#all i had was sally in that scene on repeat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeysecretive · 3 months

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Okay, okay, I steal ideas, I quickly fall in love with fanfics... Please please take this for what it's worth, because I love what pops into my head and I can't not share it!

So, this time to suffer fic by @weirdozjunkary (MVA), and I'll write nonsense because I haven't watched Monsters vs Aliens from the word at all, and am following a completely my own plot that will unfold after the second part of the fanfic.

(Part two!)

(NOTE: I WROTE THIS IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE, AND DECIDED TO REQUEST IT IN A TRANSLATOR TO AVOID REWRITING IT ALL OVER AGAIN, SO THERE MAY BE MISTAKES!(THOUGH WITH MY LEVEL OF ENGLISH YOU'RE UNLIKELY TO FEEL THE DIFFERENCE LMAO))

ENJOY THE SHOW!

It was a cloudy day in May. It was dank and damp outside, and anyone who needed to go out for business in such weather was sure to wrap themselves in a raincoat or scarf, snorted now and then at the dampness and unpleasant wind.

Sonic, Tails and Shadow were not happy about the weather, so they sat in the GUN base and settled down on Sonic's bed and watched comedies on a homemade movie projector that the fox had made from a ruined microwave (Barry had given it to them). What better way to brighten up a dull, rainy day than with a funny movie and a bag of chips?

Knuckles refused to be entertained, disappearing into a roadside café, eating mugs of delicious hot cocoa and cakes prepared by the owner of the place. Guys did not insist on his choice, and decided to have fun in their own way. And now they watched movies with laughter, exchanging ideas or news every now and then.

But the cozy revelry was suddenly interrupted by General Acorn entering the room.

"–Enough of this nonsense, boys!" she exclaimed nervously, "I have something interesting to show you."

"–Uuuh, we've stopped at the most interesting scene..." Sonic grumbled unhappily, taking his equally frowning friends in his arms and following the chipmunk on his heels. He didn't want to go out his room at all, as the very realization that it was raining outside made him drowsy and drowsy. But he didn't want to disobey orders, and with the thought that GUN it would be worth it to hold off on all sorts of things, Sonic and company entered the observation room.

The General hurried to one of the monitors, giving an order to one of her subordinates.

Plumping herself into a chair, she began clicking hastily on the keyboard.

Finally finding what she needed, she brought up the image on the main screen hanging from the ceiling, large enough for Sonic to look at.

At first, nothing could be seen there but a desolate area: a small lake surrounded by sparse undergrowth. It was taken from a distance, but Sonic recognized the place - it was not far (though one has to figure out what "not far" means to a giant hedgehog...) from one of the small towns west of the GUN base. When he wanted to bask in the sun, Sonic would go there and bask on the soft grass that grew near the pond.

Now the place looked rather bleak, and judging by the swaying trees, it was also windy. Sonic shuddered at the dank sight. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to be there. Shadow and Tails seemed to share his feeling, shiver at little times.

But suddenly guys noticed a strange beam of light coming toward the clearing. It seemed to be some kind of meteorite or comet, but the light grew brighter and brighter, and it was already apparent that some object was flying from the sky at an oblique angle straight toward the waters of the lake. Finally, it crashed into the sand right next to the water, raising a huge column of mud and causing the lake to become very agitated and overflow its banks. At the same moment, the image began to glitch and shake, and finally went out.

"–We installed this camera a week ago so that Ollie" - Sally waved her hand toward one of the employees nervously monitoring some sort of signature on small work computers - "–could monitor the soil conditions in this county, since there have been repeated sightings of sudden flooding or ground instability. But ten minutes ago, we received this video from him."

"–I beg your pardon, ma'am!" shouted one of the soldiers running by "we've just been notified that the object MIGHT be emitting Chaos energy, causing interference throughout the area, but that energy is highly variable, and NOTHING like the signatures of the Chaos Emeralds."

The General looked worriedly at Sonic.

"–Okay Ron, I'll take that under advisement, you may go."

"-Yes, ma'am!"

She turned back to guys again.

"-The object in question may not be an emerald, but we have an obligation to find out its origin."

"- Is there any chance that it was an ordinary meteorite?" Shadow asked.

"Absolutely not. Meteorites have completely different radiation levels, and even if it was one of them, there would be no trace of the lake. Besides, the meteor shower hasn't been predicted for the next four months. I want to send the three of you away to inspect this scene in detail."

Hearing this message, Sonic groaned unhappily. The last thing he wanted to do was go outside in this weather, much less look for anything.

"- Ma'am, why don't you ask someone else to do it, say, send out a search party?"

The General looked at him sternly.

"- No one knows what we'll be facing. Besides, if it's not even an emerald, no one knows how to deal with Chaos energy better than you."-Sonic opened his mouth to speak-"... AND I WON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER! NO ONE CAN HANDLE IT BETTER THAN YOU BOYS, SO LET'S GET TO WORK!"

All three of them left the room and headed down the corridor towards the exit.

They were followed by "...- And please don't forget to take a couple good pictures!!!"

"And why does it have to be us, in this weather?" Sonic said indignantly.

Tails and Shadow silently shared his opinion. They both knew how much the hedgehog hated the cold. Truth be told, they didn't want to run out in the rain to some mysterious meteorite, shivering in the cold and pissing their feet in puddles.

"- Well, at any rate, the sooner we get out, the sooner we get in! We should try and just have a quick look around the place, and we'll be back home.... Unless, of course, something happens..."-Tails broke the silence.

Shadow nodded in agreement.

Ahead of his friends, fox cub went into his workshop. Sonic and Shadow stomped curiously at the entrance, watching him rummage through boxes of junk, sneezing from the dust.

Finally, his face brightened.

"-Hooray, I found it!"-Tails raised the device, which looked like a game joystick with a screen, high above his head.

"-Very good, buddy, but what is it?" inquired Sonic.

"- It's a handheld device for tracking more or less powerful energy sources. It can be used to search for the energy signal of the Chaos Emeralds! I built it for just that purpose, but I haven't had to use it yet. Now I'll tweak it a bit, and we can easily find what we need."

On the occasion of the bad weather, Shadow and Tails had donned raincoats with warm linings. Looking at them, Sonic was quietly envious since GUN hadn't taken care of his warm clothes for such occasions. Seeing his dejected face, the fox cub comfortingly patted the big guy's boot.

"-Let's make this quick and get back home."

Sonic nodded his head.

"-Okay, you're right! There's nothing faster than me anyway."-he hummed.

Stepping outside, hedgehog whinnying as a hail of cold drops rained down on him. Gritting his teeth, Sonic put his friends on his shoulders and sped off.

After only a few minutes, he stopped next to a large crater of sand and mud.

Lowering his buddies to the ground, Sonic began to shake off the moisture fiercely of himself. While he dealt with this procedure, Tales was thoughtfully twiddling one of the buttons on his miracle device.

"These are settings for the beeping sound for better search efficiency," he explained to Shadow, who was looking over his shoulder.

Before they could say anything, Sonic's sneeze rang out across the neighborhood.

"Sorry, guys, I couldn't help it," the hedgehog muttered in confusion. Tails chuckled "–Hey, at least you're wearing a jacket after all!"

The little fox, without answering anything, went back to his search device.

Finally finished, he solemnly moved the gray slider and smiled proudly.

"BEEP--BEEP--BEEP--BEEP."

"- Wow, not bad for a meteorite!"- Tails even jumped up in surprise. "- I didn't expect the energy to be THIS strong..."

The fox slowly began to slide into the center of the crater.

"- According to my calculations, this energy could very well equate to the power of several emeralds!"

Finally finding himself in the middle of the crater he scratched the back of his head thoughtfully-"- Hmmmm.... Strange... It feels like the source of the signal is elsewhere.... And it's... Moving?!"-Shadow immediately landed next to Tails-"And what does that mean, fox?"

Foxy shook his head thoughtfully-"-I can say with certainty that there's nothing in that funnel."

"So you're saying that the meteorite grew legs and got out of here and went about its business?" Sonic laughed.

Both buddies frowned at him.

Sonic, realizing that his joke was not appreciated, pouted resentfully and walked away.

But suddenly he noticed that the sand around him was cut by a string of strange footprints. They were clearly Mobian, but they were extremely erratic, as if the person getting out of the funnel had been spinning or drunk. The footprints were already half-drenched in rain, but they were still visible. And they led toward the woods.

"- GUYS, I FOUND SOMETHING INTERESTING!"- Sonic took turns picking up his friends in a pinch and placing them near his find.

Immediately a dead silence hung around.

"-Hey guys, don't you think...?" whispered Tails.

Shadow slapped his forehead-"-WHY DIDN'T WE THINK OF THIS SOONER?! WHILE WE WERE GONE, ANYONE COULD HAVE GOTTEN IN HERE AND STOLEN THE EMERALD-"

"-No, wait!" Tails interrupted him excitedly, "This energy is nothing like Chaos! Maybe..."

All three of them looked at each other.

"Does Neo have any relatives?" whispered Sonic.

"LET'S GO FIND HIM BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!" Shadow was the first to rush out of his seat. The others, after a moment's hesitation, rushed after him.

***

Were the aliens going to take over the world again? We'll find out next time!

#mva au #MVA #sonic the hedgehog #mv agusta #mva #monsters vs aliens #sonic characters #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #knuckles the echidna #tails the fox #fanfic #my fic #my story #sonic fic

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helpallthenamesaretakenblog · 3 months

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EPISODE 6 (just realised no one is asking me to do this too bad) spoilers for series up ahead

ITS NOT A MUSICAL EPISODE 😭

Disney was too broke to show us the animals in the zoo truck WHYY

why am i so happy for the second seaweed brain, man the things being a pjo fan does to you

The way you could see luke’s smile drop when they say that they found the lightning thief (:) —> :/)

The way luke didn’t even let them finish he was like “CLARISSE YES CLARISSE SHE MUST BE THE ROBBER”

No one’s talking about “Chiron should arrest her” Not the mental image of chiron holding a gun saying “ANY WORD CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU IN COURT” while clarisse is pushed into a police car lollll

Old married couple im falling out of my chair plsssss if luke did something right in his life it was this

i love annabeth’s face like she knew this was coming the older brother-sister dynamic is POPPING

Disney really needed a way to show that grover liked animals and had convos with them without actually showing them lol

cue the “omg animals are so elegant” speech which served nothing at all

WHATS THE POINT OF ZEBRA TO VEGAS IF THERE AIN’T NO ZEBRA MR HOUSE OF MOUSE????

Idk but i kind of miss the trio action so far this show has only been percabeth + grover instead of percy + annabeth + grover you can tell they’re focusing more on fan service and developing percabeth than developing the more important dynamics which are the three of them having fun

oh HELLO RANDOM CAMEL WHO ISNT EVEN A ZEBRA BUT WHATEVER

“You are two seconds ahead of meeee” the simp eyes the simp eyes

The lotus casino from the outside is so COOL

LEVITATING BY DUA LIPA (some of yall still stuck in poker face era so im leaving it at that)

WISE GIRL I REPEAT WE GOT WISE GIRL (i was honestly expecting it to sound super corny on screen but walker pulled it off like he always does)

look im so mad about the fact that there’s no montage of them being silly little kids and having fun at arcade games. It hits so hard since percy has never afforded to visit fun places, annabeth has never left camp so is absolutely thriving with her architect games, grover is hunting down humans which was so funny and cool and they decided to make it more serious and plot centred

”ill take percy this way” WHY CAN’T GROVER TAKE PERCY THAT WAY HUH ANNABETH? 🤨 (girl just say you want to spend time with him)(and disney say you just wanna write more percabeth scenes)

I love the ‘if you dont know, i dont know either 😄’ mentality that percy has, he knows annabeth wants to be in charge now so he’s just feeding into the hubris

The augustus plot was so weird ngl but it was a great way to introduce the pan stuff

“Biaannncaaaaa biancaaaaaa” NICCOOOOOOO

He sounds so little and innocent and cute 🥺 im so sad now

GROVERRRRRR REMEMBERRRRRR

i gotta say, i guess that i was taken away by the people making fun of lin manuel miranda, but his acting was really really good

We got some may castellan exposition early

Percy thinking that the only thing he could do to sally was hurting her 🥹

i really hope they talk about that later on, you know we love some angst around here (especially with the dreams of the headmaster which was from the books!!! I was thinking that they’d cut it! But they didnt!! But it speaks volumes about percy that he has nightmares of headmasters)

I WANT ANNABETH FLASHBACK ANGST

annabeth pickpocketing the god of thieves will forever be her girlbossiest moment

”Im multitalented” percy: 😍💙🥰🥹 🤩(walker’s acting be that amazing is it not obvious by now that percy likes annabeth)

“Who’s grover ☺️?” “Wait, i know grover 😅!” Walker is cementing himself in the percy throne every single episode

”wow grover got really old😃”

“you lose sight of what’s important when you’re alone” “we weren’t alone 🥰” poor grover

The eons long wait to see how percy was hugging while falling the way down is finally over

The way that you can see percy’s empathy shining through his eyes as grover talked about pan>>>> (honestly tho, hug!)

the way they focused on percy’s reaction, i know this is going to be something he brings up as a reason for him to sacrifice himself for hades

Percy and annabeth looking at grover like “ ok mr. 24 DRIVE US”

Percy trying to drive a car will forever be cinema and comedy peak

The road rage this child has its so funny BEEP BEEP

annabeth: 😁 percy: 🥹 *cutely crashes car and almost kills her* PERCY IS TRULY GIVING A LOSER BOY WHO HAS NEVER HAD A GIRL LOOK AT HIM AND THATS SO PERCY OF HIM

the heartbreak in percy’s eyes alexa play the moment i knew by taylor swift

Four pearls?? *cue that one meme where that girl is calculating*

the way my smile faded when i saw annabeth hanging over the cliff TOO SOON RICK TOO SOON

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lukecastellanshandholder · 3 months

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Ok, I’ve been seeing a lot of opinions on the last episode and especially about the betrayal scene, so I just wanna share how I interpreted it. (And this is not me trying to be disrespectful of people’s opinions at all, I’m just sharing how I feel about the whole scene).

⚠️Obviously spoiler warning for episode 8⚠️

I really think that the changes made to this scene alone were perfect and actually builds upon what will happen in the books. Luke not immediately wanting to kill Percy makes much more sense considering that first and foremost, the entire base of Luke’s reason for wanting to dismantle Olympus, and take the gods out of power, is because he is tired of seeing demigods being treated poorly by their parents. He’s tired of seeing demigods dying left and right just because their parents are too selfish to think about anything other than what they want. He’s tired of the gods (to use the words of Medusa in ep.3) being bullies who believe that they can do no wrong, and who will punish even their own children when they feel threatened or they feel like their pride has been wounded.

Remember Hal? In The Diary of Luke? The first demigod that Luke had to see die because of the way his father punished him unfairly, simply for using his powers to save a friend? The first demigod of whom soon would be many that Luke is unable to save?

If Luke’s whole original meaning behind wanting to bring down the gods was to save demigods like himself, Hal and Thalia; then why would he automatically be trying to kill Percy? It makes much more sense that he originally just wanted to recruit Percy to his side! Besides, why kill Percy when he could potentially have the most powerful demigod alive (that anyone knows of) on his side? He would be absolutely stupid to not take that opportunity and Luke isn’t stupid, he’s actually pretty smart.

So yeah, I’m pretty ok with them leaving out the whole scorpion thing (no matter how much I liked it for joke purposes).

Then we have the fact that this Percy who obviously thinks and feels the same as Luke, still didn’t join Luke in the end.

Yes, Percy feels the same way about the gods. He still doesn’t care for them even after what Poseidon did. However, the main reason that Percy in the show doesn’t join Luke, even when he’s not actively trying to kill him, is because of his up bringing. Because of Sally. They make it a big point in episode 5 and 7 to point out that Sally had been keeping Percy from the world of the gods because she didn’t want them to make him into someone he’s not. She didn’t want to expose him to that world without him first knowing who he truly is and showing him unconditional love. How a family is really supposed to treat each other.

Then, we have Luke. Luke didn’t have any of that. He was only 9 months old before being thrust into the mythical world. All his life he had been exposed to the world of the gods. He never had a mother who was all the way there to show him how family is supposed to behave. He didn’t have any sort of strong pillar there for him. He didn’t have any chance to just take the time to find who he truly was without any influence from the gods. So, Luke fell into the trap of repeating history again.

Percy is able to see this. He’s able to see what Luke is talking about and he’s able to sympathize with him.

But, there is one main difference between them both. Luke knows exactly how the gods are. Having been exposed to their world for so long, he knows how things truly go and the lengths that they would have to go to for any real change to be made. Percy on the other hand, may have been taught a lot by Sally, but he is still naïve when it comes to the gods and how they really work.

Percy still thinks that change can be made without going to such lengths. He still has hope. He’s stubborn and willful to a fault. But most importantly, he’s still a young kid who has just began his journey and who unfortunately hasn’t even seen or felt a fraction of the horrors that this new world has to offer. He still feels like he can be this hero who saves everyone and make everything ok. He still thinks that he can save Luke.

However, as the prophecy says, "you will fail to save what matters most in the end". And if that thing that "matters most" is Luke, then he is technically the first person that Percy can not save. It is the start of Percy’s journey as a hero.

So, yes. Percy still deciding not to join Luke makes sense. Besides, Percy now has Sally back and he has his friends. He still has so much to lose and he knows that he would lose them if he joined Luke. With Percy’s fatal flaw being loyalty, even if it meant that the world would be 100 times better, he would still choose the people he cares about over anything. This is something that we see become more apparent about Percy as the series goes on so it’s cool to see that already being a factor more early on in the story.

And lastly, we have the inclusion of Annabeth being there to hear everything.

I personally don’t know why people are saying that it throws off how she’s supposed to feel about Luke as we go further into the story?

I mean, in the book Annabeth hears about what happened from Percy. When she first hears about it she’s in shock obviously, but when she takes a minute to think about it and get over that initial shock, she still believes Percy. After their first quest, Annabeth has grown to trust Percy so there’s no reason why she would doubt what he says. Yet, throughout the series she still knows deep down that there is a legitimate reason why Luke is doing what he’s doing. She also knows that most of this is caused by Kronos and that Luke is just being used as a puppet.

So, just because she heard everything that was said, doesn’t mean that she can’t still have the same kind of feelings. It doesn’t mean that she can’t feel sympathy for the person who she looked at as a big brother. It doesn’t mean that she can’t understand Luke and what he’s doing. I’d even argue that her hearing what he said would cause her to understand even more. And since they removed the whole thing about Annabeth having a crush on Luke, I feel like her being able to understand what’s truly going on is even more important since we won’t have her blindly following him because of her crush on him.

So my overall verdict? I personally feel that every change made in this specific scene actually makes more sense and flows into what will happen throughout the rest of the story even more.

#now I’m not saying that I liked every change in the series #I have changes that I really didn’t like #but as far as this scene?#it was perfect in my personal opinion #but this is just my opinion and this is not me trying to say that anyone’s thoughts and opinions are wrong!#I just wanted to share what I thought of it 💜#luke castellan #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson tv show #pjo

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lyranova · 19 days

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If you're still doing the salty ask game, can you do 4, 9, 12, and 19

Hiya Luce! Yep i’m still accepting requests for the salty ask game, and I apologize this took me a bit, I kind of went on a rant for number 19! Also I answered two of these for Black Clover and two for FFVII! I hope you enjoy!

4 Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?*

I’ve answered this a couple of times for BC already and I don’t feel like repeating myself again so I’m going with FFVII this time 😆; and my biggest NoTP is Cloud x Aerith, and yes they are a very popular OTP 😅. I just really like them as friends, family, or platonic soulmates whose love is different then that of romantic partners love! Also right behind that is Zack x Tifa and thats because it feels like people are just “pairing the spares” 😔.

(As I always say; if you ship these ships then good for you, and I fully support you in loving these ships!)

9 Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Hmm…in Black Clover? I guess aside from the usual suspects (Sekke, Auggie, Alecdora, etc) it would have to be; Jester, Sally, and Damnatio.

Jester…I like him in fanon, but dislike him in canon. In canon he’s annoying to me and not in a fun and “gremlin” way like in fanon (or at least, in mine and my mutuals fanon 😆). I really just didn’t vibe with him in the movie and couldn’t wait for him to disappear 😔.

Sally is also more of a “i don’t vibe with them”. She’s just very…extra? But not in a good way. And imo she takes things too far and comes off as annoying like Jester. I’ve tried to like her, i really have, but she just doesn’t vibe with me at all.

Damnatio is amazing in fanon! But in canon? He comes across as a bit…boring when compared to other characters in the series, at least to me. Maybe it’s intentional on Tabs part, or maybe its because we don’t see him very much, but to me he is very blah and uninteresting as a character (even tho his magic is kind of cool)!

12 Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

Hmm…I guess the Devil Believer arc in BC? Thats really the only unpopular arc i can think of 😅. To me the concepts and ideas it introduces are interesting (such as showing us what happened on the ground during the elf invasion, showing us directly how those with very low mana are treated in the country, etc;) even tho they weren’t executed very well. I feel like that arc had/has a lot of potential in it, so I do enjoy it despite its many…many, many faults!

19 What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

Since there isn’t anything in the BC fandom that I hate, I’ll go with another fandom that I lurk in which is FFVII! The thing I hate most about it is the toxicity, ship wars, and character hate!

My poor mutuals have had to hear me complain about it many times recently, but its just…so freaking bad rn! I’m trying to find cute art, fics, and headcanons but instead all I see are people arguing about song lyrics, words and meanings and context in scenes, and even going as far as to threaten and argue with the writers and developers of the game (hell and even some going as far as to argue and threaten streamers and gamers over their freaking fan theories)😭! Like I get it, this happens in every big fandom, but maybe its because I’ve been in a small one for so long…but this is just a bit much and kind of took a lot of the joy I had for the game away (There is a lot of good and fun in the fandom too, its just a little harder to find these days)!

And the ship wars are just, really, really terrible (it doesn’t help that they’ve been going on for nearly 30 years!)! Again, I understand this is in every big fandom with a bunch of popular ships, but really is it that hard to scroll past or block and ignore 😭?? I just don’t see the point in arguing about them; you like what you like, i like what I like, and let’s just agree to disagree! This is another one of those “I’ve been in a small fandom too long” because most of the mutuals and people I follow either scroll past when they see a ship they don’t like, or they go “I may not like it, but I see how much you do, and I support you in that!”.

The character hate…*sigh* again, I get it and I know not everyone is going to like the same characters…but there comes a point where its too much! When you have to mischaracterize them completely, or point to scenes that the writers have gone back and changed/retconned/removed in order to “prove how much of a terrible character they are”, or you have to focus on this one “terrible thing” that particular character did while ignoring the terrible things that other characters did…just shows me that you’re willing to make up whatever you want in order to excuse your useless hate for that character! (You can literally just go; “eh I don’t vibe with them/they’re not my cup of tea” and leave it at that 😭!!)!

#asks #luce #my lovely mutuals #salty ask game #thanks for asking!#black clover

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jtkys · 8 months

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Can we hear your sally face headcannons? :)

𝖮𝖧 𝖬𝖸 𝖦𝖮𝖣 𝖸𝖤𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖢𝖠𝖭 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖱 𝖬𝖸 𝖲𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖸 𝖥𝖠𝖢𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲！！！ 𝖣𝖮 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶 𝖧𝖮𝖶 𝖫𝖮𝖭𝖦 𝖨𝖵𝖤 𝖶𝖠𝖨𝖳𝖤𝖣 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖲 𝖬𝖮𝖬𝖤𝖭𝖳？？？

𝖲𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋 “𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾“ 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌！

（𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖳𝖶／𝖢𝖶 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗁．）

Mlm t4t transmasc dude. Sorry ladies and cis gays, HES FOR US 🗣️🗣️🗣️ (I’m self projecting)

contrary to popular opinion, I don’t think he does drugs. Sure he isn’t the most well mannered, prestigious guy around but it’s just not his thing imo

loves trying out different hairstyles, let’s ash and Megan decorate his hair with clips and stuff because it makes him feel pretty and they enjoy it too!!

Yes, he wears dresses (canonically) and skirts. Yes, he’s a trans dude. What are you gonna do about it??

I hc hes neurodivergent in some way. Probably has autism, but he doesn’t really care. He gets on with his life either way

Despite being transmasc, he’s open to people using any pronouns for him. He doesn’t really care how he’s perceived by others all that much

listens to heavy metal no I won’t elaborate

Has probably had/wanted to try out a scene hairstyle, and he’s probably had a raccoon tail once

decorates his prosthetic in stickers sometimes and lets Meg do the same

Used to struggle a lot with self harm, but is a lot better thanks to Larry. ( usually consisted of him either cutting or burning his thighs. My poor boy :< )

Probably has a few juggalo/juggalette friends.

Cue that TikTok audio: “That’s not a party clown, that’s my juggalo friend”

overall anyone who’s “weird” or would get barked at in public, he deems cool and people he wants to be friends with

I personally headcanon that whenever he takes the prosthetic off to sleep, he wears a sleep mask and has most of the blanket covering his face.

That’s half out of the fact that his face is sensitive and he’s adjusted to having something covering it, but also just incase someone sees his face when he’s not awake.

teensy crush on Travis. He’s aware of it, but he’s not sure what to do about it.

Random but really fucking enjoys spicy food.

I hc this because when he was in hospital after “the accident” they tube fed him (because of the bandages) just protein and nutrients that he needed, which tasted really bland, so any plain food brings him back memories of that.

Really despises people who make fun of others. As in if you make fun of alternative, gothic, etc people he automatically won’t like you.

he enjoys fnaf and obsesses over matpat and markiplier shut up its canon

More of the autism hc, he repeats phrases he hears so this motherfucker just randomly says “but that’s just a theory.. a GAME THEORY”

Avid minecraft player. Also plays royal high with ash 😭💀

AND ENDS UP ENJOYING IT TOO

he has MDD (major depressive disorder) and GAD (generalised anxiety disorder) so he sometimes struggles with taking care of himself, but he’s very consistent with taking care of his skin on his face and his hair.

His face because if medical reasons, the tissue and skin overall can tear and get infected really easily so he has to be insanely careful and gentle.

His hair- I mean because he just hates the feeling of having greasy hair. He can’t stand it (sensory issues gang)

>>>

𝗂 𝗁��𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝖿 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗈．． 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 :3

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death-himself · 3 months

Text

alright episode 7 thoughts, i don't know how to feel about this episode because it had both my favorite changes so far and my least favorite

procrustes' outfit was fucking VILE, it was godawful but so perfect, and honestly good casting too I think

I feel mean saying this, but does crusty's actor naturally look like that or was it makeup, because his wrinkles seem at least a bit exaggerated or maybe I'm just not used to old people looking old on tv

ok the waterbed looked cool, but I'm so mad they didn't kill him. It's probably another way to get around disney censorship but come on live a little

also the entrance to the underworld being in his mattress shop?? are you fucking serious

this is the first change that I've actually hated, like what the fuck

the entrance being in a record shop is funny and it makes sense because records/vinyl are sort of a dying fad, what's the reasoning behind the entrance being in a mattress shop???

I didn't really have many expectations for the crusty scene because it's not much of a thing in the books, but damn did that whole part annoy me

annabeth giving grover the stress ball was funny and made sense though, considering she couldn't have gotten it from waterland, and honestly her getting it from there doesn't really make sense in the first place

more about the earlier flashback, I have some thoughts about sally's characterization but I'll save it for later in this analysis

I get that all the dead lined up outside the wall makes more sense mythologically, but I'm too in love with the thought of having to sit in a record shop turned waiting room for eternity, it's just too funny to me

we didn't get charon's characterization :( I love charon in the books, I'm sad about that, justice for charon

the way cerberus just fuckin NOMMED grover, I don't think percy and annabeth freaked out enough about that, because I was freaking the fuck out

also I loved how they mentioned annabeth's dog as a kid, like that's how they should've been doing more of the exposition in previous episodes

having it be more of a background thing made it feel like a thing for the characters between the characters, instead of for the audience's sake

"it's in the dog" THAT HAD ME CACKLING he said it so dramatically with the dramatic music but it sounds so stupid I was dying repeating it to myself for so long

I LOVE what they did with the fields of asphodel, it was so creepy, and the implication that all the trees used to be people, it's so much creepier than just a bunch of people wandering around

I feel like it's a concept that's been done before somewhere, but I don't care, it's a cool concept

and then annabeth being rooted down by her regret, I feel like there should've been some beats between that and her explanation of the roots, but half hour episode, I've gotten used to the bad pacing by this point

also I'm assuming the regret has to do with running away from home? since her dad and their dog were mentioned and that's a whole thing in the book

maybe because athena's shown that she doesn't give a shit about annabeth, annabeth wants to give it another try with her dad? idk I'm just trying to think of what works logically tv series-wise

I didn't expect her using the pearl there, but honestly I think it works just fine, i have no complaints about that

percy and grover's interaction when they saw the bolt was so funny

and ok, I know they were gonna save percy's mom no matter what, but things have changed now that the solstice has passed. Zeus is already gathering an army so why aren't they rushing??

i think how they could've fixed that is have grover take the bag to bring it back to zeus, then have percy go on his own to save his mom. then maybe when he comes back to the beach ares is already there and attacking grover and annabeth or something

grover didn't do anything when talking to hades so I just think that could've worked better

OK NOW ABOUT THE FLASHBACK I...don't like how they handled sally being a mom

yes, being a mom is tough and I like that they're showing that, but when your kid asks you "why are you trying to get rid of me" you don't fuckin kiss them and walk away! that causes issues!!

I know that she didn't want to cry in front of him, I understand why she was hurt by that, but you don't just leave after your kid asks that! especially with how young percy was, she needed to reassure him that she's not trying to get rid of him

am I not seeing something here?? is that just my own trauma ringing through or something?? that was such a horrible move like oh my god, I was waiting the whole episode after that for her to go back and apologize or explain or SOMETHING, but we didn't get that

now I understand that line from an earlier episode about loving each other so much when you can only ever hurt each other, but damn

also final thought about sally, the woman playing her has a gorgeous side profile, I'm gonna draw it someday

anyway, hades's palace looks nothing like how I imagined it, I don't hate it, I just prefer my version way more mostly because I like Nico being like an actual prince in there

I hated Hades's new characterization for the first like 5 minutes, then I realized that he acts kinda like a confident Nico and that's funny

also I feel like this characterization makes him stand out more, it's very different from any other interpretation of Hades in media

at the same time it reminded me a bit of Hades in class of the titans, and that interpretation pisses me off to no end so...

but yeah, I still prefer book!Hades, but tv show!Hades is interesting so I like him

it really feels like the production crew figured out how to 3D print statues and Rick was like "that's cool, let's use statues whenever possible," there are so many damn statues in this show lol

"it's all candy canes and rainbows down here, I'm doing just fine" with the gloomy-ass wide shot and thunder in the distance, that's funny

with hades seeming to be the only one of the gods who's actively recognized how toxic the godly family is, it makes me curious how they'll handle his relationship with Nico if we ever make it to seasons 3 or 4

because his relationship with Nico is one of the better ones among godly parents, but it's not really the best in terms of parents, so I think they'd end up having to change a few things

the way sally summoned poseidon felt like a reversal of giving an offering at camp. she gave the fire to the food instead of the food to the fire. there's a meaning behind that, but I don't know how to articulate it

I was so certain that was poseidon walking up to percy, and then it turned out to be annabeth and I felt so dumb lol

but that means poseidon might be making an appearance to help percy in the fight against ares! right, maybe? i think it'd be cool

with how little percy's actually fought in the tv show, and with the exclusion of his training at camp, him beating ares without A LOT of help isn't gonna be satisfying, so we'll see

that little teaser with percy and luke going into the forest under the fireworks has me so excited

i feel like a lot of people have already said this, but I think all of the actual issues with the show are disney's fault. the censorship is just a small part of that, but the amount of episodes and their length was probably decided by disney, and that's really hurting the show.

yes, i have issues with the writing and the direction rick's taken with the series. but I definitely wouldn't have as many issues if disney allowed them more time each episode to expand on what they're going with. i saw someone say that an 8 episode series used to be called a miniseries and honestly, a miniseries isn't enough for an entire book to make it feel complete

anyway, with that all out of the way, I'm still enjoying the series, I had much fewer complaints about this episode than last episode, and honestly, all of my real complaints from this episode aren't gonna play a part in later seasons if we get them, so I'm alright with that

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo disney+#pjo tv show #pjo spoilers #percy jackson spoilers #pjo disney+ spoilers #pjo tv show spoilers #was a little late to this one bc I straight up forgot it was tuesday #someone please tell me they agree with my thoughts on sally #it feels wrong to say that i don't like something sally did

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j-eryewrites · 1 year

Text

A Study in Pink (III)

EDITED

Previous | Next

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 4.k

Trigger Warning: Crime Scene, Sherlock being Sherlock, Bjørn doesn’t like Sherlock (AKA the cat from LUCA), Sherlock is a jerk, John gets mad.

(This is a shorter chapter)

_______________________________________________________________

Sherlock’s knee bobbed up and down with anticipation. The cab John and him were in was taking its sweet time. They also had made the unfortunate mistake to travel during rush hour. John glared out the window. He refused to look in Sherlock’s direction. Which was met with a sneer from Sherlock. Finally, the red and blue flashing lights of the police were in sight. Sherlock’s posture straightened at the sight. He hastily unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out of the cab before it reached a full stop.

John groaned and paid the cab driver. His wallet was getting lighter and lighter every time he travelled with Sherlock. Afterwards, John scurried out of the car.

Sherlock confidently walked towards the crime scene. There were bright yellow police do-not-cross tapes everywhere. The spinning lights on the police cars made Sherlock’s eyes wince. White. Blue. White. Blue. Sherlock shook his head. His eyes took their time to adjust to the bright lights.

John now walked by Sherlock’s side. His shorter legs struggled to keep up with Sherlock’s long strides. “You’re in a mood, John.” Sherlock slowed his pace so John could walk by him side-by-side. “I know we both loath Anderson, but this is an overstatement.”

“No, I’m not in a mood, Sherlock,” John grumbled.

Sherlock cocked his brow. “Lie.”

John sighed. “Fine, I want to hear why I’m mad, Sherlock. You. You were horrible to Y/N when all she was just trying to do was be nice.”

“Should I be nice?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, Sherlock!” John shouted. “It’s nice to be…nice.”

“Are you nice all the time?” Sherlock’s brow raised up. John wasn’t sure if his friend was being sarcastic or not.

“I try to be,” John replied hesitantly.

“Then why should? I have you to be nice.” Sherlock stated.

John stopped walking. He clenched his fists and took in a deep breath. His eyes closed. Sherlock lifted the yellow police tape and approached the scene while John was collecting every bit of restraint he possessed. When John opened his eyes again, an obnoxiously recognizable person held out a hand, and they stopped Sherlock from entering the building.

“Ah yes, Donovan,” Sherlock said. He flashed a painful smile like a child who did not want to participate in family photos.

A smug-looking woman, with spiralled black hair and an air of pompousness, confronted Sherlock. “Hello, freak,” she sneered. Her dark eyes looked Sherlock up and down. Her distaste grew the longer she stared at him.

John appeared behind Sherlock. “John,” Donovan said with less contempt.

“I’m here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Sherlock said.

“Why?” Donovan wondered. Sherlock glared at the woman. She knew what he was here for.

“I was invited.” Sherlock enunciated.

“Why?” Donovan repeated. She sounded like a toddler whose sole purpose was to ask the question why. John got the sense that this conversation could go on forever at this rate.

“I think he wants me to take a look,” Sherlock groused.

Donovan’s eyes twitched. “Well, you know what I think, don’t you?”

“Always Sally,” Sherlock breathed. “I even know you didn’t make it home last night.”

Donovan’s composure collapsed. “I don’t…,” She said. Her mouth hung open for a moment. Then her eyes rolled and she lifted a radio to her mouth. “Freak’s here. Bringing him in.”

Despite having heard the nickname throughout his entire life, Sherlock still couldn’t control the pain that appeared and quickly disappeared from his face. John wished he could help, but it would just only make things worse. It usually went that way with bullies like Donovan.

The two of them brushed past Donovan into the building. A man dressed in plastic coveralls started to walk towards them. Again they were stopped. He put a hand on Sherlock’s chest to stop him from entering. “It’s a crime scene and I don’t want it contaminated. You hear that freak?”

“Quite clear, Anderson. How long has your wife been away?” asked Sherlock.

Anderson scoffed, running his hand over his frumpy, unkempt beard. “ Don’t pretend you found that out. Somebody must have told you.” His eyes gave away his unease.

“No one did,” Sherlock smirked, pausing slightly to provide the punchline. “You’re deodorant told me that.” Anderson looked curiously at Sherlock. “It’s the same one Sergeant Donovan is wearing”. Anderson’s face flushed a bright red as nearby officers began to give him and Donovan looks. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. My colleague and I have a crime scene to get to.” Anderson angrily huffed and moved out of the way, letting the two of them enter the building.

John snickered as Sherlock walked away from Anderson. John didn’t have to worry about Sherlock. He could take care of himself just fine. The two of them walked up the long winding stairs. The building was eerily gray. The walls, the railing, and the stairs underneath them all seemed to be in mourning. Step by step they climbed. When they reached the top, they found Lestrade. He was sticking one of his arms into the sleeve of the plastic coveralls. Something he had difficulty with since the plastic material kept sticking to his clothes.

“Damn coveralls,” Lestrade cursed, finally shoving his arm through the sleeve.

Sherlock the man, picked up coveralls and gloves for John and handed them over. John took them from Sherlock’s hand and began to put them on. Sherlock opted out of the coveralls. Instead choosing latex gloves.

Lestrade grasped Sherlock’s arm. “I can give you two minutes.” He said.

Sherlock’s nose twitched. “May need longer.”

“Right, well, her name’s Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. “ Lestrade explained. “Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her.”

Sherlock nodded. With a creak, Lestrade had opened up the wilting door for John and Sherlock. Sherlock stepped into the room and looked around.

The room was practically empty all save for an ancient-looking rocking horse in the corner. There were portable lights set up around the room brought in by the police to illuminate the scene better. The walls were decorated with faded green wallpaper that looked like it had been there since the 1950s. The ceiling and floors displayed signs of water damage and possibly mould. In the middle of the room stood John crouched over the dead body of a woman dressed in pink. The body was lying face down and her hands were placed by her head. Just above her head was the word RACHE scratched into the floorboards. Sherlock approached John and the body. He crouched down.

“Shut up,” Sherlock commanded.

Lestrade looked around the room. “I didn’t say anything.”

Sherlock peered at Lestrade over his shoulder. “You were thinking. It’s annoying.”

John sent Lestrade an apologetic look, before bringing his gaze back to Sherlock.

Sherlock heard a pair of footsteps behind him. He looked up and found Anderson. He was leaning smugly against the door frame.

“She’s German. Rache: it’s the German word for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something…” Anderson said.

Sherlock shot up, walked over to Anderson, and slammed the door shut. Then he twirled around. His phone is now in his hand.

“So she’s German?” Lestrade pondered.

“Of course, she’s not. She’s from out of town, though.” Sherlock explained without removing his eyes from his phone.

John stepped closer and crouched over the body opposite Sherlock.

“ What do you think, John?” Sherlock asked.

“Of the message?” John asked.

“You’re a medical man,” Sherlock clarified.

John leaned closer to the body to get a better look. “Asphyxiation, probably. Choked on her own vomit. I can’t smell any alcohol on her. Possibly drugs.” John paused. “Promise me you won’t analyze Y/N.”

“That information we already know,” said Lestrade. “Sherlock?”

“The victim is in her late 30s and has a bit of an obsession with the colour pink. She intended to stay in London for one night, possibly meeting a lover, by the size of her suitcase. She travelled here earlier today.” concluded Sherlock. “Why should I make such a promise?”

“Just promise me, Sherlock,” exasperated John.

Sherlock peeled his gaze off the body. John’s eyes bore into his. The man’s kind eyes now held determination. Sherlock looked back down and nodded his head in agreement. John sighed in relief.

“Suitcase?” inquired Lestrade.

“Her wedding ring must be ten years old. The rest of her jewellery was well taken care of. Cleaned regularly, but not her wedding ring. Unhappy marriage. The inside of the ring is significantly shinier than the outside – that means it’s regularly removed. It’s not for work; look at her nails. She doesn’t work with her hands, so what, or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she’d never sustained the facade of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Quite simple really.”

“And what about today?” wondered John.

“The woman’s coat: it’s slightly damp on the outside. She’s been in heavy rain in the last few hours before her death. There was only rain at the LH Airport. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She’s turned it up against the wind. She’s got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it’s dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance, but she can’t have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried.”

Sherlock broke the silence. “Where is it? The suitcase?”

“There wasn’t a suitcase, Sherlock,” replied Lestrade.

Sherlock began pacing around the room, helping jog his mind. “They take the poison themselves….It’s murder, not suicide, murder. Serial killings- serial killer!” By then he was jumping for joy. “Her case! Where is it? ” John and Lestrade looked puzzled as Sherlock continued talking to himself.

“Sherlock, there was no case!” Lestrade yelled.

“But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even your lot couldn’t miss them.”

“Right, yeah thanks…” Lestrade mumbled.

“It’s murder, all of them. I don’t know how, but they’re not suicides. They’re killings–serial killings.” Sherlock turned to John in delight. “We’ve got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There’s always something to look forward to.”

“Why are you saying that?” Lestrade questioned. His face was filled with worry.

“Her case,” Sherlock began to mutter again. “Come on, where is her case?” Sherlock’s eyes widened. “Someone else was here, and they took her case. So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case in the car.”

“Couldn’t she have just left it at a hotel?” wondered John.

“No, she wouldn’t have left...Oh, Oh!” Sherlock exclaimed. John and Lestrade shared worried looks. When Sherlock was excited it meant one of two things. Someone had died or he won a bet against his brother. “Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake.” Sherlock turned to Lestrade. “Lestrade, find out who Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends were. Find Rachel!”

“Right, yeah - but what mistake Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s pacing halted. He turned towards Lestrade, placing his hands tightly on Greg’s shoulders, giving him a shake or two. “PINK!” With that, he was out the door. John followed closely behind. He had learned very early on that once Sherlock had an idea, he would disappear within seconds. John found Sherlock outside the building conversing with Donovan. About what, he had no idea.

“Right. John, hurry up.” enunciated Sherlock.

Briskly walking beside Sherlock, John pondered, “Does anyone ever tell you that you walk too fast?”

“No John, yours and everyone else’s legs are just too short. This is a normal pace for me.”

“No Sherlock,” mimicking Sherlock’s tone, “you’re walking faster than normal.” Sherlock lifts the collar of his coat.

“There is tea waiting for us back at the apartment.”

“Are you saying that you’re…thirsty?” John inquired.

“No, but I need someone fresh. New ideas. Just so happens that we have a new neighbour.” He turned to John, giving him a smile that made John’s stomach turn.

“No Sherlock,” stated John. He placed his hands on his hips. “You’re probably the last person she wants to see today after you were rude to her.”

Sherlock halted his steps. “John. I’m trying to be nice. So, we are going to have tea with the new neighbour.”

_______

“On another note,” The newscaster spoke. “We are expec…” Y/N had switched the channel. She disliked the news. She knew it was important to be informed, but she was already in a sour mood. She didn’t need the news to add to it.

Y/N brushed her hand lazily over Bjørn’s soft fur. His tiny body exuded the leftover warmth from his bath earlier. Bjørn’s purrs rang low as it pulsed up to Y/N’s ears. A soft blanket was draped over Y/N’s shoulders. One of the only things that she would allow herself to splurge on. Bjørn’s ears perked up and his tail swished as he looked at the door of Y/N’s flat.

“What’s up, Bjørn?” Y/N asked. She saw her cat’s golden eyes narrow. Suddenly there was the creaking of a door, footsteps, and muffled voices. Those voices got closer and closer. Y/N’s door swung open. Sherlock barged into the flat.

“ Sherlock, you can’t just walk into her flat!” John yelled. Y/N saw his figure appear in the doorway.

“I didn’t just barge in on John. The door was unlocked,” commented Sherlock as he took off his black trench coat and hung it up on the coat rack. Already making himself comfortable.

Y/N scoffed at Sherlock. He turned to look at her his eyes narrowing on her. A set of yellow eyes below the woman caught Sherlock’s attention. The cat’s ears were turned back and the hair along its spine crept higher and higher into the air. Sherlock stared at the cat. Bjørn stared back at him.

“What’s that?” Sherlock asked.

“Bjørn!” John gasped when he saw the cat. Bjørn’s eyes found John and the cat meowed. His head met John’s palm as he greeted the cat.

Sherlock looked between John, Bjørn, Y/N, and then back to Bjørn. His gaze softened as he concluded the cat meant no harm. He took one step and that was all Bjørn needed to hiss at Sherlock. John jumped back. He looked at Sherlock then at Bjørn.

“Bjørn,” Y/N said. “What are you doing?”

She tried to pull the cat back, but Bjørn jumped out of her hands. He crept towards Sherlock, hissing whenever the man made any sort of movement. When Sherlock had been corralled into the corner farthest away from Y/N, the cat hopped onto a nearby bookshelf. Bjørn scaled the wooden tower until he rested at the top. He sat tall and glared down at Sherlock. His tail swished in a calculated manner.

“He’s never done that before,” Y/N noted.

She watched Bjørn for a moment before shrugging. “I guess he doesn’t like you, Sherlock. Wouldn’t blame him.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and his mouth went slack. He glanced back up at the cat before taking a step forward. Bjørn’s golden eyes narrowed, but he made no attempt to stop Sherlock.

Sherlock took another step forward and entered the kitchen. He whipped around once more to look at Bjørn. If a cat could sneer, Sherlock was positive Y/N’s cat would be the one to do it.

John and Y/N watched Sherlock dance around the kitchen, his eye on Bjørn and Bjørn’s eye on Sherlock.

Sherlock shook off Bjørn’s stare and began to open all the cabinet doors. He’d open a cabinet and shake his head.

“No…no, No!” Sherlock muttered to himself.

John’s eyes widened. He thought Sherlock was going insane.

Finally, Sherlock’s eyes widened and he pulled out a box of tea. He did not bother to shut the cabinet doors.

Y/N scoffed and closed all the doors for him as Sherlock took a seat at the island in her kitchen. John stood there shocked, his face red as a cherry.

“What do you want, Sherlock? Actually, why are you here?” Probed Y/N.

“Tea,” said Sherlock.

Y/N just stood there across from Sherlock. Her arms crossed over her torso. Behind Sherlock, stood Bjørn. The cat's eyes were now tiny slits. A low growl but quiet growl escaped Bjørn’s mouth. Sherlock's spine shivered.

“Don’t just stand there. Sit,” Sherlock commanded. “I don’t think your cat likes me.”

“Well, that would be because I don’t like you,” Y/N retorted.

She turned to John and asked, “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’m alright, thanks,” John said.

“Tea” repeated Sherlock. His jaw clenched in frustration when he heard Bjørn growl again. Y/N ignored Sherlock.

The air grew a bit stuffy, and John cleared his throat. Bjørn’s tail flicked side to side. His growl grew louder once Sherlock turned back around to face the terrifying demon.

“Bjørn!” Y/N called. The cat’s ear twitched in the direction of its owner. The cat caught sight of Y/N and his large golden eyes could be seen once more. They sparkled in adoration for the woman. Sherlock’s brow pinched in confusion.

“How’s the weather?” asked John. He hoped to loosen the tension.

“Huh?” replied Y/N. She walked over to the shelf and picked up Bjørn, cradling him in her arms. The cat purred happily. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“I said “I would like tea”.” Grumbled Sherlock.

Scoffing, Y/N replied. “Really? I don’t recall you saying please. In fact, I also don’t recall ever inviting you into my apartment.”

Bjørn meowed in agreement. His golden eyes once again narrowed in on Sherlock.

“Neither did I,” retorted Sherlock as he clenched his fist.

“Right, but I had a motive. There were gunshots.”

“So do I.”

“You…have a motive to break into my home?” reiterated Y/N. Bjørn’s tail stopped twirling as if he was telling Sherlock to choose his next words carefully.

Sherlock looked at Bjørn and then back to Y/N. “I need ideas,” He hesitated.

“I’m not giving you any. Now please leave, before I call the cops,” Y/N stated.

John’s eyes widened. “Y/N there’s no…”

“Please do, they love me there,” Sherlock interjected.

Y/N couldn’t tell if Sherlock was being serious or not. Sherlock stared at her. His eyes urged her to call the cops. Do it, they told her. She rolled her eyes.

Then Sherlock pulled out his phone, brought up the pictures of the scene, and then handed his phone over to Y/N. Well, Sherlock handed it to John and John gave it to her. Bjørn wouldn’t let Sherlock near Y/N at the moment.

“Look. Tell me what you think.” Commanded Sherlock. Y/N stood there quite puzzled. The picture showed the crime scene. There wasn’t much to look at. What the hell does he want me to say? “It’s an abandoned place. Wasn’t taken care of. Don’t think it is a good place to live.”

“No, wrong picture. I’m not buying a new flat,” Sherlock said.

“Sort of hoped you would.” Muttered Y/N so that Sherlock couldn’t hear. She swiped to the next photo.

“What do you see?!” Demanded Sherlock. His patience was running thin with Y/N and her tiny demon.

Bjørn loudly hissed at Sherlock.

“Sherlock!” gasped John.

“Right, if I do this for you will you leave me alone?” Y/N asked eagerly. Sherlock just stared at her. “Will it?”

“Yes”. Begrudgingly Y/N looked down at the new photo and cursed. Bjørn jumped from her arms as she gasped. The cat quickly returned to his post on the bookshelf, staring down at Sherlock.

John rushed over to her side. “Are you alright?”

“No, a warning would have been nice,” mumbled Y/N whilst glaring at Sherlock.

“There’s a dead body,” said Sherlock, giving Y/N a slight smile. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or not. “Well?”

“Well?” asked Y/N.

“What do you think?”

“Erm… that’s it's a dead body.” She shrugged her shoulders. She looks towards John for help. But John looked just as confused as her.

“Even John can tell that's a dead body.” Commented Sherlock, leaving John a bit hurt.

“Well, there’s pink. Lots of it.” Looking up at Sherlock for approval. He nodded in return, urging her to continue. She glanced back at the phone. Her stomach turned. “She’s married. There’s a ring on her ring finger.” Sherlock sighed in disappointment. “What the hell do you want me to say Sherlock?!” exasperated Y/N.

“Look at her.” interrogated Sherlock.

“Are you wondering if I knew her?” questioned Y/N. “No, Sherlock. I do not know who this is. Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I’m the killer.”

“You didn’t even look at her! I’m not implying you are. This woman was then found dead. She was travelling. Had a suitcase with her. I would assume she was at the airport.” By now Y/N turned Sherlock out. She pulled the photo up and zoomed in on her face. “She would have been there around the time you landed.”

“Jesus Christ, No! Sherlock, I don’t find this woman familiar. “

“What?”

“You may not know, but airports are full of people. I was more focused on finding John and getting home than a woman in all pink!”

Bjørn’s ears perked up at his owner’s outburst. He meowed quietly, bringing her out of her frustration with Sherlock.

“Y/N,” asked John, “are you alright?”

“I’m tired and it’s late. I think you two should be leaving”. She didn’t dare look at them. Sensing that Sherlock wouldn’t get the hint, John got up and practically dragged Sherlock to the door, pushing him out into the hall.

“Sorry, again.” John apologized.

“It’s not your fault, John.”

“Goodnight,” muttered John.

“Goodnight”. Then they were gone. Their footsteps were heard walking up the creaking stairs of 221. Y/N sighed. Her head plopped into her hands, and she began to cry. She didn’t know why, but she just knew she needed to cry. Bjørn jumped down from the bookshelf and ran up to his owner. He began to meow, begging her to pick him up.

She sniffled and picked up Bjørn. She snuggled her face into his warm fur. The cat meowed and Y/N pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and red, and a frown adorned her face. A sight of the displeased Bjørn. He meowed softly to Y/N. The frown faded into a smile. She lovingly tapped Bjørn on the head.

Somehow, Y/N’s body mindlessly carried her and Bjørn to the bedroom where she collapsed onto the mattress. She twisted around in her sheet, struggling to get comfortable. Bjørn lay on her chest. His purrs pulled her mind out of its hectic state. Eventually, a restless sleep overtook her.

______

Once the door had closed behind them, John turned towards Sherlock. “Why did you do that? Why did you always have to do that?” He snapped.

“Do what?” quizzed Sherlock. Bringing his head down to level with John’s.

“You made her uncomfortable. You always push everyone away. She’s nice. She doesn’t deserve that.” Reprimanded John.

“I got what I needed.”

“I don’t care, Sherlock. I care how you…”

“Just give it up John.”

“No Sherlock, I won’t. Mrs. Hudson has shown us more than enough hospitality while we have been living here. Then you treat her niece with such recklessness. I’m astounded by you. Really Sherlock, get your act together.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to retort but John’s glare shut him down. John made his way to bed, leaving Sherlock standing at the entranceway of their shared flat.

_____

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The Spider and the FBI: Part 4 "As If Painted in Place"

Forced of the road, and carried down a raging river, miraculously surviving a mob hitman attacking them on the road, Scully, Skinner and their prisoner find themselves on foot, traveling across the open plains of Wyoming. Meanwhile, Mulder is dealing with two eccentric young women that need his help almost as much as Scully and Skinner.

"As If Painted in Place"

Part IV of "The Spider and the FBI"

by PR Chung

County Road 434

Wyoming

Friday, July 3rd

"You know this is your fault."

Mulder looked up from the trunk at Sally, squinting against the blazing daylight. Her accusation was brilliantly stunning. "What?" He nearly laughed.

Marylou looked between the two of them, apprehensive.

"Could you please explain to me how this is my fault?" He asked Sally, walking from behind the car to motion at the flattened rear tire.

"If we hadn't come this way I-- I wouldn't have run over that thingy in the road back there." Sally generalized, waving her arm in the direction they had come.

Mulder looked back down the road; his mouth twisted with dazzled contemplation.

"What thingy?" He questioned turning back to her. "There was no thingy in the road. The damn tire just went flat, that's it!"

"I know I ran over something," she insisted, "and I wouldn't have if we hadn't come down this road."

"This direction was your idea." He argued.

"I wouldn't have come this way if you weren't with us," she continued, now looking to her friend. "I only came this way to get him to a phone."

"This way?" Mulder repeated. "We're practically in Montana, do you realize that?" Neither of the women said anything. "You have taken me halfway across this state in the complete opposite direction that I should have been going. There's a rental car sitting on the side of the road, four hundred miles from here, that's closer to civilization than we are right now. My partner and superior have probably entered and left the state of Nebraska by now, if they're lucky enough not to have run into the man intent on killing the prisoner they're transporting. And here I am, arguing about my ambiguous role in your narrow view of the universe."

Both of the women remained silent; they were looking past him down the road.

Mulder heard the sound of a vehicle and turned seeing a battered pick-up truck heading toward them. He gave it a circumspect look, one corner of his upper lip drawing back with trepidation. The truck began slowing as it neared them, and Mulder could see two men peering out the windshield with half-witted grins plastered across their faces.

"Get in the car," he called back over his shoulder.

Marylou immediately moved towards the door, Sally too, but only to grab her purse off the front seat. "You get in the car, woozy agent," she spat at Mulder, "I'm not."

"Sally, what are you doing?" Marylou demanded.

"Hey there." Mulder turned seeing one of the men leaning out the open window of the truck. "Having some trouble here, huh?"

"No, just a flat."

"Gotta spare?" The driver called and leaned forward for a better view of the scene.

"Right there." Mulder kept it short.

"Got air in it?" the passenger asked laughing.

"Yeah, got air. Even have a jack and lug wrench."

"Well, what do you know about that?" The passengers turned to the driver, and they laughed hard, too hard for Mulder's comfort.

"Will you take me to the next town?" Sally was suddenly at the driver's window.

The two men looked startled for an instant.

"Uh...?" said the passenger glancing back at Mulder.

"Sally?" Marylou yelled at her friend jumping back out of the car where she'd been watching from.

"Uh..." said the driver also glancing back at Mulder as he reached for his door handle.

"No, I don't think this is a good idea," Mulder announced starting for the truck.

"Maybe you don't, but I don't care what you think," Sally snapped at him through the truck windows and across the two men. "Come on, open up and let me in."

"Uh... all.. all right," the driver said and got out.

"Sally, no," Marylou pleaded with her. "Come on, we'll get the tire changed and everything will be fine."

"I don't even care, okay? Since he turned up this whole trip has really lost its appeal for me." She tossed her purse in on the truck seat next to the passenger and started to climb in.

"Sally, come on," Mulder tried, laboring for his best and most gracious of smiles. "There's no sense in abandoning your road trip. I'll get out of your hair in the very next town, I promise. You'll never have to see me ever again."

She looked at him for a long moment, hovering halfway in the truck.

"Forget it." She plopped down in the seat jaw set. "Let's go."

"Sally," Marylou ran up to the truck near tears. "No, don't go with these guys."

"We're good guys," the driver assured her getting back in behind the wheel.

"We'll take good care of your friend." The passenger assured her.

"Come on, come on, let's go."

"Sally, damn it, think about this," Mulder was having trouble keeping the agitation from his voice, he could feel his jaw tensing and knew he was talking through gritted teeth.

"Please."

Even the driver was starting to wonder. "You sure about...?"

"Come on, I want to go." Sally practically yelled at him refusing to look at Mulder or Marylou.

"All right..."

The passengers waved and smiled as they drove away back down the road leaving a dusty wake behind.

"Shit!" Mulder yelled turning to the trunk of the Mustang.

Marylou gasped. "I can't believe she just left with those guys."

"Just some more shit to make my life harder than it already is," Mulder declared hauling the spare out of the trunk.

****************************

The sound was so loud it was almost deafening; the raging torrent of muddy water Walter Skinner found himself battling and at the same time utilizing to reach Scully. She was just ahead of him; the water tossing and turning her like so much driftwood, her head bobbing up and down below the surface, her eyes were wide, and her mouth gaped as she gasped for breath.

Bright day and rushing then a split second of deathly silence and gray followed again by the rushing and brightness and gasping and coughing. Scully sucked in great gulps of air each time she managed to throw her head back far enough from the water to breathe, but the water was in her eyes, her mouth and nose. Don't panic, she had tried telling herself at first, but all equanimity deserted her once she felt the river winning. Fighting the current was like bench pressing four hundred pounds while being hit with a fire hose on full. Her arms were growing numb, her throat burned from choking-

Don’t panic!

Gasp! "Hel-" Cough! "-p!"

Silence. Rush. Gasp. Choke!

Clutch!

Her fingers brushed at something solid, her shoulder next but whatever it was gone, still she...

Don't panic! She thought. "Help-!" She choked up in the blaze of day around her.

Clutch! Silence. Rush. Gasp!

Choke...

Silence...

"Scully!" Skinner shouted when he saw only her back surface. He spat and choked away dark water struggling to turn face up, kicking then with all his strength shoulders first along the current toward her still form.

He bumped into something and fought to turn again thinking it was Scully but finding it was only a piece of debris; a knot of branches and grass torn loose from the riverbank. Then, his heart nearly stopped when he realized he'd overshot her somehow.

At the last minute, Skinner caught the snarled branches that were precariously caught up on bank, holding himself above water as Scully was carried close enough for him to reach out and grab.

Snaking his arm around her under her arms he hoisted the weight of her upper body up and toward him bringing her head up from the water on back onto his shoulder, but in the effort to do so he lost his grip on the branches.

As though they were tethered to a truck moving at top speed he and Scully were jerked away from the bank by the current. Water blinded him, choked him, fought him for control and possession of Scully but he would not let go of her, would not let her head dip below the murky surface again no matter how many times his did.

"Hey!" Skinner heard someone shouting just barely above the sound of the rushing water. "Hey! Here! Here! Up here!" Skinner shook his head and tried to squeeze his eyes clear of water, seeing finally a blur pacing him and Scully along the bank in an offish, excited dance. "Up here! There's rocks ahead!"

It was Bernstein.

The news about rocks ahead was a mixed blessing Skinner realized and prepared himself for what would undoubtedly be a brutal impact. As best he could he forced himself and Scully into the current attempting to keep as much of his head and neck out of the way of anything hard ahead.

"Okay, okay!" Bernstein was shouting now. "Get ready! Now, grab them! Grab them!"

Blindly, Skinner reached out with one arm connecting hard with an out cropping of rock just a foot or two from the riverbank. His grip wasn't solid, if Bernstein didn't hurry he'd be swept away again with Scully's weight helping the furious current.

Bernstein tiptoed along the slippery rocks, a long branch in his hands and huge goose egg of a bug sting smack dab between his eyes. "Grab on to the end!" He called Skinner.

"I can't! I'll lose my grip on her! Come down here and help me!"

"I could slip and fall in," Bernstein argued back poking the branch toward Skinner. "I went through hell getting out of this friggin' river once with these cuffs on, I'm not doing it again!"

"Damn you, Bernstein! Help me!"

"I am, grab on!" Bernstein inched his way out a little further and slipped to the end of the branch near Skinner's hand. "Just grab on!"

His fingers were slipping, his arm around Scully was going numb—

He let go of the rock to grab the branch-- and missed.

"Oh, Jesus!" Bernstein yelped as Skinner and Scully washed away from him.

An eternity of mere seconds passed before Skinner felt his head and shoulders jabbed repeatedly as he was shoved into another accumulation of branches down river. The force of river water pressed him nearly under the branches and then rolled and twisted his body toward the soggy bank like so much flotsam. His body weak, his muscles burning with exhaustion... he was too close to give up.

He pulled himself along the branches until he was close enough to hoist Scully forward away from him and against the muddy bank using her weight as an anchor, pulling himself up next to her. He hung over her peeling wet tangled hair from her face that was pale, checking and finding that she wasn't breathing.

"Scully..." he breathed, his voice husky with alarm. He rolled her onto her side to clear any water still in her mouth or throat to begin CPR. "Scully, can you hear me?" He continued to talk to her as he worked, turning her onto her over again, tilting her head back. "Dana, come on, sweetheart..."

"Oh, God," Bernstein gasped as he stumbled on the scene, startled by the sight of the crisis.

Skinner was only marginally aware of the man's presence as he began blowing his breath into Scully, delivering even breaths, and watching for the rise and fall of her chest, speaking softly, ardently to her. "Come on, take a breath... Take a breath, damn it..." He pleaded and cursed in breathless whispers over her ashen lips, water dripping from his face onto hers, his eyes boring down on her as though he could bring her back to consciousness with his will alone.

Panic began to surge up through him, his mind twisting with distraught thoughts. Why the hell did she jump in? Because she was doing her job-- Why did she have to be so damn dedicated?

Three, maybe four, breaths he'd filled her lungs with when she jerked beneath him, her arms tensing then flailing as she gasped and coughed.

"That's it," Skinner nearly shouted, heart swelling as he helped her turn on her side to retch away excess water. "Get it out, that's it."

"Yes!" Bernstein exclaimed giving a little victory shake of his cuffed hands in the air.

It was then that Skinner took full notice of the man again, shooting him a momentary glacial glare before he came to his feet.

"Oh..." Bernstein hesitated only a moment, frozen with surprise as Skinner charged toward him before he turned to run. "Shit!"

He didn't get but a few yards before two hands clamped down on his shoulders like vice grips and spun him around. Skinner's face was so close to his Bernstein could see himself in the man's cold dark eyes.

"You son of bitch!" Skinner shouted in his face shaking him by fists full of his shirt as well as a copious quantity of skin and hair beneath the fabric.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Bernstein cried out averting his face away from Skinner hot breath.

"You sure the hell are!" Skinner bellowed, "I should kick your ass but good you sorry son of a bitch..."

"I thought you could reach it— I didn't know— I thought it would work— It works in the movies!"

"This isn't a damn movie—"

"Hey..." Skinner broke off glancing back at Scully; she was watching him roughing up Bernstein warily.

"I'll tell her."

Skinner looked Bernstein evenly in the eyes. "You'll tell her what?" He hissed from between clinched teeth.

"Tell me..." Scully choked some, "tell me what?"

Skinner half turned to look back at her, wordless as realization flickered in his eyes.

"Sweetheart..." Bernstein whispered with mock seduction in Skinner's face.

***************************************

County Road 434

Washakie County, Wyoming

10: 28 a.m.

"Is she always this reckless?"

Marylou looked at Mulder, his question apparently striking an uncomfortable note with her.

"Not like this." She answered turning back to look at the road, wringing her hands in her lap.

Mulder gripped the steering wheel and shook his head, mouthing a curse, admonishing himself for not listening to his instincts. Something intangible had spoken to him on that road, a whisper out of the pre-dawn light, a word of caution. How could he have confused innocuous mischief with an all-out commitment to causing trouble and grief?

And how the hell could she have gone with them?

How many young woman's murders had he been briefed about, read the reports on, been unfortunate enough to witness the aftermath? And why, because of some foolhardy sense of immortality people seem to walk around believing?

"Oh my god!" Mulder reflexively jerked the steering wheel when she shouted causing the Mustang to swerve wildly. "There, look, it's those two guys."

Marylou was pointing ahead. Mulder could see two figures lumbering listlessly down the shoulder of the narrow road. His mind began to reel. Where was Sally? Why were these two walking? Where was the truck? How many side roads had there been between here and where they had picked her up? How many brushy areas? How many bridges?

Mulder brought the car to an abrupt halt on the heels of the two men, jumping out and rushing up to them before either could fully react.

"Where is she?" Mulder demanded. The two looked back at him as though dazed. He grabbed the one closest to him, the man who had been driving earlier. "Where is Sally?"

"Hey man, I don't know!"

"She took our truck!" The passenger declared separating Mulder from his companion.

"Bullshit," Mulder spat suspiciously. "I suppose you were just driving along and wham!"

"We were talkin' and drinking beer," the passenger whined.

"We didn't try anything." The driver declared.

"Didn't try anything."

"She's the one that was acting all cutesy-"

"What the hell did you do?" Mulder yelled at them, knowing that they were lying.

"Nothing! Nothing! We didn't do anything. She told us she had a gun in her purse and made us pull over and get out."

"A gun?" He shot a questioning glare at Marylou.

"She doesn't have a gun, Fox..." She told him, her eyes pinched with apprehension. "But she has... taken cars before."

"Taken?" He repeated, stunned.

Marylou swallowed hard. "When someone would make her mad or piss her off... she'd get even by taking their car..." Mulder glanced back at the Mustang and she shook her head. "Oh, no, that really is hers."

"Ah," Mulder moaned throwing his head back wincing up to the sky, perhaps to ask simply why or maybe even to say a little prayer for some semblance of mercy. Question or appeal, he was interrupted.

"Fox," Marylou said his name again and again touched his arm. "We need to find her."

He hesitated, ready to refuse on so many distinct levels of reasoning against just that, but stopped, seeing the wariness in Marylou's eyes and knew this wasn't the first time she would have had to collect her friend from a bad situation.

*************************************

Hamburger Hamlet

Bethesda, Maryland

12:23 p.m. EST

A little frazzled and very excited Kimberly Cook scooted through the staggered patio tables heading for the restaurant entrance. Near breathless she hauled open the door immediately hit with a blast of refrigerated air from inside, her skin pulling into gooseflesh as she hastily began to scan faces in the crowd.

"Kimmy, here!" There he was, waving to her from a small cozy table in the bar, his smile almost blinding in its shear perfection, like everything about him. Sometimes she just couldn't believe it. He had model good looks, was charming and funny, and so romantic. And that smile, oh he could just drive her to her knees with that smile and those twinkling blue eyes.

She grinned wildly dashing to join him.

Don't act stupid. Don't act stupid. She repeated to herself, nervous and excited.

"Jess," she called his name zestfully, loving the way it sounded, thrilled when others turned to see her joining him. They were so absolutely suited for each other, and she wanted everyone to witness just how well suited they were, how lucky and happy she was.

"Hey, there, gorgeous," he laughed grabbing her up in his arms to kiss her fully on the lips. Kim nearly swooned, feeling her knees weakening beneath her. "You look so beautiful, more beautiful than last night." She blushed just at the mention of last night. "But I thought you weren't going to make it, angel."

"I'm so sorry," she apologized covering his hands with hers. "Just one person after another wanted something from me while I was trying to leave my office. I finally just had to walk out. I'm so sorry. You'll forgive me?"

"It's okay," he smiled and looked at her, his eyes dancing, "But will you have time to stay for lunch?"

Kim waved her hand in the air, carefree. "I think I can swing a little extra time for lunch today."

Jess cocked a light brown brow. "Kimberly..." he said her name low, mocking suspicion, "I don't want you getting in trouble with that boss of yours..."

She labored for seriousness, lowering her voice as she looked deeply into his eyes and said, "Well, he’s out of town right now. I thought I mentioned that?"

"That's right..." Jess said, nodding his head thoughtfully.

She shrugged. "And if he calls my voice mail will get it. I could take the rest of the day off if I wanted to." She tossed her head, throwing her red hair back as much as its short length would allow.

"Well, great. But he wouldn't come back unexpectedly, would he?"

She made a raspberry sound as she unfolded her napkin and put it across her lap. "No, I doubt it, he's in the middle of...uh, well, he's doing something rather important. But I know he's got to be back by Tuesday."

"Tuesday? Where is he going to be for so long?" Jess asked while motioning for the waiter to come over.

"Well, right now he's in Wisconsin- Oh. No, I mean...um... somewhere in Wyoming." She laughed and rolled her eyes slapping her head. "It's those "w" names."

Jess laughed. "You are so cute. I could just eat you up."

Now he had said some pretty fantastic things in the last week but that had to be about most fantastic, she thought feeling her whole-body flush...

***************************************

Somewhere, Wyoming

Midday...

In the stark midday sunlight, Skinner and Scully stood out against the tall, tawny prairie grasses in their blue wind breakers, Bernstein in his still somewhat white dress shirt and khakis dividing them. Their clothes had dried quickly in the heat of the day but had grown uncomfortably stiff and hot during the course of their trek across the seemingly endless expanse of grassland.

They had been walking for only an hour or two, heading away from the river, having decided not to return to the car where Gryzwac could be lying in wait or easily watching the area for their return, and already, if the knicks and scraps from the window glass hitting him wasn't bad enough, Skinner suspected that his head was becoming sunburnt. The resulting peeling process of a burnt scalp, he thought, wasn't in the least... appealing. It wasn't as though he easily wore a ball cap into the office with any degree of comfort or dignity— if he ever got back to his office alive.

He glanced at Scully briefly then Bernstein. If any of them got back alive, he thought again.

If it was Gryzwac who had run them off the road, and he had no reason to believe otherwise, it was unlikely that the man was going to give up looking for them. But how in the hell had he found them in the first place, Skinner thought angrily. Was he somehow monitoring their cell phone usage? Or was it as simple as the monitoring of local law enforcement bands on a scanner?

The news of federal agents arriving at the local sheriff's department was uncommon enough to be tossed back and forth between dispatchers and deputies, a real break in the humdrum routine. That was one possibility, but it still didn't explain how Gryzwac and Machenko had found where Mulder and Scully had been with Bernstein, albeit they were late enough getting there that Scully had already left with Bernstein. There was only one explanation left. There was an information leak within the bureau.

Scully fanned away one of the many insects buzzing around in the knee-high grass, feeling ironically thirsty despite the fact that she had nearly drowned not but a few hours before.

She would have too, she thought stealing a glimpse of Skinner who was walking a few paces ahead of Bernstein. She would have drowned if it hadn't been for him. She couldn’t remember a great deal of what happened, flashes and impressions mostly, which was probably for the best. She’d dealt with terrorizing memories of drowning once before; she didn't need to struggle to bury a whole new set of bad memories and sensations; the panic and taste of fear that no child should ever have to experience.

Her brothers had gone in, and it had looked so easy- so simple, and so she had gone in, too. There was no thought given by a four-year-old to the fact that she had never swum before. For an eternity it seemed, there was blackness and an inviting gurgle of water grasping her until a sudden light hit her eyes as her father yanked her up from below the surface of Chatchom’s pond.

"Starbuck!" She recalled the loud, domineering voice. Anger and fear tangled together as he called to her. "What were you thinking, sweetheart—"

No, wait, Scully stopped to think.

Her father had never called her that, ever. Sweetheart? Where had she gotten that phrase? She pondered the obscure reference rearing up from apparently nowhere until Bernstein broke her chain of thought.

"Just what the hell are we doing?" He blasted. "Are we going to walk to Washington D.C.?"

Neither Skinner nor Scully responded.

"Do either of you have the slightest clue where we're going here?" He whined hobbling along as though he'd been walking for days on blistered feet.

"Hell," Scully finally broke her silence able to take no more of the man's bellyaching. "And we're taking you with us."

"Ah, Ariel speaks again!" Bernstein mocked surprise throwing his hands up in a hallelujah-like gesture. Again, like the first three or four times, Scully ignored the Little Mermaid reference.

Amazed, she glanced at Skinner, not knowing how he had recovered his composure so successfully after practically throttling Bernstein on the riverbank, nor how he had maintained it so well considering the situation. Herself, aside from having nearly drowned, clothes stiff and hot, hair matted, sinuses aching and burning, nauseated from too much water taken in, gun lost, cell phone waterlogged, and a nail broken into the quick... she wasn't in much of a mood.

"My feet are killing me." He whined again.

"Deal with it," she told him. "You're not the first man who’s had to walk across these prairies, you know?"

"I know. I know," he replied craning his head around to look at her, allowing her an unobstructed view of the still huge insect sting right between his brows. "I also know I'm not some savage Indian or a roughneck frontiersman— I'm a regular guy whose shoes are killing him. I'm going to have to see a podiatrist."

"Take your shoes off." Skinner recommended.

"Take them off?" Bernstein gasped.

"For thousands of years men ran barefoot through these grasses, I think you could manage it for a few hours." Scully assured him with half-baked seriousness.

"A few hours? Have you looked around? "He asked making a sweeping gesture of his cuffed hands. "More like a few days of walking. There's nothing in site for miles except for more and more of this!" He kicked at the grass, looking awkward and nearly losing his balance in the process.

Skinner and Scully traded glances, amused. She then hesitated to look down at something she'd stepped on. Skinner stopped as well, watching her bend to inspect something on the ground, letting Bernstein wonder ahead on his own, he wouldn't get far from sight out here in the open. She stood with something small and dark pinched between her fingers. She gave him an amused half smile holding the object up to show him.

"An arrowhead." She announced and laughed quietly.

He watched her examine her unusually timed discovery for a moment, captured by the delicate way she turned the object in her fingers and childlike glow of amusement that brushed her lips with a whisper of a smile... Watching her for that moment, he was incredibly taken by this woman.

"So, Sgt. Bilko," Bernstein called back to Skinner as he loped along, "what is the plan?"

Skinner flicked a glance his way, setting his jaw.

"It can't be much of a plan," Bernstein said before there could be any response. "No car. No phone. And no idea of where we ar-uhhh!"

"I think we've got a pretty good idea now," Scully muttered as she watched Bernstein's chaotic display of gestures spent to free himself from a broken barbed wire fence. "We're on someone's property."

The two agents started walking toward Bernstein at a leisurely pace seeing no great need to hurry to his rescue.

"A ranch more than likely," Skinner offered scanning the area, repositioning his glasses.

He'd done this several times Scully had noticed, and she didn't believe the frames had fared very well after their travels down the river nestled in his pocket. She had been truly amazed that they weren't broken when she saw him retrieve from his shirt pocket earlier.

Bernstein angrily snorted from where he was now sitting on the ground, hopelessly entangled in the loose barb wire. Jerking his arms up to inspect the elbow of his left sleeve he wrinkled his nose and flared his nostrils at the deep brown muck he found stuck there.

"Ock! Oh! Ock!" He gagged swinging his arms away from himself.

Scully pulled her lips inward biting at them hard not to laugh aloud.

In defiance of his pained expression Skinner's eyes seemed to dance with gratification.

"A cattle ranch, apparently." Scully added at last.

***********************************

Ten Sleep, Wyoming

1:34 p.m.

"There," Jink exclaimed leaning over the back seat throwing his arm over Mulder's shoulder pointing toward ahead at something on the side of the road. "I see my truck."

"Where?" Mulder asked him, flicking his eyes back and forth between the road and the rear-view mirror.

"I see it, too," Harley agreed also sitting forward against the back of Marylou's seat.

"The restaurant," Marylou directed Mulder's attention to the building tucked in between an intensely busy truck stop and a chain motel.

He scanned the parking lot of the small restaurant slowing to pull in, wondering how the hell these two could have picked their truck out of the multitude of rusted, beat-up pickups filling the lot. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Jink hollered back, "I can already see the gash I put in the rear fender when I backed into my dad's bull."

Mulder nodded. "Of course, how stupid of me." He muttered cranking the wheel into a left turn off the highway.

While he waited for a parking space as another truck pulled out the two men got out and started over to their truck, checking it out and yelling back and forth about beer then cigarettes. Marylou had followed them halfway to the truck before she stopped and just stood in the middle of the driveway until Mulder parked and got out of the car.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, coming around the back of the Mustang.

"I don't know." She shrugged watching the two men search for what was apparently their last pack of cigarettes in the truck.

"Come on and let's look inside for her." Mulder urged her wondering why the hesitation suddenly.

Hit by the loud clank of plates and flatware, pool balls slapping together, and the tinkle of some country lament, Mulder and Marylou approached the small register counter seeing that restaurant was teeming with activity. Constructed of bare wood, the walls covered with framed photos of locals in slice-of-life type poses. There was a small counter up front with a bowl of toothpicks mixed in with mints, beside it stood an ancient looking Tempest video game, next to that a row of candy machines boasting a nickel price tag on each.

Mulder and Marylou stretched their necks in alternating directions searching the booths and tables for Sally, Mulder keeping an eye on Jink and Harley still out in the parking lot, hoping they would just take off after they found their pack of smokes, but he had a bad feeling once they got their nicotine fix they would be looking for a certain young woman.

Marylou grabbed Mulder’s arm suddenly dragging him forward into the dining room. "I see her."

In a booth near the back of the dining room Sally sat with her back to the rest of the patrons, apparently the entire contents of her purse spread out over the table, a mug of coffee carefully placed at the center like an altar piece. She was still digging more things out of her purse when they stepped up to booth.

She looked up at Marylou and Mulder, her lips pinched together hard.

"What's a screwed-up girl like you doing in a nice place like this?" Mulder said before he could stop himself.

"Great!" Sally spat and threw a handful of gum wrappers on the table.

Glaring at him Marylou ground her elbow into Mulder's ribs hard, nearly knocking the wind from him. "Shut up!" She told him between a whisper and a shout before taking a seat in the booth across from her friend. She eyed the mixture of garbage and necessities across the table for a second or two before asking Sally quietly, "what are you looking for?"

She appeared to ignore the question continuing to dig in her purse, only stopping briefly to watch Mulder sit down next to Marylou, then tossed a tampon with a torn, wrinkled wrapped onto the table in his direction.

"Hon, those two fellas you took the truck from are in the parking lot." Marylou told her friend, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Sally tossed a battered toothbrush missing more than a few bristles from its head onto the table and glanced toward the front windows. "And?" She said turning back.

"Well, as soon as they find their cigarettes," Mulder began, smirking, "they're probably going to come in here looking for you, if they don't call a cop first."

She huffed, laboring with a false smile. "They won't be finding their cigarettes." She said and threw a pack of Menthols on the table.

Mulder took a deep breath, steadying his voice. "Listen," he said sitting forward, "there are obviously some unresolved issues on your plate but I'm just not hungry enough to eat that bullshit right now."

Marylou started to say something, but he silenced her holding a finger up. "Now we can get out of here before those two good ol' boys come rambling in here with the local fuzz, you two go your way and I'll go mine, or I can get up and walk out of here and never look back as they drag your sour little ass off kicking and screaming to the county jail."

Sally glared at him. "What's your deal?" she asked squinting her eyes as though trying to figure out the answer at the same time she asked it. "Just go call your partner and boss and leave me alone."

"Please," Marylou pleaded with her. "He's trying to help."

"Why?" She shrugged her shoulders. "You're basically a cop yourself, why don't you just take me into custody and turn me over to the locals?"

"Do you know how lucky you are?" Mulder said perhaps too loudly, turning heads from the nearby tables and booths. He lowered his voice, "do you know how many pretty young women I've seen dead in a ditch or shallow grave because they thought they were untouchable and took that ride. Those two could have beat the hell out of you, raped you, dismembered your body and sprinkled your remains all over the damn state. Or worse, they could have kept you captive, tortured you blind until they'd had enough fun then left you to waste away and die in your own excrement."

"My God," Sally breathed squinting at him, "you're a real asshole."

He shook his head. "Come on, Marylou," he said taking her hand and getting up from the booth. "You're not involve in this, let's get out of here."

"No, wait," she resisted, pulling her hand from his. She turned to Sally urgently, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "Please don't screw everything up again, this was supposed to be a fun weekend. It's not even the fourth yet."

"Oh well, shit," Sally declared beginning to shovel stuff from the table back into her purse carelessly. "I wouldn't want to screw everything up again. Heaven forbid. You know I didn't want to pick him up in the first place, you practically begged me to pick him..."

"If you're gathering up all that crap because you've decided to leave," Mulder interrupted her, sounding urgent, looking toward the front windows. "I suggest you hurry."

Marylou and Sally looked back seeing Jink and Harley heading toward the restaurant, appearing highly excited with their mouths running back and forth to one another.

"Well shit." Sally muttered indifferently.

"Come on, hurry," Marylou urged her beginning to gather up handfuls of junk from the table to shove in her purse.

"All right, all right... Jesus, be careful."

Jink and Harley were at the front door now.

"Forget it," Mulder said ushering them out of the booth, eyes on the two men. "Let's go."

"How the hell are we going to leave, they're right there at the exit." Sally complained.

"Where there's will there's an open door."

In a hustled sort of stroll, trying to look casual, the three of them headed toward the restaurant kitchen, Mulder leading them. Jink and Harley were at the front counter, asking the waitress working the register questions and scanning the dining room, game room and bar.

"Hey!"

Mulder turned his head back, seeing Harley approaching from across the room. "Just keep going," he told Marylou and turned back to meet Harley, preoccupying his attention in some way. Twirling something shiny in front of him was a brief consideration.

"Where the hell are you three going?" He demanded from Mulder.

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," Mulder laughed. "Bathrooms. We were just heading to the bathroom." He glanced around behind the man looking for the other who was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Jinx, or was it Pixie?"

"Jink. And he went to keep an eye on your car," Harley poked at Mulder. "We don't want anyone leaving here before the police get here."

Mulder nodded stiffly, his mind working hard on the problem. "That's smart thinking," he complimented the man pulling his id case from his pocket, "but you know what, I've got this under control." He flashed his badge and ID at the man. "I'm a federal agent."

The man blinked at him. "Yeah? So what?"

So much for stunning him with that, Mulder thought grimacing. He nodded thoughtfully, placing his hand on Harley's shoulder, turning him as he spoke carefully. "Exactly, see I'm under cover..."

"In that suit?"

Shit. "You've got a sharp eye." Mulder laughed and it was hollow. "I bet you've already figured out which one of these people in here is the contact."

"Huh? Contact?" The man dumbly said abruptly searching faces in the dining room.

"Shhh, don't let him know you know who he is."

"Oh, sorry, right," he agreed, confused, and frowning as he took another long obvious sweeping glance at the patrons.

"I have to apologize to both you and Jink about my assistant's impulsive behavior," Mulder continued his story, praying to the goblins of spontaneity for all their help as he guilefully maneuvered Harley toward the front door. "When we got that flat and she knew how important it was that someone be here to meet our contact, she took the ride with you fellas."

"But she said..."

Mulder nodded breaking his sentence, "I know, she took your truck but only because she didn't want to break our cover story." He leaned against the front door leading Harley out, saying, "Sally is very dedicated."

"Hey! Hey! Damn it!"

Harley and Mulder froze.

Jink was half jumping, half running across the parking lot kicking up whiffs of dust as he went after Marylou who was running away from the Mustang covering her head. Mulder gasped patting his pants pockets— he had the keys!

"Leave her alone!" Sally came screaming from between two parked trucks swinging her huge purse at Jink.

"Son of a bitch!" Harley cursed firing a hot scowl at Mulder before he bolted into the parking lot to help his friend.

Mulder sprinted for the Mustang digging the keys out from his pocket, seeing chaos of the Dukes of Hazard caliber descending upon the parking lot; Marylou squealing away from first Jink then Harley as Sally beat Jink about the head and shoulders with a bag that had to weigh fifteen pounds, dust flying everywhere. The only components to complete the farce were a fat guy in a white suit and some smokin' banjo music.

Mulder jumped in the car and got it started, racing the engine a little too hard, catching Harley's attention. He shifted in his pursuit of Marylou and started for the Mustang. Mulder shot out of the parking space fast, nearly hitting Harley. The man slammed his hands down on the trunk lid, yelling something Mulder couldn't understand but knew was probably not friendly.

Cranking the steering wheel wildly with one hand and shifting like a stock car driver with the other, Mulder got turned around and headed toward the exit where Sally had forced Jink nearly into the highway with her handbag assault. Marylou had stopped and was crying compulsively in the middle of the parking lot.

"Get in!" Mulder shouted at her braking hard next to her.

In the seconds, her fumbling of the door handle afforded him Mulder checked the rear-view mirrors. Harley was coming up hot on their tail, and beyond his irate expression Mulder could see the restaurant patrons had flocked to the windows and front door to watch the spectacle.

Marylou screamed when she saw Harley. She got the door open and fell into the front seat. Mulder didn't wait for her to shut the door. He punched the gas just as Harley made a mad swing for the trunk lid causing him to fall as the car moved from under his grasp.

Seeing the Mustang heading her way, Sally withdrew her handbag only to haul off and kick Jink in the crouch before she made a break for the open car door to jump in.

The Mustang fish-tailed out of the parking lot onto the highway leaving Jink and Harley in a pale cloud of dust.

*******************************

Roy's PDQ Mart

Dove Tail, Wyoming

2:46 p.m.

"Wouldn't ya' like to be a peppa', too?" Opening the refrigerator case, he laughed as softly to himself as he had been singing the soda jingle.

He plucked a soda bottle from the case and opened it on the spot, drinking half of it before his cell phone rang, interrupting about the only moment of serenity he'd had today.

"Yeah," he answered wiping sticky soda from the corners of his mouth. "Oh, really? Well, you know something, that's yesterday's news, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!" Gryzwac barked back to the person on the other end of the line walking toward the checkout counter.

"I already knew that, and do you know why I already knew that?" He set the open soda on the counter and dug out his money clip as the purchase was rung up, the man running the register stealing nervous glances too often not to be anything but obvious.

"Well, for one thing, I didn't need your happy mother fuckin ass to tell me— you hear me. I don't wait 'til the eleventh hour to get the job done then half-ass it up— No, I don't even want to hear your excuses. You have no idea what I've got to deal with here— No, I've got a scanner, and it's doing your job just dandy. A police scanner, you dumb... Yeah, exactly, so I've got to listen to these hayseed hick fuckers non-stop to find out what Royce's good money is going in your faggot pocket for— No, I'll make sure Royce hears about this."

Gryzwac snapped the phone off, puffing hard.

After a moment he looked at the man behind the counter, his mouth gone slack with a weak smile, his eyes glazed. "Guess that fella didn't do a very good job, huh?" he remarked, laughing nervously.

"Yeah," Gryzwac grunted cocking his head, "now give me my fuckin change!"

**************************************

J. Edgar Hoover Building

Washington, D.C.

3:46 p.m. EST

"AD Skinner's office," Kim Cook answered the phone flinching at the sound of her own harried tone.

Everything had gone haywire since she got back from lunch, and she could have kicked herself because it was her fault, at least in some part. If she hadn't had been so impatient, so giddy to meet with Jess for lunch then she would have got the call, yet she would have probably had to cancel with Jess then... So maybe it was better that she'd run out ignoring the ring of the phone before lunch. She winced, reprimanding herself for the selfish thought.

"Kim, this is Agent Mulder, I've been unable to reach either AD Skinner or Agent Scully-"

"No one can reach them," she said abruptly before he could finish.

"What do you mean no one? What's happened?"

"I talked to the Assistant Director this morning and made arrangements for him and Agent Scully to pick up the information you had sent here at the Albany County Sheriff's department, but they haven't made it there yet and neither of them can be reached on their cell phones."

"How overdue are they?" he asked, as another head popped in the door of the outer office.

It was Director Stroud's assistant. "Any word?" She whispered ignoring Kim motioning for silence while on the phone.

Kim shook her head then rubbed her temples hard. "Several hours. The Albany County Sheriff has begun a search along the route they were believed to be traveling."

"I need the number for that Sheriff's department, Kim."

"I've got it right here..."

*************************************

A Tasty Freeze

Long Switch, Wyoming

3:37 p.m. MST

Mulder came away from the phone booth quickly, tense. Marylou was almost afraid to ask what the matter was. He had been using the phone for a very long time, making several calls, and writing things down hurriedly on the paper he'd gotten from her. Would she and Sally be going to jail after all? Could he not do anything to help? Would the local authorities not be swayed by his unique and charming power of persuasion?

"It's not good is it?" She asked him, shaking her head, her arms crossed over her chest tightly. "They're going to take us to jail, aren't they?"

Hearing this Sally brought her head up from the seat where she'd been trying to doze.

Mulder looked up distractedly from the scrap of paper he'd written a great deal of information on while he was talking on the phone. He seemed confused by what she was saying.

"Uh, no." He told the two of them, going around to car trunk. "No, not at all. In fact, it looks like Jink and Harley are the ones who may be arrested."

"What?" Sally said getting out of the car, intensely curious about this development.

"Uh, several people at the restaurant apparently called the police stating that Jink and Harley were harassing some patrons and chased them from the property. I didn't get much out in the way of an explanation before they realized we were the patrons involved." He smiled, squinting hard against the afternoon sun. "You're off the hook."

"Woo-hoo!" Sally hooted slapping high five with Marylou.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Marylou sang running to Mulder throwing her arms around his neck.

He laughed. "No problem," he told her withdrawing from her strangle hold of an embrace.

"But something's wrong, isn't it?" Sally intuitively questioned him leaning against the fender.

He looked at her thoughtfully. The tension between them seemed to be fading.

"I can't reach my partner or my superior who she's with," he answered, popping the trunk open. "Actually no one has seen them or been able to reach them since this morning." Neither of the women seemed to know how to respond. Neither did Mulder. "I need to go help look for them."

Sally sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, lifting a single dark brow. "Where do you need to get to now?"

"Don't worry, I'm getting a ride." He smiled thin lipped and pointed over her shoulder at the Sheriff's cruiser rolling into the parking lot of the Tasty Freeze. "Good timing, huh?"

"Couldn't have written it better," she replied with a tilt of her head, her brow arched.

Mulder looked at Marylou. She looked like she was about to cry again, and he felt guilty. He'd known the two of them less than twelve hours but felt as though it was a lifetime. He was going to remember these two... My God, how could he forget, he questioned himself.

"Bye." Marylou said and made a small wave like a little girl, her big dark eyes, and lashes moistening.

"Promise me you two will stay out of trouble." He said retrieving his bag from the trunk.

"Sure thing," Sally assured him, but he didn't feel very assured.

"Take care of yourselves." He shut the trunk and started for the cruiser.

"Aren't you gonna' give her a kiss good-bye or anything?"

Mulder froze. "Huh?"

Sally jerked her thumb in Marylou's direction. "She's so infatuated with you it's making me sick that you can't see it."

Marylou gasped, making a sound as though someone had knocked the wind from her, and threw one hand over her eyes and the other over her heart, devastated by Sally’s outing.

"You live in an interesting world, Sally." Mulder remarked. "Judging by what I've seen and heard in just the few hours that I've known the two of you, my mind reels at the possibilities and repercussions of knowing you any longer."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Sally smiled.

Mulder smiled and set his bag down to pull his ID case out of his jacket, quickly retrieving a card that he took to Marylou. "Hold onto this." He said giving her his business card. She nodded finding it hard to look directly at him. "Be good." He whispered and kissed her cheek.

"I will." She sniffed watching him walk for the cruiser again. "You, too."

*****************************************

Somewhere, Wyoming

The sun had dipped in the sky and shadows were growing long as the day approached its close. And although the light quality across the land had changed the sky remained a brilliant blue contrasted by cottony white puffs of cloud that seemed to stand perfectly still, as if painted in place.

The vista was so overwhelming, Scully thought as she studied the great expanse of azure, unconditionally breathtaking. No wonder there was such romanticism attached to the western half of the United States, one couldn't help but feel inspired and captured by the bold distinction of the land not to mention the rich history that had unfolded across it.

And yes, that was all well and good, but putting aside the awe and wonderment the bare fact still remained— she had been walking a very long time across an all too unpopulated patch of earth. How long, she wondered glancing at her watch only to remember it had stopped working. So much for waterproof.

Chalking up her watch as one more item on her list of things to repair or replace thanks to this assignment she closed the gap between herself and Skinner. "What's the time?" she asked him quietly.

"Late for an appointment?" Bernstein snorted as Skinner checked his wristwatch.

"A quarter to seven," he answered ignoring Bernstein.

She nodded looking disappointed; it was getting very late, and it was beginning to look as though they'd be sleeping alfresco for the night.

"Hmm," she murmured to no one in particular, "definitely not a dead monotonous period under a roof tonight I'm afraid."

Skinner served her with a curious side long glance. She smiled, a little embarrassed and feeling obligated to explain herself. "Travels with a Donkey, by Stevenson, whose justification for sleeping outside is one that describes those who sleep inside experiencing only a blank uneventful slumber while the man who sleeps afield bears witness to the splendor of nature transforming throughout the night."

He looked at her thoughtfully, and after a moment cynically stated, "sounds like he didn't do much sleeping outside."

Scully pressed her mouth closed against an unbidden laugh. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm glad you're finding this predicament we're in so amusing," Bernstein scolded them. "I'm personally not finding a damn thing funny about the aspect of sleeping out in the open."

"You'll change your mind once you've snuggled up next to one of these cows," Skinner nearly smirked.

Scully noticed the slight curl tugging at the corner of his mouth and knew he was as tired and punchy as she was feeling. To hide her smile, she turned away from him, making a sweeping glance around at the cows languidly grazing throughout the area, some mere patches of color in the distance.

They had passed a number of them along their hike, some leisurely stamping back and forth through broken fencing downed by either the previous night's storm or cattle spooked by the storm, but most were clustered together in whatever shade they could find.

Shade, though, seemed be becoming more readily available as the landscape grew hillier and prominently spotted with brush and shrubs, small cropping of trees, looking more and more like a Remington painting sans the characters or horses.

"You speak like a man of experience, Bilko." Bernstein threw back the lame reference.

Regardless of Bernstein's discourteousness there was an underlying truth to his statement. Scully thought about it for a moment, there had been a change, almost imperceptible, but there just the same, in the way Skinner carried himself over the last few hours. She sensed it but until now had not been able to label his air of familiarity with this element.

Scully knew so little about Skinner’s background, where he was from or grew up. Could he have lived in an area like this, she wondered. Or was his ease perhaps the same sense of occidental sentimentalism she'd been thinking of, a sense of freedom within simpler boundaries lessening the steady stress and strain of life?

"I do," Skinner agreed with Bernstein, giving Scully a start. Had she assumed correctly? "Walking up wind of you for so long now, I just thought you'd feel more at home with others that smelt just as bad as you do."

Okay, maybe not, she realized. There was something there she discovered, the dwindling rays of sunlight glinting off a smooth surface.

"There's something over there," she announced pointing.

Both Skinner and Bernstein followed the length of her arm and finger seeing the same glint of light.

"What is that?" Bernstein questioned bending and twisting to get a better look. "It looks like a..."

"An RV." Skinner finished Bernstein's statement.

------------------------------------------------------------

Continued in part 5

#the spider and the fbi #walter skinner #the x files #xfiles #the xfiles #scully #skinner #mulder #xfiles fanfic #skinner scully fanfic

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joealwyndaily · 2 years

Text

He’s about to make you swoon in the new adaptation of the Sally Rooney blockbuster. The actor talks about earning the author’s seal of approval and winning a Grammy alongside Taylor Swift

The plan was to meet Joe Alwyn at an old‑fashioned pub in the area of London where he grew up. It’s a nice pub, tiny, a selection of beers with wacky names on tap, percentage proofs that would make your eyes water. But we both arrive just before noon, and the doors are locked, so we awkwardly hang around outside, peering in through the window, looking to all the world as though we are desperate for a late-morning drink.

I am not sure that Alwyn is as desperate to speak to me, though over the course of a slow and steady pint, he is very polite and easy company. The actor, 31, has been on the brink of being a big star ever since he left drama school in 2015, but his route to fame has run at a slightly different angle from his route to acting success. His partner is Taylor Swift, one of the most famous women on the planet, so there is that. He is tall, handsome, with floppy 90s heart-throb hair. He is quick and funny and confident, low-key in a fleece and jeans.

For a while, we are the only people in the pub. He uses humour to deflect awkwardness, and I suspect it suits him that nobody can hear what we’re saying. Alwyn is about to star as Nick, the married, maudlin actor who has an affair with a student, Frances, in Conversations With Friends. The adaptation is the second of Sally Rooney’s novels to be made into a television series, after the lockdown-fuelled smash hit Normal People. The director of both, Lenny Abrahamson, said he cast Alwyn as Nick in part because he was “soulful”. “What does that mean?” Alwyn splutters. You tell me, Joe. “I’ll take it. I don’t know! So soulful,” he repeats, with a hint of embarrassment.

Rooney had a say in who played her characters. “I was told she was doing this and that,” he says, waggling a thumb up and down. “I mean, not literally doing that, like a gladiator or an emperor. She was involved in casting and watching tapes.” When he got the part, due to his soulfulness presumably, he contacted the author, and they exchanged a few emails. The shoot was going to be in Dublin, where they planned to meet, but late in the day it moved to Belfast. “So we didn’t. But I sent her an email just being like, ‘Thank you’, basically. Thanks for the thumbs up, Sally.” Rooney’s books are full of highly articulate emails and texts. “She does a good email,” he nods. So how did you approach the pressure of emailing her? “Many, many drafts. I did my best email. It just felt really nice to have her blessing.”

Alwyn had read Conversations With Friends and Normal People already, long before his involvement in the former. “I read Normal People before I knew they were making a show out of it, and I remember when I saw it thinking, I’d love to be in something like that.” Normal People’s sex scenes between Connell (Paul Mescal) and Marianne (Daisy Edgar-Jones) became such a talking point that people began to lust over Mescal’s silver chain, as if everything else about him had been exhausted. In Conversations With Friends, Nick has a heated affair with Frances, and Alwyn is fairly regularly, if tastefully, naked in it. “We were guided through it with an intimacy coordinator, Ita O’Brien, who is great,” he says. “They’re essentially choreographed. So they’re like fight scenes. They’re quite mechanical. And obviously they’re weird, funny, strange things to do with your friends. But when Lenny’s in the room, cracking jokes, and there’s 10 crew members around, and it’s freezing cold or boiling hot, it just takes all the sexiness out of it.”

Besides, he says, the sex scenes are there for a reason. “They are kind of extensions of the conversations, in their own way. Each one, hopefully, should feel slightly different and mean something different to the people involved, and they’re not just kind of gratuitously thrown in. But, I mean, obviously, it’s a weird part of the job.”

Normal People and Conversations With Friends are different stories, and different series, in many ways, but if his series follows the Mescal trajectory, is he prepared for the idea that he might become a pin-up? “I honestly just don’t have any thoughts about it,” he says. They only finished filming four months ago. “I haven’t let myself think, ‘Oh God, people are actually going to see it’, so I haven’t thought about that side of things. Which is a boring answer, I know.”

Anyway, this is a serious drama, not a bonkbuster, and it deals with serious themes. Nick is married to Melissa (Jemima Kirke), a successful writer, and their marriage has not always been monogamous. But when Frances (newcomer Alison Oliver) and her best friend and ex-girlfriend Bobby (Sasha Lane) start to entangle themselves in their lives, the four of them are forced to ask grownup questions about love, jealousy and honesty. Nick is certainly a complicated character who runs hot and cold, and he is difficult to pin down. “When you meet him, he’s in a place of recovery – he’s been through a storm and is slightly numb to the world. And he’s just kind of functioning, and we meet that version of him, but we don’t really know why,” Alwyn says. It isn’t until later in the series that we start to learn who he is. “He can be a real enigma, and sometimes frustratingly so. He’s quite aloof and enigmatic and unreadable.”

I am not sure that Alwyn is aloof, but he has more than a touch of the enigmatic and unreadable about him. He has been a steadily successful actor since 2016, when his first job was to star in the Ang Lee-directed Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, alongside Kristen Stewart. He followed it up with smaller roles in a series of award-winning films, including The Favourite, Mary Queen of Scots, and Harriet. He has fronted campaigns for Prada, and has also won a Grammy, after collaborating with Swift on her 2020 album Folklore. Despite all of this, I say, I don’t know very much about you. Few details of his life are public, which he seems to prefer, but it does mean we have to start at the beginning. So you grew up …

“I grew up in this pub,” he cuts in, grinning. “I was born in this garden and I’ve never left. Very happy here, thank you.”

He actually grew up near where we are today, in Tufnell Park, a well-to-do neighbourhood in north London. His mother is a psychotherapist. “I never felt like I was lying down on the couch and being analysed every evening, which is probably a good thing. I managed to escape that. But she’s great with people and great to talk to. People always think that must be strange, having a mum who’s a therapist.” Well, it is interesting. “It definitely is. It’s an amazing job. I actually think if I didn’t do this, I would be interested in doing something like that.”

His father is a documentary film-maker who also teaches film-making. He instilled a love of films in the young Alwyn by giving him stacks of VHS tapes for his birthday and Christmas presents. “He makes fly-on-the-wall, observational human stories. When I was growing up, he was often away, and I remember him being in these far-flung places a lot, bringing back cool gifts for me and my brother.” Did you ever go with him? “I was never invited.” He leaves a beat. “Don’t worry, I spoke to my mum about it,” he quips.

He has two brothers, one older, who works for an NGO, and one much younger, who was born when he was at secondary school, and has just left school himself. Alwyn went to a private boys’ school, on a scholarship and bursary. He enjoyed it, and made a group of friends that he still speaks to all the time, even today. He didn’t really act at school; he mostly played sport. “I was good at football. Tennis. I just like athletics, generally.” He squirms. “‘Just generally’. It sounds so arrogant! ‘All of them’.”

Were people surprised that he wanted to be an actor? “I feel like I’d given enough hints that it wasn’t a complete bombshell when I wanted to do it, but I do think there was probably a feeling of, why?” He studied English and drama at Bristol University, and then went to drama school in London. Immediately after his final showcase, so the fairytale version of the story goes, he signed with an agent and was asked to audition for Lee, the Oscar-winning director of Brokeback Mountain, Sense and Sensibility, and The Ice Storm.

Was it really that simple? “It was as mad as that,” Alwyn says. He sent over a tape, and got a call saying Lee wanted to meet him that weekend. “So they put me on a plane. I hadn’t been to America before.” He landed in New York, in the snow, and immediately went out to find a New York slice of pizza. “Within five days, I’d left school, had a visa and was in boot camp in Atlanta. As it went on, I managed to relax and enjoy it. But at the beginning, in the first week or two of shooting, I was shitting myself.” And then it was over. “Everyone else stayed in America. I had to go back home and walk the dog the next day, it was pouring rain and I was back in this garden,” he smiles. “And life continued.”Advertisement

After Billy Lynn, Alwyn had a run of nasty characters, historical figures, and sometimes both. He was a slave-owner in Harriet, and the son of a Nazi in Operation Finale. In The Favourite, he has a comic turn as Masham, who seduces Emma Stone’s Abigail, dances a silly dance with Rachel Weisz as Lady Sarah, and is a thorn in the side of Olivia Colman’s Queen Anne. “All three of them are amazing. Just down-to-earth, funny, nice people.” He says that it is fascinating to watch Colman work. “Because it can be so easy to sit in the corner full of nerves hyping yourself up for a scene, but she is so chilled and fun and cracking jokes, and then she’s just in it and out, and then it’s done.”

Masham is a supporting character, a small-ish role, but Alwyn decided early on that he would rather take smaller parts with directors he admired than always go for the big, splashy jobs. “There are a couple of things I probably did just because I wanted to work, but I’ve tried to be pretty picky,” he says. Does that require a healthy ego, to be happy to play the supporting role, rather than insisting on being the star? “The idea of being the lead role just for the sake of it seems ridiculous,” he says, then catches himself. He likes to make sure he is being understood. “Well, it doesn’t seem ridiculous. Each to their own. But I’d much rather play an interesting support role in an interesting film. I find that more attractive.”

Since 2016, if the internet is to be believed – details are sparse, and will remain so, largely – Alwyn has been in a relationship with Swift. His film career brought him a level of recognition, but the level of fame he has been exposed to around his relationship is something else entirely. Was that a shock? “It’s not something I think about, unless I’m in situations like this, and someone says, ‘What’s it like?’ and I have to think about what to say about it,” he says, though he does have plenty to say on it, which suggests he has thought about it at least a little bit. He is more clipped when he talks about this side of things, and a bit less jokey, as if practised in being firm. “It’s just not for other people,” he says, of their relationship. “And I don’t say that with aggression.”

He will concede that he can see why people might be interested in it. And people are interested. Her 2019 song London Boy, about fancying a charming, sporty north London boy with lots of mates, is rumoured to be about him, but, other than that, they say very little about each other in public. I tell him I watched a nine-minute compilation on YouTube that collected everything they had said about their relationship in public into one handy video. “Well, I hope that was illuminating,” he says, drily. It wasn’t, actually. “That doesn’t surprise me, because I don’t know what people would be going off.”

He pauses, for what seems like an age. “I don’t know how best to talk about it. I mean, I’m aware of people’s … of that size of interest, and that world existing. It’s just not something I particularly care about, or have much interest in feeding, I guess, because the more it’s fed, the more you are opening a gate for intrusion.” He is aware that this makes him sound guarded. “I think that’s just my response to a culture that has this increasing expectation that everything is going to be given. If you don’t post about the way you make your coffee in the morning, or if you don’t let someone take a picture when you walk out of your front door, is that being private? I don’t know if it is. So I just don’t really feed that.”

His own Instagram is strictly work-based, and there is little hint of anything beyond a film set. “If you and I were having a conversation, and having a shandy in my house, and it wasn’t being recorded, then, of course, other things would be said,” he says, echoing what Swift told this paper in 2019. (“If you and I were having a glass of wine right now, we’d be talking about it – but it’s just that it goes out into the world,” she said, back then.) Did they decide, from the beginning, to have a party line, and not to talk about each other? “Erm. It was just like, well, why? There are more interesting things to talk about and I just think it feeds into a weird part of the culture that I’m not really interested in being a part of.”

One thing he will talk about is their musical collaboration, which turned him into a Grammy winner. I did want to ask about music, I say. “Go for it, and I will sing for you,” he jokes, happier to be back on solid ground. When Swift released Folklore, two of the songs, Betty and Exile, credited a mysterious co-writer called William Bowery. Fans speculated as to who it might be, and Swift later revealed that it was a pseudonym for Alwyn, who also co-wrote some of the songs on its follow-up, Evermore. “That was a surreal bonus of lockdown,” he says, checking himself. “That’s an understatement.”

What was it like to work with your other half, in her line of business? “It wasn’t like, ‘It’s five o’clock, it’s time to try and write a song together,’” he says. “It came about from messing around on a piano, and singing badly, then being overheard, and being, like, ‘Let’s see what happens if we get to the end of it together.’ ” He liked it because there were no expectations and no pressure. “I mean fun is such a stupid word, but it was a lot of fun. And it was never a work thing, or a ‘Let’s try and do this because we’re going to put this out’ thing. It was just like baking sourdough in lockdown.” But not everyone’s sourdough resulted in a Grammy. “The Grammy was obviously this ridiculous bonus.”

Did he have any musical ambitions before this? “I like music, and I played a bit of guitar awfully in a school band when I was 12.” They were called Anger Management, and they covered Marilyn Manson’s version of the Eurythmics’ Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This). “I can play piano pretty badly, but never with the intent of, ‘Right, it’s time for my jazz-fusion album.’” He grins. “Unfortunately.”

He’s joking, but if a jazz-fusion album does emerge one day, it wouldn’t be such a curveball. He is about to take some time off and has no immediate jobs lined up, he says, which is fine by him, as last year was so busy. His recent work indicates a Robert Pattinson-style swerve into the arthouse. He had a small role in Joanna Hogg’s The Souvenir: Part II, and his next two films will be Stars at Noon, an adaptation of a Denis Johnson novel directed by Claire Denis, and Catherine, Called Birdy, a medieval comedy directed by Lena Dunham. “Again, I think that all comes from working with Ang Lee, and the luxury of that at the beginning,” he says. “I would just much rather do that for now and ‘build’, which sounds awful,” he says, beginning to collapse into a cringe, “and like, oh, grow as an actor, which also sounds awful.” He looks mortified. “Do you know what I mean?”

I think I know what he means. He sounds like someone who is satisfied with life as it is, and where it’s about to take him. We finish our pints. Alwyn is heading off to meet someone on Hampstead Heath, and we shake hands, politely, as we say goodbye. He heads out into the street, eyes on the path just ahead.

Conversations With Friends starts on BBC Three and BBC iPlayer on 15 May.

#joe alwyn #interview #conversations with friends #taylor swift #the guardian saturday #william bowery

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