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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

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Angel of the Ink Machine, chapter 3: Ethical Slaughter

Hey guys. This isn’t the last chapter of this AU, but I’m going to take 2-3 weeks away from it to do some requests for my greatest supporters in this fandom. I do hope you enjoy this, though!

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Don’t scare her off. Don’t scare her off. Good God, Allison, just don’t scare her off.

Those were the words repeating in the heads of Joey and Allison both. Truthfully, Joey was surprised to see Susie show up to the studio at all, but there she was, emerging from Allison’s car, blonde curls bouncing as she ran up to him with the expression of an excited child on her face. Allison followed behind, the cage with the two rabbits in her hand.

“Susie. Glad you came. I assume Allison told you that we have a very special opportunity for you tonight?”

Susie forced herself to tone down her excitement to socially appropriate levels. “Yes. Thank you very much for it.”

“I told her that we would explain every step to her,” Allison said, as though Joey needed the reminder. But it didn’t matter. Clearly, Allison had done it. Susie was sold.

The three took the elevator down to the very basement. When Joey opened the door to it, it revealed the three rows of squeaking, chattering rodent cages that he and Allison had covered in tarps beforehand. Susie’s eyes went to them. “Wh-what’s that?”

“Test subjects,” Allison explained, putting a comforting hand on Susie’s shoulder. “We tested this machine until we knew it would be fairly safe. And we’re going to show you how it works now.”

Joey opened up the cage and took a big, domino-coloured rabbit out of the cage. He took it over to a tiny pentagram they’d made beforehand, which lay between two larger ones.

“To make a cartoon character, we need a soul.” Allison walked over to a small table near the pentagrams. On it were three files, a strange hand-mirror shaped object, and a knife. Susie’s heart was pounding in her chest as Allison’s hand went over the knife, but thankfully she picked up one of the files instead.

“We also need some something to tell the machine what to make them into. At first we were using film, parts of the character that weren’t shown were more likely to come out missing or mutilated. So now we use character reference sheets.” Allison took the file over to the insertion nozzle and spilled its contents into it.

“Here’s how we get the soul.”

Joey and Allison began to chant in Latin as Joey took the knife from the table and slit the rabbit’s throat. They had to continue chanting for several minutes as the rabbit bled out, squirming as Joey held it down. The squealing of the ex-rodents in the covered cages, remembering their own sacrifices, was deafening. Finally, the rabbit died, and Allison picked up the strange hand-mirror-like object and appeared to pluck something out of the air. She added it to the insertion nozzle, and Joey pulled the switch for the machine.

“Now, we just have to wait a few minutes.”

Susie looked horrified, but she nodded in understanding. A few minutes later, a five-legged but otherwise perfect Edgar fell out of the machine. In a very rabbit-like way, it looked around, cleaned its face off with its front paws, and tried to hop on its strange new legs.

“Is…is it harmed?” Susie asked.

“Of course not!” Joey said. “It’s right as rain.” There was nothing to suggest that it wasn’t.

“And you want me to do that? Why not just use an animal?” The shock in her eyes wasn’t promising.

“An animal won’t work,” Allison explained, “The toons will only have the level of consciousness that the soul used for them had. As for doing you, well, we’ll both be doing it. Joey needed me to show dedication to the project. We figured that this was the best way. Don’t worry- you’ll be the only real Alice Angel- made from her character sheets and all that.”

Joey smiled and put his hand around Allison’s waist. “I was up all night drawing her at every angle for this- with a few modifications. She won’t be soft or warm anymore, but I think we made her beautiful enough to make up for it. And she won’t age- I’ll have a flawless trophy wife until the day I die, and she’ll be healthy, too. It’s an excellent deal, really. So, what do you say? Are you ready to achieve fame as the world’s first ever living cartoon?”

Susie looked up at them. “I’ll do it.”

“Alright,” Joey said, and he and Allison sacrificed her just as they had done the rabbit. The only differences were that they’d tied her up first, as she would have been somewhat harder to restrain, and that Allison had tried to comfort her, stroking her arm as Susie bled out to the sound of Latin chants.

As the machine worked its magic on her soul, Joey turned to Allison. “Ready, my love?”

Allison met his gaze. “I’m ready.”

There was no need to clean the knife- her old body was soon to be useless, so infecting it with the blood of others was fine. She bit down as he slit her throat and laid her gently on the pentagram. Bleeding out was painful. In the moment it didn’t matter that it was temporary.

Once she was dead, Joey could finally stop chanting. There was nothing to do but add Allison’s soul into the insertion nozzle along with the pictures he’d drawn, pull the switch, and wait.

Despite being the last one inserted, Allison was the first one out, tumbling face-first onto the ground. Joey ran to help her up, see if she’d come out as he’d hoped. Then she saw it- the splattered mess of her skirt.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, quickly feeling herself over for flaws. “Did I come out okay? How bad’s the damage, Joey?”

“Calm down. You’re fine. You’re beautiful.”

She was. For the purposes of being Joey’s trophy wife, she entirely suitable, with little damage outside of the dress, the splattered clay-like ink on her arms, legs and neck, and her horns and halo sitting a little askew. The former could be fixed with a little scrapping and paint. Of course, the unspoken part of that was that Susie was not intended to be a trophy wife- she was intended to be a living cartoon character, and such flaws as Allison had would be less forgivable. The two waited in silent bated breath for another five minutes as the machine churned and chugged. Finally, a black and white cartoon emerged from the machine, not looking splattered as Allison did, but clean and pure. Allison went over and took Susie’s gloved hand. She looked at her with new glossy pie-cut eyes, little butterfly eyelashes attached. Allison clasped a hand over her mouth. She could have cried.

“What is it?” Susie asked.

“Joey, come here. She’s absolutely perfect.”

Joey joined her. “Oh my God. Allison, we did it!”

Susie was ecstatic. Joey and Allison felt like proud parents. After they dropped Susie off at home, Joey and Allison had to return to the studio to dispose of the corpses. While it wasn’t a pleasant job, it gave Joey an opportunity to take in his other masterpiece, now that Susie was taken care of.

Allison’s new, permanent body had been a work of compromise. She’d wanted it to be practical as well as beautiful. It had a bit more muscle on the arms and legs than the old one, and the hair was tied back so that she wouldn’t have a solid, clay-like chunk getting in her way. She’d chosen a very short, sleeveless dress since she knew that she’d never be able to take it off and wanted the ability to wear things over it. Joey had allowed all of that. He’d also edited out some of her physical flaws- cleaned off her freckles, made her waist smaller and so on- and had insisted on the horns and halo. Everything in this relationship required compromise, but as they embalmed her corpse, he was reminded of everything she’d been willing to give for him. She’d never not have the horns and halo of one of his characters now. She had agreed to become his.

After they were finished, they spent the night together in Allison’s house. Though she was confused as to why it was unlocked, she didn’t suspect for a moment that Joey had broken into it. For a moment, all was well.

And then, mere days later, the consequences hit home.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey x allison #joey drew #allison pendle #susie campbell #alice angel #my fanfiction #Aus #Angel of the Ink Machine AU

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notactiveanymorebestie · 3 years

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Finley’s Fnaf Lore (1960(?)-1985)

TW - Child death, murder, su!c!d3, just a lot of really creepy and horrifying stuff. Don’t read if you’re easily disturbed, please.

So it starts off with William Afton meeting Henry Emily in high school. They both discover they have a love for robots and building. They start to work together and create their first creation, Prototype Fredbear. They end up losing connection for awhile, each having their own family. William marries a very nice and beautiful woman who is a ballerina. She is named Elizabeth, which they do name one of their twins. Henry marries a softhearted yet determined woman named Clara, who starred in a soap opera! (heheh).

William and Elizabeth have Michael, and Henry and Clara have Sammy. William and Henry reconnect and Mike and Sam grow up together as best friends. Meanwhile, Fredbear’s opens, and it’s the biggest thing in all of Hurricane Utah. Fredbear and SpringBonnie are loved so much, and the Puppet is added after Sammy designed him.

William eventually comes out that him and Eliza are having twins, and Henry and Clara are so happy for them. The twins were named Elizabeth and Cassidy. They grew up loving plushies. Years later... Cassidy and Lizzy have grown and Michael is 14, Henry and Clara have their baby girl, Charlie Emily... William is happy, but jealous. He wanted his children to stay small and pure forever...

He starts to work on a solo project, Circus Baby’s Pizza World! He designs Baby after Elizabeth, Funtime Freddy after Michael, Lolbit after Cassidy, Funtime Foxy after himself, Ballora after his wife, and Funtime Chica after Clara, who he had... a strange obsession with, to say the least...

It opens in 1982, and Elizabeth is ecstatic. She loves Baby, but her father refuses to let her go see them. But he had a reason... This solo project was to see if he could keep children young and precious, by killing them and keeping them in these robots... He didn’t want his little girl to get hurt.

He leaves to talk to a parent, who’s twins have gone missing, Rose and David, and leaves Mike and Cass to stay with Lizzy. Michael and Cass were very close at the time, so they got distracted with their dumb stories. Lizzy runs off to see Baby, but while reaching for the ice cream that was served by CB, another scooper like design shoots out and grabs her. She screams and Mike rushes to try and get her. However, he misses, and Lizzy is forever trapped inside Circus Baby. William is heartbroken.

His baby, his sweet little girl... gone forever.. He decides to close down the place. This is due to three children, four including Lizzy, going missing inside the restaurant...

They are stuck there for years.

Michael and Cassidy’s relationship starts to break as William becomes harsher and their mother more distanced. The Emilys are doing great, though. Of course they are, they ALWAYS are.

Will and Henry decide to add Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Balloon Boy, JJ, and DeeDee. They are finished by the end of 1982, beginning the new year.

Oh! I know who I forgot to mention, Fritz. He was a taller ginger haired boy with green eyes. He was close to Cassidy and Lizzy, their best friend. After Liz’s death, he is forced to stay away from Cassidy for awhile. Michael goes through his own thing and forms a groups. Jeremy, Sammy, and Bella. They each wear masks, to take their anger and fear out on poor little Cassidy, who is tormented by animatronics after watching his own twin sister die inside one. This causes his to have nightmares every night, and traumatized him further.. Him and Fritz reconnect in the summer, and the ginger is the only one to arrive at the birthday party.

Cassidy had also been having visions of gore and terror after the nightmares. He wasn’t sure what they were at the time, so he ignored them. The day of his party was going to be great. Just him, Fritz, his momma and papa, and his Fredbear plushie. He had no idea Mike and his friends would be there. He tried to stay away from them.. He had no idea this would be his last birthday. Cassidy and Fritz were playing Fruity Maze, but only Cassidy heard his mother call for them. He ran off to get the pizza, while Fritz stayed in obliviousness. Cassidy found Mike and the others there. Unfortunately for him, his mother had already went to find Fritz. Michael and his friends pulled poor Cassy away, just leaving Fredbear Plush on the ground. Eliza and Fritz were startled by the screaming and crying. Fritz, being athletic and fast, ran across the entire diner to find Cassidy. He only saw what was left of the incident.

Absolutely horrified, Fritz grabbed the Fredbear plushies and ran home. He was never the same.

... William had it. He was done. He had to save his little boy. He tried and tried, but nothing really worked... He got frustrated and left his body at Fredbear’s, right next to the Fredbear animatronic. The remnant of Cass’s soul ended up creating another, fake version of Fredbear, which Cass deemed to be named Goldie, as a body. He woke up scared and alone, and wanted to just go home. He only had Fredbear and Spring, who could feel human emotion. The others couldnt, but at least he had two friends.

1984, a year after Cassidy’s death rolled around. That meant it marked the death day of both Cassidy and Eliza, who k!ll3d herself out of grief from her children dying. Of course, William blamed this on himself and Mike, taking his anger out by either yelling at Michael or just leaving for hours. Mike started to design animatronics himself to seek approval from his father, which eventually worked. However, it was Charlie’s birthday. Henry and Clara were extremely happy to see their little girl growing up, and Sammy was too (though he was never the same after what happened to his best friend’s little brother)

It was the night William made the biggest decision in his life.

Springbonnie was his prized creation, and she looked up to him like a god. He used her as a pawn to lure Charlie outside and lock her in the rain while he got to the car and drove to the front. Charlie tried to get in, and Puppet (her favorite) searched for the little 3 year old desperately... Charlie was losing hope until she saw Uncle Will’s car. She beamed with excitement, going to him. He told her they could get in the back... that was a lie.

Charlie was found dead an hour later with Puppet next to her.

1985, the year of misery and mystery. Four children, each of them never found. William had friends who had a little girl, named Susie. The Aftons also had a dog named Marigold who had recently had puppies. The entire litter except for one died, and that one was given to Susie. She was so happy, she named him Cookie. He was a golden puppy with one black ear.

There was another family, and they had no connection to Will. They had a little boy named Jeremy. he was the shyest kid in the class, but the smartest. No one knows how he befriended the most popular girl.

The final children... Gabriel. A sweet kid who was the leader of the group. It was Susie, Jeremy, and him against the world.. and occasionally his cousin... Fritz.

A few months after Susie had gotten Cookie, they took him to see Marigold. Cookie, scared of Will, ran away. Susie and her family/friends couldn’t find him and eventually gave up.

Driving home one night, William accidentally hit something. Getting out of the car, he realized it was the poor puppy. He didn’t really care, he just laughed and drove off. Problem was, Gabriel’s birthday was that morning. And the pup’s body was found outside the diner, mangled, by Susie. She, however, stayed strong and went to Gabe’s birthday anyways. The biggest mistake of her life. And the last, too.

Fritz had always hated animatronics since his best friend died. He hated the diner... but he liked Foxy a little. He was only there for Gabe and his friends.

The fear that filled him when Susie suddenly went missing. She was last seen crying by Fruity Maze.

Meanwhile, two familiar children were panicking. A golden bear, and a long strange marionette. Only one was visible to the children, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them to not follow the golden bunny. She didn’t know Cassidy was an afton, he was just Goldie to her. To Charlie, that is. They watched as another child was lead away.

Poor little Jeremy, he only wanted the Bonnie plush from the claw machine. He ran out of money, but a nice green eyed rabbit offered her money to him. He just had to follow her.

Gabriel and Fritz decided to go and look for them. Cassidy froze in fear. Anyone but him, anyone but his best friend.

The two dead children could only watch as the two were stolen away. Gabriel was convinced because this rabbit said she knew where their friends were. Fritz didn’t go, until the rabbit whispered that she could show him Cassidy once more. That convinced him. When they got to the backroom, all they saw were Susie and Jeremy. Dead, bloody, no more.

Gabriel tried to scream, but was snatched up by Will in the Spring suit. Fritz went to run away to tell someone, but William threatened to kill Gabriel if he told. He said he would leave them if Fritz gave up. The 12 year old, however, refused. He grabbed a wrench, charging at the rabbit. William immediately killed Gabriel, dropping him and grabbed Fritz, cutting off the hand that the wrench was in, which also costed the child his eye.

Everything was a blur for them for what seemed like hours.

Fritz woke up to a red eyed crocodile, and golden bear, and Puppet staring at him. He noticed his friends were there too, each with a mask of an animatronic on their face. He looked back and was handed a Foxy mask.

“Is this for me?”

“Yes, put it on, and you will be given your second chance.”

He woke up once more in a strange body. He felt cold and afraid, but he saw the golden bear in front of him again.

“Hello, Fritz, I am Goldie. I’m happy to meet you.”

“Where am I?!”

“Your new body.”

It was at that moment, Fritz realized he was no longer human. He started at his new metallic hands, but he was not scared. He was worried about the others, the younger children he had seen.

The fox took his first run in the new body. He found them by Puppet, and was followed by Goldie. The three of them were broken down, letting out terrified wails.

Oh... this was all his fault. From that day on, he dedicated himself to keep the others safe with Puppet and Cassidy.

#finsfnaf #long lore post #fnaf lore post #golden memories (fnaf au)#//tw suicide #//tw child murder #//tw child death

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knives-and-lint · 5 years

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you distract me

It's a cold, gray Saturday.

Sabrina sits with legs crossed on her bed, old leather bound book in hand, listening to the sounds of raindrops hitting the windowsill rather than reading. Her eyes stray toward the glass, clouds dark and endless outside, as she reaches for her phone to queue up a little mood music.

The guitar strumming causes all three Sisters to look up at her, collected in this room, for the pretense of studying for final exams at the end the school term. None of them question her choice, or offer opinion on the music, which honestly is a bit surprising. Especially from Prudence, who offers commentary on nearly everything she does.

By the time the second song begins, she's managed to read a whole paragraph, this ancient collection of hexes so extraordinarily dull focusing on the words causes her eyes to blur. Still, she forges on not wanting to get less than stellar marks, but the third song begins to play and she's pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

Throwing her legs over the edge of the mattress, she shifts the book back into her lap, forcing herself to absorb the information within but nothing seems to take. Instead she looks back to the window, letting the music fill her ears, while the eyes focus out on the rain.

The entirety of the fourth song happens with a page held between her fingers, thinking of how Susie was obsessed with this album last summer, how it was insisted upon that both she and Roz download it. Sabrina had thought the harrowing melodies were quite striking, but it wasn't really to Roz's liking, and truth be told Sabrina hasn't listened to it for quite some time. The words still resonate in her mind however, recalling most of them with a remarkable accuracy.

When the fifth song begins she rises to her feet, circumventing the bed, and stopping in front of Dorcas to offer out her hand. The redhead looks up at her curiously, then shoots a quick glance at her Sisters, but Sabrina doesn't wait for them to give any kind of permission before pulling the girl to her feet.

Sabrina guides her to the middle of the floor, arms sliding behind Dorcas' back as she pulls close, and leads them in slow spinning circles with the song. Head falling to Dorcas' shoulder, Sabrina hums along, smiling at the grin it causes in her partner.

“What is this music?” Dorcas asks softly.

“Something my friend Susie loves,” Sabrina replies. “Felt very appropriate with the weather.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Almost haunting, but... Pretty.”

Sabrina presses a kiss against the girl's collarbone.

“Like you.”

That grin stretches into a smile, and Sabrina is quite proud of herself, when Agatha clears her throat just behind them.

“May I cut in?” she asks.

Sabrina lifts her head, nodding in agreement, but is genuinely surprised when Agatha slips into her arms rather than Dorcas. A bit taller than the other girl, Sabrina can't quite rest her head on Agatha's shoulder, and keeps it upright instead with their eyes locked together.

“You chose Dorcas first,” Agatha comments.

Not me, not Prudence is implied but unspoken. Sabrina realizes it's rare for anyone besides Agatha herself to choose Dorcas first.

“Out of the three of you,” Sabrina begins. “I knew she wouldn't question my intentions. That she'd play along.”

Agatha smiles, warm and genuine, surprising Sabrina yet again when no jealousy manifests itself.

“Do you like the song?” Sabrina asks.

Agatha nods.

“Very somber,” she comments. “Very nice.”

Sabrina pulls on Agatha's hand to press a kiss upon the back of it.

“Like you,” she offers.

Prudence clears her throat behind them, Agatha dropping Sabrina's hands almost immediately and giving up her spot. A sharp breath inhaled, when Prudence presses so close, Sabrina thinks she's going to be kissed then and there. Disappointment when she isn't, but Prudence takes the lead, pulling back and twirling Sabrina in place.

“We're supposed to be studying,” Prudence chides quietly.

Sabrina ignores the admonishment, guiding their bodies back together, head tilting so that her lips tease along Prudence's ear.

Now I'll love you, always. She sings. Even when I say, you distract me.

Prudence's hands tighten of their own accord, knowing they're only lyrics, but the sentiment still strikes her.

“Simple poetry,” she detracts. “Prosaic and dull.”

Sabrina smirks.

“Then why are you dancing to it?”

Prudence twirls her again, and pulls back with a force that makes Sabrina gasp.

“As if I was going to stand idly by while my Sisters got their turn,” she informs.

“Why Prudence,” Sabrina teases. “Don't be jealous.”

Now Prudence's lips hover along Sabrina's ear.

“Simply taking my place,” she informs. “As you do. With us.”

Sabrina presses a kiss to Prudence's neck.

“Do you even like the song?”

Prudence smirks.

“I enjoy your enjoyment. And that of my Sisters. That you make them feel as special as we all know you are.”

Sabrina nods, and her eyes fall closed, when a kiss is pressed to her cheek.

“Sing me the rest,” Prudence requests.

And I'll love you, always. When we leave this place...

Sabrina feels Agatha and Dorcas press against her from behind, Prudence's lips claiming hers, as the song inevitably ends.

Listen.

#caos #spellnight #weirdspell #sabrina and the weird sisters #drabble

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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years

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I find myself once again asking for another chapter of As Yet Unread. It really is a compelling read. I am fascinated by it. And in advance of my request...a simple please and thank you for your consideration and regard.

Here you go, lovely one. I hope this makes up for the wait

Claire placed both of her feet flat on the floor as she pushed herself up from the bed. It had only been twenty-four hours since she’d had the cast taken off and she was still struggling, hobbling around the flat as if the plaster still held her hostage. Though it wasn’t the slight muscle damage that caused it, it was more akin to a phantom injury that halted her recovery.

Dr Gowan had made her promise that she’d leave the house and not keep herself hidden away. She’d agreed to it yesterday and Jamie had offered to give her some lessons in wood masonry if she felt able later down the line. Claire didn’t like breaking her promise to Ned, and even though it had only been a day she itched to break free. Though something stopped her from accepting Jamie’s offer straight off the bat. The same invisible force that made the back of her leg ache with increased furor the more she thought about moving on it.

As if on cue, the phone rang. Jamie had been calling everyday from his van and even now, in the wake of her cast removal, it seemed he would continue to do the same. Claire liked it best when it was raining and she could hear the pitter patter of water droplets on the roof of his van as he spoke to her. There was something very soothing about it. That and the soft tenor of Jamie’s voice - it kept her sane.

“Hi Jamie.” She said, the fingers of her free and tapping against the side of the metal bed as she waited for him to speak down the phone.

“Hello sassenach,” he replied, a happy lilt to his voice as he audibly sipped tea on the other end of the phone, “I just thought I’d call to see how ye were holding up today, first day of freedom and all!”

He sounded chirpy and the happiness in his tone made her smile as she cradled the phone closer to her cheek. Jamie had finally managed to unlock his old phone, add a new sim card and update Claire’s details onto it so that she had her own access to him, Murtagh, Suzette and his family should she need it. It also had wifi access which meant that she could sit and watch online videos from bed if she wasn’t feeling up to moving far though Jamie was wary about giving her a television in there with Netflix on in case she never came out again.

“Are you on your lunch already?” She asked as he began chewing on something that was potentially the sandwiches she’d made him the night before. “It’s only eleven AM, Jamie!” She said faux-offended by his choice of meal time.

“Nah,” he mumbled around his food, “just having a wee break wi’ a biscuit before we get back to the hardcore stuff.”

“A heavy lifting day, huh?”

“Ach, always, Claire. Only Murtagh is a grumpy arse because I didna bring the nice biscuits, you ken the ones…wi’ the chocolate on?”

“Which did you take then?” She asked, perplexed.

“The plain digestives.” He said sounding fairly ashamed of his decision.

She could hear Murtagh muttering in the background and it made her laugh. “Sounds like you might not be so daft in the future, Jamie. You have to keep your uncle happy else he might just up and leave you for a better offer.” She quipped as she tapped her bare toes on the carpet, experimenting with the feel of the soft material beneath her feet.

“Aye, he’s already putting together a tribunal. He thinks this is poor working conditions or something similar. He says ye’d agree wi’ him.” He laughed, the echo of it making the tension seep from her bones as she stood confidently and took a couple of steps towards the door.

“I would! It’s downright disgraceful, James Fraser. You’d better get your house in order.”

“Och, aye, I should. And wi’ that I’d better get back to misery guts and get the wood cut fer the next half of the room. Get yerself some lunch, sassenach and dinna forget where we are if ye need anything else.”

“Will you be late tonight?” She asked cautiously, her hand hovering over the bedroom door handle.

“Probably, lass. The more we get done today while we have the light, the earlier we can move onto the next room. If we finish early there’s a bonus in it for us, aye? A nice one.”

“So I shouldn’t make something for dinner then?”

“Dinner? Ah. What would ye make?” He questioned, intrigued. Whilst Claire had her cast on she’d been pretty much bed and settee-bound; and although she had helped out as much as she was able the most she’d done in the kitchen was make a couple of rounds of toast. Mostly, Jamie had just carried on as normal, making his own brand of sustenance. While he knew she probably had far superior skills in food preparation, he hadn’t ever assumed she might cook for him once she was more mobile.

“Well, you have enough for me to make us spaghetti bolognaise. Or I could do a shepherds pie. You have some nice mince in and some sauce. I’d just need some basic herbs to add and some tomatoes.”

“I can drop into Tesco on the way home. Ye just tell me what else ye need and I’ll bring it for you.”

“Oh! I found tomatoes,” Claire exclaimed. Having found herself in the kitchen she had begun to root around looking for the key ingredients that she needed, “I could marinate the mince, once it’s soaked up the flavours of the tomato it’ll make a much nicer sauce. Then we can have bolognaise. Do you just fancy grabbing a baguette and some garlic cloves. I’ll make some homemade garlic bread to go with it?”

Thrilled by the prospect of being useful once more, Claire began to put everything she needed on the side whilst Jamie chuckled and replied. “Aye, I can do that. Just text me else I’ll forget all of that by the time I’m finished here.”

“Alright! Excellent. See you later, Jamie. Have a good rest of your day.”

Claire waited for him to reply and ring off before she got to work preparing the base sauce she needed and when she was done she placed the pre-cooked mince in her own tomato base sauce and folded it all together. Beneath the sink she had also found a dusty old slowcooker buried behind some other oddments that had Jenny Fraser Murray’s name written all over them. None of them had been used and Claire thought it pivotal that she christen at least a few of the items she’d recently unearthed.

With the timer set, Claire rinsed the dirty pots and placed them carefully in the dishwasher.

Looking at the clock she noticed that it was barely past one as she perched on the ‘L’ shaped corner sofa. She was restless. Her fingers itching to keep working but the house was basically spotless. Jamie hired a cleaner to come in once a week and it meant that Claire had nothing to keep her occupied.

Closing her eyes she measured the steady beat of her heart as the sun rose high enough in the sky to shine in through the large lounge window. It warmed her face and she basked in it for a moment before setting her mind to the task ahead.

She had promised a number of people that she wouldn’t allow herself to build another prison in Jamie’s flat, and although it had barely been a day since those hard conversations Claire felt ready to battle her demons. She needed a few various ingredients from the shops and she didn’t want Jamie to have to go out of his way after a long day at work just to pick up bread and garlic.

She put her shoes on quickly, tying the laces tight and grabbing her coat as she quickly limped towards the front door, keys in hand and shopping bags neatly stashed in her pocket. Forgoing the lift, Claire opted for the stairs although she still felt a little shaky but the more she waited around the more likely it was that she’d chicken out and go scuttling back into the flat with her tail between her legs.

The moment the fresh air hit her face Claire felt soothed. It was clean, cool but refreshing as she took her first solo steps into the world. It was hard for her to believe that, though she’d left the flat to meet Susie with Fergus in those early days, for the rest of her time she’d been hiding herself away like a porcelain doll. Taking her first slow steps she made sure to keep the building in sight should she need it but before long she was content and settled in her decision.

Ned had told her to explore and Jamie had encouraged it. Claire wasn’t a coward and she knew it was the right time to gather her courage.

The walk to Tesco wasn’t a bad one. She had researched the route thoroughly enough that she knew where the large supermarket was in relation to the apartment. Having forgotten her Glasgow metro pass, she had been forced to walk the whole way and it was only when she stepped closer to the illuminated blue entrance to the supermarket did she realise that she’d left her phone there too.

“Oh…” she sighed under her breath, placing her hand on her pocket where the small visa card Jamie had given her lay. She still had the keys and her shopping bags, but no cash, no metro card and no phone to contact Jamie if she needed it. Suddenly her brave act seemed foolhardy and daft.

Tesco hummed with life, the car park was filled with large 4X4 cars, sedans and hatchbacks, and the crush outside the store made Claire feel small and insignificant. Even the sliding doors seemed to tease her as she took one nervous step backwards. Pulling her coat around her neck, she jiggled her still healing leg as she internally bantered with herself on what to do next.

“Miss?” A man in the recognisable uniform said, reaching out his hand as if to snap her out of her agitated stupor. “Are ye alright? Can I help you?”

“I’m f-fine, thank you.” she stammered sounding far from alright. Waving her hands, she took one step to the side, bringing herself free from the confused gaze of the guy who’d interrupted her mid panic attack.

Taking one further step backwards, Claire tried to smile but the forced lift of her mouth obviously made her look even more afraid as he scrunched his brow in confusion and opened his mouth as if to speak again.

“Sorry.” Claire managed to blurt out as she turned on her heel and hobbled off. Her head was fuzzy, the haze of the fright she’d given herself clouding her judgement as she headed in an unfamiliar direction. The heat of the sun had dissipated from the air leaving her chilly. She didn’t have a watch and there was nothing around her to signify the time and as she rounded another unknown street she began to fret. The moisture that gathered in her eyes misted her vision and the cars that were flying passed her wafted her hair around her face so that she couldn’t reorient herself.

Dragging in more and more ragged breaths, Claire tried to slow her heart rate as she quickened her pace. Her leg ached, the increased movement causing the scars that ran down it to itch madly beneath her trousers.

A few pedestrians loitered, watching her carefully as she walked by them, her chin wobbling as she tried to contain the tears she desperately wanted to shed - but nobody approached her for which she was grateful. Even if she could talk to any of them, she didn’t know the exact address she needed - not now with her brain struggling to make head nor tail of her location - and she didn’t know either Jamie or Murtagh’s phone number.

It wasn’t until the clouds started to darken that she let the hopelessness seep into her skin, the damp, fragile grasp on her sanity shattering as the soft splashes of rain fell onto her thin raincoat. Sunset was coming and she had no clue how to find her way home or how to contact Jamie. Her teeth chattered noisily, her jaw throbbing as she tried to curtail her sobs.

With blurred vision, a sore chest and shaking shoulders, Claire limped to the nearest bench and collapsed onto the sodden wood, her trousers soaking up the moisture from the moist beams as she curled herself up into a small ball in order to keep warm.

“Foolish.” She mumbled, the hair covering her face as she buried her nose against her knees and took a few long, deep breaths.

She was so exhausted that she almost didn’t hear the call of her own name through the fog, but the distinct French accent pulled her from her temporary bubble and she wiped her eyes as she looked up to see Suzette with Fergus clutched against her chest rushing steadily towards her.

“Claire!” She repeated, this time with more relief in her tone. “Jamie is beside himself. Where have you been?”

“To Tesco.” She answered lamely, her voice cracking as she peeled her legs away from her chest and sat up straight.

“It’s alright, love,” Suzette said, turning to look at Claire’s tear streaked face as she spoke down the phone, “she’s here, in the park around the corner from ours - I forget its name.” During the pause in her talking, Susie leaned into Claire, letting her shoulder connect for a moment in a quiet show of solidarity. “Yes. Of course,” she continued, pausing a couple more times to let whoever she was talking to (probably Murtagh, Claire thought) speak too, “we’ll wait here. Fergus is fine. He’s settled. Don’t worry. Love you too.”

“I take it you never made it into the store.” Suzette began once she’d hung up the phone. “Since you still have your shopping bags but nothing inside them.” The way she spoke made Claire feel less daft. Susie was friendly and motherly whilst never being condescending or callous. She truly cared and was making a concerted effort calm Claire’s frayed nerves as they waited.

“No.” Claire sighed loudly. “I couldn’t. Silly really.”

“Not at all, Claire. It’s loud and busy in there. I hate it. Fergus certainly doesn’t care for it. I think the bright neon lights hurt his eyes too.”

“Is Jamie mad?” Claire asked, feeling more than a little ridiculous for leaving the flat without her phone.

“Mad with worry perhaps,” Susie said kindly, “but not angry, no.”

“I came out without my phone,” Claire sighed, “and once I’d reached the shop I felt this crushing sense of failure when I couldn’t just…go in!” She cursed through clenched teeth. “Then I panicked. I couldn’t remember the way home and I had no way to contact anyone. I just didn’t want Jamie to have to run around after me when he’d been at work all day long. I was trying not to be a nuisance and then…” she trailed off sounding incredibly disappointed with herself.

“Yer no’ a nuisance, Claire…” The sound of Jamie’s voice broke through the dim grey of the evening as night truly set in. “And ye never will be.”

Claire’s heart stopped for one moment as she felt him hovering over her and her head tipped to the side as she breathing in one large breath and turned to face him. “Apart from the times when I disappear without leaving a note.” She joked, a large lump forming in her throat as she saw the worry colouring Jamie’s face. He was pale, whiter than she’d ever seen him and she instantly felt bad for making light of the situation.

“Aye, weel,” he said, the stress of the evening showing on his face more clearly now as he held out his hand to help her stand, “Murtagh is waiting and I should probably get ye home.”

Claire kept quiet on the drive home. Murtagh and Suzette bantered about an upcoming trip they had planned and Jamie sat stoically next to Claire, his hand holding gently onto hers as if he were afraid she wouldn’t make it home if he let her go. The warmth of his skin soothed her and she closed her eyes and relaxed against the window, watching the world pass by through the fog her breath created against the glass. Glasgow came and went, the obscured view making it look blurred as the car slowed when it reached Jamie’s flat.

“I thought he’d taken you…” Jamie whispered as they entered his home, the heat of the apartment hitting them both as they stopped dead in the entrance to the lounge, “I didna ken how, but I when I came home to find ye gone wi’ yer phone left here, I thought he’d come back and taken ye.”

“I’m so s-sorry, Jamie,” Claire sobbed, breaking down as the full brunt force of his shaky words hit her solidly in the chest, “I th-thought…”

“Hush, sassenach,” Jamie soothed, instantly taking her against his chest as he rocked her to and fro, one hand resting softly against her smooth curls and one on her lower back, “ye dinna need to be sorry, please. I ken how much ye’ve been through and I dinna want you to think yer stuck here, or that ye have to leave. You just have to do things in yer own time, aye? Dinna rush to do one or the other…”

He paused for just one moment as the timer on the slow cooker beeped quietly in the kitchen.

“…just take yer phone wi’ ye next time, so I dinna have a heart attack when I come home to find you missing.”

#;Mod MBD #As Yet Unread #jamie x claire

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emmelfish · 6 years

Text

So, it looks like the roaring success of a wedding party added to Brandi’s reputation. You sure you don’t wanna roundhouse kick your BFF Dina there for smooching your firstborn son?

(John Burb – lover of drama, sitter of fences, gossip extraordinaire and never met a dirty joke he doesn’t like – glides by without a word but a mental note to regale his wife with all the sordid details.)

I still don’t know which of the two of them initiated that, but I guess this is what happens when you combine cute blond Fortune sims, one of whom has recently reached an... eligible age?... and our old friend ACR.

youtube

Darren had at least five of those six beers, so this doesn’t surprise me in the least. Dreamer, I’m cutting you off!

Time to celebrate the transition of the terrible twins, the perfect ending to this... interesting wedding.

Growing up next to a rain puddle, is it everything you ever dreamed of Skip Jr?

Sadly, it’s also time to say goodbye to the Mortimer Goth cosplay and the buzzcut...

... and hello to... this! I’m pretty sure given he’s Sloppy and Playful, SJ’ll be a Nature sim, so it’s not even like this is hobby-appropriate costuming (it’d be better for his sister, she’s bound to be Sports or Fitness with her personality points).

There’s something so ritualistic about the way they stand around cheering somebody aging, I love it. It’s even better in weddingwear.

I’m also a big fan of how different Skip Jr looks to his older brothers. And this genetic correctness! I’m not sure how we ever put up with the gender-reversed Brandi clone EAxis stuck in the vanilla game. THANK YOU @meetmetotheriver 💟

I’m excited that he grew up well, but scared of what kind of child he’ll be. Nowhere near as terrified as I am re: Suse though.

Darren finally told one dirty joke too many? And in front of A CHILD?! No wonder he and John Burb get along so well.

Beau: Hey I’m gonna be a teenager in like a day, I can take it.

We’ll be the judge of that.

Oh god, I don’t know if I even really want to do this, but here we go.

Yo Bran, when did you change into your afterparty gear? (Seriously, I had no idea she had that maternity formalwear lurking in her wardrobe.)

Susie: *stares at fire* Yes, yes, consume the souls of my nemeses...

Skip Jr: Uh, Mr Dad, I think you’re supposed to put her down.

Beau: This is gold.

Skip Jr: Seriously DreamerDaddy, I really think she’s meant to be on the floor...?

Skip Jr: I can’t watch.

(Legitimately though, at this point I was hiding from the screen and peeping through my fingers to take these screenshots. I love a good glitch, but this was beyond terrifying.)

OH MY GOD.

THEY’VE MERGED INTO SOME KIND OF MONSTER.

Oh thank heavens. I just had Darren do the ‘put Susie here’ action and while her arms did get stuck like this for a while, everything went back to normal and she was a child and not some warped giant baby. Good bloody lord! Darren, had you forgotten how to transition a toddler? Dirk’s not that old!

Hey Suse, you’d better not be hunting bugs just to set fire to them.

Susie: Well I won’t be setting fire to anything if my stupid jar stays this empty.

While I’m kind of loving Susie’s blazer and jeans, gotta get those twins into the colors they were in as tots. It’s my rule! (When feasible.)

Yeah we get it guys, you love each other because you’re both pretty awful. Had enough of this yet Beau?

Beau: Urgh. I’m disappearing into a place where I can control everything, thank you very much. This here dollhouse.

That sounds like a strangely familiar concept.

Ah, back to some semblance of a (relatively) normal life! Skip Jr’s already making good use of those Playful Grouchy traits by beating Beau to death with a pillow, and Susie’s slyly charming her way into an older brother’s affections just as she did with Dustin.

This loading screen will look rather different... imminently. Room for two more?

Oh yeah! Remember Dustin’s strange schoolfriend who marched brazenly into the Broke trailer and randomly picked up and snuggled the twins when they were but babes? Skip Jr clearly does, and now that he can articulate this experience, is telling Beau just how traumatic it was.

Back to plate-making, you! Yes I know you want a vacay, and you’ll get one when you sell several more of these. Also what’s that ‘get caught cheating’ fear? Why is cheating even crossing your mind? You literally just got married and it upped your chem with Daz by one whole bolt – three is the magic number, don’t mess with perfection!

With Susie being an active-grouchy sports lover, I got her a nice Goal of Paul to play with. Of course the first thing she does is stand in it and jeer her brother.

Skip Jr: Listen sis, this is your game not mine.

I’m fine with whatever happens as long as that ball doesn’t hit poor Darleen’s gravestone.

Susie: So what we got going here.

Beau: Well we have this whole saga, see. Shirley here has been struggling with her feelings towards Muriel for quite some time now –

Susie: So she sets fire to Muriel’s hair in a passionate fury and then these two ladies over here come and chop her good with samurai swords to avenge Muriel?

Beau: Uh, no –

Susie: ‘I curse the day Shirley was born!’ ‘As do I, we will demand blood for blood!’

Beau: *sighs* Not really what I was going for. How exactly are we related again?

Susie: This is great! Do you have any of those little green army men? Let’s have them explode the house in an act of WAR.

Oh hi! Tinkering Lady is COOL! Dirk finally bagged the elusive invite to go play with cars and trains and robots. I think he’s our first too.

I am going to aggressively marry her into one of the families at some point, I have to. Boho style, badass purple streak in her hair and pink eyes too? She has it all!

Brandi, that is not acceptable. You have a pottery badge for crying out loud.

Oh okay, you’re going into labor. I suppose that’s a fair excuse.

Even cool Tinkering Lady is running to see the miracle of life!

Darren: Oh, you’re having the babies, love? That’s nice.

THE MOTHERFUDGING VERTICAL RING GLITCH IS BACK AGAIN ON HIS SECOND FRIGGING MARRIAGE

Susie?

Susie: Astarte and Proserpine are busy avenging Muriel and fending off acts of terror, god, leave me alone.

Dirk looks like he’s singing a power ballad and I’m loving it. Meanwhile Beau is like, this ain’t my first rodeo.

Here we go... again. AGAIN.

The cramming into the doorway while Brandi gives birth in the narrowest place in the whole house is a treat tbh.

And here they are! We gots two gals. Not saying they’re not lovely, call me a picky sim breeder but I was expecting them to be... at least S3? The genetics in this game confuse me sometimes.

Speaking of genetics, look at this brown-eyed babe! Take your pick, they could be from Brandi’s dad or either or Darren’s parents. I’ve named them after surrealist artists (because I figured their parents’d be into that), so we have little Frida here...

... and mere seconds younger, her sister Remedios!

As per usual everybody cheers the firstborn twin and poor Remy doesn’t get a look-in. Even Susie dragged herself away from her macabre soap opera to say hi.

Susie: Who run the world? GIRLS! Who run the world?

Skip Jr: Bang bang!

Beau: No. I only have three Playful points. I refuse to engage in your nonsense.

And here are the twin ladies in their matching rubberbabybuggybumpers. Next up, we have our dearest Beau hitting teenhood! I’m gonna miss him as a kid.

#emmelfishuberhood

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lirlovesfic · 6 years

Text

The Choice

A Doctor Who fanfic

Summary: After GitF, the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey back to the estate to solve a problem involving the TARDIS herself. But when they see a familiar face, the face of someone who should not exist, they realize the problem is deeper than they thought and could endanger the Doctor’s very existence. Primary characters: Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler. Genres: Romance, mystery, adventure, drama, character study, HN AU, fobbed!Nine, sick TARDIS. Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose Rating: Adult

Warning: none for this chaper

a/n: I am currently working on editing this chapter-by-chapter, with the hopes of completing a chapter a day until I catch up with myself. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m doing it to try to get back into the swing of writing and to build some momentum in order to finish this. Also, there have been some tiny things nagging at me for a while (grammar, punctuation, etc.) so I’ll be correcting as many of them as I can find as I go. The story will not change. In fact, most of the changes are going to be so minor that I doubt anyone (besides myself) will notice. But to keep myself on target, I’ll be posting it all here as I go, with links to the other websites it’s on. I hope you enjoy it.

Catch up: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

This chapter: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

Chapter Eighteen—London, 15 July 2007

Rose stared unseeing out the window of the bus at the drizzle of rain that had begun to fall. With nothing else to occupy her mind on the trip home, her thoughts returned to the events of the past few weeks. Her memories flitted from one to another, seemingly with no rhyme or reason.

Arriving back on the Powell Estate. Seeing her first Doctor again, only for him not to remember her. Or anything else. And be human to boot.

Her second Doctor, leaving both her and Mickey on the spaceship right after he said he'd never leave her.

Feeling lied to.

Trying to calm Mickey, despite how terrified she'd been herself.

Meeting Reinette, and for the first time in a long time feeling inadequate.

The TARDIS being sick.

Seeing that piece of shit Jimmy Stone again.

Her second Doctor leaving her here and taking off with Mickey.

Working. At a real job, not just as a lunch lady or a waitress during an adventure.

Seeing her first Doctor again.

Worrying about her second Doctor and Mickey, as they tried to find out what was wrong with the TARDIS. And him.

Not being able to reach the Doctor on her mobile.

The TARDIS being sick.

Missing her second Doctor.

Seeing her first Doctor again, after being sure she'd never see him again.

Holding his hand.

Having a cuddle.

Kissing him.

Oh Lord, kissing him…

Lost in her thoughts, Rose almost missed her stop. When she realized where they were, she jumped up and rushed down the aisle. As she descended the stairs, someone was already getting on. They crashed into one other.

"Oh my God. Rose?"

Rose stared at the short, dark-haired girl in front of her.

"Shareen?"

Shareen pulled her into a tight hug. Then she pushed her away and slugged her in the arm.

"Ow," Rose complained.

"That was for not telling me you were back!" Shareen said.

"Oi! Are you two coming or going?" the bus driver asked.

"Coming," Shareen said firmly. She flashed her travel card at the driver and then pulled Rose towards the back of the bus.

She sat down on an empty seat and yanked Rose down to sit next to her. "Why didn't you tell me you were back?" she demanded.

"Sorry," Rose said sheepishly. "But I haven't been back all that long. Only one week is all. And since then I've been busy."

"Too busy to call your best friend?"

"I've been workin' every day this week."

Shareen's dark brown eyes grew huge and round. "You've been back one week and you already got a job? That must be an Estate record. Where're you workin'?"

"The garage where Mickey used to work. So where are we goin'?" Rose asked, partially in an effort to change the subject.

Shareen named a pub they both knew on the high street. "We're meetin' Susie. We're finishin' up the last of the plans for her wedding."

"I thought her wedding was in a couple months."

"They decided to move it up," Shareen told her.

"Why?"

"You'll see."

~oOo~

"Would you like more tea, love? Or more biscuits?" Gladys asked.

John was sitting on the small sofa in the crowded lounge of Gladys and Irene's flat, a china cup filled with tea in his hand and a matching saucer precariously balanced on his knee. The room was jam packed with furniture. End tables had been placed on either side of the sofa, and two overstuffed chairs sat opposite it, with a low glass coffee table between them. There was a rocking chair, a doily covered side table next to it, the ubiquitous telly on a stand in the corner. And there were figurines everywhere, mostly of cats: cats curled up, sleeping; cats playing with balls of yarn; cats carrying kittens in their mouths. There was even one sitting on the top of a tall curio cabinet, perched as if she was reaching over to bat the occasional passerby with her paw.

"No, ta," he answered. "As much as I'd love to…"

"Oh, we know," Gladys said. "There aren't any secrets on the Estate." She gave him a knowing smile. "You need to go and meet that girl you're courting, don't you? Rose Tyler, isn't it?"

He stared at her. "I'm not—"

"They don't call it courting anymore, Gladys," Irene interrupted. "People haven't used the word courting for sixty years."

"They called it courting when I was young," her sister argued.

"And you are seventy-five, love," Irene reminded her as she patted her hand.

Gladys's eyes widened in surprise. "Am I?"

"Yes, Gladys." Irene turned to John. "Gladys sometimes forgets how old she is, bless her heart," she said affectionately.

"Happens to the best of us," John answered, thinking about his own situation. He couldn't remember his real name, let alone his age.

"Well, if they don't call it courting anymore, what do they call it?" Gladys asked.

"Seeing each other," Irene told her. When Gladys still looked confused, she continued. "They're lovers, Gladys."

John's jaw dropped. He stared at her. "Oh, we're… we're not…"

"You aren't? Well, I wouldn't worry about it," she told him. "If you aren't yet, you will be soon." She winked at him.

"Well, then you'd better get going," Gladys said. "Because if you're going to go shag, you need a shower." She wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of it.

"We're not—"

"And you should consider a haircut. And a shave," Irene told him pointedly. "Pretty, young thing like Rose, with that grey in your beard, you look like her grandfather."

His eyebrows shot up. "Grandfather?"

"I don't know, Irene," Gladys said, appraising him. "I think he's dead sexy just the way he is. The long hair gives her something to grab onto, and you know just how good a beard can be. The things my fourth husband could do with his beard..."

John's eyes widened, and he fought a laugh from escaping. "Ladies, it's been lovely, but I think it's time for me to go."

Outside he was hit with a blast of warm, humid air. It wasn't raining, but it clearly had been recently. The railing and the walkway overhead were dripping, and small puddles had formed in the courtyard where the pavement was uneven. Someone he'd done a job for today had said the forecast was for rain, and evidently he was right.

As soon as he was back in his own flat, John quickly showered and dressed. Afterwards he stared into the mirror over the sink. An old man stared back at him. Irene was right, he had a little grey in his beard. Since when did he have a beard? He certainly hadn't intended to grow one. Frowning, he ran a hand over his unshaven face. When had he last shaved? He couldn't remember.

And then there was his hair. His hair looked like it hadn't seen scissors in six months. Which made sense, because it hadn't. As a result, it was too short to be cool and too long to be trendy. Not that that mattered. He was too old to be trendy anyway. Either way, Gladys's words to the contrary, with his hair and his beard in their current states, he looked like hell. No wonder Jimmy had accused him of being Rose's grandfather.

Well, there was one way to fix that, he thought.

Ten minutes later he was sitting down in the barber shop around the corner.

"Take it all off," he said.

~oOo~

Ten minutes later, Rose and Shareen walked into the pub to find Susie MacGinnis had already arrived. Unlike the stylish clothes she usually wore, she was wearing an oversized red T-shirt and jeans. Her long ginger hair was pulled up into a high ponytail.

Somehow Susie had managed to grab the best table in the place, the one next to the window, and she had a huge plate of chips and a fizzy drink in front of her.

Her face lit up when she saw them. "Rose, when did you get back?" She stood up to greet them.

Rose's jaw dropped as she stared at her friend's baby bump. "Susie, you're… you're…"

"Yep," she said, grinning. "Five months gone." She rubbed her gently rounded belly. "A little girl, thank God. Don't know if I could handle a boy first time out."

Slowly the look of shock on Rose's face was replaced by a wide grin. "Congratulations!" She wrapped Susie in a big hug. When they all sat down at the table, she asked, "So is that why the wedding's been moved up?"

"Yeah," Susie said. "I still want to be able to wear my wedding dress. I tried it on yesterday and I could barely fit into it. And that's after they let it out as far as they could without adding more material. So we decided to move the wedding." She rubbed her swollen belly. "Besides, this one's not gonna get any smaller. I don't want to walk down the aisle looking like a hippo. Or I should say, any more like a hippo than I already do."

"You're gonna be gorgeous no matter what," Shareen said. "And Rob's gonna think so too."

"You're just sayin' that because you're my maid of honor," Susie said.

"Nah, I don't like you enough to lie to you," Shareen told her seriously, and then burst out laughing.

Susie stuck her tongue out her.

The door to the pub opened, and Rita walked in. Her left eye was almost swollen shut, and makeup did nothing to disguise the large bruise on the left side of her face. Shareen and Susie didn't bother to ask what had happened.

"Oh my God, Rita," Susie said, wincing in sympathy.

Shareen, on the other hand, was disgusted. "I hope you kicked that piece of shit in the bollocks."

"How are you doing?" Rose asked.

"Better than last night," Rita answered. She turned to the others. "Rose's friend John chased Chuck off, then Joe stayed with me. I'm movin' into his place for a week or so until I can find someplace else to go. We moved my stuff over there first thing this morning."

"I thought you said your brother's place was too small," Rose said.

"It's better than where I was," Rita stated. "And me stayin' with Joe, that's only between us, yeah? Only you three know, outside my family. I don't want Chuck findin' out where I am."

They all nodded, and then something occurred to Rose.

"How'd you know John was my friend?"

"Seriously?" Rita asked. "First, there was the way you were actin' with each other last night. Then there was the fact you went home with him. And third, do you even remember where you live? You know how the Estate is. Everyone knew you two were seein' each other, probably even before you did."

"Rose went home with someone?" Shareen asked her, and then slugged Rose in the shoulder again. "Why didn't you tell me? First you get home and you don't tell me, then you get a job and you don't tell me, and now you're seein' someone and you don't tell me!" She slugged Rose a third time and then sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and scowled at her.

"I said sorry!" Rose protested. "And I'm not seein' John. Not really." She turned to Rita. "And how'd you know I went home with him?"

"Seriously?" Rita asked again. "First rule of the Estate is there are no secrets on the Estate. Plus I understand you snuck home this morning in your nighty."

"How'd you find out about that?" Rose asked incredulously.

Rita began ticking things off on her fingers. "Your mum called Bev, Bev called Rhonda, Rhonda told Beth at the market, and then Beth told Joe's girlfriend, Julie. Julie told Joe, who didn't care one way or the other but told me anyway."

Elbows on the table, Rose dropped her head in her hands. How could she have forgotten how gossipy the Powell Estate could be?

"Whatever happened to the Doctor?" Shareen asked.

"Who's the Doctor?" Susie asked.

"The bloke Rose has been travelin' with for the last couple of years," Shareen answered. She turned back to Rose. "I thought the two of you were together."

"The Doctor and I aren't like that," Rose told her.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Not even once? Neither of you headed to the bathroom half asleep in the middle of the night and ended up in the wrong bedroom?"

Rose laughed and shook her head. "Nope. Not even once."

"What is he, gay or something?" Shareen asked.

For the second time that day, an image of Reinette crossed Rose's mind. "Nope, not gay."

"Is he really, really ugly, then?" Susie asked. "Because I'd think that after two years even Rita's brother Joe would look good after a couple of drinks."

"Oi!" Rita protested.

"I never met the Doctor, but Keisha did. According to her, he was a looker," Shareen said. "A bit odd, but tall and well fit is what she said."

"Where is Keisha anyway?" Rose asked, trying to change the subject.

"She and her brother went travelin'," Shareen told her.

"They were gonna be back well before the wedding—" Susie said.

"Until the wedding got moved up," Shareen said teasingly. "Are you sure you don't have twins in there?"

"Oh, God, don't even joke about that!"

"I'll go order for the rest of us," Rose volunteered, and when she came back they were still talking about the wedding and the baby. To her relief conversation never returned to her, the Doctor, or John. Because she didn't know what she'd do if any of them ever figured out John was the Doctor.

~oOo~

Back in his flat after his visit to the barber, John stared in the mirror in his bathroom again, surveying his newly shaved face and closely-cropped hair. He frowned. He had a daft face, he decided, with a large nose, a receding hairline, a mole on his cheek, and overly large ears.

He ran a hand over his head. It felt odd to have almost all his hair gone, but it felt somehow right at the same time, almost like he felt more like himself in some way he couldn't put his finger on. He certainly felt cooler, which was a distinct advantage in July. Having it gone made him look younger as well. He thought. He hoped.

Too bad the lack of hair emphasized how large his ears were.

Oh well. Nothing to be done about that.

He glanced at the clock. Half four. Was that too early to call her?

Maybe, but he decided that he didn't care.

He pulled out his mobile and pressed speed dial.

"The party you are trying to reach is unavailable. If you would like to leave a message—"

He frowned again. She told him to ring her when he was done. He dialed again.

"The party you are trying to reach is unavailable. If you would like to leave a message—"

"Huh."

Maybe her phone was turned off for some reason. After thinking a moment, he decided to pick her up at her flat. After all, she had agreed to come over. If she had changed her mind, he'd just come home.

A tiny part of him, a part that he tried to ignore, desperately hoped she hadn't changed her mind.

Remembering that it had been raining earlier, he grabbed a jumper from his bedroom. He pulled it on over his head as he walked out the door.

Once outside, he crossed the courtyard and climbed the stairs of Bucknall House. Number 48, she said. Once he got to the door to her flat, he looked around, puzzled. It seemed familiar for some reason.

He knocked on the door, and after a moment he heard someone coming to answer it.

"Did you forget your key again?" a female voice called.

The door was opened by a woman wearing a powder blue track suit. Part of her bottle blonde hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail while the rest hung loose around her face, and the heavy makeup she wore did nothing to disguise that she was about forty.

Bloody hell, it was that woman who had hit on him when he had come over to fix her tap.

Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes grew huge. "Oh my God, it's you," she said. "She said it was, but I didn't really believe it. But it is, isn't it?"

"Is Rose Tyler here?" he asked, desperately hoping he had the wrong flat.

"No," she said, and he was relieved. Until she continued. "I expected her back hours ago. I figured she was with one of you."

He stared at her. The woman was obviously completely round the bend.

"One of me?" he asked.

She slammed a hand over her mouth again. "Never mind. Forget I said that."

"Does Rose Tyler live here?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, you wouldn't remember that, would you?" she said. "Yeah, she lives here."

"So who are you?" He realized it came out sounding like an accusation, even to his own ears, but then the whole conversation was making him feel a little off balanced.

"I'm her mum," she snapped.

He sighed. He'd been afraid of that. "Can I come in?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

She stepped away from the doorway.

"I tried calling her, but I think her phone is off," he said as he entered the flat. "Either that or it needs recharging."

"Her phone is never off, and it never needs recharging. I've tried calling her for hours, just hours, all afternoon, but no answer. And she always answers, or at least rings back right away. Her not calling back hasn't happened since—well, never mind about that now. Anyway, I figured she was gone again. Although she usually says goodbye these days. Unlike the first time."

She got a strange look on her face. It almost looked like she was glaring at him, but that didn't make sense. Then again, nothing Rose's mum had said or done since he had arrived had made any sense.

"Well, sit down," she ordered as they made their way into the lounge.

He sat.

The messy, overly crowded room looked familiar, from its beat up fake leather furniture to the piles of gossip magazines and cheap romance novels piled on the coffee table to the mirror hanging on the wall. He told himself it was just because he had been here before, to repair the tap. But it felt like more than that. More like déjà vu, like there was a memory there, hidden, just out of reach. He had odd flashes of a plastic arm. And the table, but a different table, laying broken on the floor.

Weird.

He shook his head to clear the images as she sat down opposite him. An awkward silence fell between them.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said after a minute or so, "but I don't remember your name."

"My name's Jackie," she said slowly, as if she was talking to a child. "And you're the—never mind. What's your name again?"

"John," he told her, wondering if being here with her could be any more awkward than it currently was. Of course, she could proposition him again, he thought. That would definitely be more awkward.

The sound of the front door opening filtered through to the lounge. Rose, John thought, feeling a wave of relief. He stood, tamping down an irrational but almost overwhelming desire to grab her hand and shout run.

As Rose walked into the flat, she could hear sounds coming from the lounge. The telly, maybe, she thought, or maybe Stuart was over. "Mum, are you here?"

"Back here, Rose," Jackie called back. "Where've you been?"

"I left a note," she told her.

"Well, I didn't see it," Jackie answered. "All afternoon I've been calling and calling. The Do—John said that maybe your battery went."

"John? Is he here?"

She walked into the room. And her jaw dropped as she took in the man who stood in front of her. Clean-shaven, close-cropped hair, green jumper, twinkling blue eyes, and a wide grin.

It was her first Doctor.

#The Choice #nine x rose #ten x rose #ficandchips #fobbed!Nine #revised chapter #I'm desperate to get this done #because I looked at the calendar #and I leave in 3 WEEKS #I want all the editing #and the next chapter posted #before I go

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mollymauk-teafleak · 7 years

Note

❝ My mother always hoped my kids would end up like me…I’m so sorry. ❞ everything's ok au, maybe some eliza/maria bonding? 😏👍🏼

Okay so this is for @childofdustandashes because I love her she’s had a rough few days and she deserves to be happy and smiling all the time so I hope this helps.

“My mother always hoped my kids would end up like me,” Elizasighed gently, shifting little sniffling Liza on her hip, tenderly wiping away someof the shiny snail trails running down her daughter’s cheeks, “Guess they did…”

She turned her face and chuckled apologetically, “I’m so, sosorry.”

Maria had to smile, Eliza’s upturned lips were always soinfectious. It was like she pulled good moods and sunny moments out of nowhereand, even better, let her friend share them. Like she was holding an umbrella upagainst the rain that Maria seemed to spend most of her bad days in, that she’dconvinced herself was just her version of normal, but Eliza gladly suffered alittle of the wind and the pattering mist to let Maria shelter under there withher.

“It’s my job,” she pointed out as she wrestled her hair,finally allowed to grow thick and wavy and naturally in the last few years,into a solid bun at the nape of her neck, “And my pleasure.”

“But after AJ’s fractured finger yesterday and Philip’sblack eye the week before,” Eliza sighed a little fretfully, taking a seat onone of the hard plastic chairs made for people much littler than Eliza herselfthat sat in a perpetually neat row along the left wall of Maria’s nursestation, below the colourful sunburst mural and the growing population of picturesfrom her young patients, little thank you’s for smiles in the corridor on themorning, sweets pressed into palms to reward tackling injections, for hugs andband aids and spoonful’s of medicine.

Maria loved looking at that wall. Of course, Susan’spictures went right in the centre.

“And this littlemadam,” Eliza rolled her eyes with more than a little bit of affection, pushingback her little girl’s lion mane of ringlets where some had stuck to her tearstained face, still a picture of misery, “Who seems determined to break everybone in her body before she’s six years old.”

“N’ma fault, mama,” Liza put up a feeble protest, alwaysready to argue back, too much of her father’s blood in her veins not to getdefensive.

“Oh?” Eliza smiled gently, her heart softening considerablyat poor Liza’s weak indignance, cuddling her little girl closer, letting herrest her head on her chest, “So it wasn’t your fault you were up in that tree,huh?”

Liza considered the tricky logical corner that backed herinto. She pushed her bottom lip out, “Yes. AJ dared me.”

Maria muffled her giggle into her palm, covering it up bypretending to rattle the tin of tongue depressors with an errant elbow. Elizawas hiding a smirk herself, sticking her tongue out across the room at herfriend when Liza wasn’t looking.

AJ’s reputation preceded him. Apparently becoming a teenagerhadn’t matured him any.

Good, Eliza would think, when she saw him dropping waterballoons on his elder brother’s head from the upstairs window or throwingclever innuendos at her Alex from across the breakfast table. She hoped henever changed, she hoped none of them ever did, they were perfect the way theywere.

Though, she amended that thought in her own mind, editingher own thoughts. She’d like her little namesake’s penchant for getting herselfinto trouble would fade. Just a little.

“Well how about the next time AJ dares you to do something,”Eliza chuckled, “You tell him to go take a hike. Alright?”

“Okay,” Liza gave a shaky sigh, the movement making the achein her arm, the deep burn buried under her skin that had been throbbing sinceshe whacked it on a branch falling out of the tree in the backyard and,thankfully, into her father’s arms, flare up angrily and a low wail escape herlips, “Mama, it hurts.”

Eliza’s heart broke, the way it always did when one of herchildren was hurting. Maria nodded gently, motioning for her to turn Lizaforward, kneeling in front of the chair, pulling her white nurse’s coat aroundher.

“Well, let’s see what Auntie Maria can do about that, huh?”she smiled gently, “Can I have a look at your arm please, pumpkin?”

Liza looked like she was about to, for just a moment, beforeit jostled her arm and she turtled right back into Eliza’s arms with afrightened squeak.

Maria’s gaze softened, and she murmured in a comforting, lowtone, “Oh honey, I know it’s sore. I promise, I only want to help.”

She’d quickly realised after fulfilling her dream of workingwith children that she had a natural talent for getting frightened little onesto put their faith in her, trust her at their most vulnerable moments andbelieve her when she smiled and told them that everything was going to be okay.

Of course, Maria had had plenty of practise doing that, withone scared, frightened little girl in particular, her little Susan, her dove.She’d somehow made those words believable back then, as she’d pressed Susie’sthin little body against her chest like she could somehow fold her up good andsmall and tuck her away safely in her heart were no whisky stained breath andcareless swinging fists could hurt her.

Doing it now, for these sweet kids, was so much easier. Becausenow Maria knew it was true, things really were going to be okay.

Liza peeked out at her auntie dolefully, her pain brightenedeyes making her look like a little jungle mammal. Maria smiled encouragingly,the deep red lipstick perfectly applied to her lips enchanting the little girland earning her the last scrap of trust she needed.

Maria loved the bright red lipstick she wore, she always hadever since she’d saved up her money for two weeks as a thirteen-year-old dizzyon freedom and independence, to buy her first tiny stick of it from the grown-upcounter of the department store. It made her feel powerful, strong, made herstand just a little taller.

James had told her it made her look like a whore.

Now, every time Maria put on that lipstick in the bathroommirror while Susie sang loudly and tunelessly and beautifully in the shower orsaw the smudges of it on the lid of her coffee cup halfway through the day ornoticed the gloss of it on the lips of her girlfriend Martha, the ghost oftheir sweet goodnight kiss that made Maria’s heart soar because yes, such a honeyperfect moment deserved to live on; every time she saw it, Maria would grin andfeel such pride, her painted lips would turn upwards in a stunning smile.

James could keep his words. She had things that were real.

Once she could carefully study Liza’s little arm, pokinggently at her tawny skin, she could nod and keep her promise. Everything reallywas okay, nothing broken, just a nasty sprain and probably some internalbruising. Wearing a sling for a few days and a short course of painkillerswould take the youngest Hamilton back to her usual bouncy self. She’d betumbling out of the ancient, awkwardly curving oak tree and (hopefully) intoAlex’s arms by next Sunday.

“See, pumpkin?” Maria beamed as she expertly tied the knot behindher curtain of curls, “Just got to wear your special pirate sling for a whileand all the hurt will be gone.”

“What do we say to auntie Maria, Liza?” Eliza smiled proudlyfrom where she perched on the examination table, swinging her legs. Though whoshe was prouder of out of her daughter and her friend, it was impossible tosay.

“Thank you!” the girl with Eliza’s name and Alex’s features,the perfect mix of both her parents, chirped brightly and pulled Maria down bythe lapels of her coat for a kiss on the cheek.

Maria grinned so wide it illuminated her whole face, givingLiza a kiss right back so she ended up with a perfect red lipstick kiss on onecheek and waving as the little girl suddenly forgot all about her injuries andwar wounds and sped out of the nurse’s office, determined to go play with thetoys she’d seen in the waiting room.

Eliza shook her head fondly, sighing and looping the oldbeaded purse she’d carried around as long as Maria had known her, “That girl…”

“She’s wonderful,” Maria smiled and she meant it.

“So, how’s the rest of your week been?” she continued, hertone somehow always that bright and cheerful and ringing with the truth thatshe honestly did want to know the answer, “Apart from being run off your feetpatching up my family, I mean?”

Maria chuckled, leaning against the counter, “You guys keepme busy, I’m not complaining.”

“I am,” Eliza rolled her eyes, “With as many kids as I have,you’d think one would have some sense of self preservation…”

“They’re too much like their father,’ Maria shrugged placating,“Well…I’ve yet to see Jamie in here?”

Eliza shook her head, “No dice. His hands are covered inburns. He insists that all good chefs have them.”

“Occupational hazard,” Maria smiled fondly, thinking of thebox of frankly heavenly peanut butter brownies the quiet, contemplative middleHamilton had given her the other week. They’d been so good, she and Susie andMartha had gone through the whole lot over the course of one Disney moviemarathon.

Maria could remember a time when she’d so carefully guardedeverything she ate, not just because there was little of it and her daughter’sneeds always came first but also because even the slightest hint of a curve inher stomach, thighs or hips would bring down a hail of cutting words that madeher not want to get out of bed, to pull the covers up over her head and sinkinto a world of sleep where she didn’t have to look at herself in anyreflective surface.

Now she ate happily, she ate freely, she ate just to tastenew things and revisit old favourites and just because she simply wanted to.And the mornings Maria didn’t want to get out of bed were usually becauseMartha would be wound around her, nuzzling at the musky hollows in Maria’s neckso pleasantly. And she looked at herself in the mirror proudly, fondly, likeshe was looking at the face of a friend rather than someone who she didn’t understandand felt betrayed by.

“Hey,” she chirped, a bemused smile spreading over her face,“What you said back there, about how you’re sorry your kids are like you? Whatdid you mean there?”

Eliza blinked, tilting her head in that way she did, “Oh!Oh, the clumsiness, the constantly getting bashed about, that’s all from me.”

Maria was surprised, “I thought it was Alex?”

Eliza grinned, shaking her head almost proudly, “Nah, allme, hon.”

“No way!”

“Yes way!” her friend giggled, “I’ll prove it.”

Eliza began rolling up the sleeves of her cream colouredblouse, revealing her slim arms, “Okay, brief history of baby Eliza Schuyler’sexploits…”

She pointed with one prettily painted nail in a slate grey(done by Alex, Maria guessed, the guy had an odd talent for it) and she noticedan old faded scar.

“That one’s from where I fell into the pond out back of myparents’ place to save a duckling from getting eaten by a heron…” the finger travelledup and found another, slightly more gnarled scar, “That’s from where I fell offthe roof, a baby blackbird got wedged in the gutter…,” a ridge of puckered,slightly shiny skin, “There was a fire in the barn one really hot July and Iran in to go rescue our gardener’s dog’s litter of pups…that one I got when theladder slipped when I was painting the roof of my fort…see, there? I fell offsome rocks down by the seaside and got my leg trapped…oh, my nose is crookedright there cos I was sliding down the banister and cracked my face off thetiles…”

Maria was creased with laughter, “Oh my god, Eliza!”

“So yeah,” Eliza blushed a little but she was laughing too, “Youcan blame my Alex for a lot but not that. That one’s on me.”

“Well, I’m glad you calmed down,” Maria chuckled, “Go on,get out before I start to lecture you…”

Eliza gave an exaggerated look of horror and dived for thedoor, pausing just before she moved out of sight, “Thanks for everything Maria.See you this weekend, yes?”

Maria nodded, “Sure,” her smile widened, “Wouldn’t misscelebrating you giving me another baby Hamilton to patch up every other day.”

Her eyes flickered down to Eliza’s abdomen, making herfriend flush with happiness. Maria was one of the few people she’d told so far.

Once the goodbyes were said, Maria closed her eyes, stillsmiling, feeling like she’d always be smiling for the rest of her life.

She’d never felt so warm.

#everythings okay au #maria reynolds #eliza hamilton #baby fluff #also?#I know you probably meant that eliza/maria in a platonic way #but the emojis making me suspicious and its always good to make clear #I dont ship mar/liza and won't fill requests for it #sorry

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ostrcized · 5 years

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Lindsey was looking out the window when she saw Grace Tarking with her arm in Mrs. Gilbert’s and Grace’s boyfriend steadying Mr. Gilbert as the four of them cut across the O’Dwyers’ lawn. “Something’s going on in the cornfield, Mom,” she said. My mother was reading Molière, whom she had studied so intensely in college but hadn’t looked at since. Beside her were the books that had marked her as an avant-garde undergraduate: Sartre, Colette, Proust, Flaubert. She had pulled them off the shelves in her bedroom and promised herself she would reread them that year. “I’m not interested,” she said to Lindsey, “but I’m sure your father will be when he gets home. Why don’t you go up and play with your brother?” My sister had dutifully hovered for weeks now, paying court to our mother regardless of the signals she gave. There was something on the other side of the icy surface. Lindsey was sure of it. She stayed by my mother, sitting by her chair and watching our neighbors outside the window. *** By the time darkness fell, the candles the latecomers had had the foresight to bring lit the cornfield. It seemed like everyone I’d ever known or sat next to in a classroom from kindergarten to eighth grade was there. Mr. Botte saw that something was happening when he’d come out of the school after preparing his classroom for the next day’s annual animal digestion experiment. He’d strolled over, and, when he realized what it was, he let himself back into the school and made some calls. There had been a secretary who had been overcome by my death. She came with her son. There had been some teachers who hadn’t come to the official school memorial. The rumors of Mr. Harvey’s suspected guilt had begun to make their way from neighbor to neighbor on Thanksgiving night. By the next afternoon it was the only thing the neighbors could talk about — was it possible? Could that strange man who had lived so quietly among them have killed Susie Salmon? But no one had dared approach my family to find out the details. Cousins of friends or fathers of the boys who cut their lawn were asked if they knew anything. Anyone who might know what the police were doing had been buddied up to in the past week, and so my memorial was both a way to mark my memory and a way for the neighbors to seek comfort from one another. A murderer had lived among them, passed them on the street, bought Girl Scout cookies from their daughters and magazine subscriptions from their sons. In my heaven I buzzed with heat and energy as more and more people reached the cornfield and lit their candles and began to hum a low, dirgelike song for which Mr. O’Dwyer called back to the distant memory of his Dublin grandfather. My neighbors were awkward at first, but the secretary from the school clung to Mr. O’Dwyer as his voice gave forth, and she added her less melodious one. Ruana Singh stood stiffly in an outer circle away from her son. Dr. Singh had called as she was leaving to say he would be sleeping overnight in his office. But other fathers, coming home from their offices, parked their cars in their driveways only to get out and follow their neighbors. How could they both work to support their families and watch their children to make sure they were safe? As a group they would learn it was impossible, no matter how many rules they laid down. What had happened to me could happen to anyone. No one had called my house. My family was left undisturbed. The impenetrable barrier that surrounded the shingles, the chimney, the woodpile, the driveway, the fence, was like a layer of clear ice that coated the trees when it rained and then froze. Our house looked the same as every other one on the block, but it was not the same. Murder had a blood red door on the other side of which was everything unimaginable to everyone. When the sky had turned a dappled rose, Lindsey realized what was happening. My mother never lifted her eyes from her book.

“They’re having a ceremony for Susie,” Lindsey said. “Listen.” She cracked the window open. In rushed the cold December air and the distant sound of singing. My mother used all her energy. “We’ve had the memorial,” she said. “That’s done for me.” “What’s done?” My mother’s elbows were on the armrests of the yellow wingedback chair. She leaned slightly forward and her face moved into shadow, making it harder for Lindsey to see the expression on her face. “I don’t believe she’s waiting for us out there. I don’t think lighting candles and doing all that stuff is honoring her memory. There are other ways to honor it.” “Like what?” Lindsey said. She sat cross-legged on the rug in front of my mother, who sat in her chair with her finger marking her place in Molière. “I want to be more than a mother.” Lindsey thought she could understand this. She wanted to be more than a girl. My mother put the Molière book on top of the coffee table and scooted forward on the chair until she lowered herself down onto the rug. I was struck by this. My mother did not sit on the floor, she sat at the bill-paying desk or in the wing chairs or sometimes on the end of the couch with Holiday curled up beside her. She took my sister’s hand in hers. “Are you going to leave us?” Lindsey asked. My mother wobbled. How could she say what she already knew? Instead, she told a lie. “I promise I won’t leave you.” What she wanted most was to be that free girl again, stacking china at Wanamaker’s, hiding from her manager the Wedgwood cup with the handle she broke, dreaming of living in Paris like de Beauvoir and Sartre, and going home that day laughing to herself about the nerdy Jack Salmon, who was pretty cute even if he hated smoke. The cafés in Paris were full of cigarettes, she’d told him, and he’d seemed impressed. At the end of that summer when she invited him in and they had, both for the first time, made love, she’d smoked a cigarette, and for the joke he said he’d have one too. When she handed him the damaged blue china to use as an ashtray, she used all her favorite words to embellish the story of breaking and then hiding, inside her coat, the now homely Wedgwood cup. “Come here, baby,” my mother said, and Lindsey did. She leaned her back into my mother’s chest, and my mother rocked her awkwardly on the rug. “You are doing so well, Lindsey; you are keeping your father alive.” And they heard his car pull into the drive. Lindsey let herself be held while my mother thought of Ruana Singh out behind her house, smoking. The sweet scent of Dunhills had drifted out onto the road and taken my mother far away. Her last boyfriend before my father had loved Gauloises. He had been a pretentious little thing, she thought, but he had also been oh-so-serious in a way that let her be oh-so-serious as well. “Do you see the candles, Mom?” Lindsey asked, as she stared out the window. “Go get your father,” my mother said.

My sister met my father in the mud room, hanging up his keys and coat. Yes, they would go, he said. Of course they would go. “Daddy!” My brother called from the second floor, where my sister and father went to meet him. “Your call,” my father said as Buckley bodychecked him. “I’m tired of protecting him,” Lindsey said. “It doesn’t feel real not to include him. Susie’s gone. He knows that.” My brother stared up at her. “There is a party for Susie,” Lindsey said. “And me and Daddy are taking you.” “Is Mommy sick?” Buckley asked. Lindsey didn’t want to lie to him, but she also felt it was an accurate description of what she knew. “Yes.” Lindsey agreed to meet our father downstairs while she brought Buckley into his room to change his clothes. “I see her, you know,” Buckley said, and Lindsey looked at him. “She comes and talks to me, and spends time with me when you’re at soccer.”

Lindsey didn’t know what to say, but she reached out and grabbed him and squeezed him to her, the way he often squeezed Holiday. “You are so special,” she said to my brother. “I’ll always be here, no matter what.”

#book notes.

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allthatwehear · 5 years

Text

i want to tell him how much i love him

why do you love someone who hurts you? we all make mistakes. we all make an abundance of mistakes. we all say things we don’t mean--but truly, is that ever science? i think most outbursts have some meaning to them; i learned this when i screamed at luke in the car. i meant when i said then; he meant what he said, too.

he told me i was still his bestfriend. he said he didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to leave for study abroad, for him. yeah, it was harder than he thought to be away from me. then why would he say all those outbursts? what am i supposed to do? i told him, “i don’t know what to believe, the first or second phone call,” and i was telling the truth.

i called tim lipps. he told me he thought luke’s second call was stalling. he thought it was weird that luke would tell your partner all these things. he said he sided with me. and it felt good to hear luke’s friend say how weird that was. and i’ve been wondering what it means to listen to the whisper. I’ve tried to find many opportunities to be alone so that if God speaks to me, he would. but almost every morning--screw that, it could be any time of the day--i bunch over and cry. i feel frail and weak; i actually have never felt so physically ill before, i’m serious. i weigh like, 120-125 pounds and i think i’m nearly 5″8--that probably bad, right? my spine is like, protruding from my back and i can feel my shoulders ache almost every day. i wake up and my head is heavy and i’m tired all the time, i could legitimately lay in bed for hours. i feel asleep yesterday and it’s hard for me to stay up. it’s hard for me to be out of the house. but i like to be alone. i like to either be with daniel and mom, or i like to be alone.

i sat outside with juge to eat breakfast and that was really nice. we talked about her coding class and trying to find a loan and i was really proud of her. i also felt really connected to her. i’m proud of who she is, regardless of if she is changing herself. i think in a way, we are all just wondering who we are. maddie, jay, me--we are all just grappling at strings, trying to tug until we find that buried self--buried with caroline. she took us with her in the grave and it was the death of us. i don’t blame juge for wanting to change. i don’t blame anyone who thinks they might need to run away because the pain is too strong. i know what it looks like to not be emotionally strong enough to leave someone who probably deserves for you to leave--i side with them now, i get it now--i get why maddie doesn’t feel strong enough to be without someone. because once you get a taste for someone who can hold you close, who can touch you and bring physical warmth and strong arms to your aching bones, i get why you wouldn’t want to let that go. i get why you couldnt--because the alternative is too dang hard. because we are too weak and we have been made to ache, endlessly, because our caroline left us. and maybe we would be stronger people but right now all i can say is--i understand.

i understand thinking you can work with what you have; actually, choking down pills, maybe changing yourself a little bit, to make it work; because you just can’t see it any other way. i’m getting stronger, though. and i realize that luke is young, very very young. and i am precious. and really, really bad ass and cool. i’ve been through a lot of shit. and i think it’s my turn to turn around and shape myself. i think it’s okay to change when you need to. i think it’s okay to drop a few friends, hideout at home just so you can breathe, stare outside because no thoughts will reach your mind. i think it’s okay to listen to stranger things music because that show makes you inspired/feel something like no other--i think it’s okay to wear his sweatshirt when you wake up. i think it’s okay not to speak to him, and to belt out the music you wish he could hear you saying--i think i’m finally clean, rain came down and washed it away--i’m like a rubber band until you pull too hard. i’ve got an elastic heart.

until you pull too hard. and maybe he pulled too hard. and maybe now i can’t trust him, maybe i can’t see him the same--from this sweet, little boy who adored me--happened to be the one that hurt me the most? it’s delirious. it’s deceptive. it’s, mind-boggling, really. i remember the way he looked at me, sitting under the table in that hand-made fort thing we made, naiively thinking we would sleep there cause we just wanted to be together. i was leaving and susy was beside me and he was staring at me. i mean, staring. and then when we biked he started rubbing my hand to warm it up, and he wouldn’t stop rubbing it and i felt so peaceful and so hopeful and stared out at the water from gas works. i don’t think i even remember that bike ride back to the school. i remember rushing back into luke’s car to go find his phone, cause he left it, and the whole time i wished amy wasn’t in the back so we could talk about how much we liked each other. and i remember the red lights on his face, when we stood on the fremont bridge on our first date to fremont. he admitted later when i asked him if he was contemplating kissing me then; he was but he thought it was too early, too. i remember going to the art museum, i remember holding his hand in rimsky’s. i remember the way he looked at me at the rocky mountain church; someone mentioned how there are weddings held in there, and he looked right at me. actually, was staring right at me. and i felt like he was imagining us in that church, getting married: actually i’m pretty sure that’s what he was thinking, there was an undeniable look in his eye. and now that church holds a special place in my heart. but hah, would he ever sit down and write these things about me?

i kinda want to be free again. i kinda want to be independent again. i kinda want to shed a layer and be really adventurous and indulge myself in really risky, ridiculous things that mean i stay up all night and im going crazy doing stuff--because fuck i’m young? why do i have to settle into being so old already? fuck i want to try new things! i want to jump off the fremont bridge, i want to stay up all night driving to somewhere and wake up, bleary eyes staring out at the sunrise, listening to billy joel or some shit, some old tunes. i want to find like-minded people like that. i want to live so crazy that i’m exhausted from doing so many things. i want to be the cool girl, with the beanies and the camera. maybe film; yeah, i like film. i want to be the one always hungering to go out and try something new--adventure off a ways and explore. listen to some old stuff. idk, i just wanna live. i want to stop crying all the time. i want to stop banking on him messaging me, or saying goodnight, or saying goodmorning. i don’t care anymore. i dont want to care anymore. i want to unplug, destress. hands off, let’s go. i’m off social media for awhile. maybe stop watching tv until i get home. i kinda want to dance in the mountains to some hipster music, i want to make someone laugh and date a mountain man. i want him to scoop me off my feet and carry me around, romantic-style. i want him to be so infatuated by me that he just wants to hear everything about me. he can’t get enough of me. he has light eyes and he stares into mine, concentration unbroken. i want him to watch stranger things with me and be super fashionable and cute. i want him to love jesus and to pray with me when im crying. he’s older than me, and he’s been through a few things. but he’s infatuated with me, and i have no doubts about how he feels. maybe he’s a little taller.

why is heartbreak so hard? you can’t change a person. they are just who they are. maybe we can see when luke gets back--but if i have any strong inclination towards letting go, then i will. i’ve been in so much pain. so much more pain than reassurance. i can’t wait to start school. i can’t wait to start learning things again; to start feeling inspired and happy again. to put my mind towards studying and just distracting myself from the pain. i think luke held me back in some ways. maybe i head myself back in some ways. maybe marta was right--it was just bad timing. what is that gentle, yet fierce, whisper.

is it, be fierce? love yourself fiercely--be fierce? what’s that--i deserve happiness? and fun? and to feel like a child? what’s the rush to grow up about, the focus so much on the future? why not think about the PRESENT

i want him to love all the quirks about me, man. so head over heels in love with me

ya lost me, and unless there’s some sort of miracle, and you decide that you are head over heels for me? idk man, i.d.k.

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