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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 4 years

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“Make Your Own Kind Of Music” -- Alice Macray

A/N: I can’t get Alice’s impending transformation out of my head, so this happened. Big huge thanks to @thatgirlintheleatherjacket for convincing me not to give up on this and dealing with my whirlwind of emotions. Also please bear with me, I wrote this in under 24 hours and there are probably typos.

**This was written after having only seen the first three episodes of Mrs. America, so it is inevitably canon divergent**

Words: ~3,700

~Enjoy!~

“I think you should wear the pink one. You know how much I love it on you.”

Alice smiled at the sentiment, pulling the blush blazer from its hanger.

“Well, alright then.”

She slid it on, tugging at the sleeves and tucking it around her skirt. Buck was silent as she walked to her vanity, eyes following her every move. And when she felt the heat of them, she hastily changed the subject.

“Remember that that pot roast is in the oven and should be done in about fifteen minutes. The children should be doing their homework, and they can put themselves to bed. Do you need anything else before I go?”

He hummed, ogling her from the doorway. “No no. It’s just that Phyllis is here to see you.”

And right on cue, she breezed past Buck into the room.

Alice glanced up from her vanity. “I apologize for not greeting you at the door, it’s just that I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Phyllis waved her off, seemingly distracted by the cleanliness of her room. She slid her finger over the fireplace mantle, flicking the dust off. “I only came by to return the books you had leant me.” A pause. “Where are you going?”

“Oh just a quick appointment,” Alice said smoothly, checking her hair in the mirror. “Where are the books?”

“Downstairs,” Phyllis said absently, walking around the room and testing multiple surfaces with her finger. “What kind of appointment?”

Alice swallowed. “Oh, did I say appointment? I meant a family obligation. I apologize.”

Again.

“A family obligation? Isn’t Buck going with you?”

Alice waved her off. “No no, it’s just a home visit.”

“Oh,” Phyllis quirked her brow, picking at a chip on her windowsill. “Well I’m more than happy to stay over and take care of dinner, if you need the extra help.”

Alice forced a smile, straightening out her blazer. “I think Buck can handle the children for one night.”

“Well, let’s hope so, since you’re not giving him much of a choice.”

Alice turned, forcing herself to take a breath as she rummaged for her earrings. “Was there anything else?”

She didn’t miss the way Phyllis hesitated, watching her eyes narrow in the vanity mirror.

“No no,” she said quickly, covering her pause as she straightened. “I just thought I’d drop those vile things back to you. I almost sent them off with the garbage. No need having more women getting nonsense ideas. But I suppose you should be the one to make that decision.”

“Well yes, they are my books.” Alice turned back around, careful to hold her smile in place as she walked toward the door. She stood in the doorway, checking her posture. “Thank you again for returning them, I’d hate to take time out of your busy day.”

“Oh, well… Anything for my biggest booster.”

A light hand on her elbow and a kiss to her cheek, and Phyllis was gone.

And Alice hated herself for almost wanting to follow.

~~~

Alice paused in front of the large door, tugging at the hem of her blazer as her mind flipped back on itself for the hundredth time in the short ten minutes it had taken her to walk across town to the building.

She shouldn’t be here. She wanted to be here. She shouldn’t do this. She wanted to do this. What would Phyllis think? Why did she care? What would her family think? Her friends, her son...

But before she could remind herself that she was only here because she had been invited, reminded herself that it really didn’t mean anything at all, two women pushed past her to the door, giggling between themselves.

“Are you here for the meeting?” one of them asked, mouth pulled open in a huge smile.

Alice nodded carefully, looking between the woman and the handle of the door. “Yes, I’m-“

There was a hand on her arm, friendly, gentle, and Alice flashed back to all of the times Phyllis had smoothed a hand down her arm, over her elbow, pulling her up and keeping her steady.

But she was alone here. Entirely alone.

She couldn’t do this. This was all a huge mistake.

Alice had just managed to swallow around her fear and form some sort of excuse, when the door pulled open and she was hit with a wall of sound.

Everyone was bustling, everyone was moving. And everything was so colorful.

She blinked at the instant panic that clawed its way up her throat, smoothing down her blazer. And then there was a blonde woman in front of her, a huge smile in place.

“Alice?”

She managed a nod.

“I’m so glad you made it! I’m Jill, the one who sent you the letter?”

Alice tried for a smile, fighting the way her lips wobbled with nerves. “Oh! Oh well, it is so nice to meet you, Jill. I appreciate the invitation. It—“

And then Jill was being pulled away by a woman with piles of paper balanced in her arms. She mouthed an apology as she was dragged across the room, and Alice smiled softly and nodded. Her nose twitched as she watched the room. She was here. She had done the hardest part. She had arrived.

But now she was alone.

It occurred to her as she watched all of the women bustle around, laughing and joking and working around one another, that she hadn’t had the burden of making new friends in quite some time. Not without Phyllis there to guide her and encourage her and prompt her forward.

And right now, the idea of it seemed practically impossible.

Alice had just decided to leave, finding the doors and keeping her eyes on them to hold herself balanced. Her fingers played over her blazer, smoothing over the rough fabric as she took a few steps towards the exit.

Another hand on her arm.

“Leaving so soon?”

It was one of the girls that had greeted her in the hallway.

“Oh, I—“ Alice tried, tripping over her words as she plastered a polite smile on her face. “I just thought that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, and—“

She cut off then, unable to find a rational ending to her sentence.

She wanted to be here. She wanted to learn. She wanted to be more than she was supposed to be. More than just a housewife. More than everything.

The girl in front of her gave her a kind smile. “I think you’ll like the talk today. If you just stay for a few more minutes, it should get started.”

Alice found herself nodding before she knew what was happening.

The girl squealed. “Oh yay! Perfect! Alright well, sit wherever you want. There’s coffee over there,” she pointed past a group of women huddled around a table, “and Gloria brought doughnuts!”

Alice blinked. “Gloria? As in…?”

“Mhm! She should be around here somewhere…” The girl trailed off as she looked around the room. “She’s the speaker today.”

Phyllis’s voice in Alice’s head stopped her automatic response, making her pause. Scoffing over Gloria Steinem’s glasses at the salon. All of those words she had pushed into her newsletters. How sad it was that she didn’t have a husband to fulfill that hole in her life.

“She wouldn’t be scrounging for validation if she had a family who needed her.”

“Are you alright?” the girl asked, and Alice shook her head out.

“Yes, of course. I apologize. Thank you so much for all of your help.”

The girl nodded and made to leave, but then a shorter woman walked past and the girl grabbed at her arm.

“This is Flo, she’s your go to for any kind of food or drink or… anything really.”

Alice giggled, holding her hand out. “Hi, I’m Alice.”

And the smile that she received was so warm, Alice thought she might melt. “Flo,” the woman said, shaking her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Alice nodded just as someone shoved their way between them, four doughnuts stuffed in her mouth as she muttered.

“Damnit Betty, watch where you’re going!” Flo shouted, rolling her eyes fondly and pulling Alice over to the table. “I’d suggest you take a doughnut before Friedan eats them all.”

A shock went through Alice. “Friedan? Betty Friedan? That was her?”

Flo laughed, nodding. “Real and in the flesh.” She pushed the plate of doughnuts toward Alice. “Now eat.”

She almost grabbed one. She almost did. But then she paused, Phyllis’s voice nagging in the back of her head.

“I shouldn’t,” Alice said softly, offering a sad smile and shaking her head. “Thank you, though.”

But Flo only raised an eyebrow. “Honey. Take a damn doughnut. What are you afraid of?”

Who was she afraid of.

So she did, taking a small, polite bite. She hummed around a moan, relishing the sweetness. It had been entirely too long since she had allowed herself to indulge in something so delicious just for the sake of it.

“They’re delicious,” she said, covering her mouth and trying to swallow the sugar down. “Are they homemade?”

And the look Flo gave her, brows pushed up incredulously, had Alice wanting to crawl back into her shell. “No baby, they’re from the store. You know it’s not a woman’s job to bake everything, right? There are people who get paid to do that.”

“I think having homemade things are nice.”

Bella slid by, throwing a “You also thought Phyllis was nice” over her shoulder.

Alice spun around, hand coming up to her chest, but the woman was gone before she could manage a response.

And as she turned, eyes searching the room, they landed on a woman who stuck out like a gem.

Tall, long hair, dressed impeccably modern, aviators tucked over her ears as she nodded along with a conversation.

Gloria Steinem.

But it barely had time to register before people were pushing and someone was clapping and shouting for people to find a comfortable place to sit.

Flo walked over to a nearby desk, shoving a harsh woman out of her chair before catching Alice’s eye and patting the top of it.

So for the next twenty minutes or so, Alice sat on the hard edge of a desk, watching the other women sprawled out on the floor and envying their pants and light blouses and their sheer level of comfort. Comfort in their clothes, their friendships, their lives.

And as Alice listened to Gloria talk, all she could think about was Phyllis.

About how Phyllis talked. Lectured. So polished, refined, proper. Everything she stood for. Everything Alice had longed to be for so long.

And how Gloria talked, so raw, so unfiltered. With “fuck”s and “shit”s and crude language.

The first time the word had dropped from her mouth, Alice had flinched and Flo had laughed. But after that, every one of those vulgar words made her sit up straighter, hold her head higher. Built an empowerment in her that she didn’t know she was capable of.

Gloria talked for what felt like forever. What felt like three seconds. And Alice clung to her every word. But then Betty stood up and folded an argument into her point, and as they hashed out their differences of opinions, Alice found herself locking her eyes anywhere but on them.

She had never been one for conflict, but she felt especially uncomfortable about being witness to an argument that had clearly been brewing for some time, hashed out over what had to have been multiple meetings. And everyone seemed to have something to say, jutting in and taking sides and calling people out by name.

Alice pinned her eyes down on the desk, tracing the mess there and thinking absently that she should straighten it out for them, when something caught her eye.

It was one of Phyllis’s newsletters, buried under a pile of papers. And some sort of liquid had been spilt on it, because the ink had bled across the page and dried, crumpled and misshapen.

There was something about it, though. Something about the way that Phyllis’s face was disfigured, her smile morphed into something wicked and sickening, that made Alice almost grin. Phyllis wasn’t a queen here. She didn’t own these women.

They owned themselves.

~~~

Alice wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after Gloria finished speaking, a large group of women swarmed around her, their questions rapid-fire.

It started with a lot of “why did you decide to come” and “aren’t you that girl with the banana bread?”

Jill had jumped in, answering a few questions for her and defending her to these women. But the more Jill talked, the more specific their questions became. Until Jill couldn’t answer for her anymore and Alice was trapped in a whirlwind of ethical questions that she didn’t know the answers to.

She didn’t have Jill. She didn’t have Phyllis. She was left alone to fend for herself, and she was utterly ill-prepared.

“How do you feel about abortion?��

“I- I’m not sure...?”

“How do you feel about gay rights?”

“I don’t know, I-“

“What about racial equality?”

She paused.

Phyllis flashed through her mind, the smile that she had given Alice after letting her get pummeled by Frances. After lifting her up and stoking her ego and sending her to the ring to be slaughtered. For standing up for what she believed in. For standing up to that horrible, racist woman.

So Alice said what she would have never been allowed to say with her own group of friends. What Phyllis would have breezed past and glossed over and shamed her for. She told the truth.

“I think it’s important, and honestly I’m not sure why it’s still an issue.”

There was a long pause, and Alice held her breath as the women around her exchanged looks. And then—

“She’s one of us girls!”

A cheer erupted from the group, and Jill patted her on the shoulder, beaming.

“Somebody get her a button!”

Alice blushed as someone leaned forward, pinning an ERA button to her blazer. And as she scrambled for something to say, Gloria smiled.

“Now you’re one of us.”

One of them.

It felt good, being accepted. Making friends on her own. Making her own connections and deciding her own beliefs. Having a part of her life that was completely hers. Not Phyllis’s. Not her husband’s. Not her children’s.

Utterly and entirely hers.

But just as she made to say something, to thank them and tell them how much their gesture meant, a song filled the room.

One of them started it. She didn’t know which one. But suddenly there was a tune threading through the air — something familiar, but words that she didn’t recognize.

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the flame of women’s rage,”

And as soon as another voice joined, Alice pinpointed them, whirling on the sound.

“Kept smoldering for centuries, now burning in this age.”

Soon a group of four of them huddled in a corner and flicking through papers joined in, the sound breaking through the chatter and filling the room.

“We no longer will be prisoners in that same old gilded cage,”

And on the last line all of them joined in, Gloria passing around cups as she sang.

“That’s why we’re marching on!”

Alice found herself watching Gloria carefully, the way her smile lit up the room as she sang. How genuinely the words fell out of her mouth, with the crinkle of her eyes and the fire behind them.

She was jolted out of her daze by Flo’s hand on her arm.

“Come on, Alice. Sing with us!”

She held her hand up placatingly, adjusting her blazer and offering a small smile. “Oh, that’s alright. I— I don’t know this song.”

“It’s easy. Here, see?” she took Alice’s hands, looking her dead in the eye as she sang. “Move on over or we’ll move on over you. Move on over—“

“Or we‘ll move on over you,” Alice tried, nodding along with the gentle bouncing of her hands. The next line was the same as the first, and Flo smiled at her as she sang. But the next line changed, and Alice didn’t realize, and she messed up, and her hands slid from Flo’s.

She shook her head out. “I can’t— I shouldn’t—“

But Flo’s smile never faltered. She didn’t acknowledge Alice’s slip up. All she did was nod and lead Alice over to a couch, sitting down next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s alright. Just listen then, okay? Just listen.”

“You have told us to speak softly, to be gentle and to smile,”

Alice found her eyes wandering around the room again, at the way everyone was singing in unison. The way their arms were wrapped around each other, glasses raised high as they laughed and cheered.

“Expected us to change ourselves with every passing style.”

Alice tugged at her blazer again, swallowing roughly. Phyllis had picked it out for her. Was insistent that Buck would love it. And she had been right. But Alice hated it.

“Said the only work for women was to clean and sweep and file. That’s why we’re marching on!”

Something hit Alice like a brick, and she realized that she didn’t want to be wearing her blazer anymore. Didn’t want to conform to someone else’s definition of perfect. Of a woman. So she stood as the chorus came around again, unbuttoning it one snap at a time.

“Move on over, or we’ll move on over you,” Alice tried, singing softly under her breath as she unpinned her ERA button, fitting the pin into her silk shirt instead and not caring if it pulled the fabric. “Move on over, or we’ll move on over you.”

She could feel the eyes on her, Flo’s from the back, Jill’s from her right. And she met Gloria’s eyes across the room, watching her like a hawk as she folded her jacket and hung it over her arm.

“Move on over, or we’ll move on over you,” Alice sang again, a little bit louder this time, and Gloria nodded as she smirked.

“For women’s time has come.”

Someone nudged Gloria from the side and broke their eye contact, Gloria grinning at the woman and pulling herself off the wall to join a small group by the door. She swayed with them, singing the next part loudly. Almost baring her teeth.

“It is we who’ve done your cooking, done your cleaning, kept your rules.”

A woman slammed her cup down, making Alice jump as she screamed over everyone else.

“We gave birth to all your children and we taught them in your schools.”

Phyllis flashed through Alice’s mind again, her perfect figure, her six children. How easily she lost the baby weight. Like it was her job.

And then Jill was next to her, pulling the blazer from Alice’s arms and threading their fingers together.

“We’ve kept the system running but we’re laying down our tools,” she sang softly, tugging Alice over to the group at the front of the room with a smile.

“That’s why we’re marching on!” they all shouted in unison, cheering and taking a drink.

And Alice thought that she was starting to get the hang of it, taking a sip from Jill’s cup as the chorus came around again.

It didn’t take long for her eyes to find Gloria in the large group, surrounded by women and singing loudly as she laughed. Alice tracked her glasses, her long hair, her pants. And when she realized that Gloria was staring right back at her, she flushed a deep red.

Alice ducked her head as the next verse started, reaching to tug at her blazer before realizing it wasn’t there. She didn’t have anything to hide behind. Nothing to straighten, nothing to perfect.

Just herself, open and vulnerable and unprotected.

“You think that you can buy us off with crummy wedding rings,”

Alice’s thumb brushed her ring absently, Buck flitting through her mind before she brushed him away.

“You never give us half the profit that our labor brings.”

And then it was Phyllis, pushing her up to the podium and praising her accomplishments, and then sticking her out on the front lines to do all of her dirty work. Something hard settled over Alice’s heart, and she pursed her lips as she nodded with the next line.

“Our anger eats into us, we’ll no longer bend to kings,”

“That’s why we’re marching on,” Alice said, her voice firm. Because she was finished. She was finished bending and bowing and changing who she was based on what someone else decided she should be. She was finished.

Gloria’s arm was around her before she knew what was happening, squeezing Alice to her as everyone sang the next part loudly. Angrily.

“We have broken through our shackles, now we sing a battle song.”

And they all stomped in unison, raising their cups.

“We march for liberation and we’re many thousands strong,”

Gloria shouted “millions” over the chorus of “thousands” and Alice couldn’t help but giggle, letting herself be jostled by the woman’s arm around her shoulders. Gloria looked down at her, beaming, and grabbed her hand.

Someone one her other side grabbed her free hand and raised it in the air. Alice beamed.

“We’ll build a new society, we’ve waited much too long.”

Gloria squeezed her hand.

“That’s why we’re—“

“Marching on!” Alice yelled loudly, earning a huge cheer from the group.

And in that second, with everyone cheering for her, Alice found what she had been lacking this entire time. No. Not lacking. What had been suppressed within her, with every child she bore and every dinner she made and every curler she wore and every comment she swallowed.

Her freedom.

And when she sang the chorus one last time, practically screamed the words as anger and hurt and a need for justice boiled up inside of her, she felt free. She felt accepted. She felt heard.

And maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.

“For women’s time has come!”

#this song is everything and has absolutely been stuck in my head for a full week #battle hymn of women #alice macray #mrs. america #mrs america #sarah paulson #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #phyllis schlafly #gloria steinem #mrs america fanfiction #mrs america fanfic #mrs america imagine

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thorias · 7 years

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Random thoughts watching Riverdale episode 11

Hats off to the casting department. Molly Ringwald as Archie’s mom feels perfect. I’m having Breakfast Club flashbacks as I watch her and Archie together, and I mean that in a good way.

Hermione seems a little too happy about the prospect of Hiram getting out of prison, considering all the shit he’s pulled while behind bars. And that’s not even counting the shit he pulled before he went to jail. I’m with Veronica; why does anyone think Hiram being a free man would be a good thing at this point?

Jughead’s dad is smiling, sober, cleanshaven, acting pleasant to be around and... yeah, we know what show we’re watching by now. I’m not falling for this. Something horrible is about to happen, it’s just a question of how soon it happens.

FP’s line about how most things are both good and evil sounds prophetic to me. Definitely foreshadowing something about Jason’s death here, hinting that it probably wasn’t as simple as a typical murder.

Kind of funny how the show turns the guy-doesn’t-call-afterwards trope on its head with Archie wanting to talk to Veronica about what happened between them, but her being all, “Nah, I got other stuff going on right now. Maybe later.”

Alice points out that everyone is a suspect in Jason’s murder, even the Pussycats. Why mention the Pussycats specifically? Am I missing something?

Just when I thought the Blossoms couldn’t get any creepier, they’ve got a room with multiple redheaded wigs mounted on busts that look like Jason. This goes way beyond Cheryl sleeping in Jason’s bed. WTF has Polly gotten caught up in?

So some of the characters are starting to really suspect FP, which makes me think he’s going to be a red herring. He definitely knows something, but I don’t think he pulled the trigger. There’s a swerve coming.

Pretty tense meeting between Hermione and Archie’s mom. Did they just hint that Hermione bullied Mary in high school? I really hope this doesn’t turn into a love triangle with Fred.

Mr. and Mrs. Blossom’s sleeping quarters are out of bounds? My mind is going to some weird places with this. What’s Polly going to find in that room? Pod people? A torture dungeon? A transporter to take the Blossoms back to their home planet?

I feel like I should congratulate Archie for wearing a shirt when he goes to meet Veronica in the middle of the night, but wouldn’t just texting her have been easier? And quicker?

The wigs are Clifford’s? Yeah, sorry, it’s still creepy.

That’s the second time Penelope has encouraged Polly to drink that milkshake. What is in that thing exactly? Is Penelope poisoning Polly or just trying to make her, you know, “compliant?” I want to think Polly is smart enough to not drink those things, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

I don’t believe for a second that the milkshakes were just to put Polly to sleep for a while. This family is so twisted, there could be mind control drugs in those things.

Suddenly Clifford is all for Cheryl being the Blossom’s heir when just a few episodes ago, he was so sure she couldn’t handle it that he thought Cheryl having Archie with her would be a step up? What a load. Don’t fall for this, Cheryl!

Fred shows up to the Homecoming dance with a girl on each arm. Was this supposed to mirror Archie doing the same with Betty and Veronica in the pilot? Oh who am I kidding? Of course it was. Those Andrews boys sure do get around.

Kudos to Mary for not taking Alice’s bait when Alice mentions Fred and Hermione’s little dalliance. The ironic thing is that Alice actually wasn’t lying in this case. But it’s good to know that Mary isn’t the jealous type.

Is there a reason why the Pussycats aren’t playing at the dance? They play at every other function in this town, but not Homecoming? At least Archie doesn’t have to follow them this time. That’s got to do wonders for his stage fright.

Archie and Veronica actually sound really good together. I never shipped them in the comics, but there’s some real chemistry here.

Poor Betty just looks miserable, watching Archie and Veronica (probably for a couple different reasons). Betty I get, but why is Cheryl reduced to tears by this? Is Cheryl still harboring feelings for Archie? Why not? After all, everybody else in this town seems to be obsessed with the guy for one reason or another.

Wouldn’t it be funny if FP actually had a permit for that gun and a totally valid excuse for owning it? He’s been good enough about covering his tracks by now that I don’t think he’d leave evidence in his home like that (well, not anymore).

Why were the cops searching FP’s home in the first place? Don’t you need evidence or probable cause to get a warrant to do that? Where did this evidence come from?

Yeah, FP being the murderer is totally a red herring. I’m not buying this. And it is really suspicious that Sheriff Keller magically shows up at his trailer with a warrant that just appeared out of thin air. Where did the warrant come from?! You can’t get one of those just by asking for it! None of this adds up.

Does it seem like Jughead gets shit on a lot more than most of the other characters or is it just me?

Sheriff Keller got “an anonymous tip” about FP? Wow. How...... convenient.

I love how casually Cheryl puts the mirror next to Polly’s nose to make sure she’s still breathing. As if this is second nature, like the idea of her parents poisoning Polly to death would come as no shock to her at all.

FP’s being framed. Yup. Called it. I knew there was something screwy about that. Sheriff Keller just jumped up several spots on my list of murder suspects.

#jughead jones #1x11 #to riverdale and back again #riverdale

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