#a few gerrys i did at school

[mxromance]

all he knows is robert smith, kiss boys and LIE

[sasha-n-james]

TMAGP THEORY

HUGE theory about The Magnus Institute, Sam, Alice, the whole shebang. I feel like I'm really onto something here... Possible spoilers under cut!

In reading the list of children experimented on by The Magnus Institute before it burnt down, we know that Sam was on this list. The list gives information about the tests he was given, and even his birthday (he's 34 btw).

And we know that Gerry was also on this list, as Sam found him and tracked him down to ask him questions, but Gerry didn't remember much.

There's one other name that stands out in this list: Connor Dyer. Born 1989, would be 35. While Gerry and Sam received high scores, Connor did not, and didn't seem to pass.

A Dyer. Maybe a relative of Alice. Maybe a brother.

Or maybe, that is Alice, as a small child. We know Alice is transgender, Alex actually went out of his way to confirm that she's trans, something that wasn't necessary unless it was relevant for canon. It would make sense for her and Sam to be around the same age, as they went to school together when they dated. And it's highly likely that Alice's name hasn't been Alice her whole life. Maybe this kid IS Alice.

Maybe that's why Alice is so averse to the whole Institute thing. She isn't just worried for Sam, she knows something, she was affected by it. Maybe she remembers something that Sam and Gerry don't.

Sam said he had found "a list of a few of the other kids." Maybe it's not a complete list, and he didn't receive the name "Connor." Maybe he only got the names of the highest-performing kids or something.

I feel like I'm onto something huge here though!!!!!!!!!! I feel like a genius.

[wndaswife]

plant roses at your feet | gerri fields & fem!reader

The week-long trip to visit your best friend goes awry when it seems that Gerri’s changed since she moved away for school.

Word count: 9028

Tags: angst, fluff, jealousy, depictions of a panic attack, implications of internalized homophobia, unrequited love for a second, cheesy love confession

Carrying your luggage behind you, you stepped off of the train and quickly read over Gerri’s texts. As per her instructions, you should be stepping off from Platform Five before turning left, taking an escalator, then going through the station until you reached Gate Three.

You’d been so excited to see her that you had even searched up pictures of the station, meticulously planning out what it would feel like to finally be meeting up with your best friend after parting from each other at the end of the summer. Though you were still worried about getting lost, you followed the instructions Gerri messaged you and finally made it to the front of the station.

In the middle of typing a text to her letting her know you were waiting at the front parking lot, you heard someone call out to you from the far left and you turned to see Gerri waving at you.

It had only been a few months since you last saw each other, but Gerri looked different. Her hair, that was now a few inches longer than you could last remember, was styled differently, and in a subtle way, the way she did her makeup seemed different too. 

But she looked so pretty.

Gerri always looked so pretty.

You embraced each other and she uttered into your shoulder, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, feeling a warm comfort settle within you at the feeling of being with your best friend again. 

Her hair smelled like mangoes, so you supposed she was still using the same kind of shampoo. That made you happy, in a way. 

She pulled away from you and took your backpack from your shoulder. She carried it for you while you wheeled your small travel luggage behind you. “There’s a ton I wanna catch you up on, but David’s friend is waiting in the car for us and I don’t wanna keep him waiting,” she told you and you walked beside her and into the parking lot.

“David? Like, the same guy from summer?”

Gerri looked over at you with a grin that made her look proud of herself. “Yeah,” she answered. “I forgot to tell you, but one of my roommates knows someone who’s rooming with a guy that’s close friends with David, so I saw him at some frat party. He’s visiting the US and he’s been staying with Sam — the guy who drove me here.”

You felt a bit lightheaded trying to catch up with the sudden dump of details of all these people Gerri knew, and as if mind wasn’t already struggling to keep up, she added, “When we get back, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Trying not to sound too confused and consequently bitter, you asked, “Everyone…?”

The both of you reached the car and Gerri helped you tuck your things away in the trunk while she answered, “There are a few people back at my place right now, but they’re just friends of mine and Zoey.”

You’ve heard of Zoey before. She was Gerri’s roommate. But the last you heard about her, Gerri had been having issues with rooming with her. You supposed they got along now, but you weren’t sure when that started happening.

“You’ll like them,” she reassured, squeezing your upper arm supportively then getting into the passenger’s seat after your luggage was tucked away in the trunk. 

You watched as she buckled her seatbelt and turned her head to start a conversation you couldn’t hear with Sam, and for a moment you wondered if it would’ve been better for you to stay somewhere else. But when Gerri looked at you through the side mirror and gestured for you to get into the car, you smiled and felt encouraged.

Though you certainly weren’t in the mood for socialising and all you’d really wanted to do was spend the day alone with Gerri at her place watching movies and getting takeout like you always would, the way she turned around and asked you if you wanted to stop for anything made you think that it wouldn’t be… that bad.

As long as you were with her.

Sam carried your things up and Gerri told you a bit about her friends as you trailed behind. She told you what she thought of them and whether or not she thought you’d like them. There were a few of them you were almost excited to meet — Winona and Caroline — but you still checked the time on your phone before the door to her dorm was unlocked as you tried to estimate what time it would be that everyone would go home.

It was three in the afternoon and they must’ve gotten there a few hours prior to when you arrived at the station, so it couldn’t be more than four or five hours until they left if they wanted to stay for dinner.

You were wrong about that.

Or just disillusioned to begin with.

Gerri’s idea of ‘a few people’ meant enough people that the entire living room was stuffy with a crowd of people, all of them friends or at least friends of mutual friends, where the balcony was polluted with cigarette and joint smoke and the kitchen and dining room was littered with students that were afternoon-drinking. 

Everywhere you turned there were conversations and commentary on things like consumerism and classic literature and film that you realised people thought were the pinnacle of what it meant to be an artistic and well-spoken individual interacting with other artistic and well-spoken individuals.

And Gerri… Where was Gerri?

It was nearly nine now and you’d only seen her a few times since you entered through the door together with Sam. You got by without her by taking frequent trips to the washroom, unpacking your things as slowly as you could, and even taking a walk around the neighbourhood during which you stopped for a pack of beer at a convenience store so you had an excuse for if anyone noticed your absence.

No one did, but it got you a few good first impressions when you set it down on the kitchen counter.

Caroline ended up being sort of annoying, and you were glad when Winona came around for it was right after Caroline said something vaguely elitist that you would have struggled to say something useful in response to had it not been for Winona coming around with a can of Smirnoff Ice for you, asking if you were Gerri’s friend.

She was nice and you did enjoy her company for a while until you finished your drink and kept seeing brief glances of Gerri before she quickly disappeared beyond the crowd of people each time.

Standing in the open kitchen and having watched Gerri pass you countless times without seeming to be looking for you, you suddenly felt a bit down and even kind of tired.

It was ten in the evening by the time you told Winona you needed to talk to Gerri, and you bid a goodbye to perhaps the only person you enjoyed talking with that entire day after exchanging numbers with each other.

Feeling pretty tipsy and rather sleepy, you slid your way through the crowd of people and finally made your way to Gerri’s side. She was talking with David and Sam and another taller guy that looked sort of nice because he had a crooked tie and a pair of aviator glasses on, but you didn’t pay much mind to anyone but Gerri once you got the closest you’ve been with her since the afternoon.

“I was looking for you!” she said when she turned to you, a red solo cup in her hand. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset with her, but maybe you would’ve been annoyed at the very least if you were sober. She introduced you to her friends.

“Nice seeing you again, Y/N,” you heard David greet you.

You weren’t sure if you actually responded to him, but you thought you did. Either way, you told Gerri, “I think I’m just gonna head to bed early, Ger. Sorry. I’m just tired from the train. Is there something I can set up in your room or is there a guest room?”

“Shit, I forgot to set your things up,” she hissed then looked into the hallway where her bedroom was. “There’s, uh, a cot or something in the closet but… Well, it’s fine, you can sleep in my bed. Do you need help unpacking?”

“No, I unpacked earlier. Thanks,” you replied, and that time you knew for sure that you said something to her friends for you waved them goodbye and told them you hoped to see them again, which was completely disingenuous.

Earlier when you unpacked, you looked through Gerri’s things, but seeing her bedroom from your position on her bed made things look different. It was like you could see things from her eyes as you looked around at her desk and her books and her posters, smelling the scent of her hair and a bit of her perfume from her pillows, bringing her blanket up to your shoulders and imagining it was her wrapped around your body.

Then you forgot about Gerri and who she seemed to be earlier — someone completely different, a version of her that you felt distant from. Laying in her bed surrounded by nothing but her in the dark silence of her bedroom, the sounds of the party muffled, you truly felt like you had come home to her like you had wanted when you got off the train.

Before you fell asleep, you saw your phone light up with the notification that Winona requested to follow your Instagram account. 

That made you feel pretty good.

Gerri must’ve gone to bed late for you didn’t notice that she got into bed with you until the next morning when you woke up and felt her mess of wavy brown hair stretched out against your bare clavicle and tickling your skin. She was facing you, her hand tucked under her cheek and her other arm draped around her clothed midriff.

She was now wearing an old shirt she’d gotten with you when you went to Venice Beach together one summer, and it made you smile when you realised how worn it had gotten over the years of usage.

Watching her tranquil sleeping expression and listening to the soft inhales and exhales of her sleeping form reminded you of all the times you’d slept over at her place. You’d been friends with Gerri since childhood, but you were mostly thinking of the time you spent together before the school year started.

It felt like things changed last summer, though you couldn’t exactly place a finger on how. Maybe it had been the knowledge that you were going to move away from each other in September, but you just saw Gerri differently.

It was warmer when you were with her and she felt dearer to you. Your heart would beat nearly twice as fast sometimes when she got close enough to you. That summer, things were just lighter and gentler, things smelled sweeter and the time spent with Gerri felt… perfect.

Everything that summer was perfect.

While watching her in the peaceful silence of her bedroom, you felt like things really were as they used to be for the first time since both you and Gerri moved away.

And that made you really, really happy.

Gerri stirred and she rolled onto her back, groaning softly and rubbing her face before stretching her arms upwards. She went limp for a few moments as her arms laid back above her head. Then she rubbed her eyes and opened them as she exhaled softly. She turned to you, meeting your eyes as you were on your side looking at her.

You felt like she was really looking at you now, her undivided attention on you. Ever since you met up with her at the station, it felt like she was always thinking about something else — anything else but you.

“I’m sorry about the party last night,” Gerri said quietly the moment she turned onto her side, bringing her knees up and tucking a hand under her pillow. “I really didn’t expect for there to be so many people. When I left to pick you up, there were only a few friends here.”

Looking at her fresh morning face and her messy brown hair and listening to the soft rasp of her quiet voice made you feel so warm; you were completely willing to forget all about last night.

“I get it,” you replied with a supportive smile. “It’s totally fine. I’m just glad we get to have time to ourselves now.”

Gerri smiled then, and you felt yourself flush at the sight of her. 

“Besides, I sorta made a friend,” you added. “Winona and I exchanged numbers last night and she requested to follow my Instagram.”

Her face formed a bit of a dubious expression when you said that. “Really?” she asked. “She, like, never talks. She’s Sam’s cousin but we’ve had probably about two conversations since I first met her in October.”

“I wouldn’t have thought her to be the quiet type,” you said. “She was super nice and talkative with me.”

There was a momentary indiscernible look on her face before she redirected her focus and started talking about something else. “Do you wanna go for lunch?” she proposed after checking the time on her phone and seeing that it was eleven in the afternoon. “There’s a really good all-day breakfast place I know.”

The both of you got dressed together in the same room while talking about Gerri’s classes and how you felt about living alone and without a roommate. She talked about her parents visiting next weekend and how much she missed Poppy, the dog they’d just gotten before she had to leave for school.

Gerri was almost convinced that they bought her as her replacement while she was gone. But she didn’t care all that much; she was a good replacement. She ended up liking the chocolate lab quite a bit in spite of her lack of experience with pets.

You wondered if any of her other friends knew about Poppy and how Gerri initially hated when she licked at her face, and how she eventually warmed up to it to the point that she had the puppy sleeping in her bed nearly every night before she moved out.

There were a lot of things you knew about Gerri that you sort of hoped no one else knew about her. Last night, there was so much about her that you felt so distant from, like a large part of her was unknown to you. You could understand the rationality of it for it’d been a few months since you last saw her, and anyone’s first year would bring about some change.

But there were parts of Gerri you just wanted to yourself — parts of her that were genuinely, sincerely her.

A thought that made your chest tighten ran through your mind: What if who Gerri was had changed? 

What if there were parts of her you couldn’t get to know the way you used to know her? What if things could never be like how they used to?

The train of thought followed you all throughout the walk to the restaurant, but was discarded and momentarily forgotten when you and Gerri were seated at the all-day breakfast place she recommended.

For a little while as you went through the menu together, discussing what to order and bringing up shared memories that the both of you were reminded of the further your conversation progressed, things suddenly just felt so… natural and perfect.

Gerri laughed at something you said and you lifted your eyes from the menu in front of you to watch how a wide smile spread across her pretty lightly-freckled face still fresh of makeup. Her lively laugh relaxed into a soft fit of giggles and she met your eyes, which for an inexplicable reason made you flush and look back down to your menu.

After months of not seeing their best friend, anyone would’ve felt as eager as you to finally spend time with them. Maybe it was precisely because of the time you’d spent away from her that made things feel so different, but sitting across from Gerri, immersing yourself in the feeling of being the only person who had her attention, you felt that something had changed.

It wasn’t that things were in any way extraordinarily different, though you were sure at least some things had changed since the summer, but instead it was that something had changed within you. And it felt profound, in a way, and you wished to understand where the feeling had come from and what it meant, but before you could, someone approached the table and took Gerri’s focus away from you.

You didn’t pay much attention once Gerri exclaimed excitedly at the sight of the girl standing by your table, and instead you redirected your attention to your phone. You accepted Winona’s request from last night and followed her back, distractedly looking through her posts as you listened in on Gerri’s conversation. 

If you weren’t looking right at her while she was speaking, it was almost hard to tell that it was Gerri talking. She sounded different — the rises and falls in her tone, the vocabulary she used, the inside jokes she referenced that you didn't understand, and the people she talked about that you didn’t know.

A part of you tried to tell you how delusional and obsessive you were being, and that maybe you just felt insecure about not being as much a part of Gerri’s life as you used to. But even so, you couldn’t stop the angry bitter pit that formed in your stomach, sticking to your insides like hot tar the longer you listened to their conversation.

At one point or another, you had subtly reminded Gerri that you only had a week with her; there were only three days left in your stay, and the past two days were filled with what you could only describe as being forgotten about.

You understood that Gerri was still a full-time student with things to do and that she wasn’t going to drop everything just because you were visiting — although some selfish part of you did entertain the idea for a few minutes when you were on the train fantasising about your trip.

But the last two days, Gerri had sometimes left for classes while you were sleeping, leaving you alone to wake up to her roommate as your only company, or a completely empty place without so much as letting you know where she was or when she’d be back. She’d stay out for a few hours past the last of her classes to go out with her friends, leaving you back at her place like you were her pet.

There was one occasion that got you particularly upset when Gerri had left in the afternoon only for you to find that she had gone out to meet her friends at a cafe. It had only been for an hour or two but you felt disrespected and abandoned all the same.

The only thing that had brought you any form of comfort since your first night here was the returning feeling of having slept in Gerri’s bed that one night, the stillness and permanence of her in her books and blankets and posters, a side of her that you at the time had felt no one knew.

During your lonely hours away from her spending most of your time in her bedroom, you became curious at one point when you realised you hadn’t yet seen Gerri’s guitar. She used to practise nearly every day and since you’d arrived, you hadn’t seen her pick it up even once. 

You knew she brought it for when you hugged her goodbye the day that she left, she had her guitar carefully stored in the backseat in its protective casing. 

One evening you started looking for it and found it tucked away somewhere almost completely obscured in her closet behind her jackets and laying against the back panelling. 

It was true that there were some parts of Gerri you wanted all to yourself, and if she hadn’t played in a while let alone ever brought her guitar out, no one but you knew that she played nor that it was a hobby of hers. But seeing it stored away, almost hidden from everything… 

It felt different. 

It felt horrible.

When she came back that night you felt inexplicably bitter and cold to her, but if she noticed how upset you were she didn’t mention it.

An afternoon came when the two of you finally made plans to go out together on your own. In a few hours, you and Gerri were going to a drive-in theatre a city away. A movie from the film series the both of you used to love when you were younger had come out, and you were mostly seeing it for nostalgia’s sake, but also because you’d be able to spend time together.

Gerri was talking about what she did last night when she came back a bit later than she said she would, detailing her outing with David and Sam. 

There were two days left before you had to take the train back to your place, so although you were upset with Gerri, you were determined not to let anything ruin the last little while you had with her, even if that meant biting your tongue when she talked about things you would much rather not listen to and avoiding bringing up what you were upset about.

Trying to change the subject quickly while Gerri stopped talking to chew on a pizza bite, you said, “Winona said she might be in town, so we could hang out.”

She made a face as if what you said was funny and spoke with her mouth partially full, “We? Like, you and me?”

“No — her and I,” you replied. “‘In town’ meaning, like, my town. Where I live.”

Gerri chewed while she stared at you and you couldn’t decipher why it was so bizarre for her that you’d made a friend while you were here. Then she swallowed and lifted another pizza bite to her mouth before asking, “What do you even talk about with her? She’s super boring.”

“She’s not,” you defended, now feeling a bit agitated not because Gerri insulted Winona but because she was acting so oddly and you couldn’t understand why. “How would you know she’s boring if you never talk with her?”

“I don’t talk with her because she’s boring.”

Looking up from your phone, you answered, “Well, maybe she’s boring because she just doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Gerri put her hands up in sarcastic surrender. “Sorry,” she scoffed. “Didn’t know you were so close.”

Thankfully, before any sort of argument started, Zoey came out from her room and mentioned a frat party that was happening, and that the guys were friends with David and wanted to throw him a party before he had to leave for Paris.

You watched Gerri’s expression as Zoey gave her more details, and you watched how her mind seemed practically made up the moment she was told that her group of friends were going.

She didn’t even have to be asked to go before she said, “Yeah, okay, I’ll be there.” When you shifted in your spot, she looked over at you. “Oh, Y/N, you can come too. It'll be fun.”

An afterthought. 

That’s all you were to her.

What were you to do anyways if you didn’t go?

“I don’t know anyone going, Ger,” you told her nervously as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers.

“I’ll be there with you the whole time. It’s fine,” she tried to reassure you as the two of you and Zoey took the streetcar down to where the party was a few blocks away. “I’ve been to, like, hundreds of these. Y/N, you’ll like it.”

In spite of everything that had been happening the past few days, Gerri telling you that she’d be there with you for the party brought you… a lot of comfort. It made you feel like she knew how important it was to you that she was there with you, which almost sort of reestablished your relationship with her that you sometimes felt like she forgot about.

Maybe it was the feeling of being caught up in what Gerri told you on the way there, but when you were walking up to the frat house together, you didn’t think twice before telling her, “You look really pretty, Gerri.”

And she did look really pretty; you weren’t just saying it because of how you felt.

Gerri turned her head to look at you and you saw her eyes meet yours, her lips parting after a moment of looking your face over with a sincerity that seemed meaningful to you before Zoey opened the front door, inviting a rupture of noise and cheers onto the porch that stopped Gerri from saying whatever she was going to say.

Sam gave you a quick hello then pulled Gerri into the house at the sight of her and you followed behind her a bit uncomfortably, looking around at the crowds of people that was easily at least more than fifteen times the size of the party that you walked into when you first arrived.  

For the first hour and a half of the night, Gerri didn’t even look back at you trailing behind her wherever she went unless you were all doing shots together, most of which she did without you anyways. 

It seemed to you that she only paid you any attention when she could remember you were there.

When someone tapped you on the shoulder, you turned to see a familiar strawberry blonde standing behind you with a friendly sober smile. “I’ve been looking for you,” Winona said, and you felt comfortable believing her.

“It’s so chaotic here,” she told you, looking around at the bustling party. Then you realised for the first time that Gerri was telling the truth — she sort of was a bit of an introverted person. She never seemed like it until now. 

She looked back over to you. “There’s a small terrace on the roof. Wanna go up?”

“I thought I heard a few guys say they wanted to go for a smoke up there but couldn’t get the terrace door unlocked,” you recalled.

Winona gave you a small sly smile then reached into her jeans’ pocket and subtly flashed you a silver key before quickly sliding it back into her pocket. At the sight of your surprised expression, she said, “The key was hanging from a nail at the top of the doorframe.”

You laughed and she took your hand, pulling through the crowd of people and swiping a few things from the buffet counter in the kitchen before the both of you headed to the highest floor where the terrace door was.

Distracted by Winona, you hadn’t seen the way Gerri followed you with her eyes through the crowd, watching with scorn brewing in her chest the moment she saw your interlaced hands peek from between the crowd of people as you followed Sam’s cousin upstairs.

It was nearly two whole hours that you spent with Winona, and you really couldn’t believe it when you checked the time on your phone by chance when you got a notification.

“Is it really almost eleven now?” she asked, surprised. 

The pizza and drinks she brought up were long finished, and the two of you didn’t drink even once. You’d sobered up from the shots earlier, and it felt so nice to finally have a sincere conversation with someone.

Winona was nice. She was creative and sensitive and, for whatever reason, she very obviously held you in high regards. 

You enjoyed talking with her and you felt a bit terrible for being what you could only describe as pessimistic, but there was something she was missing that you just felt you needed to have. She was nice for conversations and in every platonic sense, and you could see yourself enjoying her company in your future too. 

But there was a figure that formed in your mind each time she flushed at your inadvertent compliments and the nervous way she played with the sleeves of her shirt when she said she couldn’t help but stalk your Instagram a little when you first accepted her request.

A figure that stood out starkly from Winona took shape in your mind. But you couldn’t figure out who it was, only that Winona could never fill it.

So when she leaned forward and tried to kiss you when the two of you stood and went to step down from the terrace so she could go home and study for a midterm that she had in the morning, you turned your head the slightest bit, allowing her lips to just miss yours, but enough for her to get the point.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly apologised. “I’m sorry, I must have misread things…”

You quickly reassured her and reached out for her hand which she nearly pulled away from you before she let you take it. “No, it’s fine. You’re fine,” you said.

“I didn’t make this weird, did I?” she asked. “I mean… It’s not uncomfortable now, is it?”

Your heart was pained when you watched her guilty eyes meet yours. She really was so nice. But… you couldn’t do it. 

Not with her. 

“No, you didn’t. It’s totally, totally fine,” you told her. “You’re a really cool person, Winona, and I’m so glad to have met you while visiting here. But, I…”

Her eyes searched yours before she said, “But you like someone else.”

You weren’t sure if that was true or not. So you just looked at her in a helpless sort of way. “I don’t know,” you answered. “I’m just sorry, I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed or upset.”

Winona shook her head. “I’m not. I’ll get over it. You’re… really cool too,” she admitted. “I can still visit you, right? And we’re still friends?”

Nodding, you answered confidently, “Yeah. Of course.”

You navigated your way to the back door for Winona to be able to leave quietly. She didn’t live closeby, and was only staying with Sam while she visited for his birthday. So you waited with her while her Uber came so she didn’t have to take public transport. You told her that you’d text her when you were back home, and that you’d plan a weekend together where she could stay at your place.

You felt pretty satisfied for having handled that the way you did, and you were happy that you were still friends with Winona. 

Feeling pretty fired up from the interaction and perhaps a bit inspired by Winona’s attempt to kiss you and the overt intimacy that came with it, you decided to talk with Gerri. 

You weren’t sure what you would say nor what kinds of feelings you’d be trying to convey to her, only that you had something to say and that you didn’t want to keep pretending that you didn’t. 

The feeling was short-lived for when you searched for Gerri and even finding the confidence in yourself to ask around for her, you eventually found yourself peeking in one of the bedrooms on the ground floor and seeing her sitting alone with David, his hand in her pretty brown hair with his lips kissing down her perfumed neck. 

Perhaps it would’ve been better to slip out quietly, but your legs had other intentions when they forced you to stumble back against the bedroom door and alert the two of them of your presence. 

Something alike to an apology came out of you, but it was more a medley of unintelligible half-spoken words than anything. 

David, now feeling a bit uncomfortable as the confrontation-avoidant person he was, stood up from the bed and apologised, but to who and for what reason you could not comprehend. 

Gerri watched as he left the room and you heard but did not process what he turned around and told her before he left, but it made her repress a laugh. 

Eventually Gerri stood too and when she approached you, you realised you were still standing at the bedroom door, stunned. She ran her hands down her jeans and asked, “Are you surprised?”

“… What?” you managed to say.

“Are you surprised?” she repeated. “I didn’t even know he was into me like that. I mean… No clue.”

You searched her eyes for something and though you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for, you knew that you weren’t able to find it. She could hardly meet your eyes and you felt that perhaps she truly didn’t care about what you thought of her relationship with David, and you suddenly realised you really had grown distant from Gerri this time.

“Ger, do you wanna play?” David called from the living room where an empty space had been cleared for the beer pong table.

“Yeah, just a second!” she answered and without even turning to you, she moved to leave the bedroom.

Without thinking twice about it, you reached out and wrapped your hand around Gerri’s wrist, tugging her back into the open bedroom. “Don’t you care about what I think?” you suddenly asked her.

Gerri’s eyebrows pushed together as if confused by your outburst. “Okay,” she gave in and tore her arm wrist out of your hand. She massaged it with her fingers then let it fall to her side. “Fine. What do you think about it, Y/N? Go on. Tell me.”

You didn’t appreciate the sarcasm and resentment in her voice but you answered anyways, “You don’t even know David. Not really. Do you… even know his favourite song? His favourite band? Do you know what kinds of movies he hates? You’ve never even been to his house!”

You knew you were grasping at straws; your bubbling anger and upset had burst into a nonsensical dump of emotions and irritability.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Gerri asked, leaning forward and drilling her eyes into yours. “No one cares about that shit but you. Like, movies and songs?”

Her words pricked at your skin and you felt on edge. Your face felt hot and your anger only began to pique, but suddenly just looking at Gerri put some kind of silence to it all. And you felt like you were about to cry. 

Taking your tongue between your teeth to avoid letting your tears form, you gritted out quietly, “You used to care about that stuff too.” 

But your words didn’t reach her, like she hadn’t even heard them at all.

Gerri ran her fingers through her hair and scoffed. Her hands dropped to her sides. “Listen, Y/N… I thought you would’ve been happy about David and I, but-but…” Her hands waved around in front of her wildly as she tried to find her words. “But you’re acting like such a jealous bitch!”

It felt like the floor was about to collapse from underneath you.

“For once, you’re not the one getting the guys and that makes you crazy. Well, guess what? This is the real world, so grow up,” she bit.

You looked away, staring at some spot on the floor people kept stepping over, completely unaware and uncaring of the arguing you and Gerri were having. A part of you wished someone would at least give you a judgemental look so you’d feel for a moment that your entire world wasn’t what was happening right in front of you.

“What’s your problem?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I came here to see you and spend time with you.”

She threw her arms up, hinting towards the party behind her. “Well, hello? Where do you think we are?”

“Gerri, this isn’t hanging out together; it’s hanging out with all these other people,” you said, then looked around at the crowd. They all seemed so far. Or rather, you just felt like a complete outsider. “I don’t even know who these people are. I came to be with you.”

“So, it’s my fault you’re antisocial as fuck and can’t make friends?”

Afraid that if you spoke any louder then your voice would break and shatter any sort of confidence you made it seem like you had, you met her eyes and whispered, “Fuck you.”

“Y/N, you try and paint yourself as some kind of victim here, but you’re being so fucking clingy and posessive! I’m not the spineless indecisive person I was before. I’m not just going to be your pet,” she retorted, her voice raising. 

You’d never seen Gerri so upset before.

Maybe she was right.

“It’s just not going to be the same anymore,” she added with finality, and you could swear that you couldn’t hear your heartbeat in your ears for nearly eight whole seconds.

Had your heart stopped?

People couldn’t function without their heartbeats, could they?

You raised your hand to your chest and massaged your fingertips into your shirt, feeling your heart’s beating beyond your ribcage.

Slowly, your hearing returned and you landed back on the ground, your legs trembling slightly and each and every overwhelming noise from the surrounding party bouncing around the inside of your skull, fracturing your very being from the inside out. 

“Are you in love with me or something?” Gerri inquired mockingly. “You’re being so fucking obsessive and weird.”

You were silent as her words sunk in, and soon all you could do was internalise her accusations, her bitter words that told you nothing but that you had been the odd one all along. You had come expecting something that you wouldn’t have ever gotten, all because you couldn’t understand the months you’d spent away from Gerri really did change things. 

Were you so dim-witted and excessive that it took being yelled at, pushing Gerri until she was at her wit’s end, to finally understand?

To finally understand that things… weren’t going to be the same anymore.

“What?” Gerri urged you for a response. 

There must’ve been some kind of expression on your face, a concerning one, for Gerri’s face untensed a little as she looked at you. She said your name. 

You watched the way her lips moved around each syllable but you couldn’t hear it. But you wished you could, because you weren’t sure of the next time you’d ever hear her say it again.

Whatever functioning part of your brain forced your body to work on autopilot you hurriedly gathered your thoughts together to internally thank, because before you knew it you were rounding Gerri and pushing through the mess of people that you just couldn’t seem to get away from. 

Gerri’s voice called out from behind you and you thought she was calling your name again, over and over, maybe even trailing behind you as she made an attempt to follow you out to wherever you were going.

But you weren’t sure where you were going. 

All that you knew was that you needed to leave. 

The calling of your name meshed with the sounds of blasting music and shrill laughter and incessant chatter allowed you to forget for just a moment what your name was. 

What did it sound like in Gerri’s mouth? What did she look like saying it? 

Pushing through the crowd, bodies brushing up against yours and nearly asphyxiating you should it not have been for the way you forcefully pushed them out of the way, you almost forgot you had your own — a body — and your mind moved to think about what it felt like to have Gerri touch yours, what it felt like to feel her shoulder brush against yours all those times you slept in the same bed as her like that first night at her place.

It became especially hard to breathe and you feared what would happen if you collapsed just inches from the door, but your hand reached the doorknob just in time and you stepped out onto the porch.

The cold air burned your lungs when you inhaled but it dried your cheeks, and you regained feeling in your body only for you to realise that everything hurt.

Your chest was tight and your throat was sore, your lungs felt like they were constricting and your limbs felt like they might detach from their sockets at any second. And that fucking thrumming against your ribcage made you want to rip your heart out of your chest.

As if clawing your way through to your beating heart, you scratched at your chest through your shirt and felt with the tips of your fingers the pendant of a necklace Gerri gave you three summers ago that you couldn’t remember why you wore out tonight.

Pulling your shirt down just enough to reach it, you wrapped your fingers around the thin silver chain and tugged it down firmly, forcing the clasp in the back to snap. You eyed the pendant for a second or two, looking at it laying in the centre of your palm.

She bought it for you because it looked scarily similar to the small seashell you brought her when you came back from your trip to Malta a few months prior. 

You couldn’t remember if you’d told her, but you brought it back for her because it reminded you so much of her eye colour.

A voice called Gerri’s name from inside and you’re reined back down to earth. You step off of the porch and toss the necklace along with the pendant into a nearby bush, feeling like you abhorred the childish memories you realised you had been clinging onto for years.

“Gerri!” the voice raised.

She turned her head, forced to abandon the endeavour to find out where you had run off to. “Wh… What?” she stuttered, looking over to the beer pong table in the middle of the living room where someone had pulled her towards.

One of her other friends raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. 

“Come on, it’s your turn,” David urged, lifting a small white plastic ball to her.

Zoey let you into the dorm albeit feeling irritated because she’d come home early from the party to have some time alone with her boyfriend. You promised her that you’d be quick. 

You felt a compelling urge to take one more look at Gerri’s guitar stashed in the back of her closet, so you did.

The stickers on its case, memories of listening to her play for hours, the dedication and love she used to put into learning it, a song she’d learned for you once on your birthday as a surprise played on that very guitar, all shrouded and hidden away. 

You closed the closet and left for the station.

For a moment you considered texting Gerri that you were leaving then recalled that she’d never given you the kindness to know where she was or when she was returning nor if or when she was leaving at all. 

The bus took you to the station and you tucked your phone in your pocket. It took a few minutes in line to buy a new ticket and then in half an hour you’d be well on your way back home.

There was nothing for you here, and you should’ve realised it long before tonight. 

“Y/N!” a voice suddenly called from behind and you turned instinctively to see Gerri running up to you, looking dishevelled and out of breath. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” you intoned after she stopped in front of you and caught her breath. 

Gerri hesitated a moment before saying hastily, “Uh, Winona. I asked Sam to call her. I-I thought you might be with her but she told me that you said something tonight about missing home.”

“You swim here?” you asked, looking at the state of her hair.

As if just then gaining self-awareness, she ran her fingers through her hair and brushed it back behind her ears. “No,” she breathed out with a little laugh. “It started raining and the streetcar would only take me until a few blocks down, and I didn’t want to wait for the next one because I thought it’d be too late.”

She was rambling. 

It used to be endearing, but now it sounded sorta stupid.

Everything seemed pretty stupid right now — even you.

Then she waited for you to say something in response, but you had nothing to say.

She raised her hand to show you the necklace you had thrown away earlier dangling from her fingers, the silver seashell pendant hanging from the end. 

“You dropped this,” she said, still panting slightly. The words sounded optimistic as she wasn’t entirely sure if you purposefully discarded it or accidentally lost it.

“Keep it,” you told her.

Gerri’s arm retracted and she laid the necklace in her other palm. Her actions were slow and it seemed that she was trying to make time for her to say something before she put the necklace away, but although her lips parted and her eyes flickered up a few times to look at you, she said nothing. Carefully, she slid the necklace into her jacket pocket. 

“I thought you had your departure ticket booked for tomorrow night,” she thought aloud, evidently stalling as she tried to come up with something useful to say. She looked up from her pocket to you and ran her hands down her coat nervously.

“Bought another one so I could leave early.”

Having it spoken out loud, putting it out there verbally that you were leaving early, planted a feeling of alarm in Gerri’s chest. She inhaled sharply and stepped towards you. She opened her mouth to say something, but the station’s speakers announced that your train was to leave within the next ten minutes.

Adjusting the strap of your backpack up your shoulder, you said, “I have to go.”

“O… Okay,” Gerri replied, stepping back so you could turn and wheel your luggage behind you. “Safe trip. Have one, I mean.”

The escalator down to Platform Five was just ahead, becoming closer with each of your steps, and you traced your path from the last time you were at the station. Recalling it pained you slightly as you thought back to how hopeful and eager you had been when you stepped off the train last week.

You expected so much — too much.

So much had changed since then, and it was only a week ago.

How hadn’t you realised how grave a few months’ difference could make until just an hour ago?

You felt so stupid. Everything felt so… stupid. 

Your face was hot and you were boiling in your jacket. Your bag was too heavy and your luggage was hurting your wrist. Then tears were forming in your eyes and you raised your other hand to wipe at your eyes. 

The rapid clicking of padding shoes echoed behind you and before you could look back, your wrist was taken and pulled back, forcing you to turn and drop your luggage. A hand came to the back of your head and in spite of how quick it all was, her hands were soft and her caresses were careful.

An arm rounded your waist and your body was pulled against Gerri’s.

Her lips were suddenly pressed against yours and you smelled a whiff of her perfume, now having faded away throughout the night. But you could smell it clearly now that you were pressed up against her, and she wouldn’t let any space come between the two of you. 

Like last summer and all the summers before, all the years spent knowing Gerri as your closest friend and your greatest love, you were swathed in her as if her scent and the feeling of her body, the feeling of her lips, were a warm blanket.

When your lips parted from hers, green eyes flickered down your face and Gerri whispered, “Why are you crying?”

You looked away from her and quickly swiped at your eyes.

Keeping her other arm around your waist, she raised her hand to your face and swatted your hands away so she could wipe your tears for you. She kissed your damp cheeks and seemed to not be able to get enough of feeling your skin against her lips, so she kept kissing you.

You turned your head and Gerri stopped kissing you to tilt her head and keep her eyes on yours. It didn’t seem like you wanted to talk. It didn’t seem like you knew what you wanted to say much less how you felt.

So she started talking instead.

She started with: “I’m sorry.”

It didn’t look like you believed her, so she cupped your cheek and made you look at her.  

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” she repeated.

You were looking into her eyes now and she had your attention, but you were silent. You were waiting for her to say something more, and she had a lot to say. She didn’t know how to start it all, so she just dove into it.

“I, um… I used to see you every day, and it became hard to be here without you. I had to make — force — a different version of myself to blend in with these assholes. It was easier than missing you. It was easier than…” She trailed off and you wondered if she’d give up and just let you leave. 

In spite of how confidently she spoke, her fingers tightened around your waist and you felt how nervous she was. Her hand moved down your wrist and her fingers danced anxiously against your palm.

But she continued. 

“It was easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend. That I am in love with my best friend,” she finally said, exhaling deeply, her breath trembling. She looked away from you and over at the floor behind you.

You followed her eyes to survey the sincerity of what she was saying. It seemed true. It all seemed true. It felt true.

Then she took a breath and met your eyes again.

“I thought that maybe I just needed to grow up — to realise that I couldn’t be that same old small-town girl who’s never gotten shit-faced drunk or who’s never had sex with a guy,” she tried to explain. 

She was stuttering a little. 

“I mean, god, Y/N, the people here are fucking crazy. But I don’t enjoy it. Not even a little. I hate being around people I don’t know — people I don’t like. I don’t want to have sex with guys.” Then she scoffed and in a quick drop of her hand that seemed the slightest bit subconscious, she took your hand. “I don’t even like guys. I mean, I don’t think I do. Or at least the ones here. I don’t know.”

Gerri’s breathing became quick and you could see that she was trying not to look away from you. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Please say something,” she pleaded.

Your lips parted and you were going to say something, you were, but Gerri suddenly blurted out, “I want to be your girlfriend. And I wanna kiss you again.” She leaned down and kissed your chin.

“I want to be able to kiss you there,” she whispered.

She kissed your cheeks and your temples.

“I want to kiss you here.”

Your knuckles were lifted up to her lips and she kissed each of your five fingers, looking into your eyes. Then she lowered your hand and leaned forward to kiss your lips again. “And here,” she breathed against you. “I want to kiss you here. Again. Whenever I want to. Whenever you want to.”

An announcement came onto the speakers.

Five minutes left until the train was to leave.

The announcement reined you back down to earth and you looked around at the people passing, rushing to their trains, children in-hand, perhaps meeting their families elsewhere, going to meetings.

Everyone else — where were they off to?

“Am I too late…?” Gerri whispered.

You looked back over to her. 

Everyone else… 

Did it matter? Nothing else mattered when you were with Gerri. Nothing else ever mattered when you were with her.

You shook your head and uttered a soft, “I love you too, Gerri.”

“Y/N…” she said quietly. “Things won’t be the same. If we break up, if we fight. Even if we’re together until we’re old, things will change. And between us, it’ll be different.”

“No, it’ll be just the same,” you finally replied. “It’ll always just be you and me. That isn’t any different from how it’s always been, right?”

Gerri let out a noise that sounded like a laugh or some kind of relieved exhale and she let go of your hand and wrapped her arms around your shoulders. She started apologising again and again for how she’d been treating you, for how stupid she was acting.

In half-intelligible teary words, she said she wished it could just be you and her again like it was last summer and all the other summers before. She hated how much she’d changed while you were gone.

Your bag slipped from your arm and you hugged her back, letting her cry into your shoulder in the middle of the train station. “I miss it all so much too, Gerri,” you confessed. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Then you started crying, and Jesus, did that make you feel like an idiot.

“I really hate Winona,” Gerri confessed and hugged you tighter, which made you laugh like an idiot too. 

Some things just don’t change.

And that felt good.

[alchemicalnightshade]

I don't know whether I'm looking in the wrong corners of the fandom; but I haven't seen anyone talking about this aspect of TMAGP; so I guess I'll do it here (sorry if I'm repeating something posted before elsewhere).

So we find out in TMAGP23 that Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood died separately, nearly twenty years ago (yes, that phrase is burned into my mind and did make me cry the first time I heard it).

If they have the same ages as they do in the TMA universe, which would make sense as the ages seem to line up for everyone else (eg Gerry Keay, Gertrude Robinson, Basira Hussein, Georgie Barker etc), then they were born in 1987 and would have died around 1999-2004 depending on when precisely TMAGP is set and whether they died before the institute burnt down in this universe.

This means that they were between 12 and at most 17 when they died - and we already know that they died of "a heart condition and a cycling accident".

If we suppose that Jon died of the heart condition because he was stabbed in the heart by Martin in TMA200, then just imagine preteen/teenage Jon (only a few years older than he was when he encountered A Guest for Mr Spider in the TMA universe) in hospital again and again for a heart condition that never improves, that eventually steals everything from him. Imagine him losing hope of ever living a long life like his peers, losing the innocent belief in invincibility that all kids have.

Imagine his grandmother, who'd already outlived her child, coming to terms with the fact that she will outlive her grandson too...

And Martin - he probably would have been cycling to or from secondary school (or to a part-time job if Alex Newall's illegal employment history made it into Martin's canon backstory), then he was hit by a car and bam, it's all over... Who knows how much his mother mourned?

Even reversed, it'd still be tragic af - and now I've made myself sad 😞

[gingiesworld]

Perfect (Kinktober)

Gerri Fields x GN! Reader

Warnings: Smut. Virgin Gerri. Amab! Reader

Taglist: @bababaka @natashaswife4125

18+ MINORS DNI

Heading off to college is a scary thing to most, especially when you're headed to a different college to your best friend since childhood. Gerri had settled into her dorm within the week, with countless phonecalls from her mom since she had arrived. That was also when she noticed that an old friend who she had drifted apart from wandering the halls.

"I see you still play." Gerri stated as she caught up to them, taking note of the drumsticks in their back pocket.

"Gerri?" They questioned as she nodded with a shy smile. "Wow, it has been ages."

"Well, technically a few months but who's counting." She teased as they chuckled lightly. "How have you been?" She asked them as the two walked across campus.

"I have been great, how about you? How was your summer?" They asked her as she nodded with a tight lipped smile.

"It was eventful, that's for sure." She told them.

"I heard about your dad." They told her. "My mom was there at his funeral. I'm sorry I couldn't come as I was at my dad's. You know the whole custody agreement."

"That's ok." She waved them off as they both approached a coffee cart. Y/N ordered two flat whites, not knowing exactly what Gerri's poison is just yet. "I had Lillie there with me and my mom."

"She is a strong woman." Y/N stated as they handed her the warm beverage. "Just like her daughter." Gerri blushed slightly as she took a sip of her drink, trying to avoid their eyes as old feelings came rushing back.

"Thank you." She whispered before they walked her back to her dorm, a promise of seeing each other open as the two finished their day's with smiles on their faces.

As the weeks went on and classes became more and more demanding. Y/N had also had more band practice which they had invited Gerri to tag along. As much as Gerri was nervous to be around other people she has no idea about, she was excited to be near Y/N once more.

"Who is this pretty lady?" Terrence questioned as he leaned on his mic stand as Y/N soon wrapped their arms around her waist, already sensing her uncomfortable state.

"This is Gerri, a really good friend of mine and she is off limits." Y/N pointed to each of them as they soon sat on their stool as Gerri stood at the side. Watching as they soon started to play one of their warm up covers.

Gerri couldn't help but feel a certain way as she watched the sweat soon drip from their form as they hit the drums to the perfect rhythm of the song. The concentration on their face as to make sure not to make a mistake which could cost them dearly.

As they soon changed into one of their own songs, Gerri's heart skipped a beat when Y/N also started to sing their line as they looked at the green eyed girl to the side. This brought out a whole new view of the friend she used to have when she was younger and in high school.

The goofy kid who had braces and acne had had the most incredible glow up she had ever seen and she wanted them. She wanted them to make her their's. To be her first time.

"What did you think?" Y/N asked her once they stood before her, she looked up with a dumbfounded look on their face as they smirked at her.

"I. Wow." She breathed out as she looked over the sweat dripping from them before they soon took her hands, leading her outside as they became concerned as she was flushed.

"Are you ok Gerri?" They asked her as she could only nod before taking their lips in hers. Groaning, they pushed her up against the wall beside the fire exit as their hands held her hips as she had her arms around their neck.

"Take me." She whispered as seductively as she could. "I want you to be my first." She told them as they just nodded, not bothering to tell their bandmates they were leaving as they led her back to their dorm.

Once they had closed the door, Gerri looked them in the eye as she stripped her clothes as Y/N made sure their door was locked. Stepping forward as she shed her clothes before she started to remove their sweaty clothes.

"Are you sure?" They asked her as she just nodded with her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I want this. I want you to be my first Y/N." She told them as her hands rested flat against their chest. They then captured her lips in a tender kiss before leading her to their bed, laying her down gently before continuing their kisses. Pulling back slightly to gaze into her green orbs.

"You are ethereal." They whispered before they started to kiss her neck. "Can I ask you something." She just nodded as her hands held their shoulders, caressing their skin. "Do you want this to be more than a one time thing because I don't think I can do a one time thing with you Ger."

"I want this to be more than that." She whispered before Y/N leaned in and kissed her once more. Their hands caressing her sides as she wrapped her arms around their shoulders and her legs around their waist. Her hips rolling against their own as their length unintentionally slipped inside. "Fuck." Gerri hissed at the stinging sensation before Y/N started to thrust slowly. Soon enough her moans of pain turned into sounds of pleasure as Y/N kept going at a slow and steady pace.

They moved their other hand between their bodies to circle her clit, helping her reach her climax as they sucked on her neck. Gerri was in a stated of pure euphoria as she let go, seeing stars as her legs trembled before they soon pulled out and finished on her stomach.

"That was." She whispered breathlessly as they smiled softly as she regained her composure.

"You're perfect." They whispered before kissing her softly. Gerri watched as they moved away and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth in their hands as she watched them clean her up with love and care. The butterflies in her stomach were going insane at the simple gesture.

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

“I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly” (Roman Roy x fem!reader)

An: I’m gonna try. Let’s see how this goes. As an asexual (demisexual panromantic) I can feel it in my asexual bones that Roman is so part of the asexual club. Like he’s panromantic for sure he will date and flirt and be with anyone who makes him feel ~wiggly~ so to speak. I think he felt it with Gerri, and felt it with Tabitha. He feels like that pull toward them. And if given the chance he probs does want to bang. Like, he just never has that talk of ‘oh if I just stop thinking and let this person who I trust more then anything know what’s going on in my brain space then it works’ like our man is just. I love him because I am him.

I’m gonna tag @romeulusroy because I heard they were having a bad day and maybe soft roman can help

He liked looking at her when she didn’t know he was, he liked the feeling she gave him. A rush inside that he’s felt so few times in his life. Roman liked her smile, the way her lips split to show her teeth, the way her nose wrinkled when she didn’t like something. He liked her. Liked her? No he was pretty sure he loved her. Well what he assumed was love, he was pretty sure he’s only ever felt the emotion a handful of times.

Once when he was a kid and found a baby duck in the backyard pond of his mothers villa, it was so small and he helped it back into the pond where it’s family was. He remembers the feeling of warmth watching the mother goose bump it’s little tail back into place. He imagined every duck he saw after was somehow that one duck growing and visiting him.

He remembers the feeling when connor had popped him on the bathroom counter and bandaged up his scraped and bleeding knee. Connor was what he assumed his friends parents were like. He liked feeling cared for. Even if it was rare.

He likes listening to her ramble about her bullshit job of being a coffee runner most days, how she wishes she could punch Karl or frank or even his dad in the face when they forget her name, even though she’s worked under Gerri for at least 2 years.

He loves waking up next to her, always before her, something in him, maybe because of military school, maybe because he always wanted to be up before his siblings to hope that his dad would let him join him at the office, or to get the best pieces of bacon or toast for breakfast. Not anymore, now it was to be able to have the few moments of staring at her. Her softened face against the pillows, her worry stripped from her forehead. The moments when he could scratch her scalp lightly with his fingers and she would just sigh in her sleep.

He loved her. He would marry her if the fear of a marriage being the prison of unhappy people. From his parents to Tom and shiv and even Kendall. Though he would push all of it away if it meant a forever of seeing her like this.

He remembers the conversation that made him fall. Hard and fast and slamming him into the cold pavement.

“I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly” it was a joke, she had laughed slightly looking down at her computer typing a report or email for Gerri or Karl or whoever was yanking her around this week.

“Roman we both know neither of us would enjoy that” it stung, she was right, but it stung.

“I mean I would rock your world for like a solid 3 seconds before you realise I have zero clue what’s going on” she had looked at him, cocking her head to the side, eye brow raised

“Roman. Can I ask you something.” He was caught off guard, his own walls coming up slightly, shrugging he looked around

“Yeah what’s up” he didn’t know why he couldn’t look at her suddenly but he just couldn’t.

“Do you know what asexuality is?” Asexuality? Obviously he did, biology and science was one class he knew he passed with more then a barley passing grade.

“Like fucking ameba and shit. They fuck themselves and bam! Another single celled whatever” she laughed, he turned to her then smiling a bit more

“I mean in the biology, organisms sense yeah, but like I mean in people,” Roman shrugged again shaking his head a little

“Some new fancy label the ‘woke’ mob has made to make people like my dad and Kendall rage for no reason?” She shook her head at that

“No Roman it means you don’t really like banging. Like, you could live with out it. So to speak, you could go your whole life never caring to want it. It wouldn’t change anything. And weird bathroom door Jack off sessions aside, it means your just not that into the whole sex thing” he felt his face flush at her mention of his brief weird relationship with Gerri. He simply looked at her

“I mean sex is…super cool….I love fucking, all night, we could do it right now, and it would be…explosive” he knew she could hear through his wavered tone

“Roman, do you know why I haven’t even pushed having sex?”

“I don’t know your weird and religious upbringing scared you for life with trauma?”

“Good guess but no…I’m asexual. Like, sex is just, a thing, I don’t care if we have it, or not, we could never and I would be 1000% okay with that. I don’t need you to bang me, how ever satisfying or not it would be, because I just, don’t need it.”

Roman stared at her then, his brain buzzing, heart slamming in his chest, he assumed like grace and Tabitha, one day you would clamber for him to attempt the unsuccessful routine of making out, hand stuff above his pants, a seemingly awkward game of red light green light before both of you gave up and you walked off to finish yourself in his bathroom.

“Roman, i haven’t brought it up, because if we never have sex ever, I wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t matter.”

He wanted to scream, and cry and hug her. He didn’t know why but he did. He simply stood up, walked over to her, yanked her up and kissed her. His hands holding her cheeks, hoping she understood what he meant in it.

When he pulled away she smiled at him nodding

“One day we may, who knows, but one thing is for sure. We’ll both lay each other badly”

“But gladly?”

“Yeah, but gladly”

[harrystylescherry]

tis the damn season vol. 2 SNIPPET

A/N: yes, you did in fact read that correctly. there will be a vol. 2 of tis the damn season...NOT part 2, but VOLUME 2. Meaning, this is not a continuation, or a kind of epilogue, but a whole other scenario. with a different character, in a different universe, but connected by the premise of miss swift's song...bc it is my favorite holiday tune. this will probably be posted around new years, so see you then!

read tis the damn season!

It was the Wednesday before Christmas, and the pub was empty—just how Harry liked it. This year, the holiday was on a weekend, which meant the crowd of school-days-past wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow at the earliest, semi-finishing out their work weeks.

Harry had been in Chesire for a week already, lazy-ing around his mum’s house and patiently waiting for his sister to come from London (she’d be part of the hoard arriving tomorrow). His mum was out for the night, at a holiday party she had with her friends every year. She had invited him along, but that week, he had already crashed a lunch and a festive dinner. The idea of round three felt pathetic.

His cousins were Christmas shopping for their baby—and it’s not that Harry didn’t want to join them, he just knew that it wasn’t the kind of shopping he was into. It was mission-based. Harry preferred the kind of shopping day that took hours and ended with a nice meal—whether or not he completed his list didn’t matter. It was the spirit of it.

So, he was alone. In a pub he frequented every time he came back. They had decorated for the holiday, with the top shelf of the bar lined with stockings that had the staff’s names written on—there were a few he didn’t recognize from the year before. It sat uncomfortably on his chest. He should make more time to visit home—because that’s what it still was to him. It didn’t matter where his house was, that he had spent more months in LA and New York alone (mostly) than he did his mum’s house. They weren’t the same, devoid of that special warmth and love that hit him each time he opened the heavy, oak door.

Garland hung around the perimeter of the room, from the ceiling, and also draped beneath the bar. Poinsettias (which he hated) filled vases on shelves that usually housed more appealing faux bouquets. He did like, however, the Christmas lights strung along the ceiling and wrapped around the posts throughout the space. It made it all quite cozy.

“Thanks, Gerry,” Harry said as he took his pint from across the bar.

The pub door opened, and with it came a gust of cold hair.

“Aye, it’s the new girl,” Gerry called across the bar to the other tender, his younger brother Tommy.

Harry turned just in time to see the smirk on the face of the supposed newcomer. He wasn’t sure if the chill that moved through him was from the burst of cold or the energy that radiated from her. She was completely bundled up, from her big boots to her bright red beanie.

She plucked it off by its pom-pom and dropped it onto the bar top, only five seats down from Harry. “Not new, temporary,” she said.

“Only ‘cause we haven’t won you over yet. Just wait, you won’t dream of leavin’ by time we’re done with you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and unwound the pink and red striped scarf from her neck. She draped it over the seat next to her, then peeled off her coat, revealing long, dark hair that had been tucked down her back.

She was pretty. Harry could tell just from her profile. From her voice. Her nose was suited for a fairy and her cheeks were round—stained pink from the wind.

“The usual?” Tommy asked.

“Please,” she said as she pulled the sleeves of her cream sweater over her hands and fought off a shiver.

“Hi.”

Harry jolted out of his trance and flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring.

“I’m Rosie.” She smiled.

“Harry.”

“I know.” The smirk was back, and he thought, seeing her face so clearly now, it made her look even more beautiful. If that was even possible.

“Right.” He looked down and spun his glass on its coaster,

He heard her thank Tommy for whatever her usual was and listened as they fell into easy, friendly conversation.

“Care to join us?”

He looked up and was met with her smile, and expectant looks from the boys who stood on the other side of the bar, their own drinks in their hands.

“Uh, yeah, why not?”

Harry moved down until they were only a seat apart.

“Rosie’s from London,” Tommy supplied. “Like you.”

“No, technically, Harry’s from here,” Gerry corrected.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Are you visiting family?” Harry cut him off. “For Christmas?”

“Uh, no,” she said with a scrunch of her nose. Harry left her room to elaborate, but she didn’t.

“Rosie’s a writer,” Gerry offered, before taking a sip of his beer. She blushed behind the curtain of her hair.

This was how his small village operated. A new person meant new information, new stories to pass around and gossip about. It didn’t matter if that person was sitting right in front of them. It was charming, but also terrifying. Especially if the stories making the rounds about you weren’t exactly tame, or inconsequential, or PG-13.

“Is she?” He asked, his eyes looking over her.

“I write novels for young adults. Well, I wrote one novel. I’m working on the second. Supposed to be, anyway.”

“S’why she’s here.” Tommy supplied before downing the rest of his glass, just as the pub door opened again.

“Is it?” He was aware that his attempts to flirt right now were abysmal, but he didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk to her, not Tommy. He wanted to pry and tease and slide into the seat next to her, but he couldn’t do that with them watching so closely. The things the town would say about that...so these redundant questions were all he had.

“Sort of.” That was all she offered before taking a sip from the glass of white wine in front of her.

[robyn-i-guess]

gerrymichael enjoyers and writers i want your opinion 🎤

ok so i have this au fic for gerrymichael where it's college au, and it's a like the whole bad boy/good girl (minus the fact they're both boys, and even that's questionable)

basically, gerry is stereotyped due to his more alternative looks and everyone assumes he's probably doing illegal things or just sleeps around a lot

meanwhile michael is the head of student council "goody two shoes" type, who most are sort of aware of but don't know anything about

gerry thinks about michael. a lot. he sees them in the halls for only a few seconds a day but thinks about him for a lot longer. hallway crush vibes. and when they get put into a painting class together, suddenly they have an opportunity to meet, and gerry is freaking out a usual amount. (there's more to the whole plot but that's just the beginning bit)

putting a short lil concept thing under the cut

Gerard Keay does not know Michael Shelley.

The only reason he knows their name is because they're in the student council, meaning it's not uncommon for their name to be said during school events.

He has only seen them in hallways, passing by in a rush while holding papers or books that always seem like they're going to fall out of their hands. Even in those moments, most of what Gerard is able to catch is a blur of golden curls and eyes that are ridden with exhaustion.

So, it is safe to say that he does not know Michael.

That fact only caused confusion to him whenever Gerard realized his strange excitement once learning that Michael would be in one of his classes for the semester.

It was an art class, one that he had picked due to him already being practiced is painting and drawing. He assumed it would be a fun class, or at least one that wouldn't be too stressful. However, when he had first walked into that classroom and saw Michael Shelley sitting at an area in the back, Gerard had assumed the emotion he was feeling was stress. He couldn't pinpoint why, it wasn't like he was intimidated by their status, but he couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness he felt when he accidentally locked eyes with them. He turned his head quickly in that moment, deciding to sit in the front of the room despite that not being where he'd usually prefer to be. Something about Michael sitting there made Gerard think twice about sitting in the back as he normally would.

The lecture went smoothly, it mostly being an introduction to the professor and what would be happening throughout the classes. So did the next, and then the next one after that. That didn't get rid of the feeling he felt, however, every time that Gerard walked into that room and attempted to avoid looking at the one with golden curls in the back. He knew he'd have to talk to them at some point, it was inevitable, but there was something about them that meant he was more nervous to talk to them than he usually would be. And he very much denied the idea that it could be caused by any... feelings he may have. Gerard ruled it as impossible, as he had never spoken to them, and he wasn't that much of an idiot to fall for someone he'd only mostly seen in hallways.

Michael wasn't one to speak up in class, and instead they'd work silently on any research on the history of art they may have been doing, only giving simple responses or nods when the professor would come around and ask how their work was coming along. When Gerard thought about it, he didn't really know what their voice sounded like because it was always quiet or unintelligible from their distance. That only made him more interested in talking to them.

That day never came, though, much to Gerard's disappointment.

They both went through that class without talking to each other once, and when Gerard left that room for the last time he couldn't help but feel like he had failed at some kind of goal. A failure that had meant he would be left with only seeing the elusive Michael Shelley in hallway rushes again, which annoyed him in a way he didn't understand.

He did talk to them one day, though.

(note this is old as heck lmao i've gotten better at writing since i wrote this)

anyways yeah. should i continue it or is it too basic idk, i want to write it for me but it would also be multiple chapters long and my "1k-words-is-rare-for-me" self probably won't bother to write it unless someone else is interested

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Unwanted Visitor, PT 3

Part 1's here, Part 2 here, enjoy! (I swear I'll finish apns soon, but I just got a bad case of new-wip-itis)

The sun was shining, the wind was pleasantly cooling, and it was a wonderful day. At least, it would have been if I hadn't been cycling for my life. My feet pumped like hell was on my heels, and my thighs ached from the exertion.

As I passed through the gates, I could hear the bell chiming, a warning to students that the doors would be locked soon.

"Wait!" I screeched, pulling on the brakes as the gates swung shut.

The guard, Mr Gerry, was standing there with his arms crossed. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't we?" he teased.

"Yes, sorry," I panted, leaning on the bike for support. "You know, I wouldn't be this late if school started at a sane time, right? Who the hell gets up and ready at 10?"

Mr Gerry laughed. "I don't know. You might wanna start waking up earlier, though. If you're late one more time, the school'll give you detention."

"I know, I know," I grumbled. It was all Visitor's fault. He had turned off my alarm, wrecked the wheels on my bike, held me up with his pranks and so much more, and it was taking a toll on my attendance.

"Anyway, I've got to go. You should hurry too, Aida." Mr Gerry waved me through the gates, and I dumped my bike to the side.

Joining the tail end of the flood of students entering the halls, I flipped up the hood of my jacket. Being the weird kid who lived at the edge of town was social suicide, and not being allowed to invite anyone over made matters worse. I was stuck being the butt of all the jokes, and I couldn't even beat them up, because I would get suspended. (Don't get me started on what happened when I poured bleach all over their lockers and ruined their stuff.)

"Oh, look, it's AIDS on legs," someone hissed as I walked by, and I artfully ignored the muffled laughter that followed me. I hated my name, or at least the first part of it. It was ripe for the mocking. I mean, what the hell kind of archaic name was 'Aida', anyways?

Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do. I was still a kid, after all, albeit not for long. Soon, though. Soon I would be free of these idiots and I would move out into the great world. I comforted myself with that thought as I stepped through the door, prepared for the next session of the shitshow that was my school.

"Good morning, Miss O'Dell. I trust you have a good reason for being late?" My homeroom teacher, Miss Kearney, glared at me from her seat.

I sighed. "No, Miss." I doubted that 'my spirit held me up by causing trouble' was a valid excuse.

"I'll let you off this time, but do it again and you're in deep trouble, Aida," Miss Kearney snapped. She wasn't usually so snappish, but she'd had a bad day, apparently. All the better for me, I thought bitterly.

"Yes, Miss." I slid into my chair in the back row, the most unobtrusive spot in the room.

"Okay, now that everyone's here, we can finally introduce a special guest. She's an exorcist consultant for the police; Please welcome Mrs Bell, everyone," Miss Kearney said.

"Hello," a woman with brown hair stepped into the classroom. Her suit was impeccably crisp and her smile was perfectly polite. I instantly disliked her.

"Mrs Bell has kindly agreed to teach us a bit about the paranormal. You'll have plenty of time to ask questions, but for now, listen up," Miss Kearney said sternly.

The class sat up straighter, looking interested. The paranormal was a big interest amongst the students. Magic was rare in Palioden, and exorcists were both respected and beloved by the people. I wanted to be a mage, when I grew up. (Everyone did, but I was one of the few who had an affinity for it.)

Miss Bell stood to the fore of the whiteboard, brandishing her pointer like a wand. “Children, what do you know of spirits? Not the cute sort you see on television, that is. The real kind.”

A smattering of hands shot up. The nice thing about my class was that most of us were teacher's pets, and that allowed me to slip right past their notice. 

“Spirits are the most powerful sort of twice-dead. They're found in the Celitane Forests, the Syvniko Mountain Range and west Palioden,” Lucia piped up. Lucia was exactly the sort of person I hated, popular and people-pleasing. The feeling was mutual, and she was one of the main proponents of the Anti-Aida-Army (or AAA as I liked to call them).

“Correct!” Miss Bell clapped for her, and I rolled my eyes in disgust. “What an excellent foundation of knowledge you children have! I see my job is already half done,” she added with a wink, and I finally understood why Visitor was scared of exorcists. If they were all so sickly sweet, they could probably melt his eyes out with their friendliness. 

“Now, we've received reports of a spirit haunting this area, so my team sent me to help you all understand spirits and how to deal with them!” That made me sit up a little. Had my parents finally grown a pair and reported Visitor? “Firstly, spirits differ from humans in three major ways; They're translucent to the human eye, they have unusual eye colours and they have sharp teeth. So if you spot someone who covers most of their face and body, and never reveals their teeth, you may have met a spirit. And if that's the case, you need to report it to the police!”

I was incredibly tempted to point out that a great deal of those who covered their entire body were simply doing it in the name of their religion, but the need to not get noticed outweighed my wish to stir up trouble. “Why do we have to tell the police? Are they dangerous?” It was Jack, member of the AAA and possessor of approximately 2 brain cells. 

“Yes, they're very dangerous,” Miss Bell said, her sugary expression hardening. “That's why I'm here, because this isn't a playing matter. Spirits kill people for fun, for their own pleasure, for no reason at all. While one is free, we cannot rest.” I thought that was rather dramatic; Visitor had never harmed a hair on my head, for all his threats. 

“I'm going to ask you an important question now. Which of you has been harbouring a spirit?” Miss Bell smacked the pointer against the teacher's table, and I flinched. “I know one of you did it, and I know which of you did it. Now, own up.”

Taglist here:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[reggiejworkshop]

"Wes Montgomery"

So, Iv'e been listening to a lot of old school, cool jazz as of lately. Kenny Burrell, Gerry Mulligan, and Grant Green to name a few. But especially the late great guitarist, Wes Montgomery. Pretty much most of all fusion and smooth jazz artists of today have this guy to thank.

I decided to do a semi caricature/portrait during two livestreams I did earlier this weekend. And while I think it's far from perfect; don't think I nailed the likeness exactly; I am satisfied with the mood that I wanted to create.

[shivvytheshiv]

ao3 is fucking me up so i’ll post here for the time being. please share with the credits only!!

fandom: hbo succession

ship: roman roy x gerri kellman

themes: it was supposed to be a five times fic but we lower it to three and dont ask questions. precanon + s2 + postcanon. gerri’s practically doing roman character analysis and roman is a slime puppy

It’s 2AM when that happens for the first time — or, at least, that’s how she recalls it an abyss of ten years later. A crazy day filled with Baird’s relatives, hyperactive five graders and “Happy Birthday” pop-tarts was soon to be over, with girls in their beds and Baird hopefully deep in his sleep, and Gerri is cherishing her moment. Any crazy management malfunctions consisting of sleepless nights and Logan throwing laptops at the wall could never stress her out as much as kids birthdays did, but for all she knew she did okay. This one wasn’t a total disaster. Was about time she’d take her mascara off, finish that martini (or what’s left of it), and head to sleep.

Obviously, that’s when the phone rings. How could it not. Gerri takes a long sip and makes up her very own mental kill list, — she will flip Kendall off, she will give Frank a minute to try and talk some sense and flip him off eventually, she will flip Karl off.

”Roman Roy mobile”, her screen confidently says. Gerri likes to think that’s where the problems started.

Roman has always struck her as some twisted middle ground, if that fuckery of a family could ever produce a middle ground. He wasn’t the second Ken, being all over Waystar sniffing cocaine off the executive floor. He wasn’t totally estranged in a different career field (or most literally a field) like Shiv or Connor. Roman was… there, technically. Middle son, various boarding schools, now constantly flying back and forth from California and being a pain in Frank’s ass. Pretty eccentric around the studio. Never missed a corporate retreat. Most information Gerri had on Roman Roy would fit in a nice dry portfolio.

Heavy caged breathing, almost loud enough to disturb the speakers, would not. Sobbing — is he sobbing?

“Gerri. Did they, did I even get the fucking number right? Did they tell you? Are you, like, there yet? You going at all?”

She can physically feel a freezing blow down her spine. He was surely sobbing. Did the old man have a stroke overnight?

“I’m home, Roman. What’s going on?” She tries to balance out the world’s stiffiest question with some softness, too much to her liking, but to no avail.

“Fuck. Fuck! Because I’m dragging my ass all the way from the fucking La-la-land to some hospital, I don’t have the slightest clue where the fuck that’d be, and they didn’t even tell you, and Shiv’s in France for all I know, probably eating a lobster and blowing the cruises dingbat. And dad’s gonna go mental. A great fucking night. They didn’t tell you?”

The shook in his voice is real, and Gerri wishes to believe it’s from the rush: dealing with her own emotions is enough of a challenge, figuring out emotions of a twenty-something nepobaby sounding so broken something sinks down in her ribcage, while knowing so little, is cruel.

“Gerri. Is he, like. Dying?”

Yet, she tries. She puts the glass back on the kitchen sink with a loud, dull noise, she goes for her jacket and the door keys. This fucking job, Gerri thinks. And this fucking family.

“No one is dying, alright? I’ll check on the hospital address and will get back to you. I’ll see you there, Roman.”

*

Surely it was Kendall. Kendall used a bunch and drove his car into an ice cream stand somewhere around Upper Side; smashed the hood, passed out thanks to the airbag and the weight of his own stupidity; the Hosseini kid company didn’t help much. Karolina gets ahold of the situation an hour later, and that’s how Gerri finds out he got away with few broken bones and that the car was apparently Logan’s (a wild and unfortunate combination of factors, if you ask her, but at least Roman’s concerns didn’t live up to be real).

Gerri walks down a hallway and it’s as messy as hospital hallways get: nurses here and there, Shiv’s nervous voice soaking through Karolina’s firm grab (she’s on speakerphone for God knows what reasons), Frank on his phone. She steps into one of the most depressing waiting rooms she’s ever seen and there’s Roman.

Roman is sitting on the floor, head pressed against a couch, eyes closed. An hour isn’t long enough to fall asleep like that, is it? She’s still quiet when sitting down on that very couch. He moves an inch and rests his head against her knee in dead silence.

Not exactly corporate ethics.

“I told you it’s gonna be alright.”

“Yeah, well. He’s one dumb motherfucker.”

The kid’s a mess, after all. Gerri freezes but gives him a moment, — silence, a hand on his forehead, bit of nothing and everything, — and moves out of the picture right before it turns weird.

**

Gerri is reading through an impressive pile of emails when her phone buzzes. And it buzzes some more.

Roman’s been on the trainee programme for three days.

“Roman. What is it?” No deep breaths could help her get through that bullshit, but oh well. Gerri puts him on speaker and tries real hard to concentrate on the legal department’s claims.

“I will literally unalive myself. Not even joking. You have no idea how many rape victims kill themselves per year and this is worse, because that’s mind rape. They have a chainsaw going through my fucking head.”

“You don’t how many rape victims kill themselves per year. How’s that my problem anyway?”

“Yeah, let me think, Professor Fucking Evil. For starters, you sent me.” Roman sounds like he’s about to howl. Gerri hides a smile in her palm and looks around at the office, lights from her lamp playing on glassy walls, her daughters’ framed picture by the computer. Good god, she must look stupid. Nothing about the thing was normal, but Roman Roy had a free pass to everything not-so-normal, and she was genuinely confused at the borders of professionalism and playfulness.

Not unamused though.

“It’s for the better. The outlook back in here is highly positive, Logan’s content, Frank is ecstatic. If I were you I’d strategically choose less whining, more working. Yeah, soldier?”

“Okay, whatever, Herr Gerr. One quality picture would’ve bo-o-o-oosted my work efficiency, just saying.” The line between recent despair in his voice and cat-like audacity is way too blurred.

“Oh, fuck you.”

***

There’s beeps. Some more. Gerri sees him through the matte glass door, back hunched, a red shirt she recognizes from a lifetime before; he doesn’t hang up and stares at the screen. She waits for a split second before hanging up.

Honestly, she’s thankful for not seeing his face.

Gerri thought walking inside is hard but approaching the bar is painful. Roman is gazing at his vodka tonic like there’s some serious answers at the bottom, she breathes in one more and thinks about that nightmare of a company, the work that’s to be done, the way Kendall popped his stitches in that room, the way he stomped all over her twenty five years of work, — not something Gerri would easily forgive, — and the way there’s no saving for these kids. If there was, is it right to drown it in a fucking vodka tonic?

“Hey, rockstar”.

“Hey, molewoman”. A chalk-on-the-board voice. Gerri hesitates for another moment and puts both of her hands over his shoulders.

They stay for a while like that.

[bamboobrat]

succession s4 e2 recap: hitman santa claus and an audition tape from hell

time for this weeks recap, you guys! i'm going into gerri withdrawal, so this feels a bit like pulling teeth, but lets get into this trauma dump of an episode, shall we?

logan is apparently still in his feelings about last episode, but like any man of a certain age, he doesn't want to talk about it.

what he wants to do: take away the kids' helicopter privileges and scrutinize a poor man writing an email.

the kids on the other hand are planning the future of their brand new, 10 billion dollar media empire.

good thing they are really in touch with the people. as we all know, the american public is notoriously famous for being interested in foreign affairs.

it's also connor's rehearsal dinner and he voices his concern his sibs won't make it in the most boomer way possible.

shiv's "taking calls and looking upset" plot line continues.

we will get you that emmy, snookie.

tom's hogged all the good divorce lawyers in new york, similarly to what logan once did to caroline. a truly specific example of generational trauma or something.

logan is at ATN, just chillin' like a villain on the floor.

tom reacts to the news as any employee would, knowing their boss is in the office:

me running back from a one hour lunch after reading on slack that the boss is coming in.

tbh i'd take shiv calling me a lil bitch boy any day.

my close captions did this, and i can't figure out if it's a mistake or tom fucking with greg craig.

also, something tells me greg's sex tape does not have late night tv potential.

and now, for the main star of the show:

kerry's audition tape.

turns out she wants to be a host at ATN. i think roman and kendall speaks for all of us when they say:

never seen kendall so happy.

clearly, logan is the biggest anti-nepotism advocate out there, so he doesn't really want to have a say in what happens to kerry.

calling cyd and tom geniuses, though... seems fishy. perhaps it is not professionalism that is driving him, after all. i guess we will never know.

shiv continues to rack up the largest phone bill ever by talking to sandi (or is it sandy? i care to little to look it up) about potentially asking mattson for more money.

upside: more money. downside: he might just walk away from the table and they'll be stuck with a 10 billion dollar bill and a legacy media company where they focus on the very narrow topics of globan and extremely local.

personally, i don't even fully understand how the stock marked works, and even i can tell that this is a bad idea. but self-destructive people are going to self-destruct i guess.

speaking of:

WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT!!!!!!

logan does a murdoch type speech on the top of printing paper and rips an ATN employee to shreds.

if you ever went to j-school, you know this is the most horrifying scenario.

numbers? i'm a journalist, i can't do math.

logan also quotes a bit of daft punk:

and is completely calm and collected the entire speech, as we have come to expect of logan.

i truly believe logan and brian cox have morphed into one person during the four seasons of succession. i can't tell you why, but i also think this scene is proof.

also, logan is getting a BUNCH of screen time these first few episodes. could they pull the rug out from under us all and kill him off by episode 5? one can only hope.

the kiddos aren't allowed to take the company helicopter to connor and willa's rehearsal dinner and kendall is calm, cool and collected.

it's certainly a long way away from him running after that town car during the first attempt at overthrowing logan in season one. how far he's come. i'd like some of whatever it is he is taking.

stewy and sandi show up to convince the sibs to renegotiate the price with mattson.

i love stewy. i really do. but the show runners don't know how to use him properly anymore, i think. please, for the love of god, give the man some lavender. give him something more to do!

willa does what any young lesbian woman would do: ditch her own rehearsal dinner to have drinks with twenty of her closest friends.

it's not like the bride is needed at that sort of event, anyway.

roman shares my coping mechanism when dealing with any sort of emotional turmoil:

and so does connor, apparently:

there's nothing chocolate and a good rendition of 'don't stop me now' can't fix.

the show runners _really_ want you to know mattson is swedish with the bilar and the julmust and being aggressive whilst also saying you're not being aggressive.

it's the scandi way.

i feel represented.

the threat doesn't work on kendall, though. on the contrary, he's got kid brain and will do anything he is told not to do, so he goes back to back shiv on renegotiating the price. once again, roman is teamed up on, even though i stg he is the only one of the sibs making any sense lately.

this is connor's best attempt at being folksy:

hoegaarden haters unite. i knew there was a reason i liked connor.

positive note: he finally gets his way and they go to karaoke. negative note: he contacts logan and it all ends in a confrontation that makes me want to set myself on fire:

screaming, crying, throwing up.

we get another logan monologue of sorts, with certain interjections from the kids. potentially the first honest encounter this show has ever seen? i'm sick of brian cox face by now, so i couldn't be fucked to screengrab.

just have him die already. he's only there because he acknowledges that the kids have "got juice" and yet he calls them "not serious people".... i guess he is right, but i don't have to like it, okay!!!

roman comes crawling back and asks logan this:

logan responds that he needs him and it's the only thing i think roman has ever wanted to hear and i'm going to go scream into a pillow now.

i guess this marks the end of the siblings teaming up (for now). rip.

i feel drained.

bonus:

gerri is still out in the cold in all the ways and is absolutely NOWHERE in this episode. i'm glad she too had the chance to smirk at kerry's audition tape, but it was with hugo.... cancels itself out.

that being said, i've seen the trailer for next week's episode, and i am ready to be hurt again.

cheers!

[wolfliving]

"Fun Palaces," then and now

In 1961 Joan Littlewood and Cedric Price designed a Fun Palace building – a ‘laboratory of fun’. They imagined a building linked through technology to other spaces, accessible to those who wouldn’t normally go to arts venues or great centres of learning. Joan said, “I do really believe in the community. I really do believe in the genius in every person. And I’ve heard that greatness come out of them, that great thing which is in people.”

The original design said:

“Choose what you want to do – or watch someone else doing it. Learn how to handle tools, paint, babies, machinery, or just listen to your favourite tune. Dance, talk or be lifted up to where you can see how other people make things work. Sit out over space with a drink and tune in to what’s happening elsewhere in the city. Try starting a riot or beginning a painting – or just lie back and stare at the sky.”

Unfortunately that ideal space was never created, although there were a few incarnations of potential Fun Palaces, Joan’s Stratford Fair in 1975 among them. In 2013 we re-imagined Fun Palaces as a space that any of us could create, wherever we live – championing more equitable uses of the under-used buildings and spaces we already have and genuinely community-led. There’s a blog about how our version started here.

This first imagining was simply as a celebration of Joan’s centenary – what we didn’t know in 2013 was how many people would be excited by this idea and how many communities would take it on and make it their own, helping us grow it into a campaign for cultural democracy and the annual Weekend of Celebration it has become – local people sharing skills, creating tiny revolutions of connection.

Stanley Mathews has a great piece about the original Fun Palace design here.

Joan Littlewood, Theatre Director (1914-2002)

Joan was born in South London on 6 October 1914, she died in 2002. At eighteen she won a scholarship to RADA and, having left drama school early, she walked from London to (almost) Manchester to get away from the constraints of 1930s London theatre. In Manchester she met Ewan MacColl. They worked with actors and writers, making dynamic and provocative work. Following political activism during the Spanish Civil War and WW2, the company reformed as Theatre Workshop. In 1946, they were invited by Ruth Pennyman to live and work from Ormesby Hall, which they did for eighteen months. The company toured and worked together, developing the Laban-based movement work and ensemble that became their hallmark. At the end of 1952 the company decided to return to a settled base. MacColl chose to stay in the north, Theatre Workshop moved to Stratford.

The Theatre Royal Stratford East was a dilapidated palace of varieties when Littlewood and her partner Gerry Raffles took it over in January 1953. The company renovated the building and Joan’s great causes – community and political theatre, improvisation, the working class language, the inclusion of children – helped change the face of British theatre.

She had numerous hits, most notably Oh! What A Lovely War, Fings Ain’t What They Used To Be and A Taste of Honey. Her production of Brendan Behan’s The Quare Fellow brought Behan international acclaim. Joan worked with many artists at the start of their careers, people who later became household names including Barbara Windsor, Harry H Corbett, Lionel Bart, Victor Spinelli and Murray Melvin....

[spiralsandeyes]

I loved reading the Magnoliaverse and especially playing with matches, and one thing that I ended up very curious about was more about Michael's backstory in this au? He's one of the characters who shows up a lot and has a lot of backstory vaguely referenced but never gets a perspective to explore that so I was wondering if you'd be down to share what ideas you had for his backstory while you were writing. Thanks in advance!

omg thank you so much for this! :')) answer got long so i'm putting it under a cut <3

it's actually kind of funny that you ask this... playing with matches has always been the heart of magnolia verse to me, and future installments were/are going to focus on the characters in that fic (particularly agnes, oliver, julia and gerry, with some others). most of them have pretty detailed backstories in my mind but michael was one of the ones whose history i've actually thought less about!

i did have a few things in mind - michael had one particularly shitty relationship when he was ~16/17 that he still carries a lot of baggage from. he had crushes before that but never anything he was brave enough to act on, so it was pretty formative for him wrt his expectations for relationships. he was basically being strung along and used by a guy who didn't have strong romantic feelings for michael the way michael did for him. michael also didn't have a lot of friends growing up, or at least not since childhood, so he really wants to be loved (in any capacity, but he's particularly insecure about the romantic). going back and forth with his divorced parents didn't help with this - he stays with his mom most of the time and had to move when he was ~13-14, uprooting most of his life to a different school where he knew no one, and he never really settled in and found friends there. he's also pretty socially anxious and until meeting gerry, hasn't quite figured out how to get out into the world. he's a homebody mostly because he doesn't know how to be anything else (yet), and though he has art school friends, they aren't very close. too much of his impressions of queerness and college life were formed by the internet/popular media and he has a bit of an inferiority complex about it - he's very aware that he doesn't Do Much aside from art and feels like a loser because of it. (this is an unfortunate combo with his body image issues, insecurities about what he can offer in a relationship, and him being very much starstruck by gerry's band, leading to some of the conflict you see in playing with matches). some other random details: he's out to his parents but has a slightly strained relationship with both of them (he's closer with his grandma on his mom's side!), he has severe adhd but i don't think he knows it yet, he's been drawing for basically his whole life but recently focusing on art forms that involve more physical processes because it's good for his mental health (atm it's various forms of sculpture).

but honestly i've thought a lot more about michael's future than his past! at this point i've been telling people for years that magnolia verse is still in progress and feeling more and more guilty when a completed work fails to materialize, but i still can't stand the thought of leaving it as-is and have to believe in my ability to finish one more fic, so... there Will be one more... but probably not anytime soon and it probably won't be gerrymichael centric. so i'll just tell you about the gerrymichael fic i DID have planned lmao.

so: ex altiora goes viral and gets very popular very quickly when they finish school and release a full album. the speed of it is great for their careers and bad for their mental health. agnes and gerry really struggle with it. gerry in particular starts getting a lot of fans which makes him REALLY nervous because he's going stealth, trying to hide from his mom, and just generally not super interested in being a public sex object! this is a little bit Weird for his relationship with michael. he gets pretty (reasonably) paranoid and wants to keep his personal life very private, but michael Does Not Get It and is hurt because he feels like he's being kept a secret. he's also a little bit jealous of the attention, though he won't admit it, and is overall experiencing new depths of insecurity that he will (eventually) Finally get to process because he still thinks of gerry as the Cool One with all the power in the relationship. meanwhile gerry is so anxious and trying to cope with the spotlight of sudden internet fame/irl fame in certain contexts (i.e. shows) and feels like he can't confide in michael about it. the tension in his and julia's friendship is also reaching a breaking point around then and they have a huge fight which leads to them (gasp) speaking honestly about thoughts and feelings they've had for years! but anyway. everything gets sorted out in the end, and michael and gerry end up much happier! michael resolves his issues, gerry comes out to the world, they work out boundaries together, everyone becomes closer :)

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

Ouuggh Misty and Logan sounds so nasty but I am intrigued

Karyn Kusama said Misty was a frustrated leader. Someone like Logan would pick up on that. I think she'd take him back to young Gerri, and whatever feelings he had then. He'd definitely notice her killer instinct and her fearlessness. Of course, any feelings like that would be compounded by the fact she has this maniacal attachment to Shiv and might actually be insane. She's also younger than his daughter, but at the end of the day would that really stop Logan if he wanted to pursue somebody?

I'm not saying it would have to be explicitly romantic. There could be ambiguity like with Gerri and Rhea. But just imagine Shiv disappearing like Nat, and Logan realizing the most discreet person to help find her is this weird woman who was in the crash and who first alerted him to the fact Shiv was even gone (he doesn't know what Shiv did exactly in the woods, but he knows he doesn't want some untrustworthy P.I. to find out)...and then he starts considering this rather mad but doubtlessly brilliant woman obsessed with his daughter as possibly someone who could be repolished enough to lead Waystar....but then he's enraged by all those fucking musicals she listens to and that fucking parrot, yet it's weird how much she reminds him of young Gerri...

And then what if Mistly accidentally fucking kills Shiv? Just as he arrives at the compound with Colin to surprise his daughter? WHAT THEN, READER?

Anyway, here's them first meeting:

The festivities finally showed signs of slowing down. Logan hoped to make as quiet a getaway as he could. He’d finally given in after Shiv openly pouted just a few too many times, rare for him but not unheard of when it came to her. He stayed through the entire match, not just the first half as he usually did. It was a big one, a big win, one that got them into States. 

His pride in Siobhan was fierce. She’d been a single-minded warrior out there, a deadly machine as she charged the ball down the expansive green. He saw his own fire and grit in her tight face, in her ruthless footwork. He’d cried out in primal pride along with the rest of the crowd. He couldn’t help it. He was taken back to his time in Dundee, unwinding after a fruitless day of research and scavenging for anything flashy to take back to the paper. He released his rage by screaming as the players ran, his blood up. The sweat and scent of danger, blood in the air, warriors again, true warriors as the slaughter raged on.

This time, though, it was a sweeter, juicier victory. That was his child out there.

He never loved Shiv more.

However, now came the true reason he never before stayed until the end aside from constant scheduling conflicts: he knew there’d be this mad fucking crush. First he endured as many crowding, brownnosing fathers as he could, either trust fund Brahman cunts who wanted to rub their old money in his face while looking to invest, or fellow new money patriarchs who wanted to climb higher up the social and corporate ladder.

After, there was wading through the leftover students littering the area between the stadium and the parking lot, a difficult journey even with Colin paving a path before him. For demanding such a large sum to mold the One Percent’s sperm into civilized leeches, the authorities at this school clearly never came down hard on those specimens drinking their weight in cheap watery beer. He dodged groups of teens bedecked in blue and yellow facepaint, all howling at the night sky like a pack of wolves that stumbled onto an open trough of Bud Lite.

Through the celebratory din came an awed young voice: “Are you Shiv’s dad?”

Logan turned from the car door Colin opened for him. His bodyguard was highly aware but not on the alert, obviously. All there was in front of them was the little equipment manager he noted during the game. Far from a drunken wolf, she looked more like a cocker-spaniel both up close and from the stands. With that frightful hair and that ceaseless hopping up and down, especially when Shiv was on the field, she exuded total adoration (the spaniel starving for a pat on the head from its master). Up close, Logan thought he’d never seen such bare, raw neediness and worship in anyone’s eyes before. 

Shiv’s dad, she called him. 

Something nagging simmered, but he gave her his best Santa smile regardless. “Yes, I am.”

The fervor only brightened those staring eyes as she came nearer, awed, but not at him, not at him. “Your daughter is the most amazing person,” she said almost breathlessly. “Just the kindest, smartest person I’ve ever met! She’s my best friend in the whole world.”

Logan held back his sneer as he took her in. That frizzy fair, that worshiping smile, those desperate, desperate eyes behind their glasses  – he could tell in an instant his Siobhan probably was barely aware who this girl was. 

Had she been a subordinate, he could have properly cut her down to size; but snapping at a teenage girl at his daughter’s soccer match to show some dignity would decidedly look a bit poor. – not with so many witnesses, not with so many trust fund dads with their gleaming teeth and quiet laughs hovering in the distance.

So he kept up the Santa facade, all while manifesting the interaction to end. “Well, that is very kind of you to say. And what’s your name?”

“Misty Quigley,” she darted her hand out quickly, and Logan couldn’t help feeling something close to amused as he shook it. “I’m the team’s equipment manager.”

“Yes, I noticed. You did very well. You were very quick with that Gatorade, weren’t you?” Not a spaniel, more like a sheepdog keeping track of its herd and pouncing whenever one panted just a little too much.

She was genuinely touched and made no effort to conceal that. “Thank you. Dehydration is one of the leading causes of sports-related injuries.” She leaned forward, her glasses catching the headlights from various cars. “‘The veriest coward would become an inspired hero, equal to the bravest, at such a time; Love would inspire him.” She leaned back. “Plato.” Her eyes were black holes, devoid of something vital. “That’s how Shiv makes me feel.” She beamed at him.

Logan gave the girl this: it had been a long time since someone threw him so off-balance. On the one hand, she was clearly either a budding young dyke infatuated with his daughter or wanted to be her or maybe both. In a way that heightened his pride in Shiv. She was already mastering the skill that can’t be taught, that rare power to bewitch. Probably unknowingly, considering how gauche this disciple was.

But on the other hand –

She quoted him fucking Plato. This fifteen, sixteen-year-old. As she recited, there was a grandeur to her stillness, a startling moment of dignity he never would have guessed she possessed. That both impressed and surprised him; two emotions he was always searching to feel from his children, and only Shiv ever delivered on.

But there was a gleam behind the frames, something that reminded him of – the coyote, maybe?

After locking up the cattle, he'd turned to two bright lights of mad emptiness staring through him out of the dark between him and the barn. No malice, but no mercy, either. The lights were consistent, unwavering.

Before either Logan or the animal could act, an explosion left it bloody at his feet. Noah emerged from the shadows outside the barn, his shotgun still smoking. Studying the wretch’s carcass, Logan could plainly see it was emaciated and missing patches of fur. That desperate, desperate gleam in its eyes before its death –

The encounter terrified Logan and settled somewhere cringing in his skull. He hadn’t felt that way really since, not that kind of immediate, feral fear.  Now that feeling returned, a brief whisper caressing the back of his neck, as this girl stared endlessly at him, unblinking, zeroed in.

An exasperated voice called out from the bleachers, several feet behind them. “Misty!” Coach Scott. “You didn’t get the last cones off the field!”

“Oh, I better go.” She stuck up an awkward hand in farewell. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Roy.”

“You as well.”

She scampered away.

Shiv slipped in beside him after final hugs and whoops with her teammates. She was covered in grass stains, reddish-blonde strands flying all over her bright red face. She looked as wild and joyful as she used to as a child, running into his office and announcing gleefully that she’d left her brothers stranded on the floating dock without a boat.

Here in the car, he squeezed her sweaty little hand. “Very good, Pinky.”

Wicked grin. She turned even redder, but for different reasons now. “Thanks. And thank you for staying the whole time.” The grin evolved to tread the tightrope walk between between cheeky and nasty. “Hope no stocks crashed or island governments revolted while you were away.”

Logan eyed her.  She grew more and more brazen with him as she passed from child to pre-pubescent, from pre-pubescent to adolescent. From adolescent to Yellowjacket. Typically he found her chiding charming, but lately she straddled the line a little too freely. Best to check it now. 

“Yes, well. It’s too bad you let that Matthews girl kick the winning goal. What happened out there? Why did you pass it to her?” Her prick of a father was sure to dangle it over his head the next time they met at some fundraiser or another.

Shiv scoffed. “Um, because she was closer to the goal? Y’know, teamwork, Dad?”

“Huh.” He sensed her squirm beside him at his disapproval, and he was glad. She needed to learn. “There’s a top dog on every team, Siobhan. Your mates are rivals just as much as the competition. Remember that and don’t be too generous.” He hoped that hit home. He knew she was already mad as hell that Martinez made Taylor’s girl captain instead of her. She’d stomped all around the house when she got home from school that day, muttering about how Jackie only got it because she was a “prissy little sycophant. She couldn't kick straight to save her vapid romcom life.” She’d referred to her as Julia Roberts ever since.

She needed to direct that contempt into a more useful channel.

Shiv stared out the window as the driver dodged a troupe of boys screaming “Buzz, buzz, buzz” at the top of their lungs, as they stumbled clown-car style down the crosswalk. At last the car turned left away from the school and into regular traffic.

“I met a little friend of yours. A most ardent fan.”

Shiv turned sharply, and he saw she knew who it was but hoped it wasn’t. “Yeah?”

“Yes, the equipment manager. Mindy something.” He raised his eyebrows. “Apparently you’re her best friend in the whole world.” His voice was sing-song soft, and he relished his daughter’s embarrassment.

Shiv groaned and leaned her head back over the headrest. “Misty….”

“Ah, yes, that’s it. Quite the little intellectual. She quoted Plato to me.”

“Of course she did.” Shiv sighed. “She’s been obsessed with me for over a year. I think she begged Coach Scott to be equipment manager just to be close to me. It’s such a pain in the ass.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, looking her over. So it was as he thought: this girl was a pest to Siobhan at best. But there was something else in Shiv’s eyes looking away from him. Something like a nervous guilt? That line in the middle of her forehead sometimes led to her going for that thumbnail. Somewhere there flashed a memory of yelling, yelling like a hound baying at a treed raccoon, when she told him she’d stranded her brothers. 

He tucked that away.

Shiv needed to learn.

“Maybe it’s wise not to be too dismissive, Pinky. People like that can prove very useful down the line.”

Shiv dashed her eyes up to his and then down again, and he couldn’t read her expression. 

They were quiet for the rest of the ride home.

He forgot about the fear he felt at those mad, empty coyote eyes shielded by glass frames. He forgot until the very moment between consciousness and sleep.

[ashwrites1234]

New Coach Pt.1

New Coach pt.1

A/n: so first off idk if this is gonna be the name but second of all this is from a lovely persons request I’m probably gonna turn this into a series 

Plot: there’s a new student coach and Alan Bosley (Remember the Titans ) falls for her and try’s to impress her and accidentally tells her that he is in love with her 

Coach Boone, Coach  Yoast, and Doc gathered all the boys on the team in the center of the field. “Listen up gentlemen!” Doc yelled as Boone came forward, while the boys stopped talking. “Alright now we are a public school correct? Don’t answer I already know we are, now we have a new coach SHE is going to be helping in defense offense and special teams understand?”. The boys all looked confused so Gerry spoke for them “ I’m sorry coach did you say girl?” Boone nodded “ that’s what I said Bertier “ Sheryl stepped up “ you got a problem with that boys?” She said crossing her arms. Y/N came up from behind the boys “yeah boys got a problem with it?” She said. The boys turned around their jaws dropped, her y/c hair was beautiful she was in general. 

Alan was frozen looking at her his face blushing. Y/N looked at Alan biting her lip and bit then stood up straight “alright boys for gawking At me you better get running and getting you’re gear on for practice or we are doing up and downs til sundown!” She yelled in her coach voice then blew he whistle and watched them all run by her. Doc looked at the other coach’s “I think she’s gonna fit in just fine”. Both Boone and Yoast agreed and walked towards Y/N “you feel like running you’re first practice” Boone said. “Ha! Oh coach I used to coach when I was in Texas of course I’m ready you guys are welcome to stay and watch “ she said then turned around hearing running footsteps “alright hustle boys right now or we will make it up and downs and running a mile” she said 

The boys ran quicker than they had before. Once in front  of Y/N and panted heavily out of breathe. Alan stood up straight and took off his helmet and threw up over to the side. “Woah there Bosley get water all of you then meet me over by the fence we are gonna warm up then get to work boys.” She was an amazing coach the next few days she was in control of practice. “hey Y/N!” Alan called after a practice. She turned around “Hey Alan I seen those runs and tackles today I’m proud of you”. Alan smiled a goofy smile “thanks.. hey Um would you wanna go out with me sometime?” “Ooooo so sorry I have a boyfriend “ Y/N said just kidding “what.. oh ok.. well since you don’t like me I just wanted to tell you that over the past few days I fell in love with you.. and I am not trying to steal you from you’re boyfriend I just had to get this off my chest..” Alan said sadly. Y/N softly smiled “I don’t  have a boyfriend silly and of course I would love to go out with you” she said then softly kissed him. Alan blushed but returned the kiss