#ihq:self

[gail-hq-archive]

◖◖ headcanon. bring it all down so you can finally start over       tw: alcohol abuse       with special mention of @nataliechanghq @dianaxsmythe @therealstevee       @spencer-hq @casey-hq and a minor mention of @connorhq◗◗

► word count: 3881

Summary: Being the headstrong petulant brat that Gail Weston is, she didn’t let anyone tell her what to do; not even her own subconsciousness. So she did what she does best: hurting people.

It’s been two hours since Gail cracked her phone screen in a fit of rage and raided her own alcohol stash. Her mind had long been hazy, but still it wasn’t enough to get the incessant nagging thought of her mother out of her head. When she first broke out her bottles of vodka and various other liqueur, she had bothered with cups and tumblers, but after downing two bottles of whatever fancy stuff she had stowed away, she didn’t care much for propriety or whatever. It was peaceful and loud all at the same time. Gail sat on the floor next to her bed, staring distantly at her own white walls. How did everything get to this point? Does it matter? Does anything?

The sudden vibration from her phone sitting by her side shook Gail out of her spaced out moment. She squinted her eyes and checked the caller ID: Natalie. Panic and dread fills Gail, did she forget about some standing thing they might’ve had? Unable to think clearly, Gail picked up the call and tried her best to sound sober. 

“Hey Nat.” Yes, keeping it short and sweet. The less she talked the less chance Natalie will know she’s drunk.

“M’not feeling ‘kay.” Atta girl, she was so proud of herself for her enunciation. She was after all, first place for moot when she was still in law school. She’s practically nailing this phone call. 

“Wha-at?” Red Alert, Red Alert! Natalie sounded entirely too suspicious, did she blew her cover? Shit- shit. How did she know?! Gail cast a suspicious gaze around her, not trusting that there weren’t some ninja around her that’s reporting back to Natalie. 

“M’not slurring!” Denial of the charges, that’s right. She needed to establish a position first, and that’s she was not drunk. 

The opposition thought otherwise, but she wouldn’t give up without a fight. So while Natalie started to berate her about drinking in the broad daylight, she wracked her brain for a good defense, but all she could come up was:

“Fuck you, Nat!” Which followed by a swift thumbing of the red phone icon. Well, it wasn’t as swift as she’d like, Gail only fumbled with the phone for a second or two, but nobody’s keeping count.

Gail sat quietly for a moment, looking confusedly at her phone. Had she really just hung up on Natalie? Well, she started questioning her sobriety first, so really, she deserved it. But then in the middle of Gail’s alcohol driven mind, she realized that Natalie would most definitely come looking for her. And she’s basically a sitting duck in her apartment right now.

She tried to stand up quickly, only to regret it as a wave of nausea attacked her sense of balance. Once she’s regain more or less most of her faculties, she grabbed her phone and the bottle of Jack that she’s been drinking and ran out of her condo, albeit unstably due to her heels.

---

Gail wandered around the streets for a little while, she barely had the wits to pick up a straying paper bag to cover up her booze a few blocks ago. Where could she possibly go? She’s got no friends, Natalie doesn’t count because right now she’s being a giant pain in the butt butt. She’s got no real home, never had. All she had was her slowly draining Jack and a phone that’s been turned to silent when Natalie couldn’t take a fucking hint. A crack in the sidewalk made Gail tripped and stumbled in her step. Holding her hands out, her savior managed to keep her upright. Uninhibited, Gail gave a grimace that shouldn’t pass as a smile. “T’anks.” She mumbled, her breath reeking of alcohol. She tried to place her newly minted savior, Gail was sure she’s seen her before. From law school? From high school? No, no. Maybe from work? Yikes. 

Clearing her throat, Gail tried to stand on her own, only to stumble once again. This time she gave up and hang onto Diana. She seemed nice enough of a person, maybe she won’t be like Natalie ‘Snitching Mom’ Chang and start lecturing her on all the disadvantages of drinking.

“I know you,” Gail brought her index finger up and booped Diana’s nose, giggling the entire time. It was so funny! Her nose is meant for booping. 

“Did you know cats sleep 16 to 18 hours a day?” She said, interrupting whatever spiel Diana was going off on. Something about wanting to talk? Pffftt, does it look like Gail’s a talking type? Like sure, she argues for a living but otherwise, talking is like a big no no. Nuh uh. Non merci. 

Gail let Diana droned on and on about her own little past history and honestly, Gail was getting really bored of this conversation. There was a really pretty blue bird that just flew by and she wondered where it went... Maybe it got killed by a car, her thoughts drift to the dark side as easy as ABC. All pretty things tend to end up poorly. 

Finally, when Diana tried to reach for her bottle, Gail has had enough. “You’re killing my mellow, man.” With that said, Gail gave Diana a quick shove off to the side, not as effective as she hoped, but the fact that she hopped into a cab immediately after seemed to do the trick to get herself away from Diana. From the window, she could see the distressed face of the blonde and Gail sneezed at how positively face-contorting it looked.

---

Gail had just shouted at the cabbie to drive when she first got in, but the longer she sat in the back of this dubiously smelling cab, the less she wants to remain there. Pulling out her phone, she squinted and with some effort, she managed to call Kronk. She quickly barked out the name of her usual bar and then ordered him to meet her there in 5 minutes before hanging up just as abruptly. As the cab driver wasn’t made of brains, Gail had to repeat herself and their destination to him once more. 

It took Stevie an extra five minutes before he got to the bar and Gail had been sitting in the cab waiting for him all this time. When Stevie came running through the streets, Gail stepped out, not as gracefully as she normally would, but it can only be considered as such given the state she’s in; she stopped him with a hand on his arm and told him to pay the cab man. She didn’t stick around to look at Stevie’s baffled face and his reluctance in fishing out his wallet and paying the hefty bill, instead she walked purposefully into the establishment and took a seat by the bar. 

“Finally, that took you fooooorever.” Gail rolled her eyes when Stevie finally joined her. She poured them a few shots of vodka and glared at Stevie until he acquiesced. They sat together for a while, it was mainly Stevie talking. Which was a nice change of pace since normally it’s Gail telling him what to do and him delivering marginally acceptable results. She actually didn’t mind listening to Stevie talk, his voice wasn’t grating... yet. 

-- She spoke too soon. Not a minute after Gail thought she might finally be able to get some peace and drunkenness out of the night, Steven Kronk Evans opened his mouth and started nervously rambling about how Gail doesn’t look ‘alright’. What the hell does it even mean to be ‘alright’? 

“Shut your whore mouth, Kronk, nobody asked you to have an opinion.” Gail threw back harshly at Stevie’s concern. She’s not here for concern, she’s here for the alcohol, she’s here to drown herself as deep and as far as she can humanly tolerate. But if she was capable of being honest at that point, she knew she was beyond the point of no return. If she kept drinking the way she’s been drinking, either her liver will give out or she’ll need to be hospitalized for alcohol poisoning -- which the latter doesn’t seem so far fetched a possibility.

Stevie, not cluing into the the fact that Gail might not be in the mood to talk about anything, or maybe his balls finally dropped and he wanted to grow a spine for once, kept on. Gail didn��t want this, she didn’t ask for any of this, she didn’t want any of this. She just want everyone to shut up and for everything to be quiet. A small voice at the back of her head shouted This is what you want, you want someone to care. He cares. Let him.

Being the headstrong petulant brat that Gail Weston is, she didn’t let anyone tell her what to do; not even her own subconsciousness. So she did what she does best: hurting people.

“Oh fuck off, Steven. I only asked you here because though you can’t do anything right, you at least knew how to listen. Now it’s like you don’t even know how to do that. Is there anything you can do?” And since the knife isn’t embedded deep enough, Gail forged on.

“I should’ve just called your sister or brother, at least they look competent. Hell, a garbage man can do a better job than you right now.”

Turning her head away from Stevie, Gail ordered another glass of gin and told the bartender to leave the bottle. 

“Just get out of my sight, I don’t want to breathe around useless garbage.”

Gail didn’t pay any further attention to Stevie. She didn’t even know if he left right away or he lingered and looked at her with those sad beady little eyes that sometimes creep her out. All she knew was she finally had some silence to go with the gin. 

---

It must be closer to midnight at this point, and that would’ve meant Gail have been drinking on and off for about half a day. When Stevie left, she had the forethought to order something to eat, something chicken and greasy. It was a bad decision given how it almost immediately sobered her up. She washed the dinner down with gin. As time passed by, Gail had slowed down in her drinking. She only sipped at her drinks instead of knocking them back like a champ. 

She was so lost in the haze of nothingness that she didn’t even realized someone was calling her name until she felt someone shaking her. Unfocused, she lolled her head over to the figure next to her and hummed. 

“Wha..” She slurred off. There was a pretty cute guy looking at her, except he’s sporting one of those ugly worried expressions. She reached up with her hand and tried to smooth away the frown. It worked for a moment when he smiled, she smiled right back because who wouldn’t when a cute guy is smiling at you and holding you like that. 

She didn’t know what was going on but he said something to her, and she nodded. She nodded and her eyes fell closed on their own. She have been having trouble keeping her eyes open wide, and she was finally in a good spot. Her head was spinning so much, but at the same time she was floating... she felt like she was in the clouds -- or at least if she knew how it felt to the in the clouds, this would be it. She was weightless, as though nothing was tethering her to anything. She was free. 

Opening her eyes, Gail saw the cute guy pay off her tab. Pretty and rich. She hummed happily, she would gladly sleep with this guy, she decided. Through the haze of the alcohol, she managed to catch his name: Spencer. It sounded familiar, but nothing popped out at Gail. So it must be fine. Spencer, the cutie, helped her up and out of the stool and walked her to his car -- or so she presumes. It’s too shiny and smelled too nice for it to be a cab. The whole car ride took too long and also not long enough for Gail. But the moment they got out of the car, Gail was all over him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulder as she leaned up to kiss him. She had the alcohol, and now she wants the regrettable sex. 

Gail’s attempt to jump Spencer’s bones in the hallway was only half successful as she was repeatedly pushed away in favor of walking, of all things, by Spencer. It took yet another forever and a day before they were behind what Gail supposed to be Spencer’s apartment. In her haste, she didn’t gave her surrounding a clear look, for if she did, she would realize that she was back to the IHQ campus or at least recognize the layout of the apartment. Now that they were in an enclosed space, Gail tried once again to fuck Spencer. Try being the operative word. He kept pushing her and stopping her at every other kiss, won’t let her take off his clothes, and certainly won’t let her take off her own clothes. 

Straddling his lap, Gail looked beautifully angry. With arms resting on his shoulder, she huffed.

“Are you gay? Is that it?” She flipped her hair away off and over her shoulder. His denial of her statement caused her to be even more frustrated. 

“So what’s wrong? Isn’t this why you brought me back here?” 

Yet another stuttering denial.

At that point Gail was tired, tired of playing these stupid games with stupid boys. She pushed herself off of Spencer and plopped down onto the couch. She then asked him if he had more alcohol. When the response she got was a worried look and pursed lips, Gail grumbled and crossed her arms in defiance. Spencer tried to pry her with a warm hand on her thigh and soft spoken words, but none of that would ever work. Finally, Gail look stock of where she is and realized that if she stayed here any longer, she might end up committing homicide and suicide. Gail gauged the distance between her and the front door, thanks to the fact that they were stumbling and making out the whole time coming in, it wasn’t locked, and she was still close enough to make a run for it. So Gail switched tactics, she sighed deeply before turning to smile sweetly at Spencer, asking if he could actually bring her some water - just so she can start the process of sobering up.

Gail waited like a cheetah readying to strike, the moment Spencer’s silhouette disappears behind the kitchen wall, she made a run for it. Without her heels, Gail managed to escape the would-be prison with big success. She heard a distant yelling of her name but by that time, Gail had already slammed the door behind her and ran down the stairs. Adrenaline can do wonders, especially for someone who is entirely inept at anything sportive like Gail. 

--- 

Still, Gail had her limits -- especially physical ones. She only managed to go as far as the front door where she promptly fell onto her ass panting like a dying zebra. Glaring at the blond doorman and barking at him to mind his own damn business, Gail fished out her phone from her bra. She scrolled all the way down to ‘C’ and selected Connor’s name. At least he wouldn’t rat her out to Natalie or do anything untoward... or maybe she could even convince him to have sex with her again. That certainly seemed like a good idea at the time. 

‘im diwnstsirs cm ppixk mr up’ 

So maybe her texting abilities weren’t topnotch right now, but she thought she did pretty well, all things considered. Firing it off, she hid off to the side of the entrance where she kept her glare on the ugly doorman, not trusting him to not do anything fishy. It only took minutes, but it felt like hours to Gail, for someone to come bouncing down and opening the door behind her. Gail was about to berate Connor for his tardiness when she looked up and found that it was decidedly not Connor who’s standing there.

“You’re not ugly Connor.” She deadpanned. 

Nope, it was Casey bloody Rose.

Gail was tired, her feet are sore, her back hurts, her head is spinning and she’s suddenly lost sight of what she wanted anymore. So when Casey took Gail’s hands into hers and invited her up, Gail did nothing but allowed herself to be led like a child. 

The trek up to Casey’s place was slow, but it was... nice. She stared confusingly at their joined hands and wondered why it felt so nice to hold hands with someone. Once they were behind Casey’s apartment door, she settled Gail at the couch before going off somewhere. Gail opted to sit on the floor and leaned back against the foot of the couch. She cooed over Nala, who came sniffling at her the moment she sat down. While she still felt like she was floaty and all around unstable, the dog helped make Gail feel a little less spun out of control. Or wasn’t that what she wanted? To be out of control? To feel nothing? To not be tethered? Gail frowned and tried to make sense of her head. 

Movement at the corner of her eye took a while to register, but when it did, Gail looked up from Nala’s resting form on her thighs to meet Casey’s eyes. The blonde looked at her so gently, like any sudden movement and Gail would be flying off and out of the apartment. There’s still worry, but it wasn’t as suffocating as when everyone else looked at her. 

Gail beckoned for Casey to approach. She was so pretty... Gail had thought that when she saw Marley in that bar, and again when she saw Casey when she was a ball of anger rushing towards her. The Rose sisters were undeniably beautiful, but Casey was a conundrum. She’s so happy and silly all the time that it’s hard to imagine her ever being anything but -- but Gail does. Gail knows exactly how her face contorts prettily with rage, and how all that disappears into regret and worry. Casey’s face was extremely expressive... and Gail has the biggest crush on it.

When Casey was close enough, Gail reached out and tugged at her arm. She leaned up and captured Casey’s lips into hers. Her lips were soft but unmoved. And almost instantly, Gail felt hands on her shoulders gently pushing her off. She looked up, scared and crushed at the same time, fearing that Casey would yell at her, shouting for her to leave. No, she needed to leave. She needed to leave before history repeated itself and left Gail with the broken pieces again. Gail scrambled to get up and the whole time she mumbled her apologies and other incoherent things. 

She could barely step past Casey before she was stopped. Gail looked at Casey’s hand on her arm but didn’t lift her gaze to meet the blonde’s. Casey said in no uncertain terms that she didn’t want Gail to leave. Gail stood there for a moment before muttering that she needed to use the washroom. 

Shut behind her little temporary safe haven, Gail padded over to the sink and stood in front of the mirror. She hated what she saw in the mirror, she hated everything about it. All she could see is everything that’s gone wrong, that’s gone bad. She was rotten. Flipping open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, she found a small pair of scissors and a razor. For a split second, her hand hovered over the razor as thoughts ran through her mind. It was too dark, even for her, so instead she reached for the scissors. 

Closing the cabinet, she was faced with the abomination that is Gail Weston again. Everything about her is in order. Everything about her was planned. She was just her mother’s glorified barbie doll. She didn’t own a single part of her body, not her looks, not her life, not anything. Gail grabbed her hair into a ponytail and in a few chops, she cut off a good 7 inches off of her hair, leaving them fall shortly below her shoulders. She didn’t really comprehend what she had done until she was staring at a fistful of hair. She suddenly found herself sinking to the floor, her knees were too weak to support her weight any further. Gail let the pair of scissors fall clattering off to the side as she continued to stare at her handful of hair. 

The clattering of the scissors was probably what drew Casey to check up on her, or maybe it was the sheet amount of time Gail was in the washroom and the distinct lack of water running that clued her in. But either way, Gail only noticed Casey had came into the bathroom when she was kneeling in front of her, with a hand over hers. 

Gail looked up from her fistful of hair to Casey. She opened her mouth and closed it multiple times before she knew what to say.

“I cut it all off.”

“All the bad things,” 

“It’s all gone now.”

“It’s all gone.” Gail’s voice hitched at words. One tear, then two, then it was as though the floodgate had opened. The sobs started to pour out of Gail the moment Casey wrapped her arms around Gail and pulled her into her embrace. On one hand, Gail held tightly onto the chopped up hair and the other clung onto the front of Casey’s shirt like a lifeline. Gail sobbed and cried and screamed. It was as though she was finally letting herself cry after years of suppression. Gail cried without abandon and she did it all while Casey held onto her.

After a long while, after Gail’s cries dwindled down to sniffles, Casey took care of the mess and led Gail to bed where she was told with certainty that she wasn’t going to move an inch until Gail had fallen asleep. It took some time, but soon the exhaustion from crying and the enormous amount of alcohol she had consumed finally took over her. 

---

The next morning, Gail woke up with the headache of the century as the memories from the day before washes over her like a tidal wave. Gail, with great force and effort, managed to tear herself out of the bed where Casey was now sleeping soundly, and made her way out of the apartment. She couldn’t possibly stay there and face Casey, not when she practically violated her autonomy and forced herself on her. That was before she made a huge mess of herself crying like a baby in front of her. No, this won’t do at all. 

She’ll need time away from all of this, from everything and everyone -- and the best place to do that is to retire back to the gigantic emptiness that is her condo, where all this shit began.

[alipucks-blog]

WHAT (AND I CAN NOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH) THE FUCK!?: part two of two

WHO: Aliyah Puckerman (feat. @puckmanhq & @berrytobias )

WHAT: the actual story of what happened that night

WHERE:  Toby and Aliyah's place

WHEN: June 28, 2019 @ 1:52am

WHY: because Aliyah was woken up and would have been way more pissed if Puck and Toby hadn’t been so God damn entertaining

What the fuck is going on? Something that sounded a bit like Post Malone’s Sunflower was sounding through her room . As she hazily rose from her almost slumber, her feet dragged along her floor as she moved, feeling around, refusing to give in and turn on a light. As she was becoming more aware she noticed the song was becoming louder, yet not clearer as she moved closer to her door. Noticing the light shining underneath, she got ready to tell the neighbors to shut up as she opened her door. Unfortunately, the sight she was met with almost alerted her into a fucking heart attack.

Stood before her was her dumbass clearly drunk brother in the worst striped underwear she’d ever seen. When he saw her he began singing Wind Beneath My Wings. Peaking her head out more she wondered, how the fuck is Toby sleeping through this? Why the fuck is my loudest brother still here? and last but certainly not least, since when could he legit sing?

“Sing another word and I’ll make sure you’re left with a face only good enough for radio.” Suddenly she noticed more movement. “Fucking move.” She said and to his credit he did move, even if he hadn’t stopped singing. 

Immediately upon seeing her actual favorite person, in a state of undress she fucking knew, he was drunk too. “Oh Toto, no, not you too. Fucking betrayed, dude, not cool.” Honestly, how was shesuppose to control Puck in this state he was literally bouncing around like a 90′s rubber ball and apparently had been a hype man for Toby who shameless smiling at him like this shit was normal and they weren’t drunk. 

“:Just havin’ a blasty blasy, Al, and the AC doesn’t exsit and--” Then he just started moving. Was he holding a phone? Was it recording. 

Walking over to her best friend she plucked it out of his hand and was kind of pleased it was, A) Puck’s phone and B) recording. Quickly she stopped the video so she could send it to herself before hitting record and handing it back to Toby. “Good Boy.” 

Suddenly there was a woosh of fabric flying by her face, landing on Toby’s foot which he just laughed at and Aliyah without taking a proper look at what had been thrown turned around and was met wit a fully nude Puck singling Sweet Child Of Mine while living his best nude air guitar life. With the quickest turn around ever, she ran to Toby and used him to balance herself as she pulled one of her socks off and throwing it at Puck. “I’m gonna kill you both and I’m keeping this.” She said snatching Puck’s phone out of Toby’s hand.

“You’re a fucking buzzkill anyone ever tell you that?” Puck said way too damn loud, at least he wasn’t singing anymore. Turning to look at Toby as she heard him snort she saw he was point at Puck, smiling, “He’s got a sock on his thingy.” Thank fuck it’s covered, was all Aliyah could think. Somehow they ended up on the same side of the room as she was poking around on Puck’s phone and before she knew it she looked over and it looked like they’d tripped over each other and just... fallen asleep. Taking a picture of their already drooling selves with her own phone, she sent it to Toby with the message; this is why I rebuke heathens from our lives. Then to Puck with a slightly more serious message; stop drinking, you’re someone’s father.

After sending out a few way too forward texts and taking over his twitter and insta, she threw the phone at him and watched as it hit his leg. Exhaling she went over to the fridge and took out their half gone bottle of Orange Juice and drank the rest, because she knew that shit was like the base of Puck’s cure to a hangover. Leaving a charming note saying, ‘FUCK YOU.’ on it. Looking at the time she was ten kinds of pissed and ended up leaving the room the same way she had two hours ago. Middle fingers up as she disappeared back into her bedroom. “Assholes”

[mjrhq]

DATE&TIME: August 9, evening

LOCATION: Rutherford home, Austin, TX

WARNINGS: Nope

Micah hadn’t been home since Christmas break. It wasn’t that he hadn’t talked to or Facetimed with his parents, but he was supposed to have been home all summer. Working, probably, in between semesters at the University of Georgia. But after letting himself fail all of his classes and then opting to drop out all together, escaping to Los Angeles had been easier than dealing with any repercussions face-to-face. His parents weren’t difficult to please, weren’t stuck in their ways enough to not respect a gap year or time off to “find his way.” But he was pretty sure they weren’t happy about how he’d done it. But this celebration wasn’t about him. His parents deserved to have all their kids home for their big day.

Mia had offered the co-pilot seat in her roadtrip home, which wasn’t a terrible idea. But when it also meant a week at home, Micah opted to fly instead. In on Friday, out on Monday. Celebrate and leave. Less time for questions. Avoidance was turning into quite the skill for him, and he casually wondered if there was a way to turn that into a career. But walking through the front door was reminder enough of what he’d clearly forgotten. You can always come home.

“The boy does remember his address!” Daniel called out in greeting, part of back through the house to his wife. Micah felt himself pulled into an embrace, a strong hand clapping him on the back. “Was beginning to think you forgot where home was.”

Micah chuckled a little, there was no malice in his dad’s voice, a hint of concern, perhaps, but mostly a gentle tease he’d come to expect from the man.

“All those new followers are going to his head,” Annabelle supplied, pushing her husband out of the way to get her turn at squeezing her youngest son and press a loud muah against his cheek. “With all that Hollywood glam, who would want to come home?”

“Influencers is hardly Hollywood, though there is a yacht party this weekend,” he mused, realizing that might blur the lines of whether or not that took away any glam. “Anyway, the point is, this is your big weekend, and I wouldn’t miss it, not for the world.”

“Maybe we’ll hold our next big party at a university and get you to show up,” his dad offered with a wink. There it was. They’d be good sports about it, but it wouldn’t go unsung. Micah knew there were dues to pay for what he’d done. 

“Make it another thirty and, I promise, I’ll show up there too,” Micah assured, his turn to tease. “Come on, let me make you a drink and we’ll get to celebrating. I’ve been working on something special just for this weekend.”

His parents both grumbled something of an agreement, and they all headed towards the kitchen. Micah’s bags and the topic of his schooling left at the door. Maybe avoidance would continue to work after all.

[gail-hq-archive]

◖◖ headcanon. ding dong the witch is here◗◗

word count: 605

Gail had no idea what day her mother would be arriving. No time, no date, nothing. She just knew that she’ll be coming this week. Which to be fair, isn’t all that surprising because even if she knew, Elaine Weston operates only on her own schedule, and she delighted in catching people by surprise. Which, after taking into consideration of Natalie’s genius advice, Gail managed to overbook herself for the entire week. From morning at nine (which, normally, she would never set foot into the office until 10, so this shows just how dedicated Gail is to avoiding her mother) until well into the night, sometimes ending at nine, Gail didn’t leave the office, or if she did, she made sure to double and triple check with her assistant that they will, under no circumstances, even by threat of death and unemployment, disclose her location to anyone named Elaine Weston. 

So here she was, eating her lunch at a cozy little diner down the road where she knew her mother would never deigned to set foot in, or so she thought. Gail was engrossed in watching a cat video on her phone when a shadow loomed over her, blocking the lights. She had insults readied as she lifted her gaze from her device, only to land onto her mother’s face. With her mouth slightly gaping, she stared horrified. 

“You’re not a fish, Abigail, do close your mouth before a bug flies into it.” Gail snapped her jaw shut and swallowed nervously. What in the nine circles of hell’s name is she doing here? 

“Mother.” She said tersely as Elaine peered down at the chair in front of her. Her mother  pursed her lips in disdain before sitting gingerly on the seat opposite to Gail. “How.. did you find me?” Gail made a face, mentally making a list of all the people who could’ve ratted her out to the devil.

Elaine, of course, ignored the question and started a diatribe against everything that Gail is: from her hair being too short and too manly, to her job being too plebeian and a waste of time, and let’s not forget the part where Gail is clearly slumming it with the poor and uneducated instead of making connections with people who could help her advance in her work. Gail could barely get a word in edgeways. Firstly, she wasn’t anywhere ready to confront her mother, about anything. Secondly, even if she was prepared, all the fight in her would be all sucked away by now. So, with nothing left to lose, Gail resigned herself to being berated like a child, knowing that this time nobody could save her until Elaine deigned to finish.

It was only until her mother decided for the both of them that Gail should quit her job at this frivolous company and rejoin her in DC that she spoke up, fervently, that she was not going to go back to DC no matter what. She would sooner disgrace the Weston name than to return to the lifeless city. Not wanting to make a scene, Elaine tabled the topic for another time citing that as Gail cannot bestir herself to her own professional future, then she’ll have to take up Gail’s personal life. No daughter of hers will be seen with some undeserving tradesman, or worse, become a spinster. 

With all that said and done, storm Elaine left the premise just as swiftly as it came blowing in, leaving Gail blinking blankly at the seat in front of her, trying to make sense of what had just happened -- what she had just agreed to. 

[gail-hq-archive]

◖◖ headcanon. the worst of days... except the worst is yet to come        tw: alcohol abuse, with special mention of @connorhq◗◗

► word count: 538

Gail was having the worst of all worst days.

First, she woke up a whole half hour before her alarm, all because of fucking Connor. Like why is it so hard for him to be considerate of the other person living in this apartment? Why does he have to do this every single fucking day, would it kill him if he walk a little quieter? Irritated from the get go, she picked up her purse and things and stormed out of his place. She had the choice then, to either go back to her own apartment or she could just head to the office and freshen up there. Not wanting to drive or be reminding of exactly how empty her home is, she opted for the latter. 

So since things started out horrible, it’s only right for it to continue throughout the rest of her day. Her computer flaked out on her in the middle of a draft, like she was fucking 14 pages in. She jabbed angrily at the keyboard before pushing it out of her way in a big huff. So while IT was fixing her computer, she decided she might as well go for a walk for fresh air. Which meant Gail found herself sitting by the bar on campus, ordering a margarita. She was half way done with her second one when someone bumped into her elbow and made her spill the remaining content onto her newly laundered blouse. Cursing out loud, she immediately gave the offender a good tongue lashing. 

Grumbling about her soiled shirt, she had no choice but to go home and get changed since there’s still half a work day left to go and her assistant is on their lunch break. So of fucking course, the moment she stepped foot in her big empty apartment, her phone would ring out the E.T. theme song, the ringtone she had set for her brother. Gail, in her fog of anger, decided to ignore the call, which in hindsight, was the wrong move to make considering how her brother rarely calls her on the phone. It was only seconds after the ringtone stops that the Imperial March blared out from her phone’s speaker. It stopped Gail dead in her track, with her arms up in the air and her new shirt half tucked down. She felt a cold something run up her spine and dread filled her entire being. 

The whole phone call took 5 minutes. 

It then took Gail another minute to call in sick to the office. 

Because she was coming to LA. 

In a fit of frustration and anger, Gail threw her phone onto the ground and yelled out loud. Running her hands roughly through her hair, Gail’s only thought now was to get blind fucking drunk. There’s nothing that can prepare her for the impending doom, and nothing can fix whatever shit storm her mother will heave upon her. The only thing she can do is to forget about it until it happens, and the only way she can forget about it is to drown everything else out with alcohol. 

It was probably not her smartest idea, drinking alone in her apartment and on an empty stomach, but who actually cares? 

[gail-hq-archive]

◖◖ headcanon. gail gets through her days with a little help from her new bestfriends        tw: alcohol abuse◗◗

► word count: 422

It’s been weeks. How many? Gail couldn’t tell you, but it’s definitely been weeks... Or something close. 

It’s just another Tuesday, so really, who cares how long it has been?  Time is just a social construct and she’s free to do whatever the hell she wants without asking for anyone’s permission. 

So there she was, sitting by the bar again... but not the campus bar, for goodness’ sake. She’d never be caught dead at the campus bar, not since last time she ran into Erin Hudson. She didn’t want to see, communicate, think, or even be around the people at work. She wanted to get away... but at the same time she didn’t want to leave. She could leave right now, catch the first flight back to DC and never have to think about LA ever again. But Gail forced herself not to think about that, she doesn’t want to think about moving, flying, or anything other than drinking. 

Drinking is fun, drinking is nice. Jameson treats her right, Patron burns the unsavoury thoughts out of her brain, JD and Don Julio are practically her new family now. She doesn’t need to be told what to do, she’s an independent woman who can make her own way in life. So she may be a little clueless and aimless but that doesn’t mean she’s useless. 

Shots after shots, after shots, after shot... The more she drinks, the less she thinks, and the less she thinks, the less she feels. She could be fun. She’s not uptight. She’s not a violent bitch, and most definitely she’s not a freaking imbecile. Gail Weston was a lawyer, is a lawyer. She’s the best of the best and she is more than capable of proving it. 

Fuck everyone. She’s great. She’s fun to be around. She’s smart. She’s a little crazy, but in the fun way. She could be a mess sometimes. She might say the wrong thing a lot. She doesn’t know how to communicate her emotions. She’s brash. She’s bratty. She’s made a lot of mistakes. She’s a bother. She’s never someone’s first choice. She’s not good enough.

... Maybe that’s enough for tonight. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling, she never could. The first few times Gail tried, but she knew it’s pointless. She’ll never amount to anything, and this is her punishment. She wears a mask of indifference during the day, and by night, she drowns herself to numb all the pain. 

Maybe she’s not so different from her mother after all.