become ‘Julie and the Phantoms’.

What does hurt her everyday, is not being able to do something she loves because they’re afraid of how it might affect someone else. But, if Julie really cared for her family member then she’d be happy for her, right? Not to mention the way Luke looks at Julie hurts a little too, the chemistry. No one can deny it. It’s not like she’s had a crush on him before they even met him as a ghost. No, the biggest crush that she’s ever had is totally not a dead guy, and no, she’s never in the past thought about killing herself in hope to meet him if there were an afterlife, which she guesses there is now. She’s sure he loves Julie not being an absolute mess for him, and he probably knows that Y/N’s in love with him and is trying to show her he doesn’t like her in the worst way possible. “Y/N!” she internally screams, hearing the familiar voice.

“Josh…” she drags out his name. Maybe she should just give him a chance? He gives her plenty of attention. She giggles to herself when the thought crosses her mind. That wasn’t funny. An inner voice replies. 

“Hey, I just… Wanted to see how you were doing, you know--just friend to friend.” 

“I actually have to go to class, so we’ll talk later, ‘kay?” She tries to turn around to leave, but Josh grabs her arm to pull her back.

“Class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes,” he counters.

“Y/N!” Luke exclaims, poofing right next to Josh. “I still haven’t found Julie, are you sure you don’t know where she is?” He almost didn’t even notice the other boy that had also been fighting for Y/N’s attention.

“I like to get to class early,” Y/N replies to Josh. “And you haven’t seen Julie around here, have you?”

“I think I saw her in the dance room.” She gives Luke a pointed look. “You know, practicing for that dance thing.”

“Yeah!” Y/N responds, not even an ounce interested in this conversation. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she noticed Luke not leaving.

“Who’s this?” he asks.

“So, Josh, I really have to go,” she claims. “I’ll see ya around!” 

“Wait,” he starts. “Is this about when I tried to kiss you the other day?” Y/N tenses up, 

Luke’s jaw dropping slightly.

Followed by a wide smile. “Does Y/N have a boyfriend?!” he mocks. 

“No, well, yes, it is. We aren’t dating, Josh, it’s uncomfortable.” Josh huffs out. “That’s not a weird reason for why.” Y/N’s blood starts to boil.

“You should feel honored that someone would even want to kiss you, I mean your reputation here isn’t all too great, Y/N,” he states. 

“Goodbye, Josh.” She turns on her heels. 

Luke watches as she angrily walks away, glaring at Josh who obviously couldn’t see him. He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see Julie by her locker. Giving Y/N one more glimpse he goes to do what he came here to do. 

Y/N sits at her desk, rereading over the words that she colorfully wrote in her journal. “You pretty thing, with pretty things inside,” she sings quietly. She slams the book closed when she finds herself getting annoyed by just how untalented she was. 

“I think that Nick guy has a crush on Julie,” Luke reports, once again magically appearing in front of her. He was taken aback when she didn’t react.

[charlies-gillespie]

unsaid emily | charlie gillespie (part 2)

PART ONE

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: it’s been a year and a half since reader and charlie have seen each other, and both have never stopped loving the other

length: long

rating: PG

warnings: a little language, more upset!charlie, more emotions, angst, a lil bit of fluff

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

author’s note: for the sake of the imagine and my sanity, the band name is going to be ‘sunset swerve’ because i’m not creative enough to come up with something better

another author’s note: i apologize ahead of time for typos. i wrote most this in the middle of the night when i couldn’t sleep. let’s blame any typos on my sleep deprivation

Your best friend shows up at your door at 5. They knock loudly and yell, “Y/N! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late.”

They invited you to see their favorite band live. You have never heard of the band ‘Sunset Swerve’ so you have no idea why you agreed to go in the first place.

Quickly, you grab your phone and your ticket to get into the venue before opening the door. Your best friend stands there in a Sunset Swerve t-shirt and jeans. You blink at them and say, “You’re going all in.”

“Of course,” they say in reply. “Anyway. Doors open in like thirty minutes. Let’s go. I want a good spot since we have general admission tickets.”

You’ve never even heard of Sunset Swerve. You probably should’ve listened to some of their songs before agreeing to go with your best friend.

Your best friend drives off to Times Square in New York. That’s where the concert is being held. It’s been a long time since your last concert, over two years. You used to go to concerts all the time with Charlie before you broke up.

Y/BFF/N finds a parking spot then the two of you find your way to the line. There aren’t a lot of people here yet and doors open in fifteen minutes. While waiting for the doors to open, you look up some of Sunset Swerve’s songs. They have a demo out but they sing a couple unreleased songs when performing.

The doors open before you get a chance to listen to one of their songs. Your best friend quickly pulls you inside. You get your tickets checked and you get wristbands put on your wrists for general admission. Your best friend practically runs to get as close to the stage as they can get. You follow them.

Both of you get close to barricade. You’re only about six feet from the barricade and eight feet from the stage. You hope your best friend is satisfied with the spot you both got.

“Y/N,” your best friend says. “Have you heard any of their songs?”

You make a face and say, “Only when you listen to them, I’m only here because you couldn’t find anyone else to come with you and you accidently bought two tickets.”

They laugh and say, “That’s true. Let me at least tell you a little bit about them. They’re based in Los Angeles and they formed maybe a year or so ago. There are three of them in the band.”

A red flag goes off in your head. A three man band from Los Angeles that formed about a year ago. That sounds too familiar.

You turn toward your best friend and ask, “Y/BFF/N, who are the members of this band?”

“Jeremy Shada, Owen Joyner, and-” Guitar chords are played, cutting your best friend off before she can say the name of the third member. The stage lights dim and drums are played. The thousands of fans around you scream in excitement. You stand there, almost frozen.

An all too familiar voice says, “Times Square, are you ready to rock out with Sunset Swerve?”

Your heart drops into your stomach as you watch Jeremy and your ex-boyfriend, Charlie, walk out onto the stage. Your eyes widen as you hear Charlie play the beginning chords to Late Last Night. Your best friend jams out beside you but your eyes are on Charlie.

His hair has grown a lot. He wears a cutoff tank top with jeans. It’s still Charlie in front of you. The lights are probably so bright that he can’t see you but you can see him clearly since you’re about ten feet away from him.

Once the song has ended, the crowd cheers.

Owen says into his microphone, “Who here has never seen Sunset Swerve before?” A bunch of people scream and your best friend raises your hand in the air, even though you protest.

“No no no,” you mumble.

Your eyes are still on the stage and you see Charlie look directly at you since Y/BFF/N put your hand in the air for you. You stare up at him and inhale sharply when you make eye contact with your ex. Charlie’s eyes widen as Jeremy says something along the lines of “you okay?” Charlie just nods and steps to his microphone. “It’s nice to see some old and new faces in the crowd tonight,” he says.

The crowd cheers again as Charlie smiles, looking around the New York Crowd. He waits a second before he says, “This next song is one I wrote about a year and a half or so ago when I made what was probably the worst mistake of my life.” He switches from an electric to an acoustic guitar. “This is called Unsaid Y/N.”

You take a deep breath and your best friend looks over at you. You sigh softly as the beginning chords are played.

First things first We start the scene in reverse All of the lines rehearsed Disappeared from my mind

“Y/N?” your best friend says. “You never told me that you knew him, or any of them.”

With a shrug, you say, “It’s not a time in my life that I was happy about.”

When things got loud One of us running out I should've turned around But I had too much pride

Yeah, he should’ve turned around. You were just heated in the moment when you told him to get out. When he left, he never came back.

You look back at the stage to see that Charlie’s eyes are on you. He’s practically singing this song to you.

No time for goodbyes Didn't get to apologize Pieces of a clock that lies broken

“I should’ve known since he named the song after you,” your best friend says. “It’s kind of cool how he wrote a song about you.”

With a sigh, you say, “He ran out the first chance he got. I don’t even think he wanted to be with me anymore at that point.”

If I could take us back, if I could just do that And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace Then maybe time would not erase me If you could only know I'd never let you go And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Y/N

Y/BFF/N says, “Wait, you dated Charlie Gillespie and never told me? You knew how big of a fan I am of them.”

“I didn’t know he was in a band, Y/BFF/N,” you say. “He was distant from me for the last of our relationship. The band explains it.”

In that moment, a wave of guilt hits you. He was spending time with the guys and getting the band together. You should’ve been more understanding, but instead you acted like a child and threw a temper tantrum when he wouldn’t give you attention.

Silent days, mysteries and mistakes Who'd be the first to break? Guess we're alike that way He said, she said Conversations in my head And that's just where they're gonna stay forever

You feel tears well in your eyes and you make it a mission to find Charlie after the show was over. Charlie’s crying up on stage too. You can see the emotion in his eyes and his cheeks wet from tears that have spilled over his eyelids.

Your best friend looks between you and Charlie before saying, “You still love him.” It wasn’t a question.

With no hesitation, you say, “Yeah, I do.”

Then the song ends and you clap. A smile forms on your face and Charlie looks at you. He lets out a little laugh away from his microphone. Jeremy claps him on the back and the show continues.

***

Immediately after the guys leave the stage, you and your best friend walk off to find out where the band went. They have to be around here somewhere.

As you try to enter the backstage area, a security guard stops you. “Only VIPs are allowed back here, ma’am,” he says.

“Please,” you beg. “I need to talk to Charlie. You don’t understand. That song, Unsaid Y/N. That’s me. I’m Y/N. I need to talk to him.”

The security guard says, “I’ve heard that one before. Move along, fangirl.”

You look at your best friend and you’re about to give up when you hear, “Y/N”. The voice came from behind you.

Quickly, you spin around. In the thinning crowd, you see Charlie standing less than ten feet away from you. You stand, frozen in shock that he’s standing in front of you.

After the moment sinks in, you run to Charlie and fling your arms around him. “I’m sorry,” you sob, burying your face in the crook of Charlie’s neck. “I was the one acting like a child that night.”

Charlie wraps his arms tight around your waist and he says, “I was the one that walked out and just never came back.”

“I wish I could take it all back,” you cry. “I didn’t want you to go, Charlie. I wanted you to stay. I know that it didn’t seem like it but I did want you to stay.”

He says, “You threw a glass at my head, Y/N. It didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay.”

You pull back a bit and look up at Charlie. Both your faces are wet with tears as you say, “I didn’t want you to go contrary to what my actions said. Actions speak louder than words, blah blah, but I really didn’t want you to go.”

His hands move to cup your cheeks and you lean into his touch, sighing softly. “I had a surprise I was getting ready for you,” Charlie admits. “I was writing a song for you that I was going to sing to you when I proposed to you. I just needed one more day.”

“You were planning to propose?” you ask, half in shock of Charlie’s confession.

Charlie laughs and says, “I wouldn’t become distant from you without a good reason, Y/N. I just couldn’t actually tell you what I was doing or it would’ve ruined my surprise.”

A little laugh escapes your lips and you say, “Now I feel like an ass.”

He shakes his head and says, “No, you had every right to be upset with me. I understand how it looked now and I promise you that I will never become distant from you again.”

You stare up into Charlie’s pretty hazel eyes and you say, “I trust you.”

His thumb wipes away from fresh tears and he asks, “Can I, um, can I kiss you?”

You nod as Charlie leans into you, pressing his lips to yours softly. Your heart pounds in your chest as if it’s the first time he’s kissing you again. Both of you hear a “whoop” behind you but it doesn’t break you apart.

Eventually, Charlie pulls back and says, “Come back to Los Angeles. The house is empty without you.”

“Let me talk it over with Y/BFF/N,” you say.

Then you hear someone shout, “Go back to Los Angeles. I’ll come with you. I’ve always wanted to go to LA.”

You and Charlie both laugh before you say, “Looks like I’m moving back to Los Angeles.”

Charlie smiles and hugs you, lifting you up and spinning you around. You giggle and wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

He puts you down and he says, “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” you admit to him. “I never stopped either.”

The smile on Charlie’s lips gets wider before you bring him down to you again, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Owen says, “Okay, get a room. Before then, can we go get some food.”

Charlie laughs and pulls back from the kiss. “So, Y/N,” he says. “What are some good places to eat around here?”

[pebblysand]

Hi!! I’m currently watching Harry Potter and the deathly hallows on tv (it made my day to see it there) and I always wondered how the people in the great hall (y’know the Weasleys and Hermione and everyone basically) reacted to finding out harry had gone to the forest and then hearing Voldemort’s yell of “Harry Potter is dead” so yeah that haha i guess this is a prompt idea, btw I love your writing, it’s fantastic!!

So, as I said in my post, I have this. Like, it’s a thing. I wrote it in September, from what my computer is telling me. And, look, I was going to go to bed but then I just - I had to go back and find it. Barely edited, so sorry for any typos, I suppose. Also, do remember that you asked for this - don’t blame me, hahah! I decided the world didn’t need this and did not post this at the time, okay?? lolol. 

I won’t put this one on AO3 also ‘cause it’s too short, so consider it a tumblr exclusive. Also, I’m pretty sure I stole the line about Molly being the woman who lived to see her bogart come true from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. If you know where it’s from, let me know ‘cause I’m pretty sure that’s not mine, haha!

[title: watch (the minutes tick, tick, tick, and we couldn’t save you)]

.

twenty. 

Minerva thinks that that night, her heart is the first to skip a beat. 

In the chaos of the direct aftermath of the battle, the minutes that cruise past her. Suddenly, she looks up from the floor (from the bodies wrapped in their white, pristine sheets and the blood, and the dust that’s lodged up, deep under her fingernails) and the longest hand of her watch reads twenty-to. Twenty to what, exactly, she’s not sure, but twenty-to, still, and it occurs to her that maybe, now’s the time to evacuate the castle. At this point, Voldemort can have it all. The stones and the house banners, and the Gryffindor common room she so dearly loves. It’s like death has coiled itself up into the walls, waiting patiently for all of them to join. Potter won’t necessarily like it (she doesn’t think he ever found what he was looking for) but they need to leave. She knows him well: he’ll agree. He’d do anything to end this, wouldn’t he? 

It’s only then that her gaze really lifts to study the Great Hall, you see. Huddled over the Weasley boy’s dead body is a sea of teary, red-headed figures – from them, Minerva misses the noise, the giggles, the fireworks and the swamps - they’re all drowned out by the silence, now. Quiet sniffles, pained moans, and nothing else. 

She looks for him.  

She looks for him the same way she has for the past seven years. Scans the group in front of her for an awkward mess of black hair, a malnourished child - she remembers how he used to flinch every time someone used to shout. She remembers having dreams about him, about hiding him from the world, offering him biscuits and just wanting to say: you’re safe, here. Say what Albus never told him, he the boy who, even with the Weasleys, always sort of stands at the back of the crowd, as though he still believes that someone might have made a mistake when they invited him to the party. 

It’s when she doesn’t see him there, with his family, where he should be, that her heart – Minerva’s heart – skips a beat.   

.

fifteen. 

Ron and Hermione enter the Great Hall hand in hand, that morning. Couldn’t care less who does or doesn’t see them, barely nod at McGonagall as they pass her; she seems to leave the Hall in a hurry. Somehow, Hermione finds the warmth of Ron’s hand in hers both strange and comforting; it reminds her of that night (all of those) when they fell asleep hugging each other in the dark. Somehow, Ron’s hand is both clammy and firm over hers, like if she pulled him towards her, he’d just come, no matter the fear and the early hours spent waking up in cold sweats, like he would follow her anywhere and never let go. The pieces of the puzzle seem to have fallen into place, for them, and she thinks that if they’re going to fight again, if they’re going to die here, they might as well do it together. 

Ron turns, slightly, the hint of a nod towards his family and although she knows he’d be happy for her to follow, she doesn’t. She lets him go. He needs the warmth of his mother’s arms and she has the safety of her thoughts. In her experience, those can take her anywhere. Sometimes, in her head, she even books a one-way ticket to Australia, sees her parents again. Immediately, they remember her, say they love her. It’s escapism, of course. If they all die in here, there will be no one left on this Earth to miss her. She can go quietly, like she never existed, like none of this ever existed. Sometimes, she does wonder if she’s dreamt it all. 

If they make it, though, if��they make it - she watches Ron go, his lanky form folded into his mother’s arms and she thinks: I’ll hold your hand in mine and wipe your tears with kisses softly dropped against your cheeks until you fall asleep. She vows it to herself, not to him.  

It is a minute, maybe two, before Professor McGonagall re-enters the room. The two of them stand, side by side at the door of the Great Hall. Ron walks over to the rest of the Weasleys; it is not until then that Hermione’s gaze leaves him,  almost reflexively finds Minerva’s. Hermione expects to see grief, there, or worry, but not fear. Not that raw, panicked kind of fear that the older woman tries to hide by looking away, not fear with an intensity that Hermione hasn’t seen since –

‘Professor,’ she calls, soft. McGonagall barely looks up from her watch, silent. ‘Professor, what’s -’

When the older woman extends her arm to show her, Hermione’s words die across her lips and her heart skips a beat, too. 

.

ten. 

Soon enough, at the other end of the Hall, Ron’s arm wraps around his mother’s shoulders. She cries. Cries all the tears that he, himself, would like to shed but feels that he can’t, because if he cracks, then Hermione will crack, too, and they can’t afford that to happen. Not now, not when the job’s not done, not –

When he looks at his mother next to him, he thinks he’d like to take her pain away. Completely, wholeheartedly, swallow it whole before it swallows her, for if he knows anything, anything for sure, is that Fred (cold, lifeless and warm-hearted, Fred) would never have wanted any of them to feel like this.

He looks up and out of the corner of his eye, he spots Ginny making her entrance. She’s supporting the weight of a semi-conscious Hufflepuff girl, hoisting her across the room to where Madam Pomfrey is still tending to the injured. He admires his sister. For her strength of character, for the way she sprang into action the moment she found out about Fred. ‘I’m going outside to see if there’s anyone left,’ she just said, visibly swallowed her tears and the bile that seemed to make her sick, ploughed on and out of the Hall. 

By the door, as Ginny laboriously makes her way through, Ron finds Hermione’s gaze and anchors himself onto it. His mum cries – wet tears and snot on his t-shirt, his mum is the woman in their world who lived to see her boggart come true. When he looks up, though, there is something in Hermione’s look that makes his stomach tense, like she’s trying to avoid him, her eyes constantly drifting back to McGonagall’s arm. Ron notices a watch, there, and the moment he catches a distant glimpse of its leather bracelet, he can’t un-see it. 

Somehow, he stands. His feet carry him. His voice apologises to his mother and lets an unsuspicious Bill take over; he finds himself at Hermione and McGonagall’s side. They can’t be thinking what he reckons they could be. 

‘Ron,’ Hermione whispers, her voice strangled, the moment he gets there. Her sentence remains forever unfinished, like she’ll never be able to push the word out of her mouth. His heart skips a beat, too, and his legs threaten to give out. ‘Ron, have you seen -’

.

five. 

It takes all the strength she has left to cross the Great Hall, that morning, half-carrying half-dragging poor Georgina Parker from Hufflepuff over her shoulder. The girl’s left leg has a whole chunk of it missing, blood pouring everywhere down her robes, and all that Ginny can think, in that moment, is how the fifth-year at her side is underage, shouldn’t even be here. Then, it occurs her that she, herself, shouldn’t be here, either. But then, everyone she knows and loves is here, so where else would she go?

Instead, she moves forward. Drags the injured kids she finds outside back into the Great Hall, where Madam Pomfrey either attempts to heal them, or pronounces them dead. Maybe, Ginny thinks, sometime soon, she’ll be pronounced dead, too. 

She avoids Fred, every time she passes. Doesn’t want to let herself grieve, not now. This is a truce, not an armistice, and if she makes it out of here alive, well, there’ll be time – plenty of time – to grieve. If she doesn’t make it, well, then, there’s no need to dwell on it. 

The Hufflepuff girl is safely dropped into the Healer’s hands and it’s only then that Ginny looks up and realises: someone’s missing. She’s taken a quick glance at her family (against her better judgment, it seems), and she counts, like she always has, ever since she was small, for fear that they may forget someone. Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Fred, she lists but - Ron, she pauses, where’s Ron? 

She lets out a short sigh of relief, the moment she sees him across the room. He stands by Hermione. She’s supporting his weight, it seems, and that’s odd, isn’t it, because he was fine before, wasn’t he, the last time she left the Hall and come to think of it, now, he doesn’t look injured and how could he be, anyway, when they’re in the middle of a truce, when –

The clock behind the professors’ table in Great Hall strokes the hour and suddenly, it feels like Ginny’s heart just stops. 

.

zero. 

For seconds, on Minerva’s side, the three of them are silent. Herself, Granger and Weasley look up to the ceiling and for the first time in their lives, they hope, with all their might, that the bombs will start falling again. They hope for: an apocalypse, a spell the strength of a missile, Voldemort storming in, through the door. That’s what should happen, you see. An hour to dispose of their dead before death starts raining down upon them again. It’s what he said would happen, unless - 

Fifteen seconds pass, thirty, forty-five. Nothing happens. Suddenly, Granger vomits, in the bin next to them. ‘No, he can’t have,’ she mutters, her words barely audible between gasps. ‘Ron, he can’t – I can’t -’ 

Noise erupts from further down the hall. Minerva catches herself hoping for Death Eaters but instead, it’s the Weasley girl who starts running ahead. 

Heaving, Hermione is barely aware of Ron’s hand when it leaves her shoulder. He catches his little sister before she crosses the threshold of the Hall, grabs her and reins her in, incoherent as she screams. God, that scream. Something broken like the desperate wail of the dying siren of an ambulance and, ‘Let me go!’ she says. ‘Let me go! Let me go! I need to see him, let me go!’ 

She sounds like she isn’t breathing, Ginny, and in hindsight, her screams from that day will always echo in Hermione’s head, like those an animal being burnt alive. It can’t be true, she thinks to herself, refuses to believe that Voldemort seems to be sparing them from further attacks, that the seconds pass and the curses don’t come, that the only thing that explains it, in her highly logical, intelligent brain is a thought that she refuses to entertain. Hermione holds onto hope for a minute, maybe two, until, alerted by Ginny’s raucous, Neville walks in through the front door and says: ‘Oh hey, there you are!’ he says. He’s smiling. ‘I wanted to tell you, actually, Harry’s told me,’ he adds, the end of his sentence almost a question. ‘Said we need to kill the snake, you know? He just walked past me, maybe twenty-five minutes ago and -’

In Ron’s arms, Ginny crumbles. Like a pastry, like – like bits of her soul are leaving her. Her tears are surprisingly quiet, Hermione notes, compared to her screams. The moment Ron looks up, he crosses his mum’s gaze and she, too, seems to know. Neville’s voice cracks when he says: ‘Shit. He went and gave himself up, didn’t he?’ 

No one does (no one can) answer him. 

.

one, maybe two. 

There is nothing to say, as far as Ginny’s concerned. She knows. Feels him gone in her heart and time, the seconds, the minutes, the hours, all seem to blur. She wants to believe what she knows not to be true. ‘Look,’ McGonagall says. Her voice is airy, like almost gone already. ‘Longbottom, we’re all making assumptions, here, we don’t really know –’

McGonagall never finishes her sentence. 

.

three, four, and -

Outside, on the Hogwarts grounds, they hear Bellatrix Lestrange cackle. 

. 

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

[A/N: THERE YOU GO I TOLD YOU THIS WAS NOT FIT FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION DIDN’T I] 

Liked it? Want more stories like this? You can find some here or here and find my original writing here. If you would like to help me justify the truly unreasonable amount of time I spend writing, you can consider donating to my tipee writing fund, here.

Thanks very much for reading!

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

“Make Your Own Kind Of Music” -- Alice Macray

A/N: I can’t get Alice’s impending transformation out of my head, so this happened. Big huge thanks to @thatgirlintheleatherjacket​ for convincing me not to give up on this and dealing with my whirlwind of emotions. Also please bear with me, I wrote this in under 24 hours and there are probably typos. 

**This was written after having only seen the first three episodes of Mrs. America, so it is inevitably canon divergent**

Words: ~3,700

~Enjoy!~

“I think you should wear the pink one. You know how much I love it on you.”

Alice smiled at the sentiment, pulling the blush blazer from its hanger. 

“Well, alright then.” 

She slid it on, tugging at the sleeves and tucking it around her skirt. Buck was silent as she walked to her vanity, eyes following her every move. And when she felt the heat of them, she hastily changed the subject. 

“Remember that that pot roast is in the oven and should be done in about fifteen minutes. The children should be doing their homework, and they can put themselves to bed. Do you need anything else before I go?”

He hummed, ogling her from the doorway. “No no. It’s just that Phyllis is here to see you.”

And right on cue, she breezed past Buck into the room. 

Alice glanced up from her vanity. “I apologize for not greeting you at the door, it’s just that I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Phyllis waved her off, seemingly distracted by the cleanliness of her room. She slid her finger over the fireplace mantle, flicking the dust off. “I only came by to return the books you had leant me.” A pause. “Where are you going?”

“Oh just a quick appointment,” Alice said smoothly, checking her hair in the mirror. “Where are the books?”

“Downstairs,” Phyllis said absently, walking around the room and testing multiple surfaces with her finger. “What kind of appointment?” 

Alice swallowed. “Oh, did I say appointment? I meant a family obligation. I apologize.” 

Again.

“A family obligation? Isn’t Buck going with you?”

Alice waved her off. “No no, it’s just a home visit.”

“Oh,” Phyllis quirked her brow, picking at a chip on her windowsill. “Well I’m more than happy to stay over and take care of dinner, if you need the extra help.”

Alice forced a smile, straightening out her blazer. “I think Buck can handle the children for one night.”

“Well, let’s hope so, since you’re not giving him much of a choice.”

Alice turned, forcing herself to take a breath as she rummaged for her earrings. “Was there anything else?”

She didn’t miss the way Phyllis hesitated, watching her eyes narrow in the vanity mirror. 

“No no,” she said quickly, covering her pause as she straightened. “I just thought I’d drop those vile things back to you. I almost sent them off with the garbage. No need having more women getting nonsense ideas. But I suppose you should be the one to make that decision.”

“Well yes, they are my books.” Alice turned back around, careful to hold her smile in place as she walked toward the door. She stood in the doorway, checking her posture. “Thank you again for returning them, I’d hate to take time out of your busy day.”

“Oh, well… Anything for my biggest booster.”

A light hand on her elbow and a kiss to her cheek, and Phyllis was gone. 

And Alice hated herself for almost wanting to follow. 

~~~ 

Alice paused in front of the large door, tugging at the hem of her blazer as her mind flipped back on itself for the hundredth time in the short ten minutes it had taken her to walk across town to the building. 

She shouldn’t be here. She wanted to be here. She shouldn’t do this. She wanted to do this. What would Phyllis think? Why did she care? What would her family think? Her friends, her son... 

But before she could remind herself that she was only here because she had been invited, reminded herself that it really didn’t mean anything at all, two women pushed past her to the door, giggling between themselves.

“Are you here for the meeting?” one of them asked, mouth pulled open in a huge smile. 

Alice nodded carefully, looking between the woman and the handle of the door. “Yes, I’m-“

There was a hand on her arm, friendly, gentle, and Alice flashed back to all of the times Phyllis had smoothed a hand down her arm, over her elbow, pulling her up and keeping her steady. 

But she was alone here. Entirely alone. 

She couldn’t do this. This was all a huge mistake. 

Alice had just managed to swallow around her fear and form some sort of excuse, when the door pulled open and she was hit with a wall of sound.

Everyone was bustling, everyone was moving. And everything was so colorful.

She blinked at the instant panic that clawed its way up her throat, smoothing down her blazer. And then there was a blonde woman in front of her, a huge smile in place.

“Alice?”

She managed a nod. 

“I’m so glad you made it! I’m Jill, the one who sent you the letter?”

Alice tried for a smile, fighting the way her lips wobbled with nerves. “Oh! Oh well, it is so nice to meet you, Jill. I appreciate the invitation. It—“

And then Jill was being pulled away by a woman with piles of paper balanced in her arms. She mouthed an apology as she was dragged across the room, and Alice smiled softly and nodded. Her nose twitched as she watched the room. She was here. She had done the hardest part. She had arrived. 

But now she was alone. 

It occurred to her as she watched all of the women bustle around, laughing and joking and working around one another, that she hadn’t had the burden of making new friends in quite some time. Not without Phyllis there to guide her and encourage her and prompt her forward. 

And right now, the idea of it seemed practically impossible. 

Alice had just decided to leave, finding the doors and keeping her eyes on them to hold herself balanced. Her fingers played over her blazer, smoothing over the rough fabric as she took a few steps towards the exit. 

Another hand on her arm.

“Leaving so soon?”

It was one of the girls that had greeted her in the hallway. 

“Oh, I—“ Alice tried, tripping over her words as she plastered a polite smile on her face. “I just thought that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, and—“

She cut off then, unable to find a rational ending to her sentence. 

She wanted to be here. She wanted to learn. She wanted to be more than she was supposed to be. More than just a housewife. More than everything. 

The girl in front of her gave her a kind smile. “I think you’ll like the talk today. If you just stay for a few more minutes, it should get started.” 

Alice found herself nodding before she knew what was happening. 

The girl squealed. “Oh yay! Perfect! Alright well, sit wherever you want. There’s coffee over there,” she pointed past a group of women huddled around a table, “and Gloria brought doughnuts!”

Alice blinked. “Gloria? As in…?”

“Mhm! She should be around here somewhere…” The girl trailed off as she looked around the room. “She’s the speaker today.” 

Phyllis’s voice in Alice’s head stopped her automatic response, making her pause. Scoffing over Gloria Steinem’s glasses at the salon. All of those words she had pushed into her newsletters. How sad it was that she didn’t have a husband to fulfill that hole in her life. 

“She wouldn’t be scrounging for validation if she had a family who needed her.”

“Are you alright?” the girl asked, and Alice shook her head out. 

“Yes, of course. I apologize. Thank you so much for all of your help.”

The girl nodded and made to leave, but then a shorter woman walked past and the girl grabbed at her arm. 

“This is Flo, she’s your go to for any kind of food or drink or… anything really.” 

Alice giggled, holding her hand out. “Hi, I’m Alice.”

And the smile that she received was so warm, Alice thought she might melt. “Flo,” the woman said, shaking her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Alice nodded just as someone shoved their way between them, four doughnuts stuffed in her mouth as she muttered. 

“Damnit Betty, watch where you’re going!” Flo shouted, rolling her eyes fondly and pulling Alice over to the table. “I’d suggest you take a doughnut before Friedan eats them all.”

A shock went through Alice. “Friedan? Betty Friedan? That was her?”

Flo laughed, nodding. “Real and in the flesh.” She pushed the plate of doughnuts toward Alice. “Now eat.” 

She almost grabbed one. She almost did. But then she paused, Phyllis’s voice nagging in the back of her head. 

“I shouldn’t,” Alice said softly, offering a sad smile and shaking her head. “Thank you, though.”

But Flo only raised an eyebrow. “Honey. Take a damn doughnut. What are you afraid of?” 

Who was she afraid of. 

So she did, taking a small, polite bite. She hummed around a moan, relishing the sweetness. It had been entirely too long since she had allowed herself to indulge in something so delicious just for the sake of it. 

“They’re delicious,” she said, covering her mouth and trying to swallow the sugar down. “Are they homemade?”

And the look Flo gave her, brows pushed up incredulously, had Alice wanting to crawl back into her shell. “No baby, they’re from the store. You know it’s not a woman’s job to bake everything, right? There are people who get paid to do that.” 

“I think having homemade things are nice.” 

Bella slid by, throwing a “You also thought Phyllis was nice” over her shoulder. 

Alice spun around, hand coming up to her chest, but the woman was gone before she could manage a response. 

And as she turned, eyes searching the room, they landed on a woman who stuck out like a gem. 

Tall, long hair, dressed impeccably modern, aviators tucked over her ears as she nodded along with a conversation. 

Gloria Steinem. 

But it barely had time to register before people were pushing and someone was clapping and shouting for people to find a comfortable place to sit. 

Flo walked over to a nearby desk, shoving a harsh woman out of her chair before catching Alice’s eye and patting the top of it. 

So for the next twenty minutes or so, Alice sat on the hard edge of a desk, watching the other women sprawled out on the floor and envying their pants and light blouses and their sheer level of comfort. Comfort in their clothes, their friendships, their lives.  

And as Alice listened to Gloria talk, all she could think about was Phyllis. 

About how Phyllis talked. Lectured. So polished, refined, proper. Everything she stood for. Everything Alice had longed to be for so long. 

And how Gloria talked, so raw, so unfiltered. With “fuck”s and “shit”s and crude language.

The first time the word had dropped from her mouth, Alice had flinched and Flo had laughed. But after that, every one of those vulgar words made her sit up straighter, hold her head higher. Built an empowerment in her that she didn’t know she was capable of. 

Gloria talked for what felt like forever. What felt like three seconds. And Alice clung to her every word. But then Betty stood up and folded an argument into her point, and as they hashed out their differences of opinions, Alice found herself locking her eyes anywhere but on them. 

She had never been one for conflict, but she felt especially uncomfortable about being witness to an argument that had clearly been brewing for some time, hashed out over what had to have been multiple meetings. And everyone seemed to have something to say, jutting in and taking sides and calling people out by name. 

Alice pinned her eyes down on the desk, tracing the mess there and thinking absently that she should straighten it out for them, when something caught her eye. 

It was one of Phyllis’s newsletters, buried under a pile of papers. And some sort of liquid had been spilt on it, because the ink had bled across the page and dried, crumpled and misshapen.  

There was something about it, though. Something about the way that Phyllis’s face was disfigured, her smile morphed into something wicked and sickening, that made Alice almost grin. Phyllis wasn’t a queen here. She didn’t own these women. 

They owned themselves. 

~~~ 

Alice wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after Gloria finished speaking, a large group of women swarmed around her, their questions rapid-fire. 

It started with a lot of “why did you decide to come” and “aren’t you that girl with the banana bread?” 

Jill had jumped in, answering a few questions for her and defending her to these women. But the more Jill talked, the more specific their questions became. Until Jill couldn’t answer for her anymore and Alice was trapped in a whirlwind of ethical questions that she didn’t know the answers to. 

She didn’t have Jill. She didn’t have Phyllis. She was left alone to fend for herself, and she was utterly ill-prepared. 

“How do you feel about abortion?”

“I- I’m not sure...?”

“How do you feel about gay rights?”

“I don’t know, I-“

“What about racial equality?”

She paused. 

Phyllis flashed through her mind, the smile that she had given Alice after letting her get pummeled by Frances. After lifting her up and stoking her ego and sending her to the ring to be slaughtered. For standing up for what she believed in. For standing up to that horrible, racist woman. 

So Alice said what she would have never been allowed to say with her own group of friends. What Phyllis would have breezed past and glossed over and shamed her for. She told the truth. 

“I think it’s important, and honestly I’m not sure why it’s still an issue.” 

There was a long pause, and Alice held her breath as the women around her exchanged looks. And then— 

“She’s one of us girls!” 

A cheer erupted from the group, and Jill patted her on the shoulder, beaming. 

“Somebody get her a button!” 

Alice blushed as someone leaned forward, pinning an ERA button to her blazer. And as she scrambled for something to say, Gloria smiled.

“Now you’re one of us.”

One of them. 

It felt good, being accepted. Making friends on her own. Making her own connections and deciding her own beliefs. Having a part of her life that was completely hers. Not Phyllis’s. Not her husband’s. Not her children’s. 

Utterly and entirely hers. 

But just as she made to say something, to thank them and tell them how much their gesture meant, a song filled the room. 

One of them started it. She didn’t know which one. But suddenly there was a tune threading through the air — something familiar, but words that she didn’t recognize. 

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the flame of women’s rage,” 

And as soon as another voice joined, Alice pinpointed them, whirling on the sound. 

“Kept smoldering for centuries, now burning in this age.”

Soon a group of four of them huddled in a corner and flicking through papers joined in, the sound breaking through the chatter and filling the room.

“We no longer will be prisoners in that same old gilded cage,”

And on the last line all of them joined in, Gloria passing around cups as she sang.

“That’s why we’re marching on!” 

Alice found herself watching Gloria carefully, the way her smile lit up the room as she sang. How genuinely the words fell out of her mouth, with the crinkle of her eyes and the fire behind them. 

She was jolted out of her daze by Flo’s hand on her arm. 

“Come on, Alice. Sing with us!”

She held her hand up placatingly, adjusting her blazer and offering a small smile. “Oh, that’s alright. I— I don’t know this song.”

“It’s easy. Here, see?” she took Alice’s hands, looking her dead in the eye as she sang. “Move on over or we’ll move on over you. Move on over—“

“Or we‘ll move on over you,” Alice tried, nodding along with the gentle bouncing of her hands. The next line was the same as the first, and Flo smiled at her as she sang. But the next line changed, and Alice didn’t realize, and she messed up, and her hands slid from Flo’s. 

She shook her head out. “I can’t— I shouldn’t—“ 

But Flo’s smile never faltered. She didn’t acknowledge Alice’s slip up. All she did was nod and lead Alice over to a couch, sitting down next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“That’s alright. Just listen then, okay? Just listen.”

“You have told us to speak softly, to be gentle and to smile,”

Alice found her eyes wandering around the room again, at the way everyone was singing in unison. The way their arms were wrapped around each other, glasses raised high as they laughed and cheered. 

“Expected us to change ourselves with every passing style.”

Alice tugged at her blazer again, swallowing roughly. Phyllis had picked it out for her. Was insistent that Buck would love it. And she had been right. But Alice hated it.

“Said the only work for women was to clean and sweep and file. That’s why we’re marching on!”

Something hit Alice like a brick, and she realized that she didn’t want to be wearing her blazer anymore. Didn’t want to conform to someone else’s definition of perfect. Of a woman. So she stood as the chorus came around again, unbuttoning it one snap at a time. 

“Move on over, or we’ll move on over you,” Alice tried, singing softly under her breath as she unpinned her ERA button, fitting the pin into her silk shirt instead and not caring if it pulled the fabric. “Move on over, or we’ll move on over you.”

She could feel the eyes on her, Flo’s from the back, Jill’s from her right. And she met Gloria’s eyes across the room, watching her like a hawk as she folded her jacket and hung it over her arm. 

“Move on over, or we’ll move on over you,” Alice sang again, a little bit louder this time, and Gloria nodded as she smirked.

“For women’s time has come.”

Someone nudged Gloria from the side and broke their eye contact, Gloria grinning at the woman and pulling herself off the wall to join a small group by the door. She swayed with them, singing the next part loudly. Almost baring her teeth. 

“It is we who’ve done your cooking, done your cleaning, kept your rules.”

A woman slammed her cup down, making Alice jump as she screamed over everyone else. 

“We gave birth to all your children and we taught them in your schools.”

Phyllis flashed through Alice’s mind again, her perfect figure, her six children. How easily she lost the baby weight. Like it was her job. 

And then Jill was next to her, pulling the blazer from Alice’s arms and threading their fingers together.

“We’ve kept the system running but we’re laying down our tools,” she sang softly, tugging Alice over to the group at the front of the room with a smile.

“That’s why we’re marching on!” they all shouted in unison, cheering and taking a drink.

And Alice thought that she was starting to get the hang of it, taking a sip from Jill’s cup as the chorus came around again. 

It didn’t take long for her eyes to find Gloria in the large group, surrounded by women and singing loudly as she laughed. Alice tracked her glasses, her long hair, her pants. And when she realized that Gloria was staring right back at her, she flushed a deep red. 

Alice ducked her head as the next verse started, reaching to tug at her blazer before realizing it wasn’t there. She didn’t have anything to hide behind. Nothing to straighten, nothing to perfect. 

Just herself, open and vulnerable and unprotected.

“You think that you can buy us off with crummy wedding rings,”

Alice’s thumb brushed her ring absently, Buck flitting through her mind before she brushed him away.

“You never give us half the profit that our labor brings.” 

And then it was Phyllis, pushing her up to the podium and praising her accomplishments, and then sticking her out on the front lines to do all of her dirty work. Something hard settled over Alice’s heart, and she pursed her lips as she nodded with the next line.

“Our anger eats into us, we’ll no longer bend to kings,”

“That’s why we’re marching on,” Alice said, her voice firm. Because she was finished. She was finished bending and bowing and changing who she was based on what someone else decided she should be. She was finished. 

Gloria’s arm was around her before she knew what was happening, squeezing Alice to her as everyone sang the next part loudly. Angrily. 

“We have broken through our shackles, now we sing a battle song.”

And they all stomped in unison, raising their cups.

“We march for liberation and we’re many thousands strong,”

Gloria shouted “millions” over the chorus of “thousands” and Alice couldn’t help but giggle, letting herself be jostled by the woman’s arm around her shoulders. Gloria looked down at her, beaming, and grabbed her hand. 

Someone one her other side grabbed her free hand and raised it in the air. Alice beamed. 

“We’ll build a new society, we’ve waited much too long.”

Gloria squeezed her hand.

“That’s why we’re—“ 

“Marching on!” Alice yelled loudly, earning a huge cheer from the group. 

And in that second, with everyone cheering for her, Alice found what she had been lacking this entire time. No. Not lacking. What had been suppressed within her, with every child she bore and every dinner she made and every curler she wore and every comment she swallowed. 

Her freedom. 

And when she sang the chorus one last time, practically screamed the words as anger and hurt and a need for justice boiled up inside of her, she felt free. She felt accepted. She felt heard. 

And maybe that wasn’t so bad after all. 

“For women’s time has come!” 

[seulgiology]

hugs and kisses | na jaemin

pairings: boyfriend!jaemin x girlfriend!reader

words: 1.6k

genre: fluff

synopsis: jaemin helps his girlfriend when she comes to him stressed because of school. (lmao sorry i’m bad at these)

warnings: lowercase intended bc i wrote this on my phone, but otherwise, none :P

a/n: hiii hello it’s adnim 2 here with some jaemin fluff for ya. wrote this while eating a variety of foods and jaemin has been on my mind a lot lmao so here y’alls go. wrote this on my phone btw so like if there are any typos, sorryyy i didn’t really go over it like i should’ve.

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

--

there was light chatter being heard through the class you were in. you weren’t a part of the chatter however because you were too focused on your assignment. 

for some reason, you couldn’t get your head fully focused today and you were getting frustrated. it seemed like the universe was against you today because suddenly a classmate of yours is sitting next to you. 

you slowly look up at her but don’t say anything, just give a curt nod of your head. “hey y/n, i noticed you over here working hard. do you need help?” she kindly asks. 

your eyes that was skimming the words on your laptop for the tenth time, suddenly stop. they narrow instead and your lips purse. your chest caves in and you feel your nose burning, throat constricting. you were going to cry. 

“i, uh— i’m fine but thank you,” you assure her, clearing your throat and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

you keep your eyes on your laptop, refusing to meet her gaze and it stays like that until she leaves. you release a shaky breath, not knowing what has you on edge today. 

maybe it’s the stress with the finals coming up next week and you’re overworking yourself. you couldn’t help it though as it was such a flaw of yours. you were up late last night going over a practice question that you just couldn’t get. it’s probably why you’re extra sensitive to your emotions today. 

when the class is dismissed, you pack up your stuff and leave the classroom. your feet are suddenly moving quicker as you walk the hallways filled with students. 

you’re just looking for one person. this one person is the only one who can calm you down. it was the end of the day and you know he had classes today. you weren’t sure what his last class was but you know it wasn’t in the same building as yours. his locker was in the same building and you knew if he wasn’t there, he was waiting for you in front of your building with his friends. 

you go to your locker first and grab your coat, putting it on over your clothes and putting your beanie on. your gloves and scarf are placed on after that and then you're rushing to look for him.

when you go to his locker, you whine under your breath when he isn’t there. feeling your emotions building up again, you sniffle, trying to keep them at bay so you won’t burst down crying in front of everyone.

the students aren’t in a hurry but they’re not trying to stay longer at school. shuffling around them was a struggle as well because when someone would even bump into you, it felt like you would just cry then and there. 

the entrance of the building couldn’t have appeared sooner. you knew he was waiting for you in the front of the building and that motivated you to push through the doors, the cold winter air slamming into you and causing a quick shiver. 

you walk down the few stairs and when your feet meet the cobblestoned ground, your eyes dart around in search of your boyfriend. there you see him near a tree with his friends, laughing wholeheartedly and saying something afterward. 

when your eyes tear up, you’re not sure whether it’s because you’re relieved to see him or your emotions are about to fully come to the front. it didn’t take you long to get to him and when you did, you made sure he saw you first. 

your hand touches his arm and he jumps a bit before looking down at you. a grin is immediately seen on his face but it’s slowly wiped away when he scans over your face. he knew something was wrong, he always did. 

his friends greeted you but you just nodded politely. jaemin didn’t say anything to you just yet and instead tangled your fingers with his, wanting to hold you closer but not wanting that to be your breaking point. 

“okay guys, we'll catch up later, take care of yourselves and get home safe,” jaemin tells them with a short nod of his head. they bid him farewell too and then the two of you are walking the route to his apartment. 

“princess, are you okay?” he softly asks, this time his arm wraps around your shoulder so you’re close to his side. his warmth was a stark contrast to the cold air but it made you relax a bit. 

“let’s talk when we reach your place,” is what you whisper and jaemin frowns at the tone of your voice, but complies nonetheless. 

usually, these days after classes, jaemin and you would go to this small cafe on campus to get some hot chocolate and maybe work on some homework there. other times, his friends would join. but if that wasn’t happening then the two of you would either go to his or your place. 

he knew you guys could go to the cafe any

other day, today would just have to wait because you’re more important. 

it took the two of you under fifteen minutes to reach his apartment. your feelings were pushing to the front the closer you got and when you guys reached his door inside, he let go of your hand to unlock his front door. 

jaemin closes the door behind you and it’s silent as the two of you take your winter wear off, replacing shoes with slippers. “let’s go to my room,” jaemin suggests and you can only nod, letting him take your hand and guide you to his room. 

you don’t even get to sit on his bed before you’re bursting into tears. the sobs shake your body and they’re so heart wrenching it hurts. 

jaemin’s eyes widen when seeing you break down but he jumps into action. his arms wrap around you, rubbing your back and running his fingers through your hair soothingly. his heart breaks hearing you cry so heavily and he doesn’t know the cause of it. he wanted to make you feel better but he would just hold you until you were ready to talk. 

even though you’re crying, you’re able to register your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your upper body to the best he can. it’s as if he’s trying to protect you from the world and it makes you want to cry harder. 

“i’m sorry,” you manage to say between your sobs, pulling back slightly to messily wipe at your face. “crying like this out of nowhere, i suck,” you laugh sadly. 

“hey, no no, it’s okay y/n,” jaemin assures you, cupping your hot cheeks in his hands and wiping at them with his thumbs. “don’t apologize for having feelings, okay? it’s okay for you to cry and you don’t suck.”

you look into his warm, brown eyes with your own watery eyes and sniffle. you hug him again due to all the emotion you’re feeling towards him now, and he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, squeezing you lightly. 

“do you want to talk about it, princess?” jaemin softly asks. you nod your head stiffly against his chest and jaemin pulls away, leading you to his bed. the two of you sit down and face each other. 

jaemin’s hands hold one of yours as your other hand is occupied with wiping at your tear-stained cheeks. 

“i’m a bit overwhelmed, i think,” you mumble, confusing yourself with your choice of words. “i don’t know if it’s because of the finals coming up and the fact i’ve been pushing myself past my limits. maybe it is but i don’t know, it’s just too much at once.”

you felt an apology at the tip of your tongue for your bad explanation and for wasting his time. but before you could, jaemin is pinching your chin in between his thumb and index finger, staring intensely into your orbs. 

“i know what you’re about to say,” he says and the light tone of his voice makes your bottom lip quiver. “you’re probably thinking you shouldn’t have said what you just said and that it’s silly. but y/n, it’s okay to feel the way you’re feeling right now. i can’t tell you what to do but i can suggest you take a break and try to slow down. i’ll be here for you like i always am, okay? if you decide to push yourself past your limits then i’m going right past them with you.” 

his words echo in your head for a solid minute as the two of you sit in silence. your lips part in awe to him because you just can’t believe he has so much patience for you. but at the same time, you can believe it. the love and adoration you feel for him can’t even be put into words so you want to show it instead. 

you grab the back of his neck and bring his face a little closer. jaemin seems to get the message and tilts your head upwards, placing his lips over yours. 

it’s a slow kiss but it’s enough to express your emotions. his hand moves from your face when you decide to swing your left leg over his legs, now straddling him and tangling your hands in his hair. “thank you,” you pant out, kissing him harder than before. 

“i’m always here for you, princess,” he whispers, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. you keep your eyes closed and caress the hairs on the nape of his neck. 

“always.” 

[ghost-in-the-hella]

Since you wrote this beautiful Valentine's story a while ago, are you gonna do the same thing for Easter maybe? :) Greetings, Doe

Thank you! If you only knew how many unfinished holiday amberprice and/or pricefield fanfics I have sitting in my google drive... I’ve been sitting on an amberprice Thanksgiving fic and a Halloween fic for something like two years now, plus I’ve got bits and pieces of other Halloween ones, a couple of Valentine’s ones for both amberprice and pricefield, a post-Bae ending pricefield multi-holiday fic, and on and on and on...

But here’s an Easter amberprice (I’m assuming that’s what you’re asking for) I just cranked out in, like, an hour or so. I haven’t so much as reread it and I normally agonize over my holiday fics for days if not weeks (or even years) so it’s very probably riddled with typos, repetitive phrases, and other nuisances. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. (Oh, incidentally, it’s supposed to be a phone conversation between Rachel and Chloe, which I don’t think I made at all clear in the fic itself)

---

“I thought you were the one who’s all into holidays and stuff. I mean, you dragged me out to that Blackhellaween party, you made me celebrate Valentine’s Day for the first time since I was a kid, you--”

“I like Valentine’s Day because it’s romantic, and Halloween is all about costumes and drama. Easter is just… boring.”

“A giant rabbit travels all over the world breaking into people’s houses and crapping out eggs and candy, and that’s boring to you?”

“...Chloe. You’re seventeen years old. Are you seriously telling me that you still believe in the Easter Bunny??”

“Uh, no, but I seriously believe in candy! And breaking into people’s houses.”

“Well, that would definitely make Easter more exciting around here…”

“I gather your folks aren’t the ‘dressing up as the Easter Bunny to surprise the kid with candy’ types.”

“Um, what? Is that a thing??”

“It was a thing when my dad was alive.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you’re not serious.”

“Hella fucking serious, cross my heart and hope to die. Every year we’d stay up past midnight watching Saturday Night Live together, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“So every year a little before midnight, my dad would start yawning and stretching, and then he’d claim he’s too tired to watch the rest and he’d go off to bed. Then, like, fifteen minutes later there’d be a knocking at the door.”

“Oh my god. You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not creative enough to make something like this up.”

“Untrue, but go on.”

“Okay, so my mom would act all mystified about who could possibly be knocking on our door so late - she’s a shit actor, by the way - and would ask me to get the door. Y’know, like any responsible parent would ask their young daughter to do after midnight when a strange knocking sounds on the door.”

“You were how old?”

“I don’t remember when he started; I was probably, like, four. He kept doing it until he died, so I was, like, fourteen the last time.”

“Holy shit.”

“Anyway, so I’d open the door, and there would be this-- haha-- this-this fuckin’... giant rabbit-- ha, god, he was such a dork…”

“Ha-ha-h-holy shit, no way--”

“Yes way; there’d be this fuckin’ huge, like, six-foot-- hah-- pink bunny with a --hahhh-- basket full of candy--”

“Hahahah, oh my god, Chloe--”

“Hahhhh… ahhh… God.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s amazing. He was still doing that when you were fourteen??”

“Yeah, he’d probably still be doing it. I’d be, like, begging him not to - I’m too old for this, you’re such a dork, blah blah blah - and he’d just… do it anyway. And then, of course, the rabbit would leave, and my dad would come back downstairs ten minutes later to ask us if anything strange happened.”

“He did not.”

“He did.”

“Wow. Yeah, I cannot imagine either of my parents ever doing anything like that.”

“James Amber in a bunny suit is something his political rivals would probably pay good money to see.”

“I’ll bet. I don’t think the stick up his butt would fit into one, though.”

“Hah, good point.”

“So did your dad, like, rent the costume every year, or did he actually own an Easter bunny costume?”

“No idea. I think it was the same one every year, so he probably owned it. It’s probably in a box in the attic somewhere, assuming it hasn’t been donated or trashed to make room for Step-dick’s stuff. He just loved doing stuff like that, though. He’d dress up as Santa, too. I believed in Santa for probably an embarrassing amount of time because of that.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Adorably dorky.”

“Just the way I like it.”

“Lucky me. So what does your family do, then?”

“We go to church.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

“‘Kay. I mean, we used to do that, too, but we also did, like, Easter egg hunts and stuff.”

“And bunny costumes, apparently.”

“You know it! So, like, no baskets, no candy, no dying eggs, nothing? Just church?”

“My mom makes pysanky.”

“...She what now?”

“She uses wax to make really ridiculously elaborate and ornate Easter eggs with traditional Ukranian designs.”

“Uh, wow. That sounds… cool?”

“They’re beautiful. She’s really, really good at it. She taught me how to make them years ago, but mostly she just does it herself. It takes a lot of patience and a steady hand. I usually lose patience.”

“So not exactly a fun family bonding activity.”

“Not exactly, no.”

“I’m guessing they don’t hide them around the house for you to find…”

“They sit in an artfully arranged row on the mantel.”

“Ah.”

“And then we dress up in our ‘best’ clothes and go for the traditional family photo op at church. James hobnobs with his political frenemies, Mom and I do our best to look like the perfect, happy family, and then we go home and I try to scrub the dirty feeling of lies out of my skin.”

“That’s… Wow. Fuck, Rach.”

“You guys did Easter egg hunts?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we did. Max would come over the night before and we’d dye eggs together and make a huge mess. Then she’d have to go home because her parents wanted her home for Easter, but she’d come over again the next day after church. My dad would’ve hidden plastic eggs all over the house and yard, and Max and I would spend at least an hour looking for them. They were full of toys and candy and stuff. It was awesome.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“It was. So, wait, you’ve never had an Easter egg hunt? Like, ever?”

“Never.”

“That’s hella tragic, dude.”

“It is what it is. I rock the shit out of Halloween, at least.”

“I mean, yeah, you do, but--”

“It’s fine, Chloe. Seriously, not every holiday has to be a big deal.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess. Last few years have been hella boring, to be honest. Like, your Easter sounds exciting compared to mine these days. Mom and the Step-douche gave up on even trying to drag me to church, so I’ll just be hanging out here all day. I’d probably just embarrass them, anyway.”

“That sucks. But hey, I’ll come see you after church tomorrow, right? So that’s already better than our last Easters.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, that’s true. Hey, you wanna meet at the junkyard tomorrow? Trash up your best clothes?”

“Fuck yes. I’ll see if I can smuggle some wine out of church.”

“If anyone can do it, you can. I believe in you, Rachel Amber.”

“Ha, like you still believe in the Easter Bunny?”

“...Fuck, you’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Aw, what kind of a friend would I be if I did?”

---

(As a personal side note, no, my dad did not dress up as the Easter Bunny. My older cousin did, though. Every year she’d go out to sleep over at a friend’s house, and then in the middle of the rest of us watching SNL together we’d get a “surprise visit” from the Easter Bunny. We’re Jewish, btw.)

[darkestwolfx]

Rigged for Disaster - Re-Review #50

So, ‘Inferno’ has been posted about fifteen minutes ago, and this should now be posted like I have scheduled! Due to CITV changing the episode air times, again, the Re-Review Series will be returning to it’s original 6:30pm upload time. Except today, there are two. Inferno was like a bonus, and this is the actual episode that aired.

Unfortunately, as I’m still working, I didn’t really have the time to write two for you today, but I’ve managed to do it by making this one a little shorter (and possibly rushed), so if things are missing, I apologise (but you did get two, so forgiveness?) and I may well come back and edit at a later point.

So, first off, I adore the fish in the opening shot! But I couldn’t find a decent picture of him :(

Secondly, anyone else getting TOS ‘Atlantic Inferno’ vibes?

“The crew’s worried about that storm, boss!”

“They should be more worried about their jobs! Tell them to get back to work.”

Well, this guy can be added to the Hall of Shame set up in my last review.

“Flying car?”

Yep. She’ll teach you a lesson mate.

“Ready Parker?”

“Ready, M’Lady.”

These two, are always ready.

“Rig Supervisor Malloy, I assume.”

Malloy, from ‘Brink of Death’ (TOS)...

“She’s no hordinary do-gooder, mate. ‘ere’s the contract to prove hit.”

“What my driver means to say, is I’ve just become the owner of this oil rig.”

“Is she for real?”

“Yes. I am. And my first order of business is to decommission oil production on this dreadful rig. It’s a disaster just waiting to happen. And hazardous for everyone on board.”

Well, since you’ve said it Lady Penelope, shall we just dive in?

“Oooh-wah! *Rig breaks apart and guy falls to the floor (is the eye patch coincidence or do we think he’s lost an eye on this rig?* I’m ok!”

Point proven. Disaster #1 (although a minute one)

“That’s the overboard alarm system.”

I’m honestly surprised - with the state of this rig - that they have one, and even more so that it works!

“Someone’s gone over the edge!”

“Help!

Disaster #2. Look at her, hanging on and screaming for dear life. That’s obviously what you get for siding with the “New Boss” when your old boss is a little like a pirate criminal.

“Parker, have you driven one of those before.”

“hI can drive hanything, Miss.”

“Take it down. Ahh! Parker!”

“Sorry. ‘ard to get the knack for this hone.”

Thought you said you could drive anything, Parker? I had complete and utter faith in you, as well.

Speaking of Kayo as well, why is she there? She just turned up out of the Shadows. Makes sense I suppose.

Anyhow, onto Disaster #3. Fire!

“Steady Sherbet.”

“Woah Parker!”

“Sorry, M’Lady! This his heaven ‘arder than the last hone.”

Yeah, maybe next time we should say almost anything. To be strictly correct.

“hIs hit supposed to sound like that?”

“No! Get to the other side now!”

Sherbet! Did you see Parker’s face at the little paws scrabbling for purchase.

“hUp we go!”

“Parker, you saved Sherbet!”

“We’ve hall make mistakes, M’Lady. Get hoff!”

You can tell the level of affection has changed though. Parker doesn’t really mean that anymore.

And that was Disaster #4.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

“That looks more like a disaster than a situation.”

Thank you, Virgil.

“You’ve got to evacuate before the whole thing goes under.”

“The submerged platform is damaging the pipe.”

“We’re talking thousands of barrels worth of oil spilling into the ocean.”

Disaster #5 in the making.

“I’m going to remain on board and keep the pipe safe. As they say, the owner always goes down with the rig.”

“I don’t think anyone says that.”

“Well they should.”

“Parker, fire up FAB One.”

“Right haway, M’Lady.”

“So, he’s good to drive?”

“This one’s a little more his style.”

A lot more his style, thank you. And I think Parker probably could drive most things. Just not things you find on an oil rig.

“It worked! The platform has stopped sinking.”

“Something’s popping hup hon the hinfrared sensor. Crikey! There’s people inside.”

And here comes Disaster #6.

Where’s Virgil? We could really do with him right about now.

“But Mr Gordon’s the honly hone with that sort of diving equipment.”

The look on her face was enough to say that Parker was wrong. I wonder why Brains was making her a diving suit... Hmm?

So, we’ve got Doyle using the crane, and Kayo assisting with Thunderbird Shadow, whilst Parker is dog-sitting and Lady Penelope is going for swim. I think that covers it in like the three minutes-ish I have left to type all of this.

“M’Lady, hI’ve got hevery faith hin you, but that new heva suit ‘asn’t been tested.”

“And I can’t think of a better time to try it. Who knew Brains had such an eye for fashion.”

It does look kinda fashionable. Look at Sherbet! He always looks fashionable too. 

*Bark Bark*

“hOh no! M’Lady, something is coming this way! Something big!”

“Well that is rather distressing.”

My advice - as someone who cannot swim and really doesn’t big bodies of water - get back in the car. Fast.

Or just ignore me and hang on for dear life. That works.

“Don’t worry, Sherbet, she’ll be hokay. hI ‘ope.”

She always is. In fact, all of you are. You’re a pretty good team. Although the upset when they think they’ve lost her and then the hand on the window. Love this scene.

“hAwww, she’s making me blush.”

Thunderbird Shadow really can do a bit of heavy lifting. A bit. I mean, the crane struggled and Shadow’s engines struggled and the platform tumbled.

“I can’t hold it any longer. It’s pulling me down.”

It was nice to see TAG try and write a rescue for Kayo though, although they definitely wrote her ship more for bad guy chasing, not even dual purpose.

“Without the crane there’s nothing we can do!”

“Anyone need a lift?”

So Virgil arrives to save the day by doing some heavy lifting - and dissing of Kayo’s ship.

“It can barely fly, let alone lift anything.”

It’s a true observation based on previous efforts, but the idea to use Shadow as  grip does actually work. I will admit I was skeptical.

“It worked!”

It did! Magically all of the above Disaster’s were fixed or averted! How grand is that!

Honestly, I’m sorry I couldn’t write anymore (or all of this in a better way), but my fingers are tired from trying to type quickly without making any typos so this is what it is.

See you all tomorrow!

[scribe-the-write-thing]

Phantoms

Taglist: @authorified @quilloftheclouds @ps-nippets @graceomeallain @cawolters

More Marco-Jess action, bc I slowly got more and more in love with their dynamic, ayoo.

So for this, I tried seeing what I could do if I wrote for fifteen minutes straight without going back and editing until the end -- you know, typos and such. This is what I got.

Yeah i went a little over time but still??

“Can you believe that I loved you once?” Marco asks -- but it’s not really a question directed at her, it’s so detached, so vacant, as if he’s thinking out loud.

Jess moves her hand over his chest, flexes her fingers against the pounding thrum of his heart, the warm rise and fall, staring into that single hazel eye -- watching. There’s no coldness there anymore, no guarded glare; he’s all so startlingly readable.

“You still love me.” She replies; though it’s half a realisation to herself. She can see it, behind the pained look, the concern, the anger -- buried behind it all is that same doting adoration she had seen all those years ago.

He pauses, seems to take a moment after that. And then he’s offering her a thin-lipped, sardonic smile.

“I love Jessamine.” He says, with a shrug of his shoulders -- exhausted, tragic. “But I don’t know quite what to make of Jesse, I’m afraid.”

“You think I’m so different?” She murmurs, low, brow furrowing as she looks up at him. “I’m still Jessa. Just... grown, now. The world changes fast; I had to adapt.”

“Jessamine was the girl who saved me when no one else would. Who risked herself, rather than leave me behind. I would fight every day for her, would lay down my life for her. Because she would do the same for me.” He reaches forward, pushes a stray strand of hair out of her face, tucks if behind her ear, tenderly. “Jesse is just another Emmerson. A hollow shell for his memory to fill.”

He says that as if it’s a bad thing.

“And that’s what you think I am?” She says, softly, reaching up for him. “A shell of myself?”

“No.” Marco whispers back -- and it’s said almost like a confession. “You’ll always have Jessa’s heart. It’s the one thing he could never rip out of you; the one thing he could never twist. And, I suppose, that’s why you’ll always be with me. Emmerson placed a splinter of himself in you, just as you did to me.”

She snorts, a half-laugh -- though she’s not even sure what’s amusing.

“You can’t forget me.” Jess guesses, trying for a tight half-smile of her own. “Got under your skin, did I?”

“Like an itch I can’t get out.” Marco replies -- with such a cold seriousness that it’s startling, and the smile’s slipped from her expression as soon as it’s appeared. He leans down to meet her, forehead resting against hers for a moment; and they’re so close, she can feel the warmth of his breath. “Did you remember me, at all?”

She’s tempted to lie, to laugh it off and deny and walk away, and yet-

“Yes. I dreamed of you. Wondered how things may have been...”

“Could we have ever worked?” He says -- and again, his voice has that dream-like quality, of thoughts coming to be spoken. “Was there any moment where...”

Jess shakes her head, closing her eyes with a soft sad smile, keeping leant into the touch.

“Never in this world, no.”

Emmerson would never have allowed it. And no matter how many times he had asked her to run away with him -- the call of the ship had always brought her back.

He doesn’t reply to that -- and when she opens her eyes, she notes that his is closed. It’s the closest he’s ever looked to serene.

“If it’s any consolation,” she begins, gently, “could you believe that I also loved you once?”

“Believing it wouldn’t make it true.”

But it is. She wants to scream at him. It is true. It’s always been true. But instead she keeps silent, close to him

Their lips brush, tenderly -- and she imagines, for a moment, what it would be like if she moved in. Would he push back, too? Reject her?

“Part of me still does love you, even now.” She says -- a confession of her own. It’s a different sort of love; not as intense or explosive, or warm-feeling as Theodor. This is sadder, more mournful; some howling thing in her chest.

He exhales, lightly; before pulling away entirely, eye opening, and he disentangles himself, stepping away from her -- and she has to curl her hands into fists at her side to stop herself reaching out for him again.

“We should have ran when we were younger. Gotten away from this all before the claws were sunken in too deep.”

“We could still run.” She offers up -- it’s irrational. But aren’t all dreams, really? “Together this time.”

“Would I be running with Jessa? Or with Jesse? What scares me is that I don’t think that even you know the answer to that.”

[taibu]

I have literally zero knowledge about Genyatta stuff, but have a word anyway! Let's see, umm... How about "shock"?

SORRYYYY it took so long to respond! I started writing for this but then my browser restarted and wiped all the stuff out and I got really pissed and lost interest to the story I originally planned and and and.... Anyway, I started from the scratch and re-wrote the story completely!Once again, sorry it took so long! I'm happy you still send a prompt despite not knowing anything about the ship! It means a world to me!

Shock

Genji's pace was quick, little jumpy, as he made his way towards his master's room in the monastery. He had heard from Mondatta last week that today was the day Zenyatta had walked out of the omnium. While the omnics usually didn't celebrate birthdays, and monks rarely cherished material goods, Genji still wanted to give something to his master. Not only to congratulate him for his gained years, but to show his gratitude towards his master for everything the omnic had done to him so far. And thanks to Mondatta's guidance he thought he had the perfect gift too!

Genji had never been inside Zenyatta's room. Not because the omnic had never invited him or let him in, quite the opposite. But because they preferred to have their studies, meditation and sparring, outside or in the common-room. Genji hardly let anyone in his room himself, so he didn't want to force anyone to let him in anyone else's, that was just fair. When he finally found Zenyatta's room's door, a flush of nervousness filled him. What if Zenyatta didn't like the present? What if he took it as an insult? What if Genji screwed this up and would say something dumb?

Genji took few deep breaths and calmed himself. It was Zenyatta. He would never feel insulted over anything. And Mondatta had assured Genji that this would be a perfect gift, and Mondatta had never said one lie in his life, Genji believed. As for his own tongue, well... at least it would amuse Zenyatta if he slipped up. He took one more deep breath and knocked on the door, hiding the gift behind his back.

Soon Genji heard Zenyatta's light footsteps behind the door and before long, the door opened and Zenyatta peeked from behind it. His lights got brighter as his optics met Genji.

"Good morning my student! I hope my chronometers aren't failing me and you're not here to pick me up for our morning meditation, since I'm fairly sure I still have fifteen more minutes to prepare for that."

Genji let out a laugh. "No master, your inner clock isn't failing you. I... just wanted to come and, umh..." oh good, he was chickening out. Deep breaths, he told himself. Zenyatta was so very patient with him. Genji swallowed once and puffed his chest. "Mondatta told me today was a very special day to you, so, um... Happy... birthday?" the cyborg took the present from behind his back and held it in front of the omnic.

It was a small potted plant. A sapling. For a cherry tree, to be exact. The pot was a standard shape, small and light, but painted in beautiful patters in green and gray. Genji had wanted to give Zenyatta something to remind him of once they would go on their separate ways (as much as it saddened Genji to think that he had to part from his master one day, he knew it was going to happen sooner or later), and a sakura-tree in pot with his colors in it seemed appropriate. Genji could not read the omnic feelings as well as the omnics themselves, but even he saw the surprise and... delight in his master's gestures. Hands brought on his mouth-piece in surprise, head tilting slightly, and a gentle gasp that escaped his voice-box. And the way he said the following words...

"Oh, Genji, my most brightest pupil! How did you know? How did you know that this is exactly what I've wished for for the longest time?" so gentle, so delighted, so... happy.

Genji blushed behind his mask. "Mondatta said you would enjoy something like this, so I asked what kind of plants you liked, and he said you'd be happy with anything. So... I got something to remind you of myself. It's a cherry-tree. Pink variety. Same ones they have in Hanamura."

Zenyatta took the pot in his fingers so gently, as if it was a living being (well, plants ARE alive, but you know what I mean), and held it close to his chest."I've wanted my own sakura ever since I first saw one! Thank you so much Genji!" Zenyatta said in such a happy tone Genji almost melted."Please, come in! Forgive the mess though, I rarely get visitors..." the omnic said, turning to go back in his room. Genji didn't want to pry, but he was indeed interested of what his master's room looked like on the inside. He found himself quite shocked when he did.

The whole room was like a jungle! Potted plants of different variety and kind in every nook and cranny. Colorful pots and strongly scented flowers filled the room almost wall to wall. The balcony was another place filled with plants of all kind, mostly tall ones and ones that preferred outside air. There was one mattress on the ground, with a pillow and a blanket, pile of books in the corner, a small table with a unlit candle on it and a bottle of basic oil omnics drank. Everything else was a plant of some kind. The mess Zenyatta had meant was some dry leaves on the floor. And seeing how many plants had leaves, maybe it was more than "some".

"Good Lord, Master! When Mondatta said you liked plants, I didn't expect THIS!" the cyborg gasped taking one step in to see better. Zenyatta placed the gift on the small table, next to the candle and bottle of oil, and started to move the other plants around, to make room to their new friend. The omnic let out a chuckle. "I suppose he didn't want to mention his brother's obsession."

Genji looked at Zenyatta masterfully move the plants around to create a small area for the sakura. His view wandered around and caught the quite cheap looking bed. The cyborg could imagine his master, laying there, head on the pillow, under the blanket, candle lit, reading one of the books and enjoying his oil, while surrounded by a literal jungle. He could almost feel himself fall asleep to the smell of the plants and the sounds of their leaves rustling in the wind on summer night when he slept windows open. The cyborg imagined himself laying there next to his master, in the small bed, close. So close. His head resting on the omnic's chest.

Genji had to stop himself before he lost himself in the thought."I think it's a nice obsession, at least. It fits you, master!" Genji said finally.Zenyatta turned around and Genji assumed he was smiling. "I'm glad my obsession hasn't chased you away. Thank you again for the wonderful gift, Genji. I'll cherish it as long as I'm in this form!""Shall we go and begin our morning meditation?" the omnic then asked."Actually..." Genji let out before being able to stop himself. "If you don't mind, I would like if we... had our meditation... here?"

Zenyatta tilted his head a bit, but soon let out a chuckle. "I suppose it is like sitting outside, with all of these leaved on the floor. I won't mind at all my student!"

Genji smiled under his mask. Maybe during the meditation he could let himself be lost in that sweet little fantasy on him and master sharing that awfully small bed of his and just... enjoy each others' company. Maybe.

"But in all seriousnes, we should clean up at least some of these before we sit down..." the omnic muttered mostly to himself. Genji let out a laugh.God above he loved this omnic to bits!

END

Not so fun fact: This was originally gonna be about how Zenyatta reacted to Mondatta's death. :)Actually fun fact: this was going to be about Genji finding out that Zenyatta was 15 years younger than him, but I decided to make it fluffy instead! I'll save that idea for later~

Sorry bout the typos, I’m tired and I need to sleep g’night!

AND YES! REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN! SEND ME THEM WORDS!!!

As for that anon that send me a prompt, I’ll write it tomorrow! I got ya number!

[slimcard]

The day I met Fast Jack

It’s been a year Today that Jack passed away and even though we haven’t known each other for many years, I feel sad. I decided to post an amended excerpt from my forthcoming book as an homage to Fast Jack Farrell.

 “I’m 76 years old and I want to leave a gambling legacy. I don’t want my hustling techniques to die with me.” - John “Fast Jack” Farrell

 January 21st, 2014 – I get a phone call from Fast Jack who is upset and yelling at me for criticizing his book.

But first, let’s put this day in context. It had been 4 years since I learned how to make strippers of all kinds. I had started selling gaff decks, mostly stripper decks, to magicians. I was starting to realise magicians did not know much about strippers except about Svengalis and the classic wedge stripper deck. Not many magicians knew about belly strippers, Ns, shakeouts and all those decks that came from the world of hustlers. Since I was a poker player before becoming a magician, I figured all magicians knew about those.

I was always looking for books about cheating in hopes of finding secrets about these infamous decks of cards. So, when I stumbled on Fast Jack The Last Hustler, a memoir by John Farrell, I instantly ordered it. It is a great read and I read it in a couple of days. I was fascinated by his story. I also liked the fact he was explaining some techniques, plays and gaffs. He explained different types of crooked dice and various techniques to cheat with a deck of playing cards. But there was a play he did using belly strippers that I couldn’t understand. While hustling the state champ of Maryland gin rummy player, Jack explained he would use belly strippers and strip the deck when his target was dealing the cards. That did not make any sense to me. You usually use a belly stripper to strip the cards you want when you are dealing the cards. For example, in poker, I could strip the four aces on top of the deck to riffle shuffle them in the correct position so the aces would end in my hand. This is called riffle stacking. But how can you use a belly stripper when it’s your opponent who has the deck of cards and is doing the shuffling? I figured it was a typo or that maybe he wrote the sentence the wrong way.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, it didn’t make any sense. I found a website address at the end of the book and figured it was the publishing house. So, I wrote an email asking if there was an erratum that mentioned some mistakes in the book. I completed the contact us file on the website but omitted the first three numbers of my phone number. I try never to give too much information on a website I don’t know much about.

Two days later, I get a short email that says if I am to criticize someone’s life work, I should at least have the decency to write a correct phone number. I decided to play along and I wrote my full phone number, saying I had forgotten to write the area code. But it was a weird email coming from a publishing house. Of course, at the time, I did not know Jack had self-published his book. Fifteen minutes later I get a phone call from a guy with a big deep voice asking me:

“What the fuck is the matter with my book?”

“Fast Jack?” I replied. It’s the only thing I could say that came to mind.

“Damn right it’s Fast Jack!” he said. “Why don’t you like my book?”

“I love your book, sir. That is why I took the time to write.” I said. That eased him up a little. I then began to explain to him why I wrote this email about the belly strippers he would use when his opponent was dealing the cards.

“Oh, you’ve never played gin rummy have you?” he answered. I told him he was right, that I played a lot of poker but never played gin rummy for money. He went on to explain that this was the reason I did not understand the procedure. In poker, after the shuffles, the dealer must have the person on his right do a straight cut (also called a square or dead cut) before dealing the cards to the other players. It’s a single cut that is supposed to prevent the dealer from having a stack of cards on top of the deck that could give him or his partner a winning hand. In gin rummy, you don’t do a single straight cut but a series of small running cuts so there is no location play from the opponent. Location play is when someone follows a series of card and estimate where they are in the deck to help them. If one of the cards comes up, they have a good idea of the next cards. It is a very powerful concept and on the limit of honest play. So Fast Jack was doing a series of running cuts that would allow him to put the gaffed cards (belly strippers) to the top of the deck or to take them out of play by bringing them to the bottom. It was brilliant! He was cheating the guy on his deal. He can’t be accused of cheating if he is not even shuffling and dealing the cards. Every hand Jack would win was dealt by his opponent.

Our phone conversation lasted for three hours. Every time we finished on a subject, he would start talking about something else and I guess I was asking the right questions that kept him talking. At one point, he asked me if I was a cheater or a magician. I tried dodging the question by saying I was more of a gaffer, a guy that makes cards for magicians. I thought he might stop talking to me if he thought I was a magician. At the same time, I wasn’t a cheater and I don’t think I could be a good enough liar to pretend I was. I just wanted him to continue talking.

“How old are you?” Jack asked. I told him I was 38 years old. “Oh, you’re too old to start cheating, you won’t have the stones to do it,” he answered back. “A guy has to be under 28 to start doing this, after that you wise up. You know, to be a good card mechanic, you have to know the game and be able to play it totally on the square. I used to handle my own against top gin rummy players without putting any moves.” Just like that we were on the subject of gin rummy again.

He also explained to me that it’s always better to let your opponent keep score. This way, it keeps him occupied and he won’t be paying attention to what is happening around him and you can always ask him what the score is, right before making a move. “And if he steals a point or two, perfect! He’ll think I am the sucker and that I am just lucky. He won’t suspect anything,” Jack told me.

He then went on to explain to me his theory on the foundations of cheating. I could tell he had already thought this through. Again, I had this feeling that he had kept so many secrets for so long as a road hustler that these days, he had to talk about it. His hustler’s days were gone and part of the reward was the right to talk about it. He didn’t say it like that, but that’s what I was picking up. Maybe when you get to a certain age after cheating for so long, you need to talk. It had happened in Las Vegas for me and it was happening now. That being said, I would learn later that Jack wasn’t completely out of the business. That is why he asked me my age. He figured maybe I could be a student. Fast Jack would always be a hustler. He was always looking for the right angle.

Here are the foundations of cheating according to Fast Jack

1. Know the game. You have to excel in a game before you even think about cheating. “I was a very good Gin Rummy player without cheating but if I cheated, then I was a world champ!”

2. Run-up a deck. This is the basic technique to know before pretending being a card hustler. For example, in poker, you would start by getting three kings to the basement (bottom of the deck). You then pull one card from the top and one of the bottom kings at the same time while doing an overhand shuffle. This technique is also called milking the deck or the Haymaker20. It is an overhand shuffle stacking technique. “The move to learn before any other move!”

3. Have a good clean-up. You have to get the deck or dice back without anybody suspecting anything. You know if a guy is just bragging or if he’s the real thing by the way he does his clean-up. “A lot of guys could do the moves to show off but they freeze once you put them in a game.”

4. “Always put the deck right under his nose.”

This last point I didn’t quite understand. “When you are using a crimp so that the player on the right cuts where you want, the key to make it work is to put the deck so close to him that he can’t really see the side of the deck. This way, he can’t determine where he wants to cut. He is going to go straight down for the deck and cut at the crimp. That is why you have to put it right under his nose!” Jack explained.

I knew a little about crimps and I had read about gamblers putting a bridge crimp in the deck by bending it sideways so the other player would cut to it. I always felt this technique wasn’t very discreet and was not a sure way to get to your stack of cards. But Jack was telling me he had found a sure way to do this. He called it his 10¢ move that made him thousands of dollars. That is the technique he was using when he was putting the deck right under his nose. Maybe it was because we were talking for more than 2 hours over the phone or because I had never seen it done in person, but I couldn’t quite understand his 10¢ move. I would finally understand it the moment I saw it for real in person but that is story for later.

We ended the conversation with Jack telling me about his projects. He wanted to film some videos of his moves with cards and dice. After the release of his DVD on gambling moves, he also wanted to offer some Skype lessons. Jack explained to me that the hustling world he knew is dying and that he was one of the last true hustlers.

“I’m 76 years old and I want to leave a gambling legacy. I don’t want my hustling techniques to die with me.” Jack told me before hanging up. We would talk a lot more over the next few years. I like to think we were friends. Jack was always loyal to his partners and to his friends. I think in his mind, both were the same. I miss you partner.

 Slim

[eddiespagheti]

you can hear it in the silence

Rosa tells him, When you know, you know. It’ll come to you and just because it hasn’t yet doesn’t mean it never will.

It all starts after Teddy’s gone. He’s sitting in the break room, eating a donut and Rosa asks, “Aren’t you kind of upset?” He shakes his head, confused by the question. He’s upset the precinct might be shutdown. He’s upset that he attended actual hell on Earth also known as jazz brunch.

But, not really.

So, he shrugs, takes another bite of his donut.

Rosa rolls her eyes, turning the chair around and sitting on it backwards. “Jake, he beat you to it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know, Teddy asked her to marry him before you did”

“Ah..” Jake doesn’t have an answer to that. He truthfully hadn’t thought of that before Rosa mentioned it but now that she has, Jake feels queasy. In the midst of all the uncertainty about the precinct, he hadn’t really thought of the fact that, wow, someone proposed to his girlfriend.

That someone being her ex-boyfriend and he did it in front of him. And Jake just stood there.

Wow, the self-loathing comes quick.

Rosa winces and starts to stand, patting his shoulder in sympathy. Jake grabs onto her arm in desperation, holding her in place. Rosa groans under her breath.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought of it.” he begins. Rosa tries to squirm out but Jake has a firm grip on her arm. “Getting engaged, that is. I mean…our relationship is steady, like super rock-steady.”

“Uh-huh.” Rosa tries to pry his fingers off, to no avail.

“Like, I could probably do like a hundred jumps on it and it wouldn’t cave in. That’s how steady it is.” He looks up to her, something akin to desperation in his eyes.

“Okay, I get it, Jake. I regret bringing it up.” Finally, in a brief moment of thoughtful Jake, she undoes his hand. She dances away before he can grab her again. Jake stares at the wall, lost in the forest of his thoughts. Rosa sighs again, knowing that she won’t be able to leave him here without a rock of guilt in her stomach.

She sits again, a little farther this time, and sighs before she says, “It’s not a big deal if you’re not ready to ask. Just because someone asked her doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Yeah, I know that.” He rubs his face and below hands pressed to lips he says, “I don’t think I’m ready though.” He drops his hands in guilt. “I mean, I know I love Amy but…I guess I’m…” he winces, ashamed. “not ready to be married.” He groans. “What if I’m never ready?”

He drops his eyes to the table and Rosa groans, hating the goddamn caring feel in her chest.

“Jake, I am going to tell you a very personal detail of my past and I will seriously kill you if you tell anybody this.” she says through gritted teeth. Jake widens his eyes, looks more serious than he’s ever looked in all of his life.

“Okay, I’m all ears.”

Rosa sighs, looks up at the light bulb and wonders why she’s even sharing this with him. She decides because the scared look on his face was kind of pathetic and because, fine, she cares about him. Ugh, she hates having feelings. “I was engaged once.”

His eyes widen automatically, mouth forming a million and one questions. Rosa shuts him up with a look. Jake nods and keeps mum, but the questions remain behind his eyes. “She was my high school girlfriend. We got engaged right after high school. It was young love.”

“Wait, right after high-” Rosa’s death glare slaps the rest of the question off his mouth. He nods for her to continue.

“I broke it off because I knew that I wasn’t ready.” she shrugs. “Just as I know I’m not ready now.”

Jake nods, his eyes solemn and thoughtful. Rosa stands again, pats his shoulder a little too hard. He winces but tries to play it off. “When you know, you know. It’ll come to you and just because it hasn’t yet doesn’t mean it never will.”

She leaves him to sit in the information. He rubs his shoulder now that she’s gone. Jake’s eyes travel through the window, sitting on Amy as she talks with Terry. Her back is pin straight and he can tell that she’s correcting Terry on something by the sigh he emits.

Jake smiles.

He’s not ready yet but he’s more than sure he’ll be ready soon.

There are fleeting moments in which he this he’s ready. The arrival and meeting of her father, her sergeant’s exam, the time she watched Die Hard 4 without falling asleep. However, deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows that this isn’t it. He repeats the words that Rosa told him.

When you know, you know.

(But when he knows, he’s taken away from her.)

April 28, a day so insignificant any other year. But, this year, it’s when the fire inside his stomach glows, when it lets him know that he’s ready.

It’s after a long day at work, he cooks while Amy calls her family for their weekly phone-call. Jake pretends he doesn’t smell the cigarette smoke wafting towards the kitchen. They eat in almost silence and he plays Candy Crush while Amy showers.

It’s a simple night, a regular night. The stars don’t dance, the moon doesn’t shine on them like a limelight.

He’s playing on his phone, Amy’s doing her nightly crossword. He’s thinking of the case he’s working on and the fact that there’s no way in hell he’s going to pass level 25 without a cheat code.

But then, she says, “There’s a typo in this crossword puzzle!”

And he knows.

It’s such a mundane moment but yet, so monumental. It’s just them.

Now that he knows, he kind of wants to tell everybody, wants to shout it from the mountain top. But he doesn’t want to tell Boyle. He’s afraid his best friend’s heart is going to burst and Jake isn’t sure how he feels about that. Instead, he stews in it. Let’s it settle in and tries to think of the perfect proposal.

Ideally, the sun would shine like a spotlight, the birds would cease their singing as he got down on one knee and asked her. She’d say yes with tears in her eyes. There’d also be a horse drawn carriage that would take them to an empty movie theatre where they would watch Die Hard on a loop and make out.

But, funnily, life doesn’t work out that way.

Rosa finds out right away and doesn’t fully acknowledge it. She knocks into his shoulder as she walks into work, nods, says, “Finally.”

And he can’t stop smiling for days because, it’s really going to happen, he’s going to do it.

But then, Lieutenant Hawkins happens. Then, he’s in court and his future lies in the judge’s hands.

And then, he’s sent away. Fifteen years for a bank robbery he didn’t do. He sees his life with Amy slowly crawl down the drain.

“Sorry, dude.” Rosa whispers under her breath as they handcuff them and lead them away.

Jake already knows for what.

Prison is not as bad as he thought it was going to be. Okay, his cellmate Caleb is a weird dude and okay, he misses Amy like freaking hell but prison’s nice. He’s even grown a prison beard. Kind of patchy, but, whatever, Amy likes it. Every time he sees her, he thinks of the fact that he’s ready to live the rest of his life with her but he can’t. Probably never will if the squad doesn’t get off their butts and help him get out.

But, he knows they’re working hard. The dark circles under Amy’s eyes tell him that she’s spend long nights worrying about him and he just wants to wipe them away.

At night, when it’s just him and his thoughts (and Caleb), he dreams of days spent with her. He craves normal Saturday afternoons. How she would try to cook dinner every single time and how she would fail every single time.

The little disappointed look on her face at yet another uncooked chicken, at yet another batch of burned pasta.

He craves that little look on her face when they bet on something stupid. Like that one time where they bet one another that they could eat a whole basket of wings in under ten minutes.

Bad idea.

He reminisces of all the times he saw that dangerous glint in her eyes. Before they were together, even after, and most importantly, Halloween.

It comes to him. Halloween, the most festive day of the year.

He tries to jump out of bed but forgets he’s on the bottom bunk and hits his head. He ignores the throbbing as he sits on the ratty desk and grabs a piece of paper.

He begins to plan the heist. He knows that he’s probably going to rot in this cell but there’s no harm in imagining it. It’s the only thing that’s going to keep him company as he rots away in this dingy prison cell.

Amy and the squad get him out, just like he knew they would. (Okay, he did lose faith for a bit. Prison changes a person, even if you only go for a little over two months.)

His plan is back on as soon as he leaves prison, the little sketches he wrote hidden in his shoe. As soon as they hug one another for the first time, his heart almost bursts. God, is he ready.

He hides the pieces of his plan in one of his Die Hard DVDs, there’s so many that Amy wouldn’t know where to look. And also, she hates Die Hard so she would never open them. He seriously can’t believe he’s going to propose to a Die Hard hater.

He calls Amy’s dad Sunday morning, knowing he’s at Church and wanting to avoid him. He leaves a lengthy voicemail, talking about how much he loves Amy, how he’s going to propose, and okay, maybe even mentions her butt once.

Okay, twice. Fine, three times.

He calls him mom next and she answers first ring. He tells her everything, glad to get it off his chest. He mentions calling Gina and asking her to find a ring.

“No son of mine is going to buy a ring.” she urges and tells him to come as soon as he can.

As soon as he walks in she hands him a velvet box. At his look, she says, “It’s not the ring your father gave me. Think I would give bad voodoo to my son? It’s nana’s ring. Now come in and tell me everything. I bet you haven’t eaten blue cake since you got out of prison.”

there are many days where he just wants to grab the ring and ask her. like when she goes to the grocery store and she grabs that cereal she knows that he likes or the time they were struggling to find parking and she pointed at one. or when he wakes up and she’s already showered and ready, reading the morning crossword during breakfast. he wants to grab her hand and say, there’s nothing more I want in life than to spend the rest of my life with you.

literally, any time he looks at her but no, he has to wait for the heist. he wants it to be special.

That night before the heist, he gets home pretty late after a dinner out with Boyle, where they fixed the last details in their Halloween plan. He still hadn’t told Boyle about the proposal or his nana’s old ring. He knew that Boyle would never be able to keep the excitement at bay.

When he gets home, Amy is in the kitchen, going over a case. Her hair is tied up in a crazy bun, little pieces looking like feathers dusting her face. She pushes them back as she reads. Jake wants nothing more than to stand there and stare at her for hours, drinking every one of her movements in. Just one more day, he reminds himself. She gazes up at him and her eyes brighten dangerously at his gaze.

“Excited for the heist tomorrow?” she asks, her voice carrying the competitive edge he loves. “I’m going to obliterate you.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be surprised by what I have up my sleeve.”

“It’d have to be something really big because you really can’t surprise me anymore.” She shrugs a pointy little shrug, her eyes full of mirth and Jake grins.

You literally have no idea.

She kisses him goodnight later that night and knocks out quickly, her body prepping for the big day that lies ahead.

Jake tiptoes to the kitchen and reaches towards the back of the cupboard. He passes his old nudie mags and his signed Taylor Swift CD, past those old prized possessions, and grabs the little velvet box. He looks over his shoulder and cracks it open, the little hinge making the quietest sound and his whole face softens as he gazes at the ring.

Underneath the moonlight, the diamond looks almost purple and he smiles softly.

Remembering what Rosa said, about Teddy beating him to the proposal, he laughs. Yeah, Teddy was the first one to ask her but he is going to be the first one to get a ‘yes’.

[bleusarcelle]

Author ask Thingy

So, @goramidiot tagged me on one of these, and I had fifteen minutes free before an interview (yes, a 9 pm interview yey) so I thought, why not?

1)      is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Well…I kinda have this one story that I deleted bc uh, it was about Klance coming back to earth but like, their relationship took a turn bc it was a new environment from where they established their relationship, so they go downhill from there but like, in the end they want to make it work.

So yeh. Posted it. Deleted it. Trying to edit so I can do their relationship justice, you know, like a good healthy relationship should be.

2)      what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

Hmmmmm. None? Like, sure, I have a couple where they might be lil cringy in the writing but that’s because I was still learning. So, I can forgive myself.

3)      what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Fave scenes first and then chronological.

4)      favorite character you’ve written

Lance and Keith. Neck to Neck.

5)      character you were most surprised to end up writing

Pidge. I didn’t expected me to fall hard for her, man.

6)      something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Environment descriptions. Like, I usually focus on emotions and dialogue, what the character is doing and showing but damn, it’s a hard time for me to describe or find the time to put what’s around them.

7)      when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I’m okayish. I don’t ger overexcited because then I would have to explain the plot and …yah know? Not a lot of ppl are accepting of stories of people falling in love, if you know what I mean.

Embarassed, tho? No. Never. I’m proud of my writing.

8)      favorite genre to write

……….

Fluff.

Why are you looking at me like that, it’s fluff.

……….. and angst.

9)      what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Life, tbh?

10)   write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

Background noise and people. Like, I usually write whenever I’m not overwhelmed at work, so I write in my office with chatter behind me or aimless music.

But like, when I acknowledge the silence when I’m alone? It’s a lil unsettling. I prefer to be surrounded by people but in my own world, if that makes sense.

11)   what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Damn, dude, I really wouldn’t know?

Maybe the transaction from scene to scene? Character’s emotions?

TEXT FORMAT. OH LORD I HAVE CHANGED FROM MY EVIL WAYS AND FINALLY MANAGED HOW TO MAKE DECENT TEXT FORMAT.

And like dialogue, letting it be more natural.

12)   your weaknesses as an author

I have no idea?? Why do I have to auto analyze myself, oh my god.

Uh, okay, let’s see, what do I struggle with? Forgetting details of the characters?

13)   your strengths as an author

DIALOGUE. EMOTIONS.

14)   do you make playlists for your current wips?

Nah, man, I suck at those.

15)   why did you start writing?

I was reading some nature fics back in my day and I was like ‘ok but like, I think this would have been better’ and then I was like ‘……Imma make my own that fits my likes bc I wanna read that shit.’ And TA-DAAAAH.

16)   are there any characters who haunt you?

Sonic the motherfucker.

17)   if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

My what now?

Is that like? Past me? Baby past me?

Sure okay: LET YOURSELF TO BE CRINGY. EXPLORE. FIND. TRY. AND ENJOY. SEE WHAT YOU LIKE AND WHAT YOU DON’T. MAKE MISTAKES AND LEARN FROM THEM. ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE CRINGY AND LAME UNTIL YOU FIND YOUR OWN STYLE. YOU GOT THIS SHIT.

18)   were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

Probably, dude, tbh. My writing style changed at some point but I can’t remember when or how.

Tho, one thing I remember seeing, it was a post, like some of those tips writing posts that said like “Write like you are telling the story to your best friend.”

AND BOY OH BOY DO I REALLY WRITE LIKE THAT.

19)   when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

You ask the wrong person here.

I try not to panic, tbh, bc big fics scare me when Im the one writing them. Pace, transition, relationships, emotions, natural flow of actions and feelings. They are so complicated ya know?

So, I usually write down all the scene I WANT TO SEE IN THE GODDAM FIC, explaining a lil about them, like the meaning behind each of them between  these [ ] and then I start making like the timeline with the scenes, organizing them and shit.

It took me a while to get the hangs of the timeline of the current multichip im making. It was….a trip.

20)   do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Both. Depends on how much time I have or inspiration.

I love it when I have long sit-downs, tho, they are interesting and like, really fills you with adrenaline. (because you think everything you are writing is amazing lmao oh just you want for the next day when you are editing, oh boy)

21)   what do you think when you read over your older work?

‘Nice, nice, oh I like what I did there, ….okay was that really necessary? Oh no, that’s a 2012 old me, what is it doing here? ….ok that one was funny! I approve. Oh man, really? A typo? In front of my salad? …I’m honestly confused on why this has kudos….Oh god, dude, this is super angsty chill the fuck out, what the fuck……..oh wait it’s still my fic, alright then……….note to self, don’t be so dang angsty and people don’t have that many tears inside them, relax.’

22)   are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Any subject that I’m not familiar with, tbh? Not that I’m uncomfortable, per se, but I don’t want to write them in the chances that I might fuck it up.

If I didn’t live it? I don’t write it, simple as that tbh.

23)   any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

Not really? Obscure? Nah, dude, I’m pretty basic, I just daydream a lot.

24)   have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Dialogue. And TEXT FORMAT.

25)   copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

I have over 100+ fics, bro, so like, I’m just going to use something from the last fic/drabble I wrote:

Keith doesn’t know what makes him pause but suddenly his eyes fall to the empty space on his right and then he frowns.

Where is Lance?

Why I like this part? Because you stablish a few things:

1)      Keith senses something is out of the ordinary.

2)      Automatically looks to the right where Lance usually is (ya know, right hand man, you see what I did there)

3)      The realization that Lance is not there annoys him so you know that it’s not a common occurrence that Lance disappears.