#my computer has Not been cooperating the past couple days but i think everything's back to normal

[gallavichthings]

It’s finally time to interview the hottest new sensation in the fandom, the self-proclaimed fluff queen, Grayola aka @gallavichy​, author of fics you have definitely heard of, like her wips Cooperative Gameplay and Everything About You, sequence to the super acclaimed Like Real People Do, and her one-shot Inside This Room For Two.

GT: tell us a bit about yourself.

G:I was always someone who agonized over the “about me” section of their social media profile, so this is hard. 😆 I’m Gray. I’m a Pisces. I was born and lived just outside Atlanta until I was 17. I’m the middle child in a very large family, which I feel explains a lot about me. When I was 12, I hand-wrote Lizzie McGuire fanfiction for an English assignment, my teacher wrote me kind comments, and I genuinely think that changed my life. I love writing. I’ve been in and out of online fandoms since I was a young teenager, but Shameless is really the only one in which I’ve ever actually engaged and talked with people, my past experiences being simply writing things and staying on the outskirts. I love music. I’m a literature instructor. I tend to be long-winded because I can never figure out how to end things. 

GT: As a teacher, that's very nice to hear, that we can actually make a difference in people's lives.

How did you discover fanfiction? Or did you just happen to write it without ever reading it before?

G: Yeah, definitely! I was always a creative kid, always a daydreamer, always coming up with little stories, and an adult I admired praising my silly fanfiction about three characters being best friends and taking down a bully gave me a sense of validation I think I really needed--especially coming from a family in which no one cared or understood my desire to write stuff like that. Teachers are the best.

That’s really how I started writing fanfiction. It’s ALWAYS been the way I engaged in fandom, even when I didn’t post anything. I was always a kid who’d write stories about characters in movies or TV shows I liked. It wasn’t until I was around 13-14 that I learned fanfiction was a legit thing that people wrote and posted online. That was the age when I got really into fan forums and stuff like that--mostly Harry Potter--and I remember there being threads in which a person would type and post fic, bit by bit, in the replies. I never posted anything, but I read and wrote a little. I used to have a password protected document on the family computer where I’d write all my stories. Everything was super tame, no romance plots, I didn’t even swear in my writing, but fic has always been a super private thing for me, and I kept it a secret.

GT: When did you start posting your stories?

G: Back in LJ days when I was a teenager, I posted a couple things on my own personal journal but didn't promo them or post to any communities, so I think I only had maybe 2-3 readers. But then when I was in college, I posted a couple things for the QAF fandom. I still didn't get many readers, and I gave it up pretty quickly, as it was at the tail-end of my interest in the show and just before I moved on to other things, but it gave me enough confidence to keep going. It felt like a baby step.

GT: When did you start watching Shameless?

G:I'm very much a newcomer to the show. I didn't start watching it until December '19/January '20, so I'm one of those fans who came over from Netflix.

GT: What made you enjoy Gallavich?

G: Because I was able to watch all the way through season 9 on Netflix, then got a Showtime subscription through Hulu so I could catch up with season 10, I think shipping Ian/Mickey was a natural thing for me, as I was able to view the complete arc of their growth and development as characters and partners. Plus, they are the epitome of the exact dynamic I love--enemies to friends to lovers--and I genuinely fell in love with them as characters, rooted for them, felt heartbreak with them, and wanted so badly for them to be happy.

GT: Do you prefer writing Ian or Mickey?

G: I like writing Mickey through Ian’s eyes. I like writing Ian falling in love with him, caring for him. I like writing Ian experiencing Mickey's love for him. ♥️

GT: That's adorable. What's the best thing about writing them?

G:The thing about Ian/Mickey is that their dynamic can be applied to so many different scenarios that I feel like you can literally do anything with them. Additionally, their personal backstories and struggles are compelling from a writer’s standpoint. I always want to explore them because in many very general ways I relate to them, and I want to bring the characters love and healing as much as I can in a way that I think is sort of therapeutic for me. Mickey has so many feelings that he keeps inside because he doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to feel them. Ian, I think, has so many self-worth issues stemming from his experiences. I want to bring these characters hope, growth, and happiness because they deserve it.

GT: What do you struggle with when writing them?

G: I’m a fluff queen. I love writing softness and kindness. So I think my biggest struggle is sometimes writing my fluffy stories and keeping them passably in character. As a writer who’s writing for a very specific purpose (for the enjoyment of it, to tell happy, sweet stories), I’m a-okay with softening canonical Ian/Mickey in a way that some people who are super loyal to canon interpretations would find a little OOC. But! I still want to maintain their essential characterizations, even if the context has been shifted, allowing them to develop into slightly softer versions of themselves. I loved Ian/Mickey dancing and singing together in the bathroom in 11x07, as well as a lot of Ian’s sweet little lines (“Do you wanna make dinner together?” “‘Cause you’re my husband…”) in the most recent episodes because that’s absolutely something my characters would do/say, and it was sort of validating in a way lol. I remain convinced that Ian/Mickey are absolute softies, despite what the series decides to show us.

GT: They are, I agree. But they're also a product of their upbringings, so if you change that, as one does in an AU, it's reasonable to say that a lot of their behaviors would be different as well.

You said you're a fluff queen. Is that what you enjoy writing the most, fluffy stories?

G: I like to write super-long slow burns in which both characters have massive crushes on the other but no one's admitting feelings until the last possible second, then endings that are hopefully just feel-good fluff. I write what makes me feel good. I do like writing angst, but mostly angst born of personal/emotional stuff. For example, in my fic "Cooperative Gameplay," Mickey's struggling with issues related to his dad, and he doesn't want Ian to know about it, so he builds up walls that frustrate Ian to no end because he doesn't understand what's going on with him and Mickey isn't sharing. And then all my fics sort of have a running theme of "he doesn't like me the way I like him" until that's straightened out. That kind of thing is a lot of fun to write.

GT: It's a lot of fun to read too! Where do you get the inspiration from when coming up with the plot?

G: Things in my life, and things I'm into, mostly. I actually had planned to write "Like Real People Do" as a quarantine-based fic in which Ian and Mickey were using an app meant to connect people during COVID quarantine. But then I decided I didn't actually want to deal with COVID in the fic, so I tried to come up with another way Ian and Mickey could meet, still through the app premise, and made Ian an escort working through an app, instead. I've always loved reading texting/epistolary fanfic, so LRPD was my way of indulging. And then with "Cooperative Gameplay," I'm a gamer--super casually--and I was thinking about s1 Mickey playing video games, and it seemed fun to work with, Mickey as a gamer/streamer. I'm also really interested in fandom dynamics, especially on social media, and I've found it fun to explore that through this fic.

GT: What's your writing process like?

G: I outline a fic to death before I write a single word of it. That way, the writing process is basically just taking my bullet points and putting them into a cohesive story. I tend to write in large chunks for hours at a time over the span of several days rather than little by little over a longer period, and when I'm done with a chapter, I like to sleep on it before I edit and then post it once I'm done.

GT: Do you do any research for your fics?

G: Yes, definitely--particularly location stuff. It helps a fic feel "real" to me when I'm able to place the characters in real locations (real hotels, real restaurants, attractions, etc.), so I tend to use Google Maps while I write. I like to use street view and walk down the streets/explore the areas where my characters will be. I also almost always have my characters get meals from real restaurants in the area, even if I don't always name the restaurant, so I research local restaurants and their menus. My most recent "Cooperative Gameplay" chapter primarily takes place in LA, so I found myself on hiking blogs finding the best trails to see the Hollywood sign, using street view to plan my characters' routes around the city, etc. It's a little exhausting sometimes, and I often find myself with 10+ tabs open while I'm writing, but it ultimately makes me feel closer to my characters and the stories I'm telling.

GT: I do the same thing with the menus, I totally get it. It might not seem important, but it does help make the story more real, both in our heads and in the imagination of those reading it.

Which other characters from the show do you enjoy? Do you include them in your fics?

G: I adore Lip and think he's had the most relatively consistently solid storylines for most of the show's run. When it comes to writing him, I do love a good brothers moment, so he always makes an appearance to hang out with Ian and talk about life and Mickey. I also like Mandy a lot, but mostly s1 Mandy. In my fics, I love giving Mickey an annoying little sister he secretly loves and protects and Ian a best friend with whom he can be a silly teen/young adult.

GT: What about OCs? How and when do you create them?

G: I do love giving Ian and Mickey OC friends. Typically, they come in the form of giving Ian someone his age with whom to hang out and talk and giving Mickey a figure in his life that can love, guide, and make him feel safe and cared for. In LRPD, he has an elderly landlady with whom he develops a grandchild-grandparent relationship and in CG, he has an older agent friend who acts as his big sister but also does her share of mothering him. I think these characters come purely out of my desire for them to have people to love them platonically, outside the bounds of romance. Especially considering where they are at the beginning of my fics, they desperately need support, kindness, and care.

GT: I do wish the show had given them more canon friendships. Let's backtrack a little: tell me about your usernames on Tumblr and on AO3. Why did you choose them?

G: I really wish I was someone who had a meaningful username they've stuck with since the beginning of their fandom life, but I really just don't. I have zero emotional attachments to my usernames and typically create a new one for every fandom because I've never been super active and certainly not "known" before--at least enough to maintain a username lol. "Grayola" is just gray + Crayola like the crayon. And then "gallavichy" is just gallavich with the "y" suffix because suffixes after names/ships/objects were popular on Tumblr at the time I registered. I honestly sort of dislike it because it weirdly doesn't feel like me and will probably change it at some point if I can be bothered lol

GT: Well, you're definitely renowned now! What kinds of comments have you been getting? Which are your favorites?

G: My readers are some of the kindest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of interacting with, and anything they leave is absolutely cherished. I have a particular fondness for genuine reaction comments, like emojis and exclamatory phrases. They make me laugh. I love the people who take the time to leave me in-depth, analytical comments that leave me in awe. I adore hearing from people who have been impacted emotionally in positive ways by my fic. Those are the ones that really sit with me. Especially comments I’ve received on LRPD. In it, Mickey’s a 26-year-old with zero relationship experience, and I’ve heard from some folks around that age and older in a similar boat who have told me that it made them feel less alone and gave them hope that they’d find love one day. Those are really special to me. At the end of the day, that’s why I write.

GT: That's very sweet. I've seen a lot of fanart for your fics as well!

G: Yes! They're amazing! I'm so blown away that anyone would take the time to do that for something I've written. And they're all exceptionally talented! The art gives me the warm fuzzies. It's seriously the coolest thing, and I get so happy every time I see it!

GT:  Let's talk about the reading side of you now. What are some of your favorite tropes when reading?

G: Enemies to friends to lovers in the absolute most painfully slow transition as possible. I love a slow burn so much. Sometimes I completely lose interest in a fic once the pairing officially gets together. It's all about the anticipation for me!

GT: What kinds of fics do you avoid?

G: Major character death because my heart can't take it. Abuse in any form. I'm also not really into fics that go to super dark places, which surprises me because when it comes to non-fandom lit I like to read, the darker the better. I think I just tend to go to fic to feel soft, warm things with the characters I love as a source of comfort.

GT: Safe to say you haven't read Teenagers Scare The Living Shit Out of Me then?

What are some of your favorite fics and/or writers in the fandom?

G: I haven’t, but not actually for that reason! I just haven’t been able to start it yet. It’s on my Marked for Later list on AO3. The premise for that one actually sounds super great, I’ve heard it’s amazing, and Mellow_Yellow is an incredible writer. I love “Boy in the Box.” I guess the “dark” places I refer to are more the central pairing having a violent, obsessive, and borderline abusive relationship. Maybe “dark relationship places” is how I should’ve phrased it. Nothing even comes to mind in this fandom, really, but I have vivid memories of reading fics like that in previous fandoms that were objectively great but made me feel a bit uneasy.

My favorite fic is “Love is a Ballfield” by and_i_take_it. I could go on and on about that Ian and Mickey. I love everything by pink_ink, who is just such an incredible writer. Anything by BeckyHarvey29 [@beckyharvey29 ​.] Loftec [@loftec ​]. horror_business. “Two of Your Earth Minutes” by @the-rat-wins ​. “UnReal” and “Camp Kiabi'' by clovesfanfic. DodgerBear’s stuff makes me so happy. And the fic I keep coming back to because of the precious s2 summer feels is “Seal My Fate” by allyasavedtheday. I could talk all day about that one, too.

GT: Those are some great recommendations right there. As for TSTLSOOM, I agree that the theme is not something I'd chose to read normally, I remember I couldn't read it during the night because I was literally scared I'd have a nightmare, but it's so brilliantly done that I had to read it. And Boy in The Box is also incredible.

Let's talk about Shameless. What is your favorite season and why?

G: Season 4! 4x11 and 4x12, especially, are god-tier in every way. The writing is incredible, it has episodes that hit emotionally in extraordinarily impactful ways, and it's such a strong season for Mickey's character. Then it has the ending that marks the beginning of the arc of Ian and Mickey dealing with Ian's bipolar diagnosis, and though it obviously doesn't end well at the end of season 5, I do love that arc and what it reveals about the characters' love for each other.

GT:  Mickey humping the police car was an iconic moment.

G: Yes! His lines there and "You've got a demon mind and a devil's womb and heart. And your coochie smells of brimstone and sulfur!!" are my favorite lines from the show to quote. lol

GT: Oh my god, I miss Sheila! She was one of my favorite characters. And that scene was also iconic. Do you have a favorite Gallavich scene?

G: My favorite scene is “Sorry I’m late.” It's so beautiful and tender. Every time I see it, I have to watch it over and over again. Many of the Ian/Mickey scenes dealing with Ian’s bipolar, really. They tug at my heartstrings. Also, more recently, the 11x11 “barbarian” bed scene. “You’re my husband.” Literal heart-eyes.

GT: What did you think of the last seasons? Did you like the way it ended?

G: In general, I have a pretty high tolerance for bad endings due to past experiences. I had a mini-breakdown when I reached the end of QAF and Brian and Justin parted ways. The last episode of Sherlock s4 was bad enough that at first we all thought it was a fake cut after it leaked and we saw it early. So the ending of Shameless didn't truly bother me, though I genuinely hated how open everything was left because it feels super lazy. I like an open ending, but this was open to the point of making much of the season feel pointless. And overall, I just really wish the season had hit the ground running with the types of episodes that started popping up mid-season. Ian/Mickey's arc alone, they wasted so much time on them fighting that all the actual serious, emotional stuff that hit later in the season felt rushed and like it wasn't properly resolved. It kind of felt as if at the end of the season, they were just getting to where I wanted them to be all season long. And Lip's ending killed me, though I get it. I just really wanted something to look up for him, even though I feel like it definitely will in the future. Overall, I'm really happy with what it gave us Ian/Mickey wise in the end, the two of them having no doubt the best ending of the bunch. I just wish the season as a whole had leaned much more into drama rather than comedy, and I ultimately wish that the finale was more like 7x12, which I thought was excellent. I was absolutely banking on the characters coming out at the end, breaking the fourth wall, and telling us to leave, that it was over, and I'm slightly annoyed that they didn't do it because I feel like it would've been such a great touch lol. Out of all the seasons, s11 sort of feels like one of the only ones that I probably won't spend much time rewatching. But that's fine. That's what fanfic's for--to fill in all the gaps and to solve all the problems with canon.

"The ending of Shameless didn't truly bother me" I say and then proceed to list a series of complaints. lol

GT: Do you have any headcanons for their future?

G: I like to think Ian and Mickey are going to become super successful with their business (though it makes me anxious as hell that they're carrying around weapons while on parole). They'll stay at their West Side apartment for a few years, but I think they'll buy a house eventually, probably South Side, and then they'll obtain a kid they're able to give an incredible life. I hope they get financially comfortable enough that they're able to travel a bit when their parole's over. They deserve a nice, long beach vacation--maybe a belated honeymoon. I think they'll have a life that's more stereotypically "American Dream, married with 2.5 kids" than Mickey ever expected to have and one that Ian always hoped to have, but I think they'll also stick to their roots, not afraid to throw down when they have to, willing to do whatever it takes for their family. They're going to be together forever. I think they're the only couple who will last until the end. I think Lip and Tami are going to one day part ways but will be good, amicable co-parents. I think Debbie's going to struggle with relationships for most of her life. I think Carl's going to have a few [more] kids from some relationships, maybe a marriage and divorce in there somewhere, but then will eventually find someone to settle down with for the long haul. And I think Liam's going to be reasonable and responsible and will focus on other things until he's in his late-30s. Ian and Mickey, though? Beginning to end. Lasting. Sustainable.

GT: I love that. If you could change one Gallavich scene, which would you chose?

G: It’s tough for me to separate the horrible 5x12 break-up and subsequent lack of Mickey from the behind-the-scenes drama, but I just wish there had been a better way to deal with the Mickey situation rather than the complete implausibility of him being sentenced to prison for so many years for what he did to Sammi. And y'know, I also really hated them beating the crap out of each other in 11x03. I'm really glad that they seemed to have grown away from that behavior later in the season, but watching them engaged in such a violent act as a married couple was painful. I kind of just wish that scene didn't exist at all and that the two of them expressed their frustrations in a different way and were able to maturely work on their communication in the aftermath.

GT: I wholeheartedly agree, 5x12 was pure bullshit and made no sense at all. And yes, I don't understand why the writers insist on them physically fighting.

Finally, I know you have a couple of WIPs, but do you have any other projects in the works?

G: I'm currently writing, little by little, a one-shot of Ian and Mickey "obtaining" a baby. It takes place about 2 years post-canon and is a lot of fun, though I'm not sure where it's going quite yet. It's going to be a one-shot in an eventual series of one-shots, but I'm still working with the big picture. We'll see where it goes!

GT: Sounds great, I can't wait! 😍 That's all, thank you so, so much for taking the time to do this. Any final words? A message for your many fans?

G: Thank you for interviewing me! This was fun, and these are so cool! I love reading them! My "many fans" 😭😭 Stop! Haha. My readers are amazing and bring so much joy to my life. I'd just like to thank them for their support, for taking the time out of their days to read my silly little stories, and for being truly kind people who make me laugh and smile even when I don't feel like it sometimes. They are absolutely cherished and give me motivation to keep doing what I like to do, and for that, I'll be forever grateful. ❤️️

GT: They're far from "silly little stories" I am sure you bring a small to their faces as well when they read them. Thank you, you were a delight. ❤️

G: ❤️️❤️️❤️️ Thank YOU!

#gallavich #ian x mickey #shameless us #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fanfiction #shameless #writer's spotlight #gallavichy

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 13: I Have Trust Issues But Okay

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain. We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. We tried to keep a low profile because Percy and I's name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. It seemed like when they saw me with Percy they realized me and my family are gone. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as we got off the Greyhound bus. Percy had a wild look in my eyes. His sword was a metallic blur in his hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick. I was holding his hand with my knife on the other hand. The picture's caption read: Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. It has been found out one of which is Y/N L/N, a twelve-year-old girl who went missing with her family during a trip. Percy Jackson's stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told Percy. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure. The rest of the day we spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows. Calm Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, the adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines, Percy and I saw an amazed look. Another time, toward evening, Percy said he saw something huge moving through the woods. He swore it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and it was the size of a Hummer, then it leaped through the trees and was gone. I told him he might have been seeing things and Annabeth agreed. Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats. My neck got stiff. I sat between Percy and Annabeth. Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking Percy up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed. "So," Annabeth asked me, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants Percy's help?" "What do you mean?" "You heard it too didn't you? When he was asleep just now, he mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Has he told you what he's dreaming about?" "Gossiping about me?" Percy yawned. "Pretty much everyone is. So I think we'll join." I said. "Annabeth wants to know about your dream. I could tell he was reluctant to say anything. It was the second time he'd dreamed about it. Then he finally told her. Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "If you think it's Hades, that doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs." She pointed out. "He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?" We could. If you bring us together we could trade. "What?" Percy and Annabeth looked at me in worry. "Something on my face? Is there something close?" "Y/N, you did it again." Percy said. "Did what?" "You... Talked. Differently. Like weirdly." "Your definition of weird doesn't describe me. I did nothing wrong. I haven't even given an in put on your topic. Which we should get back on." I don't know why I had no idea what they meant by me talking weirdly, but I felt like I should stay away from that topic. "I guess ... if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?" She explained looking at me as if I was the one that needed convincing. I shook my head, wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover had told me, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something. Where is it? Where? Maybe Grover sensed my emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head. Percy readjusted Grover's cap so it covered his horns. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time-" "This time?" I asked. "You mean you've run into them before?" Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom." "What would you do if it was your dad?" "That's easy," she said. "I'd leave him to rot." "You're not serious?" Annabeth's gray eyes fixed on me. She wore the same expression she'd worn in the woods at camp, the moment she drew her sword against the hellhound. "My dad's resented me since the day I was born," she said. "He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work. She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent." "But how ... I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital...." "I appeared on my father's doorstep, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd take some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to him. When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend I didn't exist." I stared out the train window. The lights of a sleeping town were drifting by. I wanted to make Annabeth feel better. I don't know but the only way I could think of was a hug. So I wrapped and arm around her shoulders. She stiffened unsure of what I'd done. "My parents, they loved me all the same. The closet I got to talking about Gods was when they thought me. Not a single hint was dropped about me being a halfblood. I mean if you count my grandma Hestia. Which I think is just named after the goddess. I mean yeah, you had a not so wonderful life... But at least you're who you are now." I smiled at her. Eying Percy I gave him a nod towards Annabeth telling him to comfort her since he'd started it anyway. "My mom married a really awful guy," he told her. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking." Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads. It occurred to me that the ring must be her father's. I wondered why she wore it if she hated him so much. "He doesn't care about me," she said. "His wife-my stepmom-treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened-you know, something with monsters-they would both look at me resentfully, like, 'How dare you put our family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away." "How old were you?" "Same age as when I started camp. Seven." "But ... you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself." "Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me, for a short time, anyway." I wanted to ask what happened, but Annabeth seemed lost in sad memories. Luke had already told me some of these part where he went here with Annabeth and Thalia. So I gazed out the train windows as the dark fields of Ohio raced by. Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city. "I want to do that," she sighed. "What?" I asked. "Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Y/N?" "Only in pictures." "Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years." Percy laughed. "You? An architect?" Her cheeks flushed. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention." "Percy! I think she'll be incredible." I pinched his arm. We watched the churning brown water of the Mississippi below. I took Percy's hand in fear that the water would just grab me and drag me down. "Sorry," Annabeth said. "That was mean." I nudged Percy to apologize as well, "I didn't mean to make fun of you. I'm sorry." "Can't you two work together a little?" I pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?" Annabeth had to think about it. "I guess ... the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete." "Then you two can cooperate, too. Right?" We rode into the city, Annabeth watching as the Arch disappeared behind a hotel. "I suppose," she said at last. We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we'd have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver. Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food." "Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing." "Sightseeing?" "The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?" Grover, Percy and I exchanged looks. I wanted to say no, but seeing the stars in Annabeth's as she watched, she was too adorable to say no to. Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters." The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. It wasn't all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about how the Arch was built, and Grover kept passing me jelly beans, so I was okay. I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" Percy murmured to Grover. He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything." I took a peek at my knife and saw there was a very weak glow, or maybe a sunlight reflection. Somewhere in between. "Guys," I said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?" Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?" "Well, Hade-" Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place.... You mean, our friend downstairs?" "Um, right," I said. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?" "You mean the Helm of Darkness," Annabeth said. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting." "He was there?" Percy asked. She nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus-the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than my invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true...." "It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?" "But then ... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" I asked. Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks. "We don't," Grover said. "Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," Percy said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?" Someone else could be watching. Hades isn't the only one to blend in the shadow young vessel. But worry not, all in the darkness, shall be your ally. So Hades will also be my ally? As air and water refuse, land and all there is shall be your ally. Can't I be allies with all? Hades, Zeus, Poseidon. Everyone. The three of them looked at me in surprise. "Don't say their name!" Grover whispered loudly. "Whose name? I haven't said a name!" I could talk through you young vessel. Is this the first time this happened? How can you forget about our conversation? Talk through me? Who are you? I am one of which that'll make sure you become one with yourself. "Y/N!!" Percy yelled. "What? Geez, you're too loud." "We've been calling your name for three minutes." Annabeth said. "Are you... Okay?" "Yeah why wouldn't I be?" When the tiny elevator car came. We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it. We started going up, inside the Arch. I'd never been in an elevator that went in a curve, and my stomach wasn't too happy about it. "No parents?" the fat lady asked us. She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp. "They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights." "Oh, the poor darlings." The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious. I said, "Sonny. Is that his name?" "No," the lady told me. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up. At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but if there's anything I like less than a confined space, it's a confined space six hundred feet in the air. I was ready to go pretty quick. I could see Percy was too. So I took his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze to calm him down despite my breakdown. Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. I steered Annabeth while Percy with Grover, toward the exit, loaded them into the elevator, and we were about to get in myself when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me. The park ranger said, "Next car, sir." "We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you two." But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I said, "Naw, it's okay. We'll see you guys at the bottom. I'll keep an eye on him." Grover and Annabeth both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp. Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua. Percy and I smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth. Wait a minute. Forked tongue? Before I could decide if I'd really seen that, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at Percy. "Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here." "Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!" His parents pulled him back. The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips. "Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist." Ice started forming in my stomach. "Urn, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?" "Chimera, dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make." She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's. The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar. The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralyzed, gaping at the monster. The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA-RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS-IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS-EXT. 954. I immediately pulled out my knife. And waited for the moment to jump in front of Percy who was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge. The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter. "Be honored, Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!" Percy and I stared at each other for a second stared at her. All he could think to say was: "Isn't that a kind of anteater?" She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage. "I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!" The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to take Percy's arm to pull him aside and dodge the bite. We ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors. I couldn't let them get hurt. I positioned myself able to parry any oncoming attack. Percy uncapped his sword, ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, "Hey, Chihuahua!" The Chimera turned faster than I would've thought possible. Before he could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at him. Percy dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, I could feel it where I stand and it was like I was in a sauna. Where Percy had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges. Great, I thought. We just blowtorched a national monument. As the Chimera turned, Percy slashed at its neck. That was a fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I saw the serpent tail lifted it whipped around and with all I could I ran and raised my knife to block it. Percy tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around his ankles and pulled him off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River. I pulled a weaponless Percy behind me and raised my small one. We backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?" The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish us off now that we were beaten. I glanced at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people. I couldn't just ... die. I was facing a massive, fire-breathing monster and its mother. And I was scared. There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Trust our hero. Jump with him. He had sworn to save us. Far, far below, the river glittered. Percy and I shared a reluctant and fearful look. If we died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone? "If you are the son of Poseidon," Echidna hissed, "you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline. Maybe your small friend could survive with you." We both knew the water hated me. But I trusted Percy. I'd jump if he told me. The Chimera's mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast. "Either you have no faith," Echidna told me. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little cowards. Better you die now. The gods are faithless." Percy took my hand and backed up, he looked down at the water. Percy looked at me and smiled. I knew what he wanted. Holding his hand tighter, I got closer to him. "Die, faithless one," Echidna rasped, and the Chimera sent a column of flame toward our faces. "Father, please," I heard Percy say. "Don't hurt her. Help us." We turned and jumped. Our clothes on fire, we plummeted toward the river.

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@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #X Reader #pjo #Lightning thief #Chapter 13 #Book 1 #Fanfiction #Fanfictions

[jpegjade]

insecure! - Spencer

we’ve got some insecurities in the house!! this is fic 2 of the day so i feel okay with things again. it’s another fluffy ending and some honesty.

request: ((I CANT FIND IT ON MY PAGE SO IM PARAPHRASING)): Could you do a fic where the reader is insecure and Spencer figures it out?

________________________

“Y/n, why don’t you like yourself?” Spencer asked, looking up at you. 

You and Spencer were sitting in the coffee shop, both of you writing. Spencer was writing something by hand but didn’t want you to know so you didn’t bother as you continued to type on your computer. You were in the middle of finishing incomplete paperwork for your boss, who graciously stacked files on your desk to do instead of his actual assistant’s desk. 

“What makes you think I hate myself, Spencer?” You said, not looking up. 

You were purely focused on the document in front of you, wondering where some of these random words came from. There were words that you knew didn’t belong anywhere on the report and yet, here they were. This had to be the work of his assistant because your boss might be dumb but he wasn’t this stupid. 

“Not hate, that’s different. You don’t like yourself. Why?” Spencer looked up from what he was writing on paper. 

You never tried to read Spencer’s horrendous penmanship because it was just terrible sometimes, especially when he was rushing or tired. But you knew how to read it when you cared to look at it. Quickly glancing over the paper, upside down from where you were sitting across from him, all you could see was the word, ‘wow,’ which meant he was writing his letter to his mom. 

“What has gotten into you? I like myself just fine” You asked, looking at his sweater vest. It had a weird pattern on it. 

“You’re avoiding the question.” Spencer was being persistent and it was getting on your nerves. 

You looked at Spencer, finally making eye contact. You were pretty sure there was something bothering him but you didn’t know what it was and you didn’t want to pry in Spencer’s life if he didn’t want to tell you what it was. 

Spencer had been acting weird the entire time the two of you were together today. He didn’t have a case, just doing paperwork at the office so he got off early. He immediately wanted to hang out with you, no matter where it was. 

“What’s wrong?” You squinted at him.

“Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to know since you don’t look at your reflection often, if ever.” Spencer was so matter-of-fact when he wanted to be. 

“Just because I don’t want to look at my reflection, you assume I hate myself?” You lowered your computer screen a little bit so Spencer could see your face. 

“Not hate. Again, that’s a completely different conversation.” Spencer studied your face intensely. 

“Spencer, are you really making me justify myself to you? Are you actually starting this over me not particularly liking what I see when I look at myself?” You said through gritted teeth. “Do I really need to appease the good doctor with an explanation?” 

“I would like an answer so yes.” Spencer obviously didn’t pick up on the sarcasm. Or if he did, he was blatantly ignoring it. 

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t cooperate. I just don’t like how I look most of the time. I think my face is all wrong, misshapen in some areas. I see myself and I think about how I’m not… Right. I’m just wrong and looking at my reflection is a reminder of that.” You said, unable to look at Spencer. You looked at the hot barista behind the counter who wasn’t paying attention to you at all. 

“Okay. And why don’t you like the rest of you? Why don’t you like who you really are?” Spencer pressed a little bit more. You didn’t know why but he was on a tear today. 

“Spencer, what are you trying to do? Remind me of everything I work so hard to shove down every day? Fine. I will tell you. I’m dumb. I can’t keep up with anyone because my head is wired differently than any normal person. I have one friend. Everyone else left me because I was too much to handle, according to each of them. I’m a quitter. Things get hard and I shut down without any explination. I’m the literal definition of a loser and you wouldn’t get any of that because you’re… You. You walk into any given room and you’re automatically the smartest person there. You’re qualified for everything under the sun and you’re sure as hell beautiful. You really wanna know why I don’t remotely like myself, Spencer? I’m a bottom feeder. And compared to you? I might as well not exist.” You finished with a sigh. 

Spencer looked stunned into silence, which was rare but possible. He was absolutely astounded to hear everything you just listed put together, in one descriptionn. He wasn’t expecting this but you weren’t expecting his rebuttle, either. 

“Do you really believe that, all of that, about yourself?” Spencer asked. 

“I wouldn’t say it for shits and giggles, Spencer.” You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms. 

“Oh.” There was a silent pause in the crowded coffee shop. It was quite loud and you weren’t sure if it had always been that noisy or if the noise grew louder over the past couple minutes. 

“Well believe me when I say this…” Spencer leaned forward over the table and you huffed before leaning forward to listen to Spencer. 

“I wish I was you.” He said before leaning back in his chair. His hands were tapping on the table nervously. 

“You what? Spencer, that's one sick joke after having me open up to you.” You said, sitting back and rolling your eyes. 

“I’m serious. I would trade lives with you in a heartbeat most of the time.” He said, nodding his head. 

“Are you on something? Tell me you’re not back on drugs, Spencer.” You said in all seriousness. 

“No, y/n. I would switch lives with you and I’ll tell you why.” He took a breath, 

“You’re versatile. You can blend in or stand out, depending on how you feel at that moment. You have the choice to try or not when it comes to impressing people. You can stun them immediately or you can let them be amazed gradually. I will always be the baby of any group and I need to work three times as hard to get a note of recognition that I’m in the room, even if they’re impressed with my credentials. People like you. They may not stick around all the time but who needs them? They like you because you have a way with people that I clearly don’t have. You don’t have to pretend that snide comments or getting shut down in the middle of a thought you’re excited about doesn’t bother you. All these things and more. I wish I could be you.” 

“Spencer...” You reached your arm across the table to put on top of his fidgeting hand. 

“You aren’t the only one who wishes things were different, y/n. We just have to accept that the things we hate about ourselves may be the reason someone falls in love with us or it might be the deciding factor in a friendship. Some of the things you hate brought me to loving you because I think about them differently. If someone is supposed to be in your life, they won’t make you feel like there’s any reason to hate yourself because you’re special to them. Not just the parts that they want, all parts of you are special. And y/n, all of you is special to me, whether you like it or not.” Spencer smiled. 

“Doctor Reid, did you just say you loved me?” You said, teasing him. 

“I was speaking generally.” He said, trying to backtrack. It was too late. 

“You generally meant me though, right?” You continued. He looked happy again. 

“Yes, y/n, I meant you. I do love you.” Spencer said with a big, cheesy smile.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #cm

[aconboyindependent2021]

‘Now and Then’ - current state of play

My film is a re-imagining of the site of Brighton General Hospital next to my home. Until around 70 years ago, a workhouse operated on the site (for details, see: Gardner, J, (2012) A History of the Brighton Workhouses). Aspects of the austere workhouse are still evident on the site today. I began to think about the stories of the residents of the workhouse – what did they have to endure? With this in mind, I bought the above book by a local author about the history of workhouses in Brighton.

I have always been fascinated by the idea that traumatic events in a particular location can be recorded and replayed at a later time in history and that this might be a basis for ghosts and hauntings – for example, in the blockbuster, Poltergeist, and the BBC drama from the 1970’s The Stone Tapes (Sasdy, 1972). This is one of the key concepts behind the film.

After a lot of thought, I settled on the story of the workhouse being told by a single woman, Agatha, whose infant child was taken from her illegally and sold to a rich couple living in Brighton. This is a variation on the common Victorian  practice of unmarried women being compelled to give their children to a foundling home.

The film starts with Aggie telling her story in largely neutral terms and comparing the workhouse and the site’s positive use today as a hospital, but it climaxes with Aggie screaming with the loss of her child, and we see that she is a tormented spectre.The film ends with her anguish fading into a sign on the present site, promoting a nursery for infant children.

The film will be around 5-6 minutes long and will consist of edited original footage taken on the site in the present day. The film will be treated with video effects to alter the pacing, colour and atmosphere of the original footage. I have asked for a drama-trained friend to narrate the film as Aggie and will be using original and library sound effects and music motifs, or possibly drones to punctuate the soundtrack.

Now and Then – influences from other artists

1. Brian Percival - About a Girl

Female voice-over revealing a terrifying truth about motherhood at the end of the film. This film gives a cold dead feeling inside from the casual yet downcast demeanor as the leading character talks about her dysfunctional life and especially the ending, where the girl is revealed to have secretly miscarried a baby and we see her dump it into the canal (“I’ve become good at hiding things”). Both my film and About A Girl attempt to humanise the female main character outside of their tragedies.

2. Tobe Hooper - director of Poltergeist Paranormal activity centred around past events and the presence of aggrieved spirits. This was a film that made an impact on me from its non-stop tension, even before the presence of the supernatural becomes apparent. Tobe Hooper, ever since creating The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) has achieved many awards, and after this film, it is easy to see why. It also has a similar plot to my initial idea for my film - where a great wrong done in the past creates a ‘haunting’ by aggrieved spirit(s)..

3. Peter Sasdy – Director of The Stone Tape (1972)

The original idea from the film was stones “recording” traumatic events from the past. While the current draft has drifted away from this concept, it still lives on with how Agatha remembers everything about the past as if she died yesterday, despite the superficial veneer of the current day hospital. However, Agatha is a real soul though in my film.

4. David Lynch - Eraserhead, The Elephant Man His black and white films – particularly The Elephant Man In the latter, view of Victorian England shot in black and white featuring cruelty and time-specific sounds, sights and atmospheres. The film always seems to have a sense of foreboding, even when the scene is uneventful, and with a deeply engaging soundtrack. Eraserhead will always always be an influence due to its deliberate disturbing monochrome style, investigation of altered perception and the anxieties of parenthood.

5. James Gardener- Author of: A Complete History Of Brighton Workhouses A detailed and easy-to-understand book centred around the original workhouse in my area. It includes the Brighton General Hospital Site. It helped give a real-life grounding to my supernatural tale.

6. Richard Boden - director of the Blackadder series 4 finale, Goodbyeee The series as a whole has very little to do with my film, but this is a powerful episode whose fade-out ending and closing-sound inspired the cross-dissolve effects and soundscape in my film - coincidentally both are centered with the cruelty of the past and atmospheric sound. Present and past merge at this point. One of the most popular scenes in TV drama/comedy and understandably so too.

7. Piotr Obal – various films and still images Obal is an independent artist who works with art, music and still photography. Occasionally, he teaches youths how to work at the computer like me (!) when he was helping out with an arts award I was studying for. Below is one of his images that has been an influence on me and the film. I love his Photoshop collages and the wonderful images he posts from his native Poland.

                                                        Work by Piotr Obal

8. Nalini Malani- for her immersive installations, ‘disgraced’ women under partiarchy, history and mythology, miscarriages of justice. I found out about Malini when I was writing my essay on her work in the  Diversity module: what started off as just finding out about an artist for the sake of my writing became a long-lasting admiration and inspiration from an artist who not only knows where she is coming from (from her upbringing hugely affected by India and Pakistan’s partition) but willingly sticks her neck out for those oppressed by society and history, and confidently shows her creations to the world. A particularly relevant aspect of her work is her use of the supernatural and mythology stories and myths to highlight aspects of women’s oppression throughout history.

9. Chris Butler- director of ParaNorman A key influence, supposedly aimed at children, I used the same of the spectre in this moving animation, and I was influenced by its themes about the cruelties of humanity and how we “moved on”. The spectre is a ghost of a falsely accused of being a ‘witch’ who wreaks her revenge on those who persecuted her.

It was also a strong influence that is more powerful at its climax and twist. In-depth look at how prejudice destroys lives that are never regained - even  death provides no relief. Butler is a part of Studio Laika, creating animated films that go beyond the norm.

10. Jacqueline Wilson - the writer of the Hetty Feather trilogy and other such Victorian novels such as Clover Moon.

A part of Jacqueline’s writings is her commentary about how unjust the past could be compared to today: even though her protagonists speak in ways that were customary to Victorians, she keeps them relatable the same way she keeps her modern-day protagonists relatable. The writing style of her books inspired certain characteristics of Agatha’s narration, because it was easy to understand yet engaging.

11. David Lean  - Director of Great Expectations (1946) This film, based on the Dickens book,  also brought to mind the cruel period of the Victorian era, and the acting and emotions continued that spirit and my inspiration around my project. I love that it is black and white as well as dialog-centred - I particularly like the formal style of speech - even to express negative emotions- for example:

“Let me point out the topic that in London it is not the custom to put the knife in the mouth for fear of accidents. It's scarcely worth mentioning, Only it's as well to do as others do”.

Miss Havisham, an almost ghostly older woman, in a similar way to Agatha cannot move beyond the terrible wrong done to her - she was left at the alter and devoted her life to training her adopted daughter, Estella, to get revenge on men.I use s similar obsessive, sing-minded hatred to motivate Agatha.

12. Sunset Boulevard (1950)

This film involve a man becoming the object of affection of a former silent movie star, Norma Desmond who overtake his life little by little until she kills him. Norma suffered with the times when silent movies went out of fashion and she is unable to move on, alone in her great house: people told Norma that she had no value and it had an impact on her psyche. She loses all sanity when arrested for killing Joe Gillis as she believes she is back in show business. The film also explores facades; Norma may live a glamorous if not lonely life, but her mental state torments her, like Aggie has with hers as she wanders around the hospital site driven ‘mad’ with grief and anger.  

13. R D Laing: ‘anti-psychiatrist’

'Here was someone explaining madness, showing how the fragmentation of the person was an intelligible response to an intolerable pressure”

Quote from: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/aug/25/rd-laing-aaron-esterson-mental-illness

 In discussing the concept of my film with a member of my family, I was directed to the psychiatrist/anti-psychiatrist, RD Laing. In the 1960’s and early 1970’s Laing wrote about how a person’s so-called ‘mad’ behaviour was in fact intelligible when their entire situation and experience was taken into account. He and other writers (like David Cooper) talked about the concept of the ‘double-bind’ where a person’s opportunity to make a decision to resolve the way they were being treated was blocked – perhaps by a member of their family saying that it was not in their personality to be assertive or angry.

This reminded me very much of Agatha; she tries to express her outrage at the great wrong done to her, but she is judged as unworthy and undeserving, so the wrong is seen as justified and her punishment for being the ‘low-life’ who would have a child and have to live in a workhouse. It is circular – she is treated badly because she deserves to be treated badly and so this means that her hatred and insanity brings the great wrong up herself.

Laing is largely forgotten today, but his ideas resonate with certain ideas in feminism and anti-racism. ‘Gaslighting’ is everywhere, both back then and now.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NnBonXPLJM

[zackcollins]

tasted like an apple pie || frederik gauthier

masterlist

Author’s Note: I looked at my own request list and came up with this idea because I wanted to write. It was originally going to be Kevin Hayes... then my utter dumbass remembered that Frederik Gauthier actually bakes. F in chat for my idiocy. GIF credit goes to vitosfangirl!!

Warnings: There’s one sentence that mentions the situation everyone is in right now. If that’s something you’re avoiding reading about, I understand and have a nice day. As per the last one, I think this is really sweet and might give you diabetes.

Translations: There is some French in this fic. The first instance translates to: “Why the hell did you do that?” The second instance translates to: “Disgusting!” The third instance translates to: “Will you marry me?”

Word Count: 1.1k+

Title: Apple Pie Moonshine by Jake Owen

Additional: Gender-neutral reader this time!! I just kinda wrote this one and let the gender of the reader come with whatever I decided to write; I didn’t set a certain gender limitation. Whatever happened happened.

Additional 2: This is for anyone that saw the post about this fic and my computer. My computer is still being stupid and barely let me post something that I was tagged to post. So. I’ve decided to post this from my phone because I’ve changed my mind: I’m not waiting 80 years for my computer to cooperate with me. This fic is done now so I’m posting it now. If there are any spelling/grammar mistakes, please be kind because I can’t check them as easily on my phone as I can on my computer. I’ll try to go back and edit this post for spelling/grammar once my computer starts behaving again. Alright. That being said: I hope you all enjoy this!!

You were known for tossing and turning in bed at night; you always had trouble getting comfortable. Your boyfriend, Frederik, never had a problem with that. He could sleep through the apocalypse and never felt you shifting around for the most part. It was one of the things that made your relationship work; he never complained when you tossed and turned constantly. You had boyfriends in the past that would get so fed up with your constant tossing and turning that they would sleep on the couch. That ultimately led to the downfall of those relationships.

Tonight was a particularly bad night for your tossing and turning. It was hot in the apartment and you were sticky from the sweat that had accumulated on your body. When you tossed the comforter off, you sighed from relief. The rush of cool air from the air conditioner felt nice on your tacky skin. After taking a moment to grow accustomed to the cool temperature, you shifted to Frederik’s side of the bed; you wanted to cuddle with him. When you found empty space, you frowned. You glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand--2:04 am. You frowned again; Frederik didn’t usually get up in the middle of the night.

Sitting up in the bed, you ran a hand down your face. You cringed when it came off covered in sweat. Wiping it off on the comforter, you coughed momentarily because your throat had gone dry because you were still overheating. Sighing, you swung your feet around the bed and decided to head to the kitchen for a glass of water.

When you walked into the kitchen, you blinked. Frederik was standing at the island, a mixing bowl in front of him. He had a recipe card and a bunch of bags and cartons of various ingredients strewn across the top of the island; there was even a bag of apples sitting beside the sink on the countertop to the left of the island. Stella was curled up on her dog bed in the living room, sleeping peacefully as if what was happening in your kitchen wasn’t completely bonkers for this time of night.

“What’s all this?” You asked, motioning to everything in front of Frederik.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to make an apple pie,” Frederik said, not looking up from the flour he had been measuring.

You blinked as you slid into one of the barstools across from him. “Since when do you bake in the middle of the night?”

Frederik shrugged as he poured the flour into the mixing bowl. He grabbed the stick of Cisco and the knife, cutting the correct portion as per the recipe. “When you’re in quarantine that seems like it’ll never end, you do weird things to keep you entertained.”

He dropped the Cisco into the bowl before opening the carton of eggs. He cracked two of them into the bowl and placed the shells back into the carton. The next thing to go into the bowl was baking soda; he made sure to measure the correct amount, levelling it correctly in the measuring spoon.

He passed the bowl to you and smiled. “Since you’re here; go wash your hands so you can mix that.”

Nodding, you stood and walked to the sink. You scrubbed your hands thoroughly before you went back over to Frederik. He had grabbed another bowl and had begun putting the ingredients for the apple garnish together.

Mixing the ingredients for the dough together gave you a brilliant idea. Once the dough was at the consistency you wanted, you took some of it and rolled it into a ball in your hands. Glancing over at Frederik to make sure that he wasn’t paying you any attention, you lobbed the dough ball at him when it was clear that he wasn’t.

“Mais pourquoi diable me fait ça?” Frederik asked, though his voice didn’t sound angry in the slightest. In fact, he actually chuckled and reached for the bowl himself. He grabbed a handful of dough and smeared it in your hair.

You giggled and took some more dough, leaned across the island, and smeared it in Frederik’s hair. Frederik smiled as he grabbed a small amount of flour, blowing it in your face. You sneezed before glaring at him with a fond smile.

Reaching for the bag of flour, you accidentally knocked it over. It spilled onto the counter and caused a small cloud to puff out from the pile. Frederik coughed as he waved a hand in front of his face in an attempt to disperse the cloud. You took that opportunity to grab a handful of the flour and blow it into his glasses. Frederik made a comical face as he took them off to examine how dirty they were.

“Cheater!” He took one of his hands, cupped your face, and gently pushed it backward. You giggled the entire time as you licked a stripe along his hand. Frederik withdrew his hand and made a mock face of disgust. “Répugnant!”

You shrugged, smiling cheekily. “You put your hand there; it’s fair game.”

Frederik rolled his eyes as he wiped the flour from his glasses. When he was satisfied that they were clean, he placed them back on his face. He made an ah-ha face and you chuckled; he did that every time he put his glasses on. He wanted to be dorky about the fact that he could see clearer every time he put them on.

“Since we made a mess of the dough,” Frederik said, motioning to his hair and then yours. “Do you just want to mix this garnish into whipped cream and have ice cream?” He tipped the mixing bowl toward you to show you the garnish that was finished being mixed.

Nodding, you walked to the freezer. You pulled out the ice cream before closing the freezer and grabbing the can of whipped cream from the fridge. When you walked back to Frederik, he had managed to grab a couple of bowls and spoons.

He dished out the ice cream, whipped cream, and garnish into both bowls. He handed you your bowl and spoon before coming around the island to sit beside you.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a few moments until Frederik took his finger, swooped it through his ice cream, and smeared it across your lips. You darted your tongue out and licked the ice cream off.

“Tastes like apple pie,” you said.

Frederik smiled before he leaned over and kissed you. You kissed back, humming softly when you tasted the mixture of flavours on his lips.

When you pulled back, Frederik’s eyes were softer than you had ever seen them. It made your heart swell as you sat there, swirling your ice cream with your spoon.

Frederik grabbed your hands, rubbing your wrists. You stared fondly at him as he inhaled and exhaled shakily. He brought one of his hands up and brushed a piece of dough out of your forehead.

Then, with a voice so soft you barely heard it, he said words that would change your life forever.

“Veux-tu m’épouser?”

#frederik gauthier #frederik gauthier imagine #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #frederik gauthier x reader #hockey fic #fanfiction #writing #gender neutral reader #baking #food fight #marriage proposal #fluff

[purplesurveys]

1118

Have you ever visited your country’s capital city? Yes. I was born in Manila and even lived there for a short while. But I don’t like going there anymore as I find it too icky, stinky, and depressing. It has come very far from its glamour days in the 50s until the 80s, and not in a good way. If you’re going to make a trip to the Philippines, go to literally anywhere but Manila.

What are your plans for next Thursday? Next Thursday is actually a holiday here, so I’d want to spend that day catching up on rest, ignoring work, and simply staying in.

When was the last time you were outdoors for over an hour? Last Friday when I went out with Angela and a few other friends. A bar in Katip announced that they were going to permanently close by the end of the month - another pandemic victim - so we went there to have a bit of a good time before they’re gone for good.

What is the shortest amount of time you’ve lived somewhere? My parents and I only lived in Manila for a year. By the time I was 2, we had moved in with extended family in the city I currently live in.

What’s your favorite kind of mint? (Peppermint/wintergreen/spearmint/etc) Mentos has a spearmint flavor that’s my favorite, so I’ll go with spearmint.

What was the last thing to frustrate you? I watched an interview with one of the last living Filipino comfort women who, as a teenager, had been raped by the Japanese during WWII. The Japanese’s way of dealing with their history is very infuriating – AKA they choose not to deal with it at all and act like nothing happened. I also learned that the Filipino government removed a statue we used to have that was meant to be dedicated to our comfort women, because the Japanese threatened to defund some of our projects if we didn’t have it removed. Everything about this is frustrating but most of my hatred is geared toward the Japanese government, both past and present.

What was the first movie you ever went to see in theaters? Stuart Little 2.

Do you do volunteer work, or have you ever done any in the past? I haven’t. I wanted to start volunteering for PAWS after I graduated college, but then Covid happened and so those plans fell through. These days, I help by donating P100 every week to my shelter of choice.

Have you ever been to a bachelor or bachelorette party? Never been. None of my friends have gotten married yet, and once they have plans to I’m not sure if they’d be the type to throw this kind of party. In fact, I don’t actually know if bachelor/ette parties are a thing here...it’s definitely not a standard Asian tradition, I can tell you that much.

Did any of your family members serve in WWII? My great-grandfather did, though I’m not exactly sure what his rank was. He was also given the Congressional Gold Medal Award for his efforts in 2018. My military-hating ass will always be in conflict because I hate the idea of war and sending people off to participate in it, but I’m also proud of my great-grandpa.

What’s your favorite kind of salad? Spicy freaking tuna salad. I really want to order one today, but I already spent so much on food last week :/

Are you more realistic or idealistic? I am realistic towards myself, but I appreciate people who can be idealistic or keep being the least bit optimistic. I feel like the people I surround myself with is also crucial to the mindset I end up molding.

Do you have a home security system? Yes, his name is Finn. Statistically alarms like him are far more effective than the techy kind ;) < Ahahaha, same. Cooper’s very handy. Kimi’s going blind so he only barks when he hears Cooper start to bark, I guess as kind of a moral support hahaha.

Have you ever been to Ohio? Nope, and I’ve never been to that country at all.

Are you currently borrowing something from someone? I have Andi’s vape pen. I’m thinking of just buying it from him, to be honest, because I see myself using it for the long-term. I also still have several of Athenna’s books that she had lent me all the way back in high school, but I never got to return because she distanced herself from me and Angela.

Is anyone currently borrowing anything from you? I don’t think so. I’ve lent books before but they’ve since returned them.

What is your last name’s heritage/country of origin? Spanish and Portuguese.

When did you last buy a new pair of shoes? What kind? September. They were kitty heels meant for the first job interview I ever scored.

Is your car paid off, or do you make payments? I think it’s paid off. I’ve never heard my parents talk about having to make payments for it.

Have you ever experienced culture shock while traveling? If so, where?

China: People will stare and point at you while clearly talking about you with their peers. It was incredibly unsettling at first, but in the end I just powered through and ignored it no matter how irritating it felt.

South Korea: Apparently you can’t take photos in public?? I was trying to take a photo of this silly mannequin, but the stall owner shooed me away. This was my own fault, though, and I should’ve done more research before I pulled my phone out.

Japan: Bus drivers turn the bus’s engine off when at a stoplight. That was a pleasant surprise. And of course, the people there are incredibly nice. At one point we asked this couple how to get to a certain museum, and in no time we were surrounded by a literal large crowd who just wanted to help me and my parents.

Indonesia: The dizzying amount of motorcycles on the road.

Are you able to see the stars at night where you live? Yes. Even though we live close to the city, I’m glad we get a lot of stars.

Do you include your middle initial in your signature? No. My signature is the first letter of my name + the last letter of my surname in a very lazy scrawl.

What brand of computer do you have? Apple.

What operating system does that computer run? Mac OS and I am too lazy to check which particular one.

Have you ever had gumbo? I don’t think so. Looks appetizing though.

What’s the oldest piece of clothing that you still own and wear? Some dresses and pants from like the 6th and 7th grade that can still be appropriate for some occasions, but I keep them at the very back/bottom of my closet because I rarely have to pull them out.

Do you have a passport? Yes.

How many miles are on your car? Mid-30,000s.

Have you ever been to an estate sale? Nope.

How many relationships have you been in? I’ve been with one person, though we dated twice

Have you ever had Greek yogurt? I don’t think so? I’ve only tried yogurt once, not sure if it had been Greek yogurt, but anyway I absolutely hated it and have refused to consume yogurt since.

Is the area in which you live flat, hilly, or mountainous? I live in the flatter part of the city, but we have a mountainous part as well of which we have a view from here.

#survey #surveys

[chuckepisodes]

Chuck vs. The Alma Mater Part 2

You were all in Casey's house now. Chuck was pacing back and forth while you were standing by the couch. Casey and Sarah were at Casey's desk looking over stuff. "So you don't know why I'm in the Intersect." Chuck stated. "Well, you didn't appear on the NSA radar until after Bryce sent you the Intersect." Casey said. "Same with the CIA." Sarah added. "Why don't I find that reassuring?" Chuck said staring at them. " The files that you saw were of you in college, right?" Sarah asked. " Yes, yes. Wait, what about Professor Fleming? I was in his class, he was CIA. Could that be it?" Chuck asked. "That's what I think." you said. "If we can find Fleming, maybe he could give us answers." Sarah said. " Okay. Let's do that." Chuck said agreeing to this idea. "It won't be easy." Sarah warned. " Intel suggests the professor's being hunted. The NSA interviewed one witness who ID'd a Magnus Einersson. He's an Icelandic spy." Casey said as you and Chuck walked over to them as Casey showed you the file of the spy on his computer. " I'm sorry, Iceland does espionage?" you asked, a little amazed. " Magnus buys and sells intel to the highest bidder. And Iceland isn't officially aware of his activities. It says here the crossbow is his weapon of choice." Casey explained "Oh, what, slingshot's too ineffective?" Chuck asked sarcastically.

Chuck was at work, chilling at the Nerd Herd desk, when he looked up and saw you coming in, on your break. Chuck smiled and waved you over. "Hey Y/N. What's up?" "Well...after all that I just wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing. I mean we haven't had a chance to talk about all of it yet and you know you’re my best friend and I care about you so...yeah. How are you?" Chuck smiled warmly at you. Things like this are just some of the reasons he falls in love with you more and more everyday. "Well uh...I don't know. Everything with Stanford and my professor being in the CIA this whole time and me being already apart of the Intersect? It's a lot to take in and I don't know how to feel about it honestly." "Fair enough." "What about you?" "What do you mean?" "Well after hearing all that, do you wonder if they may have been looking at you?" "I mean...yeah I guess. I mean I know that email was not meant for me but the fact that we are the same when it comes to that and can handle it as well... They must have known and been looking in on me too." Chuck nodded. "Do you still have your student ID to see if you flash on yourself?" "No... I got rid of it a long time ago. Guess I'll never really know right?" "Yeah..."

Casey then came walking up to the desk. "You didn't offer to kill Harry for Anna, did you?" Chuck asked "What?" you asked Chuck confused. "I'll explain later." "No. Why, you want me to kill him?" Casey asked. "No. No, just curious." "We just got a hit off a traffic camera in Hollywood." Casey said handing Chuck a photo. " That's Fleming." "Thanks intersect. You saved me a lot investigative work there. The DMV told me that." " Wow. Sarcasm, what a surprise." "What did we say about sarcasm Casey?" you said looking at him. "We located car Fleming's driving, local address. We're bringing him in a. s. a. p." " What do you need us for?" Chuck asked. " Yours is a friendly face. Professor sees you Chuck, he'll be more inclined to cooperate. Maybe Y/N's will help too. Copy?" "Yeah, except that I wasn't the professor's star pupil." "And he doesn't know me." "We leave in three." Casey said walking away. You turned back to Chuck and sighed. "What are we going to do?"

FLASHBACK "As you're aware, you scored perfectly on your midterm exam." Professor Fleming said. " Yeah, yeah. Well, I was up all night studying. It was a monster. No offense. " Chuck said. "You even aced the last section. Encoded images." " Yeah, those were just kind of a shot in the dark. " "You may be aware, I keep an answer key to every exam locked inside this office." " No, no, I wasn't aware of that." Chuck said honestly. "Really? Then how do you explain the midterm answer key... being found in your fraternity room? " "I'm sorry. You searched my room?" " We received the tip from a student this morning." " What? You got a tip about my room?" " I need to know how you broke into this office and stole the answers, Chuck." " I didn't steal anything." Chuck said getting defensive." I don't have to, I'm acing your class. " "Exactly. The student also claimed that you're selling copies. " "What?" " I know you're a scholarship student and Stanford is a very expensive school." " Look, whoever gave you your tip was lying. " "Our source was Bryce Larkin. Your roommate." Chuck was stunned.

Present Time

Casey was waving you both over. Chuck sighed. "I don't know. Come on Y/NN." he said softly getting up from his chair, and walking out with his hand on your back as he lead you out.

You were now all in the Nerd Herder, outside Professor Fleming's house, keeping watch. "We'll extract the professor as quickly as possible." Sarah said. " You'll keep watch? " Casey asked. "If we flash on any bad guys, one of us will call." you said. " Everything looks quiet, but..." Sarah started. " We know, we know, stay in the car." Chuck said. "Okay, good. Let's go." Sarah said. You got out of your seat so Sarah and Casey could get out of the car. Once they were both out, you sat back down in the passenger seat. You both watched as Casey and Sarah walked into his house. Not long after though, Chuck noticed the professor walking up. "It's Fleming." Chuck stated. "What?" Chuck pointed at the mirror where you saw the man walking up. "Are you sure?" "Definitely." Chuck looked over one more time then decided to get out of the car. "Professor Fleming! Hey!" Chuck shouted going after him. You got out of the car as well following them. Fleming turned around and saw you both and freaked out and ran. You and Chuck started to run after him too. "No, no, no, wait, professor, it's me, Chuck! Professor, stop! We're here to extract you! Glass Castle!" That made him stop and turn around to look at you both. " I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But it's- It's Chuck. I was in your Psychology and Symbolism class at Stanford. I don't know if you remember me." "Chuck Bartowski. Of course I remember you." " Ha, ha. I guess it's not every day you kick a guy out of school, huh? At least, I hope not." The professor then looked over at you. "And this is my best friend, Y/N." "Nice to meet you Y/N." "You too." "So you're, uh, with the Agency now. Why didn't you say so?" " I don't think we're supposed to, really." Chuck said. "Oh you are too miss?" "Yeah I am too." you said, nodding your head. " Well, we have code phrases. Didn't they train you?" looking between the two of you. " We mostly just stay in the car." Chuck admitted. " Next time, if it's a dangerous situation, say, "Are you coming to the toga party? "" " "Are you coming... ? " A real code phrase. I like it. That's awesome." "What are we doing? Who's bringing me in?" Fleming asked. "Oh, right. Yeah. So Sarah and Casey will do that." you said. " But, um, I was wondering if I could ask you something first. Why did the CIA have a file on me at Stanford?" Chuck asked. " I'm sorry." All of a sudden, Fleming just fell forward onto Chuck and he quickly grabbed him, thinking it was a hug. "Oh, hey. Hey. Hey, hey, buddy. Let's not beat ourselves up. You know, the past is the past. Okay. Look, we didn't really know each other that well at college. And this is a little awkward, so..." Chuck said feeling uncomfortable now. As Chuck's hand went down his back though he felt something sticking out of it. "Oh, boy. " "What is it Chuck?" you asked concerned. You looked over and saw the harpoon in Fleming's back. "Oh God." You quickly went to Chuck's side to help him. "Hey, hey, hang in there. Hang in there." Fleming's weight became too much though and Chuck began to fall over bringing you along with them. " I put in- Give this to Bryce Larkin." Fleming said handing Chuck a piece of paper. " Bryce? Bryce Larkin? What-? What did Bryce have to do with this?" All of a sudden the man with the crossbow came over and he harpooned the paper out of Chuck's hand, making you scream a little when you saw how close it came to your head. "Ah. Ah. We are nobody, I swear." Chuck said. The man grabbed the paper and walked away. You then heard Casey and Sarah walk out of the house. " Casey, come on! Over here!" you yelled. "Man down, man down! Help me!"

You and Chuck were back at his place now. You were both in his room, sitting on his bed, trying to process all that happened. You knew this was hitting Chuck more too and you wanted to be there for him and to keep him company. All of a sudden you both heard a whistle and looked up to see Sarah and Casey staring in the window. You decided to get up and let them in. "I'm sorry, guys, but we have to talk." " Okay." you said as you went to sit back down beside Chuck. Sarah took the comfy seat in front of his bed while Casey took the chair by the window. "So how was the hospital? Is the professor gonna be okay?" Chuck asked. " They're putting him into surgery now. " Sarah said. "We can't talk to him, sort this mess out. You sure it was Magnus you saw?" Casey asked. " Gee, I don't know, Casey. How many psycho archers do you know?" Chuck said sarcastically." I asked Fleming about why I was in the Intersect. Should've brought him to you, sorry." " It's not your fault." you said. "I keep thinking about what he said. Why would he want me to bring those numbers to Bryce?" Chuck asked. " Bryce must have been one of his CIA contacts. Fleming was probably never told of his death." "List off the numbers you remember. " Casey said. "There were like 10 of them. A couple of nines." Chuck started. "Five, definitely started with a two." you added. " That's it? You two have a computer for a brain and that's all-?" " It was a very stressful situation, okay? We watched a guy get skewered by a crossbow." Chuck shouted. "Look, Fleming knew something. Before he fell, he said, "I'm sorry. " Why would he say that?" " I don't know, Chuck." Sarah said. "Yeah, well, I think he might know why I'm in the Intersect."

It was later in the day now and you and Chuck were still chilling. You decided to walk over to Ellie's room and see what she was up to. Chuck walked in and you just chilled by the door. Ellie turned her head to look at you both. "You guys okay?" Chuck walked over to Ellie's bed and fell forward on it. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh when you saw that. "It's not late for you to change your mind about revisiting the old alma mater. And to cheer on for yours Y/N" she said as she was packing her suitcase for the weekend." Spending time with me and Devon." "Oh, please." Chuck said looking up at Ellie. "You just don't wanna be stuck in a car alone with Awesome's frat buddies." "Maybe, or maybe I'm your sister and I care about you, and you too Y/N." she said turning to you quickly before turning back to her brother. "And I think that going back to Stanford would help you to move on." "I love you, sis. And I'd take a lot of bullets for you... but five hours in a car with Awesome and his bros, that is asking too much. Besides, if I came, you wouldn't have room for your fun old foam finger." Chuck said grabbing it and pointing it in Ellie's face which made her laugh. "Stop it." "What is this?" " I don't know, but look at what I found." Ellie said holding up a book." See this?" " It was in my old college stuff. "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. "" "You still have that Chuck?" you asked amazed. "Yeah... Kinda forgot." " You want me to return it to the Stanford Library for you? " Ellie asked. "No. No, I'd kind of like to finish it. See how it ends."

" That book is like four years overdue." "What do you think Stanford's gonna do, huh? Expel me?" Chuck said jokingly. " Come on Y/NN." he said leading you out of Ellie's room. "I'll talk to you later Ellie." you said waving at her as she waved back. As you and Chuck walked down the hall, he looked at the book and stopped in the middle of the hall. You looked at him a little confused. "You okay Chuck?"

FLASHBACK Chuck and Bryce were having an intense game with nerf guns in the library. "You're a dead man, Chuck Bartowski." Bryce shouted, hiding. " All right. Come on, Bryce. Give it up, buddy. I know you're out of ammo, I've been counting." Bryce then appeared behind Chuck, hands in the air. "Buddy. Whoa, whoa, whoa. You wouldn't fire at an unarmed guy." " I might. It's hardly sportsmanlike." Chuck said with his gun pointed at him. "What's this?" Bryce said turning to the books on the shelf. He pulled one book out. "Gynecology for Geeks. You read this?" " No, is it a good read? " Bryce then fired his nerf gun and got Chuck on the forehead. "Got you. Larkin over Bartowski again." Present Time

"Chuck?" He then turned his head and looked at you. "I know what the numbers mean Y/N." "What?" "The paper. I know what they mean."

You and Chuck were now over at Casey's place once again.

"I know what the numbers mean. They're for a book in Stanford Library. Bryce had a place where he would stash stuff. He told Fleming about it. Fleming must have left the intel there for Bryce." Chuck explained. "It's a matter of time before Magnus figures it out and beats us to the book." "Bingo." " Unless we can beat him to it." "Bryce kept his stuff on the third floor. There was a turn..." Chuck was now struggling to remember." There was a turn... I'd have to be there to remember." You looked at Chuck wondering where he was going with this. He looked at you then back at Casey. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we have to go  to Stanford." "What?" you asked shocked. "Cool." Casey said.

#Chuck Series Rewrite #Chuck #Chuck TV Series #Chuck x Reader #Chuck Bartowski #Chuck Bartowski x Reader #Zachary Levi

[fernwehbookworm]

Haunted- Chapter 2

As soon as Kara gets back to CatCo, she pitches her idea to her editor, Snapper Carr. He stares at her for a solid four minutes before grunting out a response. “Fine. But you better do this right. Just the facts. We don't need a eulogy. We need an article that will blow the other four out of the water. Get going, Pony Tail."

Kara escaped his office as fast as she could before Snapper could change his mind.

It was already the end of the day. Kara had spent so much time at L-Corp she had worked through her lunch, very rare for her. With her stomach growling, Kara packed up a few things she thought she might need on her desk and decided to head home. While Kara walked the five city blocks back to her apartment, she ordered more takeout then she would probably eat but everything sounded so good right now. It was better leftover anyway. She is barely through her door when the delivery guy knocks. The smell of Chinese food permeates the entire apartment and Kara can barely focus enough to pay and set up her laptop before diving in.

When the first few bites settle into her stomach and take the edge off her hunger, Kara can actually pause to log into her computer and start researching. In between bites, Kara scrolls through article after article on Lena Luthor. Really, there is nothing about her up until her brother's arrest. There is one short piece back when she was four and being adopted by the Luthor's, her tiny hand is obscured by her father's as the now family of four leaves the courthouse after signing the papers. The occasional mention on various projects for school fairs but Miss Luthor is always listed as 'not pictured.' The next picture Kara finds is of Lena graduating high school as Valedictorian at the age of fifteen. She had refused to give a speech, stating 'who am I to speak about our high school experience when I was barely here even two years? They laughed and cried together. They have grown together in ways I will never understand. Let one of them tell them of a hope for the future as they look fondly on the past."

Which Kara thought was a pretty good speech in itself.

Then Miss Luthor was gone again, only resurfacing in research papers and a start-up application with a man named Jack Sphere,  who Kara finds is the now CEO of Spherical Industries. Shortly after that is when Lex Luthor is arrested. After scouring those police reports, Kara finally finds how. Lena Luthor turned her own brother in. Her public statement says that she suspected something had been off with her brother. At first she assumed it was the pressure of taking over LuthorCorp, which he quickly renamed to LexCorp, after their father had died. But it continues even as the company went into a period of growth and prosperity. Investors were practically knocking down Mr. Luthor's door.

Miss Luthor noticed a heavier rotation of women through her brother's life. There had always been a new woman every couple of months because Mr. Luthor had been known to get bored easily. He was a very intellectual man, he even claimed his sister was his only match for wits. Then it seemed like a new woman every week. Miss Luthor worried about a scorned woman trying to blackmail her brother and said so to him. 'He just chuckled real lowly. And said there was nothing to worry about. It was all taken care of.' A quote from the police report.

She didn't know then, that he was wooing these women, giving them everything they could ever want, paying off their debts and dressing them in the finest clothes, and just when they would say they couldn't be happier, he would kill them. He would drug them and tag them like farm animals or game. Then hunt them like those very animals in the huge forests on the Luthor estate. Miles of undeveloped trees that were privately owned. Police still don't believe they have found all the bodies of the missing women who are presumed dead by Lex Luthor's hand. He buried them where he killed them. Still in torn designer dresses with diamonds around their necks and bright orange tags punctured through an ear.

Miss Luthor had started to see signs of the deeds slowly. Blood on a dress shirt carelessly left in a bathroom. A hunting cabinet left unlocked. Dirt tracked into Mr. Luthor's bedroom because the maids had been dismissed for the week. That's when she started spying on him. As a child, she had hid from an verbally abusive mother and knew all nooks and crannies of the Luthor estate. When she finally caught him drugging the next victim, she knew. She took what evidence she could to the police and cooperated fully. Lex Luthor escaped before being taken into custody and no one knows where to. As Miss Luthor gave the federal agency access to LexCorp’s financials, a whole other slew of accusations were leveled on the former CEO. He had been selling weapons on both sides of wars around the world, profiting from death and destruction. His list of crimes went on and on.

Kara begins to write, switching between tabs on the internet browser. It takes hours just to get her notes into a semblance of order and a skeleton of a rough draft. Kara even uses her found pen to take physical notes and jot down ideas as well. Kara works until her eyes start to burn and half her food is gone. By eight, Kara was also halfway through a bottle of wine. She pushes past that, diving in and losing herself in the research and the stories of Miss Luthor’s employees.

Kara blinks hard to try and rid the sleep from her eyes, she is too in the zone to stop now. When she opens them again, she startles at the woman sitting next to her at the table. Kara instantly recognizes her with the long dark hair and piercing green eyes. She’s even still wearing the lab coat that she was in the video.

“Okay, I’m dreaming. I have to be.” Kara mumbles to herself and rubs her eyes.

“Oh, yeah. You are definitely face down on your laptop. It’s quite adorable. Too bad all those ‘F’s’ are going to take up your pages. I hope you auto saved.” Kara watches the phantom of Miss Luthor laugh and then she ties up her hair in a high ponytail, exposing the sharp jawline that Kara saw in her company portrait.

“Yeah definitely dreaming. I think I’ve been thinking about you too much.”

“Honey, no one ever thinks of me too much.” Miss Luthor raises an eyebrow and flashes a smirk Kara’s way.

Kara blushes. “Well since this is all not real, care for an interview? Maybe my subconscious can tell me something.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I’m here. I mean, I feel real. But I have never met you before. But I’ve been watching you for a while and all of a sudden you can see me.”

“Sounds very dreamish to me. So, Interview?”

“I don’t think that’s how dreams work.” Miss Luthor says with a laugh.

“I don’t think I could dream up that laugh, Miss Luthor.”

Miss Luthor winces, “If this isn’t real, then please call me Lena. Miss Luthor makes me feel like I am in a Boardroom.”

“All right, Lena then. I’m Kara.”

“Really? I thought it was Pony Tail. At least that's what that angry goblin man called you.”

“You saw that?”

“I’ve been with you almost all day. I've seen everything.”

“Everything?” Kara’s voice gets a bit higher.

“Don’t worry, I stayed out of the bathroom stall.”

“Oh good, my subconscious lets me have my privacy.”

“Still don’t think that’s true, but tell me, Kara, why are you doing this? Why are you trying to make me look so good? You don’t even know me?”

“I’m not trying to make you look good. You were good. The things you were doing for your employees and National City is amazing. Not to mention your charity helping third world countries. Like, What weren’t you doing?” “I wasn’t living. I was working myself until I couldn’t think to fill the void of loneliness that I thrust upon myself by turning in my brother and cutting my mother out of my life.”

“Wow, intense. But you didn’t find joy in anything you did.”

“I did. But it was always just so temporary. And I had no one to share it with. I never understood why people would talk about sharing their lives with significant others but when the machine malfunctioned and I saw the bright light. It all hit me at the same time and then I was there, watching you interview with Jess.”

“Man, I really wish you weren’t dead. I would have loved to meet you.”

“But I don’t think I am.”

Kara jerks awake, scattering her papers and pens to the floor. She casts about for Lena before realizing she was in fact just dreaming. A glance at her computer screen does reveal a stream of F’s going on for way too many pages. The sun has long set and Kara looks at her watch to see that it is now three in the morning. She groans, she has less than four hours to sleep before getting up again.

Kara is dead on her feet the next morning, she bought two caramel ice cappuccinos for herself and drank them both before they had a chance to melt. Kara has to do a double take when she sits at one of the cafe tables. She swears Lena is sitting across from her, but when Kara blinks, she’s gone. Kara shakes her head and chalks it up to the lack of sleep. On the street, as Kara works on her vanilla cream-filled doughnut, she almost drops it because someone runs into her, she has an apology half way out of her mouth before realizing that the person is long gone.

Eyebrows drawn together, Kara finishes her trek to work and hides in her cubicle. Luckily, Snapper seems content to allow her to work on the Lena Luthor story and leaves Kara alone for the morning. It’s nearing noon when Kara’s phone buzzes.

Noonan’s?

Alex knows her sister very well. Noonan’s sounds perfect.

20 min? Kara responds.

A thumbs-up emoji comes in response and Kara begins saving her place so she can head out to meet her sister. Kara logs out and stands to swing her bag onto her shoulder, somehow knocking her pen container to the ground in the process. Kara groans to herself and stoops to pick them up. Someone giggles at her misfortune but Kara can’t pinpoint which one of her coworkers it was.

Kara shakes her head and lets it go.

“Hey Alex,” Kara greets as she sinks into the seat across from her sister at Noonan’s.

“Hey Kar… you look exhausted.”

“Gee, thanks. Good to see you too.”

“I’m your sister, I’m supposed to call it how it is. What’s up?”

Before Kara can respond, their waitress interrupts. “The usual, dears?”

“Yes,  thanks, Carol.” Kara says.

“So?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing, really.” Kara tries to wave off her sister’s concerns but Alex continues to stare her down. “It’s just this L-Corp article. I stayed up way too late researching and fell asleep at my computer.”

“You have got to stop doing that to yourself.”

“I know, I know. I even had this super weird dream about Lena Luthor.”

“Weird how?”

“She was just there in my apartment, sitting at my table, and we just started talking. But then she kept saying how she didn’t think she was actually dead. It just felt so real. I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Sounds like you have been really focused on this. You were probably just overtired.”

“Maybe, but forget about me. What’s new with you?”

“Not much. I’m thinking about asking Kelly to move in.” Alex winces at Kara’s high pitched squeal.

“Not much?! That’s huge Alex! Really? I’m so happy for you!”

Alex laughs at Kara’s enthusiasm. “It’s not that big of a deal. She hardly ever goes back to her apartment anyway, mine is closer to both of our jobs and she already has half my closet space.”

“But still! That’s great. I love Kelly, well not how you love Kelly, but like I love Kelly as a very possible future sister-in-law.”

“Whoa, slow down sis. Let’s take this one step at a time.”

“Sorry, I just excited for you. It will be great. We should have a dinner party after you ask to celebrate.”

“Here you ladies go,” Carol set’s down the plates of food, Kara’s piled high with extra fries and a couple of extra pickles next to her burger.

“Thanks,” Alex accepts her club sandwich with a hungry grin. "Want my pickle?"

"Always," Kara grins as she grabs the spear from her sister's plate.

As Kara settles back into her chair, she does a double-take. She could have sworn she had seen Lena Luthor watching her from the door. But when she looked again there was just a woman with dark hair waiting for a seat.

"What's wrong?" Alex asks, noticing her sister's confusion.

"Nothing. Just, jeez, I must be really thinking too much about this article. I keep thinking I see Le- Miss Luthor out of the corner of my eye. It's happened a couple times today."

"Well, maybe when you finish this article, you should put in for some personal time. You haven't taken a day off since you became a reporter two years ago. And you have been pushing really hard this past couple of weeks. We even canceled the last two game nights, which, by the way, Kelly wants to have on Friday."

"Oh! Yes! I met a new friend interviewing for this article. Winn, he asked if we could hang out sometime so I told him he should definitely come to game night."

Alex raises an eyebrow at her sister.

"What?" Kara asks through a mouthful of fries.

"Kar…"

Kara swallows. "What?" She asks innocently.

"I think that poor man was trying to ask you out."

"Wha-? No. Wait." Kara rethinks their last interaction. She frowns hard and then shrugs. "He isn't really my type, plus I'm a little put off of men still. Don't get me wrong, I am still attracted to them but after Mike, I think I need a break from them."

"Hey, you won't find any arguments from me. Women are prettier anyway." Alex laughs.

"All right you big lesbian, yes they are. But I'm not really feeling the dating thing anyway. I just need some 'me' time."

"I don't need to know about your 'me' time. Some things are just best for sisters not to know.”

"Ugh, Alex! Not like that. Well… a little like that, but not the point. Okay changing the subject. How are you asking Kelly to move in?"

<><><><>

Kara was really starting to hate this feeling of being watched. It had nagged at her all day. Like someone was just behind her, watching everything she did. It followed her all the way home and into her apartment. Kara was trying to just chalk it up to lack of sleep and overthinking but then she just thought about it more and it became a vicious cycle. The back of her neck prickled as she locked her front door and Kara only hesitated a moment before chaining the door along with the deadbolt. Kara knew she should sleep, but this article needed to be done and prepared for whatever new information L-Corp sent out when they concluded their investigation. To Kara though, that information would be last. She really wanted to focus on Lena's life instead of her death. Kara ordered pizza and began to dive deep into her research again. Each new charity or fundraiser event leading to a new one. There were some that Kara could not find clear evidence of it being Lena so she emailed Jess who responded promptly with a list of events and organizations that Lena decided not to be listed on or listed as a minor contributor even though the exact opposite was true.

Around 9, Kara can feel her eyelids growing heavy as she shakes off sleep and takes another bite of her half-finished pizza. Or she tries to. Darkness envelops her consciousness and panic feels like it wraps around her heart.

“Where am I? Come on… come on. I have to find a way back. There… There! I have to—”

Kara jerks awake, knocking her pizza box onto the ground and nearly punching her computer screen. Though the confused, muddled images fade, the fear keeps her heart pumping. Kara isn't really sure what she was just dreaming of but it raised goosebumps on her arms.

Kara stands and shuts her computer. Even as she is telling herself how ridiculous it was, Kara checks all the locks on her windows and balcony doors. She even rechecks her front door. Satisfied, Kara goes to brush her teeth and climbs into bed. She still can’t shake the dream. Kara lays awake, listening to every noise of the city and her neighbors.

Kara must have drifted off at some point because soon she is woken again by a rattling noise. It’s slow, coming back to consciousness, but when she does, her knuckles tighten on her comforter as she remains as still as possible and held her breath to pinpoint the cause of the noise.

The rattling continues and seems to be growing more agitated. Quietly, Kara gets off her bed and grabs her baseball bat from her closet. Alex had insisted on her having  something to protect herself when she moved out on her own. She had laughed at the time but she wasn't laughing now. Kara tiptoes back out into the living room, bat half raised as her eyes straining in the darkness. Luckily, the moon is full and illuminated the living space enough for Kara to look for anything out of place. The rattling noise came again and Kara's head snaps in that direction, lifting the bat higher.

With a laugh, Kara releases the breath she is holding. Streaky is perched on the fire escape swatting at the window to be let in. The stray cat had selected Kara's apartment to escape to when he sensed storms coming or drops in temperature.

Kara sets the bat against the couch and unlocks the window to let the demanding feline in.

"Hey bud, trying to scare me to death?"

Streaky just lets out a meow of protest at how long it took for Kara to allow him entry.

"Yeah, yeah," Kara says to him. "Come on, I'll put some food and water down. Then, you have to let me sleep. I only have three more hours."

Kara digs in the bottom of her pantry for Streaky's bowl and food. She fills one half with the dry food and the other with water. She has to concentrate not to trip over the cat circling her ankles. Kara sets it down with a scratch behind pointed ears and earns a contented purr.

By the time Kara is crawling into bed to try and sleep, Streaky is making himself comfortable at the foot of it.

Kara's alarm blares all too soon and she is starting to seriously consider time off like her sister suggested. Kara rubs the sleep from her eyes and looks at Streaky. He is sitting up with his back to Kara. He is too stiff for his normal behavior. As Kara watches him, Streaky's head slowly pivots to the right, then back to the left, as if tracking the movement of something. But he isn't looking at the ground. Streaky is looking straight ahead, if even a little up.

"Hey…". Kora mumbles, trying to break the creepy behavior, she taps him with a foot. Streaky doesn't even budge from his watchful stance.

"Okay, weirdo."

With the sun rising, most of the anxiety from the night before had faded, but the cats strange behavior still set prickled at Kara's neck.

She decided a shower would help clear the night from her mind and the sleep from her eyes. The hot water soon had the bathroom steaming and Kara lets her tense shoulders relax under the water pressure. She knows she can’t stay in all morning but boy, is she tempted to. Streaky is protesting at the closed bathroom door, hating being shut out of a room. With a groan, Kara turns off the water and grabs the towel from the bar next to the tub. A quick pat down before stepping out to wrap her hair up.

Kara turns to wipe the moisture from her mirror and freezes with her heart.

Help Me!

#supergirl #supercorp #scbb2020 #Scbb #fanfiction #autism #Haunted

[softxharry]

Blacklist (six)

Harry Styles, one of the FBI's most wanted criminals turns himself in-- and all he wants to do is speak with one rookie agent.

It's her job to figure him out and it's his to protect her from her past, but all secrets have to be told eventually.

You can read this here using the tag hsblacklist or on wattpad at brutallybeautiful

ongoing // 2019

Grace

Tuesday 8:21 a.m. Examiner Hatch.

Subject: Grace Elliot Tyler.

Before Monday of last week did you have or have you ever had personal contact with Harry Styles?

Did Harry Styles notify you before he surrendered  to the FBI?

Do you know why Harry Styles surrendered himself?

No. No. No.

Hundreds upon hundreds of questions, three separate lie detector tests, all video taped, all audio recorded. Negotiations with Harry, negations with the FBI criminal division, surveillance of my apartment, the list goes on and on. And I was fucking exhausted from it all.

I've done nothing but sit on my laptop with coffee next to me searching Harry Styles' name over and over again, reading news articles about his disappearance five years ago, reading about the murder of his mother, how he sold classified documents to foreign countries when he was twenty and then disappeared off the grid.

I run my hands through my hair out of stress, my eyes burning from staring at the computer screen for far too long. I couldn't understand why Harry wanted me, why he asked for me, why he turned himself in to talk to me. I was going mad trying to wrap my head around it. The news about the Muller investigation echoes in the background, but nothing  they're saying resonates with for more than a second.

Ding.

I pick up my phone to see a text message from Agent Hunter asking me to come to the black sight.

There's been an emergency. Styles would like to speak with you.

And just like that, here we go again.

-

"Tell me about the plane crash."

"It's so good to see you again Gracey," Harry grins.

"It's Grace, not Gracey. To you, it's Agent Tyler," I sit forward in my seat across from him. "I ask you questions. You answer. Screw with me and I walk."

We're sitting in the same old dingy warehouse, inside the makeshift cell that Harry was being kept in. Agent Cooper has been fighting with the criminal division trying to get immunity for him— He knows that Harry has secrets and without him, there's thousands of threats that we may never find. We need him and he needs us.

Harry doesn't budge under the threat, nor does he take it seriously. He still has the same smirk on his face that he's had every second that I've seen him. It irks me.

"The plane was no accident. An assassination rather, the guy who did it is responsible for a slew of other killings disguised as accidents," he said, looking down at the restraints that confined him to the table. "Shall I go on?"

We're back in the same room where we were a week ago before Weber almost blew up the entire Metro, Harry pointing at photos taped on the glass again, giving us information that we couldn't figure out ourselves (again).

"More than 3000 innocent civilians have died as a result of this mans secret assassinations. There's no proof, but the victims are there. Circuit judge in Ohio, even one of your own agents in Kansas," he's pointing to the news article he's displayed on the projector.

Circuit Judge dies in house fire, no foul play suspected.

FBI agent killed by drunk driver.

Again, the pieces start to fall together. And we're back to where we were last week. Right in the palm on Harry's hands. Exactly where he wants us to be.

"I have on good authority that his next contract will take him overseas. Once he's done, he's gone. So, we need to act quickly. I've set up a meeting with an intermediary. Tonight at 7 p.m. at The Capital Grille."

He's glancing between the three of us as he speaks, until he stops to stare at me.

"You should come, Grace. The two of us, no wires, no clumsy agents in the bushes," He looks back at Agent Cooper. "You want a criminal? You need to trust me with my sources."

To my surprise, Cooper agrees.

-

"Let me be clear. I have no interest in having dinner with you. We get what we need and we go, understood?"

Harry laughs, adjusting the collar of his shirt. His legs are nearly too long for the back of the cab that we are in, his feet tucked under the seat in front of him. Surprisingly, he nods.

"I understand," he said. I felt relieved for a moment, until he comes up with (yet another) witty remark.

"But, it is a restaurant and it is dinner time."

He steps out of the cab and walks around to my side to open the door. We look like a young couple going out for a nice dinner. Harry in a (very nice) suit, I in a dress. It's like we're celebrating an anniversary or a promotion and not catching a brilliant assassin that kills over 40 people in a plane crash to make it look like an accident.

The hostess takes the round fedora that Harry was wearing and I can't help but feel a pang of sadness as he parted ways with it. The fedora was nice to look at. It made him look sculpted, like his jaw line was chiseled out for hours to make it the perfect sharp shape, like curve of his smile was-

"Grace?" Harry asks waving his hand in front of my face. "Hello? Are you there?" He's laughing— not the usual snarky, I-won't-directly-answer-your-questions laugh, but a genuine (very adorable) laugh. I start laughing too at the sad realization that I was fanaticizing over someone who's earned a top spot on the FBI's most wanted list.

We share an awkward moment when we stop laughing, standing in silence until he motions for me to follow the hostess. She leads us to a table close to the front by the windows, overlooking the bustling street right outside.

"If anyone asks, you're my girl friend from New York," Harry whispers in my ear. It was only a joke, but the way his breath tickled against my neck sent chills down my spine, goosebumps speckled my skin. He pulls out my chair for me and I take a seat.

"Why so red Gracey?" he grins, taking a seat of his own. My breath catches embarrassingly in my throat at the comment and I'm thankful when a waiter walks up to us to take our drink orders, thankful that I don't have to answer nor comment on the redness in my cheeks, or the fact that I was fantasizing about his jawline. I gladly just sit flustered for a few moments before it goes away. Harry orders a french wine that I can't even pronounce the name of before I can even think about telling the waiter what I want. When he walks away, Harry folds his hands on the table.

I felt less nervous knowing that there were cameras watching us inside the restaurant and that there was a cleaning van full of agents outside running every face inside for a match in their database.

"Tell me about your boyfriend, did he move from San Fran with you?" he said.

"Where's your contact?" I mumble, taking a sip of the water that was placed on the table before we sat down. 

That's one thing that I was thankful Harry didn't know about me. I came to DC alone, a free bird with a fresh start and no cheating boyfriend. The feeling was indescribable, after an entire week of going mad thinking that Harry knew every detail about my life, knowing he didn't was relaxing.

"We have time," he said fixating his gaze on me. I don't say anything.

"So tell me, did your mother also have dark hair?"

"Your contact is late," I mumble again, bouncing my leg up and down nervously. His hand slides under the table and forces my knee to stop bouncing. It takes me a moment to process the touch, I can feel the heat in my cheeks rise again and I know this is inappropriate, but I can't help but want his hand to stay on my knee like this forever.

I need to stand my ground but I can't bring myself to do it and I have absolutely no idea why.

He pulls his hand away when the waiter comes with our drinks, a part of me feels sad that his touch is gone, but relieved at the same time.

"What if I told you that everything you've come to know about your past is a lie?" he mumbles suddenly.

I nearly spit out the wine at the comment. I don't think I can take it seriously. Harry has done nothing but play games with me since the moment I stepped through the doors of the warehouse. He wants to stir up something in me. Groom me to believe that my life is a lie or something. But the 'what if' thought lingers. He clears his throat.

"Excuse me," he said.

I sit at the table for more than two minutes alone until a fire alarm goes off. Everyone stands up in a hurry, pushing past each other to get out quicker. There's no smoke, nor no smell of it, and absolutely no sign of Harry.

Agent Hunter shows up with a team prepped in helmets, pushing past the crowd to the inside of the building with semi-automatics glued to their hands.

Agent Hunter escorts me outside where I stand in the cold for five minutes before it's cleared— with no sign of Harry.

I felt disappointed in myself, the fact that I trusted Harry too much, let him butter me up with the whispers and the knee touching, only for him to slip away right in front of me. And Agent Hunter doesn't forget to remind me about it.

"You let him get away," he mumbles as soon as he's close to me. When he passes,  his shoulder collides with mine and I know it's on purpose. I follow behind him, pinching the bridge of my nose to keep myself calm.

Harry Styles turned himself in and escaped a building surrounded by FBI. He played us and it was my fault. All the eyes watching me in the warehouse that day, watching to see if I messed up, will know within a few minutes that Agent Grace Tyler is a fuck up and she was from the very beginning.

I felt like crying or screaming or both.

Until Hunter opens the door to the cleaning van,  I nearly burst out laughing at the sight of Harry sitting calmly in the chair in front of the monitors, sipping the wine straight from a bottle, assuming he stole it from the restaurant. I was bewildered, my entire body flooded with relief.

"Hey there guys," he grins, holding the wine glass up for a toast. Hunter steps in, slamming Harry against the wall by the collar of his suit, wine spilling all over the two of them.

"You planned this, you knew he wouldn't show," Hunter spits in his face. Harry is as calm as ever, smiling at Hunter, despite the wine ruining his suit jacket.

"My contact was the first person I saw whenever we entered," his grin is satisfactory. "I left payment in my hat and in exchange he left a photo of the assassin's next victim."

Hunter grabs the fedora sitting in front of Harry to find a photo of an older gentleman- a human rights activist.

"I do believe you owe Agent Tyler and myself an apology?"

#directioner #directioners #harry #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #hsblacklist #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #louis tomilson #louis tomlinson #cute niall #niall horan #zayn malik #liam payne #harry styles fan #harry styles fandom #harry au #harry smut #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfic

[onegayastronaut]

Movie Night (Betty Cooper x Reader)

Requested by anon: Could you do a Betty x Reader where R is going over to Betty’s for a movie date and it’s just so cute and fluffy but Alice keeps coming in and ruining the moment

Words: 1125

Betty had been planning this for ages. Of course, Vee had helped her out in making this the perfect night with a large order from Pops and the right lighting. You had been dating her for the past few months, and Betty was not about to let this night be ruined by anything other than a make-out session.

Walking you to school has become a tradition for you as a couple. Betty would walk over to your house in the morning, and you two would hold hands as you made your way to school. Even though she liked to make it seem as if she's the protective girlfriend, you knew full well that Betty loved it when you held her close. Whenever she walked with you, she could finally let her walls down and just be herself.

Right when you got into school and walked to your locker, you noticed Veronica standing next to where you usually stopped. "What's up Veronica?"

"Not much. What are you doing here?"

"What? I can't see the love of my best friend's life?" Seeing the apologetic expression on your face, Veronica quickly added, "It's okay, (Y/N). I was just here to tell you to have fun with Betty here tonight."

"What do you mean?"

Veronica gasped as she looked over at Betty. "You haven't told her yet, B?"

"Told me what?"

"Thanks for ruining the surprise, V." Betty swatted at Veronica's arm as the dark-haired beauty skipped away. "I was planning on telling you later today, but I had planned a movie night for us today. Veronica helped me decorate, which is probably why she is so excited to see your reaction to the news."

"That's so sweet of you, Betty. You didn't have to go through all that trouble for me."

"I wanted to do it for you. We can go over to my house after we make our usual stop at Pop's, and spend the rest of the night with each other."

"Sounds good to me, babe." Giving Betty a kiss before class was always the best start to your day, and it seemed like the bell rang on cue to interrupt your make-out session.

The school day seemed like it took forever to get through. All you could think about was cuddling up to Betty with a blanket. You didn't have the heart to say that you had already watched most of the movies that she had chosen, but you didn't mind because that meant you could concentrate on just being with Betty.

After what seemed to be an age and a half, the school day finally ended. Betty was waiting for you beside your locker as usual, and the two of you walked hand in hand towards Pops. Pop always gave you free milkshakes because you helped him with accounting, and you got out your homework. Your parents allowed you to spend as much time as you wanted with Betty as long as you kept your grades up, and keeping up with homework was a part of that. Betty usually took this time to cuddle up next to you and get whatever work that was piling up on her desk done. Things usually got pretty quiet, but it was a good kind of quiet because you got to spend time with Betty.

It took a few hours for you to get everything done, and you walked with Betty to her house. Betty always smelled good, and you couldn't help but pull her closer as you were walking. You could tell that Betty loved just walking with you, and you two walked slightly quicker to her house so you could cuddle for real.

Once you got to her house, the first thing that both of you noticed was the fact that the living room light was on. "Is that your mom?"

"Yeah, but she was supposed to be working late today. I don't know why she's home so early."

As you got to the door, you became more and more nervous. Alice had always intimidated you, and you weren't prepared to come across her today. The door opened before Betty had time to take out her keys.

"Hello, Betty. I see you've brought your little girlfriend with you. Is that why there are all those ridiculous decorations up in your room?"

"Yes, mom. And this isn't 'my little girlfriend', her name is (Y/N). I wanted to do something special for her tonight." Betty led you by the hand towards her room as you gave Alice a little smile.

Standing outside of her room, Betty forced you to close your eyes. As she led you into her room, you opened your eyes and gave a little gasp. "Betty! You didn't have to go through all of this trouble."

"Yes, I did. You always make me feel special, and it was about time I did something for you."

You and Betty finally settled down on her bed, and Betty leaned her head on your stomach as she flipped through the movies that are available. Already sleepy, you slowly threaded your fingers through Betty's golden hair. You hadn't felt this peaceful in a really long time, and you could tell that Betty felt the same.

This moment was promptly destroyed by a creak from the door. Within seconds, Alice had made her way into the room, glaring at the bed suspiciously.

"What are you two doing?"

"What the hell, Mom? We're just going to watch a movie!"

"Oh, is that all? Well, isn't that just teenage talk for wanting to do something more during the movie?"

"Mom! Stop it!"

"Fine, I'll get out of your hair for now. Just know that I will be listening very carefully to what's going on in this room." And without further explanation of her behavior, Alice abruptly marched out and closed the door.

Betty let out an irritated sigh and continued looking for a movie. "I'm sorry my mom's like that. She has done that to pretty much everyone that I know, so don't take it too personally." She finally seemed to settle "Back To the Future", and popped the CD into her computer.

"Don't worry babe. I wouldn't have you or your family any other way." You kissed the top of her head as the movie started. Betty moved only to turn the lights off in the room.

Just as the two of you got settled, you saw the door move to reveal Alice's head peeking around the corner. Seeing that the two of you were indeed watching a movie instead of fooling around, Alice slid back into the living room without a sound.

It was going to be a peaceful night for you and your girlfriend.

#betty cooper #betty cooper imagine #betty cooper x reader #riverdale #riverdale x reader #riverdale imagines

[bugheadfangirl]

Christmas Surprises

(Secret Santa gift for @sweetbettycooper Merry (late) Christmas! Hope you enjoy!)

Betty's POV

Thoughts swim inside Betty's head as an impatient nervousness courses through her body. Just one more minute, one more minute of the agony of the unknown. Sixty seconds; thirdty seconds; ten seconds; one second. She takes another second to compose herself and ready for whatever the results may be. With all the strength she has, she glances down at the plastic pregnancy test she had bought the night before when Jughead was asleep. There was only one explanation for the queasiness and exhaustion she'd been experiencing for the past few weeks. Jughead, of course, thought the change in season and temperature had given her a cold; but Betty has a different theory.

The pink little plus sign on the screen confirms her suspicion, she's pregnant. Betty gasps at the sight and drops the plastic test onto the floor with a thud. Her stomach turns and causes her to crouch onto the floor and empty her breakfast into the toilet. After a few heaves, there's a knock on the door. "Betts, are you okay? Can I come in?" Jughead's voice comes through the door.

"No!" Betty quickly responds without a thought. She knows she has to tell him eventually, but the worry about what his reaction would be stops her. They had just moved in together a month or so before. Plus they both have to return to college after their winter break ends. In the mist of all these thoughts, a new one arrives; what if it was a false positive. There's only one true way if knowing. She shoves the test in her pajama pocket and flushes the toilet. She pushes herself carefully off the floor and opens the door to see Jughead's worried expression.

"Is everything okay?" He asks wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her to him. "You've been throwing up a lot. Maybe you should see a doctor." He places a gentle kiss on her cheek making her cheeks turn a rosy pink.

"I'm fine, Jug. I'll go and get it checked out. I'll be okay. I promise." Betty gives a small but worried smile. "I'll be right back. I love you." She slips out of his arms and rushes to their bedroom.

After shutting the door behind her, she slides out if her pajamas and puts on an outfit before dialing the doctors. After two rings, one if the office workers picks up. "Hello, thank you for calling. How may I help you?" A friendly voice answers.

Betty takes a deep breath before responding. "I would like to schedule the earliest possible appointment with Kelsie." She bit her lip and catches a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror. Her hair is a mess, dark circles are underneath her extravagant green eyes. She looks like a mess, much less a step away from being a mess herself, and just a few weeks before Christmas.

"Of course. May I ask what brings you in?" The lady response and a shiver of anxiety runs through her. Betty peaks through the door to make sure Jughead wasn't listening through the door. Luckily he's laying on the couch on his computer writing his novel. She closes the door and continues.

"Well, I've been feeling queasy for a few weeks and have been vomiting. I just took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I want to make sure the results were correct." Saying it out loud and hearing the words coming out if her gives her a surreal feeling. Jughead and her had made a plan; they were going to wait until marriage to try for a baby, wait until after graduating college. She'd been taking birth control pills, had she missed a day?

She sprints to the bathroom to check as the lady replies. "Sometimes drugstore tests can give a false positive. She's free this afternoon at twelve if you'd like to see her today. The next availability after then is next week Wednesday."

Betty finds her birth control pills and sure enough she missed a day. "Shit." She mutters under her breath. She regains her posture and collects herself. "Yes, this afternoon works fine. I'll see you guys then." She hangs up the phone lays her head in her hands. This is all her fault, and she can't imagine what Jughead's reaction will be.

After spending a minute in the position, she takes a deep breath an returns to the bedroom and collapses on their bed. Sleep over takes her and she drifts off into a dream.

~

A few hours pass by when Betty slowly opens her eyes. She shifts her body to see Jughead next to her arms wrapped around her waist. He smiles seeing she's awake and brings her to his chest. "Good afternoon, Betts. Did you sleep well?" He whispers in her ear.

At the mention of afternoon, Betty's heart begins to race and adrenaline courses through her. "Jug, what time is it?"

"It just turned twelve. Why?" His blue eyes gaze into hers. Panic starts to rile up inside Betty. She's already late and she hasn't even left the house.

"My appointment. I should be there by now. I have to go, but I'll be back soon. Take care." She kisses his cheek before getting out of bed and slipping on since shoes. Her quicken her pace as she gets into her car and makes her way toward the doctors.

She arrives a few minutes later and waits in a creme white painted waiting room trying to focus on anything but the high possibility that she is indeed pregnant.

A couple sits down next to her with a young baby in their arms. She glances at them from the corner out of her eye to see the baby's tiny tiny hand wrapped around, what Betty assumes to be, the mother's pointer finger. A smile grows on her face. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if this is what her future holds.

"Betty Cooper." A lady's voice calls breaking her out of her daydream and the anxiety returns to her. It might not be bad for her, but what about Jughead?

Betty slowly gets out of her chair and walks to the nurse standing outside of the door. "Please follow me to room three." The nurse instructs.

It doesn't take long for them to arrive to the room. She plops down on the patients chair. "Hello, I'm nurse Kelly. So what brings you in here today?" The nurse places her glasses on and begins typing on the computer.

"I missed a birth control pill and I think I may be pregnant. I took a home pregnancy test and it came back positive." Betty's voice wobbles a little. She tries focusing on the pictures of African animals but they do little to ease her nerves.

"I see. When was your last period?" Nurse Kelly questions looking up at Betty from her computer.

Betty tries to recall the last time, she didn't have one anytime recent. Then it dawns on her, she completely missed her period this last month and it hasn't shown signs of coming this month either. "Two months ago. I missed my period last month and my period hasn't shown signs of coming this month."

Nurse Kelly returns to typing on her computer. "Have you had any nausea? Any vomiting or unusual exhaustion?"

Betty nods, her heart pounding so hard she can hear it. "All of it. That's actually what prompted me to take the test in the first place. I know people have false positive tests all the time, I didn't want to tell my boyfriend if it turns out that's what it is."

Nurse Kelly types a few more things into the computer before getting up. "Okay, I'll go tell Dr. Kelsie that you are here." She gives a small understanding smile before walking out the door.

The silence in the room is unbearable. Betty's mind races through every single possible outcome that may happen. It may be a false pregnancy and she'll be paranoid every single time her periods even the slightest bit late, or she could be pregnant. She can't help but imagine the disappointed look on Jughead's face. His whole future would be ruined, she'd have to quit college to take care of their baby. Or what if he wants nothing to do with her and their baby? They've been through everything together, her murderous father and his voyage into the Serpents. What if Penny comes after their baby. Tears swell in Betty's eyes as she imagines the worst.

Just as she's about to burst into tears, Dr. Kelsie walks in holding a clipboard. "Hello, Betty. I see that you missed a birth control pill and got a positive for a pregnancy test, correct?" All Betty can do is nod her head. "Okay, here's what we can do. We can do, you can pee in this cup and we'll run it for a hormone produced during pregnancy. This one is a much more reliable than the home pregnancy tests." She holds out a small bottle out in front of her.

Slowly, Betty slides off the chair and takes the bottle from her hands. She exists the door and walks to the bathroom feeling awkward, like all eyes are on her when in reality nobody seems to pay any attention to her.

After her trip to the bathroom collecting the required urine sample, she walks back into the room and hands it back to the doctor.

"Perfect! I'll go and test it. I'll be right back with the results." Dr. Kelsie smiles and leaves the room. As Betty patiently awaits the results, she glances at her phone to see a missed call from Veronica. Sighing, she returns the call. Veronica picks up on the second ring.

"B! I have an emergency!" She shrieks into the phone taking Betty off guard.

"V, what happened? Is everybody okay? Anybody hurt? Hold on, let me text Jug." Betty starts to freak out opening her messages to her and Jughead's.

"No, not that kind of emergency. Christmas is next week and I still haven't gotten anything for Archie. I have no idea what to get him. I peaked at what his present for me is, and Betty, it's gorgeous! I need to get him something equally as special!" She cries into the phone.

Betty sighs in relief. "Just get him a new guitar. Whatever you get him he'll love. Now I have to go." She's about to end the call when Veronica stops her.

"Betty, this needs to be more special than some silly guitar this has to be huge. What's going on? You sound so serious. Is everything okay with you?" Veronica's worried tone brings her to tears.

"Veronica, I'm at the doctors right now awaiting some news. I'm so scared." She sobs into the phone. "It's only been a few minutes, but the not knowing is killing me."

Now it's Veronica who has the serious tone. "Oh shit. What's going on? Are you okay? Hold on I'll be right there."

"No! I'm fine, it's just. I think I'm pregnant. I took a pregnancy test at home and it was positive, so now I'm here. V, what if its positive? What am I going to do? What will Jughead say?" A single tear strolls down Betty's face as the door slowly opens. "I'll call you back." Before Veronica can say another word, she hangs up the phone and wipes her tear away.

Dr.. Kelsie sands at the door with a serious expression that sends chills down Betty's back. "I have the results. Betty Cooper, you're pregnant."

Jughead's POV

Jughead stars blankly at the glowing screen of his computer. He's spent the last hour trying to finish a chapter of his novel but hasn't made progress at all. "Damn it!" He yells in frustration. He's supposed to get a chapter in by Christmas, but all that occupies his mind is the box hidden in his underwear drawer. This morning, Betty had acted so distant and strange. What if she was regretting buying an apartment and moving in with him? Maybe he was rushing into this too fast. He doesn't even know how he's even going to ask her. They'd agreed on no gifts, so what if she refuses to even see what it is? What if the unbearable happens, what if she says no?

His disruptive thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his ringtone playing. He rushes out if his seat and answers the phone without looking at the caller ID. "Betts, is everything okay?" He answers without a pause.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not Betty." Archie's voice answers with an amused tone. "What's wrong with Betty that has you so worried?"

Jughead sighs in frustration at he sits back down on the couch. "Betty's been sick lately. She was acting so strange and out of character this morning. She left in such a hurry to her doctor's appointment, I was hoping for some news. So why have you called upon me?"

"I think Veronica saw my present for her. She's panicking right now. What if proposing to her isn't the best move? You're planning on proposing to Betty right? Or did you change your mind?" Archie's worried voice comes through the phone.

It takes everything in Jughead not to bang his head against a wall. "Why do I tell you anything? Archie, she's used to getting fancy accessories, not to be mean, but I highly doubt she realised what you are planning on doing with it. She probably thinks it's a Christmas gift and nothing more. Now please me alone. I have to finish this chapter and I'm no way close."

He's about to hang up when Archie keeps talking. "Well what should I do? She already knows about it. It's not much of a surprise."

"If you are so worried about it being a surprise or not, then just do it now. I have to hang up so Betty can call me if she needs me. Tell me how it goes though." Without hearing another word, Jughead hangs up and looks at his missed calls. Nothing. This is going to be a long week.

Betty's POV

The week turns out to be a long excruciating experience. Jughead works on his novel all night leaving Betty in her bed alone with the weight of keeping a secret from him. They barely spent their time together, and when they did, it was awkward and full of small talk. She ended up telling him she has a cold and it should get better soon.

It's Christmas eve and Betty is at the Doctor's for the first ultrasound. A part of her feels guilty about keeping the baby a secret causing him to miss seeing the baby for the first time in person, but the fear of his reaction holds her captive. She isn't even entirely sure what her feelings towards being pregnant are, which is partially why she's glad about being alone. She needs to figure out her feelings for herself without the influence of Veronica or Jughead.

Dr. Kelsie sets up the machine and lifts up Betty's shirt exposing her bare stomach. She then smothers on a clear cold gel that makes her stomach turn. Then, Dr. Kelsie presses a metal wand against her stomach covered with gel. The moditor lights up with with a hollow circle that represents the womb. "You see this right here?" Dr. Kelsie points at a small oval shape in the middle of the screen. "That's your baby." She points at the smaller circle attached to the oval. "That's the head and the oval part is the body. If you look closely you can see the little arms and legs beginning to form. From what I see, your baby looks completely healthy at eight weeks old. We will be able to tell the gender at sixteen to twenty weeks. Would you like a picture of the ultrasound?"

Betty stares in amazement at the monitor. Never in a million years she would have thought that a single imagine would evoke such emotion and sincere love. Tears swell in her eyes as she laughs as the baby moves a tiny bit. Then she turns her attention to the doctor and nods. "Yes, I would like a copy."

She spends a few more minutes listening to the heartbeat before going home and falling asleep on the bed.

~

Christmas morning soon arrives and Betty awakes to the smell of eggs and toast. She slides out of bed and peaks out of the door to find Jughead in the kitchen making breakfast. "Goodmorning Betts." Jughead greets noticing her in the doorway. "You sleep okay? You were whimpering in your sleep." His blue eyes darken as he says this.

A small smile forms as she walks to his and curl to to him. "Just a nightmare. But it's better now that you're here. Before Jughead gets a chance to respond, she kisses his lips.

They continue to kiss for a moment longer before he breaks away and scrapes some eggs onto a plate and hand it to her. "Eat up. I made extra in case you're hungry." He smirks before kissing her cheek and disappearing inside their room.

After Betty gets done with her breakfast, she starts the fire in the fireplace and warms herself in front of it. Jughead comes back into the living room and sits next to her. "I have something for you." He takes out a small box poorly wrapped in wrapping paper.

Betty stares at him in disbelief. "Jug, we agreed, no presents. You're a gift itself. But now that you mention it, I have something for you." She gets up and disappears inside their room. She produces an envelope from the hiding spot and returns to her seat next to him by the fireplace.

He gives her a stern look and shakes his head. "Betts, I can't accept whatever it is. But I have to insist you take this." He puts the box into her gentle hand.

"And I have to insist you take this." She sets the envelope down into his hand. "It's important. More important then whatever this is." She holds up the box.

Jughead sighs giving in. "How about this, we both at the same time open our gift." Betty nods her head agreeing and they both tear into their gift. She opens the box to see the most beautiful engagement ring in shape of a rose.

"Jug . . ." Betty gasps looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Betts . . . is this what I think it is?" Jughead holds up the picture of the ultrasound.

She nods as the tears roll down her face. "Yeah. I'm pregnant, Jug. You're going to be a dad."

A silence overtakes the room. "Jug, are you upset?" Betty asks breaking it.

"Are you kidding me? I've never been happier." Jughead smiles the purest, brightest smile Betty had ever seen. He then takes the box from her hand and get on a knee and holds out the ring. "Elizabeth Cooper, I love you like nobody has ever loved anyone. I swear I will protect you with my life, and I will love you more each and every day. I have never been a people person, but for you I am. I adore you with everything I am, and unexpected as it may be, I love our baby already. You'll never be alone. So will you be my partner for life and marry me?" His blue eyes had a look of the utmost vulnerability.

"Yes!" Betty cries out, this time in pure joy. Jughead slides the engagement ring on her finger and pulls her to him. Their lips meet and move in a series of passion and love. In that moment by the fire, their future starts.

#bughead #betty x jughead #betty and jughead #bughead is life #bughead is endgame #my writing #bughead one shot #bughead family #riverdale fandom #bughead fandom #please read #secret santa

[frigfridge]

just finished rewatching toy story 1 thru 3 over the past few days, wanted to share my thoughts:

i love these movies a whole lot. the first 2 hold a bunch of nostalgia for me because i was A Baby when 2 came out and when i was also A Baby i would just watch our VHS copy of toy story 1 over and over again. this also makes me the exact age group to be emotionally destroyed by toy story 3, which came out just as i was entering high school and hit really close to home

individual thoughts:

toy story: the first thing i noticed was it still looks really nice even watching in 2019!! which i think is kind of spectacular for the first feature-length computer-animated film. it no doubt helps that the plot is mostly focused on little plastic dolls without realistic hair or clothing to animate but the semi-”cartoon” art direction means the human characters also look pretty nice without going too far into the uncanny valley.

also, the plot is WAY darker than i remember?? not because of sid and all the body horror toys, but because for like half of the movie woodys friends think hes an actual (toy) murderer carrying around the severed arm of his victim (!!) like, its hilarious, but also wow theres a LONG way to go between there and the climax of toy story 3.

the soundtrack is probably my favorite of the bunch. part of that is probably nostalgia but i just really like the consistency of having randy newman singing every song. it sort of elevates him to part of the story, like an omniscient narrator singing woodys (and later buzzs) inner monologue. 2 (and especially 3) didnt have as many musical numbers, which i can understand with a shift to a larger-scale approach to storytelling, but i really like the feeling it gives number 1. “you got a friend in me” is an obvious classic thats been remixed and brought back in just about every piece of toy story media im aware of, but “strange things” and “i will go sailing no more” deserve just as much recognition and praise. there just isnt a weak number among them

toy story 2: heres where the story started getting bigger and more existential, which basically becomes the new direction of the series. which makes sense! this one released 4 years after the first, and while theres no real timeskip in the story (maybe 6 months?) it had been a little while since we last saw woody and the gang. everybody in the real world had gotten older, and with the turn of the millennium approaching, the theme of impermanence loomed large in the collective unconscious. well, maybe not in my unconscious, because i was 2. but its really interesting as kind of a “time capsule” to what people were thinking about as the 90s came to a close.

so toy story 2 was a little more grounded, a little more focus on the human world, but it was also more fantastical in its presentation. the opening “video game” sequence (which still looks amazing!!) and woodys nightmare (”i dont wanna play with you anymore...”) show the animators at pixar really found their groove and started getting experimental. and to great result!! the fantasy sequences are a lot of fun and help 2 really stand out.

i would be remiss not to mention jessies flashback song here. its something else they hadnt really done in the first film and i think it really works. jessie in this film unfortunately doesnt get to do much other than fight with woody about whether he should stay or go (except for when she saves him in the end) but this song makes her character work. it also helps that it destroys me every time

also i think this is the movie that gave me an appreciation for the acting of kelsey grammer. i dont really agree with his politics (i also dont know specifically what they are) but he is a damn fine actor and gives the prospector a very genuinely intimidating edge after his heel turn. the casting really makes the character here, but thats nothing new for toy story-- every voice works. if i were the casting director, i probably wouldnt have pulled erudite kelsey grammer for a character named “stinky pete,” but as it is now i couldnt imagine him voiced by anyone else.

the last thing about toy story 2 is it feels like there were a lot more pop culture references? at least as far as i noticed. there are apparently even more than i noticed but i caught on to the “also sprach zarathustra” riff in the opening, and the jurassic park rearview mirror gag. and of course the extended star wars reference with zurg vs. utility belt buzz (and i guess zurg in general.) the references are cute and mostly unobtrusive but really i could take or leave them.

oh yeah also al is hilarious. just this rude, neurotic businessman whos incredibly self-important for the owner of a minor(?) toy store chain. hes such a puffed-up jerk, every time hes on-screen is a delight

toy story 3: this one kills me to death. i always get misty-eyed during “when somebody loved me” but the ending of 3 where andy introduces his toys to bonnie and plays with them one last time made me sob the first time i watched it. and it still does! thats the long game right there, thats the payoff of over 10 years loving these characters. its an emotional ketchup bomb, everything gets all messy and soggy and sweet. hopefully 4 can follow up, but im not really worried about that-- ive heard some good things. damn, its been 9 years since this movie came out, though! it really doesnt feel all that long, but i guess i havent been doing all that much

i actually dont know if i have much else to say about 3. the opening with the re-imagining of the previous films openings (woody versus one-eyed bart, buzz and woody vs. the evil dr. porkchop) is a highlight, although theres a conspicuous lack of bo peep. ive heard she has a big part in 4, but it was kind of weird to see a lot of toys missing and their absence (mostly) glossed over after the first few minutes. i miss r.c. and lenny, but i get they wanted to narrow down the cast so all of them could get in on the plot.

speaking of which, the escape scene is great too. its kind of a crystallizing moment of how close these characters are, and how well they work together. it reminds me a lot of the escape from sids house in the first movie, but there woody was working with sids body-horror toys and seemed to strike up a rapport with them bizarrely quickly. (speaking of which, i miss those toys! their designs were super cool, but i cant imagine they got much merchandise, especially babyface with the sharp, metal spider legs.) here, though, woody and the gang cooperate the best they ever have, and it really paints a picture of how close theyve become over the years, and justifies the emotional climax in the landfill. this is what i was talking about when i said i was surprised how dark toy story 1 got! these toys all hated woodys guts back then for what they thought he did to buzz. they kicked him out of a moving truck! its just weird to think about that conflict between them when you know how long they end up sticking together. but thats, like, neat, so its ok. it feels earned, its just kind of crazy in hindsight.

toy story 3 was also obviously made long after the first two-- by comparison, the lighting is way more sophisticated, the humans are a lot more detailed. theres just a lot more detail In General. the main cast is, like, super dirty for the middle 90% of the film, and it feels like, yeah, We Have This Technology Now. we can render so many individual glitter sprinkles suck to hamms ass and they will be in every single scene. the “fur tech” on lotso and buster is also an obvious clue, especially in the flashback to lotso trudging through the rain back to his owners house. its like “look! we can make this teddy bear SO wet!” and wow! yeah! you did! so wet!

lotso himself is also an interesting villain in terms of sheer bastardness. he is just a huge jerk. he could have hit that button so easily! and he was so mean to the baby! but at the same time hes a great character in how he slowly “changes” throughout the movie. he is kind of an obvious “pixar ‘twist’ villain” but again, the amazing performance by ned beatty really saves him. also he does get a nice comeuppance at the end, which was necessary because hes really the biggest villain in the series so far. hes knowingly malicious and doesnt have any greater motive, hes just an embittered megalomaniac who (apparently) has sent other toys to be broken, thrown away, and incinerated at the landfill. he honestly deserves worse than being strapped to the front of a truck but it works for a family movie.

i have a couple more thoughts on 3 (i guess i did have a fair amount of stuff to say about it) but im getting tired of writing. the music is good as usual, but the vocal stuff being entirely back-loaded (in the credits) is a bit disappointing since ive always been a fan of the songs, but i get that they were going for something different. the jokes about ken being, uh, ‘flamboyant’ felt out of place, mostly the one at the end (”uh, buzz? barbie didnt write this”) because it comes from one of the gang and not unnamed lotso goon #3, but i guess its pretty tame in the scheme of things.

overall im really looking forward to seeing what 4 does with the series. whew!

#hopefully ill see 4 this weekend #personal essay #got pretty honkin long. click at your own risk

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part II - Chapter 7) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Main street. Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

The team of Darcy, Selvig, Aaron and Jane treaded up the street towards their lab, fast approaching their destination. They were a few feet away from the entrance when a pick-up truck pulled up before them, stopped by traffic. In the back of the vehicle, Jane noticed – partially covered by a tarp – was the dark matter analysis machine from her lab.

“Hey!” she yelled, a bout of anger and a twinge of panic igniting in her, “That’s my stuff!”

Sprinting now, they reached the lab a few seconds later, only to be met with the sight of a gathering of towering government SUVs parked outside, with S.H.I.E.L.D agents hauling equipment out of the workroom and loading it onto waiting vans.

Another group of agents were stripping all the equipment from inside Jane’s van and carting it away, while others emerged from her trailer, arms loaded with scientific instruments and documents.

“What the hell is going on here?” an irate Jane demanded, frowning as she spun around frantically, looking from Agent to Agent, trying to gather an answer.

They ignored her.

Then, a moment later, Agent Coulson leisurely walked over to her, stealing a quick glance in the direction of Aaron, who immediately straightened up at the sight of Director Fury’s right hand man. The doctor’s uneasiness subsided then; he recognized that the presence of S.H.I.E.L.D personnel was most likely a result of your doing.

“Ms Foster,” Coulson spoke in an overly-official manner, the customary tone of all S.H.I.E.L.D Agents, “I’m Agent Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

It appeared as if Doctor Selvig had been previously acquainted with the organisation, too, because as soon as the name slipped past Coulson’s lips, a wary expression grew on his face, and he stepped forward to place a warning hand on Jane’s shoulder.

“I don’t care who you work for – you can’t do this!” Jane argued.

“Jane,” Selvig said firmly, warning evident in his voice, “This is more serious than you realise.”

“Erik’s right, Jane,” Aaron spoke up, stepping in to try and aid the situation; he knew better than the rest of them just how severe the condition was, “Let it go.”

“Let it go?!” she scoffed, turning to look at Aaron in disbelief as she gestured to all of her stuff being hauled away, “This is my life!”

“We’re here investigating a security threat,” Coulson tried to explain, “We need to appropriate your equipment and all your atmospheric data.”

“By ‘appropriate’ you mean ‘steal’?”

Instead of answering, Coulson handed her a cheque. “This should more than compensate you for your trouble.”

Without bothering to even glance at the piece of paper, Jane threw it to the ground.

“I can’t just pick up the replacements from RadioShack!” Jane was borderline hysterical at this point. “I made most of that equipment myself!”

“Then I’m sure you can do it again,” Coulson replied without missing a beat.

“And I’m sure I can sue you for violating my constitutional rights!”

“We’re the good guys, Ms Foster.”

Coulson tried to walk away, but Jane rushed forward and blocked his path. She was fully herself, fuelled by outrage.

“So are we! We’re on the verge of understanding something extraordinary.” She held up her notebook before continuing. “Everything I know about this phenomenon is in this lab and in this book, and no one has the right to take it from me.”

Coulson gestured to a nearby agent, who promptly plucked the notebook out of Jane’s hand and added it to the pile he was carrying. Jane was left stunned.

Heading for his car, Coulson spoke one last sentence before leaving.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

 ✧ ✧ ✧

Fifteen minutes later. S.H.I.E.L.D base. Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

“Yeah, that was my call,” you breathed, holding your phone to your ear with your right hand as the left tangled itself in your hair. Slowly, you walked to the window overlooking the hangar bay and observed the agents as they transported the various pieces of equipment inside. “I’m watching them move it in as we speak.”

“I thought as much,” Aaron’s voice crackled through the receiver, as he spoke into his cell from his hiding spot behind Jane’s trailer, occasionally sneaking glances at the other three inside the lab, “Jane’s about two minutes away from having an aneurism.”

“And I feel bad that we took her life’s work, I really do, but we can’t risk-“

“I know, love,” Aaron said gently, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

With a tired huff, you leaned your forehead against the metal frame of the window and for a little while, a comfortable silence was the only communication between you and Aaron.

Then, “When was the last time you slept? And no, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling is not sleeping.”

Groaning inwardly, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, rolling your eyes. Sometimes you wished that this man didn’t know you as well as he did.

“I got a half-hour in on the flight yesterday morning. That count?”

“(Y/N)-“

“I know, I know,” you cut in before he could give you one of his ‘overbearing friend’ lectures, “It’s not for lack of trying, though. I can’t fall asleep, regardless of how hard I try.”

You could practically feel the doctor’s smile through the phone as he muttered his next words. “Maybe you just miss me.”

Overriding all of the stress, anxiety and panic that had taken over you the last couple of days, Aaron managed to get you to crack a small smile.

And he was right – all of the past week’s events had made you miss someone. Whether or not that someone was Aaron, though…

“Maybe,” you said quietly.

With a soft chuckle, Aaron straightened himself up and dusted off his pants, which had captured dust from the trailer. “Listen, now that S.H.I.E.L.D has all of Jane’s research, my consultation is technically over, so should I travel to HQ? Or the base?”

“No, I think it’s best if you stay,” you answered, stuffing your free hand in the back pocket of your jeans as you moved away from the window, “I need you to be my eyes and ears – just in case they decide to… I dunno… get revenge.”

“Don’t think that’s something you need to be worried about, love.”

“Yeah, well… my gut tells me differently.”

 ✧ ✧ ✧

 Pet store. Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

“I need a horse.”

With a slight frown, the pet store clerk looked up from their phone and at the completely serious face of Thor, standing just in front of the front counter.

“Sorry, we don’t sell horses. Just dogs, cats, birds,” they informed.

“Then give me one of those,” Thor settled, “large enough to ride.”

The clerk looked thoroughly confused, but before either of them could say anything more, the sound of a car horn from across the street caught the god’s attention, and he turned to the open door.

Across the street, Jane called to him from the Pinzgauer. “You still want a lift?”

~

As the van headed away, it continued up a hillside, revealing a light illuminating the valley beyond. As they moved closer, they saw that the glow came from a massive S.H.I.E.L.D base, now set up around the crater – vehicles, trailers, barricades.

Armed guards were manning a gate in the razor wire fence that ran fifty yards from the crater’s edge, enclosing the complex. Clear, plastic access tubes with junction boxes lead to a translucent cube structure erected in the middle of the crater.

Through the glass walls of the base’s command trailer, Coulson was directing technicians, busy at work.

Within the cube structure itself, a team of S.H.I.E.L.D scientists worked with high-tech machinery, analysing the object at the centre of it all – Mjolnir.

Jane and Thor crawled to the edge of the ridge, looking through binoculars at the impressive S.H.I.E.L.D base.

“That isn’t a satellite crash,” Jane spoke lowly, “They would have hauled the wreckage away, not built a city around it.”

Not bothering to reply, Thor shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. “You’re going to need this.”

“Why?”

All of a sudden, thunder rumbled overhead. She stared at him intently, before taking the jacket.

“Stay here,” he instructed her, “Once I have Mjolnir, I will return what they stole from you.” He looked at her thoughtfully, already knowing that she might disobey his request. “Deal?”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “Look what’s down there! You can’t just walk in, grab our stuff and walk out!”

“No.”

Jane looked relieved to hear him say that. But that relief lasted a mere two seconds.

“I’m going to fly out,” Thor corrected and before Jane could react, he started heading toward the crater. The first drops of rain began to patter into the dust.

“Wait…” she tried, but he was already gone.

~

Inside the cubic containment structure surrounding Mjolnir, the needle belonging to a handheld sensor device was spiking, prompting the technician holding it to look over at the hammer – it was giving off a subtle glow. Out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning cracked across the sky above.

A computer monitor inside the base’s security room showed an aerial infrared video image of the area, but it was fuzzy, and the S.H.I.E.L.D workers weren’t able to see much.

With a headset on his head, Dallon stared at the monitors intently, looking for any sign of a disturbance, while an older agent – Sitwell – looked on from the techie’s side, none-too-pleased.

Pointing out the video feed to his superior, Dallon began speaking. “Feed from the keyhole,” he explained, gesturing to the fuzzy images onscreen, “Can barely penetrate the cloud cover.”

The techie hiked a thumb at another monitor, which was squelching with static. It showed an SAR shot of the area, laid out over a terrain map.

“Tech’s barely working as is it, with all the interference that thing’s giving off,” Dallon continued with a huff as he motioned towards the hammer.

He leaned forward to check one of the computers. It showed an incoming airplane. “Hey, we’ve got a commercial aircraft coming in right over us,” he warned, pressing a few keys and enlarging the GPS system, “Southwest Airlines, Flight 5434.”

“Reroute it, like all the others,” Sitwell instructed sternly.

“Right,” Dallon responded, fingers already flying across the keyboard as he worked on doing what he was told; pausing for a moment, he turned to look at the other agent, “Can I get the passengers some free drinks for the trouble?”

Sitwell glared at him, not at all amused. With a shrug, the techie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned back to the computer.

“It’d be a nice gesture,” he mumbled, continuing to type. He noticed something on an adjacent monitor screen, and held up a hand. “Hold on a sec… we got something outside the fence, west side…”

He pointed at the screen and through the haze, a thermal image huddled beside the fence was visible. Sitwell pulled his radio from his belt and brought it to his mouth.

“DeLancey, Jackson – check it out,” he ordered the two agents on the ground, who immediately hopped into a Jeep and took off to investigate.

Sitwell peered through the window of the security room, something strange catching his attention. In the window’s reflection, a glow could be seen – one that was emanating from the hammer containment area.

Below, the Jeep pulled up to the fence as the Agents scanned the area with a flashlight. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Looks like we’re good here,” Agent Jackson reported into his radio, “Must have been another coyote.”

Just then, the two agents noticed a section of the fence had been bent up from the ground, leaving a noticeably sized gap. Before either of them could react and call it in, a massive crack of lightning illuminated the night sky – revealing the silhouette of a large man standing outside the driver’s side of the Jeep. DeLancey looked over, noticing.

“Jackson?” He cocked his head at the window.

The agents hastily reached for their weapons, but Thor elbowed Jackson across the jaw, causing him to drop his handgun. The limp body of the agent slumped over the steering wheel, as his partner started to raise a shotgun at Thor.

Thor grabbed the barrel of the gun and yanked it out of DeLancey’s hands, thrusting the hilt back and smashing the agent’s jaw.

With both threats neutralised, the god reached into the Jeep to grab a rain slicker, slipping it on as a means of camouflage. He hurried across the base, managing to get out of sight just as another agent approached the Jeep.

Seeing his unconscious colleagues, he quickly called into his radio. “Agents down! We’ve got a perimeter breach!”

Back inside the security room, all of the monitors were squelching with static and interference, as Dallon worked frantically to try and counteract the problem. Sitwell was holding his PDA with the intention of gaining contact with the agents on the ground – but even that was on the fritz.

He and Dallon watched the monitors warily, as on the screens was the hammer containment area, all lit up as Mjolnir started to crackle with energy.

“Get Coulson,” Sitwell calmly instructed Dallon, while he moved to punch the alarm.

~

As Thor made his way towards the crater, the alarm blared all around him and security lights exploded to life.

On the ridge just above the crater, a spotlight fired out from the base and swept across the ground towards Jane. She ducked down before the light could catch her, out of sight. Pulling out her cellphone, she dialled Selvig’s number, but got his voicemail.

With a sigh, she searched for Aaron’s number and pressed call. He answered on the second ring.

“Jane? Where are you?”

“Aaron,” she breathed, tossing a fleeting look over her shoulder, “okay, first of all, don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine, really.”

More sounds of mayhem came from the base.

“Wha-“

“But if you don’t hear from me again,” she cut the doctor off, not allowing him to speak, “you might want to come out to the crater site and look for me. I kind of did what you and Erik said I shouldn’t do. Thanks. Bye.”

She hung up.

~

Emerging purposefully from the S.H.I.E.L.D command trailer, Coulson marched across the mud, radio to his ear. He looked out across the lit up site uneasily.

Across the way, a guard moved through the base, rifle in hand. From the shadows behind a trailer, a figure looked out at him. As the guard raises his radio to check in, Thor quickly rushed towards him and choked him out, letting his body fall to the ground.

The god noticed the AR-15 rifle lying on the ground beside the fallen guard, and he stared at the weapon quizzically; they didn’t have such things on Asgard. Hearing more guards approach, he made the decision to snatch the weapon up anyway, and took cover in the shadows of the trailer.

The guards passed by and Thor peered around the corner, seeing the well-guarded main entrance tube to the centre of the site. A bright light suddenly illuminated his face. He looked to see an ATV moving across the ground, shining its spotlight right on him – the driver had spotted him, and raised his radio to report it.

Knowing he had to act fast, Thor raised the rifle – then flipped it over in the air and caught it by the barrel. He reared the weapon back, then hurled it like a hammer. It flew through the air, smashing the ATV’s spotlight.

Glass and debris showered the driver, who took his hands off the wheel to cover his face and protect himself. Without the guidance of the driver, the ATV roared out of control past the guards near the tube entrance, who all reacted and began chasing after it.

Emerging from the shadows, Thor watched as the guards abandoned the site entrance. Now was his chance.

~

Climbing to the lip of the crater as a light rain began to fall, Coulson looked down and eyed the damage of the ATV crash. He was not pleased. In a matter of seconds, the light rain became a downpour.

Down at the entrance tube, Thor raced up the ramp, only to come face-to-face with two guards as he rounded a corner. Without hesitation, he knocked out the first guard, and then tackled the second before hurrying further on, just as more guards came up a ladder ahead.

The god punched the closest guard, sending him tumbling backwards, toppling the others on the ladder behind him. He took off running, then, as the guards regrouped and gave chase.

Thor spotted the glow of Mjolnir in the central cube, through the translucent walls of the tunnels, and he hurried through the tunnels to find a way towards it.

Meanwhile, still on the crater lip, Coulson stood barking out orders, as the guards in the tunnel rushed to cut off Thor. The agent activated his radio.

“I want eyes up high. With a gun. Now!”

Inside the command trailer, a sniper dressed in black tactical gear and high-tech night vision equipment picked up a rifle and slung it over his shoulder before heading out.

Agent Barton.

Lightning crackled all around the camp as he approached a crane bucket. After he leaped in, the bucket lifted into the air.

~

As Thor proceeded to race through the tunnel, yet another guard ran right at him, on a collision course. Thor took him out with a punch to the gut, and then turned to see more agents coming towards him.

Picking up the fallen guard he punched, he threw him into the approaching agents, scattering them. He then turned around and ran back the way he came, with the agents still chasing.

Coulson watched the commotion in the tunnel complex before heading off for the command trailer to enter the tunnels. Meanwhile, the crane basket ascended into the high winds as Barton readied his sniper rifle.

Inside the complex, Thor headed down a ladder form a junction box, with other figures converging on him.

Coulson entered the tunnels through the command trailer and called on his radio. “Barton. Talk to me.”

The crane holding Barton arced out over the structure. Barton took aim. “One shot, one kill, sir,” he said over his comm, “Just give the word.”

From the agent’s point of view overlooking the complex, it was a clear field of vision, nowhere to hide. A digital read-out gave information on the distance to the target. He locked in on Thor, who was inside the plastic tubing, emerging from the junction box and heading towards the cube structure.

“Hello, handsome,” he said slyly, a small smirk on his face at the prospect of having a clear shot. He never missed.

Still racing through the tunnel, Thor came across a wall of agents; the god roared and barrelled through them – elbowing, punching – whatever it took to keep on moving.

As he took down the last agent, Thor saw the last junction box and the entrance to the cube structure up ahead, and he wasted no time in sprinting towards it. He was so close, able to actually see Mjolnir within the middle of the structure, when – bam!

From out of nowhere, a fist landed a powerful blow across his jaw, sending him reeling. Dazed, Thor looked up to see a huge S.H.I.E.L.D agent – the biggest of them all – standing between him and his hammer in the cube structure beyond. With a once-over, Thor sized him up.

“You’re big.” Thor grinned and cocked his head to the side. “Fought bigger.”

Within a split second, Thor and the Huge Agent exploded through the wall of the junction box, then crashed into the mud, sending both of them sliding across the ground.

Barton had Thor full in his sights, standing still as a statue as he awaited further instructions.

Coulson hurried through the tunnel, ready to give the word to Barton, when he stopped short all of a sudden. He could see what looked an awful lot like an electrical storm erupting inside the structure ahead, directly above the crater… and the hammer.

~

Pushing open the glass door to the temporary office space in the base, you wiped the remaining droplets of water from your hands onto your jeans before entering the room.

Instinctively, you went to retrieve your phone from the tabletop where you’d left it only minutes ago; as you did so, the abundance of notifications blowing up the screen made you frown.

The frown soon turned from one of confusion to one of worry when you saw that the notifs were all messages of missed calls from Aaron. You had left to go to the bathroom a mere three minutes ago, and the fact that he had called ten times over that short span of time brought you nothing but unease.

Hastily, you placed your thumb over the home button, unlocking the phone. You were just about to press the call button when the sound of your ringtone sounded throughout the space, sounding even more piercing than usual now that you were so full of anxiety.

With shaky hands, you answered the call and pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N), oh, finally!” The relief in Aaron’s voice was undeniable, but it soon subsided, overtaken by the sheer panic that he wasn’t able to mask – try as he might.

You listened intently to every single syllable that spilled from his lips and into the receiver, feeling the panic transfer over to you just as easily as his words did.

“Fuck,” you cursed, not even bothering to end the call, instead just turning sharply on your heel, exiting the room and sprinting down the length of the base.

~

Thor and the huge agent struggled to find their footing in the mud, their balance completely thrown off. Through the translucent walls of the cube structure, Thor saw Mjolnir, but the agent rose up before him, blocking his view almost entirely.

Rain and blood trickled down Thor’s face as he lunged forward, whipping his feet in front of him then kicking out, nailing the huge agent in the chest. The agent went down hard as Thor’s momentum clashed with him.

The god stood, heading for the cube structure, when he was yanked by his ankle in a last effort by the agent. Looking down at his foe, Thor dropped backwards, pile driving his elbow into the fallen agent’s chest; he grimaced in pain, defeated, as the god raced on.

From outside the hammer containment cube, Thor ripped an opening in the plastic wall of the structure. He stood there – soaking, bleeding, caked with wet earth. His hammer rested just a few yards before him, energy surging around it.

Coulson stepped into the structure through an access tunnel, one storey up.

As Thor approached the hammer, Mjolnir started to glow brighter, blue electricity sparking off its surface. The crackling energy seemed to reach out to him. Coulson noticed it, and his interest was piqued.

Above the open ceiling of the structure, Barton’s crane bucket came into view. Wind and rain whipped around the agent as he stared into his rifle site, locked on the back of Thor’s head – his finger on the trigger.

Thor stood next to the hammer, feeling its power. He reached out to it confidently. Coulson observed from above, armed agents approaching behind him. He motioned for them to hold their positions, then radioed Barton.

“Barton…”

Barton stood ready to take Thor down; his finger started to squeeze the trigger.

“Coulson!” you called out, panting as you scrambled your way up the hill; your clothes were stained with mud and your wet hair was matted, flat against your head. “Don’t.”

The agent turned to look at you, squinting his eyes infinitesimally. You didn't say anything to him, just stood there as rain pelted down, looking at him with wide-eyes.

And he understood.

“…hold your fire.”

Barton released the trigger, pulling up. Coulson let his gaze linger on you for a couple more seconds, before both of you turned your attention to the god, watching in anticipation as Thor wrapped his hand around the hammer. He smiled, triumphant, and lifted… but the hammer didn’t move.

Utterly perplexed, Thor tried again with two hands, to no avail – anger and frustration quickly took over him. He strained with all his might, screaming from the effort, bellowing up at the storm and lightning above him.

Something began appearing on the sides of Mjolnir – glowing runes. Thor looked down, seeing them. But still, the hammer didn’t budge.

The god fell to his knees before it, rain pouring down around him, as the glowing runes faded away. He failed.

Unworthy.

Coulson looked on, clearly disappointed, and you… well, you weren’t entirely sure just how to feel. Before you could decide, your focus shifted as the S.H.I.E.L.D agents moved in, guns trained on Thor, surrounding him.

Coulson activated his radio. “Ground units, move in. Show’s over.”

As the hoard of agents surrounded him, Thor didn’t seem to notice or care. He just sat there on his knees, head bowed in the rain – a man broken, lost.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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