#it’s through the whole state but Chicago is the best part | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rootbeersturniolo · 2 months

Text

the first part of this series.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: the new semester at chicago university started with nothing more than the troubles of relationships, rumors, and studies. everything was going fine until the death of their bestfriend. at the end of the day there’s only one question they can ask; would you love somebody enough to kill for them?

warnings: mentions of death and murder, alcohol, drinking, semi public smut, homophobia, assault.

Chicago, Illinois. The place I’ve been living in for the past nineteen years. Most people look at our city as a tourist attraction. The scenery catching many visitors eyes as they stopped through the states of the northeast.

What made it so interesting? I wouldn't know. There was much beauty to the actual city, I'll admit that, but there was more mystery under the rooted trees of Illinois.

My life in Chicago was something I’ve grown comfortable with, almost like a routine.

Walking back from school with my best friends while the wind entangled our hair, a group of people I cherished with every fibre of my being.

I met Natalie first, she was one of the popular girls in our elementary school and I was… not. But one day she asked me to color with her and she’s been stuck by my side since, like sisters.

We argued occasionally, like sisters did, but other than that we’ve been close ever since. We’ve made it through middle school, high school, and now we were attending college together, along with the a few other members of our group.

Through Natalie I met Jackson, yet another person who I considered to be too popular for my presence, but somehow the dynamic worked.

The two of them have been on and off since freshman year of high school. Though, no matter how much they went through they always ended up together again. No amount of tears would stop that.

Nobody even considered what they had to be a relationship. Most wouldn’t even consider it love. They loved each other obviously, they’d known each other for so long. But they’ve never been in love, but in lust instead.

It was not a relationship I ever aspired for.

When I was left to play by myself at recess, Nick had approached me, his atmosphere was immediately welcoming and we became swing buddies for the rest of middle school—Even when it was considered childish.

Nick was someone I could tell everything to, there was never judgement between the two of us and it was always comfortable, safe.

Clicking with Nicks brother Chris was easy, him and I were practically the same person and we shared so many similar thought processes. It was like a brother-sister dynamic, sure, there was bickering and teasing, but at the end of the day I knew he’d be there for me. His words of affirmation got me through high school, but for a while Matt was just sort of… there.

He was never one to start a conversation, even getting him to actively participate in one was a stretch. He was reserved and mainly kept to himself. I didn’t mind though, because when he did speak it was sweet.

Our dynamic started to change our junior year of highschool. Through raging hormones, and the fact we were always together, it was inevitable that our friendship would soon change.

Now we’d been together for two years. The best two years of my life.

Matt was my first boyfriend, and he was the perfect example of how every boyfriend should be. He was loving, caring, and would do anything for me. I’ll never forget the day that changed everything.

“Chris! What are you doing?” Nick asked, visibly annoyed at his brother’s actions. Chris just rolled his eyes in response. “It’s a small bite Nick calm down, you’re acting like I ate the whole thing.”

Nick scoffed. “Have you heard of asking? Last time I checked we weren’t obligated to share food since we were in the womb thirteen years ago.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hey guys—” Matt started speaking from beside me, not getting far before his brother interrupted him. Like usual.

“It’s ice cream Nick, not gold.” Chris replied as he takes another bite of his own fro yo, clearly not understanding or caring for his brother’s frustrated reaction.

Our group had decided to bike to the local ice cream diner on the warm summer day, especially because those days aren’t common in Chicago.

“Guys let’s—” Matt’s cut off yet again, even after raising the volume behind his voice. I look to him briefly, not wanting to stare but also feeling bad for the boy.

The rest of the group eventually continues their conversation, not even acknowledging Matt or his attempts to speak and it’s clear he’s defeated—his head laying low as he mumbled something to himself.

I felt a slight sting to my heart looking at him like that, it wouldn’t feel right to join in with the rest of the group. “Hey Matt?”

His head perked up, he made eye contact with me as a slight glimmer of hope re entered his face. “Yeah Charlotte?” He asked.

I smile, him and I aren’t close, but for whatever reason seeing him happy made me happy. “What were you trying to say earlier?”

Ever since that simple summer day, getting ice cream with the group, Matt and I had a newfound understanding for one another.

He wasn’t always listened to, getting caught behind his over achieving brothers in almost every aspect of his life, but I would always be there to tell him that he’s doing enough—that he is enough.

This wasn’t a one sided thing though, I had often struggled with surges of sadness. There wasn’t always a reason but it could easily get to a point where I’d lose all motivation for everything and feel incredibly helpless—and maybe I was a little helpless, but I always had Matt there to try to help and that’s what stuck with me.

He’d clean my room if it felt too overwhelming to complete, or just sit in silence next to me when I didn’t have it in me to speak to him. It’s a mutual relationship that’s carried by balance on both ends and it works for us.

This general understanding of one another has made us… close.

“Mm— fuck just like that.” I let out a muffled moan as my eyes rolled into the back of my head, a familiar hand covering my mouth as our bodies moved in a rhythm that suits us.

My leg begins to ache slightly as it’s propped up on a toilet seat, but it’s impossible to focus on anything when Matt’s thrusting his hips into me at a pace I can’t stay quiet in—one hand is placed gently on my lower stomach as leverage for him to thrust impossibly deeper into me while his other hand holds a firm pressure on my swollen lips, keeping me silent.

Public sex was not something on my bucket list, but the combination of my boyfriend's neediness and my inability to focus on anything other than his hands… it was kind of inevitable.

“Stay quiet baby, cmon.” He speaks quietly, clearly fighting back moans of his own as his tip continually makes contact with my g-spot, the angle only making the feeling more intense.

One thing about a quickie is that it needs to be quick, the loud music pouring through the hinges of the door serving as a constant reminder that we aren’t entirely alone.

I’m unable to speak fully, but Matt knows me well enough to know I’m close by the way my back arches away from him and my toes curl slightly onto the seat.

He also knows exactly what it takes for me to finish quick.

The boys lips make gentle contact with my exposed neck, sucking at a spot he’s grown comfortable with while his hand on my lower stomach inches even lower. “You gonna cum for me here? Getting fucked senseless in a public bathroom turn you on?” He asks.

Once again I’m unable to reply, if I speak, I moan—and that’s the last thing we need with our whole friend group out in the living room, oblivious to our current position.

His fingers make a light contact with my throbbing clit, causing my head to fall back into his shoulder as my body shutters at the touch. Subconsciously I clench onto him, nearing my orgasam already, what’s unfortunate is that he’s unable to mask the moan that escapes his lips.

I love his noises, always have—but right now? I wish the fucker would shut the hell up.

He looked at me with an apology riddled in his blue eyes, and it’s hard not to forgive him with his fingers that pick up the pace on my clit and his hips that continue to slam into my walls.

Definitely forgiven.

I grab on the sink in front of me to stabilize myself, my orgasam still threatening to release onto the length inside of me, my mouth widening at the sensation coursing through my body. He leans in to whisper into my ear once more. “Can you be quiet cumming on my cock pretty girl?”

I nod almost too enthusiastically as the build up in my stomach becomes too overwhelming to ignore, squeezing my eyes shut and biting my lip, trying so desperately to stay quiet—although with Matt’s slip up, it might be a lost cause.

My abs clench as shocks of pleasure shoot through my muscles, the feelings of Matt’s chest pressed against my back has me smiling at the closeness of it all, the small amount of intimacy that can come with a bathroom quickie.

He finishes practically right after me. He also got off knowing how good he made me feel, that was his favorite part.

With one more kiss planted on my temple he pulls out, discarding the condom in the small trashcan while I slide my pants back on, pulling down my shirt slightly to fully cover myself again.

We look to each other once more, mentally preparing ourselves for the walk of shame, knowing Matt’s loud ass will be teased by our friends awaiting our return. I place a finger on his chest. “This is your fault Matthew just letting you know.” He smiles slightly before opening the door and walking out to the slightly less crowded living room.

Our friend group resides in the living room, sprawled around the floor and the couch, most of them at least five drinks in.

Matt’s hand stayed interlocked with mine as we occupied our recent position on the couch beside the window cill littered with our old drinks.

I knew someone was going to mention something regarding Matt and I’s disappearance to the bathroom, but the last thing I needed was the recently found annoying voice from across the room to bring it up.

“Did you two have fun?” Natalie asked, raising her eyebrow as she leaned further against her seat. I rolled my eyes before shaking my head, taking my previous cup from the window.

She clearly sensed my annoyance, but she was drunk, and she was also Natalie which meant she didn’t care enough to move on.

“Better than doing it with Collin’s in there.” She chuckled lightly, her flushed cheeks turning into a smile as she ran her fingers throughout her dirty blonde locks.

My grip on Matt’s hand tightened out of pure frustration and embarrassment. At a party full of half of our class, and this is what she wanted to talk about. The rumor had been spreading like wildfire, and there was only one person to blame.

Natalie.

Her recent inquiries and speculations over me hooking up with our professor for extra credit instead of just doing the work myself.

"We've all been there before, there's no shame." Natalie shrugged as she brought the red solo cups to her matching red lips. Her eyes were heavy and her words were slow, more relaxed than her usual personality.

l let out a soft sigh as my gaze traced towards her.

This wasn't the night I wanted to talk about anything regarding Natalie's theories about my personal life. Even though they were obviously wrong, and everyone else could vouch for that.

She looked at me with her drunken eyes, her expression screaming I don't believe you as she took another drink.

"I don't blame you, he's hot."

"You're just getting ridiculous." I finally snapped, my jaw slightly clenched as I turned to her once more. Suddenly the attention was only on me. She furrowed her eyebrows in surprise. "Do you have anything better to do?” I shook my head.

It was becoming hard to pretend that her constant comments weren't driving me crazy. Even if I knew that they shouldn't, and even if I knew that what she was saying was just her own personal beliefs.

The room quickly turned silent as my eyes remained on Natalie. Her cheeks flushed red. Either from the alcohol or being put on the spot for the first time in her life.

"Excuse me?" She replied, setting down her drink as a soft laugh left her lips. I let out a frustrated breath before pushing myself from the couch, letting my feet take me as far away from her as possible. Even if that was just the kitchen.

I placed my hands on the counter, taking a deep breath as the crowd pushed around me, pouring endless combinations of beverages into their recycled red cups.

Only a few moments had passed before a pair of ringed hands came in contact with my waist. I let out a muffled sigh as Matt turned me around, my face coming in contact with his. He smiled gently, running his hands along my hipbone.

"You ok?" He mumbled, scanning my face as I rolled my eyes with a shrug. I crossed my arms over my chest before I finally nodded. "I'm fine, she's drunk." I replied.

“Doesn’t mean she’s not annoying you.” He replied, his cold rings continuing to glide along my hips as his eyes stay fixated on my own.

He’s right of course, Natalie became more and more annoying as time went on, her inflated self esteem made it impossible to be around her sometimes—but she’s still apart of the group that stays rooted in middle school friendships.

“I’m just sick of the shit.” I pause, taking a quick swig of whatever random substance resides on the counter next to me. “But professor Collin’s? Really?” I sighed.

He frowned gently, pushing a strand of hair behind my face as he continued to look down at me. His eyes had been slightly glazed over from the alcohol mixed with our recent events.

“I don’t love the way he talks to you.” He said, quietly enough to avoid anyone overhearing this conversation. The rumor was already spread, no need to continue to slander my name.

I roll my eyes. “He’s a nice guy with a wife and kids. I don’t think he’s an actual weirdo he just…” I paused my words. “He chooses the wrong way to say things sometimes”

“He also wants to get in your pants.” He blurts out slightly.

I can’t be bothered to continue this conversation anymore, we’ve talked about it before but I stand by the innocence of the teacher-student dynamic I share with my professor. “He’s not the only one.” I tease, pulling Matt closer to me by the loops on him jeans, his hips connecting with my own.

“Ok, weirdo we get it.” He shakes his head, a smile plastered on his face. “Why don’t we go back to the bathroom?” I asked, a faux frown plastered on my face as I tugged him impossibly closer. Our bodies pressed together.

He hummed in response before gesturing to our friends back on the couch. “They might think we’re ditching them.” He breathed out, his hands running along my hips.

“I’m okay with that.” I shrugged, a smile taking over my face as my gaze remained on Matt. He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. “Wait until I can treat you right on a real bed, make it worth your while.” He joked.

“I enjoyed it.”

“I did too.” He assured, nodding gently. “But it’s too risky to go back.” He spoke with a raised brow. It was true, it was definitely risky, but it was also so worth it.

Another sigh escaped my lips as I let go off his denim loops, wrapping my arms around my chest. He returned the sigh.

“Hey.” He breathed out, taking my hand off of my chest and interlocking them. “Don’t be mad at me.” He spoke, raising his eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes, starting to speak again before hearing a crash in the living room behind us. I furrowed my eyebrows, letting go of Matt’s hand as I walked from the kitchen towards the noise.

My eyes widened as I saw Bryce on the floor, the familiar boy Josh on top of him, continuing to swing punches like that was all he could do. Matt stood next to me, a heavy breath leaving his lips before rushing forward.

Bryce Reyes was Nicks boyfriend. They’d been together for exactly three months now, and he was one of the best and only additions to our group in a long time.

Always a light to our constant chaotic mess of a group, his smile providing a sense of calm to everyone, especially to Nick. It’s why we all like him so much, anyone Nick likes we like.

Natalie stood from the couch, drunken words leaving her slips as everyone watched the scene unfold in front of them.

“You like fucking boys?” Josh asked before his fists collided with his cheekbone again. The blood on his face was getting more visible by the minute, a panicked Nick stood in the corner of the room. The party went silent.

“Enough—” Matt yelled, placing his hands on Josh’s shoulders, attempting to pull him off of Bryce before he himself was pushed back. My heart raced in my chest.

Matt stood from the ground, frustration on his features as he tried to breakup the fight once more, but nobody paid any attention to him, still focused on the terrifying scene unraveling.

“You’re pathetic.” Josh scoffed, his hands tightening around the collar of Bryce’s shirt, pulling him from the ground.

“He said enough!” Jackson spoke, successfully pulling Josh off of Bryce who laid against the carpet with more than just a bloody nose. His hair was a mess, his eye was already bruising, and he looked like he had been found at the scene of a crime.

His actions were successful, Josh standing up before wiping his own bloody nose, a slight smirk pulling his the side of his mouth. Nick rushed toward Bryce’s side as the party slowly started to resume once again.

I glanced toward my side, a purely pissed off Matt standing with his jaw clenched. It was obvious why he was upset. No one listened to him. He shook his head before turning on his heel.

“Matt, where are you going?” I frowned, taking a step forward but he had already rushed toward the doors of the party. There was no point to try and run after him, he would push me away like he had been recently.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. I needed to let Matt cool off, and I was fine doing that as long as I knew he was safe.

“Don’t stress.” Chris spoke, walking beside me as he held an empty bottle of vodka, clearly starting to cleanup the mess. “He always comes back.” He shrugged before walking past me.

Chris was my bestfriend, practically my closest, and I loved him. But sometimes I wish he paid more attention to his brother.

It hurt me to see him hurt.

My arms slumped against the wooden desk as I groaned lightly, the slight hangover behind my head. The fluorescent lights of the classroom hadn’t been helping either.

I had returned back to my dorm soon after. I hadn’t heard from Matt since, so seeing him for the first time in class was making me more nervous than I should.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was mad at me for not running after him— I was just trying to help. But then again that’s usually where I seem to go wrong.

The only thing I did know was that Natalie hadn’t returned last night. My only assumption could be that she snuck off with Jackson after the party, and she was still intertwined against his body popping a bottle of pain killers or whatever else it is she does.

They had gotten back together one month ago after their two week separation period. The last time I had seen her she was drooling over him with a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Have you seen Natalie?” I asked Chris, furrowing my eyebrows with a soft sigh as I glanced around the room. There was still no trace of her, and the silence filling the air could prove it.

The early mornings of Professor Collin’s American history course were usually filled with recent gossip, and constant giggling.

Today it was silent.

And it was suffocating.

Chris shook his head with a soft shrug before taking his notebook from his bag, turning the pages as the desk beside me soon became occupied. I looked over to see Matt with an undeniable smile crossing over my face as he turned to me.

“You ok?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. He nodded quickly, returning the smile before taking his supplies out as well. I didn’t question him, instead nodding before our professor walked in, his eyes instantly finding mine.

He gave me the usual flustered smile before walking to his desk, turning the projector and preparing for the lecture.

I didn’t mind history, I actually enjoyed it. Though sometimes it got frustrating when my professor couldn’t find the right words to express how well I did on my recent assignment.

The class went by slow. Two hours of endless notes and timelines that I wouldn’t remember by the next day.

“One last question to wrap this up.” Professor Collin’s spoke, an amused smile on his face before his eyes turned to me. “You can answer, right?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

I furrowed my eyebrow, sighing gently before looking down at my half assed noted. Instead of denying I simply nodded.

“Great!” He exclaimed, walking over toward me as his arms crossed over his chest. “During which war was a Christmas Truce called?” He asked. I took a deep breath, glancing down to my notes before scrunching my face in confusion.

“We didn’t learn that.” I shook my head. He nodded slowly before walking away from my desk. “We didn’t, but we did in my other history class. Which I think you would be interested in.” He spoke again. I sighed.

“I don’t have the time.” I replied, nodding slowly as I tried to change the conversation. The last thing I needed after last night was even more rumors circulating.

Especially when my boyfriend is beside me.

The professor frowned gently, clearly causing a scene in front of the entire class “Come on, you can’t drop one class— for me?” He asked. My eyes widened in embarrassment.

I didn’t respond, instead shaking my head as I swallowed my nerves. I could feel Matt’s eyes against my head like lasers.

“That’s ok.” He sighed again, before turning to the clock on the wall. “Class is over anyway.” He mumbled before sitting in his desk once more. I let out a breath of relief before standing up, sliding my books into my bag as quickly as possible before turning through the door.

My book bag was tightly pressed against my shoulders as I walked along the sidewalk of our campus. My eyes people watched with every step I took back to my dorm.

One of my favorite parts about our University was the variety of people that attended. Endless opportunities to make new friends, but for some reason I’ve had the same ones for years.

“Wait up!” A familiar voice called from behind me. I quickly turned around, my expression relaxing once I saw it was only Matt. He gave me a soft smile before running toward me, placing a soft kiss on my forehead before walking beside me.

“Let’s do something later.” He suggested as he interlaced our hands together. I liked when he didn’t mention the obvious.

“I can’t, I have to study.” I spoke with a soft sigh, frowning gently as he swung our arms back and forth. He chuckled lightly. “You’d rather study than see me?” He asked.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. He was so stubborn sometimes. So prone to take everything out of context just to get a kick out of me.

“That isn’t what I said.” I replied as we continued to walk throughout the campus. He shrugged, our arms still swinging in the air. “Then have me over. I’ll help you study.” He spoke.

Another sigh escaped my lips. I wanted to see Matt, I really did, but Natalie would be back at some point tonight.

I also really did have to study.

There wasn’t a response from me, instead simple silence as we approached the building. I turned to him with a raised brow, an amused smirk creeping on his face. “So it’s a yes?”

“Fine.” I sighed, rolling my eyes as he smiled down at me. It was so hard to say no to someone with a smile like that.

“You know I love you, right?” Matt asked, playing with the lace fabric of my shirt as I read the book in front of me. Our bodies were intertwined as my back rested against his chest.

I furrowed my eyebrows before nodding, placing my bookmark in between the pages before closing my book. I turned around so I was facing him, my legs over his.

“I know.” I smiled gently, scanning his face with a worried expression. “Why?” I asked, the obvious confusion present in my time. He didn’t reply instead his cheeks filling red before he pulled me closer to him by my waist.

He brought his lips against mine, his hands moving up my sides. I almost melted into his touch instantly, but I wanted an answer.

I pulled away from him, a frown replacing his one blushed expression. “What?” He mumbled, sliding his hand under my shirt gently, letting it rest against the fabric of my jeans.

“Why’d you say that?” I asked, raising my eyebrow as I looked down at him. He shrugged before laughing lightly. “I just wanted to remind you.” He nodded. My eyebrows furrowed.

For whatever reason it felt as though he cut off his own thoughts, but our dynamic worked because I don’t pry, so I’m not going to start now.

He leans in once more, presumably to stop me from asking more questions, but it was easy to get distracted when kissing him.

My hands make their way to his hair, scratching slightly on the back of his head in the way i know always makes him shiver.

Unfortunately, being the boy that he is, he takes this as a sign to begin lifting up my shirt, pulling the fabric up on my back exposing the back of my bra.

“Ok lover boy.” I pull back out of the kiss. “As much as I’d love to continue this I do have to study and you are meant to help me.” I sighed, placing a finger on his chest as I’ve fully leaned away.

He lets out an overdramatic sigh, faking a frown as I pull myself off of him. “If I fail this lit course it will be your fault.” I say, refocusing my attention on the numerous notes displayed in front of me.

“Yeah yeah I get it. Be studious.” Matt sits up, leaning against me as I sort through all the papers that remain unorganized. “What’s this test worth again?” He asks as, resting his chin on my shoulder, his breath on my neck causing a slight chill down my spine.

“It’s like fifteen percent I think but—” I get cut off by the sound of my phone ringing, my mom’s profile picture lighting up the screen.

My relationship with my parents was complicated. I was raised by two workaholics who would rather solve numerous crimes than drive their daughter to her first ballet recital.

I respect it, obviously, but Chicago will always have crime. They do great things and they help people, I just wish it didn’t come at the expense of my childhood.

The phone doesn’t ring for long when I finally pick it up, a smile on my face. “Hey mom what’s up?” I asked, looking at Matt who has a stupid innocent smirk on his face.

As embarrassing as it might be to admit, I was excited my mom was calling me because at least, even if she was out at work, she was still talking to me. I loved talking to my mom—when she wasn’t swamped with cases that is.

“Char sweetie, It’s about Natalie.” She spoke with a tone that terrifies me, one that’s both serious yet cautious—something I wasn’t expecting when answering.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” My eyebrows furrowed, I’m sure Natalie’s fine, she always is. I would place money on her being at Jackson’s place right now with a killer hangover and a dead phone.

“Are you alone right now?” My mom finally asked, causing a sense of worry to course through my stomach. My face must show how i’m feeling because Matt adapts the same expression, one of worry.

“I’m uh, I’m with Matt right now. Are you sure everything’s okay?” I asked, worry fueling my voice as I await a respond.

“Natalie was murdered.”

You know when people say that certain phrases or experiences can freeze time? This was mine.

The rest of the call was a blur, my mom telling me to seek comfort in Matt because she’s swamped with this case, but really I just wanted to hug her, I wanted to hug my mom and have her tell me everything’s okay.

Death is weird. One second, someone’s there. Annoying or not they are there and that feels constant—until it isn’t.

I could find Natalie annoying all I want, and I could continue to be upset over a dumb rumor, but she was family to me, possibly the closest I ever had.

When I hang up the phone I freeze, eyes situated on the sight ahead of me as my brain tries to process this, tears traveling down my cheeks before I can fully comprehend this situation at hand.

Matt gently places his hand on my upper back and the contact was enough to send me over the edge, the build up in my stomach releasing and sobs exiting my mouth. “It’s okay baby It’s okay.”

He doesn’t even know why I’m crying, I doubt he heard the phone but he’s still here for me regardless. “She’s gone Matt, they said she was—” I choke, trying to gain composure for the boy. “She was murdered.”

I’m simply a mess, my stomach hurts from the muscles tensing at each sob I let out. Matt’s hand just rubs soft strokes on my back as my head falls into his lap.

She’s gone and the last thing I did was bitch her out. I can’t get that night back.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: sincerely, sienna and grace

taglist: @lovingmattysposts @sturniolho @greatooglymooglyyy @fake-sturniolos @mayhem-72 @luv4kozume @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosbxtch @wurlibydominicfike @bernardsbendystraws @txssvx @thecynthh @biimpanicking @junnniiieee07 @stazsi @mazzystar111 @gnxosblog @imwetforyourmom @stonermattsgf @paibey @lovelottos @creamoncreamoncream2 @m4ttschewtoy @sturnioloslife @bitchydragonparadise @anlqq @y0urm4m @bernardenjoyer @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @cherrypostsposts @thenickgirl

#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader

377 notes · View notes

citrusandcyanide · 8 months

Text

Can't Lose You | L.G.

Part 2

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!Reader

an. Okay this part is a lot shorter than I expected just cause I think it was a good place to end the scene. I got more coming, but this had to stand on its own. I forgot to mention in the last part that I changed Lips college to UChicago instead of Chicago Polytechnic. Also Thank you for the kind messages and reblogs!!! They really motivate me to write and put out chapters quicker. Thank you for the love <3333

Synopsis. Lip doesn't want to go to college unlike his best friend who has her mind set on leaving Chicago and her feelings for Lip behind. Lip won't let her leave so easily.

words. 1.2k

Warnings. Drinking. angst, swearing. idk clutch your pearls.

Part 1 Part 3 (Final)

“Berkeley…” Lip said as he held the acceptance letter in his hand. “California.”

“Cali-fucking-fornia,” You said with a grin, giggling a bit from the beers. You had gone through more than a few. You were tipping over the edge of tipsy. Lip was going at a much slower pace. You were laying down on his bed while he was sitting on the edge of it. His eyes kept scanning over the paper. His expression was bare. You were too gone to care what he was thinking. “I fucking did it. I’m fucking out of here. All that work, fuck… I was hoping it would do something but I didn’t think it would.I got in. to BERKELEY. THE UC BERKELEY.”

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Lip applauded, but his voice didn’t show any enthusiasm . You stood up to grab the letter from him. Only then did you notice his clenched jaw and dissociated expression. You stared at him until he looked over. He straightened his back and handed you the letter. “I’m sorry it’s just far.”

“Yeah that’s the point: Far. Away. Not here,” You replied, rolling your eyes. You knew he would do this, but you thought he would at least try and pretend to be happy for you. This was all you had been wanting, a life outside of Chicago. But he couldn’t bring himself to entertain the idea for a moment. He wasn’t going to let you leave easy.

“What about the, uh–what’s it called? The institute. ISA something,” Lip asked. You interrupted him briefly to correct him before he continued. “That’s a perfectly good option.”

“Why? I told you I don’t want to stay here,” You sighed and fixed your position on the bed so you were fully facing him.

“Yeah but is it really that bad here? It’s not sunshine and rainbows but it’s fine. It’s not like Berkeley is gonna be any different,” He said, looking at you fully. There was something behind his eyes you couldn’t quite place. Like a part of him was offended you wanted to leave. You didn’t like it.

“There isn’t anything left for me here.” The excitement left your voice. You stated it plainly. It was a fact. There wasn’t. Lip wasn’t yours. Lip had never been and never would be. You had no other attachment to Chicago than him. You waited long enough for something that wouldn’t happen. Lip scoffed.

“We’re here. Our friendship, us,” Lip said, pain evident in his voice. He was taking it personally that you were ignoring the fact he was here. He didn’t realize he was exactly the reason you needed to leave. “Is it selfish of me to say that I don’t want you to leave me behind?”

“You have your own ticket out. You are personally capable of leaving on your own,” You quickly replied. It hurt you having to justify your reason for leaving to your best friend when he’s known how important it’s meant for you this whole time. He couldn’t be happy for you for a moment without thinking of what it meant for himself and his life.

“I’m not going to fucking Boston,” He replied offended, shaking his head in disgust.

“There’s nothing keeping you here. That’s your choice,” You argued back. You weren’t going to let him paint himself out to be the victim. He had equal the chance to leave Chicago behind and start something good for himself. You wanted that for him. You desperately wanted to see him succeed and find happiness outside of what your current life had to offer. He just couldnt see the same for you.

“You’re keeping me here. We– Us,” Lip turned fully to face you. His eyes pierced deep into yours. It didn’t sound like an excuse. He said it and you could tell he actually believed it. It was the first time in years that he was admitting that a part of him needs you in his life. He cared about having you with him. He cared that you grew up together. That you were his other half, but it was delusional to believe the two of you hadn’t been growing apart. And whatever this is was a plea to hold on to what was left.

“Stop repeating that as if it was a thing. There hasn’t been an us in years,” Your voice was stern.

“But there can be. Me at UChicago, you at SAIC. a few miles away from eachother,” Lip put a hand on your knee. “I haven’t been fair to you or your feelings and I know what I said before but not having you here is so much worse—”

“Don’t bring my feelings into this.�� You winced. You shut your eyes in an attempt to control your emotions.

“It’s not just yours,” He argued.

“Stop.” You kept your eyes closed.

“They’re mine too.” You felt the bed move under you as he inched closer to where you were sitting.

“Stop.”

“I love you–” You cut him off before he could finish.

“Don’t say that. You don’t want me. I know how this will go,” You said opening your eyes. The alcohol had made you dizzy but your head was as clear as day. You’re heart was pulling you towards him and it made you angry. “ You’ll keep me here and play with someone else’s heart instead cause you think it’s kinder than to do it to me, but you are playing with my heart. All of this is hurting me. You’re hurting me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He reached his hand out towards you. You quickly pulled it away.

“You can’t help it,” You spat back. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as your rage began bubbling instead you.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He shook his head and tried to reach for your hand again. You held your own close to your chest. Clenching your shirt over your pounding heart.

“You don’t love me.” With each of his words you felt your walls being chipped away.

“I do,” His voice sounded like he was pleading.

“You don’t want me.” You were convincing yourself, not Lip. He was your weakness. He always was.

“Y/n, if you stay I’m yours.”

The world stopped. As you looked at the boy in front of you, your walls broke. He won. Lip gets what he wants and he wants you to stay. To give up the dream you had been working so hard for and you were about to. He was offering you another dream.

“Let me be yours… please,” He pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. Your hand fell into his. He gently pulled you forward to him, closer and closer until your noses touched. You closed your eyes. His lips touched yours. How could you ever say no to Lip Gallagher?

~~~~

an. poor Mandy lol

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher angst #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #shameless #shameless x reader #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white x reader

373 notes · View notes

reminiscingtonight · 2 years

Text

Stolen Moments

Sofia Huerta x Reader

Word Count: 904

The environment at Wembley is wild. The last time you stepped foot in here, you watched as some of your best friends brought home the trophy. You’ve been playing at Arsenal for the past five years, and while it’s been a good five years, you can’t help but still miss your life back in the state.

And that may be largely in part due to the woman currently warming up on the field.

“Stop drooling.”

“I’m not!”

Leah reaches for your face, swiping at the corner of your lips. She pretends to look down at her fingers. “Pretty sure that’s drool.”

You shove her back, Leah shooting out a complaint as she tries to find balance.

“Hey! You can’t attack someone on crutches!”

You roll your eyes, quickly turning your gaze back towards the field. Although you refuted Leah’s claim, you can’t deny that Sofia looks good. It’s been a while since the two of you were last in the same place for this long.

After spending the first couple years post college playing in the NWSL, when you got the offer to play at Arsenal, you couldn’t help but take it. Sofia was understandably upset that you were going to be on the other side of the world, but she made sure to drive you to the airport from your shared apartment in Chicago. You parted ways with a sweet kiss and a promise to return home some day.

‘Some day’ still hasn’t arrived yet, but the two of you make sure to spend every break bouncing back and forth between wherever the defender is playing and your place in London. And while the two of you were silently hoping for another chance to share the field together, the two of you are happy where you are with the teams you’re playing with.

Finally dragging your eyes away from the field, you poke Leah’s shoulder. “Hey, cappy.”

She sighs, giving you a wary look. “What do you want?”

You smirk, internally gleeful at annoying your Arsenal teammate. “Are you ready to see your team eat dust?”

“Spoken like a true American. Can’t wait for you to eat your words.”

Before you have a chance to defend yourself, the English captain’s shushing you, pointing to where the teams are lining up for the national anthems.

When the whistle sounds, you and Leah grin at each other. Game on.

---

Leah makes sure to rub the win in your face.

You scowl, vehemently defending the 2-2 scoreline, but she simply laughs in response.

The two of you slowly make your way to the field, bickering all the way down. Although you are eager to see your girlfriend, you slow your pace to match Leah’s. She was already annoyed at needing crutches and you didn't want to further aggravate her by leaving her behind.

It doesn’t take you too long to locate Sofia. After saying a quick hello to some of your friends, you cut through the field towards the defender.

Although she looks tired, her entire body lights up at the sight of you.

“Hey babe.”

Sofia reaches her hands out for you and buries her face in your neck. Your arms instinctively wrap themselves around her waist.

“I missed you.”

You chuckle, tightening your arms. “I just saw you yesterday.”

After her last regular season game, Sofia caught the first flight out to London. You’ve spent nearly every day since trying to squeeze time for each other between your practices.

“Still missed you anyways.”

You press a light kiss against her forehead, relishing in the feel of having your lover in your arms again.

Sometimes long distance is a hard thing to do. The eight hour time difference made it hard to be on top of things, but you loved the girl in your arms with all your heart and were willing to do whatever it takes.

“You looked great out there today.”

The brunette grunts in disagreement, tightening her arms around your neck. “You’re only saying that because you’re dating me.”

“I’m saying that and I’m dating you. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

Sofia turns her face so she can eye you. You grin at her. “There she is. I was wondering if I was going to have a whole conversation with the top of your head.”

Rolling her eyes, Sofia leans back far enough so she can press a light kiss to your lips, making sure to keep her arms around you the entire time.

“Hi.”

“Hi back,” you parrot, a goofy look overtaking your face. Sofia always managed to make you a happier version of yourself.

“I know I’ve said this before but damn, that connection you and Rose have on the field? Amazing. I wish I could be a part of that.”

“You just have to come home to play with us then, I guess.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you as she tries to get you to break.

“You might have to fight Jonas to get him to let me go.”

Without missing a beat, she fires back. “Sure, where’s he at?”

“Sofia,” you chuckle.

The two of you unwrap yourselves from each other but make sure to keep your hands intertwined.

“Soon,” you promise. “I’ll be home soon.”

Someday you’ll be back in the states. Someday you’ll finally be able to be together.

But for now, these stolen moments taken between games would have to do.

#sofia huerta x reader #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

292 notes · View notes

lexosaurus · 5 months

Text

Twelve Hours: Chapter 5

Part 5 of 5 of my fic for Ecto Implosion, the DP reverse mini-bang (artists go first, writers go second)

This chapter is accompanied by art from @tytach AND IT'S SO SO COOL literally screaming crying throwing up I love GIW art so much. Do yourself a solid and check it out!

read on: [ao3]

[see all chapters]

Characters: Danny Fenton, Harriet Chin, GIW Tags: Identity Reveal, Flashbacks, Runaway Danny Fenton, Angst Chapter WC: 4453 Summary: When the GIW revealed Danny to the world, the only thing he could do was run. Run and run and run until he escaped to Chicago, trying desperately to disappear. Too bad it didn’t work.

****

“The day of your arrest, you’d been on the run,” Harriet Chin stated.

“I had,” Danny responded. Even though it’d been years, talking about the actual captivity—or as they’d put it in legal terms, arrest—still made his heart stutter.

Well, most things still made his heart rate pick up.

“They found you in Chicago,” Harriet continued. “And they arrested you at approximately two in the morning in Albany Park. Reports say you’d been in the city all day. First, I just need to ask, why? Why go to Chicago of all places?”

Danny steeled himself. He’d been expecting this. “I thought I could blend in there. I figured there were so many people in the city that everyone would look past another homeless kid. Obviously, that didn’t work. People recognized me.”

“What happened during the arrest? I think most people would have expected you to turn invisible and fly away, but that didn’t happen.”

“It’s not that easy with the Ghost Investigation Ward. Their glasses can see through invisibility, and they had me surrounded.” Danny pressed his lips together, fighting the imagery of him diving into his only chance of escape. It hadn’t worked. “It was futile, anyway.”

Harriet leaned back, a slight awe seeping into her tone as she said, “Three years, huh? That’s a long time.”

It had been. Oh god, it had been an agonizing time. And it probably would have gone on longer if not for Vlad’s incredible legal team.

Of course, that didn’t make Vlad suddenly his best friend. The asshole only really did it to try to make Maddie fall in love with him, that bastard. Well, that and the underlying terror of the government figuring out how to create a halfa, which would have been disastrous.

Thankfully, Danny managed to avoid both potential outcomes there. He’d gotten out, spent a year in and out of surgery, rehab, and PT, and then tried his best to restart his life. He got his GED, signed up for some community college courses, attained an associate degree, then transferred and finished his bachelor's.

It hadn’t been easy or smooth. In between associate and undergraduate degrees, he’d suffered a breakdown and had to take a gap year…or two. Then, after he finished his undergraduate, the soul-crushing reality that he was Danny Phantom and also job hunting so he could move out and really start his life hit him again, and he faltered.

But somehow, he made it. He was still figuring it out, but he was here. Alive.

“I survived,” he decided, setting his jaw.

****

01:00:00

Danny had no idea where he was anymore. He’d run till he found a train stop, then he took that further into the city and switched once. He’d gotten off and walked around—invisibly—his heart pounding in his chest the whole time because even a meager amount of invisibility was enough to ping any agent nearby of his ectosignature. Thankfully, there were no GIW sirens, no white fans, no tall men in white suits ambushing him from the street corners or jumping at him from the alleyways.

Still, just to be extra safe, he got back on the train and rode it for another hour till he’d reached a residential neighborhood, peering out the window before he got off the train to check and double-check for any sign that the Guys in White were waiting for him.

But there was nothing. He was safe. At least, for now, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. But when he glanced over his shoulder again and again, he saw no one behind him.

It seemed like the three thugs hadn’t followed the instructions from those horrific billboard signs watching block, they hadn’t dialed 449 to contact the emergency ghost-sighting number, they hadn’t tattled that Danny Fenton Phantom himself was in front of their home, that they’d nearly kicked the shit out of him.

Which, ouch. He touched his cheek, hissing as it whined in return. It was likely thanks to his frayed nerves, growling stomach, and lack of sleep that allowed the bruises to blossom on his skin instead of dwindling to nothing like they typically would with his advanced healing.

By morning, they would probably be gone. So long as he survived the night first, that was.

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops,” a voice behind him growled.

Danny whipped around, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. He nearly forgot to double-check that his hood was tugged safely over his head.

Peering out of a house window was a pudgy, balding man in a wifebeater. His raised eyebrows created rivets in his shiny scalp. He looked to Danny not with recognition, but aggravation, as if Danny were a cockroach trying to sneak into his pantry.

Some strange, queasy filling filled Danny’s stomach. He almost preferred the fear people gave him when they recognized his ghost form to whatever this was.

A raindrop hit his eye, and he cursed, reeling back to wipe his face. “Sorry,” Danny said, glancing around. He was safe from the storm under this banister, but outside it was pouring. “I’m just trying to figure out where to go.”

“You’ve been here for a half fucking hour. Either go home or find a fucking shelter.”

Danny’s silence must have spoken for him.

“Or, don’t,” the man huffed. “I don’t give a shit, just get the fuck off my fucking porch!”

Danny felt like he’d been punched in the face all over again, but he tried to let it go. He tried to not let his head hang so far down as he stepped into the cosmos of rain, which didn’t hesitate to cling onto his hoodie, seeping through the fibers until water kissed his skin.

If the rain’s gentle touch was supposed to be a comfort, it failed miserably. Instead, Danny’s throat tightened, and he failed to block out the gruff, “See? Was that so fucking hard?” from behind him as he made his way to the sidewalk.

Despite his cold core, he shivered. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he was going to be soaked to the bone, and then he would have to have to sleep like that.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he pressed into the night. He had no idea what time it was, but it was late. Most of the city had long since gone to sleep, and yet here he was, still awake, shuffling down the road while water squelched into his converse.

Hairs prickled the back of his neck. He glanced behind him, but no one was there. Not even the man in the window.

He was just being paranoid. That was all.

He walked down the road and passed a half-decrepit brick wall with the GIW logo spray painted on in green. Under it was the DP logo, which someone else embellished with red devil horns.

Don’t look, don’t look…

His bangs were sticking to his forehead now. He could just turn intangible, but if anyone saw him turn transparent, then they’d definitely report him for being a ghost, if not the Phantom.

He would just have to be wet until the air decided he could begin to dry, however long that took.

That ever-present lump in his throat grew like a tumor as he tried to ward away thoughts of his family who were probably home, maybe sleeping, maybe huddled in the living room with bleary eyes glued to the television as they waited to see any news about him.

But he’d made it this far, hadn’t he? Soon he’ll have survived the streets overnight on his own, soon he’ll become adept at blending into the city, and soon no one will give him a second glance. Especially not some busy-body white-suited government employee.

And then maybe his family could go to sleep.

The rain continued, unrelenting, but with his newfound determination, Danny refused to let it weigh him down. Even though his paranoia was telling him to panic, and nausea was at his throat, he wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t back down.

He would survive.

The houses blurred into each other, and every light out of the corner of his eye seemed to glow green. Every siren in the distance was the unmistakable chirp of the Guys in White vans, and every pattering on the pavement was a clicky black shoe. It was a hell loop that expanded with each step, burning into his eyes, ears, fingers, and core. But it was just his anxiety at play. It was nothing, Danny, it was nothing.

He was fine, of course. Soaked down to his intestines, but fine. And now, he stood below a street lamp facing a tan townhouse with an iron fence outlining its entrance. To its left was a larger, sleeping blue townhouse, and to its right was a short, red-bricked apartment with the anti-ecto billboard hovering over it.

Seriously, how much fucking money had the US Government wasted on advertising their stupid new GIW emergency number?

He turned around, choosing to walk across the street where another row of brick townhouses and apartments stood at his wake.

“Fuck you too,” he hissed, failing to resist tossing a middle finger up to the sign behind him.

As predicted, the sign had little to say in return. Though, perhaps smugly, Danny just pretended it was because he’d won. He’d found an alley, a place to call home—for now. And unless the stupid Guys in White had followed him here—which they hadn’t—then they had lost him. Officially. And Danny would lay low here until the world abated, and then…who knew. He’d figure it out.

He settled onto the wet pavement, not caring that his soaked shoe was edging on a puddle. The rain probably wouldn’t let up for hours anyway. He was just glad Tucker had thought to add that emergency waterproof bag in his backpack for his phone and charger.

If he peered out of the alley, he could still see that odious sign trying its best to get under his skin. He could see the way the sign’s Phantom glared down at passersby with contorted, grisly eyes that promised nothing but agony for anyone who happened to cross his path.

“That’s not true,” Danny whispered to himself, or the sign. “You’ll see. Someday.”

He dropped his head to his knees, fatigue hitting him like a cannonball. Someday…perhaps. But not today.

It was still raining.

****

Harriet leaned forward, the soft glow of the lights against her skin now matching her tone as she asked, “And the people who protested against your release? What would you say to them if they were here?”

“I don’t have anything to say to them. Not anymore,” Danny said truthfully.

“Why is that?” she pressed.

“Because,” he started, cocking his head. Then, his eyes flickered to hers, and he wondered if maybe the outer rings of his pupils were hinting at a green glow. “I don’t have anything to say to a person who thinks that because of who I am, what I am, I should be destined to a life as a science experiment, torn apart and put back together over and over, beaten to the point of collapse and punished for not standing back up. Someone who thinks that when my hands were bound behind my back and I was forced to eat off the floor, or when I was locked for days or weeks in a dark cell, chained to the wall with no one to talk to except myself, that I deserved all this just because some of my blood cells were replaced with ectoplasm. And if that sounds blunt, I don’t care. Anyone who thinks a teenager they’d never met should live that sort of life isn’t a person I wish to try to reason with.”

****

00:00:00

Whomp, whomp, whomp.

Something was beating overhead. A large…bird? Maybe?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t important.

Lethargy wrapped his consciousness back in its warm blanket again, shielding him from the pouring rain that had soaked through every molecule of his body, and his mind…went…

Whomp, whomp, whomp.

It was louder now. Closer. He peeked out from the mental box he’d locked himself into, cracking the lid just enough to notice that the whomp, whomp, whomp didn’t really sound like a bird. And wow, it was really close.

Was that…an issue? It was weird, wasn’t it?

He tried to separate what was normal from what wasn’t, but it was hard, and he was exhausted. Why was he so tired? And wait…why was he wet? Why wasn’t he home in his bed?

Maybe he’d just forgotten to change after patrol that night. Yeah, that had to be it.

But the—wow, that noise was pretty weird.

He craned his neck further out of the box, but his exhaustion protested. If he went much further, he’d never be able to go back to sleep. He was already beginning to notice the crick in his neck, the aching in his back, and the green tint of what was supposed to be only noir behind his eyelids…

Wait.

Green?

He mentally patted his core, but it was completely dormant.

Green…why was…

He wasn’t in his bedroom, was he?

No.

Green! His consciousness yelled, cleaving him from his little mental box. His core spiked, and he ripped his head from his arms to see green lights reflecting off every surface, strobing into the rainy night air.

Adrenaline impaled his pores and snapped him upright, his hands high and glowing before he even knew what to aim at.

The lights flashed more aggressively, and Danny’s heart plummeted. They had him surrounded. Whoever was here, they had him surrounded.

He could have screamed in frustration and sorrow for being so stupid as to get his hopes up that he wasn’t in the streets of Chicago, homeless because the government exposed him and was determined to hunt him down and turn him into their little plaything.

Fucking hell, fuck, it hurt so bad, so fucking bad. It was only a few moments where he believed with every fiber of his being that he was safe and home but he wasn’t and he might as well have let the GIW drive a pike through his heart.

“Freeze,” a deep voice said to his left.

He tried to look up, right, everywhere, everywhere. The helicopter lit a spotlight down on him, and he winced, shielding his sensitive eyes from the glaring supernova of bright, hot light spearing him.

He tried to step away, but the light followed him, and he realized with horror as he turned invisible that the light was still casting a shadow where he stood.

Fuck.

FUCK.

“Stand down!” the voice repeated, deep and throaty.

Operative O, Danny realized, and the shadow mimicked his movements as he backed away from the two prowling figures at the alley entrance.

Lights began flicking on in the surrounding houses, further lighting up the scene around him.

His invisibility flickered in and out. It was useless, either way. All the Operatives were wearing their sunglasses, and Danny knew the only reason they’d be wearing them at two in the morning was if they did more than just block the sunlight.

He turned, and more operatives with more glowing guns stood at the other end of the alley.

Above them, a glowing dome shot out of the helicopter, plunging into the pavement where Danny knew it connected.

Shit. He was trapped.

He dove into the building to his right, stumbling into a hallway with a woman in a bathrobe and a satin hair wrap frozen on the staircase before him. She screamed as if Danny had stabbed her, throwing her body into the wall. Her head hit a picture frame, and it fell, cracking against the wooden planks on the stairs.

“No, no!” Danny raised his arms in a plea, but they were still glowing, and the woman screamed further.

A man appeared at the top of the staircase, a gun in his hand. He didn’t hesitate, shooting Danny at once.

Although human bullets had little effect on an intangible body, he still cried out, “Stop!”

Bullets whizzed through his chest, shoulder, and stomach, and he flinched as holes indented the wall behind him. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Oh god, oh god!” the woman wailed. “HELP! HELP, GERALD!”

“GET OUT!” The man, presumably Gerald, bellowed, shooting Danny square in the face. “LEAVE MY WIFE ALONE!”

Danny’s vision blurred, and he stumbled as though he’d actually been shot, “Please, stop! I’m–they’re—”

“Danny Fenton Phantom, we have you surrounded. Please come outside with your hands in the air.”

The woman sank to the floor. “Don’t hurt me. Oh god, don’t hurt me.”

The man was out of bullets now, but he wasn’t finished. He tossed his gun to the side and rolled up his sleeves. Storming down the stairs with fists clenched, he hollered, “You don’t fucking touch my family, you zombie freak!”

Danny stumbled into their kitchen, and green lights flashed into their windows. He tried to put his hands down to steady himself, but his intangibility nearly sent his body careening through a stack of magazines sitting on the table. His hands were shaking—badly—and lightheadedness was encompassing all of his senses and skin with a relentlessness that would surely drive the strongest man insane.

This is it, he thought. Behind him, Gerald’s footsteps had reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Please, stop,” Danny croaked. Though, he had no idea who he was talking to. His hands flew up to his scalp, and he tried to right his head as his throat narrowed into a coffee straw. Before him, green light blinded his vision, pulsing off the beige wallpaper and setting fire to Danny’s entire life.

He felt the man’s fist sail through his head and hit the wall, and he heard the slew of curse words that followed.

“Face me like a man!” Gerald snapped.

“I can’t,” Danny whispered. “I can’t do it. I can’t win.”

“Come out with your hands in the air,” the voice outside repeated.

Danny walked through the man and faced the woman crumbled on the staircase, clutching the picture frame to her heart and weeping gut-wrenching sobs that stabbed through all the layers of panic and adrenaline until he too was crouching down in the hall with Gerald still hovering over him, his intangible hands gripping intangible strands of his hair as he fought the urge to throw up bile all over their weathered wooden hallway.

“Oh god, oh god!” the woman howled.

“I can’t win,” Danny repeated. If he dove underground, the helicopter would just pull him up. If he stayed here, the GIW agents and SWAT would just capture him. But if he went outside, he would be walking straight into the lion’s den.

There was no winning. No way of escape. They knew he was Phantom—they must have been following him—and Danny didn’t have to test it to know that the shield was keyed to his ectosignature, able to affect him no matter which form he took. He could feel it more clearly than any shield-static he’d experienced as a ghost.

He’d been so fucking arrogant before to think he’d escaped them. This was the government, and he was just a kid. Just a goddamn kid from Amity Park with two weird parents and a nerdy sister and oh god, he’d never see them again, and he never got to say goodbye.

Gerald’s footsteps disappeared in front of Danny, and he almost breathed relief before he blinked, realizing what the man was doing.

“No!” Danny yelled, jumping up and tripping over his feet. His intangibility slipped from his skin, and he crashed into a side table, knocking an urn to the floor. It shattered, permeating the floor in gray powder, and Danny reeled, colliding into the bullet-ridden drywall.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, stricken, then turned to face them but it was too late. Gerald was yanking his wife into the foyer and reaching for the door.

“NO!” Danny shot forward, his hand brushing the door handle simultaneously with Gerald. Danny turned them both intangible, and the woman slipped through her husband’s grip with a shriek.

“June!” Gerald cried out, reaching for an arm that was no longer there.

Danny let go, stepping back. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Gerald turned to him once more, his face setting in fierce determination. “June, get out! I’ll hold him off!”

“No, Gerald!” June scrambled upright.

“GO!” Gerald commanded.

Danny looked into June’s grief and terror-stricken eyes as she pleaded, “Please don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him, please.” And for the first time in his life, Danny felt like every bit the grotesque monster whose eyes bore down from the GIW billboards across every city in America.

He took a step back, and nausea crept further up his throat. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The green light pulsed brighter, faster. The helicopter’s whomp, whomp, whomp swelled to a deafening pressure. The orchestra of dozens of boots arranging themselves in position, sirens wailing in the distance, commanding voices from the street, and the click of the megaphone that Danny could no longer understand blended together until he was sure he couldn’t discern reality from the madness of his mind anymore.

“Please don’t open the door. I’ll die.” Danny’s voice crackled. With dawning horror, he realized this was his final attempt at survival.

“Go, June,” Gerald said, ignoring him.

“I’ll die. They’ll kill me.”

June sobbed, reaching for her husband instead.

He batted her hand away. “I said, go!”

“Please,” Danny begged, his voice weak, but it was useless. This random couple wasn’t listening to him.

They didn’t think he was human enough to deserve a voice in the first place.

June hesitated, her amber eyes crashing into Danny’s one last time before she finally reached for the door.

Danny didn’t stop her.

She slipped out as Gerald made one last valiant attempt at charging Danny, his voice hollering a war cry that echoed down the block.

But Danny stood still, only barely caring enough to turn his body intangible for the man to pass through him before returning to his solid form.

There was the sound of a door opening and closing behind him, and Danny vaguely registered that they must have had a backdoor entrance in their kitchen, but he didn’t move. He could have, probably. He could have stopped Gerald from unlocking the deadbolt and dragged him back into the foyer to use his body like a shield against the GIW agents.

But he could see the billboard taunting him through the open door high above the white vans, green sirens, and teams of men and women dressed in GIW white, SWAT black, and police blue. That damn billboard with those damn eyes that ridiculed him with the warbling, “Is this what you really are?”

A second later, men poured into the foyer to slam Danny to the ground. They turned him over and cuffed his hands behind him. Another set of hands snapped an inhibitor around his neck, there was a shout, and then all touch left his body just before his world was overtaken by electricity. Hot, blazing lightning traveled through his skin, arteries, into the tendrils that connected his core from his body, severing each thread one by one.

It was the portal all over again. Blinding, catastrophic, screaming in his mind before some part of Danny realized it was his voice, it was his screams of pain and torment ripping his lungs from his body and spilling them onto the aged floor.

Then, it stopped, and the only thing left was the smell of burnt hair and his wavering vision.

“Clear!” a man shouted, and hands grabbed him again, this time hauling him up and dragging him across the floor.

“No,” Danny wheezed, but no one heard him. They lugged him down the front steps where dozens of guns were waiting to welcome him.

Suddenly, a hand gripped his scalp, and Danny cried out as his head was forced upright. He blinked, and once his eyes focused, he wished they hadn’t because before him was a lording, square-shouldered figure clothed in white.

“Daniel Fenon Phantom,” Operative O began. “You are in violation of Article 1, Section 1, Sub-section A of the federal Anti-Ecto Control Act and are hereby under arrest. As you are not considered human by federal law, you are not protected under the Fifth Amendment. You do not have Miranda Rights, nor do you have the right to due process. Do I make myself clear?”

Danny didn’t respond, but it didn’t seem to matter. He wasn’t human, so the GIW didn’t need something as silly as his confirmation before they began towing him to a white van that seemed to glow brighter by the second.

“Don’t worry,” Operative O continued, his voice a hiss. “After the last few years of terror you’ve put this country under, I’m going to make sure our time together is special. And you, you, you…”

Operative O threw Danny onto the cushioned GIW van. A click of a button later, and the walls of the car and cage separating the back of the van from the front were lined in an excruciating green light. It sizzled, lapping at Danny’s skin and hair. He squirmed, and it seemed to chortle in response, whispering to not even try, there’s no escape, Danny, no escape at all.

Not that he had the energy to try. His limbs felt like lead, and his head pounded in his ears.

Operative O’s hands were back on him, forcing him upright while another operative strapped his body and legs into the seat.

This was it. He was going to die. Painfully, and slowly, but he was going to die. He would never see his family again. He would never hear Sam and Tucker bicker about food, he’d never laugh at Mr. Lancer trying his hand at teen slang, and he’d never feel the warm, and sometimes crushing embrace of his parents wrapping him in a hug.

He was going to die.

“Let’s see if your nervous system is really as human-like as the reports say. And if it is? Well.” Operative O chuckled, propping an arm over the door. “Well, you’ll be in for a world of pain.”

He shut the door, the bang rattling Danny’s skull. Outside of the van, inaudible chatter of the officers filled the neighborhood, but inside, only the static whispers of the ghost shield spoke to him.

It’s over, they reminded him. You lost.

The end.

****

Thanks for reading!

[read more of my stuff here]

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2023 #my writing #twelve hours #dp fanfic #angst #cw violence

23 notes · View notes

platonic-activity · 3 months

Text

Ignis Fatuus (Chapter 1)

Ignis Fatuus

Foolish Flame

Rating: PG, NC-17 in some chapters

Catagory: Novel, X-Files Fanfic, Diverging universe

Spoilers: Up to Amor Fati

Chapter 1

Scully stopped in a small town with a park by the same name given by her psychic witness. The park was closed. She sat in her car on the main drive wondering what the hell she was supposed to do next. Frustrated with her inability to channel Mulder’s intuition and feeling silly that until that moment she had believed that she might be able to. There was no one to be seen. The roads were dusty and the main highway was miles away. You could lift this town out of Illinois and drop it in the remote desert and it would feel exactly the same. She gave up her small town surveillance and went into the one open establishment on the street. A small cafe. Determined to wake herself up to drive the 2 hours back to Chicago and fly home to her healing partner.

“You don’t look like you are from around here.” the waitress said when she entered, taking in Scully’s trim black suit and styled hair. Scully uncharacteristically sat at the counter and responded in an open way that welcomed a conversation, explaining that she was passing through as a part of her job. She had driven hours out of the way. She might as well get one last feel for this place before leaving.

“Where are you passing through from?” The waitress asked. She had a book open when Scully had arrived that she was now stashing away. An anthropology text book. Where could she be taking a class in this tiny town?

“Washington DC.” Scully responded, pondering how she could avoid the whole I work at the FBI conversation.

“That’s far. Right? It seems far to me.” She asked as she grabbed two cups of coffee, handing one to Scully and drinking the other while leaning her hip against the counter. Casually open and willing to put her work on hold and connect with her one lonely customer. “I don’t think I have ever been there. Not that I can remember at least.”

Scully felt an almost immediate kinship with this woman who appeared to be about her same age. She was chatty, asking Scully questions. Did she like to travel for work? What kind of job brings you all the way from DC to a small town in Illinois? Scully dodged that as best as she could.

“What about you? Have you always lived here?” Scully asked, sipping her coffee companionably. Maybe she knew of a missing girl. Or maybe she had seen a quiet determined little girl with Melissa's face.

“Well, I am adopted. Scratch that. I survived foster care. But I have looked for my parents with every tool available in the state and I have had no luck. I don’t think I always lived here.”

“Do you have any suspicions? Do you remember living somewhere else?” Scully asked suddenly curious about this pretty but tired looking woman with her long wavy brown hair and dark circles under her eyes.

“That’s the thing. I don’t remember anything from before I was 10.” She paused and then rushed, “Don’t sympathize… it’s fine. It’s just a reality. I suppose many people don’t remember their childhoods but it bothers me a bit. There aren’t really any records of me before then either. No parents to remind me of things”

Scully sits rooted to her stool at the counter. Disbelief must be written all over her face.

Lost.

Scully is stricken, if for no other reason than that it is far from normal to not remember an entire childhood. She starts to pay closer attention. This woman is tall and slim. Her lean against her work surface brings her eye to eye with Scully at the counter. Her clothes are worn but stylish. They fit her well. Her lips are chapped but full and she wears no makeup. Her eyes are large and curious. She is stunningly beautiful.

Carefully Scully smiles and takes a drink of her coffee hoping to mask her astonishment. Her hands shake slightly as she sets her mug down.

The woman continues talking, unaware that the sky is falling down around the customer siting in front of her. “Anyway, the one thing I know is that I didn’t always live in Illinois. When I visited Lake Michigan we were all amazed at how big it was.” She is stacking dirty mugs into a dishwashing rack, barely acknowledging Scully, Like she would be talking even if she was alone. “One of my friends said that it must be like seeing the ocean, but I knew that it wasn’t. I knew that it smelled different. I don’t think people who have never seen the ocean know what it smells like.”

She is right, of course. It is the type of connection that she would miss and that Mulder would catch. She rebukes herself for her leap of logic and momentarily convinces herself that she is just finding similarities that are not there. Apophenia borne of the sudden rending of her heart, its secrets spilled out and known… of thinking about him constantly. He could read minds. Suddenly everything was possible.

“Could you have visited the ocean at some point?” Scully prods, hoping to keep her talking as long as possible.

The woman stands up straight suddenly wiping her hands on her dingy apron. She is at least 5 foot 8. “Just a visit?” She shakes her head no. “I think I lived by the ocean.” She sighed, “It’s just an intuition, you know? I guess I want it to be true. I have these flashes of giant whale bones behind a rope and it feels as though I knew them well. Like I had seen them many times and wanted to move on to something more interesting. I can’t imagine being bored seeing whale bones. It must have been a normal occurrence for me. I remember mostly small useless things like this.” She smiles wistfully, her roscoelite eyes slightly squinting and her lips drawing back as if she is holding back a bigger grin. Like she believes that what she is saying will be met with disbelief. It is a smile Scully has come to adore. She can’t help but hold the woman’s eyes in wonder.

Whale bones.

She casts her eyes around the small cafe, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know why I am telling you all of this! Slow day I guess.” She quickly turns back to the coffee machines and makes herself busy brewing more coffee than what would likely be needed in this empty corner cafe, in this one intersection town, at 3pm on a Wednesday. Her tank top strap fell off her sharp shoulder. Her hair needed to be brushed but somehow it was beautiful pulled back at the nape of her neck.

Scully takes the moment to center herself. Just breathe. She is certain her heart could be seen pounding inside her chest. She can’t let this moment pass. “Do you remember a giant model of a whale’s heart?” She asks with the schooled indifferent curiosity she would normally employ when talking to a suspect.

The woman turns, catching her eye. Her expression unreadable. Guarded. Scully pushes on, “I went to a whaling museum once and I remember standing next to a plastic whale’s heart that a child could climb into it was so large.”

The door chimes as another woman hurries in, a small child in tow. Her apron slung over her arm while she navigates wet hair into a sloppy ponytail. Eye contact reluctantly broken they both look towards this interloper. “I am so sorry to do this, I know you have a paper to write. Thanks for taking him tonight, Anna. Don’t worry about side work. I’ll do it.”

The woman, Scully now knew was named Anna, smiled and hugged her friend issuing a long string of reassurances that this was no problem. She whipped off her own apron and grabbed the sticky hand of what looked to be a 5 year old boy bundled up too much for the mild fall weather lifting him to sit on the counter next to her. She turned to Scully as she was gathering her things, a ratty backpack with some text books and donning her worn black hooded sweatshirt. “I remember crawling around in red tubes. I don’t know if it was supposed to be a heart.” She shrugged.

“The New Bedford Whaling Museum in Massachusetts. That’s where I saw the whale’s heart. Near a ferry terminal to Martha’s Vineyard.” Scully said, hoping Anna would stay and continue talking.

She just nodded, taking in the information and then, “Thanks for keeping me company.” With that smile again, “Good luck on your work trip.” and she was out the door leading her charge down the street and away from the cafe.

Scully feels a panic rise up in her. She can’t lose this woman, again. She feels foolish. She watches as the new waitress gets set up and reaches over the counter, grabs Anna’s abandoned coffee cup and stashes it under her coat, drops some cash on the counter and leaves the coffee shop in a rush. At the corner she pivots and looks down each of the streets. She sees no one. The buildings end in both directions after only one block and past it all she sees are corn fields.

Mount Carol, Illinois. Population 1,000 and potentially the home of one lost little girl, now a grown woman. She holds the mug like a lifeline as she gets into her rental car. What are the chances Samantha was lost to not only the Mulder family but everyone involved in her abduction? What are the chances that this cabal of powerful untouchable men could make such a huge mistake. What if she was always meant to be returned? Does anyone know that she is here? Safe? Loved by her friends, struggling to make rent and babysitting while trying to finish college at 36 years old?

This cannot be. Scully pulls her car out onto the main street, not at all certain of what she should do next.

#mulder #scully #xfiles #fanfic #the xfiles #Xfiles fanfic #Samantha #Samantha fic #I modeled Samantha after a specific person #Should I reveal who it is?#x files fanfic

8 notes · View notes

nyxknocks · 4 months

Text

So, Rashomon was not whatever I expected it to be. Though, I don't really know what my expectations were in the first place...

This style of story telling is always fun for me. It's very Clue-esque in the way you get everyone's side of the story and how it always favors themselves to look the best or the one with less blood on their hands. The characters are... interesting. I don't think a single one of them is good, but again that's the whole point, isn't it?

The line about how the demons there fled because of the ferocity of man pretty much tells you what this story is about. Humans at this point are all selfish, acting towards their own gains and for their own wants with little care for others (the assault, for one). Everyone makes a point to center themselves in the tragedy, that while yes this man did die, they are also a victim (and I mean yes she is there is absolutely no doubt of that) of other circumstances.

It feels like a nod to what we discussed about the shifting of blame. They are culpable to some extent to what happens (the assault, a murder, what have you) but it's not their fault, they were forced to. Just like how the government forced their hands during the war. But I hate linking everything around this time period and also from Japan as related to the war, because it feels reductive and small minded. But in the 50s its hard not to think of the impact the war hand, especially since Kurosawa had to deal with everything during the occupation.

Tajomaru had to assault her because she was beautiful, and then in his account he had to fight the samurai, he didn't want to kill him.

In the wife's account, she fainted after the samurai is freed, thus absolving her for whatever befell him, but she made a point to mention that even if she did kill him in her black out state (which she does not admit to) it was because he looked upon her so horribly after the assault. (Very Chicago).

The samurai's account is the most confusing, because it's told through a secondary source and also he is the one who died, so.

The woodcutter lied at the inquest or whatever because he didn't want to admit he saw the whole thing happen. Likely because he didn't want to get caught up in the blame game and also to hide the fact he stole from them. Again, selfish.

The ending can seem hopeful, with the priest saying the woodcutter restored his faith in humanity or whatever, and maybe I'm just jaded but if he lied once he can lie again. How do you know for sure he has 6 kids at home? You have no proof! You just gave this random dude you met in this husk of a building a baby you just found! Obviously it's meant to be taken well, because the literal imagery of the rain and clouds moving/stopping to let the sun in is like a ray of hope being cast on the people/story being shown. A bit of proof that humans aren't all inherently selfish and self-serving. Mildly hopeful, I guess?

I never realized the Rashomon effect was named after this and that's embarrassing. Like I said, it's one of my favorite styles of story telling because you can see things from so many different angles and still end up wondering just who is telling the truth. It really allows you to strap in and focus on the story because you become invested, trying to untie the narratives while also having your own thoughts/opinions reshaping it to fit your own narrative. It's really sneaky how it happens and its satisfying every time, because you never know, not really.

Also. Best part of the movie.

I also like how you can see the slide cut or whatever it was called. So Star Wars. The whole beginning gave me Twilight Zone deja vu. Genuinely love that aspect.

9 notes · View notes

nogitsunbae · 2 years

Text

Steve moved to California, after.

After Vecna was defeated, and Hawkins was safe, and everyone had moved on. Robin went to college out of state and he still heard from her, still saw her occasionally, she was still his best friend. Dustin and the party were old enough to drive, and of course he still saw them, but not as often. Nancy and Jonathan moved to Chicago. His parents hadn’t seen him in at least 6 months.

He didn’t really have an attachment to Indiana, anymore.

So he packed his bags. Had enough in his savings from his dad to start over. Drove west and with every passing state sign felt a bit of tension leave his shoulders.

Max never really talked about Billy, but when she did she always spoke about the freedom he craved in California, and Steve was starting to understand what the younger boy must have meant.

Too bad he had died before he reached that freedom.

And, Steve, well, he had liked Billy. In a way that had scared him all those years ago, but now he had accepted. Saw the wild, fierce, unobtainable boy and thought to himself “he is free.”

He was wrong in thinking that.

All these thoughts rushed through his head the closer he got to the golden state. And when he got there, and settled in, made sure to make his calls back to Hawkins to let everyone who cared know he was okay, needed a change of scenery, he started to think more about the dead boy with oceans for eyes and golden hair.

Started to see him.

He was in a small seaside town, mostly inhabited by surfers and locals who looked at his clothes and laughed, but every once and a while Steve would catch a glimpse of blonde hair, the glint of a golden necklace catching in the sun, blue eyes meeting him for just a second but not long enough for Steve to really look.

He knew Billy was dead. But he saw his ghost every time he visited the beach, every time he went to the store to grab some food, every time he took a walk down the street early in the morning.

He was going insane.

Finally, one of his coworkers (Steve could sling ice cream, back home, but here he found pizza and sharing a joint with his chill friend from work worked so much better for him) told him he looked awful. Take a day off. Hell, go learn to surf so you’ll actually fit in around here. He has a friend who gives lessons.

Argyle covered his shift and Steve went to the beach at 8 am, lugging around his new board and wondering what the hell he was doing with his life.

“Thought you’d never show up, pretty boy.”

Steve turned around, almost dropping the (expensive) surf board in the process. And there he was. The ghost of Billy Hargrove, hair grown out, long enough to brush his elbows, scars across his torso blooming like flowers, eyes as bright as the sky and as deep as the pacific.

“Billy?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

Steve’s mouth opened, then closed. And… then he smiled.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Yeah?”

“I saw the casket.”

“Wow, the old man even paid for a casket…” the blonde chuckled.

“I saw you die, Billy.”

“Did you?”

Steve shook his head, still smiling. Realizing all those letters addressed to Max that she insisted come to his house weren’t from Lucas or some other kid.

“How?”

“Let’s not dwell on the particulars, pretty boy,” and oh, that nickname ignited a part in Steve he had buried along with the empty casket belonging to Billy Hargrove. “You want to surf, or not?”

And when they finally made it to the ocean, past the breakers, for the first time in a long time, maybe even in his whole life, Steve felt free.

Free to surf, and swim, and splash water on Billy who just laughed and splashed him back, and Steve knew that they were both free, then. To have fun, to bask in each other’s presence, to be themselves unapologetically.

Maybe even free enough to fall in love.

#I’m listening to Santa Monica by everclear if you can’t tell #billy hargrove #harringrove #also I took some liberties w this bc argyle deserves to be buds w Billy sorry

141 notes · View notes

takearisk-x · 11 months

Note

If tpfy characters were from America, which state would represent them the best? For example, I see Hermione as a New Yorker, and I'm torn between Florida, Arizona, and Texas for Draco, Harry would be from California or Hawaii, Luna would be from Oregon, Pansy would be from Utah, Neville is from Washington, and I'm confused about the Weasley's... I want to say Texas, but they don't fit Texas. I don't really know much about Theo, so let's throw him into Alaska.

LOL this is the silliest thing we've ever done. i'm going to try and leave politics out of it as much as possible?

Harry: Colorado. laid back, a little bit of everything. it's got mountains, and farms, and desert. it's got big cities and small towns, which speaks to his adaptability and his overall lack of self sometimes. there's harsh landscape but made it's beautiful because of it's severity.

Ginny: Nevada. don't let the red rock mountains and the dessert fool you, this is a lush environment if you look beyond the surface which is a bit like ginny's front that she puts up for everyone else. at first glance she's vegas, but get to know her and she's the spring mountains. also wild horses live here

Hermione: I like New York for her! but a borough? maybe brooklyn? she's the lifetime new yorker who is a bit desensitized to all the batshit things going on in her own head. like the bodega rats and the guy dancing on the street corners to no music. that's just new york! she's got a crazy schedule, and she never sleeps, but that's only because there's so much that she needs to get DONE!

Draco: Connecticut. full stop. but like the blue blood, children of the revolution, ivy league legacy, kind of connecticut. He's got a yacht and a beach house and he actively talks shit about the families from Massachusetts who infiltrate the town in the summer time.

Ron: North Carolina. traditional with lots of history, but also up for anything. He can go big city without losing his rural roots. family is always a priority. the best fucking beaches around.

Padma: Virginia. actually a commonwealth, the state belongs to the people, not the state government (that's a very simplistic definition but this is a very silly game so i'm not getting into it) virginia is supposed to value democracy (their ideals) above all else. also richmond is a v cool town.

Neville: Nebraska. quiet and unassuming, minds his own business but sticks to his principles when it matters. hard working, and agriculture based, seems pretty boring until you get to know him and realize all that boring is actually *really* admirable.

Pansy: Illinois. the glitz and glam and cool factor of chicago is fun, but it's also a little morally bankrupt (lol). She's learning to appreciate the quiet, more steady parts of her.

Luna: I went back and forth on this one for a while, but i think you are right. i have to go with Oregon. Keep Portland Weird and all that. she definitely brings the special brownies to the potluck.

Theo: Montana. quiet and bit of a leave me the fuck alone attitude. appreciates solitary walks through the mountains. likes animals more than people. so sick of the grind. let him lay in a field of wildflowers and think about the universe for a few days.

i think the weasleys as a whole would be Iowa. hardworking, rural, they have enough money to get by, they're willing to try new things (like wind energy), they always try to stand up for what is right, but at the same time they value their tight knit communities.

and since i've now spent a full hour on this, i'm calling it done LOL

#THE PATH FROM YOU #??? what do i even tag this as #anon #answered

22 notes · View notes

multifandomrandomgirl · 11 months

Text

The Ropes that Bind Us -Peter Tork x female!reader PART EIGHT

Masterlist:

Taglist: @strawberry-sunset-skies

After a short car journey and an explanation from Davy as to why it took so long for him and Michael to rescue Y/N, they pulled up at the pad.

Peter hopped out of the vehicle in order to help Y/N out, she gratefully accepted his help, giving him a big smile as she got out. Y/N took in her surroundings, questions flooding her brain, however, the biggest question was:

“Wait, why is there a beach there? Where are we?” The four boys looked at her in confusion before Michael’s expression turned to one of sympathy and sadness for the girl who was most probably thousands of miles away from her home.

“Oh Y/N, we’re in Los Angeles.” Michael said sadly, Y/N’s face fell, and she glanced around again, staring at the sea, not knowing what emotions to feel.

“L.A? What the fuck? How’d he get me so far away? I’ve been in L.A for three fucking years? It’s not a wonder no one found me.” Y/N said, trying hard to mask the upset in her voice.

“Y/N, sweetie, where are you from?” Micky asked her gently before turning to Mike and giving him a ‘what the fuck do we do?’ look.

“Illinois. Fucking Chicago.” Y/N ran her hand through her hair, a tear slipped out of her eye and Peter pulled her into a tight hug, finally being able to comfort the girl. Micky shot Mike another look, none of The Monkees knew what to do. Y/N was 2000 miles from home. They didn’t know if she wanted to return to Chicago and try to locate any friends or family she may have left in the area.

“Y/N? I’m so sorry that you were forced this far from home. I don’t know what you want to do, but until you know, please stay with us. We’ll help you through anything and everything.” Michael took a step forward, placing a hand on her arm.

“Thank you Michael.” She whispered, Peter held onto her tighter, he wanted things to be right for her but he had no idea to make her feel better, he wasn’t expecting her to be from a whole different state. Peter wanted her to be safe and comfortable, and that’s what he planned on doing whilst she stayed with them, as well as making her feel like she was loved. He had no idea what her relatives were like back in Chicago but he wanted her to know that no matter what, people did care about her.

“Let’s get you inside, we really should clean your injuries, I don’t want them getting infected.” Peter guided her inside the house careful not to further hurt her. Mike smiled to himself, he knew that Peter really truly cared for the girl and he thought it was sweet how gentle he was being with her. The three remaining Monkees knew that no matter what, they’d help Peter protect Y/N no matter what.

Peter had drawn a bath for her a got her settled in there, giving her the things she needed to clean out her cuts and refresh herself, he then took it upon himself to find her some clothes, he found some clean underwear and a large t-shirt and made his way back to the bathroom.

“Y/N, is it okay if I come in? I have some clothes for you.” Peter asked, Y/N told him he could enter and so he did. He placed the clothes down on the lid of the toilet seat before crouching down next to the bath. He picked up a sponge, he looked for permission in her eyes, and it was granted. Peter began to gently wash Y/N, ensuring that all the dirt and fluff that was in her wounds were gone.

“Thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.” Y/N smiled up at him, taking the towel that he held out to her.

“It’s no problem! I’ll wait in the hallway for you! The shirt is mine, and the underwear is Davy’s as he has the smallest waist and so I figured that’d be best for you, they’re clean!” Peter hurried out of the bathroom, Y/N giggled, dried herself off and picked up what appeared to be teenager-sized underwear. Y/N slid the top over her head and hung the towel up on a rail attached to the wall. The top smelt like Peter which instantly made her feel safe.

Y/N left the bathroom, and just as promised, Peter stood waiting for her, he looked up and grinned at the sight of her. “Feel better?” He asked, she nodded in response. “So, you’re going to sleep in my bed, I’ll be on the sofa if you need anything, but Davy’s bed is in the same room as mine, so he’ll also be there.” Peter began to explain.

“Peter, don’t be ridiculous, you’re not sleeping on that sofa.” Y/N started.

“But-” Peter tried to interrupt but she wouldn’t let him speak.

“Peter, I was going to ask if maybe you’d sleep in the bed with me, please? I’m scared that Lord Reynolds is going to get me again, I know it’s ridiculous but-” Peter interrupted her this time.

“Of course Y/N, I want to keep you safe, I’ll protect you from him.” He took her hand and showed her to the bedroom, pulling back the duvet and letting her lay down before he clambered in behind her, pulling the duvet over the pair of them and wrapping his arms around her. The girl was out within seconds. “I’ll protect you from everything Y/N.” Peter murmured before falling asleep.

Davy entered the room an hour or so later to go to bed, he flipped the light on so he could find his pyjamas but caught sight of his bandmate and his new friend cuddled up, even in sleep, Peter’s face expressed the care he had for Y/N. Davy grinned stupidly before fetching Micky and Michael to look at them.

“Pete’s adorable, look at him. He’s so determined to protect her.” Micky smiled, tilting his head affectionately at the pair who looked more vulnerable than ever.

“And this, Lord Reynolds, is why we need Peter. He’s the most caring and sweet human ever.” Michael mumbled as he exited the room to go to his own bedroom, Micky in tow.

#micky dolenz #peter tork #davy jones #michael nesmith #the monkees #peter tork is so adorable omfg

3 notes · View notes

jjackle · 10 months

Text

To Love A Gallagher

Lip Gallagher x OC fanfic

PART ONE:

The choice to move to Chicago was an easy one to make. Sure, I'd still be poor as fuck; but atleast it's a change of scenery. A small chuff from my back seat takes me out of my thoughts. I put my hand blindly back there and pet one of my two dogs, their wet noses search my hand for treats. Only to stop when all they can find is the nicotine stains from my last cigarette.

The sight of a "South Dakota Welcomes You" sign as me drawing my hand back and placing it back on the wheel. I press harder on the gas, my old ass truck and trailer hauling my other car, complain the whole way. Only two more states to go. I smile, my uncle Kev is waiting for me.

BACK AT THE GALLAGHER HOUSE:

Kev burst through the door amidst the bussle and the chaos that is the Gallagher household.

"Hey!" He yells, grabbing everyone's attention. All six pairs of eyes snap up from the dinner table to look at him.

"Sorry to interrupt a rare family dinner, but I've got some news." He proclaims. "Is Vee pregnant?" Fiona asks, shock clearly written on her face. This takes him back a little bit.

"What? No! My niece is coming to stay with me and Vee. She'll be here around noon tomorrow. I wanted to let you all know, so you'll give her a warm Gallagher welcome. Also, we're having a block party tomorrow night. I've already told the neighborhood, bring booze." He states.

"Alright! Sounds like we're having a party!" Lip says, exchanging a look with Ian, a shiteating grin plastered on his face.

"I didn't know you had a niece, Kev." Fiona pipes up, the shock now replaced with confusion. "Well, she's not blood, but I still consider her my niece. She's the daughter of one of my best friends from high school. She's driving here all the way from Washington State." He explains.

"Washington State? That's a ways; why is she moving to this shithole?" Lip ask, now curious about Kev's mystery niece.

"She needed a change of scenery, so I offered her a place to stay." He explains. "Her name's Jessie, I think you'll all like her."

#Lip Gallagher #fanfic #oc rp

2 notes · View notes

harderrain-sweetersun · 1 year

Text

Blog Post 1: On Space Traders

I am not sure that anything could have prepared me for the far too realistic world portrayed in Derrick Bell’s Space Traders. The film depicts a universe in which the United States is approached by an alien nation who promises to solve all the environmental and economic crises that the nation is facing at one cost—the entirety of the Black population.

One phrase continuously rang through my mind as I watched this film—“America, even if you weren’t Black where you came from, you are here.” Throughout the film, multiple Black characters (Gleason Golightly, the religious leader, Gleason’s family) are shown to have conflicting viewpoints on the correct course of action to take. Regardless, all people seen as “Black” would end up being exiled to the alien nation. It did not matter that Gleason was a prominent member of the conservative cabinet. It did not matter that the Church he visited was filled with people who disagreed with his viewpoints and identity as a whole. To the alien nation, they were all Black. I find this to be an eerie reference to America itself. A country built on diversity—founded by immigrants—and yet we seem to have two races: White or Other. As a person of color who grew up in a White, conservative town, my ethnic origins did not matter beyond the color of my skin. It did not matter that my parents immigrated from different parts of India; that my mother, a practicing Catholic, went against cultural norms and married my atheistic Jainist father; that I was born in Chicago, Illinois and grew up doing the same things as my white peers, oblivious to the difference in our skin color until those differences were thrown back at me. Nothing mattered beyond the fact that my skin was dark, and everyone else’s was light. Similarly, the idea of “Blackness” is flawed. As referenced by Gleason’s struggle to unite Black folk from different walks of life during the five day decision period, there is no one Black community to unite. Angela Davis referenced this in her Meaning of Freedom lectures, where she spoke about “the fiction of Black unity.” Davis referenced how anyone in power can be conscripted into positions of violence against others—regardless of what minority group the person in power is a part of, and thus, there is no point in pretending that all Black people will agree on any given issue based solely on the color of their skin. In addition, Space Traders brought up an interesting critique of the disparities between rich and poor minority groups. When debating the consequences of exiling the Black population into outer space, a delegate brought up that poor White Americans would not like being the “bottom of the totem pole.” I found this to be an extremely interesting, though brief, statement. Michelle Alexander, in her The New Jim Crow, brought up the idea of a racial bribe: extending special privileges to a small fraction of a minority group to further divide them. Conservative politicians did exactly that through appealing to poor White voters by virtue of their skin color—thus turning them against the population that they had the most in common with (poor Black voters). This comment by the delegate in Space Traders references this racial bribe in that without a Black population to demonize, conservative politicians would have no way of appealing to poor white voters and convincing them to vote against their own best interests.

3 notes · View notes

suckitsurveys · 2 years

Text

Relationship Survey(s)

-How long have you been together? 11 years, married for 5. -Do you have any children together? Nope, we don’t want children. -What about pets? Yes, three kitties. -Did you go to the same school? Nope. -Are you from the same hometown? No.

-Who is the smartest? We are both smart in different ways. -Who is the most sensitive? Me. -Where is the first place you went to eat as a couple? Pizza hut lol. -Do you wear matching clothes? Not intentionally. -Where is the furthest you have traveled as a couple? Boston.

Who has the best group of friends? We have the same group for the most part. -Who has the craziest ex [s]? We both do, to different degrees. -Who has the worst temper? Neither of us really have a temper. He can get a little frustrated more easily though. -Who does the cooking? He does. -Who is more social? Me. -Who is the neat-freak? He likes things clean and I like things organized. -Who is the most affectionate? We’re both very affectionate with each other… hard to say who’s most affectionate. -Who is the most stubborn? Neither of us are super stubborn people, although we both still have our moments. -Who hogs the bed? Neither of us. -Who wakes up earlier? Usually me but he’s been getting up the same time I do lately. . -Where was your first date? He took me down these walking trails near his house and then we went to a bar to play pool. -Who said I Love You first? I don’t really remember because we were both saying it before we were dating lol. -How did you spend your 1st anniversary? Our first dating anniversary we went to a water park resort in the Dells. Our first wedding anniversary we went to the beach. -Do you give/get flowers often? Not really often, no. -How do you spend the holidays? Usually with my family, but we also go see his mom and brother and nephew. ————– How well do you know your significant other?? Be honest!!! ……..20 Q’s 1.They are watching TV….What are they watching? The Office, a Bulls game, UFC fights, Counterstrike tournaments, Breaking Bad. He also watching a TON of YouTube videos about different stuff. 2.You’re out to eat what kind of dressing do they get on their salad? Ranch. 3.What’s one food this person doesn’t like? Tomatoes. 4.You go out to the bar. He/she orders…… A beer or a rum and coke. 5.Where did he/she go to high school? The high school in his hometown. 6.What size shoe do they wear? 13. 7.If this person were to collect anything, it would be…… Computer parts. 8.What is their favorite type of sandwich? Italian. 9.This person could eat_____everyday. Crab legs. 10.Favorite cereal? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat cereal lol. 11.This person wouldn’t be caught dead wearing… Jorts hahah. 12.Favorite sports team? Chicago Bulls and Cubs. 13.Who will he/she vote for? Not a republican, that’s for sure. 14.What is their sign? Libra. 15.What is something you do that he/she wishes you didn’t? Talk negatively about my body. 16.How many states has this person lived in? Just Illinois. 17.What is he/she’s heritage? He’s Italian and German and like 12473294732984 other things. 18.You bake them a cake for their birthday. Okay? And? I guess you mean what kind? He’s not a cake person. 19.Does he/she have any piercings? No. 20.This person could spend hours…… Being in nature.

————–

1. How long have you been dating your girlfriend/boyfriend? Like I said, together 11 years, married 5. 2. Do you love them? Yes, more than anything. 3. Do you see yourself being with them for a long time? Yes. 4. What do they eat a lot of? He goes through food phases a lot. He’ll get fixated on one type of snack and then move on to another. 5. What’s their favorite sport? Basketball. 6. What kind of music do they listen to? A whole buncha stuff. 7. Do you have a nickname for them? I call him a buncha different cheesy embarrassing pet names lol. 8. Are they older or younger than you? He’s 5 years older. 9. How often do you talk to them? Everyday, all throughout the day. 10. Do you see them every day? Yup, we live together. 11. If you could tell them one thing what would it be? If I had to tell him something right now, I’d text him lol. 12. How comfortable are you with him/her? I’m 100% comfortable with him. 13. Do you keep secrets from him/her? No. 14. Do you think he/she keeps secrets from you? No. We’re very open with each other. 15. What do they usually smell like? Like himself? Idk, I can’t describe it.

Your name: Hannah.

Their name: Mark.

Are they older or younger than you? He’s 5 years older.

How many years have you known each other? 12 years.

Have you ever been to the movies together? Yes.

What is something you both enjoy doing together? Hiking/walking on trails, camping, waterparks, watching TV, cracking jokes.

What is one word to describe them? Kind. In so many ways.

Have you ever lived together? We’ve lived together since 2014ish.

Are you from the same town? No, he is from Joliet and I’m from Chicago.

Do you know their parents? Only his mom; his dad passed away when Mark was a kid.

Do either of you have children? Hell no! We love our childfree life.

Which of you is tallest? He’s taller by almost a foot.

Who is more likely to confront someone? Neither of us are very confrontational at all. I guess it depends on the situation.

Do either of you have a dog? Nope.

When is the last time you spoke to them in person? About 3 hours ago before I left for work.

Do either of you smoke cigarettes? No, but he vapes occasionally.

Who tells more jokes/does humorous things? It’s probably pretty even between us.

Do either of you have any siblings? He has an older brother and a younger sister and I have an older sister.

Do they have piercings? Nope.

Who would most likely cry during the movie Titanic? Neither of us, haha.

Who has longer hair? I do.

What is a random favorite they have? (food, color, animal, movie genre, etc) His favorite food is crab legs.

What is word or phrase they say a lot? He quotes things a lot..

Name a band or singer you know they like to listen to: Sublime.

Does he/she have a facebook? Yes.

Are either of you married or dating someone? We’re married to each other.

What do you both do for a living? I work for a university and he is currently unemployed.

Who is more likely able to put something together? Both of us.

Have you ever been to any concerts together? Nope.

How about to the grocery store together? Yeah.

Who wears more jewelry? I do.

Which of you has more of a sweet tooth? I do.

Who drinks more water? We could both do better.

Which of you are more outgoing? I am.

Who would win in a thumb war? No idea.

Have you ever taken a walk together? Countless times.

What type of person would they be at a haunted house? I don’t think he’d enjoy them that much.

A word to describe them that starts with the 1st letter of their last name Weird, lol.

Who’s birthday is coming up next? His was just a couple weeks ago.

If you could pick a superhero for both of you to be, who would you choose? Eh.

Who is a night owl and who is a morning person? We are both night owls even though I need to be up early for work, and lately he’s been getting up with me so.

#surveys #at work #relationship survey

2 notes · View notes

brothalynchhung · 5 months

Text

2023 overview part 2

since when was there a text limit?

anywho lolla was so much even if i was alone

chicago food slapped the city was so much fun and yeah just enjoy being in america

the record stores 🫡

that kokoroko story omg the fact that i went to the same places as new jeans just a few days apart 😭 but still that store was my 80s dreams

BUT YEAH I SAW NEW JEANS AND TXT LIVE

JID RHCP DESTROY LONELY A BOOGIE BAEBADOOBEE KENDRICK AGAIN

so much fun honestly the vibes of an american music festival r unmatched

loved summer so much

then i went back to toronto and just waited for the torment to be over cuz i just wanted to get the fuck out of there

seriously chilling w that bitch nd her weird ass bf was hell

literally toronto was the worst place i went to this year.. lol

anyways its over and never happening again

now i know forsure im never going back i HAVE to make it somewhere else

ANYWAYS i left canada then came back around sept and had to deal w moving out

left my old isolated place

gunna miss that view tho lol and my old gym / salon but othat than thaat... BYE

then moved in w nada which is going okay i guess whatever

im in a weird limbo state in my life rn -_- after an amazing few months of travelling idk what the hell going on

i quickly got a job LOL ofc but i kinda got into it/entered it not rlly knowing what the fawk was happening in my life like uh yeah i guess okay lets just do this cuz i need to sell my furniture and put it somewhere and i need a visa

legit its just for the visa until i figure out where i wanna go -_- bUTTT

i havent had much time to even think about that or my future cuz...

of that stupid ass discord. .. group -_-

look its not even the group idc about them like yeah nice weirdos woo whatelse is new

but that stupid ass day i decided to go to the korean restaurant.. -_-

like i was doing so well man but then my eyes set on fire

im still figuring it out but whatever idk

like work was good tbh it doesnt even FEEL like work cuz yeah tbh after that hell job i just dont care about labor anymore like nah im NEVER putting my whole pussy into a job ever again im putting myself first always now so this current job just doing feel like shit

actually its kinda helping me get my mind off this bitch

idk man i met that bitch and now i cant stop thinking about him

blah blah typically me shit i obsess over someone and daydream crazy about them idk

hes cute tho ig i think hes better than all those other bitches i been w

OH ANOTHER THING THO I FINALLY BROKE MY 2 ALMOST 3 YEAR SPELL

thank god 😩

i mean it didnt go the way i would have wanted to..

i move too fast -_- and i think that was the problem

but after that spell broke i thought i would be done w it but nope

im crazy and started to get depressed

idk what i want or if im just using this bitch as a distraction from work/figuring out life

idk what i want bc obv this bitch isint anything special hes just kinda cute? but whatever HES NOT GL

so many red flags but im acting like a bull

brrr whatever the biggest this is just selling that fucking ass furniture

anyways the whole end of this year was just the new job, this bitch and me going crazy

the new job is fun the ppl are nice the client is annoying but its manageable thank god we got wfh but yeah even in office isint bad the ppl r nice which is the best part

the partying.. lol girl -_- i need to slow it down i cant keep on getting lit BECAUSE HONESTLY whats ruining me is the drinking

maybe if that bitch didnt exist in my life i would be fine and have control but jeesuss its like im trying to forget my current situation through him then try to forget him through partying and bullshit -________-

god please send me gl .. or whatever

or maybe i just need to act normal and stop being fucking crazy over a bitch i barely know that will do nothing for me and go back to focusing on getting shit done and FORWARD with my life

yeah -_-

anyways end of the year partying wooo work friends woo this weird discord chat group wooo delusions wooo

gym movies books learning japanese learning music theory (which i rlly need to get back to...) videos skateboarding art basically always encompasses my years

i just need to put myself out there more idk i need to get out of my head and start to do more

which is were im at perfectly idk why i had to go so crazy from oct-dec but whatever i think its over now

i cant suffer forever

anyways this was a long ass busy crazy year with so much travel beginnings and endings moving cutting off and meeting new people... im so so so grateful despite the emotional breakdowns and work stress and this bitch stress im sooo happy i think this was such a fun year and yeah we need ups and downs..

pluto in aquarius eh? so shit about to get crazier... nice -_-

i just want to make videos do my website idk FIGURE OUT WHERE I WANT TO LIVE sell my furniture and yeah ofc read read read movies movies movies be HEALTHY create more and realign my brain w my goals after this dumb bitch entered my life ugh (im doing it to myself fr) anddd idk what else make friends that are like me and MOVE FORWARD

remember self CONTINUE!! CONTINUE!!!

see u next year and hey future self if ur reading this i love you u can do it U SURVIVED THIS YEAR U CAN DO IT

0 notes

abigailjohn2023 · 5 months

Text

Divorce Attorneys - Just how to Select the Correct One For You

Divorce is a tense time for everyone. There are lots of organic emotions to deal with, maybe even kiddies to consider, and along with all that, you have to investigate divorce attorneys. While divorce attorneys do not come inexpensive, they could support convenience the stress of a clear break, with all events sufficiently appeared after. Fort Lauderdale Divorce Mediation

Ensuring that you find the correct divorce attorney suggests finding one that makes you're feeling comfortable through the entire process. It may also be valuable to have guidelines on divorce attorneys from friends who have been via a divorce. However, each condition is significantly diffent, so it's crucial to meeting numerous divorce attorneys before you choose the main one for you.

When interviewing divorce attorneys there are a few issues which will provide you with a great base where to foundation your ultimate decision.

Initial Consultation - Free Or Fee

Before you physically get and meet with your potential divorce attorneys, check always as to if they cost a payment because of their initial consultation. In larger towns, like Los Angeles and Chicago, divorce attorneys can demand a tiny cost because of their initial consultations. While this exercise shouldn't prevent you from seeing the attorney, think twice about interviewing a divorce attorney charging a sizable fee for an original consultation. These attorneys can sometimes focus in high page divorces and, until that's you, you probably will not need their expertise.

Divorce Legislation Consultant Or Generalist

It's crucial that you ask your selected divorce attorneys if they solely training divorce law, or if it's only part of their over all practice. If they don't specialize in divorce legislation, inquire further to offer true instances (respecting confidentiality of course), of these divorce clients. If they only have a couple of divorces they've treated before, be added important in one other aspects of your interview.

When you yourself have kiddies swept up in the divorce, it can also be helpful to ask whether are qualified in household law. Household legislation has many different facets, which range from state to state. Ensuring your divorce lawyer is completely competent may ensure you receive the best for your children.

Expenses And Full Cost

An attorney's charges can frequently be very expensive. Nevertheless, in your interviews require a whole breakdown of charge structures. This is essential in order to avoid being faced with concealed charges at the conclusion of the divorce process. Several divorce attorneys cost by the hour. Some even charge by the moment, therefore discover how your potential divorce attorney charges.

Also, investigate whether you are'on the clock'the moment your prospective divorce attorney accumulates the phone. Learn if you is likely to be priced for phone calls wherever you ask a fast question, such as for example "Did you send me the paperwork to indication?"

Disbursements will also be common in the legitimate profession. This really is where customers are charged a group total protect photocopying, faxing, sending, and more. While that is all essential, do not be afraid to issue your prospective lawyer on the matter, particularly if you have a straightforward case.

Question your potential divorce attorney for a complete price figure. Most divorce attorneys you meeting may find it too difficult to answer this question. Try to find an lawyer who asks detailed issues about your particular situation. Their thoroughness during your meeting will give you a review of how thorough they might handle your divorce. At the conclusion of the appointment, you need to have a tough estimate of the sum total price with plenty of space for unforeseen extras

0 notes

qu-film-history-to-1968 · 6 months

Text

Salesman and Dont Look Back are Insights into the Lack of Faith

Julia Merolle

After watching Salesman (1969) directed by brothers Albert and David Maysles and Charlotte Zwerin and Dont Look Back (1967) directed by D.A. Pennebaker, I can safely say that both of these films are similar and different, in many different ways. Although they both have similarities and differences, the differences are more prevalent, especially when discussing both films.

To start, the similarities between Salesman and Dont Look Back are very few. For example, they are both shot in black-and-white with a low-grade image camera. It seems that both of these films were shot on 16mm as well, but other than that they are very different. For starters, Salesman takes place in New England, Florida, and Chicago as the main locations in the film. Salesman also follows Paul Brennan, the main salesman of the film. Although there are other salesmen in the film such as Charles McDevitt, James Baker, and Raymond Martos, Paul is the main focus of the documentary, which mostly shows how he is struggling to keep up with his Bible sales when compared to the others. This film is also hard to watch at times because of how well it touches upon human desperation and self-doubt, especially when relating it to capitalism during this era. On the other hand, Dont Look Back focuses on famous American musician Bob Dylan and his 1965 tour throughout England. This film focuses a lot on the daily goings besides the actual concerts on his tours in this documentary. It is also interesting when watching this film because it doesn’t show Bob Dylan in the best light. This film shows how awful he treats people, especially Donovan. Pennebaker does an incredible job with the cinematography, and one of the most captivating scenes from the whole documentary is when Dylan is writing a piece of music. Again, this film highly contrasts with Salesman as it shows Bob Dylan’s true colors and how rude he was in this film, but I still enjoyed the film nonetheless.

When reflecting both of these films on the lack of faith in social institutions, they are a little different. For example, Salesman shows how in this capitalist society, not a lot of these low-income families want to buy a Bible from Paul. A quote from “The Maysles Brothers and "Direct Cinema" written by Maxine Haleff shows why this is important. The reading states, “Ideally, Al and Dave would like to produce their films for motion picture theatres. "Some people say that the audience won't sit through a long documentary, because it is not emotionally involving," says Dave. "But we think that, properly done, this kind of film can be the most emotionally involving. We wish to show people living their own lives and speaking their own thoughts with a minimum of structuring of events by the film emotionally involving. We wish to show people living their own lives and speaking their own thoughts with a minimum of structuring of events by the filmmaker.” (page 19). This shows that this documentary doesn’t exactly follow the lack of faith, because even though Paul is selling Bibles in Salesman, it is showing themes of desperation and self-doubt as he struggles to make sales. A quote from “The View From Backstage An Interview With D. A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus” written by Richard Porton also shows the important themes, especially within the documentary Dont Look Back. This reading states, “The most memorable sequences in D.A. (Donn Alan, b. 1925) Pennebaker’s Dont Look Back, (1967; the lack of an apostrophe in the title became part of the film’s lore) do not document Bob Dylan’s concert appearances during his 1965 British tour. As captivating as these concert excerpts are for Dylan fans, the film remains a Direct Cinema classic because of its unflinching, if good-humored, glimpses of the behind-the-scenes machinations of the tour–particularly Dylan’s often acrimonious exchanges with the press and his manager Albert Grossman’s wily negotiations on behalf of his client.” (page 24). This quote is extremely important because it shows the themes I discussed earlier which were that it wasn’t all about the concert but the way that Dylan treated lots of people, mostly the press. This is important because it goes back to the lack of faith and this can be seen obviously through Dylan’s treatment of the press because they are all journalists. Bob Dylan is showing that he has no faith by the way he isn’t compelled by the journalists, which is one of the main points of this documentary. Another quote from this reading, in which Pennebaker discusses Albert Grossman’s intentions with this film states, “My impression, although I never really talked about it with him, was that he wanted to get Dylan into the movies, perhaps with Warner Bros, or some other studio, and he thought this was a way of entering the industry. It was certainly not the kind of filmmaking that Albert thought it would be. He was just looking after Dylan. He was always very careful and attentive—and, unlike the Beatles's manager —went everywhere with us. For Albert, Dylan was someone to be protected. And he took that task very seriously. He wouldn't let Dylan go on TV. He thought that would cheapen his career.” (page 24). The reason that this quote also stood out to me is because Dylan’s manager believed that television would damage his career, although some could say that this documentary did. The way that he treated the journalists and even Donovan was very rude and it could come off very bad. In a way, people could claim that this film would damage Dylan’s career, even though he turned from a folk singer to a rockstar.

Once again, these films show that there isn’t any faith left because Albert Grossman was thinking from a capitalist point-of-view and how he could monopolize because of Dylan’s career, which connects to Salesman and Paul's experience with capitalist ideals once again.

Sources:

Haleff, Maxine. The Maysles Brothers and “Direct Cinema”.

Pennebaker, D. A., et al. The View From Backstage: An Interview With D. A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus.

#submission

0 notes