#CT GIFS

[sparetherescue]

[duftvonregen]

Please post a cameltoe picture in tights

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! - 6th Part (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hello, that was mean of me wasn't it, leaving you hanging off the cliff. Well here you go the next part. This story is so long, I am so sorry if you aren't a long story fan but I cannot stop myself. I love my OC she is me I am her, she is all of us. @brassknucklespeirs has been giving me some tasty little story lines so you know it's gonna be good. I'm so excited like the last chapter it's intense. I should make a playlist for Emily but I'm busy. I might do it later if people want it. As per usual this is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the real men in WW2.

Trigger warning: Talks of rape, violence, use of derogatory language.

I gasp for air, my eyes opening, I look up at the same scene I saw when Malarkey was carrying me through the forest, the green against the white.

“She’s breathing!” I look around worried faces come into my vision. “Em, Oh God!” someone says from behind me. Sighs of relief fill the air. 

“Emmy! Jesus, way to scare us all to death.” Lieb says to my left. I go to sit up. 

“Woah, steady there Darlin’.” Bull moves behind me resting my back on his front.

“Lieb?” I croak out, looking at the man confused at what everyone is so worried about. Gene sits on his haunches at my waist puffing. 

“Your heart stopped!” Gene pants. I take a deep breath finding that my chest aches, probably from the compressions he would’ve had to do. I look out of the foxhole to see Malarkey and Nixon both looking like they are about to pass out. Winters stands beside them watching me closely. 

“Sorry to scare you all.” I look at each of them. Lieb moves forward pulling me into his embrace, I hug him back. “Don’t do that again.” He says sternly in my ear. “Yes, Sir.” I whisper, earning a chuckle. 

“Let’s get you out of this hole.” Bull says, he easily pulls me to my feet. “How do you feel? Can you walk?” He asks. I nod moving slowly, it feels so good to move again. I am helped by the men to climb out of the foxhole. 

“Ok men back to the front, spread the good news.” The men grumble but head back to the front. Nixon stands close, putting his hand on the small of my back to ensure I am steady on my feet. 

“Let’s get you something to eat and drink. You’ll need a new top too. The buttons have been ripped off of the one you are wearing.” Winters says, I look down, finding my long sleeve shirt hanging open. I wrap the top around me. 

The next day we sit in the tent. I slowly sip tea that Winters made for me. A blanket hangs from my shoulders. Nixon sits across from me watching my every move like I will vanish if he takes his eye off me.

“Who did it Em?” Nixon questions leaning forward. I think back to the incident, the faces are blurred, the men themselves seem like they have been censored from my mind. I shake my head trying to get the picture to clear. 

“Nixon! Don’t ask her that! She will tell us when she’s ready.” Winters reprimands the intelligence officer. 

“I don’t remember. It’s all a blur. I remember finding something that scared me and then, I can’t, it’s blank.” I say disheartened. Nixon’s brows crease as he takes my hand resting on the table between us giving me a loving squeeze. 

“I’m sorry Em, I just. Ugh. I just want those men to be dealt with.” He’s angry, his jaw hard set as he looks behind me. Gunshots fire in the distance pulling my focus. 

“When can I go back?” I ask looking towards Winters. Both Winters and Nixon look at me like I have grown another head.

“Emily you just got better, you’re technically still recovering.” Winters makes his way over to me, laying his hand on my shoulder. 

“I can’t sit here and do nothing, I feel like I will go insane trying to replay whatever happened to me.” I plead my case to Winters. 

“But it was a big trauma Em.” His face softens, still trying to get me to rest. 

“I feel better, I swear I will take it easy. I will just help Gene.” I beg, giving my best puppy dog eyes to convince him. 

“Oh fine, fine!” He concedes throwing up his hands in surrender. 

“YES!” I stand shaking off the blanket, grabbing my gear. I scoot past Winters on my way past giving him a quick peek on the cheek. He chuckles and shakes his head as I make my way over to the front. 

I make my way to Gene, he looks weary and cold. “You good Gene?” I ask as I approach. 

“I should be asking you that aye Em?” He gives a small smile. “How well are you stocked?” He asks. 

“Not good, only a few bandages, no plasma and like one morphine. How about you?” I look through the stock in my bag. 

“About the same.” He says. “I was thinking we are going to have to scavenge a bit to get supplies, we are going to need it.” He is tired, he looks like he needs a good sleep.

“I will do whatever you need Gene, just tell me what you want me to do.” I say giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

I follow him as we try to find the other medic Doc Ryan so that we can trade items and stock take our supplies. 

“Spina.” Gene calls to the medic digging a hole in the frozen ground. 

“Doc.” Spina acknowledges the man. 

“What’s happening?” Gene asks. 

“We’re digging in, right along the line.” Spina says while shovelling. 

“So what did you get?” Spina asks Gene, throwing the shovel over his shoulder. 

“I got uh. I got this and I got myself a Kraut bandage.” Gene hands him things, as they both take a seat in the half dug foxhole. I make my way over sitting on the edge of the hole. 

“What? This is it?” Spina says when Gene doesn’t hand him anything else. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Gene sounds defeated, god I didn’t know we were so low on everything. 

“What about you?” Spina turns his attention to me. 

“Same for me.” I say rummaging through my medic bag. I watch Gene pull his last Morphine syrette, I only have one on my person as well. 

“You know, First Battalion has pulled out of Foy. Heavy casualties.” Gene says to Spina. 

“They left?” I ask, having missed the update. 

“So, if they’re pulling back then what the hell are we doing sitting here?” Spina asks, Gene is focused on the morphine in his hand. 

“We need more morphine. This is all I got.” He put the morphine back into its box tucking it away in his bag.     

“You got extra scissors?” Gene asks the both of us. I shake my head. 

“Uh-uh just the one.” Spina says drinking from his canteen. 

“First Sergeant Lipton.” I hear being called out through the woods. A man appears at the foxhole. “What’s this? Three medics in one hole?” He asks, dramatically putting his hand on his hip, I choke back a laugh. Who is this guy?

“Yes Sir!” Spina replies. 

“And what’s going to happen to us if you take a hit? Huh?” The man stands with his hand tucked onto his hip trying to be assertive, but Spina seems to take the man for a joke.

Lip marches up behind the man, “Sir?” he asks. 

“First Sergeant, where is my foxhole?” The man demands. My mouth falls open at the rude way he speaks to Lip. 

Lip looks incredulously at the man, “this way Sir.” He motions his hand back in the direction the man appeared from. None of the other medics seem to be paying attention to this interaction, I watch intently. 

“Maybe you missed it, huh?” Lip says to the man. “I’ll walk you back Sir. You’re a bit close to the line here.” Lip seems to be annoyed at the man.     

“Goddammit.” The man mutters, marching away. 

“Who is that man?” I ask the boys sitting in front of me. 

“That’s First Lieutenant Dike, the men are calling him foxhole Norman though.” Spina says in a hushed voice. 

“Why?” I question. 

“He goes missing whenever there is action, says he is going for a walk but who knows where he goes.” Spina says. I let my mouth fall open. 

“And he’s the First Lieutenant?” I ask surprised, Spina nods. I raise my eyebrows making a judgemental face. 

“Alright here's the plan Em,” Gene says to me as we leave Spina, “you go down to Dog company, see what you can scrounge from the men and I will go to Fox.” Gene instructs pointing behind me. “Keep low Em, meet me back at Easy when you are done.” He turns and walks away from me. I follow his instructions, keeping back from the line as I make my way over to where Dog company is stationed, not far over from Easy. 

I make my way over to one of the foxholes back from the line, dropping inside next to another man.

“First Sergeant?” I ask the man huddling in the foxhole. 

“Yeah, who’s asking?” The Sergeant replied. 

“Lane, I’m one of the medics from Easy Sir.” I introduce myself to the man. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He seemed surprised. 

“Excuse me?” I ask, shocked by his comment. 

“Ah, nothing. What do you want, Lane?” The man dismisses his previous question. 

“I came to see if you have any extra medical supplies?” I tell the man. 

“You might have to go ask the men for their own supplies, we are running low as well.” He sighs, focusing his eyes back onto the line. I go to climb out of the hole when his hand grabs my forearm. “We actually have a couple casualties, can you tend to them, I have no idea where our medic is.” His stare pins me to the ground, not giving any room to protest. I give a sharp nod. “That one over there has someone in it.” He points to a foxhole a couple of metres away. 

I leave the hole, keeping low, I drop into the foxhole that the Sergeant pointed out to me. A man lies in the bottom, I almost land on him as I enter. The other man keeps eyes on the line. I see blood soaking into the green of his jacket on his shoulder. 

“Hey!” I say tapping the man, he flinches at my touch. He turns over to look at me, “What happened?” I ask the man, who vacantly stares past me. I shake him again trying to get his attention but his stare remains distant. 

“Hey, what’s this guy's name? Do you know what happened?” I ask the other soldier crouched next to me. He slowly swivels to face me, as our eyes lock, terror washes over my features. I feel my heart stop as a cold sweat pricks at my skin. I go to stand trying to escape him but I don’t move fast enough. The man who pinned me down in the woods grabs my mouth preventing me from making any noise, slamming my head back into the side of the foxhole. My helmet only takes so much of the brunt, black spots dance over my vision.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” The man says in disbelief, coming into my face to whisper so that no one can hear what is going on. I struggle beneath his hold. “I should’ve killed you when I got the chance.” My body stills at the words, “but I don’t have a thing for fucking dead bodies.” A fire ignites in my chest, my blood coursing through my body filled with hate. I open my mouth biting down hard at the soft flesh between his thumb and index finger, I bite hard enough to draw blood. The man yelps in pain, snatching his hand back but he moves quickly striking his palm to my cheek. I tuck my knees to my chest using the wall behind me to send him flying back crashing into the other wall. I clamber out of the foxhole, but still he is quick. Grabbing my ankles he yanks me back into the hole, not before a scream rips from my throat echoing through the trees. I am soon back on the floor of the foxhole and the man clamps a hand around my mouth and his other around my throat. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he hisses in my face repeatedly, thumping my body into the ground as his hand squeezes my neck, cutting off my blood and oxygen supply. My head spins from the loss of air. I claw at his face with my nails drawing blood from his cheeks. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I hear from above us, the man quickly releases me from his grasp. I crawl away from him sucking in gulps of air into my burning lungs. I haul myself out of the hole lying in the snow. Other men have gathered around to see what the commotion was. I hear the sound of feet crunching in the snow, the men from Easy arrive, I watch their eyes survey the scene, Lieb and Malarkey leading with Bull, Toye and Bill not far behind. Malarkey’s eyes find me first widening at the sight of me sprawled out on the snow.

“Should I repeat myself, Private?” The man who found us first speaks, I recognise him. Speirs, the man who everyone is afraid of due to the rumours; there is one about him giving out smokes to a bunch of POWs before shooting them all. 

The soldier has climbed out of the hole sitting on his knees in front of Speirs. I roll over, slowly getting to my feet, swaying, I shake my head steadying myself. 

“She attacked me first.” He accuses. I snort, spitting the blood from my mouth onto the snow. “She bit me!” he holds out his hand for Speirs to see.

“And tell me how, Private, that your hand got so close to her mouth that she bit it.” Speirs tilts his head as he stares down the man with his deadly glare. There is movement from behind Speirs. I flick my gaze over watching Bull hold back a raging Lieb, the other men watch with looks that could kill. 

“Yeah, tell them Private.” I taunt the man, “tell them how you couldn’t get it up.” I wipe the blood running down my cheek, giving the man a sadistic grin. 

“Tell them how you brought two other men to hold me down while you tried to rape me. What? Were you worried that you weren’t strong enough to do it by yourself?” My brows quirks as I ask the question, arms folded in front of me. I walk up to the man getting close to his face. “Should I tell everyone that you’re a coward with a tiny cock?” The man seethes, he growls in anger flinging himself forward taking me down to the ground. I laugh in his face. “God you’re so easy to wind up.” He is quickly dragged up from on top of me. I am helped to my feet by Malarkey, the rest of the men looking like they are chomping at the bit to fight. 

“Take that man to the Captain, tell them what he did. Find the other men who attacked Lane the other day and bring them in too.” Speirs commands two soldiers to drag the man away.

“Go back to your spots men, the show is over.” Speirs announces, as the men watching slowly dissipate back into the burrows. The Easy company men are by my side in seconds. Malarkey stands close, he cups my face, his eyes frantically scanning my head looking for any injuries. 

“I’m fine Malark.” I try to say but he has squished my face so it makes it harder to talk. 

“Fucking Dog company.” Lieb seethes next to me. Bull watches me concerned. Toye and Bill are on guard, glaring down any man that walks too close to the group.      

“Easy company come with me.” Commands Speirs. He marches back towards where we are camped. We follow him back, Malarkey and Lieb glued to me. Lieb looks ready for a fight. I watch his hands clench and unclench. His jaw tight, his eyes dart around. Malarkey is the same, I have never seen him angry before, I have always known him as kind and sweet but this man escorting me back to the camp is vengeful, his face is hard and stoic but his eyes are a blazing fire. 

“At least we found him.” I try to make light of the situation but the men don’t reply seemingly in their own world, I’m sure they are planning various ways to make the soldier pay for his crimes. The men in front of us are no different, their silence is deafening. We arrive, Winters and Nixon look pissed. They dismiss the other men only leaving me with the Captains and Speirs. 

We sit in the tent around the table, I look at the floor fiddling with the button on my jacket. I feel like I have been brought into the principal's office to be scolded.

“What happened?” Winters asks Speirs who sits next to me. 

“Well Sir I’m sure we all heard the scream that alerted us to the situation in the first place.” Starts Speirs leaning his arms on the table. 

“It took me a while to find where the noise actually came from, since she was, I am assuming, dragged back into the foxhole by the soldier.” He looks to me for confirmation, to which I nod. 

“When I finally found where the sound came from I looked into the hole to find the man strangling Lane here, he was also covering her mouth and whispering to her, but I didn’t hear what was said.” Speirs says. I feel their eyes land on me. 

“He was telling me to shut up.” I say looking up to meet Winters eyes, regretting my decision, the look on his face breaking my heart. I avert my gaze back to the ground. 

“Did he say anything else?” Nixon asks.  

“He said that he should’ve killed me when he had the chance, but that he…” I pause, clearing my throat. I take a breath, I don’t want to have to tell Nixon and Winters what the asshole said to me. It was bad enough to hear from him but I keep going. “He said that he didn’t have a thing for fucking dead bodies.” I bite my lip looking up at the men, disgust evident on their faces. 

“Thank you Lane, we will have this sorted.” Winters says dismissing me. He can’t even look at me, none of them can. I bite my inner lip. Standing I leave the tent letting them figure out what they want to do with the man. 

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

Chapter 7

[nerdyperday]

Day 2804 Lucca

[welivefast-dieyoung]

Happy Birthday to my A1 from day 1. My goofy Aquarius bestie. Might be the best of all my boys. Idgaf I love you with all my heart, I can't help it, you might be my favourite. Talented as fuck, one of the most expressive faces on the planet. Your smile is insane. Always just happy to be there, you literally look better every time I see you. Your tongue is allergic to staying in your mouth. You always wanna say something or sing something. Strongest face card of all my clients. Kinda guy who drives 30 minutes for a hug. Genuinely couldn't ask for more out of a fave. If you being virtually incapable of not manspreading is all I have to put up with I'll take it. Never change.

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Card Tricks | Chapter Two: Home

Stars Series | Card Tricks

“Christmas isn’t for another week, do we really have to go home this early?”

From the other room, George Weasley heard his brother laugh. “Yeah, see how that goes over with Mum,” Fred jested, walking out into the living room of their flat. George was sitting at the desk by the window, several notebooks filled with numbers taking up the space, not to mention about two dozen crumpled papers scattered around him. As he approached him, Fred picked up one of the crumpled pages, opening it as he leaned against the desk next to his brother. George had been trying to work out their finances.

“Can’t we just get there when Ron and Ginny get back? It’s only a couple days difference.”

Fred crumpled the sheet once again and threw it at his brother. George, who had been keenly focused on the numbers in front of him, rolled his eyes as he looked up at Fred. “We’re going,” Fred insisted. “We need the vacation, you especially.” As he said this, Fred pushed the notebook George had been scribbling on away from him.

“What we need is an accountant,” George sighed, sitting back in his chair. He ran his hands over his tired face. “Don’t you miss when we were just inventing?”

Fred smiled grimly and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll get back to it, Georgie. Just you wait, soon enough we’ll have much more than just Verity working for us. We’ll have a whole staff of accountants, and we can just do the fun bits.”

George sighed again, but smiled lazily at his twin.

“Now don’t make me nag you about packing,” Fred said as he pushed himself from the desk. “Mum expects us for lunch.”

With a smirk, George flicked his wand in the direction of his room, and his suitcase came flying out immediately. Fred nearly had to drop to the floor to avoid its path, and in the silent moments that followed, George had to keep himself from laughing as Fred slowly stood back up. As he put his hands on his hips, George nearly lost it as he thought about how much Fred looked like their mother at the moment. “Well,” was all Fred had to say before the two of them broke out into a fit of laughter.

-

“Fred, George! Oh, thank goodness you’re home!”

George looked over to Fred in astonishment as their mother happily bounded out of the Burrow to meet them only seconds after they had apparated into the yard. Fred, with a look that mirrored his twin, shrugged. The both of them had to crouch a bit as their mother wrapped her arms around them.

“Didn’t know you missed us this much, Mum,” Fred commented with a laugh.

As Molly pulled away from her boys, her eyebrows were knitted together. “Of course I missed you!” she claimed, but at the way she didn’t fully meet their eyes, both of the twins knew there was more to the story. Nonetheless, they didn’t protest as she swiped her wand at their cases and they disappeared from their hands, no doubt to their room. “Now,” their mother continued, leading them inside. “Your father’s still at work, so he won’t be joining us, but Bill should be back any minute now and we’ll have a proper lunch.”

“Where’s Bill?” asked George.

“Yeah,” added Fred, “I thought his holiday started on Monday. Shouldn’t he be home?”

“Is he doing something for the Order?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Molly with a slight nervous chuckle in her voice. As they got closer to the house, she seemed to be slowing down. “He took the Kumar kids Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley this morning. Should be back any minute, though.”

As Molly hesitantly climbed the steps up to the door, George was beginning to catch on. “Just the Kumar kids?”

Reaching the door, their mother turned and gave them a confirming look. As she opened the door, the twins looked at each other, understanding. Their mother had been left home alone with Fleur.

As they stepped into the kitchen, Fred and George were hit with a deliciously sweet smell of something baking, though as they caught a hint of orange, they knew it was something their mother had never made before. “What’re you making, Mum? It smells - ”

But George elbowed Fred before he could finish, catching sight of Fleur, with her silvery blonde hair tied in an elegant knot on top of her head, walking into the kitchen, an apron over her robes. Molly eyed Fred pointedly, as if daring him to finish his sentence. He stayed silent, going bright red.

“Allo!” Fleur greeted, her French accent thick as ever. She also seemed happier to greet them than she had in the past, and George figured that she, like their mother, was happy to no longer be alone with her future in-law. “They smell delicious, don’t they?” she said to Fred pompously. Molly quietly huffed and left the room. “Madeleines,” Fleur continued, “it’s a Delacour tradition to make them before Noël.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great,” said Fred awkwardly, and satisfied, Fleur turned back to the oven. George was trying not to laugh as he shoved his twin out of the kitchen. 

Molly had taken to getting lunch ready in the living room instead of the kitchen, and she ignored them, Fred in particular, as they came in to join her. Fred slowly walked over to her like a kicked puppy while George flung himself on the sofa, watching amusedly. 

“Sorry, Mum,” Fred said to her quietly. “If I’d’ve known - ”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped, cutting him off. As she finished the last sandwich, she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, physically shaking off the incident. “So,” she said, much more brightly, walking over to join George on the sofa, Fred quickly following, “how’s the shop going?”

“Fantastic,” George said proudly. “It’s going really well. Don’t think we’ve had a slow day yet.”

Molly gave them a proud smile, something they rarely saw directed at them. “You know, out of everyone, I think you boys surprised me the most. Entrepreneurs,” she said with a slight I-can’t-believe-it shake of her head. “Successful entrepreneurs at only eighteen. I never would have thought. And to think, I was shaming you over how few OWLs you got.”

“Yeah, we’re doing pretty well for a couple of drop outs,” Fred commented, but as with everything he seemed to say today, he was met with a sharp look from his mother. With an awkward grimace, he leaned over to his brother. “Guess that’s still a bit of a sore subject.”

“You think?” George chuckled, and as he did, Molly’s stern expression broke a bit, to their surprise. 

But before she could say anything more, the low-burning fire in the fireplace burst green flames, and little Regulus Kumar stumbled out of it, holding several bags, and covered in soot. When he saw them sitting on the couch, his eyes widened. “Hurry!” he said, and all three of the Weasleys felt their hearts jump in terror. “Go to the kitchen! Neela and Bill have some gifts that aren’t very well concealed.” There was a collective breath of relief at this, but Regulus was still determined to get them moving. “Quick! They’ll be along any second now!”

Obliging the young boy, Molly, Fred and George stumbled back into the kitchen. Fleur was startled so badly by the sudden arrival of them that she dropped the hot pan full of fresh-out-of-the-oven Madeleines. As the French woman started loudly cursing in her native language, George caught sight of the small grin on Molly’s face. He’d never felt closer to his mother than he did in that moment. 

Only a second or so later, Bill hurried into the kitchen to comfort his fiancée. A quick wave of his wand saved the Madeleines, but Fleur was much more difficult to calm. Neela crept in behind Bill to see what was going on.

Molly gave her a questioning look, and with a thumbs up, they knew they were good to go back into the living room, and they quickly did, desperately trying to get out of Fleur’s warpath. 

“What happened in there?” Regulus asked, coming back down the stairs. 

“Some Madeleines were nearly lost and their creator was not happy about it,” said George. Neela began to laugh at his phrasing, and though it took Regulus a second to fully understand what he had said, he joined in his sister’s laughter. Even Molly chuckled a bit.

After the laughter died down and the twins gave the Kumar siblings a proper greeting, they all sat down around the living room and grabbed a sandwich. Once Fleur was calm enough, she and Bill joined them, and the tension in the house seemed to cease for a moment or two.

“How was Diagon Alley?” Molly asked Bill, Neela, and Regulus.

“We didn’t spend too much time there, actually,” said Bill through a mouthful of ham sandwich. At the confused faces that met him, he swallowed and continued. “Not many of the shops were open, so we spent most our time in Muggle London.”

“Oh,” said Molly. There was a hint of sadness in her voice, but she tried her best to hide it. “And how was that?”

Neela beamed as she answered. “It was incredible. So many people were out, and there were so many decorations - it just felt so Christmasy! We walked around some of those Christmas markets - ”

“ - and Bill took us ice skating!” Regulus excitedly cut in. “It was amazing! We’ve never done it before!”

George leaned over to his eldest brother. “I think you may have just beaten us out for their favorite Weasley,” he joked.

Molly still seemed to be worried as she looked between Bill and the twins. “Is Diagon Alley really doing that badly?”

Fred grimaced. “It’s not looking too good, Mum. Gotten even worse since summer. Half of the shops have gone under, and the other half are just barely holding on.”

“Scared me half to death when I saw the lights off at your shop,” Bill said to the twins. “Forgot you were coming here today.”

George grinned, and seeing the slightly frightened looks on the Kumars’ faces, tried to lighten the mood. “Nah, they can’t get rid of us that easily,” he said in a brighter tone. He leaned over and ruffled Regulus’s hair. “So tell us more about Muggle London!”

Smiles quickly lit the kids’ faces, and they began to prattle on and on about their experience in Muggle London, Bill adding in, and Fleur commenting every now and then. By the time all the sandwiches were eaten, Neela and Regulus looked about ready to fall asleep.

“Were you all able to get more gift wrap?” Molly asked as the conversation died down a bit. 

Bill, Neela, and Regulus’s eyes all widened, looking around at each other. Molly’s famous motherly scowl was beginning to emerge, and it was clear that that was the one thing she’d asked them to pick up.

“Er - ” started Bill, but Fred rescued him.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “George and I can go into town and pick some up.” 

Everyone looked thankful, but George most of all. He didn’t want to be there when the Kumars took a nap and Fleur and Molly were forced to interact again. 

With a grateful smile, Molly reached over and patted Fred’s hand. “I’m so happy to have you boys back home.”

-

“You know, at first, I thought she was just happy to see us because she wouldn’t have to be alone with Fleur anymore,” Fred was saying. In the bright afternoon, the twins thought it’d be best to walk into town. Heavy snow wasn’t supposed to hit for at least a couple more days, so the countryside was peaceful - a frosty, picturesque landscape. With the hustle and bustle of London, George had forgotten how much he loved it out here. “But I think she genuinely missed us.”

George smiled. “I missed her, too. I can’t tell you how excited I am for dinner. Cooking for yourself everyday has got to be one of the worst things about living on your own.”

“I don’t know,” chuckled Fred, “having to do your own laundry gives cooking a run for its money.”

George nodded in agreement as they came into the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. “While we’re in town, I think we should pick up something nice for Mum for Christmas. You know, show her how much we appreciate her.”

“You’re on your own there,” Fred scoffed. “I’ve already got Mum a present.”

George stopped in his tracks, looking at his twin with a dramatically hurt expression, right hand to his chest. “You got her something without me?” he exasperated. “You treacherous little - we always get her something together!”

“Not this year,” Fred smirked. “We’re businessmen now, Georgie. What better way to show Mum that we’ve made it than to splurge on her a little? And good luck topping what I’ve gotten her.”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” He caught up again with his twin, his hurt expression replaced with a competitive gleam in his eye. They turned onto the main street of the town, a street lined with local shops and businesses, the towering steeple of the church at the very end of it. It was known to be very lively, especially at this time of year, but as it was still the early afternoon on a Wednesday, the street was fairly empty. “What’d you get her?”

Fred chuckled evilly. “Like I’d tell you that.”

“Oh, shove off,” George joked, bumping his shoulder against Fred’s. “First you don’t tell me we’re getting separate gifts, and then - ” 

He stopped mid-sentence, because as he looked up, his eyes had found probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, walking just on the other side of the road. Her soft brown, wavy hair blew away from her face with the gentle winter breeze and the quickness of her stride, and even from a distance, George could see the pink flush on her oval face from the cold, and he was already awe-struck by her warm brown eyes. As his words fell flat, he had stopped walking again, caught in an utter trace by her. She didn’t seem to notice him at all.

Fred stopped as well, confused by his brother’s actions until he followed his gaze. When he saw her, his grin grew, and he looked back at George smugly. While they both had attracted a fair amount of female attention while at Hogwarts, Fred had always been the one that would act on it, and while George would flirt occasionally, he had always been pretty indifferent when it came to the girls at Hogwarts. Fred had definitely never seen him like this before, and it was something he very much enjoyed seeing. 

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” said Fred as they watched the girl walk into a store. George looked over at Fred, flushing red and trying to ignore his brother’s smirk. “She’s going into the paper shop.”

[humaningenuity]

Natanael Cano's Profile

By Damian Reyes Blanco, Natalover

Nathanahel Ruben Cano Monge better known as Natanael Cano is a singer-songwriter of corridos tumbados from Mexico.

Biography

He was born in Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico, on March 27, 2001. At the age of nine, he began playing the guitar for his family, inspired by his favorite singer, Ariel Camacho he has said in an interview that he learned to play guitar from tutorials from youtube. Then it was in ten grade that he left the school to make a musical career.

After he left his school and also his home, he started living in Tijuana, Baja California and in 2018 when he has nineteen years old he signed with Five Music label with which recorded his first five song, being "El de los lentes gucci" the song that stood out, thus beginning the genre of “corridos tumbados”, then the next year in 2019 he signed with La R Records to publish his first album titled “Todo es diferente” giving him the fame he was looking for as a teenager, achieving big hits on his album, such as “Soy el diablo” or “ El de la codeina”. Months later signed with Rancho Humilde label, which was with this label that he could go on with his career as musician, because they give him his first paycheck and a home in Los Angeles, and it was in that house that he meet another singer called “Junior H” and they become a very good friends recording many songs together.

Music Hits

His songs began to occupy the first tops in the Hot Latin Songs. Natanael Cano has collaborated with many artist such a Alejandro Fernandez, Steve Aoki, Bad Bunny, Los Tigres del Norte and many others, thus making new types of music like this, influencing more in the regional music industry.Nowadays he has win a lot of awards such a Latin Billboards, Latin American Music Awards and MTV EMAS”s, making it world famous, at the moment he is the #285 artists listened in the world on Spotify and in 2023 he released “PRC” with Peso Pluma and “AMG” with Gabito Ballesteros and “Peso Pluma” that put him on the top of any music list.

Recently

Today he has 22 years old, has released 11 albums, being the most recent the album titled “Nata Montana” that how he said “ this album is a door that i open long time ago and with this it close” also he has his own label called “CT”, has acted in a  HBO TV show called “UGLY” and also with Prime Video that is a documentary, is known for creating the “corridos tumbados” genre and he has said that he is “proudly Mexican”

As we have seen, Natanael Cano is an influential singer for music that keeps the mexican culture on the top.

Sources:

-> Colaboradores de los proyectos Wikimedia. (2021, 19 de enero). Natanael Cano. Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre. https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natanael_Cano

-> Téllez, A. (2023, 27 de abril). Todo sobre Natanael Cano, el pionero de los corridos tumbados. GQ. https://www.gq.com.mx/articulo/natanael-cano-quien-es-biografia-del-cantante-de-corridos-tumbados

[sparetherescue]

Wednesday

[snowlikeash]

[deweydell25]

(via GIPHY)

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

Having a decent conversation and discussion about a specific subject, usually with two different viewpoints: The other person all of a sudden: Well, clearly you haven't watched enough ____ to know what you're talking about. What is with it with these fake fans???

My need to overthink/over analyze everything:

[welivefast-dieyoung]

I'm sooo late but Happy Birthday to my A1 from Day 1. I was stanning you before I even knew what it was and I'll continue until the end

[bluemoon-fever]

The First Time

pairing: ari levinson x fem!reader

summary: it's your first time with ari.

word count: 1.87k

prompt: ari levinson + "Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve."

warnings: fluff, light angst(?), allusions to anxiety/low self-esteem, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation kink, D/s undertones, soft!dom!ari, size kink, aftercare, pet names, creampie, choking, MINORS DNI

a/n: this is my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 for their Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza. this is my first work in a minute (i have WIPs, but i'm still trying to figure out how i want things to go). i'm exciting to see what everyone thinks and i hope you enjoy! (also this isn't edited and don't steal or repost this)

You feel utterly ridiculous. You’ve washed your hands for what felt like ten minutes, trying to hide the clamminess of your hands. After your fifteenth cleanse, you dry your hands and resign to the fact that your nervousness would not subside until you got this over it. Ugh, fine, you muttered under your breath as you succumb to your nerves.

Before you go out, you give yourself a once-over in the mirror. You had your hair perfectly curled for your date tonight. The cute blouse and jeans that fit your hips and ass perfectly was in the hamper. You wore a short, pink silk nightie with matching lacy panties. You recently bought them for tonight and hoped they would work in your favor. You looked beautiful, but why did that not calm your nerves? Why was it not enough?

You felt bad for leaving Ari waiting, and he was so understanding. When you told him you needed to freshen up a bit, he softly kissed your forehead and lips before telling you to do whatever you need to do. It helped quell your anxieties a little, but as you got closer to the impending moment, your anxiety heightened.

You whispered to yourself in the mirror.

You got this! It’s just sex. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t be in the end of the world. You tried to rationalize despite every cell in your brain feeding into irrationality and fear. You hadn’t been this nervous to have sex since your first time, so for you to be an adult and panicking over doing it with your new boyfriend felt extra silly.

It had been a while since your last encounter… a long while. After the end of your only serious relationship, it had been hard to let anyone new in until Ari Levinson waltzed into your life. Even though he was patient, he was persistent. You wanted him, and he wanted you. But you were so scared of being hurt and alone again. 

He worked to prove to you that he wouldn’t do that. He showed you that he wanted you, wanted to cherish and take care of you. Pretty soon, you were falling for him and he claimed himself for you. He was waiting for you to do the same, and for Ari, he would wait however long he needed. You were worth it to him.

And so you let Ari Levinson into your life, and you’ve been the happiest you’ve ever been. For the duration of your time together, you and Ari had only made out and cuddled. He spent the night at your place and you at his, but there was no sex. He never pressured you, which you were grateful for, but you were scared to begin. You weren’t the most experienced. The sex you had with your ex was decent, but you didn’t want that. You had desires, some you were scared of sharing with Ari, but you knew you could trust him. He wouldn’t judge you for that, but you were worried. What if you weren’t good enough? What if it was so bad he left you?

Ari didn’t seem like the type to leave you because the sex sucked, but looking at him, you couldn’t help but feel out of his league. He was sex on legs, undeniably handsome. You’ve seen the way women and men alike look at him, hell you look at him the same way. Could you even keep up?

Before you could go further in your spiral, a soft knock brought you back to reality. “Babe, is everything alright in there?”

“Yeah! I’m about to come out!” Holy shit. It was now or never. You fluffed up your hair, quickly gargled some mouthwash, and gave yourself a last minute pep talk. You are a goddess. You got this! If you can survive half the things you have, you can have sex with your boyfriend.

You walked out of bathroom, but instead of inching towards Ari, you leaned against the doorframe, trying to look like the gorgeous actresses from the movies. Ari was laying across your bed, still fully dressed. He licked his lips as he eyed your form, looking like a predator about to devour his prey. Your body warmed under his gaze and a wetness begin to pool in your panties. 

“You like?” you ask in a sultry tone. Ari nodded and rose up. He towered over you, and though you hadn’t said it, you loved that his body was bigger than his. His arms traveled up your body before he grabbed your head in his hands and pulled your mouth into his. Immediately, he began to dominate you with his mouth. Your tongue attempted to fight for dominance, but Ari easily overpowered you. You could feel him guide you away from the bed and towards the mirror hanging above your dresser. Before you know it, he abruptly pulls away from you and spins you around to where your back is pressed firmly against his chest and growing bulge.

In the mirror, you see how swollen your lips are. Your face was red with passion and so was Ari’s. He wrapped his arms around your center and began caressing your body. “Honey,” he begins. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Nothing,” you stutter, failing to hide your true feelings. Despite experiencing the most amazing kiss of your life, your mind was still running a mile a minute. Ari shakes his head, and you immediately tense. “I’m sorry!”

“Baby, your mind has been running a mile a minute since we got back to your place. There’s no need to apologize, but just tell me what’s going on,” he says as he begins to pepper kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. Your eyes roll back slightly as he begins his light assault, but when you’re quiet longer than he cares for, he stops. You whine, and he gives a stern look.

“I’m just… nervous. That’s it,” you tell him. You look down at your freshly pedicured feet. “I just want to be good for you.”

At that moment, Ari grabs your chin and pulls his lips into yours. The kiss is passionate like the one previously, but there’s a tenderness in this. It’s intimate like the ones you have during your late night cuddle sessions, but there’s an underlying hint of desire when you feel him nip at the bottom lip. Your toes curl, and the wetness in between your thighs grows.

“You are always good for me. You’re perfect for me.” He parts from you, turning your chin back to your reflection. “Look at you. I am so lucky you’re my girl.”

Before you can retort his statement, you gives a light slap to your ass, making you jump. “And don’t question it.”

“Ari,” you begin, locking eyes with him in the mirror. “It’s been a while-“

“I know, baby.”

“I wasn’t done.” He smiles at the little fire building inside of you. “And I’m worried about tonight. But if we can, I do want to try some things.” Your timidness returns, and something in Ari blooms. 

“We can do whatever you want tonight, baby. Can I you do something for me?” he asks. You nod fervently. “Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.”

The sounds of your and Ari’s blended moans fill the air. You lost track of how many times Ari made you come, but all you know is that you were thoroughly fucked out. He had made you cum with his hands, mouth, and cock so many times. You begged to let him suck you off, but he refused. Tonight was all about you.

“Alright, baby. Can you give me one more?” he asks softly as if he hadn’t tore you apart and used your body all night. He kisses his way up your torso, pressing open mouth kisses on your breasts and neck.

“No, I can’t,” you pant. Ari chuckles at your whines. They were the prettiest sounds he ever heard. “Please, no more.”

“Are you sure, sweetness?” he asks as he strokes his cock. His fingers slip between your folds and tease your entrance. He watches as they attempt to clamp down around nothing. “Because she wants some more.”

Ari lines himself up and slides into your channel. He bottoms you out but freezes, wanting you to feel him everywhere. You squeeze around him and cry out. You knew he was big, but you were shocked that he was able to work himself in. He fit deliciously around you. Ari wraps his arm around your neck, something you had asked excitedly him to do. You learned (and prayed for) that Ari was more dominate in the bedroom. And while he had been able to pull the sweetest sounds from your body and take control, you knew he was holding back from his true form.

“Just cum for me one last time, baby. I know you can do it. Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks giving you a sly smile. While you had disclosed you wanted to try this with a partner, Ari more than obliged at feeding into your desires. He was more excited than you expected. Despite your pleas, you give a small nod.

He begins working into a steady rhythm, starting slow. Before you know it, his pace quickens. He pulls all the way out before he slams back into you. You cry, nearly yell, out as he begins his brutal, relentless pace. His hold around your neck tightens, and you feel yourself growing slicker.

“My pretty girl,” he says. You preen at his words, loving his praises especially when he has so much control over you. “You have no idea how addicted I am to you. Everything about you.”

He picks up the pace, and his hands move to pick up your legs and change your position. You feel him reaching into you deeper and you know you don’t have much longer until you’re about cum.

“Ari, Ari, Ari!” you cry out. “I’m about to c-cum!”

“Cum for me, baby,” he orders. Your toes curl into the sheets, and you let out a scream as your earth-shattering orgasm washes over you. As Ari fucks you through your high, you feel his pace slow and pretty soon he’s roaring as he cums into you. 

When Ari comes down from his high, he sees he fucked you to sleep. He looks down at the mixing of your juices together and smiles. He could never get enough of this. He pulls out softly, missing the feel of you around him. He grabs a towel and cleans you up softly, careful not to wake you even though you whine from the feel through your sleep. Then, he climbs into bed, pulling your smaller body into his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your head and joining you to sleep. You sleep entwined with him, the sounds of your soft breaths lulling him to sleep with a smile on his face that you were his and he was yours.

feedback is much appreciated!

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Card Tricks | Chapter Three: Stuck

Stars Series | Card Tricks

Trigger Warning: Suicide

The eighteenth of December always seemed colder than any other day. As a day caught between autumn and winter, the actual temperature of it was relatively mild for the season. She’s seen it cloudy, raining, snowy, and even clear, but no matter how bright the sun shined or reflected off the frost, the eighteenth of December was always dark and colder than anything. To Laine Gladden, at least.

The sun was bright and filtered as she set out that morning. With the sun just over the horizon, the town was quiet, most of it still asleep. Since leaving school, Laine began to like mornings more and more, especially in this town - she could walk around and feel like she was the only soul in her neighborhood. She was finally able to understand why her mother would wake so early to watch the sunrise.

She wore a worn pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved shirt with holes in the sleeves, faux-leather boots she’s had since she was fifteen, and a maroon pullover with a school logo no one in this town recognized anymore. The sleeves of the pullover were pulled up over her hands, only her fingertips poking out. Her right hand was empty. In her left, a bouquet of reddish-orange chrysanthemums was held loosely at her side.

She heard the chiming of the bells long before she saw the church, but by the sixth and final chime, she stood at the gate of the churchyard. Here, she paused. The small graveyard hadn’t changed much with the exception of a few new plots. The same century-aged, hardly legible headstones loomed in the front; the same plant overgrowth, dead with the season but inevitable to be reborn in the spring, crept up the walls of the church; the same moss bloomed on the short stone walls the separated the yard from the street, despite how often children would pick at it as they walked home from school. If St. Catchpole’s Church hadn’t changed, then it only made sense that she did, because the headstones and steeples that once towered over her, casting her in their shadows, now seemed miniscule. She took a deep breath, visible in the cold, and pushed open the gate.

She wove through the headstones blindly, almost habitually, until she reached the north-eastern most corner of the yard. She knelt down to the flat marker that seemed to be set apart from the rest of the graves and started at clearing away the frosty, overgrown grass that obscured it. While the rest of the churchyard was well-maintained, this back corner and the few graves that resided here always seemed to be forgotten by the groundskeepers. Laine knew why, of course.

Slowly, the engraving became visible once again. When it was clear enough, Laine laid the chrysanthemums over top of it so that they framed the words Irene Murphy, beloved wife and mother, 4 May 1955 - 18 December 1990. She mustered a small smile and sat cross-legged at the base of her mother’s grave. The first tear of the day cascaded down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away.

“Hey Mum,” she said quietly, staring at the name ‘Irene.’ Aside from the wind, her voice was the only sound in the world. “Six years already, can you believe it?” She paused, as if waiting for a response. After a silent moment, she scoffed, shaking her head as another tear fell. “I don’t know why I thought this would get easier. It’s gotten better - I’ve gotten better, I mean. Most days are alright, normal even, if you could call it that, but today,” she sucked in a painful breath, and when she closed her eyes, she could still see the tall, slender figure standing too close to the edge, “it always feels like it did that day.”

Alone in the graveyard, Laine sat with the headstone of her mother for nearly an hour. She didn’t talk much after her initial greeting, but when she did, it was fairly impersonal. She told her about the spring and its blooming wildflowers; about the summer and its bright blue skies; about the autumn and its changing leaves - but she didn’t bother with winter. Winters were cursed long before Irene Murphy stepped off that bridge.

By the time the church bell chimed at seven, Laine had finally pulled herself away from the graveyard. The shadow of grief hung over her as she walked away, but as she turned the corner out of the church’s view, her head was held high, and she was the Laine Gladden that the town could recognize again. 

She was focused, making a list of what she had to do before the shop she worked at opened at nine. It wasn’t a very long list, but she knew today well enough to know that even the simplest of things wouldn’t be simple at all. With two hours to spare, she had to shower, get ready, walk the dog, and attempt to consume something more than coffee. Laine should be heading home, but again, she knew better.

She didn’t even bother looking into the windows as she approached the pub, and sighing, she knocked on the thick wooden door. Footsteps approached like she was expected - hell, at this point, she was - and the door swung open. 

After a stiff silence, the kind-faced woman offered her a small, almost guilty smile. “Good morning,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Laine in.

“You’ve got to stop doing this, Millie.”

Millie Cook was a woman who looked like she would fit in better at a school, surrounded by young, eager children, than in a bar, surrounded by men who didn’t want to go home to their wives, but here she was. Laine had never fully understood how The Ottery came to be in her possession or why in God’s name she even wanted it. Millie was too good for the drunks in this town - the one currently asleep in the corner booth especially.

“I know,” Millie started, wringing the towel in her hands. Laine strode over to the whiskey-smelling man and shook his shoulder. He did little more than groan. “It’s just, I - ” her hand still on the man’s shoulder, Laine looked back over her own, her eyes locking with Millie’s dull blue ones - “I know what today is.”

With almost a grimace, Laine turned sharply back to the sleeping man, her hair curtaining around her pale face. “Bobby,” she barked. The man grunted again, but didn’t show any other sign of consciousness. Exhaling sharply in annoyance, Laine turned back to Millie. “Could I get a glass of water and a towel?”

The woman had been sympathetically gazing at Bobby, but at Laine’s words, she stood straight, as if she had been doing something wrong. It took her a second to process her request, but as she did, she nodded in response and scampered behind the bar. She emerged a minute later with the requested items.

She had the slightest hesitation as she handed them to Laine, having an idea of what she was going to do, but still, she didn’t protest as the girl took them from her hands. Millie grimaced, looking away as Laine emptied the contents of the cup onto Bobby’s sleeping head.

“Fucking hell!” the man screamed as he sat bolt upright, his Irish accent coming out strong despite being parted from the Emerald Isle for nearly thirty years. His wide blue eyes immediately fixed on Laine, who hadn’t even flinched. “You tryin’ to waterboard me or something?”

“Not today, Bobby, not today,” Laine drawled, her eyes tired and unfocused. She threw the hand towel at his chest. “Clean up your mess,” she ordered, pushing herself up and away from him. “Millie already let you sleep here, you’re not going to make her clean up after you, too.”

Still high-strung from his rude awakening, Bobby looked incredulously after the girl as she walked away. “Don’t you go bossing me around, Lainey, I’m the parent here!”

Halfway down the bar, Laine scoffed. “Yeah?” she spun around to face him, her lips pursed. “Then fucking act like it.”

With Bobby dumbfounded and Millie pressed against the bar like she wanted to disappear into it, Laine walked straight to the door, not bothering to look back as she slammed the door behind her. Outside The Ottery, the girl paced back and forth in the soft light of a new day. Up ahead at the main street, she could tell that the town was waking up, and as she heard the tires against the pavement, or the soft chatter of children on their way to school, or the happy panting of a dog on its morning walk, she had the sudden desire to punch something. It’s not fair, she thought to herself, it’s not fair that to everyone else it’s a regular morning while I feel like I’m drowning. She felt a shudder work its way up from deep within her chest and she stopped her pacing to attempt to calm herself down. She was audibly hyperventilating when the door to the pub opened again.

Though he had woken with a start, Bobby couldn’t deny that he actually still felt a little drunk as he soaked up the water his step-daughter had poured on him. He apologized to Millie as best he could and stumbled to the door, but when he looked out and saw tears streaming down Laine’s face, he sobered up in an instant. He rushed down the stairs and pulled her into his arms. 

All resentments out of both their minds, Laine sunk into the arms of the man who raised her, falling into a place of vulnerability very, very few got to see. “I thought it would be easier by now,” she spoke through sobs.

Bobby held her tighter, trying his best not to fall apart as well. “I know, sweetheart, I know.”

Laine closed her eyes so tightly she saw stars and said nothing. Had it been anyone else, she would have protested, fought them, pushed them away - but Bobby Murphy was the only person in the world that did know.

When they had both calmed enough to stand on their own, Bobby and Laine started home. Bobby apologized for staying out all night again, Laine apologized for losing her temper, and then they fell into an easy conversation until they had made it home. With an hour and a quarter to spare, Laine started on her short list of things to do, and however painful, she did each and every one of them. She said goodbye to her sluggish, hungover step-father, pet the head of her ever-happy golden retriever, and set out for her day.

The bell on the door of The Written Word chimed in time with the first of nine church bells and Laine pushed her way in. “Morning,” she called out. She could hear the tea kettle whistling in the back room.

“Morning Laine,” her boss, Bea, called out. “Can you open up shop? I’ve got to call about that late shipment.”

“Sure,” she answered, pulling off her gloves and shoving them into her jacket pocket. She warmed her still-cold hands with her breath before flipping the small sign in the window from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ and making her way around the shop. Though she’s only been working here for a few months, Laine knew the paper shop like the back of her hand. She wasn’t much into stationery, but her best friend had always been obsessed, and they would spend many of their afternoons in this shop well before Laine started working here. It had actually been through Lizabett that Laine had gotten this job, taking over her position when she finally decided that she did want to go to Uni.

With everything in place, Laine settled herself behind the counter, removing her coat and helping herself to a cup of tea. It wasn’t long before Bea came out from the backroom, a frustrated look on her face.

“Everything alright?” Laine asked with raised eyebrows.

“A bunch of pansies, the lot of them!” Bea exclaimed, throwing the phone angrily back onto its receiver. “They’re worried about some supposed snow storm, so they’re delaying our shipment until January!”

Laine quickly matched her frustration. “We’re not supposed to be getting heavy snow for another week, at least!”

“I know!” the short woman exclaimed, pacing. “They’re acting like they’re shipping from bloody Scotland - it’s from London. That’s a day trip at most! I could drive there myself, and - ” she stopped very suddenly, an idea dawning on her - “I could drive there myself.” 

Her wide brown eyes shot up to meet Laine’s, and Laine knew what she was going to say in an instant. “You’re going to drive up there, aren’t you.”

“I sure as hell am!” Bea exclaimed, grabbing her coat and her keys. “The holidays are when we’re at our busiest - I am not going to run out of inventory. I know you’ve only been here a few months, but would you be comfortable - ?”

“Of course,” Laine answered immediately. “Go show those suits in London who’s boss.”

“I knew there was a reason I hired you,” Bea chuckled, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. As she pulled away, she handed Laine a set of keys. “Lock up when you leave for lunch, but I should be back before closing. Call if you need anything - I can always have Murray swing by.”

Bea was in the car to London not five minutes later, leaving Laine to her own devices. 

All alone, Laine let her preformative smile fade and let her chin rest in the palm of her hand. She did her daily tasks - stocking, cleaning, inventory - but without the interaction between herself and Bea, she finished in no more than an hour and a half. She retreated back behind the counter, sitting blank-faced with her hand supporting her head again, unconsciously staring at the sympathy cards. She longed for a break in the monotony, but not a single customer came in that morning.

By lunch, she traded blank stares at pale blue cards with pink flowers and sorry for your losses for blank stares at graveyards, sitting at a cold bench across the street from the church. She thought of nothing but going in to see her mother again for her entire lunch hour, but she sat frozen as a statue on the bench, her lunch forgotten. Her face was flushed from the cold by the time the church bells chimed and she made her way back to the store.

She walked along Main street with a quickness to her stride, unsure if she was rushing to get back to the store or put distance between herself and the church. Her mind was racing, her heart beating so loudly she could feel it pumping. Unlocking the door and flipping the sign to open once again, Laine hurried back behind the counter and sat at the register, breathing deeply. She had finally realized something.

Laine Gladden was stuck. She couldn’t get off that bench, she couldn’t look away from that card, she can’t get out of this damned town. As a kid, all she could talk about was going out and seeing the world. She knew there was so much more out there, and her plan, ever since she was seven years old, was to leave as soon as she finished school. She’d been out of school for a year and a half now. Most of her classmates had left as soon as they had gotten their diplomas, escaping to university or to London or anywhere other than Ottery St Catchpole, but Laine was still here, and she was beginning to think she always would be.

Her eyes closed, all she could see was the bridge and the lone figure that stood at its edge. There had been a fog so dense that she couldn’t even see the river below, but she could see her mother so clearly. She had turned to face her, her face almost unrecognizable, and Laine had slowly realized what was happening. She said something, like a whisper lost in the fog, but Laine hadn’t heard her as she ran, trying to reach her. She stepped off into the fog just before she got to her.

Her eyes shot open as she heard the bell on the door chime, tearing her out of the memory. She didn’t know if she was grateful or not, but she was thanking God that the card displays hid her from the customer’s view. She got the briefest glimpse of red hair over top of it.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

I love how Echo went from "I read the reg manuals for fun and insist we do everything by the books" to "I'm going to sneak onto this heavily-guarded imperial ship by myself and hope that I can get you guys on here too before I'm taken to an unknown location where I'll probably die. Oh, and I'm gonna do it by going up the droid chute."

[moonstrider9904]

Long overdue season two Tech gifset because I love those beautiful brown eyes and that exceptional mind.