#present but eventually past callie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carpexdiemm05 · 8 months ago

Text

Never After (SGE x Reader) - Chapter 1

Also read on Wattpad!

Foreword

Just a quick A/N before you get started:

1. This story is NOT edited as of January 2023

2. I don't own SGE plot or characters

3. Some lore is used from Lost Boy by Christina Henry

4. Description is taken straight from Soman Chainani's work

5. Will be based on SGE books 1-6

6. Characters are aged up to 18+

Enjoy!

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

Tonight, the children of Gavaldon writhed in their beds. Each knew that if the School Master took them, they'd never return. Never lead a full life. Never see their family again. Tonight, the children of Gavaldon dreamed of a red-eyed thief with the body of a beast, come to rip them from their sheets and stifle their screams.

Not that I cared. I was indifferent to the whole thing. In my eyes, it was simple—those taken had the ability to transform their lives into ones worthy of the fairy tales we readers devour here in Gavaldon. And if they didn't, well, that was on them. The School for Good and Evil was just another opportunity for some. Fate was what you made it.

I inhaled deeply. From my position on the roof, I could feel the morning breeze much clearer than had I been sitting on the ground instead. I always liked being in high places. It made me feel relaxed. Detached from the rest of the world. Free, even.

My nose scrunched when aromas of rose and cucumber curled beneath it. A glance at the cemetery gates revealed Sophie, dressed in pink like always, pushing them open. She made her way across the dark tombstones and decaying branches that decorated Graves Hill until she reached the porch steps.

It was then that I slid off the roof, landing right in front of the girl.

She screamed and stumbled backwards. Upon hearing my laugh, however, she regained her composure and scowled. "Y/n."

I shrugged, grinning. "Sorry."

She sighed and brushed imaginary dirt from the front of her dress with one hand, the other clutching a basket. "Is Aggie home?"

"Yes, Agatha is inside," I said pointedly.

Reaper chose this moment to slink across the front porch, stopping right at the doormat. Sophie shrank back.

I rolled my eyes and lightly kicked him along. "Move, cat. You're in our way." After I had a clear path, I rapped on the door.

"Go away," came a gruff voice.

"Agatha, it's me."

"Oh. Sorry. I thought it was Sophie coming by for another visit." The door swung open, revealing a girl with a dome of black hair in a hulking black dress. Her bulging ladybug eyes narrowed when she spotted the blonde behind me.

"And you would be correct," I said, smiling bitterly.

I never really. . .liked Sophie. I didn't dislike her, really, either. She was just rather annoying sometimes. When I was in her company, more often than not I found myself subject to complaints of anything and everything.

Some might call me insane, but I preferred being around Agatha. She didn't talk of shallow things and, when you got to know her, you'd find her to be quite funny.

Besides, I was around her all day, what with me being her adoptive sister and all. I didn't really know much about myself besides what Callis told me—I was left on her doorstep as a baby with a note telling her my name and nothing else.

The click of Sophie's heels dragged me back to the present. "I thought we'd all go for a walk," she said.

Agatha leaned against the door. "I'm still trying to figure out why you're friends with us."

"Because you're both sweet and funny."

"My mother says Y/n's bitter and I'm grumpy," said Agatha, "So one of you is lying."

She reached into Sophie's basket and pulled back the napkin to reveal dry, butterless bran biscuits. Agatha gave Sophie a withering stare and retreated into the house.

"So we can't take a walk?" Sophie asked.

Agatha started to close the door but then paused. I could see the gears turning in her head.

Eventually she sighed. "A short one." Agatha trudged past us both. "But if you say anything smug or stuck-up or shallow, I'll have Reaper follow you home."

Sophie ran after her. "But then I can't talk!"

After four years, the dreaded eleventh night of the eleventh month had arrived. In the late-day sun, the square had become a hive of preparation for the School Master's arrival. The men sharpened swords, set traps, and plotted the night's guard, while the women lined up the children and went to work. Handsome ones had their hair lopped off, teeth blackened, and clothes shredded to rags; homely ones were scrubbed, swathed in bright colors, and fitted with veils. Mothers begged the best-behaved children to curse or kick their sisters, the worst were bribed to pray in the church, while the rest in line were led in choruses of the village anthem: "Blessed Are the Ordinary."

Fear swelled into a contagious fog. In a dim alley, the butcher and blacksmith traded storybooks for clues to save their sons. Beneath the crooked clock tower, two sisters listed fairy-tale villain names to hunt for patterns. A group of boys chained their bodies together, a few girls hid on the school roof, and a masked child jumped from bushes to spook his mother, earning a spanking on the spot. Even the homeless hag got into the act, hopping before a meager fire, croaking, "Burn the storybooks! Burn them all!" But no one listened and no books were burned.

Agatha gawped at all this in disbelief. "How can a whole town believe in fairy tales?"

"Because they're real," Sophie said.

Agatha stopped walking. "You can't actually believe the legend is true."

"Of course I do," said Sophie.

"That a School Master kidnaps two children, takes them to a school where one learns Good, one learns Evil, and they graduate into fairy tales?"

"Sounds about right."

"Tell me if you see an oven."

"Why?"

"I want to put my head in it. And what, pray tell, do they teach at this school exactly?"

"Well, in the School for Good, they teach boys and girls like me how to become heroes and princesses, how to rule kingdoms justly, how to find Happily Ever After," Sophie said. "In the School for Evil, they teach you how to become wicked witches and humpbacked trolls, how to lay curses and cast evil spells."

"Evil spells?" Agatha cackled. "Who came up with this? A four-year-old?"

"Well, the faces of the missing Gavaldon children illustrated in the storybooks is evidence enough for me," I chimed in.

"I don't see anything, because I don't read dumb storybooks."

"Then why is there a stack by your bed?" I asked.

Agatha scowled. "Look, who's to say the books are even real? Maybe it's the bookseller's prank. Maybe it's the Elders' way to keep children out of the woods. Whatever the explanation, it isn't a School Master and it isn't evil spells."

"So who's kidnapping the children?" Sophie asked.

"No one. Every four years, two idiots sneak into the woods, hoping to scare their parents, only to get lost or eaten by wolves, and there you have it, the legend continues."

"That's the stupidest explanation I've ever heard."

"I don't think I'm the stupid one here," Agatha said.

Sophie clenched her fists. "You're just scared."

"Right," Agatha laughed. "And why would I be scared?"

"Because you know you're coming with me."

Agatha stopped laughing.

"Either you or Y/n."

My gaze moved past Sophie into the square. The villagers were staring at us like the solution to a mystery. Good in pink, Evil in black. The School Master's perfect pair.

But who knew which of the witches were to be left behind.

"No," I said, shaking my head, aiming for nonchalance. "We're not close enough to either of the two extremes to be taken."

"Let's go," said Agatha.

I turned. Her eyes were locked on the mob.

"Where?"

"Away from people."

***

As the sun weakened to a red orb, three girls, one beautiful, one ugly, and one in between, sat side by side on the shore of a lake. Sophie packed cucumbers in a silk pouch, while I flicked lit matches into the water.

Sophie threw me a look.

"What? It relaxes me," I said.

Sophie shook her head and tried to make room for the last cucumber. "Why would anyone want to stay here? Who would choose this over a fairy tale?"

"And who would choose to leave their family forever?" Agatha snorted.

"Except me, you mean," said Sophie.

We fell silent.

"Do you ever wonder where your father went?" Sophie asked.

"I told you," Agatha said. "He left after I was born."

"But where would he go? We're surrounded by woods! To suddenly disappear like that . . ." Sophie spun. "Maybe he found a way into the stories! Maybe he found a magic portal! Maybe he's waiting for you on the other side!"

"Or maybe he went back to his wife and pretended I never happened."

I chuckled. "And maybe he's with my dad, warning him never to go back to Gavaldon unless he wants to reclaim the bitter child he abandoned here."

Sophie bit her lip and went back to cucumbers. "Callis is never at home when I visit."

"She goes into town now," said Agatha. "Not enough patients at the house. Probably the location."

"I'm sure that's it," Sophie said. "I don't think a graveyard makes people all that comfortable."

"Graveyards have their benefits," Agatha said. "No nosy neighbors. No dropin salesmen. No fishy 'friends' bearing face masks and diet cookies, telling you you're going to Evil School in Magic Fairy Land." She flicked a match with relish.

Sophie put down her cucumber. "So I'm fishy now."

"Who asked you to show up? Y/n and I were perfectly fine alone."

"You always let me in."

"Because you always seem so lonely," said Agatha. "And I feel sorry for you."

"Sorry for me?" Sophie's eyes flashed. "You're lucky that someone would come see you when no one else will. You're lucky that someone like me would be your friend. You're lucky that someone like me is such a good person."

"I knew it!" Agatha flared. "We're your Good Deeds! Just pawns in your stupid fantasy!"

Sophie didn't say anything for a long time.

"Maybe I became your friend to impress the School Master," she confessed finally. "But there's more to it now."

"Because I found you out," Agatha grumbled.

"Because I like you guys."

I flicked another match.

"No one understands me here," Sophie said, looking at her hands. "But you two do. You see who I am. That's why I kept coming back. You're not my good deed anymore, Agatha. Y/n." Sophie gazed up at us. "You're my friends."

I cocked my head at her declaration, pleasantly surprised.

Agatha's neck flushed red.

"What's wrong?" Sophie frowned.

Agatha hunched into her dress. "It's just, um . . . I—I'm, uh . . . not used to friends."

Sophie smiled and took her hand. "Well, now we'll all be friends at our new school."

Agatha groaned and pulled away. "Say I sink to your intelligence level and pretend to believe all this. Why is either Y/n or I going to villain school? Why has everyone elected us the Mistresses of Evil?"

"No one says you're evil, Agatha," Sophie sighed. "You're just different."

Agatha narrowed her eyes. "Different how?"

"Well, for starters, you two only wear black."

"Because it doesn't get dirty."

"You don't ever leave your house."

"People don't look at me there."

"For the Create-a-Tale Competition, Y/n's story ended with Snow White eaten by vultures and Cinderella drowning herself in a tub."

"I thought it was a better ending," I defended.

"Agatha gave me a dead frog for my birthday!"

"To remind you we all die and end up rotting underground eaten by maggots so we should enjoy our birthdays while we have them. I found it thoughtful."

"Agatha, you dressed as a bride for Halloween."

"Weddings are scary."

Sophie gaped at her.

"Fine. So I'm a little different," Agatha glared. "So what?"

Sophie hesitated. "Well, it's just that in fairy tales, different usually turns out, um . . . evil."

"You're different, too, Sophie," I said. "You dress like the fair maiden in a fairytale. You spend hours grooming yourself. You act as if you're already the princess of some faraway kingdom even though the closest you've gotten to going anywhere else outside this village is tasting the berries collected from the forest."

Sophie didn't say anything for a long time. My gaze softened. "Why is it you want to leave here so badly? That you'd believe in stories you know aren't true?"

Sophie met my gaze.

"Because I can't live here," Sophie said, voice catching. "I can't live an ordinary life."

The tenor-tolled clock sang darkly in the valley.

I stared at the blonde for a moment longer. Then I stood, dusted off my pants, and headed home, wanting to get this night over with.

#school for good and evil #school for good and evil x reader #sophie #agatha #reader #x reader #reader insert #soman chainani #hort #hester #anadil #dot #tedros #rafal

4 notes · View notes

withswiftieness · 4 months ago

Text

'well, y'aint that far off.' rogue glances over at logan for a moment, sharing a knowing glance with him, before she returns to whatever task it was that she is doing. logan was unaware that she had completed her schooling for this, unaware that she had even returned to the mansion while he was out hunting for victor, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn't happy to see a friendly face after the way things had been before. the last time he'd been at the mansion there had been a terrible fight between himself and the others, especially storm, when they'd refused to help him hunt down victor. some things had been said on both sides that cut deep and were regretted, and while it wasn't the first time, or the last, logan had still wondered if he would be as easily welcomed back this time. he had done what they'd told him not to, while wearing their insignia, and while he knew that some of them would be more than happy to welcome him back, it was storm, xavier, and hank that he was worried about. and given as hank, the mansion's official doctor, has not yet made an appearance, he's beginning to think that he's right. there is a tension hanging in the air of the mansion that he's not felt in a long, long time, and while he's done his best to ignore it these past few days, now that callie is awake, he isn't as easily able to do so now. she's been distracting him from it, and while she will likely continue to do so for the considerable future, her being awake and talking is a reminder that logan will eventually have to face the others . . . with a human in tow.

'your readin's look good,' rogue speaks, and draws logan back to the present, the mutant once again shifting uncomfortably in his chair. 'we weren't sure how you were gonna do, what with those holes in your throat'n'all, but doctor mccoy thinks you'll be back on your feet in a few days.' a gloved hands lifts to push a white chunk of hair from her face, and she shifts her weight to one leg, looking over callie for a moment. 'logan told me y'smoke. might wanna give that a few more days to make sure everythin' heals good'n'right before you leave.'

' before you leave '

logan grunts quietly, and rogue turns back to him with a raised brow and clipboard on her hip. she has never been fond of humans after the way they'd treated her, most mutants shared that sentiment, but she did not have to be so . . . pushy, about callie leaving. of course, logan knows she will not be welcome here, he isn't even sure if he is anymore, but he was trying to avoid that topic for as long as possible.

' . . . whenever that might be,' she finally adds, turning back to callie. 'is there anythin' i can get ya, sugah?'

#bornfromclaws

0 notes

cockneydio · 4 years ago

Text

It's been eeehhhh 18 months of my chaos queue without a hackey exhausting queue tag to warn you which of my posts were set up by Past Callie to ruin Present Callie's day anyway so what do we think about:

Pannacotta Queuego

Queueno Queueciarrati

Jolyne Queuejoh -or- Jotaro Queuejo

Higashikata Josqueueke

Oqueueyasu Nijimura

Queueichi-queuen

Kosaqueue Kira

Thus Queued Rohan Kishibe

Queuel Ice

Pretend this is Twitter and vote. The winner won't actually ever be used by me, because this was obviously just an excuse to make awful puns.

#if this were a genshin blog it'd be queuepical #the Rohan one is especially horrible #except 🤔 what if #now stay with me here #what if #i #present but eventually past callie #START using these. as if in a rotation. in all my FUTURE Queued posts #fiendishly clever calliope #im not going to queue this post that's just too chaotic #jojokes #jojo shitpost #jjba #if I have to suffer from the contents of my own brain so does the tag

29 notes · View notes

squidgirlfriends · 2 years ago

Note

TELL ME ABOUT MACEY

😈Macey my beloved Macer Machine Maceroni n cheese. My agent 4 my little squid. I have so much random shit to say about you

(NUMBERED them so it’ll be easier to refer to each point when I real-time revise✌️)

edit: REVISED!! read the addition down below (if you want??????)

They’re from a small town a few hours from inkopolis, and came to the city when they were fourteen to go to a high level boarding school focused on the arts… (they’re a writer)

They have a very rosy view of the world. Everything they see is poetic to them in some way. They loved octo canyon as soon as they got there (giant sky, breezy, lots of history, what tf is this giant teakettle sticking out of the ground, is that a humongous rock-carved octopus coming out of the ground, etc)

As an extension of this, they happened upon Marie in the square because they were too nervous to start doing turf wars and just kept procrastinating all over the place… the sun caught Marie’s parasol perfectly; they saw her and thought “WOWOW oh my squod (squid god). Is no one seeing this beautiful mysterious woman”

They get overwhelmed easily: for this reason they had a bit of trouble getting into ink battles at first. splatfests are either a blast or a nightmare depending on how much energy they have, and, more importantly, learning to fight the octarians was a struggle and they failed against octavio the first time—almost fatally

Even at a new school with kids who are similarly artistic, they never clicked easily with a group of friends… even so, they value alone time a lot so they’re never totally bothered

A list of people they are presently (age 19) 100% comfortable around, in no particular order: Marie, Callie, dj octavio, Flow and craymond, Len (agent 8)

The pursuit of quiet, less populated places in the middle of a city is kind of hard to find, thus they hang out at octo canyon a lot.

After a loooong time of pestering the snowglobed dj octavio and hearing about his cool mysterious past from Callie and Marie, they eventually got him to crack and talk to them… (and with some help/preliminary knowledge from Callie, they even got him to teach them octarian)

Marie + Macey + Callie splatoon Agent 2, 4 and 1’s Bully Octavio business. the Number One business for Bullying DJ Octavio. (they all love dunking on him, but he’s most likely to actually give in to Callie and Macey)

They Are So freaking bad at ink battling I’m so sorry to all their teammates in the past. Rip they are the worst team player and the sorest loser most of the time, but when they do come out to play some turf, they main blob for the lolz

They love salmon run!!!!! After about a year of living in inkopolis they were Very often on the grind at grizzco (pays the bills cod damn) and

they are absolutely horrified when they get to alterna and learn the. Ahem. details of the situation. from everyone else (they will be grizzco-ing anyway)

Also has worked part time for Flow at Headspace during school breaks

Fucking huge off the hook fan… possibly exploded when the octo expansion crew first met with the new squidbeak via mr grandpa cuttlefish

Now lives with Len (agent 8) in a shared apartment.. they are both big man diehards

They act very differently depending on who theyre with… you’re lucky to hear them speak at all if you’re not part of the new/new new squidbeak (or agent 8)

They’re organized as hell but they love being surrounded by things… they’re a clutter lover

Their hair is untamable and they enjoy it bc it makes them feel a little like a wild animal

#my ocs #splatoon 3 spoilers #my agents #macey #THANK U THIS IS SO DISORGANIZED but I will always have something 2 say about Macey #there’s definitely more but I’m just going off the brain rn #dj octavio #squid sisters #new squidbeak splatoon #agent 8

18 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Prologue

Author's Note: *Spoilers for WW84* Welcome to my brand new series coming Jan 2021! December Magic (my first Max Lord series) will be coming to an end in the coming week and I'm finally excited to share with you my brand new series. This series will be my interpretation of what happens after the events of WW84. If you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know! Merry Christmas everyone.

Word count: 2,000

Permanent Taglist: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Masterlist

Previous - Prologue - Next

*gif by: @mell-bell

"I've been lying to you, I'm not a great guy. In fact I’m a pretty messed up loser guy. And I make terrible mistakes. But you... you don’t ever have to make a wish for me to love you. I'm here because I love you. I just… I just wish and I pray that one day I will make you proud enough to forgive me.” Alistair could see the plea in his father's eyes. He could see the promise. And he saw a glint of something he had never seen before. Something so genuine, and powerful. Something so beautiful.

Alistair smiled weakly. “I don’t need you to make me proud. I already love you, daddy. Because you’re my dad.” Alistair revealed, pulling his father into a hug.

"I love you so much, my son." Maxwell croaked out, his hands fondling into Alistair's locks of hair and pressing a kiss into his forehead.

Maxwell's whole life; he had wished for more. Something bigger and better. He had wished for greatness because that was something he had never had. He couldn't afford college education and he didn't have loving parents. He came from a broken home; so when the opportunity arose and he was presented with shares in oil and the potential to start his own business, he took it. He yearned to make someone proud, and after the birth of his son, he'd found that someone.

It had all gone wrong. It wasn't meant to, but it had. Maxwell didn't think he could ever be able to forgive himself for his actions and misdirections, but his own forgiveness didn't matter. He could live the rest of his life in painful guilt if it meant that his son still loved him unconditionally.

Maxwell saw himself as a monster, a beast. For who would love a broken man like him? His parents didn't, his ex wife didn't. He had no one. He needed Alistair more than he could ever know.

"Daddy?" Alistair mumbled into his father's dress shirt, salty tears pricking his dark eyes. His voice was muffled by the way he had nuzzled his face into his father's warm chest, cherishing the embrace.

"Yes?" Maxwell hummed, eventually pulling away from his son, but his hands still set firmly on Alistair's shoulders. Alistair hesitated for a moment, nervously biting his lip as his father searched for an answer. What did Alistair want? Whatever he wanted, Maxwell was ready to give it— ready to give his all. Ready to change and become a better man. Alistair took a deep breath. He had a lot to learn and a long way to go but he was finally ready.

"Can we go home?" he asked, his eyes glistening with hope for a better future.

"Yes." Maxwell sighed, exhaling and letting his entire body deflate as he interlocked his fingers with his son. Alistair's hand was small, but his grip on Maxwell was tight— like he was afraid to let go. Afraid to lose his father. He couldn't lose him, not again.

The helicopter was still in near enough distance but Max wasn't about to hitch a ride a fly home like he might've once done before. Maxwell and Alistair walked through the field hand in hand until eventually they reached the highway. Where there was once plenty of abandoned cars and trucks, the world was finally restoring back to its former ways. But Maxwell swore that he was done being the greedy, selfish, businessman turned TV personality. He wanted none of that anymore. He wanted his family, and his son. He wanted to be a good father.

All he ever wanted deep down was to be a good dad to Alistair. He never believed in himself. How could he, when he had no father figure to look up to? Nobody in his life to give him encouragement, guidance or reassurance— nothing. He had come this far on his own and it was awful, isolating and damaging. He would not let his son make the same mistakes as he did.

They passed through the highway and it wasn't long until they were back at Black Gold Cooperative. Knowing that his company was about to go bust and that he'd have to sell all his assets just so he'd be able to earn enough to live off for a few months concerned him, but it was the least of his worries right now. He reached into the pocket of his tailored suit pants and took out his car keys, unlocking the passenger door and ushering for Alistair to slide in.

"But daddy, don't you have a driver?" Alistair questioned, his fingers fiddling with the knobs and buttons on the car radio. Maxwell slid into the driver's seat and let his hands glide around the wheel as he tried to recall the last time he had driven himself. It had been a long time.

"You know buddy, things are going to be changing very soon," Maxwell said, his eyes glazed as he looked upon the orange glowing skyline. "You might not like it at first. Might be hard to understand but, I promise you that one day you'll get it. I'm never going to hurt you again and I will make up all my wrongdoings. Even if it takes me the rest of my life," Maxwell huffed out a sigh. "Truth is, I was never deserving of the fancy cars, designer clothing and big house. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that we don't need those things to be happy."

"What do we need?" Alistair questioned curiously as Maxwell turned the key and initiated the engine.

Maxwell recalled the words spoken by Diana. "Love," Maxwell responded, like it was the simplest yet most beautiful thing in the world.

Most of the car journey home was filled with comfortable silence as Max kept his eyes on the road ahead, concentrating to the best of his ability whilst Alistair gazed out the window as he seemingly watched society rebuild itself. "So uhm, we still have the weekend together," Maxwell smiled as he pulled into the driveway. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't care, as long as I can spend time with you." Alistair grinned, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. It mirrored his father's. Maxwell took a deep breath and turned off the engine, unclicking his seatbelt and turning to his son.

"I have always loved you," Max admitted. "And I will always love you. Forever."

Alistair paused. "Can you play on the Atari with me? Mom's new boyfriend bought me a new video game and I really wanna try it out! He wanted to play with me but, you know. I'd rather play with my daddy."

Maxwell's eyes lit up ecstatically. He didn't have the first clue about video games, and in the past he would've shrugged off Alistair's request. But in this moment, he couldn't think of anything better. They sat on the floor in front of the nineteen inch television, stuffing their faces with popcorn. "Hey!" Maxwell laughed, huffing his cheeks out in annoyance. "You keep killing me!"

"Daddy," Alistair groaned out with a small giggle, prodding his finger into his father's tummy. "I'm going easy on you!"

"Okay okay," Maxwell chuckled as Alistair restarted the game. "Let's start again, I know I can beat you this time!" Maxwell grinned and pressed 'play' on the controller, his ring clad fingers pushing the buttons desperately.

Maxwell had spent his whole life trying to find his destiny and understand his legacy. He'd spent his life in pursuit of meaning and purpose— but the truth is, his purpose had been right before him this whole time. His purpose was Alistair. And right now, he couldn't be happier. Diana had let him off the hook, but that didn't mean his actions wouldn't have consequences.

The phone rang; a haunting buzz that vibrated throughout the whole house. "Can you pause it for me?" Maxwell asked, ruffling Alistair's hair. "I'll go answer this call and bring us back some more popcorn." Alistair nodded excitedly as Maxwell rose to his feet, his knees aching as he stalked over to the still ringing phone.

Leaning against the wall, he pulled it off the hook. "Hello?" he asked, curling the wire around his finger. "Who's there?"

"Max, it's me," the voice was like a ghost from his past. He felt his heart sink into the depths of his chest as he could practically taste the anger that dripped from her familiar tongue. "Bring Alistair home. You do not deserve him. I don't want you anywhere near my son ever again." she threatened before the line fell completely silent. Dead. Maxwell's shaky hands placed the phone back on the hook and he closed his eyes. He knew that he wasn't deserving of the unconditional love that Alistair gave him, but that boy meant the world to him. He had finally found his opportunity to change and become a better man— a better father. Maxwell padded back down the corridor and leaned against the door frame, watching as Alistair carefully read the words on the back of the box of his video game. Max's lips curved into a small but proud smile. That was his boy, and he wasn't going to let anything take Alistair away from him.

***

"I renounce my wish!" You had heard his voice, but only in dreams. Usually, it was soft like velvet, sweet like honey, but this time, you had awoken in a cold sweat. You pulled the blankets over your body as a chill raced down your spine. You felt his pain, his anguish and hurt. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Your scream alerted your mother who raced to your bedside with intentions to comfort you.

"Another nightmare?" Your mother Hesita asked you with concern. She smoothed out your hair as you wiped a tear away from your eye.

"It was him," you whispered, your voice shaky. "He needs me. I know it."

"You have found your calling?" Hestia quizzed, her voice merely above a whisper as she gazed into your eyes. You nodded slowly, never feeling more sure about anything in your life. "How do you know?"

"It is my duty," you replied softly as you looked past the skylight and amongst the stars. "Zeus made me the goddess of home and hearth for this very reason."

"But what makes him so special?" Your mother wondered out loud, her hand sliding into yours knowing that this would be your final night in her company.

"I don't know." you huffed with a tired shrug of your shoulders. It was true: you genuinely didn't know why you had been hearing his voice, letting his words and whispers haunt you over and over again. He consumed your every thought— this mysterious voice from the world of man.

"I renounce my wish!" those four words replayed in your mind like a broken record as you tried to figure out what exactly they meant. But it didn't matter. You felt his heartache. You felt his pain. And now? You were coming for him.

#max lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #ww84 #wonder woman 1984

455 notes · View notes

hopelikethemoon · 5 years ago

Text

Cracks (Reader x Javier) {MTMF}

Title: Cracks Rating: PG-13 Length: 3000 Warnings: Therapy Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in late September 1997. Summary: Reader goes to therapy.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 (more tags in the replies)

You settled into the right side of the sofa, leaning against the arm as your eyes flickered around the room. “You got a new bonsai tree.” You pointed out, pointing to the larger tree that sat beside the smaller one that had previously adorned her table. “I didn’t know they bloomed.”

“It’s an azalea. I have a client who enjoys gifting them to people.” Nancy smiled a little at you. “You should see my house.”

You laughed, pushing your hair behind your ears. “At least it’s something lovely.”

Nancy flipped her notebook open, shuffling through a few pages before making a note. “I thought that today might be a good day to discuss Javier.”

“Oh.” Your brows furrowed together and you shrugged. “Sure.” Honestly, you thought you had covered a lot about him in that first session.

“Your relationship with Javier was rather unconventional, wasn’t it?”

You nodded. “We’ve definitely done things backwards.”

“When did you realize you loved him?”

That was an easy enough question to answer. You still remembered the look on his face when you finally admitted what you both already knew.

“I told him that I loved him the Christmas before Josie was born.”

She shook her head, “Not when you told him. When did you realize?”

Your brows drew together. “Well…” You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip, thinking back over the years. It was hard to pinpoint the precise moment you realized you loved him. “I think I realized I had feelings for him when I was still dating Lance. I would catch myself comparing the two of them. I just assumed it was because I spent most of my time with Javi.”

“But you had another partner too. Did you ever compare Lance with Mr. Murphy?” She questioned, referring to her notes. You watched her as she wrote something down, glancing back at you expectantly.

“No.” You stared down at the ground. “It was always Javier I compared everyone to. But things were complicated back then. He led this life that I knew I didn’t factor into. I just bottled up those feelings and hid them away.”

“And what sort of life is that?”

“Uh, well…” You swallowed thickly. “I’m fairly certain he knew the name of every hooker in Bogotá.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“I didn’t feel anything.” You pushed your fingers through your hair. “Javier was my friend and that was his thing. Trust me, I even encouraged it.”

“Encouraged it?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “We both encouraged each other to have a little fun.” Nights out at the bar with Javier had been some of your favorite memories from Colombia.

“But never with each other?”

“We worked together.” You rubbed at the back of your neck, fluffing your hair. “I was content with just being his friend.”

“You were content?”

“I mean… not always. But it was easier to go home with a stranger, rather than screw up a good thing.” You shrugged. “I know it’s hard to believe, but that was never really a problem for either of us. We were both very supportive of our extracurricular activities.”

“But your opinion changed on that. Didn’t it? What changed?”

“It all happened so fast.” Though, maybe it had been a gradual slide towards something. “Steve left Colombia and I felt like my world was falling apart. I figured it was only a matter of time before Javier left too.” You admitted quietly. Reflecting back on that night, you now understood what you were feeling. You were lost and Javier was the only thing that made sense.

“So you slept with him?”

“I think that oversimplifies it. I think it was more like we both realized that life was short and sometimes it changes fast. Why delay the inevitable?”

“So you believed that your relationship with Javier was inevitable?”

“I believed that we would eventually sleep together, yeah.” You hugged your arms around yourself, feeling exposed to Nancy. “Look, I wanted to stay. I wanted to tell him that I wanted more but… like I said, I knew all about the life he led. He wasn’t the relationship type. He had his hookers and.. I felt like I was no better than a one night stand.”

“But that wasn’t the case. Was it?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. I didn’t know that though. For three months I ran from him. It was fucking unbearable.” You rubbed at your forehead, “To have someone who means the world to you, but you just… you shut them out for your own sanity.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I was afraid.” Your shoulders sank. “I hardly looked at him for three months. And that was a feat. Our desks faced each other. I was fucking terrified that if I looked at him I would see just how little he really cared about me. That I was just some stupid woman that fell into bed with him.”

“Stupid?” Nancy questioned, furiously writing notes. “Why that word choice?”

“Because I felt stupid.” You rubbed at your eyes, sighing heavily. “There was so much love in the way he touched me that night and I just… I assumed it was how he was with everyone. He had a good reputation. Those women loved him. I’m sure I made a few hookers weep when I pulled him off the market.”

“And did he keep up his interactions with them after your relationship began?”

You frowned, sinking back against the sofa as you stared at her. “Yeah. But it was just for work. She was an informant of his. In his defense, we weren’t even together. It happened while I was avoiding him.” You shook your head slowly. “But I think that eats at him. You should ask him about it.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how he felt. We’ve discussed that — all of this. This conversation has come up before. And I know that it’s one of the many things he still dwells on.” He dwelled on a lot of things about the past. Things that couldn’t be changed.

“And why do you think that?”

“I just do.”

“Do you want him to dwell on it?”

“No! I want to move past all of that.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I know you’re trying to find out if I’m jealous, but I’m not.” You told her earnestly. “You can even ask him. When there was this ridiculous rumor about him fucking a student — I knew he never would do that. I didn’t even consider it as truth. He was scared shitless that I would believe it, though. I know he loves me and I know he loves our family. That isn’t something I worry about.”

“Interesting.” She nodded approvingly, turning the page. “What drew you to Javier?”

“Day one... I felt this kinship with him. He really challenged me, which I appreciated. I think I did the same for him.” You rubbed your hands together slowly. “He was a jackass and he was handsome. It was a fatal combination.”

“Fatal?”

“I just mean…” You laughed. “He was definitely my type.”

“You’ve mentioned your previous relationship before. Was he anything like Javier?”

“Complete opposite. He had a terribly dry sense of humor, he was very straight-laced, and physically night and day with Javier.”

“How was your relationship with him?”

“I was bored.”

“How long were you with him?”

“Nearly a year I guess.” It probably said something about you that you didn’t know how long you dated Lance. “We broke up because he wanted me to leave Colombia with him. I couldn’t even picture it. My life was there. I was happy.”

“Was?”

“I am happy.” You assured her. “Javier and the girls are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Nancy nodded her head slowly. “In our first session you mentioned Javier’s guilt. What is it about the way he dwells on things that frustrates you?”

Oh, you hated the way she took everything you said and presented it back to you.

“Javier has convinced himself that he’s not a good guy. There was a lot of shit went down in Colombia. Stuff I can’t really talk about.” People who died, people who were killed. Shit that weighed heavily on both of you. “But he carries a lot of that with him. Constantly.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “And I don’t know how to help him do that. I’ve tried.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Why does that frustrate you?”

You blinked. “Because I know that he’s a good man. He’s an incredible father, the best partner I could ever imagine, and his students adore him despite how hard he is on them. He’s caring, loyal, passionate. He’s always been all in with me. But he lets things get under his skin and eat at him. Anything that goes wrong is instantly his fault. I mean, the garbage disposal could break and somehow he’d rationalize that it's his fault. That he didn’t think of it last week.”

“Why do you think Javier does that?”

“I’m hoping you’ll help him figure that out.”

Nancy’s brows rose upwards as she stared at you. “But this isn’t just about him.”

You dragged your fingers through your hair, sighing heavily. “No, it’s not.” You glanced towards the window, brows furrowed. “I’ve always had this theory… And it’s just a theory.” You glanced back at her then. “His mom died when he was young. Sofía is named after her.”

“I see.”

“I think sometimes that he is overcompensating because he has had such a complicated relationship with women throughout his life. Starting with his mother dying.”

“Why do you think that?”

“This thing we have is the most serious relationship either of us has ever been in. He was engaged once before, back when he was much younger. He left her at the altar.” You grimaced. “I know that there is a part of me that worries that the only reason we ended up in a relationship is because of Josie. That he’s still here because he wants to do right by our girls. But I know that isn’t true. Josie didn’t make us love each other, we already loved each other. She was just the linchpin that made us own up to it.”

“So why the worry?”

“Because I still catch myself feeling like that stupid girl who did the walk of shame out of the apartment of the man she loved. Who felt stupid for weeks and months, even after things were good between us.” You covered your face then. “I think I’m still waiting for the day that he leaves me at the proverbial altar.”

“And how long have you been together?”

“Five years.”

“Has he ever given you a reason to think he’s going to leave you?”

You shook your head. “My only reasons for even thinking that it could happen are my own. He is incredibly committed to our family. He’d do anything for us.”

“Then why do you feel that way?”

You wiped away a tear as it slid down your cheek. “Because I love him and I don’t want to lose him. We have been through so much. And frankly…” You laughed softly. “The thought of doing any of this on my own makes me sick to my stomach. He keeps me grounded. And he has for ten years.”

Nancy nodded slowly. “Why do you think you both struggle to communicate?”

“Because we both want to protect each other.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “And sometimes we are protecting each other from ourselves.”

“An astute observation.” She took a few more notes before closing her notebook and leaning back in her chair. “I think we made progress today.”

“I thought we’d talk more about me.” You admitted, wringing your hands together.

“Is there something that’s on your mind?”

“Not really,” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, brows furrowed. “But you’re right. I felt like I made progress this week.”

Nancy opened her notebook again and wrote something down. “And why do you think that is?”

“Well, writing things down has really helped. It’s nice to have something to reflect on when I feel like everything is falling apart. I mean, I couldn’t get Sofía to settle at all on Thursday. I ended up having to pump because she refused to latch on.” You frowned at the memory. “I felt like shit. But I looked back on Monday and Tuesday which were really good days.”

“You’re not going to have an overnight success. You went through a deeply traumatic experience.” Nancy reminded you with an even voice. “What you’re going through is understandable. We’re going to work together to give you the tools to overcome this.”

“Also,” You laughed with a roll of your eyes. “Javier wanted to make sure I told you that he’s doing his homework.”

“And how has that helped you?” Nancy arched a brow.

You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to ignore the way you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s not even about the sex. It’s the closeness I crave. The attention.” You laughed nervously. “So thank you for encouraging him to do whatever you encouraged him to do.”

“Intimacy is a vital part of a relationship.” Nancy explained, “Even if it is as simple as holding hands. It keeps you connected to each other. Keep working on that until your next session. Focus on documenting the good things that happen.”

———

“How did it go?” Javier questioned as you slid into the passenger seat.

“I think it went well.” You shrugged, glancing into the backseat. “Did you have fun at preschool today, Josie?”

“We did some math today.” She told you with a grimace.

“She had an issue.” Javier explained, reaching over to give your leg a squeeze.

“Oh no. What happened, sweetheart?”

“They had us counting with candy!” Josie said excitedly, though her expression faltered. “She had us subtractate-“

“Subtract.” You corrected

“Subtract three candies.” She stared down at her hands bashfully. “And when she said to put one back I couldn’t.”

Javier whispered, “She ate them.”

You snorted, trying to keep composed. “And then what happened?”

“I cried.”

“I had to talk to the teacher. It’s fine.” He assured you.

“Did she say you could eat the candies?”

“She didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Javier chuckled, rubbing his thumb over your leg. “She’s your daughter.”

“Always looking for a loophole.” You shrugged. “That’s okay Josie. It happens.”

“I know mommy.” Josie pursed her lips, looking rather dejected about the whole thing.

You reached back and gave her hand a squeeze. “Now you know not to eat them in the future.”

She nodded her head and clasped her hands around your hand. “I told sissy not to eat the candies when she goes to school too.”

“And what did she say?”

“She just stared at me.” Josie looked at her sister, brows furrowed. “She doesn’t like to talk yet.”

“That’s because she’s a little baby, JoJo.” Javier told her, looking back at them in the rearview mirror. “Remember what we talked about?”

“I remember.”

“What did you talk about?” You questioned, settling back against your seat as you looked at Javier.

“Josie was very disappointed that Sofía wasn’t fun. She’s used to Olivia and Emily. So we had a nice conversation about how she’s the big sister and she has to help us take care of Sofía until she’s bigger.”

“Daddy said sissy is like a puppy and I’m a big dog.”

“You called our daughter a puppy?” You slapped his leg playfully.

“I had to use terms she understood.”

You scrunched up your nose, “I suppose that’s excusable.”

As Javier slowed down for a stoplight, he reached over and took your hand into his, interlacing your fingers. “Did you tell her I was doing my homework.”

You squeezed his hand and laughed. “Seriously?” You grinned at him. “Don’t worry it was discussed. In fact, you were the topic of most of the session.”

“I was?” His brows drew together.

You nodded your head slowly, “You were indeed.”

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Should I be worried?”

“No.” You reassured him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “It helped me realize some stuff. Crap I’ve been holding onto for too long.” He definitely wasn’t the only one who hauled around shit from the past. “I think we’re going to come out of this better than before.”

“I hope so.” Javier squeezed your hand three short pulses, before he had to let go to drive the car. “How does ice cream sound?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You grinned, reaching over to steal the aviators off his face, leaning across the center console to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thief.”

“And proud.” You said smugly, pushing the glasses up the bridge of your nose.

You definitely had worries about your relationship, worries that you had neatly compartmentalized and tried to pretend them away. And maybe that showed. Maybe that was why it was so easy for Javier to believe you were done with your relationship, because he’d seen the cracks in the facade along the way.

You had always prided yourself on believing that you didn’t hide anything from Javier, but the truth was you were hiding things from yourself.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

162 notes · View notes

bananaofswifts · 5 years ago

Text

By : Callie Ahlgrim and Courteney Larocca

Taylor Swift released her eighth studio album, "Folklore," on Friday.

Swift surprised fans by announcing its release just one day in advance — and less than one year after the release of her acclaimed seventh album "Lover."

"Most of the things I had planned this summer didn't end up happening, but there is something I had planned that DID happen," she wrote on social media. "And that thing is my 8th studio album, folklore. Surprise!"

She described "Folklore," stylized in all lowercase, as "an entire brand new album of songs I've poured all of my whims, dreams, fears, and musings into."

Much of the 16-song tracklist — 17 on the deluxe edition — was cowritten and produced by The National's Aaron Dessner. Smaller pieces were cowritten by Bon Iver, Jack Antonoff, and someone named William Bowery. Antonoff also produced five songs.

Insider's music team (reporter Callie Ahlgrim and celebrity and music editor Courteney Larocca) listened to the new album on our own, jotting down our initial thoughts track by track.

Almost immediately, we were forced to reckon with the fact that "Folklore" might be Swift's best album yet — potentially even better than "Red," which previously seemed like it couldn't be topped. We were stunned with the mature, poetic, stunningly understated collection of new songs.

Here is what we thought of each song on "Folklore" upon first listen. (Skip to the end to see the only songs worth listening to and the album's final score.)

"The 1" is the best album opener Swift has had in years.

Ahlgrim: "I'm doing good, I'm on some new s---" is a wild way to begin a new Taylor Swift album. This is going to be different.

This is easily the best intro song she's released in years. "The 1" far surpasses "I Forgot That You Existed" on "Lover," "...Ready for It?" on "Reputation," and "Welcome to New York" on "1989" in terms of sheer quality.

It's also an engaging scene-setter; I find myself gently rocking back and forth, eyes closed, smiling without realizing. It's only the first song and so far, I am totally grasping the woodsy aesthetic of this album. I'm already ready for more.

Larocca: I would argue that there hasn't been a strong album opener on one of Swift's albums since "State of Grace" on "Red" in 2012. "The 1" breaks that curse.

I was vibing from that very first piano note, but when Swift comes in and warmly delivers the first line of the album — "I'm doing good, I'm on some new s---" — it became evident this project wouldn't be anything like the rest of her discography.

As far as "The 1" goes as a standalone song, it's incredibly solid. Swift has a breezy attention to rhythm as she paints a tale of a the-one-who-got-away romance. I truly, truly love it. This might end up being an all-time favorite track.

"Cardigan" is beautifully influenced by Lana Del Rey.

Ahlgrim: I heard "Cardigan" first because I watched the music video before I listened to the album.

Right off the bat, I was struck by the Lana Del Rey melody in the chorus; I jotted down "folksy 'Blue Jeans.'"

Swift has actually cited Del Rey as an inspiration in the past, so this makes sense — and that particular shade of nostalgic, haunting glamour really works for Swift's voice, so I'm overall very impressed with this direction. I am more than amenable to a "Red" meets "Norman F---ing Rockwell!" album experience. On my second time around listening, sans music video, "Cardigan" already feels richer coming after "The 1."

This time, I'm struck by small lyrical details like "Sequined smile, black lipstick," a clear callback to her past eras, and "Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy," an effective way to evoke young love and innocence lost.

I also think the song's central refrain, "When you are young they assume you know nothing," is clean and sharp and — especially given Swift's public struggles with sexism and years-old contracts — extremely poignant.

Larocca: I had the thought that Swift listens to Lana Del Rey after hearing "Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince" on last year's "Lover," but now I know for sure that Del Rey is an influence on Swift.

While "Cardigan" isn't what I thought this album would be like sonically, I'm overjoyed at how clearly singer-songwriter this album already is. I've been waiting years for Swift to make a lyrical marvel set to acoustic, warm, folksy instrumentals and it's here.

(And while I expected something different sonically, I am not mad at all by the backing instrumental choices here.)

"The Last Great American Dynasty" proves Swift is a natural storyteller.

Ahlgrim: Personally, I love Storyteller Taylor, so this is quite literally music to my ears.

There are so many delicious details here to unpack. The first verse, with its subtle sexist whisperings about Rebekah Harkness ("How did a middle-class divorcée do it?" and "It must have been her fault his heart gave out"), is a truly savvy way to set up for the song's eventual reveal.

Rebekah spent her time partying with friends, funding the ballet, playing card games with Salvador Dalí, somehow "ruining everything" — and her Holiday House was "free of women with madness" until Swift herself moved in.

That twist in the bridge is poetic genius. When the final chorus adjusts to the present day, underscoring the parallels between Rebekah and Swift, I'm forcefully reminded of an iconic bridge when Romeo finally proposed and changed everything — but Swift has evolved past daydreams of pure white dresses and fathers giving permission.

Larocca: I'm immediately taken back to 2012's "Starlight" when "The Last Great American Dynasty" starts. Thankfully, this song ends up being a lot better than "Starlight," which always felt more like a filler track on "Red" to me.

I love a lot here: the casual use of "b----," the acute attention to detail ("She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green"), and every version of this line: "There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen."

I had a marvelous time listening to this song.

"Exile," featuring Bon Iver, is one of Swift's most successful duets to date.

Ahlgrim: Swift and Bon Iver, aka Justin Vernon, are two of the best songwriters alive today, so this song was destined to be breathtaking.

Swift has historically had difficulty allowing her voice and vision to coexist with a featured artist; her collaborations often leave me feeling like she should've just delivered the whole song herself.

But Swift and Vernon were able to weave their lyrics together so gracefully, I was left feeling grateful for his presence. His rich, rustic tone and those iconic hummed harmonies lends the regretful song an added coat of sincerity.

The production here is generally fine, but the layered instrumentals in the ending really bring the song together. I love a dramatic exit.

Larocca: When I see a "featuring Bon Iver" on a track, I instantly assume Vernon is going to come in with his high falsetto. So it was almost jarring that the song starts with Vernon sounding like a lumberjack dad who hasn't left the woods in a decade.

That didn't end up being a detriment, though. Swift sounds delicate on her verse, and their vocals contrast nicely later on the track.

This one also brings to mind her collab "The Last Time" with Snow Patrol's Gary Lightbody. The line "I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending" is also reminiscent of "If This Was a Movie."

I'm obsessed with the clear influences Swift's previous discography had on these tracks, which have also so far felt completely unique to her catalog.

"My Tears Ricochet" is an extraordinary display of Swift's songwriting powers.

Ahlgrim: First of all, "My Tears Ricochet" is an incredible song title. Let's take a moment to appreciate that.

In fact, pretty much every line of this song is arresting.

Much of it feels both familiar and rare, like you know exactly what Swift is singing about, but hadn't thought to put it in those words before — which is, in my opinion, the mark of any good piece of writing but especially a breakup song. You can relate to the emotion, if not the particular details. You can hear the pain. It almost plays like a funeral march.

What a gift it is, what an exhilarating experience, to feel like you're listening to a poem being recited in real-time.

Larocca: Any true Swiftie knows that track five is reserved for the most vulnerable moment on the record, so I went into "My Tears Ricochet" ready to be sad.

I am endlessly impressed with how Swift managed to bake the word "ricochet" into this song so effectively. She also ditched her traditional song structure for this one, and instead built the track from peak to peak, utilizing clever lyrics along the way to tell an epic, devastating story, almost obviously calling back to the most beloved track five of "All Too Well."

I'm calling it now — this one is going to age like a fine wine. As all of Swift's best breakup ballads do.

"Mirrorball" is several strokes of genius.

Ahlgrim: This song gives me intense Clairo vibes, and I mean that as a very high compliment.

It's so fun and refreshing to hear Swift slip into different musical styles, and this shimmery take on alternative-bedroom-pop highlights her soft vocals and nuanced songwriting supremely well.

Also, my Leo sensibilities are fully under attack by this bridge: "I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try / I'm still on that trapeze / I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me." Oof! Just tag me next time.

Larocca: This one is so pretty! Swift's vocals sound better than ever as she spins on her highest heels across a glittery daydream.

"I'm a mirrorball / I'll show you every version of yourself tonight" might be the thesis statement of this entire album. So far, "Folklore" feels both diaristic and vague; detailed and completely anonymous.

Fans will be debating for years whether this album is about Swift's own life, or if it's simply really great storytelling pulled directly from her own mind. In the end, it doesn't really matter.

Because as all of Swift's best songs do, these songs will attach themselves to listeners in completely new ways, showing them elements and stories from their own lives.

"Seven" is pure whimsical magic.

Ahlgrim: This is playing make-believe in the garden when you're too young to feel self-conscious; it's poetic and nostalgic and full of awe in such an unpretentious way.

I wouldn't change one thing about this song. Swift's whispery high register sounds divine, and at this point in the tracklist, her rhythmic delivery in the chorus hits like a shot of espresso.

Right now, I'm wondering if it's possible for Swift to maintain this intrigue and momentum for another nine songs. There hasn't been a misstep to speak of, and I remain wholly beguiled. Can it last?

Larocca: The beginning of "Seven" sounds like Swift listened to Marina's "Orange Trees" on repeat before showing up to her songwriting session. Fortunately, "Orange Trees" is the only song I like on Marina's "Love + Fear" so I will gladly accept this inspiration.

Swift continues to impress with both her vocals and her sense of rhythm on "Seven." I also personally love space imagery so the line "Love you to the moon and to Saturn" is a standout line.

"August" will go down as one of the best songs in Swift's extensive repertoire.

Ahlgrim: I'm immediately catching hints of Phoebe Bridgers and girl in red in Swift's delivery. And I simply adore the idea that Swift has spent the last few months sitting at home, daydreaming about summertime humidity and listening to music by queer indie-pop girls.

In an album full of songwriting expertise, this song has some of Swift's best lines yet: "August sipped away like a bottle of wine / 'Cause you were never mine" actually hurts me.

In my notes, there simply sits this valuable insight (yes, in all-caps): "WANTING WAS ENOUGH. FOR ME IT WAS ENOUGH TO LIVE FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL." This song has my favorite bridge on the album so far.

In terms of production, "August" is exquisite. It's lush and layered without feeling overwhelming at any point. It builds to the perfect level then recedes, like a wave.

Also worth mentioning: It can now be considered a historical fact that any time Swift mentions a car or driving in one of her songs, it's a perfect song.

Larocca: While listening to "August," I texted Callie and said, "I can't wait to finish the album so I can relisten to 'August.'" It's an instant favorite.

This is also the first track on the album that seems directly inspired by our current state. Not because she's expressing fear or singing about being bored at home, but because she so easily slips into a reflection of a relationship that ended years ago with a newfound wave of wistful nostalgia.

When quarantine started, it seemed like a million lifestyle articles came out explaining why everyone suddenly felt compelled to text their exes and why we're so invested in looking back instead of forward right now.

"August" validates those feelings with zero judgment, letting its listener know that yes, it's totally normal for you to be overanalyzing that quasi-relationship you were in back in college that never made it past graduation. Am I projecting? Maybe, but that's debatably what Swift's music is best utilized for.

I'm also going to be thinking about this song's bridge and outro for the rest of my life.

The National's influence can be felt on the stunning "This Is Me Trying."

Ahlgrim: "This Is Me Trying" quickly strikes a more sinister tone than its predecessors — still nostalgic and wistful, but carrying an edge, like a threatening secret.

Ironically, this one was co-written and co-produced by Jack Antonoff, not Aaron Dessner, though I can really hear The National's influence here. I'm getting strong wafts of songs like "Pink Rabbits" and "Dark Side of the Gym."

Based on Swift's own words, we can speculate that "This Is Me Trying" is a fictional tale, built around the image of "a 17-year-old standing on a porch, learning to apologize." And, as previously stated, I'm a big fan of Storyteller Taylor, so I'm into it.

The song's darker tone mingles really well with Swift's imagery; when you're a teenager, and you make a mistake, it can feel like the end of the world.

Larocca: "This Is Me Trying" is precisely what I imagined this album sounding like when I found out Swift collaborated with the National's Aaron Dessner and Bon Iver.

But I'm glad she was strategic about her use of echo and also finally paid attention to the tracklisting from a sonic standpoint. This haunting soundscape is reminiscent of 2014's "This Love" and comes in right when you need it after the yearning daydream of "August."

I'd also like it to be on the record that the line "I got wasted like all my potential" ruined me and this song is a win for that lyric alone.

"Illicit Affairs" is a glowing example of what sets Swift apart from her peers as a songwriter.

Ahlgrim: The expert songwriting on "Illicit Affairs" reminds me of the as-yet unseated queen in Swift's discography: "All Too Well."

Swift is a master of wielding specific details like weapons: "What started in beautiful rooms / Ends with meetings in parking lots," she sings. "Leave the perfume on the shelf / That you picked out just for him." These are the sorts of images that set Swift apart, and they're especially strong when she punctuates their delivery with a little growl in her voice.

This song has real power. I have chills.

That power is magnified in the third verse, similar to how "All Too Well" builds to a crescendo: "Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me."

Certainly, "Illicit Affairs" is more restrained than Swift's iconic arena rock ballad, but goddamn that last verse hits hard.

Larocca: The way that she says "him" in the second verse shook me out of my skin in the very best way. And "Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this idiotic fool that you made me" will go down as one of her best breakup lines of all time.

It's been a minute since Swift delivered a painstakingly beautiful breakup ballad, and the fact that this album is littered with them is, simply, a gift.

"Illicit Affairs" has growing power and will likely become one of those tracks that fans form a strong emotional attachment to over time.

"Invisible String" is Taylor Swift at her most Taylor Swift.

Ahlgrim: "Invisible String" is a feast of Easter eggs and callbacks.

"Teal was the color of your shirt" reminds me of the line about Joe Alwyn's blue eyes on "Delicate," and her reference to a dive bar is similarly familiar. "Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs" recalls the push-and-pull on "Exile."

"Bad was the blood of the song in the cab" is undoubtedly a reference to Swift's 2015 single "Bad Blood," while "One single thread of gold / Tied me to you" feels like a nod to Swift's description of love's "golden" hue on the "Lover" album closer "Daylight."

This song is sprightly and sparkly and certainly nice to listen to, but its real strength lies in these details.

Swift is weaving many different stories on this album, many connected by a sort of "Invisible String," tying different pieces of her life and your life and other lives together. It ends up feeling like a growing plant with far-reaching roots, or a sentient treasure map.

Larocca: I'd be lying if I said there weren't multiple points throughout this album where I worried that Swift and her boyfriend Joe Alwyn had broken up.

Thankfully, "Invisible String" is a rosy, wide-eyed ode to love. The plucky guitar paired with Swift's soft vocals is a sound I want to live in, which is fitting since this track feels like coming home.

Every small detail, from the nod to Alwyn's time spent working at a frozen yogurt shop in his youth, to the color imagery that paints every inflection of Swift's adoration (especially the single thread of gold) come together to lay the holy ground Swift's relationship walks on.

Also, the image of Swift mailing Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner gifts for their expectant first child brings about an unbridled sense of joy.

"Mad Woman" is yet another highlight.

Ahlgrim: Every time I think I've heard the peak of this album's songwriting potential, Swift manages to surprise me.

Case in point: "Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? / Does she smile? / Or does she mouth, 'F--- you forever?'" Whoa.

And another, for good measure: "It's obvious that wanting me dead / Has really brought you two together." I texted Courteney, "Did she really just say that??"

This song is sublime on its own, but the way it ties back into the perception of female freedom and "madness" on "The Last Great American Dynasty" makes it even better. "Mad Woman" is definitely a personal favorite so far on this album, if not in Swift's entire catalog.

Larocca: "Mad Woman" will forever hold the honor of being the first song in which Swift says "f---" and for that, we should all be thankful.

I was also so wrapped up in the storytelling of this album, that it took a minute for this to even register that this is likely about the Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta / Kanye West and Kim Kardashian West ordeals of Swift's past. These callouts used to be so obvious, that I greatly appreciate the subtlety and restraint here.

It almost feels like these feuds were a lifetime ago, but this track does an excellent job at showcasing how anger and pain can leave an indelible mark on you. Swift went mad years ago, and that's just an accepted part of her narrative now.

But for the first time, her rage sounds like freedom.

"Epiphany" doesn't stand out.

Ahlgrim: There are some really interesting vocal moments on "Epiphany," but so far, this is the only song I haven't felt captivated by. It's a bit snoozy, and a bit too long.

This song clearly references war, the loss of a loved one, and the coronavirus pandemic, which makes it lyrically intriguing at best — but distressing at worst. I don't mind letting the overall effect waft over me, but this won't be a song I revisit outside the context of the album.

Larocca: "Epiphany" is the only track on "Folklore" that didn't immediately grab me. It's essentially a war drama in song format, so some people might like it, but I truly couldn't care less about war movies or war songs! So it's not my favorite, but it makes for pretty background music.

"Epiphany" does have another benefit though: Now, whenever some random dude erroneously claims Swift "only writes songs about her exes," fans have a clear song in her discography that they can point to and be like, "That's not true. This one's about war."

That's not to say Swift needed that — anyone who has been paying attention understands she's quite possibly the best songwriter of her generation.

This just happens to be further proof of that fact.

"Betty" is a charming callback to Swift's country roots.

Ahlgrim: "Betty" is like the best, sauciest song from Swift's 2006 debut country album that no one got to hear. It has sonic and lyrical similarities to hits like "Our Song" and "Tim McGraw," plus some name-dropping stuff like 2008's "Hey Stephen," plus a little harmonica thrown in for good measure! I love that for us.

"Betty" also appears to complete a three-song story, recalling details from "Cardigan" and "August" to close the loop on Betty and James, a couple in high school with some infidelity issues.

Looking back, it feels like "Cardigan" was told from Betty's perspective, while "August" was told from the perspective of a sort of "other woman" character. Now, we get James' side of the story. This is high art, folks! This is peak Storytelling Taylor!

"Betty" is also, like, very gay? I know it's easy to assume that James is a male character, but Swift herself was named after James Taylor, so she could be referring to herself. The song also references someone named Inez; James and Inez are the names of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's daughters.

Plus, in retrospect, the idea of whispering "Are you sure? Never have I ever before" during a summer fling seems pretty gay to me.

I'm not saying the story of Betty and James would be better if it was written about sapphic lovers, but I'm not not saying that.

Larocca: This one is gay, and if you try to tell me otherwise, I will simply ignore you.

But Courteney, it's from the perspective of a guy named James. James and the other character, Inez, share the same names as Reynolds and Lively's kids (will leave it up to you to decide if that means their third daughter's name is Betty). James is their daughter. Get out of here with your antiquated ideas about which names connotate which genders.

To me, the James named in this song is a woman and a lesbian and this song is for the gays. I will not be saying anything else or accepting any feedback on this opinion, thank you.

"Peace" is honest and raw.

Ahlgrim: This song's intro sounds like LCD Soundsystem had a baby with "The Archer." The gentle guitar riff is also lovely.

With Dessner's echoey production, Swift's voice sounds like a warm little fire in a cave — fitting, since she sings in the chorus, "I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm."

OK damn, I'm getting really emotional. This songwriting is beautiful and haunting. "Peace" perfectly captures the ambient dread of feeling your partner slip away, of wondering whether love can be enough.

Larocca: If you're a "Call It What You Want" stan, you're going to love its mature older sister "Peace."

I will hereby forever be thinking about the parallels between "But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm" with "He built a fire just to keep me warm" and between "Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother" with "Trust him like a brother."

Also, "Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" has the same emotional impact as when Swift changes the lyric in "The Archer" to "I see right through me" and that's meant as the highest form of compliment.

Swift's vocals are so crisp, that guitar riff is so stunning, and these lyrics are so gut-wrenchingly vulnerable. A perfect song, through and through.

"Hoax" is unlike any other album closer in Swift's catalog.

Ahlgrim: I don't know if Swift is going through a traumatic breakup, but if she isn't, the woman is one convincing creative writer.

The National makes some of my favorite music to cry to, so when I heard Aaron Dessner had co-written and produced much of this album, I knew I was in for some glossy cheeks. Until now, I think I've felt too captivated by Swift's artistry to really let myself get there.

But finally, "Hoax" is making me cry.

This is heart-wrenching stuff for anyone, but for a fan and student of Swift's work, this is like reading a friend's diary entry.

"Don't want no other shade of blue, but you" must be a reference to "Delicate," in which Swift sings: "Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you / Oh damn, never seen that color blue." Later, she croons, "You know I left a part of me back in New York," perhaps regretting the move to London that she detailed throughout "Lover."

"You knew it still hurts underneath my scars / From when they pulled me apart," recalling the public shaming she endured and demons she exorcised on "Reputation." "But what you did was just as dark." Like I said before: Whoa.

Personally, I love having a good cry set to moody music, so I appreciate Swift's soul-bearing. "Hoax" is one gut-punch of an album closer.

Larocca: Swift has a habit of ending her albums on an uplifting, hopeful note and I always eat it up. But if "Folklore" hadn't made it clear by now that it should be consumed differently than any of her previous works, "Hoax" brings that message home.

Instead of reveling in all the ways that love has made her stronger, happier, or more whole, "Hoax" deconstructs everything Swift has learned about love and leaves a bleaker picture about how maybe even the best of relationships hurt.

But at its most tragic, this love still isn't something Swift will ever let go of: "Don't want no other shade of blue but you / No other sadness in the world would do."

Finishing a Taylor Swift album has never been so devastating.

Final Grade: 9.7/10

#taylor swift #folklore #review

50 notes · View notes

romancemedia · 5 years ago

Photo

Suttard and Slexie: Behind the Breakups

I just realized the one striking similarity between these two great couples which ultimately caused them to break up... KIDS. Slexie and Suttard are two great couples, one of the best from each series, Grey’s Anatomy and The Bold Type. Richard and Sutton along with Mark and Lexie loved each other with all their hearts, but when it came to kids it’s what lead to the breakdown of their relationships.

Mark and Richard have always wanted kids, but Lexie and Sutton both have different ideas on the subject since they are young women while Mark and Richard are older than they are. Mark and Lexie’s relationship broke down upon the appearance of Mark’s daughter, Sloan Riley who happened to be pregnant. Mark wanted to raise the baby with Lexie, but she wasn’t ready to become a grandmother and thus it’s what caused them to break up. Eventually, they did get back together again, only to break up once more when Lexie discovered Callie was pregnant with Mark’s child. Despite their breakup, however, Mark and Lexie still loved each other with all their hearts and while their story did not end on a happy note, they still managed to find each other again before it was too late.

In regards to Richard and Sutton, they both understood their dilemma, knowing full well the age difference between them, but weren’t going to think about that for the time being and focus on their present. Eventually, shortly after getting married this past season, Sutton discovered she was pregnant, but sadly for the couple she miscarried. Although they were both greatly saddened by the loss, it caused them to have different reactions. Richard wanted to try again to have a baby, but the outcome caused Sutton to realize she loved her life the way it was and didn’t want kids, despite knowing that Richard has always wanted to be a father. Eventually, the couple faced the biggest fight of their entire relationship, causing Richard to leave Sutton and possibly the end of Suttard for good.

Although both couples are different, the one thing in common that caused their breakups was kids. The subject of starting a family and having children is always a major factor for couples since if they don’t share the same feelings about the matter it can cause the end of their relationships. Overall, the age old lesson regarding kids makes it’s point once again, couples must always talk about the subject to see what the future holds for their relationship.

#Grey's Anatomy #My Thoughts #The Bold Type #My Thoughts GA #Slexie #Suttard #Mark x Lexie #Sutton x Richard #Lexie Grey #Mark Sloan #Sutton Brady #Richard Hunter #Callie Torres #Comparison

31 notes · View notes

shipperssafehaven · 4 years ago

Note

Can u do the 'send a show' thing for greys anatomy

The first character I fell in love with:

I loved Bailey from her first introduction. It took me a few episodes to get an understanding for the rest but she was the one I loved from the very jump

The character who is my 'baby':

That would be Lexie and April. Both are my girls and I love them sm

The character who I do not understand:

I think I have a good understanding of every character, even the ones I don't like tbh

The character that I think the show ruined:

Izzie. I loved her in the first and second season but they ruined her for me in the third and fourth

The most attractive male and female character:

For male, Mark and Jackson are tied

For female, Lexie and Addison are tied

The character death that was the worst for me:

Lexie and Mark's easily. No other character deaths destroyed me in the same way. Their story wasn't finished in the slightest and I will forever be bitter about it. They were meant to be :(

The character that is the most like me:

I would say I'm a mixture of Lexie and Arizona

The character that I think the writer(s) love:

Derek. He went through so much but it's obvious the writers loved him. I feel like the writers put a lot of thought into his character

The character that I just want to be happy:

Alex. Happy Alex is the best Alex.

My four favorite characters, past or present:

-Mark

-Lexie

-Cristina

-honestly Bailey/Callie/Addison are tied

My four least favorite characters, past or present:

-Thatcher (i never forgave him for hitting meredith honestly)

-Stark (the moment i softened up to his character is the exact moment he vanished. i'm sure if he was there a little longer, i would've liked him eventually)

-Season 3 & 4 Izzie (she treated callie so horribly and the writers just ruined her)

-Other than all the obvious hated characters in the fandom, i'm not really sure. (maybe erica? i didn't like the way she treated cristina)

#greys anatomy

1 note · View note

jazy3 · 5 years ago

Text

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 16X19

I loved this episode! I was really excited for it based on the promo information I saw and I was not disappointed! This episode is a partial standalone that focuses on a small handful of characters while also showing us what the other characters are doing and providing more background and insight on a select few. Standalone episodes are not my favourite, but I really liked this one. Let me set the scene. Richard, Maggie, Teddy, and Cormac are in Los Angeles for the LA Surgical Innovation Conference. Richard is excited because he’s there to present his PATH Pen to the world. Maggie is there to support him and loves these things so she’s pumped. Teddy is excited to have some kid free time to herself and Cormac does not want to be there at all.

We see Richard arrive at the Conference and meet up with Maggie. He calls her Meredith by mistake which is the first sign of trouble. He blames it on the long flight and tells her he’s rewritten his speech at least 20 times. Maggie tells him that she’s happy to be there and support him and that Meredith says she’s sorry she couldn’t be there as planned because her sitter got the flu last minute. I liked that they addressed why Meredith couldn’t be there. That really bothered me about the dinner party episode. The premise was that both Maggie and Jackson thought the dinner was for Catherine and Richard’s anniversary when in reality it was to tell them they were getting a divorce yet the fact that Meredith wasn’t invited or present was never addressed. Which to Maggie should have been the first clue that something was up, but it wasn’t addressed at all which made no sense because Meredith is the main character.

This episode went from zero to sixty real fast! Following this exchange we see Catherine appear at Richard’s hotel room and they make up. He spends most of the episode in his hotel room with Catherine writing and rewriting his speech and have a jolly good time doing it. I knew right away from how quickly they made up that something was wrong, but I couldn’t tell what it was. The reveal about Richard was the most shocking to me by far. My best friend, who I watch with, picked up on it way faster than I did. Next we see Teddy and Maggie meet up at something called Heart Valve Happy Hour. They’re talking about why they like these kinds of things when Maggie notices a guy named Winston from across the room. It turns out Winston was one of her residents at Tufts University when she lived in Boston. He’s very handsome and it turns out he had a crush on her but never did anything about it because she was his boss and he was resident.

He planned to ask her out when he became an Attending, but then Maggie moved to Seattle right before that happened so he never got the chance. It turns out the attraction is mutual and major sexy times ensue! Get it girl! After all of the BS that Jackson put Maggie through these last couple of seasons I am here for it! Get yours girl! Maggie deserves a hot hookup with a hot guy who’s into her and doesn’t try to change her and boy does she get it. They sleep together and then spend the remainder of the Conference having one long date where they talk by the pool and bond over having both lost their mothers in the last 2 - 3 years as they share their favourite movies and ideas of a perfect day. It’s super adorable and totally cute.

Everything is going great until Winston suggests that one of them move to either Seattle or Boston to be with the other. That was sudden! Maggie thinks so too. She tells Winston she likes him, but she needs time to weigh and measure and think. Winston says that’s fine and to take all the time she needs, but he doesn’t think he’ll feel any differently in the future. He’s into her and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make it work. My first thought when Winston said that was, “Well they definitely haven’t talked about the sister house! ‘Cause there’s no way Maggie is leaving her sisters, nieces, or nephew for a former resident of hers she reconnected with at a Conference. Maggie’s not leaving her crew for that. Uh ah.”

I like that Winston within one episode is already 100 times better for Maggie than Jackson ever was. Jackson was always trying to change her and make her into something she’s not. Maggie deserves someone who loves her for who she is and doesn’t want or expect her to change. Winston is one of those characters that I think could go either way. Either this is a one time thing and this will be the last we see of him or he’ll pop up again later on as a recurring character after he moves to Seattle. Honestly, Winston really grew on me this episode and I’d love to see him again. Maggie deserves to have some fun with a hot guy that’s into her and likes her for who she is!

And Maggie’s not the only one who bumps into someone from her past. While sitting at the hotel bar Teddy bumps into Claire who it turns out is an old friend and former roommate of hers who also knew Teddy’s best friend Allison. And plot twist it’s surprise bisexuality that you never saw coming! Yes it turns out after six non-consecutive seasons of being on this show and never once showing the slightest bit of interest in women Teddy Altman is bisexual. I was shocked. This show never ceases to amaze me. We find out that Allison, Teddy, and Claire were roommates back in New York and that Claire and Teddy worked together. Claire and Allison were a couple, but we find out through a flashback that at the time of Allison’s death she and Teddy were having an affair behind Claire’s back. Claire tells Teddy that she suspected something was going on at the time but didn’t know for sure until she requested Allison's phone records. It turns out Teddy was the last person she tried to call as the Twin Towers collapsed around her. Not her parents, not Claire, but Teddy. This news leaves Teddy gutted and utterly devastated.

Here’s something interesting that I caught on re-watch. In the flashback to 2001 after Claire leaves for work Allison says she’s disappointed to hear Teddy has to work tomorrow because she wanted to invite her to breakfast at Windows on the World. I didn’t recognize the name so I looked it up. Windows on the World was a fancy restaurant that was part of the North Tower of the original World Trade Center complex. It’s a small detail but I thought it was a nice touch. I also thought there was something heartbreaking about Allison inviting Teddy to have breakfast with her at a restaurant that was part of the complex she worked at that would eventually become the site of her death.

Towards the end of the episode Teddy sees Claire sitting by herself in a quiet corner of one of the halls and decides to try and make amends. They both apologize and Teddy tells her about meeting Owen and how he saved her from a grief so big that it almost killed her and that for years she felt guilty for loving him half as much as she loved Allison and because he was with someone else and because she wasn't capable of letting someone love her fully. She realizes now that Allison loved both of them: Teddy and Claire. At the time, Teddy didn't believe it because she thought you couldn’t love more than one person at a time, but she does now. She tells Claire how very sorry she is for the betrayal. Claire says she could never stay mad at anybody for loving Allison and they hug it out.

Kudos to Claire for being such a good sport and being so amazing! I don't know if I would take what Teddy had to say that well. While the fact that there was more to Allison’s story and Teddy’s relationship to her was always implied I never saw this coming. I think if maybe they had dropped some hints now and again it might have been less shocking. They’ve dropped hints and made comments over the years about Amelia being bisexual, but never Teddy so I thought that was odd. I got the impression that they might have been trying to imply that what happened with Allison was so traumatic that Teddy stop dating women after that point, but it felt like they could have explained or explored that a little better.

Also they never established if Allison was the first woman Teddy dated. If that’s the case it’s possible that Teddy fell in love with Allison only and apart from that has only ever dated men which does happen. I hope we get some clarification on this in future episodes and they explore this more. There’s something else I want to point out about this storyline which is the stereotype of bisexuality and being unfaithful. As a straight person I didn’t pick up on this at all, but my best friend whose queer did. We watched the show together and afterwards she pointed out that more than one of the queer characters on Grey’s Anatomy seem to fall under the stereotype or misconception that bisexual people are more prone to cheating which in reality simply isn’t true.

She pointed out that we’ve seen other examples of this with Arizona and Callie. Arizona was a lesbian who cheated on her partner and was blatantly bi-phobic and had a real problem with Callie being bisexual. Callie was a bisexual woman who got cheated on by all of her partners gay and straight. As Grey’s is known for being progressive about a lot of stuff, including LGBTQ representation, I don’t think this is intentional, but I do think they could be more sensitive to it. Especially because there are still so many myths and misconceptions about the LGBTQ+ community out there and not everyone has someone in their life who is a part of that community.

I was surprised that Maggie and Teddy were so happy to see each at this Conference and were hugging it out like old friends. Last time we saw them together Maggie made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with Teddy’s drama and could she please stop confiding in her? Maggie and Teddy aren’t the only ones who receive a blast from the past this week! My new favourite character Dr. Cormac Hayes does as well. Cormac hasn’t been to a medical conference in a while and being there brings back memories for him of when he met his late wife Abigail. Lucky for us the audience gets to experience these moments as flashbacks which are by turns both hilarious and heartbreaking.

Hayes arrives at the Conference with his two teenage sons in tow. He flashes back to when he was younger and first saw his wife across a crowded room. He was a young doctor attending the same medical conference at the same hotel and she was handing out pens in the hotel lobby. Later on we see Teddy and Cormac having a drink at that Heart Valve Happy Hour event which apparently has free booze. Teddy comments that he doesn’t seem happy to be there. Cormac says he’s not and doesn’t really want to be, but Bailey asked him to come and represent Peds and he’s the new guy and it felt more like an instruction than a request so he came.

He tells her he brought his boys with him so that they could see their aunt who lives in LA. A sales rep comes over to talk to them. Cormac dislikes him instantly and we soon see why. We then see a flashback of Abigail approaching Cormac at a hotel bar. She’s handing out pens. He asks if she knows how they work and if she’s aware that the company she’s working for makes erectile dysfunction medication. It’s a great comedic moment and you get to see why they fell for each other. Abigail tells him she didn’t know that and that it’s no wonder none of the guys there will take the pens. She admits that she knows nothing about the company and she’s only there because her friend told her they would pay them $500 each to go hand out some pens at a Conference. She says that while that might not mean much to a big fancy doctor like him to a starving artist like her that’s rent money which is why she took the job.

She tells Cormac about her work and says that she’s a mixed-media artist. She tries explaining it to him but it’s clear that he doesn’t get it which she comments on. He says that all of the words make sense just not in that order. She says she has to get back to handing out pens. Cormac doesn’t want her to go so he takes all of them saying he uses a lot of pens. He offers to buy her a drink which she accepts. Years later we see Cormac, Abigail, and their boys in a hospital room. She’s sick with cancer and is anxious because she’s about to have a hysterectomy. Cormac sits next to her and does his best to calm her down. He reminds her that it’s a routine procedure and that the surgeon he found for her is great. Abigail is afraid that she’ll die. Cormac laughs because it seems impossible. To try and cheer up he makes a joke about how if she dies he and the boys will move on. He says it’ll be a tough couple of days, but then everything will be fine because as a surgeon and a sexy widowed father of two women will be lining up to go out with him and bringing him casseroles. He won’t have to work for it at all. They both laugh.

Time moves forward. We see that Abigail’s condition has worsened and things aren’t looking good. They’re on their second clinical trial and she’s now wearing a head wrap because she’s lost all of her hair to chemotherapy. The boys do their best to try and cheer her up. She asks them to go find her a ginger ale. They leave and it soon becomes clear why she wanted to speak to Cormac alone. She knows she’s dying and there’s a good chance that this trial won’t work which means he’ll be on his own soon. Cormac doesn’t want to believe that and tells her to stop talking like that because he can’t bear the thought of losing her.

He cries and tries to get her to stop, but she persists so he listens. She gives this gut wrenching speech about how he has to make sure the boys know it's okay to cry and feel everything and fall apart and be a mess. She doesn’t want them to bottle it all up and have their grief eat away at them. That it’s okay for him to fall apart too and that he needs to let the boys see that. She makes him promise to let the boys see her sister. She says she’s crazy, but she’s not a bad person and she loves them. This line cracked me up! She tells him that if he has trouble with the boys he should call his mother because Cormac is proof that the woman knows what she’s doing. Cormac cries at this and does his best to hold it together. She tells him it’s okay if Austin quits piano. She told him he’ll get better if he keeps practicing, but she’s pretty sure it’s hopeless. She also tells him to keep an eye on Liam's temper because he gets that from her and they’ve both seen the trouble that can cause. And one last thing, Cormac has her permission to fall in love again. She says he deserves to be happy. He says he doesn’t want that at all.

Abigail says she knows that which is why he needs to hear her say it. She doesn’t want him to feel guilty or beat himself up about it. She repeats his own words back to him from before she had her hysterectomy and reminds him that since women will be lining up he won't have to work for it. In the scene that follows we find out that Abigail has died and we see Cormac and the boys in the process of cleaning out her hospital room. Austin sits down on the bed crying. He doesn’t want to leave. Cormac goes and sits with him and says they can stay as long as he likes. Liam says the whole thing is stupid and you can tell he’s trying to be strong and hold it in. But in honouring Abigail’s wishes Cormac motions for Liam to come and sit beside him. He does and begins crying in Cormac’s arms. He comforts them and holds them while they grieve the loss of their mother and fall apart.

As soon as Cormac said that line about being a sexy widower I knew they were going to bring it back. It was too good not to. It also gives me hope for Meredith and Cormac’s budding romance. To me it’s the only thing that makes sense. Cristina sent Cormac as a gift to Meredith, multiple people in Mer’s life have commented on the sparks between them and how great they’d be together, and she’s the only one we’ve seen Cormac spend quality time with or show a romantic interest in. To me there was no point in including that line if they’re not meant to end up together. We saw across multiple seasons how Derek felt about Meredith and he was adamant that if something ever happened to him that she should move on and find love again.

He brought it up multiple times while he was alive and it’s a big part of why he encouraged her to connect with her sisters and his and why he pushed her to open up to the possibility of having kids. And once those kids were there he wanted them and Meredith to be surrounded by as much love as possible. He was adamant that if something ever happened to him he didn’t want Meredith to be alone and she’s not. These flashbacks with Cormac and Abigail and the boys provide us with similar information. We get to see how they fell in love and how he supported when she was sick. We get to see the love they had for each other and how much they love their sons.

We also get to see that both Abigail and Derek wanted similar things for the loves of their lives and their children in the event of their passing. They wanted them to find love and be happy because they deserve it. There are so many parallels here between Meredith and Cormac’s stories it’s mindboggling. To me this is the perfect set up for Cormac to finally pluck up the courage and ask Meredith out. He’s obviously wanted to for a while now, but I think he’s been reluctant up till now because he’s been grieving and wasn’t sure if he was ready or if she was. Then with the whole DeLuca situation he’s likely been wondering if it’s the right time or if it’s too soon. I think going to the Conference and reflecting on the time he spent with his wife will make him realize that it’s time to move on. Because at this point he’s done everything else that Abigail asked of him before she died. He let his boys know it’s okay to cry and fall apart and feel everything. He let them see him be weak and miss her and be a mess. He’s taken the boys to see their Aunt like he promised.

Although we don’t get confirmation on this he presumably keeps in touch with his mother. No word yet on whether Austin quit piano but it’s safe to assume that he did. He’s doing his best to keep an eye on Liam’s temper and make sure that he looks after Austin. But the one thing Cormac hasn’t done is let himself fall in love again until now. As Abigail said Cormac deserves to be happy and he shouldn’t feel guilty or beat himself up for moving on. I think spending time reflecting on that will help him see that it’s time to move on and move forward and that Meredith is a wonderful person who has the potential to be an amazing partner if he’s willing to take the risk and go for it.

When they first introduced Cormac as a character I had hoped that we’d get to see Meredith ask him out as we’ve never really seen that before. She’s usually the one who gets asked and we’ve never really seen her take an interest in someone of her own volition. All of her past romantic partners have all been people who either pursued her relentlessly even when she told them repeatedly to stop (which still bugs me) or people her friends pushed her into dating that she wasn’t really into. While I’d love to see her ask Cormac out on a date I think with everything that’s been going on with DeLuca she’d be reluctant to. DeLuca has had several very public meltdowns at this point. Most of which Cormac was present for. On top of that her best friend, Cormac’s co-chief, just up and left and the man whose been like a father to her since she was three is gravely ill.

Cormac knows all of that because he was either there at the time or heard about it after the fact. Meredith asking Cormac out with everything that’s going on could be seen by some as insensitive or too soon or inappropriate and I think Meredith is sensitive to that. People have been talking crap about her since Addison showed up in Season 1. She knows that which is why I think Cormac is going to have to be the one to ask her out. I have a feeling he’s been waiting for the right time, but as we all know with Meredith’s life there’s never a right time. Her life is always chaotic and there’s always something going wrong. I hope that with what he’s witnessed recently and the memories the Conference brought back Cormac can see that now and decides to go for it.

Back in the present, we find out why Cormac hates the sales rep so much. Cormac knows all about the firm's devices because their most popular model is used for minimally invasive hysterectomies. It turns out the device has little spinning claws that chop up fibroids, but the problem is that what looks like fibroids can in fact be cancer in which case the device spreads countless cancer cells to metastasize everywhere. Was anyone else horrified listening to Cormac describe that thing? It sounds terrifying and according to Cormac it’s just as deadly and awful as it sounds.

Yes it turns out the device this clueless sales rep is peddling is the device that killed Cormac’s wife Abigail. While explaining this Cormac takes the ice out the drink the rep gave him in order to illustrate his point. At that point I knew something was wrong and I think the rep should have too. Cormac was clearly agitated and the rep failed to pick up on that big time. That man should have read the room, apologized, and left. Instead he kept prattling on to Cormac and put his foot directly in his mouth by telling him that less than 1% of benign fibroids turn into uterine sarcomas.

Cormac says his wife Abigail was one of those 1%. That device took the mother of his boys and the firm is paying to suppress the proof that it kills people. He passes on the drink. The sales rep finally gets the memo and hightails it out of there. Cormac apologizes to Teddy for his outburst and leaves. And that’s what I like about Cormac. He gets loud and takes a stand when it matters, but he’s also quick to apologize for this behaviour. Not because he’s out of line but because he knows that behaving like that can be upsetting to other people and he knows that’s no fun to be around.

The big reveal about Richard comes towards the end of the episode shortly before Richard goes on stage to give his presentation. We see Richard in his hotel room, but as he looks back at Catherine she disappears. It turns out that she was never there to begin with. Richard’s been hallucinating all day and judging by his comment at the beginning his memory’s going as well. Which means it’s not just his hand and the problem is worse than we thought. Right at the end of the episode is when all of these worlds collide. We see Maggie wish Richard luck before his talk. Before heading into the lecture room herself she talks to Winston who talks about moving to Seattle or Boston to be together. Maggie, Cormac, and Teddy sit in the audience together and wait for the talk to begin. Back in Seattle we see Catherine pacing as Jackson sets up the live feed so they can see Richard’s presentation. It begins and Catherine says he looks handsome. Bailey joins them.

We see Meredith at her house sitting down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. Zola gets the livestream going and Meredith asks how she knows how to do that. To which she replies, “Mom, Everyone knows how to do this.” Haha she cracks me up! Richard takes the stage and his talk begins and that’s when everything goes awry. He says he’s not going to talk about his PATH Pen anymore because this morning, with his brilliant wife's help, he has found a way to cure cancer. It quickly becomes clear that something is wrong as Richard starts talking about curing cancer and flipping through slides with hand drawn pictures of hearts and lungs and an atomic explosion. Maggie turns to Cormac and tells him that something is wrong and to help her get a gurney and get him off the stage.

Back in Seattle, Catherine tells Jackson she thinks he’s drunk. Zola is confused too and asks her Mom what Uncle Richard is talking about. Meredith says she doesn’t know and realizing that something is wrong asks her to get her phone for her. Back at the Conference Maggie tries desperately to get Richard to leave the stage with her. He says he’s fine and tries to continue. And that’s when things go from bad to worse because he looks at Maggie, his own daughter, and asks who she is. Cormac tries to help guide him off the stage and in response Richard becomes uncharacteristically aggressive and pushes him telling him to get his hands off him. Maggie and Cormac forcibly remove him from the stage against his protests. Maggie tells them to cut the feed which they do and yells for someone to call 911.

As the episode ends, we see Maggie walking with the paramedics who are wheeling Richard out of the hotel on a gurney. Richard is confused and asks what's going on. As they leave they walk past Winston on their way out. This scene absolutely gutted me! It was so hard to watch! Also where does Catherine get off saying he’s drunk? That man has been sober for years. He’s not cheating on her and all of their problems are in her head goddamnit. My heart broke for Maggie as she realized something was terribly wrong. My heart broke again for Meredith as she sat at home and realized the same thing but was unable to help from so far away.

Until next time!

#grey's anatomy #Meredith Grey #cormac hayes #maggie pierce #teddy altman #richard webber #zola grey shepherd #catherine fox #jackson avery #16X19 #love of my life #lgbtq representation

31 notes · View notes

spoookymuulders · 5 years ago

Text

you make my heart beat like the rain

read it on ao3 here total word count: 11,187 chapter word count: 4,120 warnings: none

chapter three. and all of these moments just might find their way into my dreams tonight. in which abigail williams spills her coffee.

The first time Penelope Garcia walked into May Castillo’s shop, May was sure she was lost. After all, why would someone who dressed like a walking, talking rainbow come into the local new age shop? But Penelope had puttered around for a while before selecting a few crystals and bringing them to the counter with a big, broad smile, and now, May finds herself hoping that it’s Penelope coming in every time the door to the shop opens.

It usually is.

Today is no different. May is sitting at the counter, flipping through a book slowly when the door opens and she spies the tell-tale bright pink of Penelope’s favorite pair of heels.

“Morning, Penelope.” She calls. Penelope pokes her head around a book display, smiling sweetly, and May feels her heart jump.

“Hi!” Penelope says brightly. She comes to the counter and sets a paper cup on the table, grinning. “I got you a coffee.” May blinks twice, looking between Penelope and the coffee for a moment.

“Why?” She asks finally. The smile on Penelope’s face falters for half a second, but May notices and grabs the coffee, taking a sip - it’s perfect, just the way she likes it.

“I remembered you saying the other day that your coffee machine at home broke, so I thought I’d treat you to some.” Penelope tells her. May watches her for another moment, then smiles, reaching over and squeezing Penelope’s hand lightly.

“Thanks, Pen.” She says gently. Penelope’s smile is back full force now as she beams at May, and May takes a moment to consider how different they truly are. Penelope’s dress today is a deep blue with flowers printed all over it. She wears a bright pink cardigan over top of it to match her bright pink heels, and her hair is done up in big curls.

May, however, lands on the opposite end of the spectrum. While Penelope is all bright colors and fun patterns, May is much more comfortable in Earth tones - today, for instance, she’s opted for a pair of sienna-colored skinny jeans and an ivory sweater. And Penelope’s heels add a solid five inches to her height, while May’s deep brown flats do nothing for hers.

How exactly they ended up becoming such close friends, May isn’t sure. And she’s not sure she’ll ever really know, but she’s okay with that. If she had to say, she’d tell you it’s probably just because Penelope has such a loud personality, and they balance each other out. The very first time she’d come into the shop, Penelope had ended up inviting May over for a girls night with herself and her friends JJ and Emily five minutes in. And May wasn’t exactly new in town - she’d been living there for about four years at the time - but she didn’t exactly have many friends, either, so she’d taken the blonde up on the offer.

And she’d found herself with three new friends and a recurring girls night every Friday. Eventually, Penelope had involved a few of the other girls in town - Abby (who worked with her at the animal sanctuary), Callie (the nurse at Callahan Elementary and Abby’s twin sister), and Ellie (who ran the diner).

“Did you hear there’s a new girl in town?” Penelope asks, leaning against the counter and bringing May back to the present. May chuckles, nodding - Penelope is always the best source for gossip, and May’s fairly certain that she knows the gossip about certain people before they even know they’re being gossipped about.

“I saw her walk by yesterday.” May hums, sipping at her coffee. “I think Abby said she’s staying over at Haley’s. I was thinking about bringing her some muffins or something.”

“Oh my gosh, we should totally bake her something!” Penelope gasps, and May admires the way her entire face lights up at the very idea of it. “We could ask Kristy for help, too! May, that would be so fun!” May laughs softly, nodding.

“Alright, let’s get together and bake her something, then.” She chuckles. Penelope squeals and claps lightly, then glances at her watch.

“I gotta go, but I’ll text you about baking! We’ll make a whole girls night of it!” She says, waving as she scurries away. May watches her go, shaking her head fondly as her heels click-click-click out of the shop, then sighs slowly. She shakes herself a little, forcing herself out of her daydreams, and busies herself with rearranging the items on the counter.

****

If there’s one thing Abigail Williams hates, it’s being late. To anything, really, but especially to work. The line at the coffee shop didn’t seem to care this morning, however, and she rushes into the animal sanctuary five minutes late, immeasurably grateful that Penelope doesn’t actually care all that much if she’s late as long as she shows up.

“I’m here, Pen!” She shouts, hurrying around the counter and setting the coffees down. She tugs off her coat and hangs it up before flopping into her chair, spinning it back towards the desk as she settles. “I come bearing coffee!” The familiar clicking of Penelope’s heels announces her arrival and Abby looks up with a sheepish smile as her boss and best friend emerges from the back hall. She holds up Penelope’s coffee and the blonde grins at her, leaning down to peck her cheek lightly.

“Emily’s supposed to come by today with some new designs for the wall mural.” Penelope says, leaning on the counter. “Other than that, we don’t have a whole lot going on today.” Abby nods, sipping at her own coffee and humming - maybe she’ll actually get to meet the elusive Emily Prentiss today. Every time she’s gone to a girls night, Emily’s had to reschedule for some reason or another and Abby’s started to wonder if she actually exists. After a moment, she looks up at Penelope and squints.

“You saw May this morning, didn’t you?” She asks. Penelope gapes at her, sputtering for a moment.

“How do you always know?” Penelope whines, and Abby laughs quietly.

“You get this goofy smile whenever you go see her, Pen.” The brunette says, “It’s so painfully obvious how much you like her.”

“Do you think she knows?” Penelope asks anxiously. Abby shakes her head.

“Nah. I think she’s totally clueless, honestly. But you should ask her out!” She says.

“Oh, no. No no no, I couldn’t do that.” Penelope says quickly, shaking her head. “Nope. If I ask her out and she doesn’t feel the same way that ruins everything, Ab!” Before either of them can say anything else, the buzzer at the back door sounds and they jump a little.

“That must be the shipment of the new dog food for Mrs. Carson.” Abby says as a car pulls up to the curb. She hops up and grabs her coffee, waving a hand. “You do this, I’ll go deal with the delivery.” And with that, she scurries to the back door as the buzzer sounds again, her pale pink skirt flouncing around her knees as she goes. The bell above the door jingles brightly as Emily slips inside and grins at Penelope.

“What’s up, PG?” She asks, hugging Penelope lightly. She steps back and sets a folder on the counter, flipping it open and laying out a few images she’s drawn up on her iPad over the past week or so. The two get so wrapped up in talking about and planning the mural that neither of them notices Abby’s reappearance until the door into the back hall closes and they both turn around.

As soon as Abby lays eyes on Emily, she drops her coffee. As it splashes against her shins, she thanks whatever higher power there is that she’d decided to go with an iced coffee instead of a hot today. But looking at Emily Prentiss, who could blame her for losing her grip on everything? Because Emily Prentiss, with her dark hair and dark eyes and fair skin and sweet smile, is the most beautiful woman Abby’s ever seen.

She squeaks, the chill of the coffee jerking her back to reality and she rushes to grab the paper towels from the desk. As she starts wiping up the coffee, a pair of black boots steps into her vision and she looks up, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. Emily is crouched in front of her, helping to wipe up the coffee and handing her the now-empty cup with a gentle smile.

“Hi.” Emily says.

“Hi.” Abby returns softly. They stand and Abby hurries to toss the paper towels into the trash before drying her hands with another one quickly. Emily approaches and holds out a hand, one which Abby takes and shakes lightly. Penelope watches the interaction with narrowed eyes.

“I’m Emily. You must be Abby?”

Abby nods, clearing her throat. “It’s nice to meet you finally.” She says. Emily grins and nods.

“You too.” She says warmly. “Penelope talks about you all the time, I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to meet sooner.” Abby nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear absently. “I was almost starting to think you didn’t exist.”

Abby blinks at that, then smiles. “I was starting to think the same about you.” She says, and when she giggles, Emily’s heart flutters. Emily’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she digs it out, huffing quietly.

“I’ve gotta go, Pen, but look over those designs and text me!” She says. As she leaves, she glances over her shoulder and gives Abby one last smile. “Nice to meet you.” She says. Abby nods, watching her go. As soon as she’s out the door, Abby sighs softly and puts her hands to her cheeks.

“You never said she was gorgeous.” She says dreamily. Penelope laughs brightly and guides Abby back towards her chair behind the desk. “Seriously, Pen, in all the times you’ve mentioned her, you never told me how pretty she is.” Abby flops into her chair and puts her chin in her hand, watching as Emily’s car pulls away from the curb. Chuckling quietly, Penelope pats Abby’s shoulder gently.

“Now who’s got the crush?” She teases gently, laughing and hurrying away when Abby turns and throws a pompom decoration at her.

****

Zoe is slowly starting to learn her way around town - granted, she’s only been here for two-and-a-half weeks, but she’s figuring it out. She’s still on the hunt for an apartment of her own and she’s slowly warming up to the people she’s met. Luke and Hotch were easy to warm up to; Luke because he’s like the human embodiment of a golden retriever, Hotch because he reminds Zoe of her favorite uncle. JJ had introduced Zoe to a bunch of her friends at a girls night her first weekend in town, and she’d opened up to them almost immediately - her walls are still up, naturally, but it’s easier to warm up and let herself be a little more vulnerable around other women.

And then there’s Spencer Reid.

She can’t quite figure Spencer out. When JJ had first told Zoe about him, she’d said he was like a gentle giant, and from what Zoe’s seen so far, that’s accurate. Spencer is six-foot-one and looks like he weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet, and she’s kind of terrified of him. But the kindness in his eyes and the warm smiles he gives her every time they see each other out around town are slowly pulling her out of her shell around him. Which is good, she supposes, considering JJ is her best friend and Spencer seems to hang around JJ more than anyone else.

Speak of the devil. As she parks outside the general store and climbs out, a familiar-sounding truck parks two spots down and Spencer climbs out, smiling and waving when he sees her. She waves back and heads for the front door, glancing to the side when Spencer jogs over and falls into step beside her.

“Hi.” He says, grinning down at her. She glances up and offers a small smile of her own.

“Hi.” She returns, pausing just inside the door to grab a basket. Spencer does the same, keeping pace beside Zoe easily. “Are you just gonna follow me around the store?” She asks, her tone teasing, glancing at him over her shoulder as he pauses to grab a box of cereal. Spencer chuckles, shrugging.

“Maybe I just so happen to need things from the same aisles as you.” He says. Zoe smiles a little, shaking her head, but she doesn’t say anything else. “Any luck finding an apartment?”

“Not yet.” Zoe sighs, rubbing her cheek with her good hand as they wander. “JJ and Penelope are gonna help me look this weekend. Penelope said she thinks there’s one opening up in her building.” Spencer hums.

“You could always ask Morgan.” He tells her. When she glances up at him with a furrowed brow, he points towards the front of the shop, where Morgan is standing and chattering with Krystall, both of them laughing brightly. “He fixes up houses and rents them out, I think one of them has apartments in it.” Zoe nods thoughtfully, making a mental note of that.

“How are things on the ranch?” She asks, pausing to grab a box of pasta. She pushes onto her toes in an attempt to reach a jar of pasta sauce, settling back down when Spencer leans over her and snags it. She takes it from him with a soft thank you.

“Pretty good. Penelope’s trying really hard to get me to host a party or something after Halloween.” He hums. Zoe laughs softly, nodding - that sounds about right for Penelope Garcia. “But I’m already hosting Thanksgiving, I don’t know if I could plan something else.”

“Have Penelope plan it.” Zoe says simply, shrugging lightly. Spencer chuckles, nodding.

“There’s an idea.” He muses. “I’ll think about that.” They continue their impromptu mutual shopping trip, chattering lightly about everything and nothing, and Zoe finds herself relaxing more and more as they talk. When they’re both finished, they make their way to the checkout lanes and unload their baskets. As the kid at the register is scanning Zoe’s groceries, Spencer calls Morgan over.

“Hey kid.” Morgan says with a grin, clapping Spencer on the shoulder lightly. Spencer returns the greeting as Zoe glances over and digs her wallet out of her purse.

“Morgan, this is Zoe. Zoe, Derek Morgan.” Spencer says. Zoe nods and shakes Morgan’s hand lightly after she sticks her card into the machine. “Morgan, one of your houses has apartments in it, right?”

“Yeah, the one on White Street. Why? That ranch of yours finally get to be too much?” Morgan teases. Spencer rolls his eyes with a smile.

“The ranch is fine. Zoe just moved to town and is looking for an apartment.” Spencer says. Morgan raises his brows and glances at Zoe, who nods, cheeks burning.

“How soon do you need it?” He asks. Zoe shrugs.

“I’m staying at the B&B right now.” She tells him softly. Morgan nods thoughtfully.

“Well, one of the apartments in the White Street house is open. If you want it, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Morgan says. Zoe looks up at him and she can feel tears burning behind her eyes but she wills them back.

“Really?” She asks quietly. Morgan tips his head, frowning just so.

“Yeah. There’s no furniture in it, but it’s available.” He says gently. Zoe bites the inside of her lip hard and nods.

“That - thank you.” She says. Morgan smiles gently now, nodding. Reaching over the conveyor belt, he snags a scrap of paper and scribbles his name and number on it, along with the address of the house.

“Gimme a call later and I’ll get you the key so you can check it out.” He says. Zoe nods and takes the paper, gathering her bags and stepping aside as Morgan slips away. She watches him go, then follows Spencer out of the shop quietly. Tucking her bags into her trunk, she closes it and leans against the car for a moment, staring at the ground. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when Spencer’s shoes appear in her vision and she glances up to see him looking at her, frowning lightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. Zoe clears her throat quickly and nods.

“I wasn’t expecting to find an apartment today.” She says, hoping her voice sounds more confident than she feels. Spencer nods, watching her, not looking entirely convinced, but he drops it.

“Well - hey, I have to drop my groceries off at home, but uh.. Do you want me to come with you? To look at the apartment?” He asks gently. Zoe bites her cheek and nods after a moment.

“That’d be good.” She says. Spencer smiles gently and nods.

“I’ll come by the B&B in a couple hours.” He tells her. Zoe nods again, watching him go back to his truck, and climbs into the front seat of her little yellow punchbuggy. She exhales slowly and heads towards the B&B, managing to keep herself together until she gets to her room. As soon as the door is closed behind her, she sinks to the floor and leans against the bed and promptly bursts into tears.

She’s not sure how long she’s been sitting like that when a timid knock sounds at her door. She sniffles and wipes her cheeks quickly, then stands and clears her throat as she pads over to open the door. Jack stands on the other side, looking up at her with a frown on his little face.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Zoe feels a fresh wave of tears well in her eyes and she nods quickly. Before she can say anything, however, Jack throws his arms around her middle and hugs her tightly. Startled, she settles her arms around his shoulders and relaxes after a moment, exhaling unsteadily. Jack squeezes her waist and looks up at her, brown eyes warm and worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, buddy.” She says softly, brushing his hair back gently. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m just feeling.. A little overwhelmed.”

“Why?” Jack asks quietly, frowning. Zoe sighs slowly, considering the best way to answer his question. She steps out of his embrace and pads over to the window, perching on the cushion there and patting the spot beside her. Jack climbs up and sits next to her, scooting as close as he can.

“For a long time, it seemed like.. Like only bad things were happening to me.” She tells him, brushing her good hand through his hair gently. He tucks himself into her side, frowning up at her. “And I was really sad for a long time. But since I moved here, I’ve made some friends and I’m feeling happy again. And it feels like good things are happening more and more often, and it just overwhelmed me.”

“I think that’s how daddy felt when we moved here.” Jack says thoughtfully. Zoe looks down at him and brushes his hair back, letting him sit with his thoughts for a moment before he continues. “He was really sad all the time. But we made lots of friends! And we talk to mommy sometimes at night. I think that helps.” Zoe smiles softly, nodding.

“How do you talk to her?” She asks.

“Daddy lights a candle before bed and we tell her about our day, and then we blow it out.” Jack tells her. Zoe nods, humming thoughtfully.

“That sounds nice.” She says softly, leaning down to kiss his hair gently. “I’m sure your mommy loves hearing from you like that.” Jack smiles up at her and hugs her again, and Zoe closes her eyes, settling her arms around the boy’s shoulders and resting her cheek to her hair.

If there’s one thing she’s learned in her years of teaching, it’s that there’s nothing quite like a hug from a child to help you feel better, no matter what the problem is. When her grandmother had passed and she’d taken a few days off to go to the funeral, she’d come back to a massive group hug from the kids she’d been student-teaching. When she’d been home sick with the flu and had finally come back, she’d gotten a huge hug from each of her students as they’d come in that morning. She rubs Jack’s back slowly, humming softly, and glances up when she hears footsteps outside the door.

Hotch is standing there, arms crossed, a small smile on his lips. Jack looks up and grins at his father, wiggling out of Zoe’s arms and running across the room. Hotch scoops him up and hugs him tightly for a moment.

“Zoe, Spencer’s here.” Hotch says, setting Jack back on the floor. Jack’s eyes light up and he scoots around Hotch’s legs, sprinting for the stairs and shouting for Spencer. Zoe nods and clears her throat.

“Do I look like a mess?” She asks. Hotch chuckles and shakes his head, picking up her sweater and holding it out. Zoe takes it and slips it on.

“You look fine.” He promises gently. Zoe nods, fiddling with the hem of the sweater before looking up at Hotch again.

“He’s an amazing kid.” She says softly. Hotch glances towards the stairs as they slip out of Zoe’s room, smiling softly as Jack shouts something about Star Wars with Spencer. “You’ve done an incredible job with him.”

“I’ve had help.” Hotch says honestly. “It was hard when we first moved here, but we’ve made friends. A family.” Zoe nods again, glancing up as Hotch catches her arm gently at the top of the stairs. The moment of panic that bubbles in her chest is mitigated by the gentleness in Hotch’s eyes.

“I want you to know that you can talk to me.” He says softly. Zoe watches him, brows furrowing just so as she contemplates his words. “About anything - good, bad, whatever’s going on. Like I said when you first got here, JJ didn’t tell me much about what was going on, just that it was an emergency, but if you need someone to talk to.. I’m here.”

Zoe feels tears burn behind her eyes for the third time this afternoon and she nods, offering a small smile.

“Thank you.” She says softly. Hotch smiles gently and squeezes her shoulder lightly, and she follows him downstairs.

****

Zoe stands in the middle of the empty living room, turning around in a circle slowly. Morgan and Spencer watch her from the doorway, both with small smiles. Pushing away from the wall, Morgan joins Zoe in the middle of the room and puts his hands on his hips.

“What d’you think?” He asks. Zoe looks up at him, her eyes bright, and when she smiles Spencer thinks it looks like the sun coming through the clouds on a rainy day.

“It’s perfect.” She says softly. Morgan beams at her and squeezes her shoulder gently, then digs the key out of his pocket and holds it out.

“It’s all yours, sweetheart.” He says. Zoe takes the key slowly and stares up at Morgan for a long moment before she throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly. He laughs softly, surprised at the contact, and returns the hug, patting her back gently. He squeezes her shoulders again when she steps back.

“Thank you so much.” Zoe says. Morgan smiles warmly and nods.

“Don’t mention it. And if you need anything at all, my number’s on the fridge.” He tells her. Zoe nods and watches Morgan go, exhaling and looking around the living room again before her eyes land on Spencer, who grins at her.

“Welcome home.” He says. Zoe smiles again and Spencer feels his heart flip-flop within his ribs.

“Thank you for coming with me.” She says. Spencer nods, moving to stand beside her and looking around the room slowly. “Now I just gotta find furniture - I hate moving.” Spencer laughs softly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, lucky for you, you know someone with a truck and who knows all the best antique stores in a fifty-mile radius. Plus there’s a Walmart in Freeport if you need it.” He says. Zoe laughs quietly and smiles up at Spencer again, biting her lip for a moment as she considers her next question carefully. Spencer begins to meander around the perimeter of the room, peeking out the windows curiously.

“Hey.” She says, crossing her arms as he turns around, brows raised. “Maybe you could take me on that tour of the town you promised?”

Spencer blinks once, then smiles softly.

“I’d love to.”

#mine*#tiny town au #au: electric love #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #emily prentiss x oc #penelope garcia x oc #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

8 notes · View notes

ask-marcus-cally-and-ari · 5 years ago

Text

Only Human

Chapter 9: Breather

As the van made its way through the forest, Marcus asked, “So what’s your deal?”

“Doctor kidnapped me and a Sniper, cut us up, then put my head on the Snipers body,” Spyper shrugged. “I’ve been stuck as a hybrid ever since.”

Marcus winced. “Oh… wow. Uh. That sucks. What happened to the other head and body?”

“The Medic made another hybrid. Sny. Me and him are good friends, although it does get kinda weird at times since...Y’know, he has my body. And we both have this weird tick where we’ll switch into the other's voice for a moment,” Spyper replied, gesturing to his neck.

“Oh. What does that even feel like?”

“Uh… It's hard to explain. Have you ever had sleep paralysis? Where you know you’re awake and you’re aware of what's going on, but you can’t do anything about it?”

Ari nodded. “I know what that is.”

“It’s kinda like that. My brain gets paralyzed for a moment and I can’t do anything when that tick starts going, even though I know it's happening.”

Marcus winced. “That must suck.” Briefly, the teen looked up at the van ceiling, hand on his gun.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Bad experience with things above me.” Marcus relaxed upon seeing nothing on the ceiling. “You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I understand. I once fought Brutal myself.”

“Oh, wow!” Ari beamed. “Did you win?”

“I did. Cut his head right off,” Spyper chuckled, punctuating his words by sharply jerking his hand across his throat.

Ari whimpered, suddenly very pale- and far less excited.

“Hey, he was terrorizing a team, and I just happened to drop by,” Spyper shrugged.

Marcus leaned over. “Real talk, man,” he whispered, “Please try not to go into detail with stuff like that. Ari… isn’t that kind of person.”

“Oh, sorry. It’s not often I meet people who are faint of heart. Y’know, I hang around Freaks all day. ‘Faint of heart’ isn’t exactly common with us.”

"That's obvious," Cally responded dryly.

“Jester and Pure fit the bill, though,” Spyper added, glancing back at Ari and Cally. “Well, not so much Pure.”

"Who?"

“Christian Pure Spy. He’s a priest that lives nearby.”

“Who’s he running with as far as other Freaks?” Marcus asked.

“He’s friends with me Intelligent, and looks after Chaos Kin and Jester. He’s also friends with Polite Spy...But uh...That’s about as far as his good connections go,” Spyper said awkwardly.

“So he’s a good guy?” Ari asked.

“By himself? Yes. But he has some… questionable friends outside of the ones I listed.”

“Define questionable, please,” Cally requested.

“He’s friends with Christian Brutal Sniper and Gentlespy,” Intelligent answered, looking up from the chessboard.

Marcus twitched, then sighed. “Yeah, let’s stay our @sses away from there.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Ari winced.

“What about that Jester person you keep mentioning?” Cally asked.

“Count Jester is their full name. They’re on the more lighthearted side of Freaks,” Spyper replied, clearing his throat.

“Friends?”

“Me, Intelligent, Chaos, Pure, Pancakes...A whole bunch of people, actually.”

“Who’s Chaos?” Ari asked. “Good guy?”

“Chaos Kin? Yeah, she’s a good guy. A bit aggressive, but that’s really only towards people she doesn’t like.”

“Can we trust her?”

“Against Freaks like Brutal? Yeah, you can trust her,” Intelligent said. “She’s helped several good Freaks since becoming a Freak herself. She’s helped Medizard, Dr. Dum and Mr. Dan, SomeCleanTrash, Weaselcake, Bellatrix…” Intelligent listed off a handful of different Freaks. “If you asked her, she’d probably help you.”

“How many Freaks can we trust?” Cally asked. “And is there a database for you guys?”

“There is, but HECU are the ones who maintain it, and are the only people who can access it,” Spyper replied.

Cally raised an eyebrow and pulled out her laptop. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

“Like you can get through HECU’s firewalls-”

“I just did. Marcus, Ari. Check this out.”

Marcus snickered at the look on Spyper’s face. “Impressed?”

“How did you get past their firewalls!?” Spyper spluttered.

“With my laptop. Alright, let’s see here...”

“All you have is a laptop, and aren’t you 17? How on Earth did you get past the firewalls of such a heavily guarded agency?” Intelligent implored, taken aback.

“The only reason whoever sent Christian Brutal Sniper and Gentlespy found me is because I got past the firewalls guarding the plan to cause basically the end of the world as we know it.”

“How you got these skills, I will never understand.”

“My parents used to refuse to feed me if I forgot to do something or didn’t do a good enough job. I had to make money somehow. Ethical hacking was a good way to do it.”

Ari whined upon hearing this. “They what?”

Intelligent and Spyper gave each other pale and mortified looks.

“What?” Cally asked, tilting her head.

“That is so beyond not ok,” Spyper grimaced.

“Got me the hacking skills I’m probably gonna need.”

“Jester has their work cut out with you,” Spyper sighed turning back to the road.

Cally shrugged and went back to the laptop.

Rudra was bowed over her desk, hunched over her computer and rigorously scrubbing through every piece of footage of the three teens she could get her hands on. First was the viral video of them fleeing Brutal, then there was a series of videos from the motel they had stayed at, and finally, a very short clip of them fleeing that very motel at night. It wasn’t much, but visuals on the teens could at least help her agents pinpoint the exact people they were looking for. And this combined with the knowledge they already had would make the process of searching for and identifying these three when found all the easier.

A knock at her door, along with a soft white glow, interrupted her process.

Rudra sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. “I knew you’d show up eventually.”

“I was given a tip that the Heart, the Brain, and the Body had awakened, so I came to talk to you.” A black woman in a white robe stepped in. “What can you tell me about them?”

“All three of them are teenagers. Barely out of high school,” Rudra replied dryly.

The woman, who had been sipping a drink, choked on it. “What?!”

“I was just as shocked as you are. Why do you think my agents are running around like mad trying to find them?”

“This is preposterous! They were supposed to select ideal hosts!”

“Well, I guess they took that a bit too literally. From what I can tell, instead of picking people who already possess the qualities the powers are best suited to, the powers decided to build ideal hosts from the ground up by literally joining with them in the womb,” Rudra sighed, rubbing her temples. “I mean, why else would the powers decide to join with literal children?”

The woman put her head in her hands. “This is not how it was supposed to go!”

“Was there no way to ensure the powers would go to people who already possessed the qualities they needed, Mercy?” Rudra implored. “Was there no way to ensure they wouldn’t go such an extreme route?”

“Had I thought that this option was on the table, I would have forbidden it.”

“And now three kids are stuck with having to save the world,” Rudra sighed incredulously.

“Oh, bother. Do they at least show promise?”

“They do. From the security footage we pulled from the motel they stayed at, we can see their powers activating. Most notably with Ari, the bearer of the Heart.” Rudra pulled up the video feed and turned the computer monitor towards Mercy.

“Hmm. Ari did not take the negative emotion well. They’re tender-hearted, aren’t they?”

“Seems like it. They’re an empath. Ari wears their heart on their sleeve. Literally. Look where the Heart’s mark showed up.” Rudra pulled up the feed from Brutals confrontation with the teens and showed it to Mercy.

“The girl with the Brain. She has not used her powers yet.”

“No, but she has already demonstrated intellect indicative of the Brain. She managed to get past the firewall that kept outsiders away from the plan to convert the Earth's population into Freaks. Her breaking down the firewall is actually how they even got into this mess.”

“Given how I overheard a few members of your cybersecurity team panicking on my way here, I believe that’s not the only firewall she got past.”

“Excuse me?”

“Apparently, within five minutes of the first breach, an attacker broke into your system and downloaded your Freak database before leaving the system. Your team is still trying to figure out what happened.”

Rudra exhaled sharply and held her head in her hands, going silent. “I didn’t fight a war just to be saddled with this sh@t,” She groaned.

“I didn’t get cut in half to handle this either.” Mercy sighed. “I understand why she did it, though. The Brain’s purpose is to gather information and utilize it correctly. Information concerning what she and the other two are up against would be a great help.”

“My question is: Why didn’t they come to us for the information? HECU literally builds itself on protecting people from Freaks, why wouldn’t HECU be their first option as far as refuge goes?”

“Perhaps paranoia. Given their situation, paranoia is perfectly justified,” Mercy pointed out. “I recall attacking you and the Legion at some point the first time you visited my hideout over paranoia.”

“And the fact that I was at the forefront of the army should have tipped you in that we were not there to fight,” Rudra sighed, dragging her hands across her face in exasperation.

“You have never liked me. Besides, it had been a long thousand years. Paranoia was justified given the situation. Speaking of new situations, how are the wife and daughter? Did she like the sword staff?”

Rudra jerked her head up. “...Sword staff? I don’t even own a sword staff. Mercy, what did you do?”

“I gave her a present. And trained her on safe handling. You knew the possibility existed when you asked me to babysit.”

“I expect this from Hero, not you,” Rudra groaned.

“We both know I have an affinity for bladed weapons.” Mercy looked around. “Does the bearer of the Body share that affinity?”

“No. The only weapon we’ve seen him wield is a handgun he carries.”

“Oh. Is he good with it?”

“He is. And he’s cunning. He faked being shot to get Brutal to lower his guard, then shot him in the heart.”

Mercy grinned. “Impressive,” she mused. “Mankind might actually have a chance.”

“Now if only the powers didn’t choose a bunch of kids to be humanity’s saving grace,” Rudra groused.

“Indeed. Or, as you mentioned being possible, create them,” Mercy sighed. “I certainly hope it never enters their heads that they are weapons if that’s the case.”

“No. The last thing these kids need is to act like they’re weapons and nothing more. That’ll do more damage than it’ll help.”

“I am aware. Especially the empath. When I think about it, perhaps the power to take on others’ emotions was not a good idea to give them without them first learning to control it.”

“You think?”

“I would have prepared for that had I known it would happen,” groaned Mercy. “As it stands, I will keep close tabs on them. I suggest you do the same.”

In Spyper's van, the Trio was reading over the database. “So, Spyper, you have a clone or something? Or just someone created the same way? What is RED Spyper to you?”

“An enemy. I’m pretty sure the doctor who made me created him too as a form of spite,” Spyper groused, scowling heavily. “He’s basically my evil counterpart. A doppelganger, kind of.”

“An evil twin? Like on TV?” Ari asked.

“Eh...I guess.”

“Cool!”

“Cool to you. Not to me! That Spyper’s been a pain in my a$$ for years!”

“Oh. That’s bad.”

Marcus glanced at Cally, who was staring at the screen, tattoo and eyes glowing pink, face void of emotion. “Uh… Cal? What’s going on?”

“Is something wrong back there?” Spyper asked, looking over his seat.

“Cal?” Ari whined. “Cal, cut it out! Say something!”

No luck. Cally gave a noise akin to a computer hum.

“Hey, hey! Kid, come on, snap out of it!” Intelligent urged, shaking Cally by the shoulder.

Cally didn’t reply; she locked eyes with Intelligent, keeping at least one hand on the laptop.

“Kid? Kid, can you hear me?” Intelligent implored, growing increasingly worried by Cally’s continued silence.

Cally’s eyes shone, glowing pink voids, hungry for… something. And then, in an instant, the light fell away, replaced with the soft brown eyes she had normally. “Ugh,” she groaned, “my head.”

“Cal? Are you ok?” Ari exclaimed, climbing to Cally’s side.

“I- huh? What happened?”

“You blacked out, Cal,” Marcus replied, crossing his arms.

“Oh… crap,” Cally groaned. “Good to know. We need to get help.”

“And that’s exactly where we’re going. I’m bringing you three to HECU. In the meantime, you three should probably get some rest. It’s a long trip there,” Spyper said.

#marcus #cally #ari #spyper #intelligent heavy #rudra #mercy

3 notes · View notes

unholyhelbiglinked · 5 years ago

Text

Project Skeptic | Chapter 1

Read from the Start | Read on AO3

Summer 2019

The first thing that she realized was the taste of blood. It was subtle at first, a light dance across her tongue with a metallic edge. But then it was dry, dry enough to make her want to dart her tongue out against her lips and dull the throbbing edge. She had a headache, that was observation number two. Number three came in the form of the thick restraint against her wrists, burning and unrelenting.

You don’t ever trust a stranger, Emily. Her mothers’ words would echo through her mind like a steel drum against an empty corridor. When she was younger it never made any sense. The mailman was just as strange to her as someone in a dark hoodie with unkempt hair. If they didn’t offer up a handshake was she supposed to remain on high alert? Katherine Junk would be spiteful right about now. Spiteful or worried.

Emily pulled her head back, drawing in a sharp breath as an undeniable ache pulsed against her spine. She was in a chair, one that creaked and groaned under her weight. Her consciousness was barely there but started to spark; there was a fire nearby, she could smell it and feel its heat on the side of her face. The room had a sweet and floral scent to it.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

Loud. God that voice was loud and oh so familiar. Emily wasn’t fully there, her heartbeat deafening in her ears as she made a jumble of noise past her lips. Her whole body was stiff, and she blinked a few times to get used to the coloring of her surroundings, dark and rustic, and she could swear up and down that there was a Christmas tree situated in the corner. It had multi-colored lights and way too much tinsel. It had been meticulously applied branch by branch.

“I hit you pretty hard there, huh?” The voice was calling attention and Emily blinked three more times before focusing. The figure was, in fact, shaded in a deep orange that flickered against the floor sporadically. She was dressed casually, normally. Not like someone who would kidnap a person; a dark green sweater and jeans that contrasted from her deep ginger hair. Her eyes, even in the light from the fire, were sparkling like broken waves. “You’re okay though, you’re strong.”

Emily drew in an easier breath and clenched her jaw, which was sore too. Claire, Callie maybe even Chelsea Emily’s mind was searching for a name to the face. It was her next-door neighbor; she can remember the conversations they’ve had at the mailboxes and the golden lettering on their forest green door. She recalls that this woman has a wife, a music producer that’s too grumpy for her own good, but her name. God, what was her name?

“What’s going on?” Emily asked, swallowing the bloodied taste in her mouth. Her voice was dry enough to be unrecognizable. “Where am I?”

“That’s classified, I’m afraid. But we’ll get to that depending on how well you take this.”

“Take what? Being kidnapped?” She let out a small groan and rolled her neck again. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t remember much; the walk home from work, the elevator ride up with her neighbor nodding and asking her about her plans for the rest of summer. Emily explained she would work like she always did and struggled to find her keys in her bag. She remembers an earth-shattering pain in her temple and a warm sensation before everything went dark.

The woman let out a deep sigh as if Emily was inconveniencing her. Maybe she was at this point. She sat down on the edge of a leather reading chair that was positioned right across from the wooden seat that Emily was fastened to. It had a large studded back and reminded Emily of something that would accompany a glass of scotch and imported cigar wrapped in gold.

“I’m Chloe, I didn’t’ technically kidnap you, and this is a secret organization dedicated to keeping the holiday season sacred.” She had rushed out her words like a band-aid and Emily wasn’t sure if this woman was completely nuts or if she wasn’t exactly hearing her right over the pounding in her ears.

None of this registered, however, so Emily simply said, “But it’s only June.”

“Oh, I know,” Chloe slumped back in her seat completely, letting her hands hang over the sides of the chair. “We’re so behind schedule. Recruitment was supposed to be in May but being so close to you proved very difficult. There’s a lot we have to catch you up on, Emily.”

“Can you-?” Emily tugged at her restraints, trying not to flinch too hard at the stinging pain that moved through her skin as she shifted. The woman lifted her eyebrows and moved forward, almost as if she had forgotten entirely.

“Yeah, sorry about this. We’re not usually so violent but it’s not every day that you refuse orders from the big guy. You know, don’t you? You work for some big television company.”

Chloe talked too fast, Emily decided. She had an innocent edge about her, and at this point, she didn’t’ care if she had to keep the conversation up. She reached to the side table and pulled a golden crafted letter opener, gently trying to saw through the rope. It came undone easily and Emily let out a relieved breath she didn’t’ know she was harboring. She rubbed the raw skin, eyes searching the room.

It looked like the inside of a cabin that her family used to rent by the lake, from the stone figures all the way to the throw that was draped over the edge of the chair Chloe sat in. It was too eerie, too familiar. There wasn’t a door, that same flutter bubbling in Emily’s chest.

“You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“You hit me in the head. I’m afraid I don’t’ believe you.”

She was scared to move her fingers up to her temple. She was sure it was sticky. She could practically feel the blood that has soaked into the collar of her shirt. Instead, she resided into staring into blue eyes that looked silver.

“Do you believe in Santa, Emily?”

Did she? It was a loaded question. The fiction of it all was ripped away violently when she woke up to her mother’s hand wedged under her pillow when she lost her first tooth. She was a light sleeper. Emily remembered crying as she asked her mom about a bunny who hid eggs and a man who delivered toys in exchanged for burnt cookies and room temperature milk.

“You stopped believing when you were six years old. After that Christmas didn’t’ feel the same anymore, and your mom would let you pick out what you wanted at the store, didn’t’ she?” Chloe asked, “You knew what was under the tree every single year until the tree vanished completely and was replaced by a card with a fifty-dollar bill in it.”

Emily slumped back in her seat, because yes, that was exactly what happened. It didn’t’ feel so sad when her mother told her she was going on a cruise instead of sticking around and dealing with the stress of the holiday season. The way Chloe told the story deflated her. A story that she hadn’t talked about, not even to Aubrey.

“Say you are telling the truth,” Emily started “Say you’re apart of a secret organization that rotates around Christmas… what do I have to do with it?”

The younger woman wasn’t sure why she was entertaining the idea. It might be the pounding in the side of her head or the fact that her bubbly little neighbor had a complete backstory on how her Christmases had played out, but she simply dug her fingers into her sore shoulder and looked at Chloe was expectancy.

“The world is changing, Emily. It’s growing bigger, some would even argue better, by each day. For the past five years it’s been too much for one man with a couple of reindeer to handle, you know? The old guys retired.”

“Is he now?”

There was sarcasm leaking past her voice. It wasn’t intended, but it spilled out like a pool of steam over fresh hot chocolate. This room smelled too much like cinnamon, Emily decided.

“He is. And when he’s away he trusts in this organization, Project Skeptic, to deliver presents, grant wishes, and keep the Christmas spirit alive.” Emily swallowed roughly. Her mouth still tasted metallic and Chloe’s words hadn’t yet settled with her. “We’ve kept an eye on you, Emily. We know that all you want is to get that feeling back.”

December 2019

Emily pressed her stomach to the cold of the wooden floor, it’s edge soaking through her jumpsuit in a simple motion. It was the type of cold that she remembered as a child when her bed was given to her older cousin from Kansas and she drooled all over her pillow. She hadn’t even bothered to wash it before throwing it into the trash. Emily had slept on the hardwood flooring for two weeks.

Now she was struggling to hold her breath, letting it catch in her throat as she stared up at the windowpane above her. The sheer white curtains caught the light of a passing car, one that stalled- she could hear the crunch of tires against gravel and practically smell the gasoline that rested in the tank. She pressed her cheek close to the laminate and listened. It eventually pulled away, breath short as she was bathed in darkness once more.

Emily brought her frame back up to a standing position, careful not to let her form show in the large bay window; the house was normal, a large pre-lit Christmas tree that was filled with family ornaments made from Styrofoam cups, the angel on top that seemed to stare her down, and the plate of cookies that were stacked high enough to not only feed one reindeer but twelve.

She didn’t dwell too much on her surroundings. Sometimes it was different. The house wasn’t as decorated, or the tree was a live one. Very seldom was it just a barren wasteland with nothing more than cold granite countertops and a fire that was unlit.

Emily reached against her belt, pulling a simple laser pointer from its leather confines. She felt blindly for the little switch, the thing smooth under her fingertips. She pointed it at the ground, drawing a neat little line with its electric blue light. She could almost taste the charge in the air as she squatted down, reaching her grasp into the clutches of the glow.

This type of technology had scared Emily at first; a simple laser pointer that created a hole in the void to grasp Christmas presents that had already been pre-made. Now it was like second nature, a warmth engulfing her skin as she unshelled packages wrapped in paper with little candy canes and bushels of holly.

Emily learned not to question the size or weight, or the elegantly written Santa on the paper. Instead, she questioned other things: How many parents were in the house? Did the kids have a habit of staying awake? How full was the moon and how visible would it make her?

There was a subtle growl that cut through her little atmosphere like a butter knife through a grilled steak. It leaked grease and edged a deep feeling in the pit of Emily’s stomach. Were there any dogs?

She moved her hand over the line of electricity and plunged herself into innate darkness once more, slowly standing as her palms faced the floor. She could hear the rumble in the German shepherd’s chest, practically feel it close to the wooden floor. Its jowls dripped, hot saliva fell in thick strands.

Emily kept her eyes on the animal as it took a step forward. It was blacker than brown, and its eyes caught the green lights of the tree behind her. If it wasn't cheap plastic, the scent would be seeping into her clothing. The dog licked his gums, stepping closer.

Before she could protect her throat, the lights flashed on. They were almost worse than being mauled by a house pet. Her fingers moved against her stare to block out the stage glow, to blink away the afterlight that dominated her vision. There was an alarm too, a loud one that should signal fire but instead brought defeat.

“Emily!”

She let out a deep groan before anything else, slumping her shoulders and shaking her head. Even through the light, she could see everyone rushing around, could hear the door that stood next to the windowpane open and close- a simple little house rigged to produce nightmares.

“We have talked about this,” Chloe let the door fall behind her, “You need to check your compact before you get into the house that way you’ll know if-“

“There are any animals on the perimeter, I know.”

“If you know, then why didn’t’ you?”

Chloe didn’t’ wait for her to answer, instead, she clicked her tongue and had her follow from the faux room and into a standard hallway. Standard in the way that Emily could walk into any building on Wall Street and come in contact with the same generic paintings of beach scenes to make it feel a little less frigid in the winter. The red fire alarms stood out against tan colored walls. Chloe Beale looked ragged and tired.

“As much as I love you, Emily, you’re not going in on your own.” She finally said, breaking the silence. “Do you even have your compact?”

Did she? Emily felt against her waist and she did. It was easy to run her fingers along the extensive little device. It held everything she needed; the ages of the children in the house, what they wanted, if there was any unexpected company like a guard dog- even if it was simulated.

“Of course, I do, Chlo” Emily stopped in the middle of the empty corridor, pressing her fingers against the woman’s elbow. The Kevlar on her black jumpsuit was cool under her touch. “You know how I operate. We’ve been through this training a million times. I’m just… nervous, I guess. A lot is riding on this. Making and breaking Christmas.”

Chloe’s cerulean eyes softened at this. She looked tired. Her skin was pale under the neon lights and her jaw was clenched- nothing like it had been before, the stress of the holidays edging against her frame and making it stiff. “You’re telling me. This is my block- hell, it’s my city. But it’s no excuse to forget what you’ve learned.” She tapped the compact with her fingers. “What we’ve taught you. Right?”

Emily allowed herself to smile softly at Chloe. “Right,”

“Go get changed. We’re meeting 007 tonight for dinner.”

“Oh, Chloe I am not third-wheeling with you and your wife again.” Emily all but whined “She hogs all the noodles. Besides, don’t you two ever get tired of me tagging along?”

Chloe rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked intimidating in the small hallway. “First of all, Beca is the youngest of three, she’d bite your hand off for those noodles. And second of all, no we don’t get sick of you hanging around because you’re family now.”

“You don’t have to take pity on me,” Emily scoffed playfully “Just because my girlfriend is halfway across the country on business 90% of the time does not mean you have to suffer through me at the end of the couch during movie night.”

“We invited you, end of story. Go, get cleaned up.”

Emily saw no benefit in arguing with Chloe Beale. She was already high strung enough as it was, her back straight and eyes always trained on the little clipboard of hers. It sent a quick twinge of guilt through Emily, forgetting her compact like that didn’t help anyone- especially not the crew that set the whole elaborate thing up in the first place. Fake snow and a rabid hologram of German Shepards.

Everything that Emily would have chalked up to insanity seven months ago. Seven long months of working her day job, only to slip into a dingy warehouse on the east side of town. Scanning a badge, she hid among old candy wrappers and half-used Chapstick. No one would go searching in there.

The training had been embedded in her head, by Chloe herself, mostly. She sat in a classroom with unlimited servings of hot chocolate stirred with candy canes. Something she quickly grew tired of- cringing away from the sugary drink now. She had taken the defense courses and the Child Protocol lectures. But her anxiety continued to spike in rebellion, Christmas approaching fast.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, Chloe narrowing her eyes “You can carry your phone, but not your compact?”

Emily ignored the comment and stared at the screen. “Oh, Shit.”

“There a problem?” Chloe asked.

“Nothing major, my mother just informed me that we’re having Christmas at my house this year.”

Her voice was calm, but a flutter of anxiety licked at the back of her mind. That was one of the first things that they had taught her- no connections, plenty of excuses. Most of the people here didn’t’ have anyone depending on them for the holiday season. No obliged trips to church or brunches consisting of runny eggs.

For the past two years Aubrey had to work through Christmas and Emily would travel a few miles out of the city to be with her family for a few hours before she facetimed her girlfriend and they shared a long call littered with apologies, and Emily explaining that it was just a day.

“Oh,” Chloe sounded out evenly “You know what, no big deal. I’ve hidden this from Beca our whole marriage. Some would say it’s concerning how oblivious she is.”

Emily hummed in agreeance. Chloe was shockingly calm about the situation- about having to sneak out right after dinner on Christmas eve. About breaking into houses until the sun rose behind morning clouds.

Chloe must have sensed her worry, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “It’ll be fine Em. Now, go get changed. She’s probably taken out half the restaurant at this point.”

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Aubrey Posen #Emily junk #junksen #Bechloe #pitch perfect

16 notes · View notes

chiefnooniensingh · 5 years ago

Text

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 8

Chapter 8: You should give me a chance (this can’t be the end)

In this chapter: In the past, Alex and Michael grow closer, but danger lurks. In the present, Alex tries to talk to Michael after their devastating conversation. Things are slowly starting to come together.

A/n: So. This is gonna hurt. This chapter holds the absolute fucking worst scene ever written and it’s mostly not even mine. I’m sorry in advance.

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don’t know if I would’ve finished it without you guys!

So last week I kinda lied.I said I got my chapter titles from a playlist but I immediately changed up that pattern. I hope you guys still get it!

Last week was, of course “Can’t Love Me” by Novi and our very own Tyler Blackburn. @hmd23 guessed it again! They’re racking up quite a score!

Can anyone guess this week’s?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

December, 1924

“Where are you taking me, Michael?”

“Just keep your eyes closed. Trust me, I won’t walk you off a cliff.”

“Thanks, now I’m less worried,” Alex said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Alex.”

“Fine! I trust you.”

Michael pressed a quick kiss to Alex’ shoulder as he guided him forward. And indeed he guided well; every step they took was deliberate and Alex didn’t stumble once.

They’d been together for about six months now. The beginning had been a bit awkward. Neither of them quite understood what it was between them, but they’d soon stopped questioning it. For Alex’s part, he really, really liked Michael. He felt all the things men were supposed to feel for women, except he felt them for Michael. He hadn’t dared put any label on it, yet. They’d both been burned too many times, so they’d been taking it slow. They’d gone out a couple of times, under the guise of doing homework or coming from work at the foster’s ranch.

The sneaking around got exhausting sometimes, but this thing blooming between them was what dragged Alex through the long weeks of summer holidays. It was like Michael’s kisses gave Alex some resilience to his father’s nagging comments.

Speaking of kisses…Alex, still with his eyes closed, stopped moving, pulling Michael back towards him and clumsily pressing their lips together. Michael laughed as their lips fully missed each other at first but leaned into the kiss either way. “Alright, cowboy, calm down. Plenty of time for that later,” Michael said, his voice dropping down a notch and sending shivers down Alex’s spine.

“Oh,” he said stupidly. Michael started pulling him forwards again. Blindly, Alex groped for Michael’s head, stole the cowboy hat from his head and put

“Okay, love,” Michael said, the easy term of endearment slipping out as easily as his name would’ve, and Alex’s stomach took a short dive, “Open your eyes.”

Alex complied. His eyes adjusted for a second, and then he didn’t understand what he was seeing for another. “Is this…my mom’s shed?”

“It is.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. His mother’s art shed, usually locked up tight because his father hated the reminder that someone left him and got away with it, was flush with the light of about a dozen candles. The art supplies were all neatly stacked in a corner, and Michael had used the newly acquired floor space for a lot of blankets, pillows and a small picnic basket. “Michael, I…oh my God.”

“I know your dad is away for the weekend, and today is exactly six months to the day we first kissed so I wanted to…celebrate,” Michael said, his cheeks tinging red and his fingers fidgeting with Alex’s fingers nervously. Alex could only stare. “Is it…too much?”

Alex snapped out of it immediately, Michael’s insecurity pulling him back to reality. “God, no! Michael, it’s perfect!” He grabbed Michael by the neck and pulled him in for a kiss that turned passionate quite quickly. “Thank you,” Alex whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Michael began walking Alex backwards slowly, shedding his own coat first and then Alex’s, discarding them on the floor. They were forgotten immediately. Their lips met in a soft kiss. Alex wound his fingers in Michael’s hair, his favourite place to keep his hands while they were making out, and pushed his entire body against Michael’s, not content with even a tiny bit of space between them. With only slight pressure, Michael managed to bring Alex down on top of the blankets and pillows, straddling his hips as they continued to kiss frantically. Alex felt Michael’s growing erection against his thigh and broke the kiss to look at him.

“You wanna do this?” he asked softly.

Michael’s eyes darkened. “Only if you want to.”

Alex groaned as Michael’s hips twitched slightly, providing a friction that was so heavenly it should be illegal. “God, yes, Michael.”

“Really?”

Alex’s eyes opened in a flash, frowning at the genuine surprise on Michael’s face. “If you don’t come down here and kiss me, Guerin, I will start without you.” To prove his point, he drifted a hand down to his waistband, fingering the button of his slacks. Michael’s hands stopped him.

“Eager, are we?” Michael asked, leaning down and pressing light kisses to Alex’s face.

Alex bucked up his hips and they both groaned. “You have no idea.”

Michael caught Alex’s lips hungrily and they got lost in each other, shedding pieces of clothes as they went. Soon they were naked, and Alex became very aware of this. His breathing stuttered as Michael sat upright and Alex got a good look at the entirety of him for the first time.

And oh God, was he a specimen.

Alex’s breathing hitched as he ran his eyes from Michael’s face down to the hard planes of his chest and the slight rounding of his stomach. Michael had some scares, it was true, but it did nothing to take away from his beauty. Michael watched him drink him in with a slight smirk that Alex recognized as a mask to hide his fears. Alex reached out and ran his hands slowly, appreciatively over Michael’s chest, moving to his arms, and finally lacing their fingers together. Their eyes found each other again and they smiled, both slightly nervous. “Hi,” Alex breathed.

“Hi,” Michael returned, leaning down and pressing another kiss to his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Alex muttered.

Michael flushed. “Shut up.”

“‘And you’re beautiful, too, Alex’,” Alex said, poking Michael’s side, causing the latter to laugh, breaking some of the tension.

“Confident, are we?”

“Any reason I shouldn’t be?” Alex was teasing, they both knew it. They both had self-esteem issues to keep Freud busy for several years, but neither were in any mood to address them at this point. They were happy, for once, and too wrapped up into each other. It didn’t matter, for once. Nothing else mattered.

“Kiss me, Michael,” Alex said, after they’d stared at each other for a while, breaths falling in sync and their bodies humming from the proximity. Michael didn’t hesitate. He captured Alex’s lips in a kiss so ferocious it took Alex’s breath away completely. Michael rolled his hips, and Alex let out a moan quite unlike any sound he’d ever made before. He had no time to feel embarrassed, for it only spurred Michael on. Within a few minutes, both of them were panting and groaning, straining against the urge to completely lose it. Breaking the kiss, Michael raised his head just enough to be able to look into Alex’s eyes, and then his hand slowly ran from Alex’s chest down to where their bodies met. Without breaking eye contact, Michael wrapped his hand around Alex’s cock. Alex’s eyes widened and he gasped, one hand flying to grab hold of Michael’s neck. Michael kept his eyes on Alex’s face as he began to move his hand, slowly stroking, coaxing little noises from Alex’s throat, enjoying the way Alex responded to even his softest touch.

Alex, meanwhile, had lost all coherent thought. His entire focus had narrowed to Michael, the way his hand moved, the way those beautiful eyes stared at him, completely open and vulnerable, a positively hungry glint in them.

Somewhere in his abdomen, a pressure started to build. “M-Michael,” Alex whined, his hands looking frantically for purchase, which they eventually found in Michael’s hair. He pulled Michael down and captured his lips in a kiss. Michael’s movements never ceased, and within a minute, Alex was gasping, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent scream.

“That’s it, Alex,” Michael whispered softly, looking at Alex with nothing but pure adoration on his face. “Let go. I got you.”

Alex came unlike he’d ever experience before. His entire body flooded with heat, from the crown of his head to the tips of toes, and his muscles seized up for a moment and then slackened entirely. He was gasping for breath the next moment, his heart thundering in his chest. “Oh…oh my God,” he finally managed to croak out. His eyes snapped to Michael, who was resting his chin on Alex’s chest, staring at Alex’s face as if he was trying to memorize every small detail. “Oh my God, Michael.”

“That good, huh?”

“That was amazing,” Alex panted, lifting a heavy arm to brush Michael’s curls from his forehead. Then he pulled him up, capturing Michael’s lips in a searing kiss. “God, Michael…”

Michael hummed against Alex’s lips.

It took another few minutes for Alex to regain a bit of his strength, but when he finally did, he immediately noticed Michael’s…predicament. Sitting up suddenly and startling Michael, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him on his back. “My turn,” Alex said with a smirk, and Michael’s eyes fluttered closed as Alex began to press heated, open-mouthed kisses to Michael’s chest, working his way down to where Michael needed him most.

“A-Alex,” Michael groaned, sounding like it cost him something to speak. “You d-don’t ha-have to!” he blurted out.

Alex looked up, locking eyes with Michael to make sure the latter understood him clearly. “What if I want to?”

Michael groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Then, for the love of God, keep going.”

Alex smirked and set to work.

It was awkward in the beginning. Alex almost gave up entirely, after he nearly bit Michael’s most sensitive area twice, but Michael was patient and caring and coached Alex between gasps and moans until Alex finally found a rhythm that worked for both of them. And suddenly it was Michael gasping and choking out Alex’s name, and a heady feeling washed over Alex; a feeling of power and control. He was doing this to Michael. He was making Michael feel good and stammer out attempts at his name and it felt amazing to have that kind of control over someone, to have that kind of trust that Michael only rarely gave out to other people.

“Oh God, Alex, don’t stop!” Michael cried out, as if Alex was planning to. “Alex, I – I’m gonna – ”

Alex released Michael with a pop and replaced his mouth with his hand, working him over like Michael had done to him, and within thirty seconds, Michael came with a yell and a groan. Alex worked through the orgasm, slowing his movements until Michael’s breathing slowed down a little. Alex crawled up, feeling spent and sated as if he himself had just experience another orgasm. He dropped next to Michael on the blankets, using Michael’s chest as a pillow.

“Wow,” Michael said breathlessly.

“My sentiments exactly,” Alex whispered, running a single finger over Michael’s chest. Slowly, his heartrate was returning to normal, the adrenaline leaving his system, and suddenly he was shivering. Michael immediately reached out and pulled one of the blankets over them. They cuddled together, the warmth of the candles and their shared body heat washing over them, making them drowsy and sleepy. “What about the picnic?” Alex suddenly remembered.

“Later,” Michael murmured. They both fell asleep, blissfully unaware that later would be too late.

They were just getting dressed, intend on having that picnic after their much-needed nap. They were giggly, still a bit in a daze, happy even.

They should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Nothing good ever did.

Suddenly, the door to the shed flew open. Alex’s heart stopped. His father was standing in the doorway, an absolutely murderous look on his face. On instinct, Alex took half a step back, then moved in front of Michael.

As if he could protect him.

He was trembling like a leaf, already feeling the anger building in his father.

Jesse Manes was looking at the two of them, then entered the shed and closed the door. Fear coursed through his veins, but he remained still. Michael was behind him, and the last thing Alex wanted was for Michael to get hurt. “Dad,” he began, his heart in his throat as he saw his father making his way to the toolbox. Next thing, Jesse Manes held a hammer in his hand. No, oh god no. Alex panicked. His breathing became shallow and he brought his fingers to his lips. Behind him, Michael was frozen.

“How dare you?” Jesse Manes said quietly, menacingly. “Under my roof.”

“Dad, this has nothing to do with you!” Alex half-yelled, tears prickling in his eyes. In a flash, his father had him pinned by the throat against the wall. Michael let out a surprised yell, but Alex barely registered it. His breathing was being cut off and he was still very aware of the hammer in his father’s other hand.

“Everything you do!” his father yelled, “Everything! And I will not be humiliated…!”

From the corner of his eyes, Alex saw a flash of movement. “Don’t touch him!” Michael screamed, lunging forward.

Everything went very fast and yet terribly slowly. With a single, military trained movement, Jesse Manes grabbed Michael’s untrained fist as it came at his face. Alex fell to the ground gasping. He looked up. His father threw Michael towards the drawing table, grabbed the hand that had tried to hit him and brought the hammer down.

“NO!!” Alex screamed, his stomach coiling as he heard Michael scream in utter agony.

And then it was over.

His father was gone, Michael was clutching his ruined hand, and the dream they’d been living in for six months had shattered.

They’d never recover from that single, fateful night.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

Memories were a bitch, Alex decided.

After his terrible fight with Michael, he’d retreated to his cabin and had allowed himself exactly 10 minutes to give in, break down, feel every terrible, painful feeling he’d been suppressing for three days, and then forced himself to get back to work.

It’d been closer to 30 minutes, because every time he would force himself to calm down, the memories would come flooding back. The sound of a hammer finding its target; agonized screaming; the cruel twists of his father’s lips. It took him 30 minutes to finally get a grip on it.

Alex felt like he’d been run over by a truck.

And he had to go and find even more pain. Because Michael still didn’t have a solid alibi.

He found Michael in the dining carriage, sitting on a table, studying his left hand with a look of pain and grief on his face. Alex watched him flex the stiff fingers, winced when Michael did, and felt his heart ache. Michael got his hand maimed because of him. To protect him. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said.

Michael’s head snapped up. “Jesus Christ. What does a guy need to do to get you to take the fucking hint, Manes?”

Every syllable was dripping with anger and disgust and Alex felt each of them stab his heart. “I’m sorry for everything. All of it. Your hand. My father. This mess. Dragging you into my life. I’m so sorry. You deserved better.” His eyes were brimming with tears again and he closed them angrily to push them back.

When he looked back up, Michael’s face had softened a fraction. “What makes you think you dragged me into anything?”

Alex shook his head. “I knew what my father was. Knew he would never approve. Knew what he was capable of. And I put you in his orbit anyway. It’s my fault. All my fault.”

“Hey,” Michael said, jumping down form the table and moving towards Alex. His eyes were still cold and angry, but his voice was now carrying some warmth and softness in it. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I walked into it, eyes wide open. I knew what your father was from the day we met, remember? I didn’t care. You were worth it.”

Alex doesn’t fail to notice the obvious use of past tense, but it still makes him feel a little better. “Does it still hurt?”

Michael looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers again. “It seizes up sometimes.” He sighed. “I haven’t been able to play guitar since that night.”

Alex closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Michael sighed, “Yeah, I know.” The two of them stood in silence for a while, before Michael took a deep breath and sat back down on the table. “What did you come here for, Alex?”

“You know what,” Alex said, his voice flat. It was no use pretending. They both knew. The evidence was stacked against Michael. This was the second time Alex was coming to Michael, practically begging for a good explanation. They both knew there would not be a third time.

Michael hung his head. “Yeah, I know. You want to hear me say it. But I don’t know how to say it that’ll make you believe me.”

“Try,” Alex said, his tone pleading.

“I didn’t do,” he waved his hand at the general vicinity of his chest, indicating the way Noah Bracken had been murdered, “that. Alex, you have to believe me.”

“I want to so bad,” Alex whispered, shutting his eyes. Somehow, hearing Michael say it, didn’t help at all. “I want to believe that you didn’t do this so bad. Because I know you – or knew you, and you are – were – not a murderer. Yet something in my brain is telling me that something’s off and I can’t…I don’t know what it is!”

“I was placing a call to Jack at 3am,” Michael blurted out.

“Who the fuck is Jack?” Alex asked, too tired for niceties, too raw from sheer pain, too ready to hear the words ‘partner’ fall from Michael’s lips.

Michael snorted, as if he knew what Alex was thinking. “Jack’s the conductor of the that’s set to relieve me in Paris. He’ll be the lucky bastard making this entire trip the other way around. We’re supposed to check in at every stop, to let the other conductors know we’re on schedule.” He glanced at the windows, where the rocky walls of the Simplon pass were still shooting past. “I guess they know we’ll be a bit late.”

Despite himself, Alex let out a laugh. But it was hollow, and it faded away just as quickly. “I’m sure you’re telling the truth, Guerin, but…”

“But it’s not good enough. Because we can’t prove it until you can speak to Jack.” Michael nodded, as if he understood, but his mouth was set in a bitter line. “I get it, Alex. I’ll just…stay in my cabin until we get to Paris. Or something.”

Without saying anything further, he left the dining carriage. Alex heard the door to Michael’s cabin slam closed. “God fucking damnit,” Alex cursed, slamming his fist against the wall, which accomplished very little, except that he now had aching knuckles to boot. He stood, frozen, for a while, trying to set his mind right. It did not have any effect.

Suddenly, Alex shivered. A cold gust of wind blew past him, rustling his clothes and sending shivers down his spine. He turned, saw a window open and went to close it, still shivering. As he was about to pull it shut, he froze.

His mind finally seemed to unlock, the thing that had been nagging at him for two days finally burst to the surface. The window was closed when they went to bed. The train stopped in Vinkovci around 3. Body temperature suggest that’s when the murder happened as well. However, the window was open when we entered the cabin in the morning.

The window had been open.

Cold temperatures affects body temperature, Alex knew this from his many collaborations with coroners over the years. If a body was found in the snow, the amount of time it spent there was crucial to estimating the time of death. One hour of exposure could drop the body temperature as much as one degree, which can really screw up the time frame of a murder.

The time of death is off.

Alex suddenly remembered the scream he heard in the night. The person he saw moving into Miss Beth’s cabin.

Half past 5.

This not only changed the timeframe itself, but also the possible murderers. They’d been moving at half past 5. Unless the murderer had waited around for two hours before murdering Mr Bracken and then jumped off a moving train – they didn’t stop until well after 8 that morning – that meant the murderer was definitely still on this train.

If the murder actually happened at half past five…if the murderer opened a window to trick Kyle into miscalculating the time of death…

But Alex stopped, his thoughts screeching to a halt.

No one else could’ve possibly known what cold weather does to a dead body. Only Kyle Vale had the training and the knowledge.

Kyle Vale killed Noah Bracken.

Just as Alex reached that new, terrible (but admittedly, also liberating) conclusion, he heard Miss Beth shout in the hall outside. Apparently, her wound has reopened. Alex nearly dismissed it, but then she said the two words that made everything click into place:

“…can you come help me, dr Valenti?”

#malex #malex ff #rnm ff #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #a disaster bi and a chaotic gay #what could go wrong #otp:I Don't Look Away #my fanfics #my rnm ff #my malex ff #motoe au

13 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Champagne Problems [Frankie Morales x Reader]

Summary: Sitting on the night train, Frankie reminisces on the time he proposed to you, his high school sweetheart. You were so sure that this was all you ever wanted. But as it turned out, you had more on your plate than you initially bargained for, and things don’t go as well as Frankie could’ve hoped.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 1600>

Warnings: allusions to death, mention of substance abuse, addiction, relapse, allusions to depression, cigarettes mention, self induced injury, food mention, alcohol mention.

Author’s Note: BASED HEAVILY ON THE SONG ‘Champagne Problems’ by Taylor Swift. Please please give this song a listen either before or after you read this. It is so beautiful.

Masterlist

Frankie booked the night train for a reason. He couldn’t stay in town anymore, knowing that you were still there. He had no place to go, but that was the least of his concerns. Embarrassed and humiliated, all Frankie wanted was to sit and drown in all his hurt. As he paid for the ticket, he considered how the train might look. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers? He wasn’t sure which was worse. So long as he was without you, he was alone and without purpose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The living room was burning in amber candlelight, the faint smell of figgy pudding cooking in the distance was so distinct, and the crackling of the record player when the vinyl needed flipped was enough noise to give Frankie nightmares for the rest of his life. You and Frankie were the last ones dancing, your feet shuffling against his mom’s old carpet as you gazed longingly into his eyes.

When he got down on one knee and asked you to marry him, in front of his entire family, you wanted to say yes. So desperately, in your heart, you were certain that you wanted to marry Frankie Morales. And so, in that moment, you weren’t quite sure why the word “no” fell from your lips. Like every word you had ever spoken, the rejection was sweet like honey, and somehow, that only made the cut sting more.

Frankie’s face softened and he looked down at his feet as his cheeks burned pink with shame. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. How could you do this to him? Frankie made the mistake of scoping out the room, taking in the appearance of his family members who sat there with their jaws agape, watching the heartbreaking scene unravel before them like some kind of movie. You hadn’t meant to hurt him like this. You would never mean to hurt him. You loved him.

And so, Frankie shoved the small velvet box back into his jean pocket and didn’t speak another word. He continued to slow dance with you until the song ended. The melody was tainted now, and you tried your hardest to fight back your tears. Somehow, you knew, this would be your last dance with Frankie. You wish you could find the words to make things right. Would an apology be enough? For a brief moment, you and Frankie looked into each other's eyes and you still felt that familiar love… until, on impulse, you made the decision to drop his hands and run away. You left him standing there, crestfallen, in front of his entire family.

Sitting on the train, he gazed out the window. Pearly white snowflakes fluttered past him and they reminded him of your gentle nature and delicacy. Your picture burned a hole in his wallet, and his mom’s wedding ring weighed down his pocket. Frankie’s heart was like glass, fragile, and you had so carelessly dropped it.

Frankie had told his family on Christmas Eve when he thought you were tucked up in the warmth of his bed, fast asleep. The excitement was bubbling within him and he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. He had told them of his plan to marry you. But his delight was short-lived when he acknowledged the concern that crossed their faces. You were Frankie’s only ever love; his highschool sweetheart, but they knew you were a ticking time bomb. You were about as self-destructive as they came.

The Morales’ had known you long enough to recognise your history of mental illness; although they didn’t take the liberty to understand it. You hadn’t had the easiest of lives, but neither had Frankie. You had grown up with them. Whether they liked you or not, they were your family.

Between the pile of ash and the burned out cigarettes that cluttered every surface of his childhood bedroom, you felt yourself slipping into relapse. You weren’t sleeping like he thought you were. When the panic swelled into your lungs, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing, your sobs were hysterical, and you were smashing up the cheap beer bottles so the glass cut your fingers. You desperately searched for a quick and easy way out. For once, you just wanted to feel something.

Frankie was the love of your life. He deserved to know about your struggles. You knew that, deep down, he would want to know. He would want to help you. Frankie was so caring, holding your hand through every battle you ever fought. But he wasn’t without scars either. He’d finally recovered from his own problem with addiction, and you had promised him that you were getting better too. You didn’t need to drag him down when he was doing so well.

That’s the thing. You were so sure you were getting better. With Frankie having retired from the force, he was by your side every second of the day, and you had truly never been happier. But any person who suffers with mental illness will tell you that Christmas is the hardest time of the year. In fact, you were surprised to see him coping so well, not knowing that the thought of marrying you was the only thing getting him through the season.

You couldn’t enjoy yourself. The thought of eating all the delicious foods that Mrs Morales had prepared made you feel sick to your stomach, and it would be so easy to mess up and have one too many glasses of wine before you were spiralling again.

The night of the proposal, Frankie’s brother, Abel, had splashed out on the finest bottle of Don Périgon.

But nobody was celebrating.

Not even bothering to wrap up warm, you had left for good, into the darkness of the woods behind the Morales family home. The cold of the winter night stung every inch of your bare body, and the ice slipped through your shoes as you trenched through the thick white snow.

The memory replayed in your mind over and over again, tears free-falling down your face at this point. Your sobs echoed through the bare trees and as you crossed the frozen lake, you made no effort to be careful. This was your fate.

As Frankie sat on the train, contemplating his rejection, he couldn’t help but let out a deflated chuckle. He felt pathetic.

He had a whole speech planned out; about how he knew that you were the one for him the day he met you. It was sophomore year of high school and you and your friends were hanging out by his Chevy truck. Your cheeks were flushed with the colour of November and you were wearing a brown and blue flannel shirt that dropped down to your knees. It was identical to his.

By the time college rolled around, you had already been dating for a year, and had decided to move in together.

“This dorm was once a madhouse.” Frankie exclaimed incredulously, his dark eyes going comically wide as he read the pamphlet that had been presented to him by the university landlord.

You joked with a half smile and tugged on his arm. “Well it’s made for me.” With the jangle of the keys, you both entered your first ever home together — a shanty little apartment located in the corner of campus. Little did you know, those four walls were where you’d really begin to lose your mind. Nevertheless, those were his memories of you, and he wouldn’t change them for the world.

Frankie considered yours and his friendship group in college ‘evergreen’; a symbol of perfection, but now he didn’t think he’d ever say that word again. In a life without you, no such beauty could exist.

He had a speech, now he’s speechless. His love slipped beyond your reaches, and you couldn’t even give him a reason. His hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. It was a glamourised reference to your addiction.

As you walked over the lake, you didn’t even notice the way the ice slowly began to crack beneath your feet. Your thoughts were too loud as you tried your hardest to justify your actions. Maybe you just weren’t cut out for marriage. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

Not long after you had run off, Frankie broke down in front of his family. His parents and siblings surrounded him, shushing him and holding him tight. In a desperate attempt to comfort him, they put you down, making it out as if he deserved better.

Frankie didn’t know if he deserved better. All he knew was that he wanted you.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head,” they said. “but you’ll find the real thing instead.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the ice finally shattered, you were already completely numb. Blue lips and snowflakes balancing on your eyelashes — and yet all you could think about was your Frankie. You were sure that he’d move on eventually, he had to. He deserved happiness. If you could have it your way, you’d apologise for wasting his time all these years.

As your body sunk into the depths of the river, you could only hope that he’d eventually forget about your champagne problems.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier

121 notes · View notes