#i was liking gerry last week but this week he's just... not it.

[scottmcstark]

"there's been no one true leader all the way through"

[coconut530]

THE THREE G’S

[sgiandubh]

News from Birmingham, part 3: verbatim

Verbatim means 'word for word' in Latin and it is often used in French to convey the idea something is being reported exactly as it actually happened.

Absolutely not sorry for the length, nor for the lost night spent on it.

So, here go the juiciest parts using the recording I am (for those joining in later) NOT allowed to post as is. Selection is mine and mine solely - editorial line and all the rest. Once I am done, I shall add my comments. It was hard for the girls to focus on what was being said on stage and write to me in DMs, at the same time. Recording everything was a risk, but also genius. The bits I am going to post are taken exactly as I heard them:

✔️on Blonde Bambino (yes, she elaborated and I had no idea when reporting live by proxy): '(...) and it's just amazing, he's the sweetest, sweetest thing and he looooves music. And, I feel like I succeeded being a mother purely because the other day he asked me if he could invite Kate Bush to his birthday'.

✔️on borrowed things from set: she regrets not having taken some things she liked from previous seasons. 'It's been a long time since I've borrowed anything (...). Terry gave me two nightgowns made in Season 1, she gave me one that was never used. And then she promised me a lot of things (...).' Wanted to 'borrow' something from her own surgery.

✔️on her involvement with the Blankfaces fashion label-cum- homeless charity in GLA: 'oh, that is Gerry who runs that, he is a friend of my husband's and he is just this amazing person who does grassroots organizing, you know, Blankfaces he's been doing for a long time. And I just met Gerry, you know, socially, and then I thought what he was doing was amazing, and I also found the clothes amazing and so I just bought them.' Further explains what Blankfaces does, the shop, the stories, including the food kitchen, but denies a more active involvement with the project/brand. 'I was just the other day at Hozier (...),he is amazing [cooing, booing] and I'm just paraphrasing from Andrew, and Andrew said this amazing thing, which was how we all want to be part of big things, right, you know to be a part of those things that would change the world, and all of that, but it's actually the small little things you do every single day, in your community, that have the biggest impact. (...) But you can buy their stuff online.'

✔️on producing a future movie based on Book Ten: 'I would not be in those competitions with Starz.'

✔️on her resemblance with Claire (oh dear God, not that question again!): 'As a kid, I was definitely not obedient, definitely not quiet and definitely not tidy, but as an adult, I ended up being more organized than I've ever thought I would be in my life (...) shocking (...). The world has changed crazy, (...) I used to talk to people and have opinions on things, but now it feels like a cesspool (...). I miss that space for conversation.'

✔️on 'Erself and the end of Outlander: 'well Diana came to visit, I actually don't know when it was, not that long ago, she came on set, sheeee... ugh, you'd have to forgive me, it was last season, it was so long ago, I can't remember what is what and I have to remember if she wrote something last season (...). Diana, she's created this world (...), she watches everything (...). But she's also allowed us to sort of make her characters our own and she's given us her blessing to do that, which has been amazing. And she still won't tell us the ending. [Voice in public: Sam knows!] Sammy... Sam THINKS he knows.'

✔️on the public impact of OL's Season 1 and sudden fame: 'I got this job so last minute, I was living in the US and I knew it was a US series that we're gonna be filming in the UK. And I read the first book so I was like, OMG sounds like an amazing show to film. But then I went from being cast to being in Scotland in one week. And then you're just like, you're working for 85, 90 hours a week. I didn't know who I was, where I was, what was going on. (...) and we went to Comic Con (...), I mean that whole year was a blur, an amazing blur, but a blur.' Had no expectations about what the show would become, it's now broadcast in 87 countries, 'it's insane, it's amazing'. Being able to be successful after 10 years is 'amazing'.

✔️on what she will miss most about Scotland or is she planning to stay in Scotland after OL is over: 'that's the million dollars question, I don't know. I mean, I think I'll... my husband is Scottish, so I think we'll always have something there, his parents both live there, so you know, we're not never going to be there at some point, but I don't know what is gonna happen after, but I am very, I feel, yeah, I feel like it's gonna be so sad not to... you know for 11 years, no matter like if we're gonna back in the United States or to London for a while we've always known we'd be back to Scotland at some point and be there for 10 or 11 months and so now I don't know, I don't know what the future holds, so....'

✔️on her and Tony sharing the same musical tastes: ' do Sam and I share the same music [Steve immediately BARKS: 'no, Tony, your real husband!'] Tony? Yes. Sam - no.'

✔️Sam's whisky or Graham's bourbon? 'Sam's whisky. I haven't tasted the bourbon, but bourbon is too sweet'.

✔️speaking about Steve - 'he's so mean'. In jest (?).

✔️her favorite part of making her own gin: 'tasting (...), trusting your senses'. The distillery changed, from the first to the second batch - the product's taste changed, a learning curve. They wanted to make sure it's still the same product.

✔️on regretting she did not start acting ten years earlier - mentioned not being ready for the responsibility of shooting 14, 16 hours a day, no sick days, etc: 'it's like a beast'. She felt OL came at the right time, was 'prepared and ready to be there' and eager to be given 'a shot (...): whatever you throw at me, I'll do it'. 'And I think for Sam was the same.'

✔️on memorable OL sets/places: Craigh Na Dun stones. 'The new place where we are, really cool. (....) Amazing stately homes like Hopetoun'. It's 'amazing.'

✔️on another parts in movies - she looks forward for 'good writing' and 'the character to speak' to her, in a new project, the people she will work with... Cliche AF. The Cut and The Amateur roles are 'not huge', the last she clearly said it was a small role, 'it's not my film, it's someone else's film'. She 'did not want to be working all the time, obviously with a small child'. Defined The Cut's plot as 'bizarre', and The Amateur as 'funny'. Loves her job, is happy with it.

✔️last question was asked by a French woman with a very thick accent, about traveling and learning things out of it - C. considers herself very lucky to have been able to travel all around the world as a model. Traveling taught her empathy, how to get over our very Christian centric view of the world. Mentions growing up in 'a very small village in Ireland, that was pretty much, you know, one church, one tiny school and one shop'. Her parents 'instilled a love of reading and learning'. Then she left Ireland to live in France and Japan, and traveled to Nepal. Nepal :'the trip that changed me and changed my life, because I was like seeing a completely different culture that had no correlation to anything that I grew up with, but it was the most beautiful spiritual awakening I guess I've ever had. (...) By traveling and by eating different foods and trying to speak other languages, which I try to do and I apologize to everybody because I try and speak your language, too, because I think (...) it's important to try and connect, because we expect people to come here and do that and it's so rude we don't go and do the same [ applause].' Being able to travel allows us to see how different and how similar we are'.

Ended with a huge thank you to fans, it's been so long that I wasn't attending a convention, 'but it meant the world to me to meet you all again, seen so many familiar faces, it feels so weird to be at the end of this show, because it has meant so much to me (...). Will see you all again soon.'

***

And now, for my comments and findings. Almost point by point:

Kate Bush, LOL (we'll never agree, C and I, on this one; but I can almost imagine Blonde Bambino cooing this - awww):

So, she basically repeated the same anecdote as last year, during promo. From Sade to Kate Bush, and hey, what about that birthday - 'the other day'? But let's not be nitpicky.

'Gerry' actually is Gerard McKenzie Govan, one of the three Directors and the founder of The Blankfaces CIC, a Community Interest Company (regular company with an increased social responsibility twist and, as such, heavily subsidized by the local authorities, too). More on him, here, for those who really want to know about him: https://www.glasgowwestendtoday.scot/magazine/the-man-behind-the-blankfaces-1391/. But that is not the most juicy part, actually - some blatant inconsistencies are. Like 'Gerry' being a friend of Nameless Husband's, but still she met him socially (huh? I thought he was a friend of Nameless Husband, hence a family acquaintance?). Also, C doesn't know shite about The Blankfaces, but still bravely fills in those blanks, like when she tells us fans Gerry has been doing Blankfaces 'for a long time'. The UK competent public authority, Companies House, says something very different and I can prove that the CIC was registered in 2018. Which is not really a long time at all:

'March 6, 2018 - Incorporation of a Community Interest Company' - see above. It also doesn't seem to be very well managed, at all:

Both its yearly accounts and its confirmation statement are long overdue (since 2023, in fact). The CIC is, actually, subject of an 'active proposal to strike off', which means it will be closed/dissolved, and rather sooner than later:

In their case, I suspect a compulsory strike-off, issued by the Companies House register. Fits with the legal criteria:

In a nutshell: because The Blankfaces failed to file its annual accounts and confirmation statement AND because it did not answer to the Companies House's two kind reminder letters, it will be forcibly dissolved in less than two months from now and there is NO going back on that decision, according to UK law.

Wouldn't C know about her Nameless Husband's Friend huge problems? I mean, how more tone-deaf and disconnected can you be, promoting a clinically dead business and inviting people to buy their clothes from their online shop?

Unless... Yeah, unless - but oooh, stupid shippers, slap a shipper, etc.

[Source: Moore and Stoke, an insolvency practitioners' firm based in Stoke-on Trent, UK - simply because they had the simplest and most recent legal explanation, see here: https://www.moorestoke.co.uk/active-proposal-to-strike-off/].

Compared to that, the fact that Tracula was nowhere to be seen at the recent Andrew Hozier-Byrne's concert in GLA is really peanuts. This is serious, legal stuff and please don't give me the 'she's an artist, she doesn't know shit about business' lame excuse. She is also a businesswoman, with her own spirits brand and several other companies, at least in the UK, Ireland and the US. Give me a break, #IYKYK.

Can't wait to be done with OL. Even the thought of a future movie based on Book Ten makes her cringe. Felt it in her voice and it was enough.

World feels like a cesspool? Why on Earth? She is a beautiful, successful and accomplished woman, with her own family and free from want. A cesspool is a very strong and strange word, in this apparent context. Unless.. but yeah, stupid shipper, slap a shipper. Missing conversations, expressing her opinion.... Not even LOL. It made me feel sad. Everything that happened to them since 2016 must be such a burden.

Sammy. SAMMY? Whoa, girl! Merci beaucoup, vraiment. Term of endearment, anyone? Compare with the stiff dead 'my husband' - again, the difference between a teddy bear and a guillotine is transparent in her voice. Also, DG - a difficult topic for her. She doesn't like 'Erself much and I think we all know why.

You tell me about 87 countries, Ma'am. I experience it every day, from the sidelines, so I can easily imagine what the impact could be for you. OL, that blessing and that curse. Also, when she is fed up with prodding and unwilling to kiss arses, she'd quip something along the lines of 'amazing' and be done with it.

Bonnie Scotland and the Day After. Another great moment of 'what the hell ever, just say anything'. Also, Caitriona Mary is a terrible, terrible liar - just like Sam Roland, you know. Her answer came out as incoherent and borderline illogical. Look at this: ' I mean, I think I'll… my husband is Scottish' - the 'I'll' part was her spontaneous starting to answer, about herself, but then inhibition kicked in and shit, she remembered she is married and had to somehow insert Tracula and both his parents (alive, just to make sure). Also, excuse me, hellooo: 'I think we'll always have something there'. Sounds like a flat, more like a pied-à-terre, but lo and behold, she suggests life is going to be elsewhere. What about that pharaonic McMansion, we so passionately followed the painstaking refurbishment of, double glazing included and borderline scandalizing the local heritage protection NGOs in the process? That doesn't really sound like 'something there', does it? That Bear Grylls flat looked more like 'something there', so where's the catch-22, here? What if I was right about McMansion being a fixer-upper she never planned to live in (where, oh where does The Happy Couple live? ooooh, ROFLMAO)? What if I was right about some other thoughts I am not ready to discuss yet? Questions, questions. And yes, London. IYKYK and very different from the emotional, savant blur. Also, for a very organized grown-up woman (her own words, see above), not knowing what the future holds... I mean I get it, but how peculiar, isn't it? Drawing a line, that question unsettled her. She was not planning to answer. She ended with a joke on not being able to see 'that yellow thing in the sky for five months in a row'. Get me out of this question and quick.

The music tastes' question was very clearly audible, even from the back of the room and I had zero trouble to distinctly hear it - it was also asked in a posh & polite British accent, so that helped a LOT: ' do you and Tony share the same music tastes?' The Freudian slip is simply inexplicable. Also, she answered Tony, not 'my husband' : Tony+ my husband in the same phrase is something beyond her strength. But why answer about S at all, that was NOT the question? Why? There are limits to dumbfuckery, after all. Also, Steve is such a pain in the arse. Who, in your mind and heart, is the real husband, C?

Whisky vs. Bourbon, she mumbled her answer, very uneasy, had to listen three times to untangle it. The Soup Nazi had to step in and bark the answer, train station megaphone style, for everyone to hear and get the memo. Now I understand why. And you should, too.

'He's so mean'. Definitely not in jest. Steve, that is. Fire that dick. Plus, later on, she quipped to him: 'you have the reputation of being like a strict schoolmaster'. Answer: 'maybe I am'. A cara nem treme, like they say in Brazil.

In that gin question, the Stan dutifully mentioned Tony (arse kissers, ALL OF THEM) - she could have mentioned him openly, she had a boulevard in front of her. But nope, she came back to mainly mentioning her own experience and a very vague 'we'.

'And I think Sam was the same' - conversations were had early on. In Central Park, London. And then things went very fast, as it sometimes happens. Sharing takes things on a very different level. I think this is exactly what happened to them.

Memorable places: they both are very moved by Craigh Na Dun, and it's absolutely normal. And Hopetoun - LOL, hello, of course ('The Door Faces North', pun totally intended).

Next two movies: so long for her Stans' delusions she was given a main role. She wrapped deception with grace and hid behind being a mom. ALL THE ANTI BLOGS WERE EERILY SILENT ABOUT THIS. I wonder why. Actually no, I don't. But sure, shippers twist things, shippers hide things. No shame, those people.

The last question, on travel, was my favorite one. I think it was perhaps the only time she felt able to fully express what she meant and wanted to. Many will jump on that Nepal reference and it is correct, but to me, on a very personal level, it spoke in many, many other ways. This is the C I have managed to embrace, reluctantly at first (I admit) and like a LOT. This is the witty girl I thought I have lost forever in that sea of painful innuendos, stupid Stans ass-kissing and blurring everything in the process, plus a Nazi minder on top. Fire that dick. Seriously. He wanted to end on a 'funny' Kumbaya note - she subtly managed to break free. Thank you, C. Seriously. The wonder you are and completely unaware of it. And the things you can do with words, if only you'd dare play with them some more.

Her tone at the end was emotional. Very. It was the same tone as for that 'partner everyday' gala speech. Oh, the things she wanted to tell all of us. And if we only knew. But hey, she promised we will meet again, soon. Perhaps in Paris? I'll gladly speak to you. In French.

A HUGE thank you. Both of you. I love you, girls.

[its-your-mind]

Gerry Keay really is the Character of all time.

Remember when we first met him through the eyes of that nurse and she was like “this man is literally covered in third degree burns everywhere except around the weird eye tattoos all over his joints. he should not be Physically Able to stand up through all that pain” and you were like “oh shit here’s another evil person with evil powers” but no. gerry really is Just Some Guy. he Was in debilitating pain from the third degree burns all over his entire body, he just decided not to deal with that fact until after he killed the bad fire man.

He also ignored any and all symptoms from a stage 4 brain tumor. like, it’s possible he just didn’t have any symptoms, that happens sometimes, but I feel like he probably had symptoms, he just Did Not Allow Them To Be Perceived. Migraines? No. Loss of sensation? Fuck that. Fatigue? He’s been exhausted for his whole entire life he doesn’t know what it’s like to Not be tired. Memory loss? Prolly that lonely avatar he fucked up last week.

And you Know life as Gertrude’s assistant was not like… a boring inactive desk job. I put one thousand moneys on the fact that she realized that this guy could push through any pain ever, and so she just sent him on progressively more dangerous and physically demanding tasks just to see if there was a limit

Gerry!! Keay!! He’s Just Some Guy, but he’s also covered in scars and marks and regularly experiencing debilitating pain, and he just looks at it and says “no thanks not for me actually. I got shit to do, people to save, leitners to burn, and old men to beat to shit.”

11/10 dude. no notes.

[wndaswife]

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

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

Word count: 9028

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

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

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

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

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

But she looked so pretty.

Gerri always looked so pretty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as you were with her.

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

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

You were wrong about that.

Or just disillusioned to begin with.

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

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

And Gerri… Where was Gerri?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That made you feel pretty good.

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

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

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

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

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

Everything that summer was perfect.

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

And that made you really, really happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt different. 

It felt horrible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An afterthought. 

That’s all you were to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not with her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… What?” you managed to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d never seen Gerri so upset before.

Maybe she was right.

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

Had your heart stopped?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Gerri urged you for a response. 

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t sure where you were going. 

All that you knew was that you needed to leave. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gerri!” the voice raised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You closed the closet and left for the station.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was rambling. 

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

Everything seemed pretty stupid right now — even you.

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

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

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

“Keep it,” you told her.

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

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

“Bought another one so I could leave early.”

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

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

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

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

You expected so much — too much.

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

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

You felt so stupid. Everything felt so… stupid. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So she started talking instead.

She started with: “I’m sorry.”

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

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” she repeated.

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

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

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

But she continued. 

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

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

Then she took a breath and met your eyes again.

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

She was stuttering a little. 

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

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

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

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

She kissed your cheeks and your temples.

“I want to kiss you here.”

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

An announcement came onto the speakers.

Five minutes left until the train was to leave.

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

Everyone else — where were they off to?

“Am I too late…?” Gerri whispered.

You looked back over to her. 

Everyone else… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some things just don’t change.

And that felt good.

[autismprotocol]

TMAGP Theory Board (Episode 8-9)

Hi guys sorry about the missed week of theory crafting my schoolwork has been extra demanding and I haven't been able to get around to updating the board until now so here's the updated board

Episode 8 especially was insane so I'm gonna break the episode breakdown into two sections.

What Happened in Episode 8: Running On Empty

New Norris Statement! it's been a while since we heard from our buddy and he did not disappoint. though there's not much to say story-wise this was just a cool incident report I loved the way they described the Lonely as a constantly hungry entity. I also noticed that the pattern of Norris's statements having to do with lost love continues to be true. it's much more subtle than his previous two incidents but the statement giver does mention losing his wife because of divorce. which I believe still follows the pattern I've theorized is taking place. 

Something up with Alice. She seems more depressed and serious than she usually is in this episode. (through episode 9 I think I know why but I'll get to that later. I don't believe she is completely in the dark like some of the newer employees and after hearing about Gwen's promotion she is getting suspicious. we have yet to know if Alice knows what's happening. but her behavior in this episode might give us a hint about how naive she actually is.

Colin is Absent. After his freakout in EP 7, Colin is MIA. according to Lena, he's on a mental health break but I would not be surprised if that is a lie.

Gerry and Gertrude are Alive!! Probably the most exciting development in this episode was meeting an alive Gerry Keay and Gertrude Robison. Sam is on the hunt for info about the Magnus Institute after the emails Jon has been sending him and he and Celia end up meeting Gerry who in this universe is considerably more happy and lives with Gertrude. I'm interested to know what role Gertrude plays in this universe is she at all connected to the Institute? I definitely think something is up with her because of the way she tries to deflect Sam's question to Gerry.

Celia Lore. after the meeting with Gerry leads to a dead end for Sam, Celia asks him to help her with her mystery. "I'm trying to look into... Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation" More proof for this Celia being from from Archives. why else would she be looking into other dimensions specifically if she wasn't trying to figure out what happened at the Panopticon. (Remember as far as we know Celia before the change in Archives was just a normal person she had no connection to the entities or the Institute.) when Sam asks, she says it's for her friend's podcast but I think she's lying. or not telling the full truth.

Georgie Barker Perhaps? speaking of the friend. our last reveal of the episode is Georgie in protocol. I don't think she is from Archives because Georgie appears after Jons's sacrifice in MAG 200. 

And thats it for episode 8 so im gonna move on to Episode 9

What happened in Episode 9: Rolling With It

Sam is back to filling out onboarding paperwork but the questions on it are strange. asking about past traumas, how many dead things you've seen recently, and the infamous question why? similar types of questions that appear in TMA job interviews.

A Magnus Statement!?! After Celia tells Sam she can't find anything at the Magnus Institute Sam considers cutting his losses and letting it go. But then Chester without any prompting begins reading a Magnus statement incident to Sam. I still believe Chester is Jon and he acts as a mentor to Sam trying to keep him safe by providing him with bits of the answers he's looking for. (this way Sam won't be in danger of looking for answers elsewhere and maybe he won't be targeted by this unknown force that had killed RedCanary and driven Colin to extreme paranoia.) the statement reveals that the institute collected and stored artifacts much like the Institute in Archives. 

What's the deal with the Institute? the statement Chester shares this episode is pretty standard Magnus stuff, magic fear dice is just another Thursday for TMAG enjoyers. but what I found most interesting was the pre-statement info. What does this viability survey mean? viable for what? I and my roommate have a kind of joke theory that the Institute in this universe is a hub for training and creating new avatars but now I'm starting to think this might actually be the case. I think they are looking for people who have the potential to become avatars as subjects. for the agents, they might be employing avatars to work for the institute and the catalyst has to be finding an avatar that can complete the ritual and bring the Change. The unknown statement giver in this episode can't be a subject because they are already claimed by a power from the dice (still unsure what power it is ) they have low potential to become an agent because based on the end of the statement they now want nothing to do with the dice stepping away from their identity as a fear avatar and then dying. and for some reason, the institute must see some potential that this individual can serve as a catalyst for the ritual. I'm hopeful we'll get another avatar statement and maybe we can revisit this Viability survey again 

Gwen's First assignment. Gwen gets her first Liason assignment and it has brought up a major player from the protocol ARG. Mr Bonzo is this weird mascot character that showed up multiple times in the ARG that was launched back in the fall of 2023. Gwen is tasked with delivering an envelope with a name and address to Nigel Dickerson someone who according to Gwen is known for Mr. Bonzo. Basically, I have no idea where this is going but I definitely think it must be important. 

Poor Alice. Alice meets with Teddy to catch up. Nothing story significant happens here but we do learn that maybe Alice still harbors some romantic feelings towards Sam.

The Ruins. After her conversation with Teddy Alice is approached by Sam with a request. He wants to go to the old Magnus Institute ruins and wants Alice to come with him. This is definitely a bad idea but she agrees and that's where we leave off

and thats it for now. The story is getting so good and I'm already attached to all the characters so im terrified to see what Sam and alice dig up at the ruins (Sam clearly didn't heed the warning of the RedCanary)

[werewolves-are-real]

Time Travel Temeraire snippet

At first, Laurence assumes he's dead.

It's a natural conclusion. He remembers dying, after all.

He and Tenzing were at a function hosted by Wellesley. They were mostly there to support the dragons. Temeraire had long abandoned them to quarrel with Perscitia in the courtyard, with half a dozen ferals watching like it were a jousting match. Wellesley had laid out his grounds to allow room for dragons and men to mingle, but a good portion of the guests retreated inside to avoid the raised voices of the dragons.

Laurence wonders how Temeraire felt about that, later. About not seeing.

He was stabbed. He barely remembers it – just a quick pulse of pain in his chest, looking down. Red blooming over his coat.

Then he was on the floor. People screamed. Tenzing appeared, grappling with a tall and finely-dressed man; he used a dinner-knife to punch a hole in the stranger's throat, in a fantastic spray of blood, and dropped the body at once to kneel by Laurence's side.

He remembers Wellesley barking orders – bandages, water, a hot knife. Have to cauterize it, he'd shouted. Keep pressure -

But Tenzing never spoke. Just pressed down on Laurence's chest, over the wound, without particular panic. Laurence still remembers the grim resignation on his face; Tenzing knew what was coming. Laurence was glad to have him there when he died.

Then Laurence woke up.

The world sways in a familiar way, a rhythmic motion that Laurence registers on a soul-deep level. He's on a ship. But why? Where is Tenzing, Temeraire? Why would they put him on a ship?

“I think the fever's breaking,” says a voice. A naval doctor, disheveled and salt-stained, with long scars down his bared arms. “Oh, and awake too!”

“Well thank Christ,” says another man. One Laurence recognizes.

It's Captain Gerry Stuart – but he looks different, younger than the last time Laurence saw him, with smooth skin and dark curly hair.

Gerry died two years ago.

“Well, Lieutenant! You gave us a scare – how are you feeling?” Gerry asks.

“It's Admiral,” Laurence corrects rather than all the other things he does not dare ask. He hates the title foisted upon him; but it's at least more comprehensible than Lieutenant, and he clings to that rather than demand where did you come from.

Stuart throws back his head to cackle, though the concern doesn't leave his face. “Still perhaps a bit feverish, I think!”

“That might be the laudanum,” says the doctor, also amused. “Why don't you sleep a bit more, Lieutenant?”

“But where is Temeraire? Or Tenzing?”

“I can only assume you had some very vivid dreams,” Stuart chuckles. “You were babbling and babbling for Temeraire – isn't that a ship?”

“Perhaps the flagship of his fleet,” suggests the doctor, and Stuart laughs again. “Get some rest, Mr. Laurence. Holler if you need me.”

They both exit the sick-berth. Laurence stares blankly at the door.

What?

Laurence pats his chest. No wound. He looks down, startled by the pale thinness of his fingers, his youth-soft skin.

Well; not soft. Callouses cover his hands. But even these patterns are different – hard skin in places where he would hold a sword, or pulls ropes. His hands should be more wrinkled, yes; but these callouses faded years ago.

“Where am I?” he asks when the doctor returns. “And what is the year?”

“The year? 1793. You don't remember?”

1793. Laurence was 19 in 1793. A lieutenant for two years, on the Shorewise.

The doctor narrows his eyes. “What's my name, lad?”

Laurence swallows. His stomach churns; for the life of him he can't remember.

The doctor rushes off to retrieve the captain.

_____________________________

Laurence is diagnosed with brain fever, and partial amnesia. Gerry is horribly guilty about laughing, earlier; Laurence could not care less. He is given strict orders to stay on bed-rest for another week, in hope his strength will recover – and his mind.

Laurence doesn't think he'll have any issues working – he's forgotten many of the people around him, true, but he may never forget the way to run a ship. He's far more concerned with learning what happened.

From all appearances, it is indeed 1793. France is undergoing riots, and declared war against Britain in February. Temeraire has not hatched. Napoleon is probably a corporal or general himself, at this point. If he exists at all. God knows, perhaps Laurence is only mad.

But he doesn't feel mad. His memories are too vivid to be mere fever-dreams. A man cannot dream up twenty years of life!

But neither can a man go back to his youth, and live it all again.

I have a dragon, he thinks of saying. There is no war, because I captured Napoleon – an unknown man who makes himself emperor.

Mad. It sounds mad even to Laurence himself. But to imagine that Temeraire was a fever-ridden dream... Tenzing and Granby and China, all of it...

Laurence doesn't share his turmoil with anyone – not even with Gerry, who checks on him fretfully. After a week the doctor declares him well enough, physically. He's paired always with another lieutenant for the first few days on duty, and his shipmates watch him carefully for signs of permanent debilitation; but aside from a moment or two of hesitance, Laurence competently resumes his duties. The oversight lessens.

Laurence thinks about writing letters.

He thinks about writing to Tharkay's late father, who ought to still be alive, inquiring after his son. He thinks of writing to Prince Mianning, asking about the health of Lung Tien Qian. He thinks of writing to young Midshipman Granby, his unwed brother, his dead father...

Not all of them would reply. But he could ask questions. Could verify the truth of things. Unless this, instead, is the delusion.

Is he in 1793, imagining the future? Is he in the future, imagining the past? Or maybe he is already dead, and this is the reality of hell. He came here burning with fever, and now he burns with fear. Surely that is it's own form of torture.

Laurence is ironically given the task of tutoring the midshipman and lieutenant-hopefuls more than any other duty as the weeks pass; his crewmates still look askance, and the more eager of the midshipman become protective. Laurence remains perfectly capable of command; it is only that he can't help but be absent-minded, sometimes, staring at all the crewmen that pass him like they are nothing but moving paintings. Images of a world that no longer matters.

One evening the midshipmen drag him away to a meal with the other officers. It's a noisy crowd; Laurence would find the friendly bustle comforting in another life.

One of the senior officers, Lieutenant Moore, waves him down as Laurence enters. Evidently they used to be friends, given his notably concerned behavior of late. Laurence can't remember the man, and has a sneaking suspicion he died too soon to make a lasting impression.Moore jostles him when Laurence sits at the long table. “Will! Did you get any letters with the last batch?”

A patrolling gunboat brought a satchel of letters just this morning. “I did not,” Laurence says. He's grateful for the fact. He'd found a few pieces of correspondence in his quarters that he dutifully sent on; he cannot imagine writing a letter now, in this confused state.

“Then you've had no news! Robespierre has gone mad. Madder than before, I suppose.”

“Robespierre?” asks Laurence blankly.

Lieutenant Moore double-takes, as does everyone else around them. “Good lord, Will, please tell me you remember Robespierre?”

Right... Robespierre's reign was brief, but this is when he led France. Some of the things the papers published...

Well, at least Laurence has a well-worn excuse for his ignorance. He plays up his malady: “Yes. I think I recall he was... French?”

Groans of horror mixed with amusement echo around the table. “...Well you aren't wrong,” says Moore, looking pained. “He has styled himself the 'President' of their Assembly, which is some stupid way of being king; the French are all mad about removing and adding words right now. I don't know how they expect anyone to hold a conversation.”

“We should... probably educate Mr. Laurence about the war at some point,” some midshipman mutters. Laurence doesn't recall his name.

Moore sighs again. “Anyway. Robespierre is a tyrant, of course. But he's elected someone else to rule France! Barely more than a boy, too.”

Laurence frowns; he doesn't remember what Moore's talking about. “Why would he do that? Did they capture one of the Bourbons?” Declaring himself regent of a child-prince would at least make sense.

“Well, at least you remember them. No; it is some nobody, a young soldier. Not even French! I cannot fathom it.”

It feels like Laurence has been dunked in ice.

For a moment he can't respond. “What was his name? The soldier.”

“Napoleon Bonaparte. He has been chosen as head of their new heresy, the 'Cult of the Supreme Being,' they're calling it; and now de facto head of the government, too. Must be a priest? I don't know, nothing the French are doing makes sense. I expect his little group will be as short-lived as everything else about these riots.”

But Laurence doesn't think so. “...Excuse me; I'm feeling a bit poorly,” he says, rising on wavering legs.

“Yes, you look it! Go on, we'll tell you about the war later...”

Laurence flees.

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

8. "You should eat something" GerryMichael? Your writing is incredibly nice to read through, thank you for taking time out of your day to write and post so many cool fics! Take care of yourself <3

"You should eat something."

"Can't," Michael answered bruskly, turning on his heel to pace the other direction. "My stomach's in knots. I'll probably just get sick on him."

"Bet that won't be the worst thing Bouchard's gotten on him," Gerry tried to joke, but Michael just whined and kept pacing. It was one thing to virulantly hate his boss and fantasize about killing him from a distance, but he was terribly anxious about being face to face and alone with him. Usually it was Gertrude's job to give the Head of the Institute a report about the Archive's activities, but she was off in America and sending very sparce updates, and left him behind to deal with Elias. He'd been dreading their scheduled meeting for days, and would continue to dread for the next twenty-five minutes until it was finally time to face him. He didn't know if he wanted the time to pass faster or slower, so he could get it over already, or keep from ever having to see him. It was awful.

Gerry caught his hand as Michael swung by again, pulling him gently down into the seat opposite him. "Eat," he ordered, holding a fruity granola bar to Michael's lips. "Please." Michael obliged him, leaning forward to take a bite and giving him a sassy eyebrow raise.

"Happy?"

"Not in the slightest," Gerry sighed, his free hand came to rest on Michael's jittering knee, squeezing and rubbing it soothingly. "I'd be much happier if I went with you, or you didn't have to do this at all."

"Same." Michael took another bite, forcing his dry throat to swallow the mouthful of grains and fake fruit. He did want Gerry with him, but there was no way they could get away with it, since Gerry wasn't an employee, and could barely considered a freelancer for the Institute. "He's probably up in his office getting off on how anxious and worried we are."

Gerry's face screwed up in exaggerated disgusted agony. "Please don't ever mention Elias and getting off in the same sentence again," he groaned theatrically.

Despite his worries, Michael managed to smile at his reaction. "If Gertrude is right, and he is connected to the Eye like we are, he'll probably notice if I try to imagine him in his underwear too," he giggled.

"That's horrific," Gerry snapped mildly, peeling away the remaining wrapper of the bar. "That's the worst image you've ever put in my head. How dare you."

"If I have to suffer then so do you." Michael took the last bite and leaned forward in his seat, inclining towards Gerry. Gerry leaned in as well, and they met in the middle, foreheads pressed together. Michael closed his eyes, soaking in the familiar smell of Gerry, the comfort of his presence. It was everything to him, the love he felt for Gerry, and felt in return. Enough to distract him from his dread.

"You've got this," Gerry assured him, taking his hands and entwining their fingers together. "You'll do just fine up there. It's not like you can be fired from this place."

"But he could do a lot worse than that," Michael pointed out grimly, and watched Gerry hold back a wince.

"That won't happen," Gerry swore. "You'll tell him what he wants to hear and then you'll come back here and we'll call it a day. We'll go get some sushi and eat it in our pants on your sofa and we'll forget about how stressed we've been for the past few weeks." Still holding Michael's hands, he framed his face and ducked in for a kiss, lingering and sweet. "So get up there and give that old bastard hell."

"Thanks, love," Michael sighed, taking another kiss for courage before standing up. He wrapped up Gerry in a hug for good measure, wishing he could stay there for as long as possible. Anything to avoid Elias.

"Is this drama necessary?"

Michael and Gerry sprang apart in shock. Gertrude was standing in the doorway, looking frazzled and exhausted, but she was there, and Michael could honestly say for once he was happy to see her.

"Not anymore!" he said cheerfully, smiling brilliantly. "Now you can report to Elias instead of me."

Gertrude gave him the most exhausted and unimpressed look he'd ever seen from her, and that was saying something. "I'd truly rather not," she sighed, dropping her luggage by the door. "But I do have information to impart on him, so I will accompany you."

"Wait," Gerry snapped, pulling open a drawer in the desk that he'd more or less claimed as his. He pulled out a Polaroid and considered it, silently comparing the Gertrude before them to the Gertrude on the picture. He held it to Michael to take a look, and he nodded. "You do seem to be the real Gertrude Robinson," he conceeded. "You had me worried for a moment, being so kind and considering to us."

"I'm simply overjoyed to be back," Gertrude deadpanned, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. "You should come along as well, Gerard, I'd rather not explain this twice.

Gerry exchanged a look with Michael as they followed her out of the Archives, and Michael took his hand to squeeze it. Her return didn't solve all of their problems, and came with its own anxieties, but at least he wouldn't have to face Elias alone now.

[motions1ckness]

“Sweetheart”

This is pt 2 to my last story “Don’t Call me Kid”!! Read that first so this’ll make sense! ♡

Summary: After Kendall’s birthday, your relationship with Roman seemed beyond repair. Until he comes into your office to talk about Caroline’s wedding. (3x08)

Content: Established relationship, f!reader, insecurity, repressing emotions, bit of angst, implied body image issues, mention of age gap, dom/sub relationship dynamics, fluff?, roman hating himself

It’s been almost a week since Ken's birthday, and you've been doing your best to avoid Roman Roy. I mean, you work with him since he’s technically your boss. Luckily, you have your own office, helping you isolate until he apologizes, which he hasn’t yet. He hated talking about his feelings. But, he hated your absence more. Before all this, Roman had invited you to Caroline's second wedding as a plus-one. The thought of having to brush off Roman's actions and show up as his date made your stomach knot.

But the wedding was in two days, meaning the flight was later today. The miscommunication between you two made it unclear if you were still going. While wrapping up an email, you heard a patterned knock at your door. To no surprise, you saw Roman through the glass with his head hanging low. Great. You slightly rolled your eyes as you signaled him to enter. This will be swell.

He shuffled to the couch, indirectly facing you. He seemed anxious. You took notice of his abnormal behavior the past week, being less involved in conferences and more in his head. Like someone turned off his neuro receptors. He started picking at his nail beds, refusing eye contact with you. Again.

You scooted your chair, making him clear in your eye line, “So, what’s up?” acting oblivious. Of course, you knew why he was there. You both did. But perhaps he could dumb it down because 'you’re so young.'

He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head “ I was just, uh, checking in. Like seeing if you were going to Italy still? You know, with me? Like is that still a thing?” On the last question, he eventually met your gaze. His delicate eyes made you empathetic. You can't shun him out completely? He needs to apologize. He needs to apologize.

Cocking your neck, “I don’t know ‘sweetheart.’ I might try to fix you with my terrible, aching savior complex because ‘I’m just so young and naive.’” Using his own words against him. Making it evident you were not over that night.

Roman shuddered at your response, darting a remorseful expression your way. You didn’t like fighting with him, and the last thing you wanted to do was argue. But you couldn’t let him get away with this. “Y-yea, whatever y/n, I’m a piece of shit. Okay? Fuck, is that what you want me to say?” He stood, throwing his hands up, peering down at you.

You scoffed, “Yea, whatever Roman, you’ve answered your question,” you fixed your attention back to the computer until Roman angled the screen towards the window, forcing you to stare at him.

“No, c’mon y/n. Fuck,” fighting with himself, if he could be vulnerable. “I just, don’t want to fight anymore. I mean c-c’mon. F-fine I’m sorry, there. Y/n, I'm serious. I am sorry. P-Please.”

Reconciliation isn't recurring between you two, especially when he’s begging for your forgiveness. His puppy dog expression helped his apology, “Okay. Thank you for apologizing. I just, I think I need some space. Maybe I'll fly separately,” you attempted to put on a sincere smile. Trying to ease the blow, hoping this doesn’t cause his insecurity to run rampant. You weren’t rejecting the invite, but you worried how Roman would react.

His face dropped a bit, not completely satisfied with your response, “Okay, I, uh, I guess I’ll see you there then.” He thumped on the top of the door frame as he left your office. Shit. Is he disappointed?

—

You flew in with the rest of the staff. Gerri kept you company, talking strategy about GoJo. Your flight arrived first, beating Roman to the shared room in the Villa. It was beautiful. You threw yourself onto the massive mattress, allowing your brain to rest for the first time since the party. You could’ve fallen asleep; until you heard a gentle knock at the door, followed by an entrance.

“I can see you had a lovely flight,” you turned your head to see Roman shutting the door behind him. A faint smile appeared on your face. “C’mon, we need to walk down for welcome drinks and see this, Peter Onion motherfucker,” having a slight smile, he stepped to the edge of the bed, holding his hand out for you to latch onto.

You pull yourself up while fixing your hair. You two were close, still holding hands, his other resting on your hip. He scanned your body, “You look fucking hot y/n, but maybe less ‘I want to fuck my boss’ and more ‘I'm meeting my boss's mom.’” You smirked at his comment, pulling away to get your bags left outside the door.

The two of you faced away from each other and started to change, “You know, I like spending time with you Rome,” turning your head to meet his gaze. You didn’t want to say love. Worried he’d freak out at the phrase.

He adjusted his shirt, smiling to himself, “Yea, I like spending time with you too.”

[wonderpommey]

Well Jesse said it, no one truly changes and indeed nothing really changed in the couples’ dynamics in the end.

The show dangled a possible happy ending for Connor and Willa for a second but of course it tears it away in the finale. We already see Willa squirming under Connor’s grip, grappling with the “sexy second week itch”. Roman is particularly repulsed by that pairing; buying a young escort-type woman and parading her as somehow worthy, as a ‘wife’. There’s something so offensive to him about that. We never see Roman give Gerri anything of monetary value. He’d never want to buy her, he’s desperately attracted to how real she is, to the experience and things she can teach him, in every possible way (sex & advice). He wants what she is willing to give, not what he can buy. The only time money comes into their relationship is the exit package (pass!) and even that is essentially just another lesson she’s teaching him. You wanna rule with emotion, the next person will take you for everything you’re worth!

Shiv's adoption of Tom remains partly strategic. It moves from "not being betrayed" to "holding onto power", it has very little to do with love. Shiv continues to push sadistically to see how much she can get away with, how close patriarchy will let her get to being her own woman. Then, when Tom or Logan tells her she’s gone too far, she folds. And Tom loves her enough or loves being in the fold enough that it works in the succession universe, it becomes a deal of somewhat terrifying equals. And that was what succession was all about. Capitalism, patriarchy and the oppression of women. What men demand things like love and care from women, but they actually lose any genuine connection the second they take a woman's agency away from her… Sure you get her by your side physically for a while but you crucially loose her very desire to be there.

Roman and Gerri’s relationship remains a study in longing and sensuality. They are barely featured in the finale but Roman sets the tone by going down on mummy’s cheese. Oh succession and its cheesy genitals, the ricotta dick! The grilled cheese with a sucked dick! The whole kitchen scene is obviously an allegory about the lack of food and incidentally love Caroline has supplied to her children. It’s only scraps, rot and fire going into that smoothie. But Oedipus-Roman, doesn’t want the smoothie, he wants the tasty morsel of maternal love which isn't for him. He doesn’t bite by the way, he only licks. Unlike his last second on screen, he can’t go as far as actual consumption. Did he want Lobster? No, he wanted the most love. Did he want steak? No! He wanted to be picked above Kendall!!

Speaking of what’s not for him... He then has to watch Gerri talk about the pleasures of a slow screw. It’s a sudden exposure to her sexuality, a validation of his intuition that she likes being superior to her conquests, sexually, spiritually. Something he knows he can give her alongside the painful realisation that she opens up - to others - in that way.

Then the office breakdown. I still look good, I still look the part “Why isn’t it me?” What are the rockstar and the molewoman when the rockstar is just a big sack of bullshit? And Ken reaffirming he’s not good enough, he’s pure emotion, he doesn’t have the drive, he only ever wanted a ride or die.

All culminating in his only true, almost naturalistic documentary-style consumption of the season; Gerri’s martini. Drinking in the quasi love of his life (I could do a whole post about how wild it is that Jesse ‘I don’t want to tell you what to think’ Armstrong said something so totalitarian). This isn't the first connection between an older woman’s sexual appetite and her drink of choice this season! Remember Roman’s reaction to the image of Nan liking her wine like she likes her men!

Sure, the outer layer of that scene shows Roman, having lost the company, his lover/mentor's good will, and any way he knows of interacting with his siblings in a bar drinking alone, overly dressed, old Hollywood style. A potential regression to his sad playboy lifestyle (Jesse), or the start of a hopeless spiral of alcohol abuse (Mark - who has since then said he saw how Roman’s ending could be perceived as hopeful). 

Upon closer inspection, his inferiority/beta complex, his emotions, his desire to be loved, his desire NOT to be in charge/on top - everything that his dad loathed to see in him - are finally showing through the physical scars on his face. He gave it a valiant try, but he couldn’t keep parading as whomever Logan wanted him to be and he realises that it makes him an unworthy heir and in the same breath, access to Gerri is disallowed. It still overwhelms him with emotion, but in the same way Oedipus took his own eyes and couldnt see Jocasta and longer, Roman only gets to see Gerri through screen and glass anymore. He demanded she believed he was as good and as ruthless as his dad and he turned out not to be. Objectively, it’s not a prerequisite to Gerri’s feelings for him as she responds to his pathos way more than she does to Logan's death, but his psyche is convinced he no longer deserves to be in her presence.

So he does the only thing he can do to keep her as close as he needs. Don't be fooled by the luxurious, civilised quality of the drink, this is a biological need,  pure sustenance (Get her inside of him, under his skin, into his bloodstream and pumping to his heart). He bites his lip as the liquid enters his mouth, swallowing dramatically, loving the burn & hating the pain. 

And we’ve come full circle on the theme of consuming each other. From the partnership-worthy mutual cannibalistic proposal of season 2, to the toxic if slightly castrating injunction for her to go down on him and devour him. Season 4 breaks him enough that he gets to the opposite nihilistic ideation that he’s nothing and hence has no claim on the company or being her protégé. The truth - that we don’t know if he can get to - is somewhat in between. All these kids are very smart and worthy in their own ways, even though of course the expectation placed on them to be exceptional prevents them being satisfied in being maybe just that.

His final scene showcases the sad and lonely consumption of the woman he loves’ essence, a poor ersatz for the ‘old gal’s juices’ that he doesn’t deserve. All he has to offer being something he has never been able to name or express without the alibi of the company; an amorphous, unworthy, unnamable but ultimately undeniable feeling.

And possibly in the writers’ minds, this is the suicide part of their contemporary Romeo & Juliet drama. Dying with the blade and the poison after daddy said the love was unacceptable & unobtainable? I mean come ON! 

Roman “knifed” Gerri (This is rhetoric they use ON THE SHOW), she completed the execution by taking herself out and brought him the threat of annihilation (while ordering the poison; a martini). There is a delicious poisonous quality to the drink isn’t there (or its abuse)? And of course, if he dies he’ll die by her, he’ll taste the poison she chose off her lips, because if he has lost the love of his life in this eternal quasi status, it becomes the only worthy pursuit.

That was the roman-esque question of the show. What is love if it’s always been withheld, if it’s always been expressed via the proxy of the company, if it’s never been given freely, or modelled or held as something precious and worthy that had to be protected? And what if it makes you ravenous for it? And how could you get it, this thing you most desperately want, if you’d never been given the tools?

O true apothecary, Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. 

[sunflowerdigs]

Unpopular opinion: while obviously in a strictly legal sense, Gerri was in the right last week, from a larger storytelling perspective, neither Gerri nor Roman was completely in the right or completely in the wrong. Their situation is incredibly complicated and deeply poisoned on both sides by the abuse that Logan institutionalized during his tenure.

Because, here's the thing - Gerri has shown that when she wants to, she can overlook rule violations from her boss. She did it for 30 years with cruises. In fact, she was the one who instituted the policy that said that all of the cruises stuff was to be cleaned up quietly behind the scenes and the family wasn't to know about it. When Kendall expected Tom to eat the shit for him? That came from years of best practices created by Gerri. That is why, in episode 2x07, she is able to reassure Logan that there won't be paper tying the family to the crimes. She never yelled at Logan or told him that he needed to go through the proper channels to pay off Mo's victims. Oh, right, and when Logan got caught, she cleaned that up for him, too, so that he wasn't held accountable.

Like, honestly, it's a bit of a joke that, after all of that, she's pulling Roman in by the ear for not firing an employee correctly. How does that compare to Logan allowing hundreds of sex workers to get used, abused, and violated so that, presumably, Lester wouldn't blackmail him?

And it's because of Gerri's history at WR that Roman knows that when Gerri comes at him in 4x06, she isn't doing it because he violated a rule and it's policy that she needs to scold him. Because she hasn't done that to a CEO in 30 years. No, she's coming at him because she is pissed about what happened between them and this is her way of taking back some control. He can see that, from that point forward, every time he forgets to dot an "i" or cross a "t", she is going to be there treating him like a teenager. So, if he is going to keep power and maintain the office hierarchy, he has no choice but to fire her. Now, she can go to HR about him, that is totally fair. But when HR asks for the company precedent on employee sexual harassment and wrongful termination, guess whose 30 years of precedent they're going to find? I hope Gerri is happy with a payoff and an NDA.

But here's the truly tragic thing, I think. Roman was one of Logan victims. Roman was NRPI. And everyone knew it. When Logan hit Roman in front of everyone in 2x06, instead of even just hauling Logan in for workplace harassment (Roman was an employee at the time), Gerri just said "it played well" and, like everyone else, pretended the hit hadn't happened. In the scene in 4x06, Gerri is trying to hold Roman accountable for a workplace violation against a woman, likely in part because she knows that he will never get held accountable for his violation of her trust with the dick pics. And Roman is throwing it back in her face and saying that Gerri should just clean it up like she did for Logan because Roman was one of Logan's messes that consistently got swept under the rug, both by Gerri and by others. And the fact of the matter is, they're both victims and both perpetrators of this system and instead of holding the root cause of their suffering accountable, they're shouting at each other. And it sucks.

[captainvastolation]

Looked around AO3 and said “why the hell hasn’t anybody written Michael helping Gerry dye his hair??” and my first fic was born. 21k later, we finally got to the original inspiration.

“Fucking hell,” he sighed to himself and crouched to rummage around in the cabinets. He swatted at Michael’s legs to get it to lift them out of the way, and it obliged with a pointed look.

“What are you doing now?” It peered down at him from behind its knees. It had curled up into a tight fold on the counter much like it had on the couch the first time it had showed up at his flat. Gerry found the effect quite funny, actually. How it could go from something so large and imposing into such a relatively small ball was beyond him.

He rummaged around blindly, pushing past old, rough towels and half-used but long-forgotten tubes of toothpaste before his fingers brushed against what he was hoping for: the smooth edge of a little box he’d stolen from the chemist a few months ago, probably whenever he did his hair last.

In a few practiced motions, the various chemicals were in a small plastic bottle, and he shook it hard with his thumb over the top. His free hand riffled through the instructions and other nonsense in the box. What, no shit plastic gloves? It wasn’t that he cared if the dye stained his skin some, but he’d done his hair before without any precautions, and the deep bluish stains on his hands and nail beds took eons to fade. It almost made it look like his hands were unevenly rotting, and it was something he’d done his best to avoid since. He set the bottle back down to properly search through the few drawers under the sink. Hadn’t he had gloves at some point?

Ah, yes. The empty box laughed at him in his hand. Gerry of the past really enjoyed making things difficult for Gerry of the future. Presently, he was vexed with himself.

Michael’s question lingered unanswered as he chewed the piercing scar inside his lip. He glanced up at it, and its eyebrows still raised as if asking again what the hell he was up to. He sighed deeply and leaned back against the opposite wall.

“I need to do my damn hair, but I’m out of gloves, and since I get the cheap stuff it stains like hell. And I hate dealing with majorly stained hands for weeks.” He took another swig from the bottle of whiskey. It was nearly empty. “Guess I’ll just try to do it fast and scrub my hands while it’s processing.”

“I did not realize I was interrupting your regularly-scheduled grooming day,” it said with a giggle. It bounced in its bizarre echoes around the small space, but he found that he was pretty unphased by it at this point. Or maybe he was just still recovering from looking at it in the mirror and didn’t notice the additional headache.

“Oh, piss off. Guess I’m having uh, one of those…” he snapped his fingers a few times searching for the word. “Self care days! Yeah, that’s what rich white women call it. Why not.”

“Self care day?” It tittered back at him.

“Yeah, it’s when you do shit for yourself so you want to die a little less, or something like that.” He found a hair tie in the depths of another drawer and pulled the top part of his hair up into a tight bun. He grimaced slightly at the sight of it. Preppy did not suit him.

He focused on the task at hand, tracing the sectioned part with the nozzle, rubbing it into his scalp, moving to the next little section. He hadn’t realized until he put it up just how long his hair had gotten. Tilting his head to the side, a section spilled around to the front. It was damn near to his shoulder blades. Might not have enough dye. Shit. It was a problem for later. He’d already started; no stopping now.

As he continued working around the back of his head, he stopped to stretch his neck and shoulders. Twisting around to try to cover his scalp evenly was wearing on him, especially as the tipsiness settled into a comfortable drunk. Already paused, he tipped back the bottle and finished it off. Tasted like shit and burned going down. Between the burn in his throat and the sharp smell of hair dye, he reveled in the familiar discomforts.

He tried to turn his head in the mirror to see where he might have left off. He was trying to use his hands as little as possible at this point, since it would hardly be seen anyway. Michael’s soft laugh wrapped around him again, and he shot it a glance.

“Can I help you? You’re the one loitering in my flat watching me do this.”

“Oh, does someone not enjoy being observed? How curious,” it replied casually. “I find it funny that the Little Watcher has no eyes in the back of his head to see what he is doing.”

Gerry snorted and raised a middle finger to it, equally casual. He saw the first dark splotch sinking into the whorls of his fingerprint. Dammit.

It broke into a full laugh like he hadn’t heard before. It was a true belly laugh, with its head tipped back and its eyes closed. Its shoulders and chest shook with the force of it, and the sound deeper and fuller than its usual creeping giggles, washing over him in waves from every direction. Try as he might to keep a stern face, the unfettered joy was contagious. He had to set down the dye bottle and use both hands to hold onto the counter as he joined in. It was beyond ridiculous, every part of this. But dammit, for the first time in a long time, he was actually having fun.

“Christ, alright,” he finally said, carefully wiping the tears from his eyes with the knuckles that were least likely to have dye on them. “You have to let me actually do this in a timely manner, otherwise it’s gonna look even worse than usual.” He gingerly tapped a finger along the part to find where he had left off and was rewarded with glob of dye on his finger when he pulled it back. What a fucking pain. The acrid smell of the chemicals was getting to be overwhelming. He regretted finishing off the bottle already.

He stopped again to roll his shoulders and stretch his neck, sighing deeply through the familiar ritual. Push the parts that hurt, see how much more they could take, carry on.

“Gerard?” Michael asked into the quiet that had settled over them.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up, still stretching his neck.

“Do you need help?”

Gerry’s attention snapped up to it. “Nah, I’ve done this forever. Just getting too old for my bullshit, I suppose.” He studied its face. No shit eating grin, no mischievous quirk of an eyebrow. Its eyes flitted through a series of barely-there pastels in an almost opalescent glow. “Besides, I don’t need you going all Scissorhands on me,” he joked gesturing at its hands folded in its lap.

It chuckled and held them up for him to see. “Mr. Scissorhands, I am not.” Like in Bristol, the fingers had lost their sharp edges, and the proportions were shockingly normal. He chewed on the inside of his lip. “Friends,” its voice caught slightly on the word. “Friends help each other, yes?”

[sarcastic-positivity]

     It was the middle of July and despite Tim’s aspirations as a kid, he did not, in fact, have a job that gave him summers off. As such, it was a miserable affair, getting to and from work. Usually Tim would be in an airy t-shirt and shorts but Jon had caught sight of his Hawaiian themed top last week and it had been a close thing to avoid being forced to go home and change. It would be a few weeks before he could get away with such a ‘blatant display of disrespect for work procedures’, as Jon put it, so here he was: sweating his ass off on the tube and praying to whatever god would listen that they’d fixed the AC at the Institute.

     God never did like Tim.

     “Christ above, does Elias want us dead or something?” Tim cried to the room at large as he dropped heavily onto his spinny chair. It was stifling. “What did we ever do to him, huh?? Did someone submit a statement about Bigfoot again?” He immediately started popping buttons on his ‘work appropriate’ shirt.

     Sasha popped her head up from her cubicle and grinned at him. Her waist-length braids had been piled sloppily on top of her head and she looked about ready to topple over from the imbalance. She’d already shed her top layer down to a simple purple tank top but she still had a sheen of sweat on her brow that had her large round glasses slipping down her nose.

     “Pretty sure it’s cause Gerry called him an old codger and compared him to the statement giver from the McGregor case last week. He’s out for revenge now.”

     Tim wrinkled his nose. “What, the stuffy one with the cane who wouldn’t shut up about how the Tories are implementing a surveillance state?”

     “The very same,” Sash confirmed, pushing her glasses back up with a hand. “Though I personally think Elias would be very pro Big Brother. Did I tell you he asked after my aunt the other week?”

     “You told Elias about Matilda’s lung cancer?”

     “That’s just it! The only person I told about that was you, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t run off to tattle to Elias.” She leaned forward in her chair conspiratorial and Tim couldn’t help but do the same. Sash was magnetic when she was like this. It had led to more than one rendezvous in their first year at the Institute. “I think he has cameras down here.”

     It wasn’t the most insane theory she’d come up with, somehow. Just two months ago she’d followed Jon home because she didn’t believe he actually had a home; she’d thought he’d been sleeping in the Institute of all places. Besides, there was that feeling of being watched that pervaded this place. Still, Tim couldn’t help but laugh.

     “I think we’d know if he had cameras, Sash. Did I tell you what he-”

     “What fresh hell is this?” The voice from the doorway was flat and scathing and Tim immediately spun in his chair to grin at the intruder.

     “Gerry!” He called happily. “I didn’t know you were coming in today!” He was wearing his signature black trenchcoat and a scowl that did things to Tim. Luckily for both of them, Tim was well guarded against Gerry’s scary-sexy goth vibe by virtue of sharing a flat with him. There were only so many times you could get a chub from simply looking at your roommate before your prick just gave up on the enterprise entirely.

     “There’s a statement I need but this is fucking ridiculous.” His voice was as deep and rough as it always was but the angry edge to it managed to send a little zing down Tim’s spine. The days that Gerry showed up at work are always so interesting. “It’s at least 10 degrees hotter in here than it is outside. The fuck is Elias thinking?”

     “Gonna rough him up for us, Ger?” Tim asked with a grin and Sasha laughed. “Stomp on him a little with those boots of yours? 10 quid says he’s into it.” Gerard shot him a look but there was a smile playing around his lips, pulling slightly at the snakebite piercings there. His makeup that day was the same as it usually was, eyeliner and three exaggerated lower lashes that made his gaze all the more intense. Thank god for the aforementioned Roommate Protection. Especially when Gerry’s eyes swept over Tim before meeting his eyes again and giving a mocking little smile. His eyes were slate grey and impossible to look away from.

     “Projecting much, Stoker?” He asked in a low tone. It was teasing and Sasha cackled but Tim’s brain stuttered and properly died. What did one say when a hot goth implied that you maybe wanted him to stomp on you with his giant sexy boots? Especially when it was true.

     “What, you wanna find out, Keay?” Tim shot back. That was good. Keep it light, let it plausibly pass for playful workplace banter – a little bit of light flirting to keep thoughts of the heat at bay. Gerry arched a brow at him, face betraying nothing but that same cool amusement. Sasha snorted and shook her head, turning back to her computer.

     “You two are ridiculous,” she told them. Tim shrugged, eyes still on Gerry, and then Jon’s office door creaked open.

     “Oh good, you’re here, Gerard.” Gerry’s eyes flicked away. “You said you needed the Anderson file?” 

     “Yeah, that’s the one,” Gerry said. He passed by Tim’s desk to take the file from Jon. Tim turned back to his desk. “By the way, your workplace is a HSE violation waiting to happen.”

     “Yes, I am quite aware,” Jon said drily. “Make sure to get that one back to me by the end of the day. And not stinking of smoke this time, Gerard. I have more notes I plan to add to it.”

     “No promises.”

・・・

     Inevitably, it was Tim who had to go hunt Gerry down at a quarter to five to get the file back. Luckily the fire exit to the left of the stairs to the archives was conspicuously propped open by an unopened carton of cigarettes and Tim pushed outside into the slightly cooler summer air.

     Gerard was lounged on the steps leading to the back alley, facing away from the door with the file open at his feet and a lit cigarette in hand. He’d tied his hair up sloppily, much like Sasha had hers, but it was so long that black sheets of it still cascaded down his bare shoulders. His trenchcoat had been completely abandoned, laid out on the step beside him, and he was left only in a crop top Tim had never seen before. It was made of a sheer grey material that matched his eyes and had no sleeves to speak of. Even worse, Gerry had a hand tucked under his shirt, shucking the top halfway up his chest. His alabaster skin shone in the dim light of the setting sun and Tim nearly took a tumble down the steps when Gerry tilted his head back to look back at him. 

     “What?” Gerry asked in a gravelly voice when he caught Tim staring. Tim opened his mouth to respond but he suddenly found himself incapable of speech. Gerry rolled his eyes and turned his head languidly back forward, lifting his cigarette to his lips. “AC’s broken inside but it’s barely any cooler out here. Don’t be a prude.”

     That surprised a laugh out of Tim. “A- A prude?!” He choked out. Never in his life had he been accused of such a thing. And this, this was so far on the opposite side of the scale he wanted to laugh. Or cry. Gerry just blew a smoke ring.

     “If you’re here for the file, it’s there.” He kicked at the manila folder at his feet and Tim could hear the wounded noise Jon would make if he were there. Right, Tim had actually come for a reason that wasn’t to ogle Gerry. Supposedly.

     “Right.” Tim cleared his throat and picked his way down the steps so as to not step on Gerry. God, did his legs have to be so long? “This thing has gotta reek by now,” he said as he bent down for the file. “Pretty sure the boss man won’t be too happy with you about that one.” He turned back and around and Gerry quickly lifted his eyes. His eyes were a warm hazy grey, much like the smoke drifting around his head.

     “Afraid of Sims then, are you?” He drawled. His piercings glinted as he grinned at Tim.

     Tim rolled his eyes and made his way back up the steps. He very pointedly kept his gaze on the ground as he did so, enticingly bare torso be damned. “Everything’s a question with you,” he said. “‘Projecting much? Afraid of Sims?’ Just call me a bottom and get on with it.”

     Gerry rasped out a chuckle right as Tim reached the top step. Tim hesitated but couldn’t help but glance back down behind him. Gerry’s head was tilted back, hair messy and top askew, and his eyes half lidded against the dying light behind Tim’s head.

     “Now where’s the fun in that?”

     He was sight to see, all stretched out and half clothed on the steps to the alley. Tim shook his head and turned back inside without another word. Gerry’s rapsing laugh followed him all the way into the archives.

     Damn tease.

SPEECHLESS. SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED AND MORE THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE HOLY SHIT IM LOSING MY MIND

[roboneco]

Who sent the email to Sam?

It was "from Jon" as Sam said, or at the very least it seemed like that. It is only a name. Could be "him". Could be fake. But why the name Jon, specifically?

First, all we know about the email is that it was sent with a name, an address, and from an internal email. The name and address being of Gerry specifically, and not of Gertrude because she's not who Sam asked for. That's it.

Here's where I got confused. Why exactly did Sam ask Gerry about the magnus institute?? From this alone, this shouldn't occur to him. Maybe he researched the name and ,as he claimed then, found a list of the kids who were there.

But...well... while Sam is competent & of course he was always obsessed with the institute after what happened to him....if he had a way to find the list himself, do you think he would have waited until someone sent him an email to go look for answers??

Of course not! He'd have already checked every single name on the list! Or at least looked for better leads than just begging people to trauma dump on him. I think someone else gave him the list. Or really the idea to ask about the list.

(I for some reason can't upload pictures so I'll settle for copy pasting the parts I want).

SAM: Right. Of course. I was wondering if you knew anything about the Magnus Institute?

SAM: I was on one of their gifted kids programs and – um – I got hold of a list of a few of the other kids, and thought it might be nice if we could get in contact, swap stories and that…

GERTRUDE: I see. Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think Gerry can help you –

GERRY: (casually) Yeah, I barely remember any of it.

SAM: Oh, so you were a candidate?

To me it sounds like Sam was winging it. He hesitated before mentioning the list as if he wasn't sure it existed. he then seems almost surprised when Gerry confirms he was in the institute.

My guess is he never saw the list! My guess is whoever sent Sam the email had heard about his connection to the institute, and sent him a lead vague enough not to cause suspicion to who may have sent it & THEN personally planted in his head the idea that the lead & institute were connected.

Now, who do we know that: knows of the name Jon, interested in the magnus institute, and Sam trusts enough to listen to their advice about something he already wanted to do?

Bingo. It is Celia. Celia is the one who sent the Jon email & I have more proof.

1- this exchange right after leaving Gerry's house:

SAM: …Thanks for coming with me, Celia. I know we’ve only been working together a few weeks.

CELIA: Hey, it was my idea, remember?

hm? Your idea you say. good to know, bestie!

2- it makes sense for her to use any name really. I don't think it matters. But we should remember that when she listened to her first case (by Chester) right after that Sam got his email. Literally in the same episode.

3- she was in a podcast with Georgie in this world (as far as Sam & google know at least) so it makes sense for her to be able to search & find the list!!

4- this is weak but well.... She works in the OIAR... She has an internal email and could make another one (or hack her way through or something).

I am sure there are other things that I just can't remember right now but anyway that leaves some questions

Why did she take the painting?

Why Gerry? I understand how she could find the list but why choose him? I doubt either Melanie or Georgie mentioned him before. Was it random? Plot reasons? Or maybe her target wasn't Gerry, but Gertrude.

She could know about Gertrude. She was the last archivist after all. But she wants a reason to go without someone suspecting her personally. So after some research (stalking) figures out she has a roommate. And hey would you look at that. The guy's name is in the list of kids experimented on by the magnus institute. And oh? Who is also on the list? Her new coworker. Now isn't that a funny coincidence! It would be a shame if someone were to.... Maybe.... Use this opportunity for totally, definitely ethical reasons.....such as sending Sam a little email & connecting him with an old friend!

I think of this because Celia is the one who asked Gerry if he lives alone. She directed the conversation to ask about Gigi.

Anyways I had maaaannny more thoughts about this. Alas, I am tired & going to bed.

Have I mentioned that Celia lives I'm my head rent free. Sorry, wanted to say it, in case it wasn't obvious.

[crochetedblorbos]

"Dying's not so bad. It's staying dead that sucks."

Character Name: Gerard “Gerry” Keay

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Voiced By: Jon Gracey

Yarn Used: Skin: CraftSmart Value - Off-White Shirt/Trousers/Shoes: Red Heart Super Saver - Black; heidi & jo iron-on applique Hair: CraftSmart Value - Curry; Tulip Colorshot Fabric Spray Paint - Black Face: Park Lane 10mm plastic eyes - hazel; Red Heart Super Saver - Black Tattoos: Red Heart Super Saver - Black

Basic pattern here.

Okay, so if I’m being honest here, this particular Gerry is 100% influenced by the version in “Awake and Unafraid” by blasphemous-lies-and-deceit, who is amazing and deserves all the love. (Not that I don’t want to hug canon!Gerry too, but holy hell.) I will also confess that I had to undo him at one point; I’d been working on him steadily for a while, and then set him aside in favor of NaNoWriMo, whereupon he promptly got swallowed up by the hellscape miasma that is my room. I finally unearthed him in a moment that can best be described as “I have discovered every single godsdamned thing I have been looking for in the last six MONTHS and also the Ark of the Covenant and Jimmy Hoffa, and yet I cannot find the one specific thing I am looking for and which I only purchased a week ago” and started working on him again. Unfortunately, I had no idea where I was in the pattern and what variants I had actually done, so I unraveled most of his torso and started over. This is why it has taken me almost a year between Hux and Gerry.

Oh, well. At least I can confidently tell you that I altered the “base” pattern as follows:

Shoes: Black combat boots, baby! Like with Mini and Hux, I kept the color the same, but otherwise the shoes are the same as before.

Trousers: I was trying to give him baggy black jeans, so I wanted them to come down over his shoes. Thus, when I got to the top of the boots, I did a round in the front loop only to give myself a little ridge, then did a round of treble crochet in the front loops of that before going back to sc for the rest of the trousers. (I think. I forgot to write this down as I was doing it and it’s been, as previously mentioned, around six months since then at time of writing.) I also wanted to give him some artistic rips in the knees, so I switched to the white I’m using for his skin and did front-loop in the black around it to give it a bit of texture and make it look like they are, in fact, torn across the knees. Deliberately or not, your call.

Shirt: I wanted Gerry to be wearing a kind of baggy, shapeless shirt, and also to be a bit taller and lankier in the torso, with a slightly longer neck. I also put him in all black because that’s how he’s always described, so I worked him the same way as Joseph (just without changing color) up until R36, and then: R37: Ch 2, hdc in each fpdc around, sl st in first hdc (38 hdc). R38-48: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (38 sc). R49: Ch 1, [sc in next 17 st, inv dec over next 2 st] twice, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R50: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R51: Ch 1, [sc in first 2 st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R52-53: Ch 1, sc around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R54: Ch 1, [sc in first st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R55: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R56: Switch to skin color. Ch 1, sc in back loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R58-59: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18sc). I also added an iron-on patch to give him a design on his shirt. (Fun fact, I bought three different patches and kept losing them before I could find my iron, which I had stupidly put away where it belonged.)

Head: I always picture Gerry as having a long, thin face and a slightly larger nose, so I followed the base pattern for his head up to what is R60 on the original pattern (but is R64 on this pattern due to previously-made changes), and then: R65-70: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). R71: Ch 3, dc in next 26 st, puff st in next st, dc in next 15 st, sl st in first dc (41dc, 1 puff stitch). R72-77: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). Continue from R72 on original pattern. Unfortunately, I didn’t stuff him as much as I should have, so his neck is kinda floppy. I’m working on a solution to that.

I also used safety eyes for the first time here! And oh my God they saved so much time. I wasn’t sure they were going to work in the package, but once I got them in his face, I liked them a lot! I embroidered a little smirk for his mouth. Used yarn this time because I finally had a yarn needle to do it with and didn’t feel like digging for my embroidery floss by the time I got to his mouth, and I like it.

Hair: Yeah, I’m a ginger!Gerry convert, what of it. Anyway, because his hair is always described as “badly dyed”, I initially considered using a variegated yarn, but couldn’t find one that would do what I wanted it to do, I decided to badly dye it myself. I wrapped a hank of yarn around a piece of cardboard, tied it off, and cut it, then spread it out on said cardboard and sprayed it with black fabric spray paint I found in the clearance aisle at Joann Fabric. And, as if it knew why I was doing it, it just…wouldn’t…take. I must’ve sprayed, rearranged, sprayed again, let dry, untangled, discovered that I’d just done the surface, resprayed, moved, and sprayed again about twelve times before I thought I’d got it. I hadn’t. Finally, I gave up and sewed the mottled orange-and-black mess onto his head (which was a headache and a half, especially since I wanted him to have a side part), discovered that it was neither as long nor as thick as it had looked before I put it on his head, debated starting over, decided not to, took him back outside, and covered his face with a paper towel, then sprayed the hair again, this time while it was already on his head. That way a) it dyed the scalp as well, and b) I could hope it stuck. (It also occurred to me that I was doing this on the front porch, right on the EDGE of the porch, and that it was, if not raining, at least very humid, and I wondered if that was affecting it, so once I’d sprayed his head down, I brought him inside and let him cure that way.) The yarn still soaked up a lot of the dye, but at least it’s more or less evenly covered…and it does, in fact, give the effect of a bad dye job, so…success?

Arms: I did Gerry’s arms the same way I did Hux’s, except that I gave him short sleeves rather than long ones. I also made them a little bit longer than normal, partly because Gerry is a little bit taller and partly because I was an idiot and wasn’t counting properly.

Trenchcoat: I may have made this slightly more complicated than necessary, but I like how it came out, so: Ch 48. R1: Dc in third ch from hook, dc in each ch across, turn (46dc). R2-5: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (46dc). R6: Ch 3, dc in first 17 st, fpdc around next st, skip next st, inv dec, dc in next 4 st, inv dec. Skip next st, fpdc around next st, dc in same st, dc in next 17 st, turn (43dc, 2 fpdc). R7: Ch 3, dc in first 18 st, bpdc around fpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec in back loops, dc in next 2 st, inv dec in back loops. Skip next st, bpdc around fpdc, dc in st behind, dc in next 18 st, turn (41dc, 2bpdc). R8: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, fpdc around bpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec twice. Skip next st, fpdc around fpdc from prev row, dc in same st, dc in next 19 st, turn (39dc, 2fpdc). R9: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, bpdc around next 2 fpdc, dc in next 19 st, turn (38dc, 2fpdc). R10: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R11: Ch 1, sc in eacn st across, turn (40sc). R12: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in each st across, turn (39sc, 1ch). R13: Ch 3, dc in first 38 st, dc in ch sp, dc in next st, turn (40dc). R14: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R15: Ch 1, sc in first 38 st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R16: Ch 3, dc in first st, dc in ch sp, dc in next 38 st, turn (40dc). R17: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R18: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next 38 st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R19: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 18 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (38dc). R20: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 16 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (36dc). R21: Ch 3, [dc in first 8 st, inv dec] three times, dc in next 3 st, turn (33dc). R22: Ch 3, dc in first 6 st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 11 st, repeat *, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 6 st, turn (23dc, 4 extended stitches, 12ch). R23: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 13 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (27hdc, 12sc). R24: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, inv dec in back loops 3 times, hdc in next 13 st, inv dec in back loops only 3 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (33hdc). R25: Ch 1, sc in first st, hdc in next st, dc in next st, tc in next st, dtc in next st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 4, inv dec in hdc 10 times, hdc in next st, ch 4, repeat *, dtc in next st, tc in next st, dc in next st, hdc in next st, sc in next st, turn (13hdc, 2sc, 2dc, 2tc, 2dtc, 2 extended stitches). R26: Sl st in first sc, sc in next 5 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next 11 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next five st, sl st. Fasten off. Sleeves: Join yarn to st in armhole. For row 1, ch 1, sc in first st (mark starting st), sc in next 19 st around, join (20sc). For rows 2-10, ch 3, dc in each st around, join (20dc). Add buttons to sc rows of front opposite ch sp if desired. (I do so desire, I just haven’t done it yet.

Tattoos: Gerry’s tattoos are embroidered on in backstitch. I only did three (one on each hand and one on the back of his neck), because I was doing it in yarn and it was way too thick for anything tinier, but what the hey, he doesn’t technically have “joints”. (The ones on his knees don’t show because the holes are sagging below the joints. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)

[emhasthoughts]

Gertrude and the cat-avatars, pt 2

Summary: Introducing distortion cats and Agnes the kitten

Warning for some mild Spiral content

A/N: This is a bit shorter than the last one, sorry about that. I also want to point out that I am not writing these in order, mainly because I don't know which order each cat arrived, I only know the first three (Simon, Peter and Elias) and that Mike is one of the latest (their intro/first part can be found here)

Again, not beta read. Just me and my google document

Lastly, thanks to @dcartcorner for helping with some parts of the au on a stream.

Pt 1, Simon, Peter, Elias and Mike / Pt 2, You're here! / Pt 3, Annabelle, Jude, Oliver / Pt 4, John, Jane, Maxwell, Manuela / Pt 5, Jon, Martin, Sasha, Tim / Pt 6, Melanie, Daisy, Basira, Georgie / Pt 7, Jared, Gerry, Nikola / Bonus, a visit to the vet / Halloween bonus!

Two of the strangest cats came together. Side by side. They acted like one as they strolled up to her door. Gertrude had not meant to let them in. She simply opened up her door to go grocery shopping and the two managed to slink in and they had not left yet. 

The two were certainly odd. At first glance nearly identical. A bit too long and tall for an ordinary cat, though both were extremely fluffy. The male, who she had named Michael once he came back after the fifth time of being thrown out, was beige, though he sometimes looked very unnaturally yellow, his eyes were blue- or green, he had spots of black, or was it just his ears? Gertrude was fairly certain the girl, Helen as she named her at the same time she named Michael, was his sister. After all, they were nearly identical. Helen was black, though she sometimes looked more grey-yellow, her eyes were blue - or green, she also had beige spots at the same place and shape as Michael, or was it her ears?

The two did not have a good relationship with Mike. Who would hiss at them any time they were in the same room. Gertrude had to pick Mike up and put him in another room far too often to avoid fights.

There was one kitten wandering the neighbourhood. Gertrude always saw her on the way to work and to her knowledge the kitten did not belong to a human. Though she was constantly surrounded by bigger cats. Nearly all of the surrounding cats were ginger, though some, like the kitten, had a bit more of a brown tone. 

It had taken her weeks to get the kitten closer by herself. Placing out some food by her door. That had just lured in more cats than she would have liked. The kitten had eventually made her way to Gertrude’s door, sitting alone for once, graceful and giving some unnatural warmth as she tilted her head. Gertrude had let her in, sat down on the sofa and the kitten, who Gertrude decided to name Agnes, decided to lay down on her lap. 

Gertrude did not mind Agnes staying in her home.