l;sdks;l

“Poor little queen…”

Since I love my wife, I had to draw her in my interpretation of what she’d wear in the Fateswap AU. I have a whole boatload of ideas for how it’d go, but that’s for later.

Some extra reference pics ✨

anonymous asked:

I need a scene where Jake is sad so to cheer him up Amy gives him a picture of her and Charles from when they wore the same outfit while Jake was undercover

oh my god, i feel like…i feel like gina’s definitely involved too

like she’s the one who took the picture in the first place (bc there was no way amy was going to pose for a picture with charles, even if charles was all for it)

So Amy’s tried everything - cracked the dumbest jokes, gotten the junkiest foods, even broke down and bought blue soda - but nothing is working and she’s starting to get genuinely worried about her morose boyfriend currently pretending not to mope in the break room.

She walks up to Gina’s desk, heart thumping, feeling more like she’s approaching a drug ring’s kingpin than the civilian administrator. Come on, Amy, you have a gun in a holster on your hip, get it together.

“Gina.” She says as forcefully as she dares.

“Huh?” Gina grunts, eyes never once wavering from the computer screen before her.

“I…I need your help with something.”

This seems to pique Gina’s interest. Without moving her head, she looks sideways at Amy. 

Watching. 

Judging. 

Waiting.

“I need a picture…of me and Charles, from that time we wore the same outfit to work while Jake was undercover.”

Gina turns her head, but remains stoic. “I don’t have a picture of that.”

See, Amy knows this is a lie - Gina’s too neutral about it, too emotionless. Gina spent a solid twenty minutes howling with laughter in the break room on that day, there’s no way she doesn’t have a picture. “Gina, please. I need it.”

“Not that this is me admitting I have it, but what the hell do you need a picture like that for? Are you surrendering yourself to the fashion police? They won’t take you, I’ve already tried.”

“What? You - you sent pictures of me to -” Amy stops herself. This is a classic Linetti Diversion Tactic if she’s ever seen one; as she reigns herself back in, she notes the gleeful glint in Gina’s gaze. “Nevermind. I just need that picture. Please.”

“Why?”

“Because Jake’s really sad about his dad standing us up for dinner last week, and I’ve been trying to cheer him up, but nothing’s working. And he laughed so hard when you guys told him about that after he got back from being undercover, and…I hate seeing him like this. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make him happy again, even if it’s completely humiliating for me.”

Gina purses her lips and narrows her eyes, before leaning back in her seat. She seems to consider Amy for a moment, fingers drumming along the back of her phone where it lays face-down on the desk. Amy holds her breath.

“Fine. Here, I have four different pics of that, pick your favorite and I’ll send it to you.”

Amy has to force herself to focus on the win and not on the brief bubble of outrage at the fact that Gina’s been sitting on four photos for nearly three years documenting the most embarrassing moment she’s ever been apart of at the Nine-Nine.

She chooses the one where the barest hint of outrage has begun to blossom across her own face, the one where Charles’ confusion has begun to melt into an apology, the one that Gina says her butt look really good in.

“Hey,” Jake greets her as she crosses the threshold into the break room. He’s seated, shoulders slumped, looking pathetically put-out even through the familiar spark in his eye that only ever appears when he locks eyes with her. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bummer lately. I know how hard you’ve been working to make me feel better, and…I’m really sorry. You’ve been incredible and amazing as usual, and I don’t want you to think that this -” he gestures down over himself “- has anything to do with you. I just - I always get in a little bit of a funk after my dad pulls a Roger.”

Amy feels her phone buzz in her back pocket as she slides into the seat next to him and covers the back of his hand where it rests against the table with her own. “I know it’s not about me.” She says, giving him what she hopes is an encouraging smile. “And I completely understand about your dad. I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to make you feel better, but I totally get that this is something you have to work through on your own. Just know that I’m here for you no matter what, and I’ll continue to be here when you start feeling better again.”

He releases a low sound, a kind of grunt, and then leans forward to capture her lips in a soft, brief kiss. “I love you.” He sighs when he leans away.

“I love you, too. I actually came in here to try one last thing to try to make you feel better, but if you want I can just leave -”

“No, no, I don’t want you to go.” He covers her hand with his free hand, so that her hand is sandwiched between both of his own. “What were you gonna do?”

“I was gonna show you a picture,” she says, and then she stops as heat begins to rise up her neck.

Jake’s eyes flick from hers to two inches to her right, and then they widen. “You’re blushing, your ears are turning red, what’s the picture? Oh my God, it’s an embarrassing picture, isn’t it?” He gasps, and then twists in his seat so that he’s facing her more fully. “Am I finally gonna see Drum Major Amy?”

“No.” Amy says sharply. He deflates, but only a little. “This is actually from back when you were undercover.” She explains as she pulls her phone out from her back pocket. “Gina had this, and I thought…well, I thought you’d definitely appreciate it.”

She taps the image to make it full screen and then slides the phone toward him, pulling her hand from between his so he can pick the phone up. He gasps sharply again, and then a laugh bursts right out of his throat. The sound seems to startle him, but even with one hand clapped over his gaping mouth, his eyes never leave the phone screen. “Oh my God.” He says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God, you guys are - you are literally wearing the same outfit.”

“I know.”

“This…this should be in a museum. It should be framed and it should be right next to the Mona Lisa. I mean this is art -”

“This was a mistake. I can see that now.”

“I mean it, Amy, this should be hung over a fireplace in some rich man’s cabin in the woods -”

“Alright, that’s enough -”

“Why does that color look so good on Charles?”

Jake!” 

Ero in cassa che aspettavo di pagare la mia roba quando una signora si accorge di non aver pesato il pane bloccando così la fila.
La cassiera mi guarda e timidamente mi fa: “Saresti così gentile da aspettare un momento la signora?”
“Tranquille, stamattina ho tempo”
Le facce delle tizie si illuminano manco avessero visto Ryan Gosling avvolto da dei Rotoloni Regina bagnati e semitrasparenti.
“Sentito? Ha tempo il ragazzo, che meraviglia. Io non ho una mattina libera da quando ho memoria”
Poi, con gli occhi ancora sognanti e con pensieri erotici da tempo libero passato in pigiamone a casa mi salutano.
Ulteriore prova che il lavoro non ti paga per il servizio che dai alla società, ma per succhiarti via il tempo peggio di una vietnamita in Apocalypse Now.