[gabecarter-blog1]

stellaochoa‌:

“I am pretty sure that widowers are supposed to be depressed, not eccentric, dumbass,” Stella started curtly, but with a fondness behind her words she knew he would sense instantly. Especially with how much he’d been forced to decipher what were jokes and not with her over the years. “I’m putting a set of that dude’s paintings in the gallery as a featured artist this week, but he’s just…so fucking weird. Two days ago, when we meant for the first time, he told me my skin looked so smooth, but the word lasted like…eight seconds. If you want serial killer vibes, I’m sure he could give you some pointers.”

“Well yeah, but that goes without saying, dumbass.” Gabe joked right back, bumping into her at the same time he slid his hands around her waist. “You also have to either develop a weird personality absorbing hobby- just look at my dad- only his hobby was neglecting children and I think I’d probably pick something like model airplanes or stamps. Just something to make sure that I never forget about you because I’ll never find someone willing to date me ever again.” He joked, only for his smile to fade as he glanced over his shoulder at the man who was, disconcertingly, still watching them. “Oooohkay, so what I’m hearing is we’re not walking straight home from here.”

[gabecarter-blog1]

sofie-monroe‌:

Her echoing steps stopped short; a thunder and a half tap as Sofie came to a halt, slowly she turned her head back to look behind her. Pulling her skirt over the curve just above her thighs Sofie lowered her gaze. “Were you just checking out my ass?”

Gabe blinked as a voice registered to him in whatever dissociative work-fueled fugue he’d been stuck in, registering her words a few moments late, only to give unpleasant jolt. “Whoah what? No! I mean, I was zoning out and staring in your general direction so I guess it’s possible I was, but if I was I wasn’t actually staring at your-” Fumbling a little he quickly held up with left hand, pointing to the ring. “I’m married. Happily. So the only girl’s butt I perv on is hers.” 

[gabecarter-blog1]

jcmisonc‌:

          “Okay, let’s start from the beginning. Could you maybe, tell me again what happened?” While, the police scanner in his cruiser reported there had been a robbery, Jamison was still required to get the persons’ full story. Only then, could he formulate a more in-depth report and start looking into possible suspects which usually consisted of complete strangers or someone close to the victims. The latter was often more commonly heard of, believe it or not.

Gabe didn’t like cops. Maybe it was his skin color, maybe it was being raised poor, maybe it was the group home he’d been taken to by a cop, maybe it was all the weed he’d smoked in college, but he had what he referred to as a healthy distrust of cops. Still, he’d figured he’d needed to call in the ‘mugiging’- if that’s what you called the little punk who snatched his wallet out of his pocket and took off. He’d chased him, but Gabe spent his time coding, not running, and he’d quickly lost him. “All I’m saying is I lived in L.A. for thirty years, moved to a southern small town and within the first week someone steals my wallet. Irony is a bitch.”

[gabecarter-blog1]

cami-halstead-riley‌:

Cami pulled the strap up the slope of her shoulder and blew a tuft of hair away from her face. A small hiccup heaved her chest up and she shook her head waving a hand in front of her face. “This is the first time I’ve been out in eight years and my friends ditched me after-” Cami paused holding her fingers up in an attempt to count. Frustrated she curled her fingers in and huffed, “too many tequila shots.” Laughing bitterly the woman covered her face and shook her head. “I’m a mother to an eight-year-old… I have stretch marks! I have no business being in this dress- or these ridiculous heels…or complaning to you. I’m so sorry.”

Gabe, who had realized that the stranger was talking to him somewhere in the middle of ‘too many tequila shots’, nodded slowly, looking around for someone who knew her, or was at least watching the situation with as much confusion as he was. Guess this is what living in the south is like. He thought to himself, clearing his throat and leaning towards her slightly. “You’re good. Man, where is the loyalty nowadays?” He agreed with a grin, thinking of all the times his own college roommates had left him at some bar or frat house. “Have you tried calling them? Maybe it was an accidental abandonment.”

[stellaochoa-blog]

“Oh, hi!” Stella turned to a familiar looking face with a look of gratitude, scooting away from the person she’d been previously conversing with to stride over to clasp her arm inside the other’s. “I’m so glad to see you, lo juro por mi vida–I didn’t know how much longer I could be in that conversation.” 

[gabecarter-blog1]

Giving his wife a warm grin, he waited until they’d taken several steps away before he let the expression drop, shooting a disturbed look over his shoulder to make sure the person was out of earshot before he whispered “Who the hell was that, and why were they looking at you like that? I came over because I was pretty sure they were about to try to actually murder you and I don’t have the eccentricity or serial killer vibes to be a widower.”

[gabecarter-blog1]

-tag dump

[kim-jisoo]

[henryscavills]

[thcrin]

[userboxer]

[brooklyn99]

[ceecil]

[dwightkschrute]

[twerkingsharks]

[discworldwisdom]

He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart.

Night Watch (Terry Pratchett)