#called assurance wireless

[lizordula]

Marg My Words

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Summary: A musical mishap on the car ride home gives Melissa an idea.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied sexual content

Word Count: ~2.1k

A/N: Inspired by the song One Margarita by That Chick Angel ^^

AO3 Link

Pt. 2

It's the end of the school week, a chilly yet sunny afternoon in the early Philadelphia spring. In the teacher's parking lot, you're surveying the bustling crowd of staff members and students filtering out of Abbott as you lean against the hood of your Fiat 500. When you spot your two favorite senior colleagues you perk up and wave to call attention to yourself. It doesn't take long before Melissa and Barbara notice and approach you hastily, both dying to clock into their weekend time after a long day of work. 

"Shall we?" Barb asks, shooting you a smile as she directly beelines for the passenger seat, much to Melissa's chagrin, who hasn't had any luck so far at calling dibs on the front seat.

You push yourself from the hood and pat Melissa's leather-clad arm in sympathy. "You can sit there next time," you assure her and remove your sunglasses to hook them in your neckline. You smirk when it takes Melissa a notable effort to tear her gaze away from your chest. 

"You say that every time," she retorts, rolling her eyes, but she slides into the middle of the back seat anyway.

Melissa, Barb, and you decided to start carpooling three weeks ago since you all live in the same part of Philly. The idea came from a plan Jacob had introduced to make Abbott more environmentally friendly, which was met with broad, nearly unanimous approval by the staff. You had to give it to him. Of the many ideas swirling around in his curly head, this one is actually decent. 

And you're not just saying that because that was the reason why you fell into Melissa Schemmenti's bed.

A few days into carpooling, Melissa invited you in for a nightcap to commemorate the success of A.V.A festival and the collected signatures for the petition against Legendary Charter Schools. It was just the two of you since Barb had been picked up by Gerald that day. Things led to another, and ever since, your carsharing arrangement turned into a carsharing arrangement with benefits, strictly for blowing off steam after work. 

Nobody knows so far, not even Barb, and you want to keep it that way.

After you've plopped down in the driver's seat and checked if everybody fastened their seatbelts, you start the car engine. Unfortunately, you forgot to turn off the Bluetooth on your phone after you listened to music on your wireless headphones in the teacher's lounge and don't notice how your phone instantly connects to your car speakers, continuing where you left off in your playlist. 

You freeze when the chorus of a very explicit song starts blaring through the car.

Give me one margarita, I'ma open my legs.

Your eyes widen in realization, and you whip around to Barb, watching her face drop as she processes the song's lyrics.

"Oh shit, uh...," you trail off and rip your phone from the charging cable, frantically typing in your phone's password. Your cheeks heat up in nervousness when it declines.

One time.

Give me two margaritas, I'ma give you some head.

Two times.

Give me three margaritas, I'ma put it in my puss.

Why the fuck isn't face recognition working?

Give me four margaritas, I'ma put it in my tush.

You anxiously glance at Barb, just in time to see her splutter indignantly at the last line and clutch her chest in horror. Meanwhile, in the backseat, Melissa cackles at your misfortune, holding her middle from laughing too hard.

"Oh god, this is gold," the redhead wheezes and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. Her face almost matches the color of her hair from the exertion. 

You scowl at her before nervously looking back to Barb, who is still listening to the song, staring straight ahead, frozen in speechless terror. After snapping out of your horrified state, you do what you should have done in the first place, had your brain thought of the obvious: turn down the volume control.

What follows is an uncomfortable silence. Barb is looking straight ahead, as are you, eyes wide with mortification, both of you dead set on avoiding eye contact. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves before clearing your throat.

"Sorry about that," you say with a strained, tight-lipped smile and make sure to flip the switch to the radio before turning the volume up again.

The rest of the car ride is quiet, save for the classic rock music playing in the background. Barb seems to have already gotten over the shock of your music taste as she is tapping her fingers on her thigh and bobbing her head to some song by Elton John. You, however, are still very much embarrassed by what happened.

It doesn't help that Melissa is making heart eyes at you through the rearview mirror. 

Her mind undoubtedly went straight to the gutter. Whenever you lock eyes with her, she has a suggestive smirk painted on her face, secretly taunting you for your song choice. Your gaze frequently darts to her spread legs, and you can tell she notices by the way she subtly increases the angle each time. You glare at her in warning, not wanting to engage in any flirting while Barb is still in the car with you, but Melissa only raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Determined to avoid further embarrassment, you grip the wheel harder, your knuckles slowly turning white, and try to focus on the road. Fortunately, it doesn't take long before you arrive at Barb's house. You park on the side of the curb and switch off the ignition, turning to the kindergarten teacher with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry again for earlier."

"Mh-hm," Barb hums gruffly, but you can tell from the way her lips curl upward that she sees the situation in good humor. "Have a nice weekend," she sing-songs, swinging the door shut. You wave after her with a smile and click the doors shut before Melissa can switch to the passenger seat.

"No front seat privileges for you," you quip and start the engine again, smirking when Melissa rattles the door handle with a dramatic groan.

"You brought that upon yourself," she grumbles and sinks back further in her seat with crossed arms. You smile when you look at her through the rearview mirror and see the endearing pout on her face. The passenger seat is your only leverage against her, and you will exert it whenever you can, especially since she rarely lets you be in charge elsewhere.

Five minutes later, you pull into Melissa's driveway. You unlock the doors and lower your window, watching the redhead round the car and stop at the driver's side. Your eyes flicker to her cleavage when she leans down to rest her arms on the window ledge.

"I think I have everything for a Margharita inside," Melissa tells you in a husky voice and nods toward her house. Your eyes darken at the implication, and you give Melissa a slow once-over, letting your gaze intentionally linger on her lips, before you give her an answer.  

"Alright, Schemmenti, lead the way," you drawl and turn off your engine to follow her inside.

As soon as the door is closed, Melissa pushes you up against it. She wastes no time sliding the lapel of your jeans jacket to the side to kiss the junction between your throat and your neck, working her way up to your lips. You hum and close your eyes at the sensation but escape her grasp before she can claim your lips.

She wouldn't get you to bed this easy after that little stunt in the car.

"You promised me margaritas," you respond matter-of-factly as you push past a stunned Melissa. You walk into her kitchen with a self-satisfied smirk, and she trails right behind you, her eyes twinkling in a sly way that tells you that the game is on.

Melissa saunters past you to her liquor cabinet, resting her tongue on the tip of her canine as she sizes you up, and pulls out a bottle of Tequila. Then, she retrieves some lime juice and triple prosecco from the fridge, placing everything in a neat line on the kitchen island next to two glasses. You watch as she pours the drinks in a practiced and elegant manner, captivated by the movements of her hands, before she hands you one of the glasses.

You clink your glasses and take a sip from your drinks. Melissa observes your reaction with rapt attention, awaiting your verdict on her mixology skills. Her pupils dilate when you don't set your glass down and down the whole drink without breaking eye contact. You place the glass back on the counter and lick your lips in contemplation.

"Hm, not bad, but...," you trail off, pleased by the way Melissa's eyes darken at the perceived criticism, "there was no salt rim. Unfortunately, I have to deduct points for presentation."

Melissa eyes you up and down, calculating her next move as she empties her own drink. You suppress the shiver creeping up your spine when you see the wicked glint in her eyes, familiar from whenever you would rile her up or be bratty on purpose.

You are so done for.

Melissa walks to another cabinet and fetches the salt, putting it on the counter before you. She pours you another drink and comes to a halt next to you, pressing the margarita into your hand. You watch intently as she shrugs off her leather jacket and leans back against the counter, inadvertently pushing her chest out.

"Well, help yourself."

Your mouth falls open slightly when you realize what Melissa wants you to do, your face heating up to an unbearable degree. You inch closer until your hips press against hers and grab the salt from the counter. Skipping over her lips entirely, you bow down to her neck and attach your lips to the soft skin there, sucking hard. You smirk against Melissa's skin when you hear her breathing falter and lick a broad stripe over the dip above her collarbone.

When you draw back, Melissa's pupils are completely blown, the green of her irises almost entirely consumed by black. Melissa tries to follow you, but you push her back with your pointer finger, your gaze dropping to her heaving chest when she settles back against the counter. You sprinkle some salt onto the hollow of her throat and take the margarita, taking a sip before descending to Melissa's throat once more.

Melissa throws her head back and moans lowly when your tongue connects with her throat again and starts to lap up all the salt from her skin. You slowly inch your way toward her jaw, making sure to leave marks along the way, and claim her lips with your own at last. Not a second later, Melissa's hands grab your hips to swivel you around, making you gasp into the kiss as your back hits the kitchen island. 

You should have known that Melissa would only let you be in charge that long. But you don't complain when she starts unbuckling your pants and pulls them down to your ankles before hoisting you up on the kitchen island. The last thing you see before you throw your head back is her smirk as she descends between your spread legs.

It seems you proved the song right.

━━━

When you recover from your orgasm, Melissa lazily kisses her way up to your throat and lays her head on your chest. "Maybe this convinces you to let me sit in the passenger seat the next time," she mumbles against your skin and places a soft kiss on the swell of your breast. You absentmindedly play with her hair while you catch your breath.

"After today, I'm not sure I could behave. Besides," you say, lifting Melissa's chin with your pointer finger so she locks eyes with you again, "I have a much better seat for you."

Melissa snorts when you quirk your eyebrow suggestively and detangles from your grasp. She holds out a hand to assist you down from the kitchen island, and you slide straight into her arms, taking your time to kiss her sweetly and languidly before you pull away.

"I mean my face," you hurriedly add, although no clarification was necessary. Melissa chuckles in reply and starts tugging you toward her bedroom.

"Yeah, I figured."

[cetaitlaverite]

Call It What You Want

or: The Three Times They Lied to Each Other and the One Time They Told the Truth

Masters of the Air - John Brady x OC

informal part 2 to this short fic but can be read as a standalone. also features characters from my multi-chapter rosie x oc fic 'why all this music?' but, again, this can be read on its own. by popular demand, here is 6k words of millie and brady's clownery. you asked and i delivered (i hope). they're iconic your honour and sooo much fun to write. hope you loooooove <3

It took Millie several moments to calm her raging blush when she first caught sight of John Brady waiting for her outside the tower. It was impossible to look at him and not remember the way they’d kissed last night. She wanted to blame it on the darkness they’d been blanketed in when he’d first done it, wanted to blame it on the alcohol she’d consumed. But in the light of day as she watched him wander in idle circles in the grass, his hands in his pockets and his eyes squinted into the sunshine, she knew she’d be lying to herself to blame everything which had transpired between them on anything other than passion. Fiery hatred or fiery desire, it didn’t matter; both of them were impossible to ignore.

When her cheeks cooled down and she’d assumed some semblance of composure, Millie resumed her walk to work. Really, she lectured herself, he might not even be waiting for her. She wasn’t the only wireless operator who worked in the tower, let alone the only person who worked in there - he could have been waiting for anyone, one of his superiors included. But when she got close to the door he turned, as though sensing her, and straightened his posture. The way he was looking at her told her she’d been right; he was there for her.

“Harlow,” he greeted coolly.

“Brady,” she replied. “You’re not even flying today and yet you’re still here to lecture me on my skills as a wireless op. That’s true dedication, Brady, really, but I can assure you you’re the only pilot on this base who takes any issue with the way I do my job.”

Brady’s lips turned down in a sour approximation of a smile but he didn’t retort, as she might have expected. Instead, he said quietly, “About last night -”

Hearing him acknowledge it while the sun was high in the sky, while she was looking directly into his eyes and watching his lips move, while no single part of him was concealed by darkness and no single part of her was, either, was too much. Millie felt her stomach flip and her hands start to sweat. She hurried to cut across him, “Nothing happened last night.”

Brady raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh? So I must’ve dreamed that we kissed.”

“I’m sure it’s a dream you have often,” Millie replied. “Not to worry, you wouldn’t be the only one.”

He rolled his eyes. “We kissed, Harlow, and you know it.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. But, regardless, when he opened his mouth to reply she took him by the elbow and towed him behind her around the back of the tower, away from prying eyes and ears who may have been curious to know what the two of them were arguing about this time.

“So -” Brady began when they were alone.

Again, Millie cut him off. “We didn’t kiss.”

Brady scoffed. “We did. Twice, in fact.”

“Why would I ever kiss you?” Millie demanded, squeezing her hands into fists and tucking them behind her back. “I don’t even like you.”

Brady was smirking even as he rolled his eyes at her. “You don’t need to be so defensive about it. I was just coming here to say it’s never gonna happen again. So, you know, don’t get your hopes up or anything.”

He was so self-righteous, convincing himself he was letting her down gently. He’d come here thinking he was rejecting her?

“Don’t get my hopes up?” Millie echoed with a scoff. “How typical of you, to convince yourself that you’ve got the upper hand. What, did you fancy that I’ve been twirling my hair and kicking my feet, waiting for you to come ask me to marry you?”

Brady shrugged. “Something like that.”

“You’re a real arsehole.”

“But am I wrong?”

“Yes!” Millie cried. “If you remember correctly, you kissed me!”

“You kissed me after!” Brady exclaimed right back at her.

“A major lapse in judgement!” she defended herself.

“On my part as well,” Brady hissed.

Millie scoffed. “You grabbed my arm and took me away from the club -”

“To talk -”

“We could’ve done that outside the club! We didn’t need to be in some alley to argue, we do it everyday!”

“Maybe I didn’t want everyone overhearing!”

“Everyone’s overheard us a million times before,” Millie pointed out. Now her eyebrows were raised with palpable suspicion. “Why did you only decide it mattered last night? Hm? And only after you interrupted my dance with Benny?”

Brady stared her down. He had no answer for her. Millie could tell by the twisting of his lips and the way his fingers were twitching in his pockets, straining against the fabric of his trousers like he was pressing down on the keys of his saxophone, that he was fighting for a viable explanation.

Her eyes were dancing. Her smile was smug. “Because you wanted to kiss me,” she deduced. “Admit it. There’s no shame in it, Brady, you’d hardly be the first man who’s wanted to.”

“You’re so goddamn arrogant,” he snarled. “You’re the last woman on this base I’d want to kiss, Harlow. The very last.”

“Yes, because the ladies are just lining up for you, Brady, you miserable -”

“I don’t see anyone else tripping over themselves to fall at your feet,” Brady cut her off.

Millie raised her eyebrows. “Yes, you do.”

“So why don’t you go for them? Why do you spend all your time in the club staring at me?” Now Brady was smug, removing his hands from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest.

Millie scowled. “I do not stare at you.”

“You do.”

“Only if I feel you glaring at me.”

“I only glare at you when I feel you staring.”

“Chicken and egg,” Millie replied. “It’s beside the point. The point is, you took me to that alley last night because you wanted to kiss me.” Her eyes were penetrating, fiery, as they bore into his. “Admit it,” she said slowly, savouring the taste of the words.

“No,” Brady said lowly. “I didn’t want to kiss you, Harlow. In your dreams.”

“You didn’t want to,” Millie repeated, “and yet you did. You did kiss me. And you wanted to. Admit it.”

“No.”

“Admit it.”

“No.”

Millie took a step closer to him, craning her neck back to maintain the hold she had on his eyes. Her smirk was small and yet it was there, playing at the corners of her lips. Her gaze, she knew, was sultry. She’d perfected it a while ago.

Close enough that they could hold a sheet of paper aloft between them, Millie lowered her voice to only barely above a whisper. She gazed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Admit it, John.”

She could only admit to herself that she’d wanted him to kiss her when he did, when he had her pressed up against the wall of the tower, one hand cupping her cheek and the other on her hip, tugging it towards him. Just like last night, his lips were fast and feverish, desperate against her own, like he was worried this would be the last time he’d ever get to touch her like this.

She couldn’t find it within herself to resent herself for kissing back. Just like last night, it was addictive. She’d never been kissed like this, never kissed anyone like this either. Kissing was something entirely other when it was done with John Brady.

His hands kept to modest areas but the heat they trailed may as well have been against her bare skin. As his hand slid up from her hip, past her waist and over her shoulder, up to the back of her neck beneath her hair, as his other hand slid down from her cheek and drew across to the centre of her back, encouraging her to arch up off the wall into him, the hold he had on her felt more intimate than anything she’d ever done with any other man.

It was just kissing.

Why did it feel like so much more?

When they drew apart briefly, so briefly, for breath, it was just enough time for Millie to gasp, “So you did want to kiss me!”

It was also just enough time for Brady to reply, “Shut up,” right before he caught her lips in another searing kiss, slower than the last and somehow more intense because of it.

Millie wanted to take advantage of their closeness and put her hands all over him the way he was doing to her, but she could not for the life of her seem to get her hands out of his hair. It was exactly as soft as she’d imagined - maybe even softer - and the way he groaned lowly into her mouth when she tugged on it just a little bit too hard was more intoxicating than any alcohol she’d ever consumed.

She knew she was making a mess of him. Knew that he’d have to go all the way back to his hut to redo his hair in the bathroom, return the strands to their rightful positions meticulously like he did every morning - as she imagined, at least. And it brought her joy to imagine him having to hurry back there to do it, lest he get caught and anyone ask why he looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge. He’d have an excellent time trying to explain this, she was sure; the way his tongue was licking hotly into her mouth, the way his hands were dragging reverently over her curves, the way he was pressing his body into hers - all of it would be a tough thing to explain to anyone without blushing.

The foggy haze smothering Millie’s critical thinking cleared only when she heard Freddie’s voice, presumably talking to Jem as the two of them walked to the tower. They’d been taking forever to get ready this morning so Millie had left ahead of them; they would know that something was off if Millie was later than them into work.

Carefully, this time, and with significantly less force, Millie placed her hands on John’s chest and pushed him back. When he started to speak she covered his mouth, narrowing her eyes to make him remain silent, and the two of them listened to Freddie and Jem talking about breakfast before they disappeared into the tower, their voices fading away.

Millie kept her hand over John’s mouth for a few more beats, just to be safe, before finally letting it fall away and sighing. Leaning back against the tower once more, her breaths came heavy, her chest heaving. Still, she found resolve enough within herself to murmur, “Tell no one,” and with that pushed herself upright, skirting around the side of the building and heading into work. She would tell Freddie and Jem she’d been in the bathroom, she decided. There was no reason for them to suspect a thing.

*

If anyone asked Millie why she was taking so long getting ready tonight, she’d have no real excuse. They all went to the officers’ club often and, yes, they put effort into their appearances, setting their hair nicely and straightening their uniforms and freshening up their makeup after the workday, but no one went to this length. Millie had taken a shower and brushed her teeth and redone her hair and makeup entirely, had put on a fresh pair of tights and the pair of fancy earrings her parents had gotten her for Christmas which she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to wear. She repainted her nails and put on hand cream, plucked her eyebrows and shaved her upper lip.

If anyone asked, she would have to lie.

“Someone you’re trying to impress, Mils?” Jem asked when Millie finally emerged from the bathroom. It was only she and Freddie left in the bedroom of their hut, sitting on their respective beds with their shoes on and their eyes bored, as though they’d been ready and waiting for a while.

“Got all sweaty today,” Millie explained, trying to be casual about it. “Tried to keep my face away from the shower water but when I washed my hair it ruined my makeup so I had to start again.”

“Are you wearing new earrings?” Freddie inquired curiously.

Millie felt herself blushing. She prayed she’d put on enough makeup to hide it. “Got them for Christmas,” she confirmed. “Mum wrote me in her last letter asking if I’d worn them yet and I lied and said yes, so I thought I should probably put them on.”

Freddie smiled, accepting this readily, innocent little flower as she was. “They’re pretty,” she offered. “They make your eyes strikingly green.”

Millie smiled back at her. “Thanks, Fred. And you’re gorgeous as always. You too, Jem.”

“A compliment from Millie Harlow?” Jem gasped in mock shock. “What’s the matter, Mils, you got an upset tummy? Are we all set to be smelling the contents of your stomach when we go to bed tonight?”

Freddie scoffed. “Jem, that is vile.”

Millie just rolled her eyes. “D’you want that drink I owe you tonight, Jem, or do you want me to conveniently forget that it’s my round?”

Jem clamped her mouth shut immediately. “I want that drink,” she said as she rose from her bed.

Millie smiled smugly. “Yes,” she said, “that’s what I thought.”

Millie didn’t speak during the walk to the officers’ club. Her mind was filled with thoughts of one man, of his stupid smirk and his stupid soft hair and his stupid saxophone, which he was no doubt set to spend half the night married to. She tried to imagine what he might say to her, how he might look at her, whether he might try to get her alone. Did she even want him to get her alone? Did she even want to talk to him?

All too suddenly, Jem was pushing into the club and holding the door for Freddie and Millie behind her, then leading them to the bar.

“I’ll have a pint, thanks, Mils,” Jem declared, draping herself over the only available space at the bar with a twinkle in her eye.

Millie rolled her eyes. “I know what you’ll have, you little ponce, because you have the same thing every night.”

“Lemonade, please, Mils,” Freddie added.

Millie scoffed. “No, Fred. Wine or nothing.”

“What is your problem with me and my lemonade?!” Freddie complained, pouting.

Millie simply laughed, leaning past Jem when Atley the barman approached to take their order.

They’d gotten to the club too late tonight to secure themselves a table, so, once they all had their drinks, the three of them found an empty patch of wall to lean against and surveyed the room and its occupants.

Millie kept her eyes carefully diverted from the band just in case Brady was looking at her. She didn’t want to seem eager.

“Your makeup looks nice tonight, Mils,” Freddie spoke into the brief quiet which had fallen. “Did you get a new lipstick?”

“Borrowed Jem’s,” Millie replied easily, taking a sip from her beer.

Beside her, Jem sputtered. “Disgusting.”

“We’re all friends here,” Millie dismissed her.

“It suits you,” Freddie said. “A paler shade of red, no?”

Millie smiled at her sidelong. “I think so. Thanks, Fred.”

Freddie hummed her acceptance of this thanks.

Millie couldn’t take it any longer. Her eyes sought Brady of their own accord, as though they were being pulled there by magnets, and she met his gaze instantly. She had no idea how long he’d been watching her but she liked to think it was a while.

As such, she refused to be the one to break eye contact. She raised her eyebrows at him, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips, before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a slow sip.

Even from all the way over here she could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

Her smile was sweet when she lowered her glass.

Brady looked away, turning back to his sheet music.

If Millie didn’t know better, she would have thought she could spy a pale blush in his cheeks.

Millie kept an eye on Brady the entire time the band was playing, trying to force herself to find his saxophone playing unattractive and failing miserably. She only half-listened to the conversation going on around her, mumbling yeses and nos when asked any questions, smiling and laughing when she thought it was appropriate. When some of the other airmen joined them briefly she greeted them warmly but couldn’t help the glances she shot over their shoulders at their fellow pilot where he was playing with the band.

No one noticed, she thought. That was, until she caught Benny DeMarco smirking.

“Something catch your eye, Mils?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet enough that no one else acknowledged their private conversation.

Millie was starkly conscious of the burning in her cheeks. “What?”

Benny shrugged but there was an amused smile playing at his lips. “You just seem awfully interested in the band tonight. ‘S all.”

“I’m not,” Millie replied hastily. “I just - Brady, he - he’s -”

“Staring?” Benny finished for her.

“Yes.” She tipped her chin up defiantly.

“That makes two of you,” Benny observed.

Millie took a long sip of her beer to buy herself time - so long, in fact, that she ended up finishing it. When her glass was empty and she had nothing else to distract herself with, she finally replied, “If you’re trying to imply something, Benny, why don’t you just come right out and say it?”

Infuriatingly, Benny laughed. “Something you want me to say, Mils?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Yeah,” Benny said easily. “Funny. Neither was he.”

To anyone else, the timing would have been coincidental. Well, to anyone except Benny. But, secretly, Millie knew exactly what she was doing when she declared she was getting another drink about halfway through the last of the band’s songs.

She was still waiting to order when she felt someone come up on her other side at the bar. “Harlow,” he said.

“Brady,” she replied without turning to look at him.

He laughed. “You spend the whole night staring at me from across the room but won’t even look at me when I’m right beside you?”

“How would you know what I’ve been doing all night,” Millie replied, “unless you’ve been staring back?”

He scoffed but left that line of debate alone.

“Not dancing with any of your thousands of suitors?” he ventured instead.

Millie smiled to herself, tracking Atley as he moved around the bar, preparing drinks for other patrons. “Jealous, are we?”

Brady scoffed lowly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Still smiling, Millie shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter much to me.”

“I think it would.”

“Think what you like, Brady.”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked suddenly.

Millie’s eyes shot to his. She blinked at him. “You mean, with you?”

“No,” Brady drawled, “with Meatball.” He rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, with me.”

Millie fought to keep her voice level. “Why would I want to dance with you?”

Brady didn’t take the bait. “I don’t know, Harlow,” he replied simply, staring at her hard, his gaze smouldering, “why would you want to dance with me?”

Swallowing hard, Millie searched his face for a sign he was making fun of her but she came up empty. For once, he looked entirely in earnest. And the longer she took to answer, the more he started to fidget. He was uncertain, she realised. Nervous, maybe.

He thought she was going to say no.

“One dance,” Millie decided, putting both of them out of their misery. “And if you step on my toes you’re dead.”

“Worry about yourself, Harlow,” Brady replied easily, offering his palm to her. “I’ve seen you dance, you’re no Rita Hayworth.”

“And yet, you still want to dance with me,” Millie teased, laying her hand in his. Instantly, he curled his fingers around hers.

“Charity work,” Brady said as he started to lead her to the dance floor.

Millie rolled her eyes.

The two of them had never danced together. The first time they’d even touched had been last night, and they’d been completely alone. With everyone around, in the midst of a sea of couples, it should have felt awkward, uncomfortable, clunky, trying to figure out how they fit together as dance partners. But it didn’t. They slotted together as naturally and as easily as puzzle pieces, the wrong ones forcibly attached for so long that the right ones clicked instantly.

The song was slow. For better or for worse, that gave them time to talk.

Millie could not, for the life of her, keep her eyes off his lips.

“What were you and Benny talking about?” Brady asked when they started to sway together.

Millie let out an amused huff of breath. “None of your business.”

“Did he ask you to dance?”

“No.” He was asking me about you.

“Something about you looks different.”

Better? “New lipstick.”

“Right.”

“I borrowed it from Jem.” Silly thing to say. Why would he care?

“It’s - uh -” He cleared his throat.

Millie’s eyes drew up his face until she could meet his gaze. “It’s what?”

“Nothing,” he decided.

Millie nodded. His gaze was intense. “So you hate it,” she said.

He shook his head. The hold he had on the small of her back tightened slightly. “I don’t hate it,” he assured her softly.

If they had been alone, the both of them knew they would have been kissing by now. How quickly they’d fallen into a routine. This time yesterday they’d only ever dreamed about it, and only late, late at night when it was impossible to hide anything from yourself. Now it was something of a habit, unavoidable when they were in each other’s presence.

It was all either of them could think about.

 “I, uh,” Brady began. He tilted his head down closer to hers, speaking so softly his voice felt like feathers. “I’m flying again tomorrow.”

Millie nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible movement of her head. “I know,” she replied. “I work here.”

“Right.” He smiled and breathed a laugh.

Millie smiled right back at him.

“Good luck,” she offered quietly. “On your mission.”

“Thanks.” He nodded. He was staring so deeply into her eyes she felt like she was under a microscope. “I might - uh - I might get you on the radio.”

Millie laughed softly at this. “Only if you’re unlucky.”

He didn’t laugh with her, only kept on gazing deep into her eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed after a moment, when the joke had already passed.

It was impossible not to kiss him when he was looking at her like this, so Millie looked away. She set her eyes over his shoulder at the group of friends she’d left behind, watched as Jem joked with Benny and Freddie played with Meatball, as Dougie leaned lazily against the wall and Hambone came ambling over.

Millie and John were quiet for the rest of the song. Neither of them noticed, but they curled into each other more and more as time wore on, like a pair of mourning doves.

When the song ended and the next was ready to start, they untangled themselves from each other. They gave each other a nod, all formality as they tried to think up something, anything, to say, and parted ways without saying a word. They had only agreed on one dance, after all.

*

“Harlow,” Brady said as he came up behind her. “Can we talk?”

Silently, Millie sighed. She didn’t turn to look at him. “About what?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re talking,” he said. “In private.”

Millie knew exactly what that meant. They’d done this enough times by now to establish a pattern.

“I’m not in the mood to talk in private with you right now, Brady,” she said quickly, coolly. Freddie was having nightmares again - she hadn’t had nightmares since she’d first transferred to Thorpe Abbotts - so Millie had been up half the night trying to soothe her back to sleep. And Jem wasn’t very well - she’d gone home for the weekend and come back with food poisoning. Not to mention the fact that all this sneaking around was starting to make Millie anxious. She and Freddie and Jem didn’t keep secrets from each other, it wasn’t how they operated. It had taken a lot of courage for Freddie to tell them about Daniel, to open herself up to reliving the trauma of losing her soulmate if just so that Millie and Jem could know her entirely and understand her entirely, too. It felt wrong, after that, to hide this from them - from Freddie especially. She’d never had a friend like Freddie. It wasn’t right that she comforted Freddie about nightmares about her lost love, listened to her recount the gory details of his death and how she’d found out while she assured her everything was going to be okay, all the while sneaking around behind her back with a pilot of her own.

It felt wrong. Dirty. Millie wasn’t sure how she’d even gotten herself into this situation in the first place.

Brady wasn’t so easily dismissed. “What’s wrong?” he asked, falling into step beside her. When she didn’t spare him a glance he hissed out a sigh between his teeth and took a gentle hold of her elbow, tugging her behind him into the alley between buildings. Just like that very first time. The way it had all begun.

“Is this going to keep happening between us?” Millie demanded before Brady could get a word out. “You ask me to talk, in private, we fight, we kiss, and then we pretend to hate each other again. Is this the way it’s always going to be?”

Brady looked bewildered, like she’d just thrown a bucket of ice water in his face. He blinked at her for a few moments, his mouth half-open as he processed her words, and then he clamped it closed and said, “I’m only following your lead, Mils. You don’t exactly go out of your way to give me the time of day when we’re with everyone else.”

Millie rolled her eyes and turned away from him, staring at the patch of sky visible between the edges of the two buildings. “I won’t let you make me into an idiot, John,” she told him firmly. “Men have messed me around before and I won’t let it happen again.”

“Then what do you want from me, Mils?” John demanded. He reached for her hands but she wouldn’t let him take them. “You’re so goddamn difficult to read,” he said. “One second I think you like me, the next I think you’re about to knock my head off my shoulders. One second you act like you wanna dance with me, the next you’re dancing with Benny.” He shook his head with a low scoff. “You want me to show up at your door with roses when you won’t even make it clear to me what you want?”

Millie ground her teeth together and crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn’t think, for a moment, how on earth she wanted to reply. She could be vulnerable or she could be venomous, could pour her heart out to him or make him out to be delusional. She didn’t know which was wiser.

“I hate roses,” she said after a beat. “They’re cliché. And prickly. Any man who gets me roses is a man who doesn’t really know me - or really like me, more to the point.”

John didn’t say anything.

Millie’s heart was pounding in her ears as she ventured, “A man who was really after my heart would know to buy lilies.”

John was quiet for a moment. And then: “Lilies?”

“Orange lilies,” Millie confirmed softly. “They’re my favourite.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she felt the change in the air around him when his posture loosened and he started to smile. “Of course they are,” he said.

Finally, she turned back to him, but only to narrow her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s so like you,” he said, grinning. “Red roses are everywhere. I can’t remember the last time I saw an orange lily.”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking,” Millie said.

John was still grinning, shaking his head and laughing under his breath. “Do you know how long it’d take a guy to find you orange lilies?”

“If he really liked me, he wouldn’t mind, would he?” Millie fired back, tilting her chin up defiantly. “One day I’ll meet a man who would welcome the challenge because he just wants to make me happy. Don’t concern yourself about it, I’ll find him.”

His smile became strained, hard. “I’m not concerned about it,” he informed her evenly.

“I know you’re not,” she replied. “You’re content to kiss me in dark alleyways like some sort of -”

“Why do you always insist on arguing?!” Brady demanded, cutting her off. “Just when we’re making progress! You shut me out at every available opportunity, send me mixed signals and then complain that I’m not dropping to the ground and shoving an engagement ring in your face!”

“I wouldn’t want you to shove an engagement ring in my face, Brady,” Millie hissed, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “Forget I ever even said anything. I’d be embarrassed if anyone found out I’ve been entertaining your little charade.” She was being spiteful and she knew it but she was embarrassed, so embarrassed, that he was calling her out on her vulnerability. She’d tried to hide it, tried to be casual, but he could see right through her - of course he could! He always did. And now he was making fun of her for wanting more from him than whatever casual arrangement they’d fallen into. It was clear to her now that she’d misread him, had taken for granted that good Catholic boys only ever behaved as such when in reality they only behaved that way with women they were serious about.

Brady’s smile was bitter and full of disbelief. “Mils, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” she snapped. “You won, Brady. You made me into an idiot. Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t make you into anything,” Brady disagreed. “All I’ve ever done is try to be nice to you -”

“Oh, is that what all this was? You were just being nice? Taking pity on me? God forbid you ever actually listen to a word I say, Brady, but for the last time, you are not the only man who has ever shown an interest in me, hard as that may be for you to believe! Your charity work is over. Congratulations, you passed with flying colours.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?!” Brady demanded as she started to storm away from him. His footsteps were loud and echoing as he followed after her.

“Just leave me alone, Brady, for god’s sake,” Millie said over her shoulder. “Go back to ATA-Alice or literally anyone else, I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

Brady slowed to a stop, watching in utter bewilderment as Millie turned the corner and stomped off elsewhere. He really and truly had no idea what had just happened. But did he ever, really, with her? She was as infuriating as she was fascinating. He couldn’t stay away from her if he tried, and he had no interest in trying.

*

There was a rose waiting for her on her desk on Monday morning. A single red rose, all by itself, and Millie wasn’t sure whether to smile or scowl.

“Idiot,” she muttered, and the smile won out.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, Mils,” Freddie remarked as she took a seat at her own desk. “Did they leave a note?”

“No,” Millie said, still staring down at the rose. Tentatively, she reached out and picked it up, bringing it to her nose to smell.

“Who’s buying you roses?” Jem asked as she took her seat on Millie’s other side.

Millie smiled to herself as she set the rose back down and sat down in her desk chair. “No idea.”

Work that day could not have dragged on any longer. Millie felt like she was being suffocated by the many, many hours which stretched out before her. But, eventually, all the ATA pilots and all of the outgoing planes returned - those which were ever going to return, that was - and she was dismissed.

The other girls went straight to dinner.

Millie knew where she’d find the mastermind behind the stupid rose.

“Save me a seat!” she called over her shoulder to Freddie, Jem, and the rest of the wireless ops. “I’ll only be a minute!” She’d deliberately spilt water on her blouse right before the end of the workday to give herself an excuse to head back to the nissen huts. She wasn’t sure whether she’d really only be a minute. She didn’t think so.

True to prediction, John Brady was dawdling in the grass outside her hut when she approached. He didn’t see her just yet, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted back as he squinted into the sunlight, but she stopped a few metres away so she could really look at him.

He had no business being as handsome as he was. All boyish smiles and innocent blue eyes, biting wit and soft, fluffy hair. How was she ever supposed to come up against him in any significant way when he looked the way he did, said the things he did, acted the way he did? She’d been powerless from the start.

“You,” she called as she finally set her legs back into motion, “are such an arse, John Brady! Even when you’re nice you’re an arse!”

John was grinning when he turned to her. He shrugged. “A little birdie told me you like roses.”

Millie rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove when she came to a stop before him. “Shut up,” she said.

She kissed him, then, and couldn’t have given any logical reason for why other than she wanted to. She really, really wanted to.

He certainly wasn’t hurrying to make any complaints.

They wrapped themselves up in each other immediately, instinctively, like this was where they belonged and every second they spent apart was a second the world was off kilter. Anyone might have walked by for any reason and yet neither of them paid the outside world any mind. All of their attention, focus, thoughts were solely on each other.

When they pulled apart they were breathless, so close their chests pressed together as they breathed.

John was smirking. Because of course he was.

“If I knew I was gonna get a kiss anyway,” he said, all cocky and pleased with himself, “I wouldn’t have run around the whole of East Anglia trying to find these.”

He stepped away and Millie reached for him. His smile was soft as he took hold of both of her hands and pressed gentle kisses to the backs of both of them. Then he disappeared behind the door of her hut and emerged a moment later, still smiling, with a bouquet of orange lilies in one hand.

Millie’s smile ached in her cheeks. “You didn’t,” she said.

John shrugged. “I like to think I have my moments.”

“Where did you find them?” she demanded, accepting them from him and cradling them to her chest like a puppy.

John was grinning as he watched her. “Some East Anglian town. I couldn’t pronounce the name even if I remembered it.” He breathed a laugh. “But I thought they might make you happy, so they were worth the trip.” You were worth the trip. Worth an entire weekend pass spent looking for one bouquet of flowers.

Millie was still smiling wildly as she stepped back towards him, still cradling her flowers close to her chest. “Did they take you long to find?”

“A little.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”

Her smile turned sheepish. “I feel like I need to make a confession.”

John’s heart dropped. “Oh.” She had a boyfriend. Or she had a husband. Or she didn’t even like him in that way. Or the flowers were fakes. Or -

“I actually love roses.”

His jaw fell open.

Millie was grinning. “Oops?”

“Millie Harlow,” John said, fastening his hands on her hips and tugging her to him, shaking his head with a wide smile on his lips, “you are such a pain in my ass.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. She transferred her bouquet into one hand so she could wrap her arms around him, then smiled as she pushed up onto her tiptoes and nudged their noses together. “The feeling’s mutual.”

[beardedmrbean]

WASHINGTON (AP) — Racist text messages invoking slavery raised alarm across the country this week after they were sent to Black men, women and students, including middle schoolers, prompting inquiries by the FBI and other agencies.

The messages, sent anonymously, were reported in several states, including New York, Alabama, California, Ohio, Pennsylvania and Tennessee. They generally used a similar tone but varied in wording.

Some instructed the recipient to show up at an address at a particular time “with your belongings,” while others didn't include a location. Some of them mentioned the incoming presidential administration.

It wasn't yet clear who was behind the messages and there was no comprehensive list of where they were sent, but high school and college students were among the recipients.

The FBI said it was in touch with the Justice Department on the messages, and the Federal Communications Commission said it was investigating the texts “alongside federal and state law enforcement.” The Ohio Attorney General's office also said it was looking into the matter.

Tasha Dunham of Lodi, California, said her 16-year-old daughter showed her one of the messages Wednesday evening before her basketball practice.

The text not only used her daughter's name, but it directed her to report to a “plantation” in North Carolina, where Dunham said they’ve never lived. When they looked up the address, it was the location of a museum.

“It was very disturbing,” Dunham said. “Everybody’s just trying to figure out what does this all mean for me? So, I definitely had a lot of fear and concern.”

Her daughter initially thought it was a prank, but emotions are high following Tuesday’s presidential election. Dunham and her family thought it could be more nefarious and reported it to local law enforcement.

“I wasn’t in slavery. My mother wasn't in slavery. But we’re a couple of generations away. So, when you think about how brutal and awful slavery was for our people, it’s awful and concerning,” Dunham said.

About six middle school students in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, received the messages too, said Megan Shafer, acting superintendent of the Lower Merion School District.

“The racist nature of these text messages is extremely disturbing, made even more so by the fact that children have been targeted,” she wrote in a letter to parents.

Students at some major universities, including Clemson in South Carolina and the University of Alabama, said they received the messages. The Clemson Police Department said in a statement that it had been notified of the “deplorable racially motivated text and email messages” and encouraged anyone who received one to report it.

Fisk University, a historically Black university in Nashville, Tennessee, issued a statement calling the messages that targeted some of its students “deeply unsettling.” It urged calm and assured students that the texts likely were from bots or malicious actors with “no real intentions or credibility.”

Missouri NAACP President Nimrod Chapel said Black students who are members of the organization's Missouri State University chapter received texts citing Trump’s win and calling them out by name as being “selected to pick cotton” next Tuesday. Chapel said police in the southeastern Missouri city of Springfield, home of the university, have been notified.

“It points to a well-organized and resourced group that has decided to target Americans on our home soil based on the color of our skin,” Chapel said in a statement.

Nick Ludlum, a senior vice president for the wireless industry trade group CTIA, said: “Wireless providers are aware of these threatening spam messages and are aggressively working to block them and the numbers that they are coming from.”

David Brody, director of the Digital Justice Initiative at The Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law, said that they aren’t sure who is behind the messages but estimated they had been sent to more than 10 states, including most Southern states, Maryland, Oklahoma and even the District of Columbia. The district's Metropolitan Police force said in a statement that its intelligence unit was investigating the origins of the message.

Brody said a number of civil rights laws can be applied to hate-related incidents. The leaders of several other civil rights organizations condemned the messages, including Margaret Huang, president and CEO of the Southern Poverty Law Center, who said, “Hate speech has no place in the South or our nation.”

“The threat — and the mention of slavery in 2024 — is not only deeply disturbing, but perpetuates a legacy of evil that dates back to before the Jim Crow era, and now seeks to prevent Black Americans from enjoying the same freedom to pursue life, liberty, and happiness,” said NAACP President and CEO Derrick Johnson. “These actions are not normal. And we refuse to let them be normalized.”

[hana-bobo-finch]

shepherd’s dialogue on base:

Bernard is an excellent pilot, and yet even with him at the helm, we crashed. The cause is still a mystery…but I can’t help thinking something drew us here.

Yonny is an extremely avid reader, and his untiring spirit of academic curiosity is something to be admired. The problem is…he prefers paper books to digital ones and has boxes upon boxes of them shipped to us every week back at HQ.

You can rest assured that during a rescue mission, problems will arise that can’t be solved alone. When that happens, don’t hesitate to turn to your fellow officers. We’re a team here. Don’t forget that.

When this mission is over, take some time off. And take Oatchi along with you. He could use a bit of fun too. There’s a big park near HQ. it’s a lovely spot and has a nice dog run, to boot.

When Yonny is focused on concocting one of his new medicines, he forbids us from entering the ship’s lab. You wouldn’t believe that sounds of maniacal laughter that comes out of there. We just plug our ears and pay it no mind.

After talking with Bernard…HOOO, you can’t HELP but pick up the way he speaks! Gah! See what I mean?!

That wireless transceiver Collin uses…it’s quite an antique. It was passed down to him by his grandfather. Needless to say, it’s very important to him. Whenever it breaks, he replaces the parts himself and just keeps on using it.

Dingo is an ace of a ranger. And yes, he likes to conduct rescue operations on his own…But if you hit an obstacle, don’t hesitate to call for help. He’ll support you without fail.

I guess Bernard as part of some “dynamic duo” back home…and that has something to do with him becoming a pilot?

I’ve been thinking…when this mission is over, I should write a book about it. I’ve even decided on a title. Rescue Pup Training: A Mission Like No Other!

There’s a limit to the amount of cargo a spaceship can carry. That means the Rescue Officers have to learn to travel light. So imagine my surprise when Yonny tried to bring 27 shelves FULL of books. “Digital books,” I told him. “That’s an order!”

Bernard’s a superb pilot, but when you look at his resume…Well, he’s done so much you’d think he could be almost anything.

I invited Dingo to dinner once as a reward for all of his hard work. He went bright red in the face, then fainted right there on the spot. It was the strangest thing! I think perhaps I’ll try again after this mission is over. Surely he’s feeling much better by now.

Little known fact: Russ always wears a lab coat under his space suit. Why? “I am a researcher first and foremost!” he says. For this mission, his mother gifted him 64 new lab coats. You wouldn’t believe how much room they take up in the ship.

Bernard may seem like he’s irresponsible, but when he sits down in the cockpit, he’s all focus. Behind that boisterous personality of his, he’s a meticulous flying machine, pulling off maneuvers precise to a millisecond.

You’ve made yourself into an indispensable Rescue Officer, haven’t you? The work is hard, but the rewards…they’re BIG, eh?

I hear that ever since Collin was little. He’s spent all of his free time tinkering with machines. When he joined the Rescue Corps, he was already a highly skilled comms operator.

I consider myself real lucky to have a scientific genius like Russ around. There’s just…one problem. I have no idea what’s he’s talking about half the time. I find it best to just nod approvingly. Seems to make him feel good.

It’s not just Oatchi—the Pikmin really seem to have taken to you too. I guess I’ve gotten used to them at this point, but if I’m being honest…Rescue Pup training suits me a whole lot better.

“There’s no better judge of character than a dog.” That’s the Shepherd family motto, passed down through the generations.

“The best-laid plans often go awry.” As a captain, that’s something I never lose sight of. Once a captain has given a Rescue Officer their mission, there’s nothing to be don’t but hope you’ll see that officer again.

Russ’s passion of research is admirable, but when he leaves his equipment all over the ship, it’s a real problem. I keep telling him it’s a danger for takeoff and landing. He keeps telling me I should bring his mother to clean up behind him!

[hollandsfavbabe]

y/n comforting tom whilst he cries

a/n: ahh sorry this took like forever, and it's so short!

Clean

pairing: tom holland x reader

synopsis: in which y/n helps to break tom’s fear of vulnerability by comforting him after a bad day

warnings: nudity, but it’s not sexual

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

You didn’t hear the squealing of the door hinges as your boyfriend Tom arrived home. You completely missed the sound of his footsteps as he padded across the hardwood floor and you certainly didn’t notice the creaking of steps as he hurried up the stairs to the room you shared, gently closing the door behind him.

It wasn’t entirely your fault, Tom always greeted you warmly with a kiss and a cuddle every time he returned from work, but today was different. You were distracted, your headphones laid atop your unbrushed hair that you had haphazardly tied back, ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift blaring in your ears as you hummed along. Your hands were busy cutting up some vegetables for dinner as a pan of hot oil sizzled nearby, taking up all your attention. Tom was grateful for your occupance. He was in desperate need of some alone time, enough to hide away the tears streaming down his face so that you would never have to see him at his most vulnerable moment.

He rushed to the bathroom, stripping himself of the clothes he had worn to work and leaving them scattered on the tile. He didn’t have the energy to discard them neatly. Only enough to climb into the shower and turn it onto the coldest setting. He sobbed as the icy spray hit him, letting out all the built up sorrow and melancholy he had built up over the week.

Meanwhile downstairs, you had just set the carrots into the pan with all of the other ingredients when much to your dismay, your music shut off and your wireless headphones played a brief melodic ringtone, a sign that they had died and you could no longer listen to your beloved Tay Tay.

You groaned in annoyance, tearing them off your head and stomping to the charging port nearby.

“Stupid fuc-”

You were cut off by a rather loud noise coming from the second level of your house. Water was running, rushing through the pipes and sprayed out in a muffled rain storm that you could only barely detect from where you stood. You looked to the front door and caught sight of a pair of familiar shoes: Tom’s. You weren’t sure when he got home as you never received your usual greeting. Without further investigation, you rushed up the stairs to your bedroom and followed the sound of water to your connected bathroom. Upon entering you noticed his clothes scattered all over the floor. It was messy and careless, very much unlike the tidy man you knew. Without any hesitation, you crept to the shower curtain.

“Tom?”

Your boyfriend paused, realizing he was no longer alone.

“Love?” he called. His voice was tethering off the edge of breaking, only barely ringing clear.

“Are you okay?” you questioned. “I thought I heard something. I wasn’t sure-”

“I’m fine.” he assured, clearly not at all what he claimed to be.

“Are you sure?”

You sounded so gentle, so caring. It was refreshing after a long work day. Tom couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Maybe…” his voice broke. You were quick to act. You stripped down until every last article of clothing lay scattered on top of Tom’s and placed a hand tentatively on the shower curtain.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, waiting for his confirmation. You were met with a noise that sounded reminiscent of a hum and without a moment to lose, you stepped in.

You peeled back the shower curtain that separated you from your boyfriend and stepped into the shower stream still fully clothed. The sight that awaited you was heartbreaking.

Besides the obvious shower water that had left Tom soaked, his face was red and his eyes were glossy with tears. You frowned in concern. You never wanted to see the man you loved so dearly feel so horribly. You instantly pulled him into a hug, Tom breaking down as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Oh babe,” your hands moved to his head, combing through his damp brown curls in a soothing manner. “What happened?”

Tom took a moment to answer, simply seeking comfort in the warmth of your embrace. He lifted his head when he was ready to talk, still wrapped up in your arms as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry y/n. You weren’t meant to see me like this. I’m supposed to be there for you…” he trailed off as he was interrupted by another deep sob. You pulled away from him slightly, loosening your grip so you could look into his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” you placed a hand on his cheeks, wiping away one of his tears as it trickled down his face, washed away by the shower stream.

“I’m the one that’s supposed to comfort you, not the other way around. And now I’m ruining your day when we were supposed to have a nice night-”

You shushed him softly, pushing a few strands of stray hair out of his face, smoothing them back before returning your hand to his cheek.

“Hey,” you almost whispered, your voice soft but audible against the roar of the shower. “None of those things are happening. My night’s not ruined and what do you mean you’re supposed to comfort me? We’re here for each other, that’s how a relationship works.”

Tom bowed his head, touching his forehead to yours as a thanks for your support, sniffing as his tears seemed to slow.

“It’s okay to cry Tom, especially if it’s in front of me.”

Another sob erupted from him, but it wasn’t quite as saddening as the latter. It was a release now, a way to cope with whatever was on his mind.

“Thanks love.” he whispered.

“Of course.” you smiled. “Now if you’re comfortable with it, mind explaining what’s made you so upset?”

Tom raised his head before staring down at his feet, frowning at the thought.

“It's work,” he explained. “You remember what today was?”

It hit you instantly. How could you forget? Tom had been talking about it incessantly all week. Besides reshoots which would start up in a few months, it had been Tom’s last day on set as everyone’s favorite superhero; his last time playing Spider-Man. You knew it was a big deal, the role was one of his greatest accomplishments, but you had no idea it would bring him so much sadness.

“I remember, of course I remember.”

Tom was in tears again as he explained his sorrow, opening his soul up to you. He had been so afraid that no one would care, that his privilege overshadowed his suffering. Mostly he was scared that his career wouldn’t go anywhere after the trilogy had been released, that he had hit the pinnacle of his time as an actor and he was only going down from there.

“-and then no one will hire me and I’ll never get a role again!”

“Hey,” you calmed him, pulling his face closer to yours and cupping his cheeks in both of your hands. You couldn’t understand why he would think such things about himself, but no matter the reason you were determined to make him see sense again. “I think you know that none of those things are true. You’re an amazing actor Tom, maybe the best in our generation. This isn’t the end, not at all. Do you think maybe you feel all of this because you miss playing Spider-Man?”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “It’s ridiculous isn’t it.”

“No it’s not,” you assured him. “Of course it’s not. You’ve been playing Spider-Man for years! It would be weird for you to not be sad about it! But he won’t be your last role and who knows, maybe you’ll play him again sooner than you think.”

“You really think so?” he sniffed again. You nodded.

“I know so.”

He smiled, something you had been longing to see since you found out he had arrived home.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

You beamed as he pulled you closer.

“If you want I’m in a bit of a crying mood myself. Want to cuddle and watch a sad movie during dinner?”

He chuckled at that forcing a laugh out of you before he placed his lips upon yours. You could feel his grin through the kiss, his hands snuck up your waist as yours tangled in his hair again. You would’ve stayed like that, happy and pressed together, if it weren’t for an awful smell that pushed you apart.

“What is that?” you asked, nearly gagging as it hit you.

“I have no idea, but it smells like something's burning.”

That’s when it hit you.

“Oh shit! That’s probably dinner.”

Tom shrugged, pulling you close again.

“I think pizza goes better with movie night anyways.”

You smiled at him.

“Pizza it is.”

You pulled him down for one last peck, the shower stream still hot above you until Tom reached back and turned it off.

“We should really take care of that smell though.” he stated, moving to grab his towel as well as yours so that you could exit together.

“Alright,” you agreed, taking the towel from him and wrapping it around your center. “I’m on it.”

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 25-RMS Aquitania

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 25-Distress Signal

RMS Aquitania 

Aquitania tried to struggle against the tugboats, but her fires were long gone out. She had managed to get out a quick distress call before they shut off her wireless, she had little hope anyone would answer. Her owners had told her she was being sold to American owners, instead she was being dragged to Scotland for scrap. 

Even with her boiler cold, her size meant the tugs had to strain to maintain control of the liner. 

'I served them for thirty-five years,' she thought bitterly, 'but I'm not even worth the trouble of trying to sell me.'

She desperately used the last of the steam she had hidden away to blast her whistles a final time, the sound echoing mournfully through the fog.

"Stop with all that!" The lead tugboat snapped. "No one is coming. We made sure Mauretania was in New York. Anyone who would care is across the Atlantic, by the time they got word it will be too late." He growled with grim satisfaction.

The blast of a Liner's horn in close proximity proved him wrong.

Had the tug been less assured of his control of the situation, he may have noticed the other ships approach through the fog. As it was, distracted as he had been by Aquitania's struggles, he only had time to see a massive prow cut through the fog and bowl him under as the liner charged through the tugboats' ranks. Even when rebuilt, the distinctive lines of an Olympic class were unmistakable.

The great liner disappeared into the fog, blasting her whistles challengingly. The remaining tugs whirled to face the direction she had gone. This was their second mistake.

They were caught completely off guard when Olympic herself slammed through their lines from Aquitania's starboard side at full steam, her prow slicing the lines, her wake threatening to swamp the smaller tugs. 

Before the tugs could recover, the youngest sister appeared from port and expertly threw her line, taking Aquitania under tow.

The tugboats went to pursue, only for Olympic and the first ship, who could only be Tina, to cut them off, crossing in an x behind Aquitania's stern.

"Sorry it took so long!" Britannic called back. "We thought we waiting for Tina, but she was already steaming for you."

"I thought she was mid-refit?" Aquitania called back

Brit snorted, "Like that was gonna stop her."

The mentioned liner pulled alongside, and sure enough, Aquitania could now see her superstructure was stripped bare.

"How's it going Aqua?" The flagship yelled, beaming with the flush of battle.

"I've told you not to call me that," Aquitania groaned. She couldn't stop her smile, however, "Better now thanks to you three."

Olympic upon her other side, "Got that out of your system?" She teased Tina.

"No, but it'll do."

Olympic muttered something about battle-crazed little sisters while Brit laughed ahead.

"How did you know I needed help?" Aquitania asked.

"Maura got a signal through, relayed from ship to ship from New York'" Olympic explained.

"Caomhnóir found me at the drydock," Tina added.

"Caomhnóir?" Aquitania asked, "But I'm not an engine!"

"The Lady warned him as a favor to the Siren." Brit chimed in.

Aquitania froze, "...the Siren?"

Tina smirked, "Lusitania may not have been allowed to intervene directly, but your sister didn't let that stop her."

A/N: Some Context-Yes all three Olympic class liners are alive and well in the 50s, in service with the Sodor Star Line. As for Lusitania, she did sionk during the war, but rather than dying out right she was offered the position of The Siren, the Gaurdian spirit of the Atlantic. Essentially she serves a very simular role to Caomhnóir but for ships, and she doesn't have a true physical form anymore.

[govindhtech]

Samsung Galaxy A56: Best Smartphone Performance In 2025

Samsung Galaxy A56

As development news breaks, the Samsung Galaxy A56 is gaining popularity in the smartphone industry. Designed to succeed the Galaxy A series, this gadget is expected to outperform even Samsung’s top models. Mid-range smartphones will be transformed by the Galaxy A56’s speed, efficiency, and user experience. It is the most anticipated specifications and why it’s worth the wait.

Galaxy A56 Features

New mid-range smartphone standard

The Galaxy A56 continues Samsung’s legacy of quality features at an accessible price. Samsung looks to be pushing the limits even further, providing the A56 with high-performance specs that might compete with flagship handsets.

Strong Processor Upgrade

Due to its speculated Exynos 1480 processor, the A56 outperforms its predecessor, the Exynos 1280 in the A54. The new Exynos 1480 improves multitasking, processing performance, and power efficiency. It is octa-core CPU handles intense operations smoothly, so you can stream, game, or manage many apps.

Samsung may possibly provide a Snapdragon 7 Gen 2 model for adaptable usage in various areas. With its high performance and power economy, this processor makes the Galaxy A56 a powerful mid-range competitor.

Memory and storage upgrades

Samsung will upgrade RAM and storage with the A56. There are significant reports that the basic model will have 6GB of RAM, although an 8GB edition may be available for intense workloads. Users may choose 128GB or 256GB internal storage, extendable via microSD up to 1TB. Users need flexibility, and this gives programs, images, movies, and files plenty of space.

Huge Speeds

Today’s digital world requires 5G, which the Galaxy A56 provides. The A56 is fantastic for streaming, gaming, and video conferencing due to dual-mode 5G download and upload rates. The A56 will keep people connected at fast speeds worldwide as 5G spreads.

Beautiful AMOLED Display

The Galaxy A56‘s 6.5-inch Full HD+ Super AMOLED display with deep blacks, bright colors, and superb contrast. The A56 will maintain Samsung’s display superiority with its immersive display. A 120Hz refresh rate assures clean images and minimal motion blur, giving the screen a luxury feel normally seen in higher-end devices.

Amazing Camera Setup

Smartphone cameras matter, and the Galaxy A56 may include quad cameras. Speculation implies a 50MP primary sensor, 12MP ultra-wide, 5MP macro, and 5MP depth sensor. This configuration enables for wide-angle vistas and close-ups.

The 50MP main camera offers great low-light performance, quicker focusing, and sharper images. AI advancements provide pro-level photography without a flagship smartphone. Quality selfies and video calls with 32MP camera.

Samsung Galaxy A56 may utilize 5,000mAh battery

Smartphone customers appreciate battery life. Power-efficient Exynos or Snapdragon chipsets and large batteries should last all day for gaming and streaming. The A56 is include 25W rapid charging for quick phone usage. As usual for Samsung’s A-series, this mid-range device won’t include wireless charging.

Android/One UI Integration

As predicted, the Samsung Galaxy A56 will come with Android 14 and One UI 6. With capabilities to boost productivity and customization, Samsung’s One UI is seamless and user-friendly. One-handed mode, Edge Panels, and extensive privacy settings make the A56 a versatile tablet for casual and experienced users.

Samsung Knox, the company’s unique security technology, will provide improved protection to secure your data. With regular software updates and security fixes, the A56 will endure for years.

Smooth Design and Quality

Samsung designs are known for their quality, so the Galaxy A56 should look great. Corning Gorilla Glass 5 front and back makes the phone look fantastic and endure longer. This thin device with curved edges is easy to grasp and will come in numerous colors for design and function.

Keeping its IP67 dust- and water-resistant designation makes the A56 more durable for daily usage in varied conditions.

Samsung Galaxy A56 Price

Final Thoughts: Mid-Range Powerhouse Galaxy A56

The A56 is turning out to be one of the most powerful and adaptable mid-range smartphones with its astonishing variety of high-performance capabilities. Its powerful Exynos 1480 CPU, 120Hz AMOLED display, quad-camera system, 5G connection, and big battery make the Galaxy A56 the right blend of performance, features, and cost.

The A56 is a must-see for anybody searching for flagship-like capabilities at a lower price. Samsung is pushing the limits of mid-range smartphones.

Galaxy A56 Release Date

No Samsung Galaxy A56 release date has been disclosed. Early in the year, Samsung releases its mid-range A series smartphones. Based on prior trends, the Galaxy A56 should be introduced in early 2025.

Read more on Govindhtech.com

[ledmarconi]

content type ; one-shot.

featured muses ; harold bride , quinn walton , theodore ismay , anastasia andrews-ismay, henry wilde , charles lightoller , constance morgan , a brief mention of edward smith.

CONTENT WARNING — hello everybody! i would just like to begin this by saying this is only loosely based off true historical events. due to the addition of numerous original characters along with the actual events of john phillips birthday being unknown, there may be some inaccuracies. this is a headcanon based writing and i hope you all will enjoy it. thank you.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐄.

twenty-five. that was quite a boring age, there was no major achievements that came with it. not to mention, it was just a step closer to old age. that was an odd thought for the young wireless operator. in his eyes he was still young, he couldn't view himself any older than the present time. what would he be like as an old man? he surely hoped that he would be happy, possibly have a nice family and even a nice home. this, of course, would never happen. maybe jack could only see himself reaching the age of twenty-five because of the events looming only a few days in the near future. but nobody could predict that. it was a nearly unsinkable ship after all, the grandest of its time.

perhaps that's why he didn't mind being on the ship for his birthday, he didn't need a celebration. he enjoyed his work. although it was tiring and some of the messages seemed irrelevant, at least he was doing it with his colleague. harold bride. they joked and taunted and within the few days of knowing one another, jack already viewed harold as a brother. out of every person on the ship, harold was the only one he'd mentioned his birthday to. it was a simple topic brought up in one of their conversations and jack had thought nothing of it, going as far as to assure him that he didn't mind spending his day in the wireless room. so when the clock struck 2 pm and he heard the door creak open, he thought nothing of it. still consumed in sending a final message before he was off, he didn't even care to watch as the younger man slowly approached him.

suddenly "bloody hell! HAROLD!" echoed through the room as jack lept from his seat, his entire back now drenched in ice cold water. meanwhile, manic laughter could be heard as harold nearly toppled over, grabbing the chair to steady himself and slapping his hand on jacks shoulder. "happy birthday, john! hope twenty-five is a good one!" in response, jack brought his hand up and with one swift movement, slapped the back of harold's head. ( he couldn't bring himself to slap him in the face... the joke may have been somewhat funny ) in response, harold moved to chase him. jack ran to the other side of the room, picking up the remaining water left in the bucket. "stay back! i'll get you back!"

"oh no you won't!" harold exclaimed, picking up the chair and holding it like a shield.

jack shook the bucket at him and pretended to throw it, laughing as harold lept back. "where did you even get this from?" jack scolded, yanking his vest off and setting it to the side along with the bucket. subconsciously, he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. the water had been unbearably cold, almost like ice and the moment it hit his back it felt like knives being slammed into him. harold smirked and shrugged "you can thank officer walton for that one. i managed to catch them while they were checking the waters temperature." after processing for a moment, jack forced his mouth into a scowl, avoiding looking at his friend. unluckily for him, he caught a glance of harold's face and to no avail he burst into laughter. with a shake of his head, he began to make his way to the door. before leaving, he turned back. "you're awful, you know that?." he spoke with a bright smile.

"yet you still call me your best friend."

"i'm unsure why i do."

"you adore me, admit it."

"... you're lucky i do. if not you would have been thrown over board within our first meeting." jack counteracted and carefully stepped out, peeking his head in for one final statement. "i'll see you in a few hours. good luck, you'll be up all night with these."

the ship was oddly silent, typically jack could hear harold in the next room over and there was always the bustling of stewards and officers outside. but there was nothing. absolutely nothing. it was curious, but not enough to provide jack a reason to investigate. he slid on a new set of clothing and fixed his hair after the chaos that had occurred only moments before.

jack moved to step right back into the wireless room, fixing his tie as he did so. the moment he stepped in, he nearly fell back.

"SURPRISE!!" a feminine voice called out, jacks eyes widening as he took a step back. it was quite a surprise. usually only harold would be in this room and potentially captain smith if they needed to discuss matters. after taking a moment to process, his eyes wandered around the room.

constance morgan, quinn walton, theodore ismay, charles lightoller and even anastasia andrews-ismay were all gathered around a grinning harold.

jacks first thought being 'that little shit, he's told everybody what's so special about today'. but deep down he felt a deep sense of joy, a shy smile spreading across his face as he observed the chaos happening in the wireless room. all of this for him. "it is quite a surprise." jack finally spoke, stunned into near silence.

"come, sit down, john." constance encouraged, leading jack to a chair and carefully setting a birthday cake in front of him. "it was very last minute, but we all pitched in to get a few things for you." she explained and lit the candles.

"oh, please don't sing for me. it's alright. i appreciate it." jack spoke, growing flustered from all the attention at once. before he could refuse any further, the group began singing cheerfully.

an out of tune, happy chorus. an odd mix of people who just so happened to be in the same place at the same time. fate being the one in control.

jack looked up, the smile still not wiped from his face. the music came to an end and ismays son called out "go on, make a wish!"

jack nodded and shut his eyes, thinking to himself as he made his wish.

'i hope i can live like this for the rest of my life.'

and he would. for the remaining days of his short life his birthday wish would be granted, he'd stay alongside all his loved ones and have the family he'd hope to grow old with.

getting snapped out of his thoughts, he heard the popping of a champagne bottle and turned to watch the only female officer aboard the ship. quinn, holding a fizzing bottle. he couldn't help but laugh and shake his head at her, getting up and gathering glasses for everyone but theodore who was too young to drink just yet. after pouring some for everyone, quinn raised a glass. before she could speak, the door opened, revealing chief officer henry wilde. the group turned towards him, expecting for him to ask everyone to head back to what they were meant to be doing, but after entering the room the tallest officer poured himself a glass and turned towards jack. "happy birthday, did i miss your toast?"

jack smiled softly and shook his head, laughing as he heard quinn call out 'to jack!' and with that they all clinked their glasses together, a series of 'to jack' being followed.

his final few days were spent with his lovely colleagues and friends, the people he now viewed as family. being twenty-five may not have been what he expected, but it definitely wasn't eventless like john phillips had predicted. it was filled with family and work, only for the man who had just barely escaped boyhood to pass over on the fateful night of april 15th, 1912.

maybe twenty-five wasn't such a boring age after all.

[invisibleraven]

Winter prompts! 2 (sees snow for the first time) character of your choice!

When Julie's parents sent her away to live with her aunt in the countryside, she had hated them fiercely. Yes, they had assured her that they still loved her, and would come back for her as soon as they could. And deep down, she knew she was safer here in this little house than anywhere near where the war was raging or bombs were being dropped. But she didn't have to be happy about it.

She missed the city, the ability to get a bus almost anywhere, even if she wasn't old enough to ride it by herself yet. The museums, the shops, the cinema. All tia's village had was a little store that sold sweets alongside the postage stamps and the newspaper. Plus you had to walk everywhere, not a bus in sigh. And you could forget about culture, the closest thing was the library, and Julie had exhausted their small supply of child appropriate books months ago. She was half tempted to see if the librarian would loan her something more adult, but she knew that woman would rat her out to her aunt.

Thus she was stuck inside exploring her aunt's house more often than not. She had a healthy supply of records, and the wireless was a good distraction, even if Victoria scrambled to change it when news of the world came on. Julie scowled at that, wanting desperately to know if the city still stood, if the country was winning... if her parents and their fight for victory was succeeding.

Eventually she felt she knew every corner of the home, down to the last dust mite. Except the one room that her aunt kept locked. Julie found the key hidden in a drawer, and one day while Victoria was out playing bridge, she clicked it open. Only to find it empty save for one large wardrobe against the wall.

Opening it up, she saw a wealth of coats, some even lined with fur, luxurious ermine, soft angora wool, one even had mother of pearl buttons! Julie dug in, pulling one on, posing in front of the mirror, pouting her lips like she saw the movie stars do.

It was then that she felt a chill, heard the tinkling of bells, coming from behind the coats. She dug into them, finding the wardrobe went even further back than she thought, and dove in, leaving the coat in a crumpled heap on the floor.

She kept going until she found a light in the distance, and when she reached forward, it didn't feel like coats, but the branches of a great pine tree, the kind her parents always got at yuletide. She could smell the evergreens, and when she pushed past their scratchy branches had to stop.

The world around her was cold, and covered in snow.

Snow!

Julie was delighted, holding her hands out as soft flakes fell from the sky, watching them melt against the warmth of her skin. Giggled when she could see her breath dancing on the wind. Skipped and danced through the crunchy snow beneath her, heedless of the wetness seeping into her sensible shoes. Holding out her tongue to catch the errant flakes that blew past, and twirling once more until she found herself in a clearing.

Where there was naught but a lamp post.

She approached slowly, the warm glow feeling welcoming amidst this new world of icy delights.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Julie whirl around and stared, for before her was a man... well he looked like a man, only with the legs of a goat! His chest was bare save a bright red scarf around his neck, and she could spy tiny horns peaking through his unruly brown curls. "Hello my dear. Welcome to Narnia. I'm Mr. Tumnus."

"Julie," she said, giving a little curtsey. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The satyr grinned, giving a mock bow, and Julie immediately felt at ease. He even offered to introduce her to his friends, the badgers, but she could hear her aunt calling, so she regretfully declined.

She gave Mr. Tumnus a mournful goodbye, and made her way back through the tress, struggling through the coats until she collapsed onto the hard wood floor. Then rushed off towards where Victoria was calling her.

Resolving to come back, to see snow, see her new friend once more.

One thing was for certain though, her sojourn into the country while the war raged on was looking a lot less boring!

[ablackwomansurvivingrape]

Cell Phone Carriers Are Putting Domestic Violence Survivors At Risk. Here's What To Know.

With a flight booked, Caitlin Eckert was ready to leave her abuser. But the morning she was set to go, she remembered they were still on the same phone plan.

The two had taken advantage of a deal earlier in their relationship — two new iPhones — which put them on a shared plan under his name. Not expecting her relationship to turn abusive (because who would?), this understandably caused her little hesitation at the time.

But now she felt terrified. What if, out of spite, he disconnected and erased her phone number, the one she’d used for 15 years as a young professional, friend and family member?

She called customer service and tried to explain her situation calmly. But no matter what she said, the response from the other end was the same: Her abuser would have to make the call or show up to the store to take her off the plan.

“At one point, I broke down and asked the stranger on the other line, ‘What do I do?’” she said. “Which, looking back, I realize was both in terms of the cell phone plan and the abuse I was experiencing.”

Unwilling to accept the options provided, Eckert went to the store in person. Her flight was in a few hours, but she knew this needed to be squared away.

At the store, three men greeted her. They asked if she was the main account holder; she said she wasn’t. “Immediately, they threw their hands up and told me that there was nothing they could do,” she said. “I remember feeling an immediate wave of defeat rush over me, as I knew that in order to emancipate myself from my abuser, I would need his active participation in the process.”

This is a far-reaching issue.

Are all phone companies like this? The short answer: It depends. “Cell phone providers have different laws and regulations dependent on the state,” said Blair Dorosh-Walther, program manager of economic empowerment at Safe Horizon, a victim assistance organization. “Unfortunately, most states do not have supportive domestic violence protections.”

Many others have confronted this predicament. In one Twitter thread, people talked about facing or learning about this issue with Verizon, AT&T and T-Mobile, the country’s three biggest carriers. The hoops to jump through are never-ending, even for survivors who are able to go through the process required by their carrier.

A Verizon Support representative replied to the Twitter thread, saying “I assure you that any domestic violence victim that receives an order from a court to assume responsibility of their wireless number, can do so without requiring authorization from the current account owner or manager.”

In response to questions from HuffPost, the company claimed, “We work very closely with survivors to make sure they can get any documentation we request, and we make sure we don’t put anyone at risk.”

T-Mobile said, in part, “T-Mobile supports the Safe Connections Act that would make [being able to sever a phone line without the consent of an abuser] a consistent federal policy. We also support domestic violence survivors where they need assistance with device ownership and service costs.” Neither carrier said policies requiring survivors to produce court orders or other documentation have been eliminated, and AT&T did not answer questions about their policies.

But going to court, let alone getting a court order, is incredibly hard and a major barrier for survivors. The time, money, evidence and resources needed can simply be too much, making laws that are supposedly “helpful” far from it.

“Often, laws supporting domestic violence survivors end up creating far more work for the survivor than the person causing harm, which may be additionally traumatizing,” Dorosh-Walther added. “Cell phone contracts are no different.”

As you can imagine, this situation ensures survivors are even more controlled by their abusers, and in multiple ways. “[It] allows the account owner to access and control to not only the call log, text exchanges, etc., but also the victim’s ‘numeric identity,’ as many friends and family members likely know how to contact this person primarily via phone,” said Rahkim Sabree, an author who specializes in financial abuse and financial trauma. “If access to the phone is lost, many of the apps that rely on two-factor authorization will lock you out because you can’t access texts, emails, etc., without your phone, including bank accounts and social media, which deepens the degree to which the victim can be controlled.”

Plus, the legal definition of abuse doesn’t cover certain forms of emotional abuse, for example, that are just as serious.

Some states are making changes, but it’s only a start. “Connecticut recently passed Jennifer’s Law that now includes coercive control … as a form of domestic violence,” said Cristina Perera, a licensed marriage and family therapist at Thriveworks in New Haven, Connecticut, who specializes in abuse and trauma. “Currently, this law is only in Connecticut and California.”

Getting out of a family plan with an abuser is difficult, but not impossible.

So what can be done?

Let’s start with what’s currently happening in terms of legislation. In July, the House of Representatives passed The Safe Connections Act, after a companion bill had already been passed in the Senate. It gives survivors the ability to remove themselves from a family phone plan without problems or fees, but has yet to be made law.

So what can someone in this situation do in the meantime? First and foremost, safety planning. “Safety planning is essential, not only for contract bifurcation, but [for] any step a survivor takes away from the person causing them harm towards physical and financial safety,” Dorosh-Walther said.

Creating this plan with someone at a domestic violence center or hotline, such as the National Domestic Violence Hotline, is your best bet. Otherwise, worksheets like this one can help.

Side note: If you don’t feel comfortable having the hotline in your call list at all, see if a friend can do the calling for you, or let you call from their phone. Know that the number will not appear on your bill. “Shelters and hotline numbers for those seeking help are blocked from appearing on records, so people can make contact without fear of being found out,” Perera said.

Once that’s squared away, here are some options to consider if your phone provider won’t make exceptions for safety.

Document the abuse.

As a survivor and licensed clinical social worker, Eckert recommended “documenting stalking, tracking, accessing your private and personal information, threats to cut off your phone, accessing private photos and other means of abuse through the cell phone plan.”

As much as you’re able to, take screenshots, gather medical documents, videos and notes — and of all the abuse, not just the technological stuff. This can help with obtaining court orders and, hopefully, dealing with your cell phone provider.

Talk to your abuser about getting off the plan ASAP.

“If I had known this would have been so difficult to get out of, I would have started the process of convincing my abuser to let me off the plan for months,” Eckert added. (After an incredible amount of convincing and compromise, she got her abuser to agree.)

If you can’t leave yet, but are planning to leave later, you can also consider more indirect ways of talking to your abuser. Maybe you can make an excuse about wanting a different phone or carrier, see if you can become the new account holder, say you want separate plans, or not give a reason at all.

Again, talking through your options with someone on a domestic violence hotline first is ideal.

File for a domestic violence restraining order, or DVRO.

This requires filling out some forms. In California, for example, that could start with the state’s DV-100 form to request a long-term domestic violence restraining order — but there’s a faster option available, too.

“While DV-100 is a request for a restraining order on a long-term basis, the DV-110 allows you to get a temporary restraining order quickly before your scheduled DVRO hearing is set, which can be a few months out from the date of your filing,” said Rita Mkrtchyan, a senior attorney at Oak View Law Group. She added that in California, the DV-110 will probably be signed by a judge within a few days of filing and can help you get a court order. Check the process in your state to see what your options are.

You may not be able to wait a few days to sever your phone line, though. If that’s the case, Mkrtchyan suggested submitting your filed documents to the phone carrier, even before a judge signs off on them.

“Some carriers will accept this as enough evidence to leave the phone plan without permission from the account holder. This may take some persuading, however,” she said.

It’s helpful to have a plan in place before you file for a restraining order — though a restraining order is meant to reduce your risk, some studies and surveys show there’s a chance an abuser may retaliate and break a restraining order after being served.

See if your state has a law about phone plans and domestic violence.

Look into (or ask a loved one to look into) the laws regarding phone plans and domestic violence in your state.

“In recent years, many states have passed laws allowing a judge to issue a court order directly to the phone company, as part of a protection order case, to order changes to the shared plan that is in the abuser’s name,” said Deborah J. Vagins, president and CEO of the National Network to End Domestic Violence.

She explained that this order transfers the billing to the survivor’s name and allows the survivor (and any children) to carry their phone numbers to a different plan. The NNEDV’s WomensLaw.org website has a helpful section on that, she added.

Vagins noted that “in the states where it’s authorized, [a court order to leave a shared plan] is often requested as part of the protection order process. Some states require the possibility of imminent danger before a protection order is granted, and proving that may be challenging.”

While not for everyone, and sometimes difficult to access or afford, protection orders can be good for some survivors. “By no means do I want to discourage victims from filing for a protection order and making this wireless transfer request,” Vagins said. “Protection orders can be a crucial part of a safety plan for many victims.”

Get a new phone number.

If you can give up on your phone and phone number, starting over with a new one may be the route to take. Perera said that shelters can direct survivors who choose this path to specific agencies that can provide free or affordable plans.

This is what survivor, advocate and resilience expert Jamie Wright had to do when her abuser wouldn’t help. It was a choice she didn’t want to have to make, but she’s been able to find silver linings.

“My therapist helped me reframe the loss of my phone number (which I honestly felt, at the time, my phone number was part of my identity, who I was),” she said. “She also helped me process and reframe the loss of some of my contacts as a way to clear space in my new life for new relationships [and] connections that aligned with my new life, the life I was beginning to embark on, free from violence.”

While this option may be the best one for some people, it’s okay to still be upset if you have to go this route. It will cause extra hassle, like having to email or message your new number to clients, co-workers, family and friends, but it may be worth it in the end.

Getting off of your abuser’s phone plan is harder than it should be — there’s no doubt about that. But please know you have people in your corner who want to help. You have a way out, and you deserve to feel safe.

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music? - Deleted Scene

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

hiii <3 another long awaited bonus chapter!! the only context you really need for this is that it is the first meeting from chapter 1 but from rosie's pov and, i suppose, if you're not following my other mota fic (ata) then it might help to know that alice, who features at the beginning of this deleted scene, is from there, a friend of my other oc, stella.

hope you loveeeee <3 masterlist is here

Freddie and Rosie's First Meeting From Rosie's Point of View

As Rosie adjusted to his new life at Thorpe Abbotts, he kept catching himself drafting up letters in his head of what he would write to his mother and sister about it; the lively parties in the officers’ club and the fancy officers’ mess with its tablecloths and table service, the whirlwind of trying to learn so many names and keep them reliably attached to faces, the sheer size of the airfield and the quaint little village it was attached to, the Red Cross girls and the ATA pilots and the wireless operators and the many, many American airmen.

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting and yet, somehow, it was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

And, no, he’d tell his mother and sister dutifully, indulgently, preempting their prying questions, he hadn’t fallen in love yet. His sister had joked about him returning home with a British girl on his arm and his mother had worried that instead he’d decide to stay in England, so head over heels he’d trade the life he loved at home for whichever one his sweetheart wanted. But his mother had little to fear, he’d assure her; he hadn’t met anyone like that.

Not, of course, for lack of trying on part of one ATA pilot. Her name was Alice and she was nice enough - she’d be another man’s dream, Rosie knew, but unfortunately she wasn’t his. He couldn’t altogether articulate why; she was pretty and smart and funny, had buckets of personality and confidence, and, of course, she was a pilot, which gave them common ground. It was more just that Rosie knew himself and he knew, as he always had, that when he met the right person he would know. It was why he’d never gone all the way with the previous girlfriends he’d had who his family had loved and who had, for all intents and purposes, been real catches. He hadn’t felt it yet. Really, he didn’t even know what it was supposed to feel like. But he would know it when he found it, of this much he was sure. And he hadn’t found it just yet.

Right now, with the warm light of the officers’ club dancing in her eyes, Alice of the ATA was making another valiant attempt at flirting with him as they stood by the bar. Rosie was smiling politely at her, blushing occasionally when she was bolder with her compliments, and sipping intermittently from his beer. All around he was enveloped by conversation and music, the band at the far end of the room playing a raucous tune which had many of the Red Cross girls swept up by partners.

But, in spite of the noise, the room wasn’t quite full yet; the wireless operators weren’t here. Rosie noticed because he’d found in Millie Harlow something of a friend - and one who didn’t try to flirt with him, at that. And the first time they’d met a couple of nights ago she’d told him about her best friend who was away on leave but who she promised he would just adore, and apparently this best friend was back at the airfield today.

As though orchestrated by the composer in the corner or else divined by some higher being, the door to the officers’ club was flung open right then and most everyone’s attention, willingly or otherwise, was diverted towards it. Because through the door spilled a sparkling, giggly crowd of wireless operators, their arms all flung around each other, their red-painted lips split wide with smiles. Some of them were cheering, others were calling to each other, and at the front of the group were Millie and her friend Jem, holding on tightly to a girl Rosie hadn’t met yet.

She was startlingly pretty, this girl, the one Millie must have been talking about the other night. With dark hair and warm brown eyes, full lips and dimples in her cheeks, Rosie realised quite suddenly that he was staring. It was impossible not to, really, and he certainly wasn’t the only one, but while most everyone else was staring that way because some of the other girls were shouting about war heroes and Victoria Crosses, Rosie was staring that way because there was some sort of magnetic force keeping his eyes stuck there, like if he looked away he’d miss out on the best moments of his life, like if he even blinked he’d never again lay eyes on anything that made him feel this way, warm and excited and alive.

“Ladies!” called Major Egan, standing up straight from where he’d been leaning back against the bar with Major Cleven a little ways away from Rosie. “There you are. We been missing you!”

“Looking this good takes time, Major,” Millie replied with a smirk and a conspiratorial pat to his shoulder as she passed.

The girl under her arm grinned, glancing at Millie with her eyes all lit up with fondness and good humour.

“Rosie,” Alice said from in front of Rosie, clicking her fingers in his face to divert his attention back to her. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh.” Rosie cleared his throat, refocusing his eyes on her but not quite getting the hang of forcing them to stay there. Every few seconds they would flick up over her shoulder to Millie’s friend where she was swept up into the conversation of the big group in the middle of the bar, smiling and rolling her eyes as she conversed with Majors Egan and Cleven and the other wireless operators and whichever other airmen managed to get a word in. “Sorry.”

“I was saying,” Alice began, but Rosie’s ears were pricking.

“For her,” Jem was correcting, her eyes narrowed on Major Egan. “Freddie’s our war hero.” She inclined her head in the direction of the new girl with the dimples and the eyes.

“Or heroine, I suppose,” added a different girl - Amy, he thought, who had also tried to flirt with him on his first night - winking in the first girl’s direction.

Freddie, Rosie thought, considering the name in his head. It seemed strange, a boy’s name for a girl that pretty, but somehow it also suited her. There was a sweetness to it that echoed in the gentle twitch of her lips and the pink hue in her cheeks as she blushed at the attention, and a musicality to it, too. Freddie. His lips noiselessly formed the word, trying it out for size.

He watched on, grinning, as one of the other wireless operators, the one with the thick Irish accent, started to explain just what had transpired earlier to gain Freddie her war hero status. His eyes were stuck to her as she fidgeted and shook her head, as though shooing away the praise, and as her eyes dipped to her shoes and she scrunched up her face in embarrassment.

“After a dogfight,” the Irish girl was explaining, “a German fighter must’ve gotten himself disoriented. He was flying over England but had convinced himself it was France. When I started receiving him on the radio I had no idea what to do, of course, and I started panicking and damn near started crying because I was so scared. But then Freddie - who, it turns out, speaks perfect German - took the receiver from me and started directing this German fighter in like she does it everyday. Cool and calm as you like, she guides him in, and then the second he’s down we’ve got him caught and captured and his plane is being taken in for analysis and now we have the newest German fighter in our hands to find out how it works.”

Rosie drank all this information in like it was water and he was stranded in a desert.

Amy leaped in to add, “Say what you like, but our RAF fighters are going to owe a lot to our Freddie when they know how to dogfight these new German Messers because we have one of them.”

“Yeah, well, we’re hoping we’ll know a lot about the German Air Force in general when the brass have finished interrogating the Jerry who fell for the whole charade,” commented Jem with a wry smirk.

“Well,” started Major Egan, grinning, clapping his hands together, “seems like maybe you really do need a drink, Fred.”

Fred. Her friends called her Fred.

Adorable.

“Rosie,” Alice complained from in front of him.

His eyes snapped back to her, heat creeping up his cheeks. He’d forgotten she was standing there. “Sorry,” he said hastily. “I’m just a little out of it tonight.”

“I’d say so,” Alice agreed with a bitter laugh. “Freddie Leroy caught your eye, has she?”

Rosie flushed harder. He’d been so focused on listening into the conversation about Freddie, on keeping his eyes on her, he hadn’t thought to even attempt subtlety.

“Leroy,” he said, without meaning to say it. Her last name was Leroy.

Alice rolled her eyes. “Yes, Freddie Leroy. One of the wireless operators.” She shifted on her feet, agitated. “Anyway, what I was saying was…”

“Beer?” Millie was asking Freddie Leroy, inching her way closer to the bar towards where Rosie was standing.

“Lemonade,” Freddie corrected.

Rosie chuckled softly under his breath.

Millie scowled. “No.”

Suddenly, Freddie was frowning. It was so utterly precious Rosie’s heart ached, coiled tight, like a dish towel being wrung out within an inch of its life, its water pouring into the sink. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Freddie asked.

“I mean ‘no’,” Millie answered steadily. “I’m not buying you lemonade.”

“Why not?!”

“You can have beer or you can have wine.”

“I’ll buy it myself, then.”

Alice had stopped talking when Rosie next looked down at her. She had an expectant look on her face, clearly waiting for a reply to whatever she’d been saying, and all Rosie could do was offer an apologetic smile. It wasn’t like him to be this rude but he was powerless to stop it. There was something about that girl, Freddie, that wouldn’t let him rest, not while she was in the same room as him, within looking and hearing distance, not while there was the potential that he might talk to her.

“Sorry,” Rosie said again, resting both of his hands on Alice’s shoulders and giving them a gentle, friendly squeeze. “Will you excuse me?”

Alice deflated, like she knew what was happening. “You’re not interested in me at all, are you?” she asked, upfront and matter-of-fact as ever.

Once more, Rosie’s answering smile was apologetic. “I think you’re great,” he told her, and meant it. “And I think you’re gonna be some guy’s dream.”

“But not yours,” Alice deduced.

Rosie gave her shoulders one more gentle squeeze. “But not mine,” he agreed.

Sighing, Alice shrugged. Rosie’s hands fell away from her. She gave him a tight, though not disingenuous, smile. “Go get her, then, I suppose. Good luck.”

Smiling, Rosie nodded. “Thanks.”

When Alice left, Millie was quick to step into the space she’d vacated, trying to find space at the bar. Rosie knew he would have to be quick if he wanted to buy Freddie her drink before Millie did, so he sought out a couple of lower ranking airmen and stepped in beside them, and they let him order before them without a second thought. He would have to remember their faces, he thought as he ordered, and buy them all a drink later in thanks.

By the time he had ordered and paid for the lemonade, Freddie had only moved a little bit. As Rosie came up behind her he caught the tail end of her conversation - which was, apparently, still about lemonade.

“Exactly,” Freddie was saying to Major Egan and Jem, “and hotshot wireless operators drink lemonade.”

“No,” Jem replied, laughing, “we don’t.”

If there was ever going to be a gap in the conversation, Rosie knew this was it. Mustering all the courage and all the confidence he had inside of him, he drew in a deep breath and held out the glass of lemonade towards her, then ventured, “Excuse me, ma’am.”

Freddie turned and her eyes landed on him, wide and curious, warm and beautiful. She had to tilt her head back a little bit to meet his eyes and the angle made the light spill over her perfectly, like an angel in a Renaissance painting. She was even more startlingly beautiful up close.

Rosie’s heart squeezed before it resumed its beating.

“Hi,” Freddie greeted softly in what was almost a chirp.

“Hi,” Rosie replied, almost dazed under her attention. He had to shake his head slightly to clear it and refocus. “I hope you don’t mind, ma’am, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and I thought - well, here’s your lemonade.” He offered the glass to her again, blushing as he fumbled his words.

“Oh,” Freddie said, accepting the glass of lemonade from him. Her fingers were warm where they grazed lightly against his even though he’d been careful to try not to place his hand in a place which would force her to touch him. “Thank you,” she added shyly, politely.

Rosie smiled. His heart was racing, loud and insistent in his ears. “Nothing at all, ma’am.”

Freddie hesitated, her wide eyed gaze uncertain and almost a little bit panicked, like she had no idea what to do with herself, so Rosie took a step back. He didn’t want to force her into a conversation she didn’t want to have, didn’t want her to feel trapped, so he inclined his head in farewell first to her and then turned to Majors Egan and Cleven by the bar.

“I’m Freddie,” Freddie blurted suddenly, and he turned right back.

Her voice was high-pitched and hasty, like she’d only decided to speak at the very moment she’d started to. She was blushing, like she hated the sound.

Rosie could only grin, unspeakably endeared. “Nice to meet you, Freddie,” he answered, revelling in the first time he properly got to say her name aloud. “I’m Rosie.” Belatedly, he wondered whether he should have introduced himself using his first name but the thought disappeared when Freddie smiled shyly, gazing at him from beneath her eyelashes.

“Rosie,” she repeated. “That’s a sweet name.”

Rosie smiled wider, brightening under the compliment. His eyes were stuck on the reappearance of her dimples. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, sure he was staring. “Comes from my last name - Rosenthal.”

Freddie nodded, then hastened to respond, “You don’t have to call me ‘ma’am’. Just Freddie is fine.” She shrugged one shoulder. “That’s how everyone knows me.”

“Alright,” Rosie conceded, trying not to smile too wide. “Freddie it is.”

He paused, searching desperately for something to say to keep her here for even a moment longer. He may as well have never had an interesting thought in his life. He could ask her about her German, about why she spoke it and whether she liked it, whether it caused her problems to speak a language so hated in England, but then he’d give away that he’d been eavesdropping. So maybe he could ask her about where she’d gone on leave. That seemed like a reasonable thing to reveal he knew about her, because he hadn’t seen her around before tonight.

“So, uh,” he began with a palpable degree of awkwardness. “They said you were on leave?”

“Yes,” Freddie confirmed, fiddling with the straw in her drink. “I went home for three days, to Oxford.”

Oxford. Rosie committed it to memory. Freddie Leroy, a German-speaking, lemonade-drinking wireless operator from Oxford.

“That must’ve been nice,” he told her. He hated how he suddenly had so very little to say. She must have thought he was so, so boring.

Mercifully, Freddie giggled, a sweet sound like the jingling of wind chimes. He could have melted. “Yes,” she replied again. “Yes, it was wonderful. Strange to be home, to be sure - I haven’t visited since Christmas - but it was especially lovely to see my dogs again. I don’t get any letters from them, see.”

Rosie chuckled lightly, nodding along with her, relieved at the release of the uncertainty. “Right,” he said. “They’re not big on writing letters, then?” Stupid joke, he chided himself, but inexplicably Freddie was grinning back at him.

“They’re dogs of few words,” she agreed with a short laugh.

“How many do you have?” he questioned next.

“Dogs?” Freddie wondered. “Two. The big one’s Bruno and the little one’s Earnie, both boys. A German Shepherd and a Westie.” Her eyes were all lit up, fond and excited, as she spoke about them, clearly imagining them in her mind’s eye.

Rosie was beaming at her. “What are they like?”

Freddie’s eyes glinted. “Trouble.”

“I always wanted a dog,” Rosie confided in her, even though it wasn’t entirely true. He had nothing against dogs and actually quite liked them, but he also hadn’t ever actually been truly interested in owning one - but he desperately wanted her to like him and she clearly adored her dogs, so it seemed a good place to start. “But where I’m from, in Brooklyn, we always lived in an apartment. No pets allowed.”

Freddie gasped. “That’s tragic.”

Rosie grinned. “I know. Someone oughta fix that rule.”

Freddie sipped on her lemonade, nodding, and her eyes found the floor.

Rosie took the opportunity to watch her, tapping his fingers against his glass of beer. She was so beautiful and she so clearly didn’t even know it. Even just looking at her made him feel like he was being bathed in sunlight.

Rosie opened his mouth to say something more - desperate to say something, anything, really, that might get her to smile again. Those dimples of hers - if he hadn’t signed up to go to war already he knew he would’ve enlisted just on their behalf. But whatever he was about to say never made it out. It was for the best, probably, since he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t have been something incredibly forward, some grand statement about her startling prettiness which she was bound to have heard a million times before.

Instead, he was swiftly cut off by Millie, returning from the bar with a pint of beer in each hand. “Fred, I got your beer, and you are going to like it, god damn it, even if I have to pour it down your throat myself.”

Freddie flushed and turned to Millie.

Rosie forced himself to turn to her too.

“Oh,” Freddie said. “I have lemonade,” she added after a beat.

Millie laughed, her eyes flicking between Freddie and Rosie. She looked absolutely made up about catching them together. “Is that right?” she teased. “And who do I have to blame for it?”

Rosie shared a secret smile with Millie and, in the answering, subtle shift of her shoulders which betrayed her silent laugh, he knew she’d received everything he’d been trying to communicate to her; that she’d been right, and he was nothing short of utterly infatuated with her best friend. “That would be me, ma’am,” he told her.

“Rosie,” Millie replied with a tut. “Now why would you do that? You’ll only encourage her!”

Rosie shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “I just figured war heroes should get to choose what they have to drink,” he answered, playing along, “otherwise what’s the point of being one?”

Millie laughed along with Rosie’s joke and neither of them noticed the soft exchange taking place right beside them between Freddie and Benny DeMarco. And, when they did, it was too late; Freddie was already on her way over to the Siberian husky Rosie had been informed in passing was DeMarco’s dog where he was lying beneath a chair at a vacant table. She lowered herself to the ground beside him and curled her fingers into the hair around the scruff of his neck, bowing her head towards his as she began to speak to him.

Rosie’s heart clenched once more - seized up, like a kettle about to whistle. With locks of soft, dark hair falling into her face and her eyelashes sweeping her cheeks as she looked down into the dog’s face, she could have been some kind of goddess bestowing wisdom and goodness onto her earthly subjects.

Rosie wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong. He’d actually thought the whole affair had been going a hell of a lot better than he’d predicted. But maybe he’d been silly to believe a girl like her might give him the time of day, naïve and optimistic. He didn’t tend to struggle with getting female attention, no, but she wasn’t just any girl.

His eyes sought Millie’s and she smiled sadly at him, shaking her head. “It wasn’t anything you said,” she reassured him, “or anything you did. You just need to be patient with our Fred.”

Patient. He could do that. He could be as patient as she needed him to be if it meant there was hope.

There was a conversation about Freddie continuing around him but Rosie paid it no mind. Instead, of their own accord his eyes found their way over to her again where she was still talking to the dog while she pet him. And something inside him coiled tight, an elastic band the instant before it was either let go or snapped. You, he thought, gazing across the room at her, you, you, you. He hadn’t been looking but he’d found her anyway, found it anyway.

He really had always known.

Suddenly, inexplicably, and largely against his will, Rosie started to smile.

Sorry, mom, he imagined himself writing in his next correspondence home, remember when I said I wouldn’t fall in love with a British girl?

Oops.

[astriiformes]

#how's it feel to be the child of the funniest person on earth?

I know this was definitely also rhetorical, but considering people in the notes are calling this one a heritage post, consider this an additional dose of My Dad Lore, aka a lot of other things he has pulled over the years

Somehow teamed up with his friends to get a fake person to pass driver's ed back in high school, which I know is not just a made-up or exaggerated dad story because someone wrote the name of the same fake person in his and my mom's wedding guest book

Once burned me a road trip CD for the drive home from college that turned out to consist of 21 "What's New Pussycat?"s and one (1) "It's Not Unusual"

Used to send me letters when I was away at summer camp about how everything at home was on fire, my sisters had gotten arrested, aliens had shown up, and various other crises -- one time entirely in verse

Forced his office to reset the "Days since our last shark attack" sign someone put up as a joke when he borrowed one of me and my sisters' toy plastic ones and stuck it on a coworker's chair

Had another coworker ask him to retrieve a wireless mouse they left at the office on a business trip and proceeded to send them photos of it in increasingly threatening scenarios (about to be crushed by a car, etc)

Teamed up with me to get a cake for my middle sister's graduation party with plastic dinosaurs on it that read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMMY" so it looked like there'd been a mix-up at the bakery

Anyways I can never tell him how popular this post is because it would require explaining more about my tumblr presence than I would like to, but rest assured, he is still out there and inflicting chaos on the world as we speak (partially in the form of his children, because we all ended up weird pranksters, too)

my dad just walked in, asked me “what do you get when you cross a joke with a rhetorical question?” and left

[jeraldnepoleon]

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The system’s ability to record each interaction and response time is invaluable for healthcare providers. Through data collection and reporting, facility administrators can analyze patient needs, response times, and staff performance, leading to better-informed staffing decisions and continuous improvements in patient care quality.

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Emergency Call Activation Patients activate the call for assistance by pressing the emergency button installed in their rooms or through the G-Health patient app on their mobile device. This call immediately notifies the nursing station, as well as the designated nursing staff, alerting them to the request.

Instant Notification and Prioritization Once a call is made, nurses receive instant notifications that specify the patient’s room and nature of the request. They can then prioritize their response according to the urgency level. This allows nurses to manage multiple patient needs effectively while ensuring that emergency calls receive top priority.

Verification and Documentation When the nurse arrives at the patient’s room, they can scan the QR code via the BSA app to confirm they have attended the call. This action documents the response time and care provided, which aids in maintaining accountability and optimizing patient care records.

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For Patients

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Reduced Anxiety: Quick access to emergency support gives patients peace of mind, reducing the stress associated with hospital stays.

For Healthcare Providers

Improved Workflow Efficiency: The system streamlines communication, reducing unnecessary movements and enabling staff to respond more efficiently.

Reduced Response Times: Nurses receive real-time notifications, allowing them to prioritize and address patient needs immediately.

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Implementing the Digital Nurse Calling System: Best Practices

To ensure a successful implementation of the Digital Nurse Calling System, consider the following best practices:

Staff Training and Onboarding: Comprehensive training is essential. Ensure that all staff members are familiar with using the system and understand how to operate both the G-Health patient app and the BSA app.

Patient Education: Educate patients about the system during their admission. Clear instructions on using the emergency switches and app features ensure that patients can use the system effectively and confidently.

Feedback Loop: Collect feedback from both patients and staff to identify areas for improvement and optimize the system’s use in real-time.

System Maintenance and Updates: Regular system maintenance, updates, and testing help prevent technical issues and ensure continuous, reliable service.

The Future of Patient Care with Digital Nurse Calling Systems

As healthcare technology continues to advance, the Digital Nurse Calling System is expected to integrate with other health monitoring devices and wearable technologies. These future innovations could include:

AI-Powered Alerts: Advanced systems could predict patient needs based on data patterns, proactively notifying nurses when a patient might require attention.

Wearable Integration: Devices that monitor patient vitals in real-time could automatically alert nurses if abnormalities are detected, reducing the need for manual calls in critical situations.

Voice-Activated Features: For patients with limited mobility, voice-activated calling options could make requesting assistance even more accessible.

Contact Us to Learn More

Our Digital Nurse Calling System is transforming patient support by providing a reliable, accessible solution for emergency response and patient care. To learn more about how our system can benefit your healthcare facility, reach out to us today:

📞 For Inquiries: +91 7356 78 9993, +91 8606 98 4841 📧 Email: grapeshms@gmail.com / sales@grapeshms.com 🌐 Visit: www.grapeshms.com

[atplblog]

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[medicaldevicedepot-usa]

Buy EKG Machine Online | Discover Top-Quality ECG Equipment at Medical Device Depot

When it comes to monitoring heart health, having the right tools is essential. At Medical Device Depot, we make it easy for healthcare professionals to buy EKG machines online and elevate their practice. Our extensive range of portable and wireless ECG machines features trusted brands known for their reliability and precision.

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In addition to top-tier electrocardiogram machines, we also offer a variety of EKG accessories and ECG add-ons. These tools are designed to streamline patient vitals tracking and improve the accuracy of heart condition diagnoses. Whether you’re using Welch Allyn ECG machines or Nasiff EKG machines, our equipment is compatible with both Windows and Mac systems, ensuring seamless integration into your existing workflow.

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[ktronicsglobal7]

Gsm-based wireless controller in Chennai - Ktronics Global

In Chennai, one company leading the charge in manufacturing high-quality GSM-based wireless controllers. In this blog, we explore why we are recognized as the best manufacturer of GSM-based wireless controllers in Chennai, how these devices function, their applications, and the many advantages they offer.

Why Choose KTRONICS Global?

1. Reputation for Quality

KTRONICS Global is among the Best Water Level Controller Manufacturing Company in Chennai. Water level indicators and controllers have been included in the top list of products manufactured here. Known for all its quality assurance, this company has manufactured products that are dependable, durable, and efficient. The GSM-based wireless controllers have been produced with advanced technology and thus are smooth and problem-free for varied applications.

2. Custom Solutions for Various Needs

Its customizing of GSM-based wireless controllers to a specific client's requirement is perhaps its high strength. Whether it is residential, commercial, or industrial, the company offers solutions that suit the customer's needs with flexibility and scalability.

3. Commitment to Customer Satisfaction

It boasts of its commitment to customer satisfaction. The company never compromises, right from product design to after-sales support, thus ensuring high-quality customer service for its end-users who get the most value out of its GSM-based wireless controllers.

What is a GSM-Based Wireless Controller?

GSM-based wireless control is dependent on the GSM network known as GSM for reaching and controlling electrical appliances at a distance. The commands for these controllers are sent over the network using mobile SIMs to make requests so that users can switch their appliances on and off using a request message or a call via mobile phone. The most interesting feature of the GSM-based controller is the convenience of turning on and off devices from any place when mobility coverage is available.

Applications of GSM-Based Wireless Controllers

1. Water Level Controllers

One of the most common applications of GSM-based wireless controllers is in water level management systems. In Chennai, where water scarcity and overflow issues are common, these controllers have become indispensable for managing overhead water tanks, sumps, and reservoirs.

Automatic Control of Water Pumps: The controller ensures that the water pump starts automatically when the water level is low and stops when the tank is full, preventing overflow and dry run.

Remote Access: Users can receive notifications on their phone when the tank is full or when there’s a fault in the system, offering peace of mind.

2. Irrigation Systems

Agriculture and irrigation are vital sectors in Chennai. GSM-based wireless controllers offer a smart solution for automating irrigation systems in farms and plantations.

Automated Irrigation: The controller can activate irrigation pumps based on preset schedules or moisture levels in the soil, ensuring efficient use of water.

Advantages of GSM-Based Wireless Controllers

Various advantages make GSM-based wireless controllers of KTRONICS Global the favorite product of customers in Chennai.

 1. Remote Monitoring and Access:

Another important advantage of GSM-based wireless controllers is their capability to control and monitor devices from anywhere. It is possible to access the system even while sitting at home, in the office, or even traveling, using only a mobile phone. All the updates and alerts are sent in real time and inform a person about the status of the connected devices.

2. Automation and Energy Savings:

GSM-based wireless controllers can make different functions automatic in their operations as they can switch water pumps and machinery on or off according to conditions already set. This automation saves time and energy; hence, the electricity bill decreases and also prolongs the service life of electrical components.

3. Cost-Effective Solution:

It designed their GSM-based controllers so that they can be very economical and affordable both for small-scale applications and large-scale applications. Their offerings are highly competitive, energy-saving, and appealing to households, industries, and commercial establishments.

4. Real-Time Notification Systems

Customers are well informed of any issue that has taken place in real-time with the use of real-time SMS or app notification systems. This could be due to any system failure or alert regarding water levels. The user will be notified at once to protect against any damage and to immediately act.

5. Easy Installation and a User-Friendly Interface

It has developed the simplest idea for their GSM-based wireless controller. The products are easy to install and have user-friendly interfaces, so they can be easily utilized by any type of user-from a homeowner to an industrial engineer.

6. Long Lasting and Reliable

Controllers are long-lasting and reliable. Being able to withstand all kinds of environmental conditions, the gadgets will ensure longevity and minimal maintenance when operating under really tough conditions.

Conclusion

It has an edge in Chennai as far as the benchmark of GSM-based wireless controllers is concerned. They feature advanced technology, superior quality, and exceptional customer service. The controllers have revolutionized automation by allowing users to have remote controlling and monitoring options over their systems that make life easier, more efficient, and cost-effective.

GSM-based wireless controllers can work to your advantage whether you want to automate water supplies to your home, manage industrial machinery, or improve the security of your premises. Truly a leader in the field with its proven track record and commitment to innovation, KTRONICS Global is undoubtedly Chennai's best manufacturer of GSM-based wireless controllers.