#gopher smith

[molotovgrifter]

yeoman purser smith what a good wife you would be

[postmodern-blues]

your yeoman purser says “trans rights”! I watched “gopher’s roommate” last night and I have not recovered.

[lizard-speed]

normal thoughts at 2am

[snuggerudism]

hi! i am new to this account but not to tumblr! looking for nhl/college hockey enjoyers!

[1900scartoons]

Fifty Years Hence

November 16, 1907

At the Minnesota - Carlisle game, in 1957, an elderly George Capron stands on the sidelines, pointing out Antonio Lubo, who he played against fifty years ago; the ghost of Captain John Smith stands by him.

The caption reads "Capron - 'Why, hello, here comes old Lubo on a forward pass. I played against him fifty years ago.' Shade of Captain John Smith - 'Ah shucks! That's nothing; he worked that trick on me in the Jamestown game back in 1607.'"

Minnesota was playing against the Carlisle Indians that day. Capron was the Minnesota kicker, and Lubo was the Captain of the Carlisle team, where he had played for several years, even after graduating. Carlisle was on the fore-front of developing the forward pass in football, at a time when most points were won via field goal.

From Hennepin County Library

Original available at: https://digitalcollections.hclib.org/digital/collection/Bart/id/5255/rec/1774

[petermorwood]

A day or so ago, @dduane reblogged a long post - a Canadian magazine article from 1966 - about the Americanisation of Winnie the Pooh.

It's an Impressive Tirade in which the writer (Sheila H. Kieran) says what she thinks about letting Walt Disney have a free hand with a foreign Children's Classic.

There's mention of the previous Adaptation Endeavour, "Mary Poppins" (1964) but it's very brief, perhaps with an eye to limited column space - or maybe because All Was Said Already in a previous review.

There is, however, rather a lot about the English characters being given American accents, and about the inclusion of a new character, an American gopher (which, the article suggests, looked vague enough to the Kieran children - its target audience - that it might as well have been a mole or a beaver).

*****

And that reminded me of another bit of American Animalisation done by Disney, in the 1949 short "The Wind and the Willows" - though in this instance it's visual since the voices are, for the most part, suitably British.

They include Basil Rathbone as narrator, and a horse who sounds like George Formby. In some scenes the horse actually looks like Formby, so this voice may not be entirely accidental.

Badger, however, sounds like a Scotsman - the worst kind of stage Scotsman at that - rather than how I used to "hear" him as a C. Aubrey Smith-voiced crusty retired colonel.

That, however, is just personal preference.

However, Disney's Badger is not a proper British (more correctly, European) badger, Meles meles. Here's one, which though not the most amiable of beasts in reality, still manages to look fairly affable ("I say, old chap, whatever are you looking at?")

Instead he's a North American badger, Taxidea taxus, which not only has a less affable expression ("Hey, bud, you. Yeah, you. You lookin' at me? You lookin' at ME?") but, more important, different stripes.

Here's Disney's version alongside mine. The correction took about five minutes of pixel-tweaking.

Disney's animators could have got it right from the outset just as easily, because I'm pretty sure the reference library which provided costume info for Rat's tweed Norfolk jacket and britches included picture-books of natural history.

Come to that, any "The Wind in the Willows" after the unillustrated first edition would have been enough, and there must have been at least one copy lying around for story adaptation and scene-description purposes.

The first illustrated edition came out in the UK in 1931, and its artist was, at author Kenneth Graham's request, the very same E.H. Shepard who had illustrated the Pooh books just a few years previously...

...while this Arthur Rackham colour plate is from an edition published in 1940 in New York.

So those books wouldn't have been impossible for Disney to get.

The problem, however, is that if a word ("badger", for instance) is well known to mean one thing here, it may be Too Much Trouble to find out if the same word means something else there, with the result that finding out can sometimes come as rather a surprise.

Check the UK / US meaning of "suspenders" to see what I mean... ;->

[doctorbitchcrxft]

It's a Terrible Life | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, potentially toxic relationship dynamic between boss and subordinate, undertones of misogyny

Word Count: 7310

A/N: I got a little carried away here.... lmfao I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You groaned as your alarm clock beeped. You pulled your pillow over your head before reaching over and silencing the alarm.

Slowly but surely, you were getting frustrated with the monotony of routine. The stuffy cubicles, the holiday office parties, and the fucking assistant job you’d be starting today. You were grateful, but you wanted more out of life. Being some douche’s gopher wasn’t what you envisioned your life would be. 

You took a sip of your sugary morning latte and turned your back to the counter. Your apartment was small, but it was home. You hoped with your new job you’d at least be able to afford some nicer furniture than the futon you often fell asleep on watching “Sex and the City” re-runs. 

Gas was expensive, and you lived in the city. So, you preferred to take the bus to work. The building— or, rather, skyscraper— you’d be working in was as monotonous and boring as ever. Columns of windows extending miles high made up its exterior, and you clutched the handle you were hanging onto tighter as you approached. One of your biggest fears was heights, and your new job was on one of the top floors.

The lobby was pristinely clean, and your heels made a loud clacking sound as you strode over to the elevator. 

You checked your clipboard of papers you’d printed out at the library the night before and noted the office you were to report to. 

You knocked on the door labeled “Dean Smith— Director, Sales & Marketing.” “Good morning,” you said as you poked your head into the open doorway. 

A man with his hair slicked down in a sharp suit and tie stood from behind his desk. “Ah, you must be (Y/N),” he said. 

There was no denying how gorgeous he was. “Hi,” you replied shyly, trying to keep your cheeks from heating. 

He strode over to you and extended his hand. “Dean. Dean Smith,” he said. 

You put your hand in his and smiled. “Nice to meet you.” You hated how small your voice sounded, but he seemed to find it endearing. 

“You’re early,” he said. “I like it.” 

You shrugged. “I just wanna make a good impression.” You took a deep breath. “Now, I have a few ideas about how I could organize your schedule a little bit better and maybe take a few things off your plate…”

****

The night of your third day working with Mr. Smith— who insisted you call him Dean— dragged on. The man could be a bit of a workaholic, but he also seemed to have a pretty solid sense of humor at times.

Your nerves had not yet eased up, and it seemed Mr. Smith was doing his best to break you out of your shell. 

“(Y/N), tell me something about you,” he implored after hanging up the phone for his last meeting of the night.

You sat on the couch in his office flipping through his calendar for the upcoming week. “There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged.

“Ah, c’mon,” he said, “please?”

You sighed dramatically with a smile. “Well, I, uh— I went to University of Kansas in Lawrence for business—”

“Something non-work-related, (Y/N),” Dean smirked. “I already know you’re overqualified to be working for me.”

Your cheeks heated, and you looked down at your lap with a smile. “I, um, I wanted to be a ballerina up until I was eighteen. Twelve years of intense training at a ballet academy just for me to trade it all in for this,” you explained, gesturing around you. “You can imagine how happy my parents were.” You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “What about you?” you asked. “Tell me something non-work-related.”

“Well, I haven't been to the gym in ages, and I was definitely never a dancer. Carrying a little bloat around nowadays,” he said. “It's a sedentary lifestyle, y’know?”

“Trust me, I know,” you said. “All I get you for lunch is salads; you don’t seem to be doing that badly.”

Dean smirked. “Thanks very much.”

You realized what you’d said and your eyes widened a bit. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve— sorry—”

“It’s alright, no sweat,” he told you. Trying to break up the slight tension, he asked, “How do you feel about ‘Project Runway’?” 

You snorted. “Seriously?”

“Hell yeah!” he replied.

“I’m more of a ‘Top Model’ fan myself,” you said. 

“Ooh, Tyra’s a bitch,” Dean added. “How do you put up with watching her?”

You shrugged. “Slightly masochistic enjoyment.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, I’d better get going,” he told you as he checked his watch. “Close up whenever you leave, would you?” He tossed you his keys, and you were left there reeling from the interaction you’d just had. 

****

The next morning, Dean came in looking slightly rattled. 

“Mr. Smith?” you asked, standing from your seat on the couch. “Are you alright?”

His head swiveled toward yours. “Huh?” he said. “Oh, uh— yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

You walked over to him and took the briefcase he was white-knuckling gently. “What happened?” you questioned.

Dean shook his head. “Just this weirdo in the elevator,” he said. “First, I thought he was trying to get me to the showers, if you know what I mean, and then, he asked me if I believe in ghosts.”

You snorted. “What?”

“I’m dead serious,” he replied. 

“Does he even work here?” you asked. “Or was it, some, like, poor soul off the street that doesn’t know what year it is?”

Dean chuckled. “He works in tech, I think.”

“Weird,” you muttered. 

“Completely.” 

****

“Mr. Smith?”

“It’s Dean, (Y/N),” he replied. 

“Sure,” you said, putting your clipboard down on the coffee table in front of you. “But do you believe in ghosts?”

He scoffed. “What?” Dean stopped typing on his computer.

“You never said whether you did or not,” you replied. “When you were talking about that guy in the elevator.”

Dean chuckled. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“I’m serious,” you whined. “Humor me.”

Your boss seemed taken aback. “Well, I’ve never given it much thought, to be honest.”

“Me neither,” you replied earnestly. “But I think that maybe I do.”

“Well,” Dean scoffed jokingly, “you can go get help on the paddy wagon with the tech support guy.”

You giggled. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. “Did you ever figure out who he is?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know that I care to find out.”

You considered. “Fair,” you finally said. 

****

A few days later, a man was found dead in the tech support cubicle office several floors down from you and Dean. He’d apparently stuck his head in a microwave and cooked himself to death, which you found slightly implausible. 

You held a hand to your chest as the coroners wheeled the man out of the office. Dean was standing next to a few other suits, and you stood a few yards off with some of the other women who worked on your floor. 

“Something doesn’t seem right about this,” you told the small group you stood in.

“Try the whole thing,” another girl piped up. “I’ll never eat popcorn again.”

“Me neither,” chimed in another. “Finally gives me an excuse to quit all the carbs.”

****

That poor guy’s death really tugged at you. Without sharing your feelings with your boss, you pulled out your laptop and put it on his desk opposite from where he sat. Dean had given you access to the personnel files to help him manage his own employees a bit better, but you took advantage of it to access the file of the man who’d died: Paul Dunbar.

“Two weeks?” you muttered aloud without realizing it.

“Huh?” Dean questioned.

You shook your head. “Sorry, it’s just— It’s nothing.”

“No, c’mon,” he pleaded. “Tell me what’s up.”

“The guy who died,” you said. “Paul Dunbar. His retirement party was supposed to be in two weeks.”

“Why are you—? (Y/N), that’s not what I gave you access to personnel files for,” he replied.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just curious,” you said nervously. “His death’s jus’ got me shaken up, is all.”

“(Y/N), do your little investigation on your own time,” he snapped. 

You were taken aback by his attitude. 

Then, someone knocked on the opened door. A nervous-looking tech support employee stood there with his shoulders slumped. 

“Hi. Ian, is it?” you asked, standing and snapping to attention.  “Come on in.” You shut your laptop, picked it up, and began to walk out to your own office which you found you spent very little time in. “I’ll give you guys the room,” you said, shutting the door behind you. There was some sort of issue Dean needed to take up with him, and you decided to give yourself the time to think. 

Before you could shut the door behind you, the tech support employee sprinted past you with Dean hot on his heels. You followed as fast as your feet would allow. 

“Mr. Smith?” you called after him. “Dean!”

Ian sprinted into the men’s room, and Dean followed him. With only slight hesitation, you followed, too. 

“Ian, hey. Just chill out, man,” Dean told the employee. “Okay?”

Ian was staring into a mirror, and you noticed how cold the room was. The bathroom was always slightly frigid, but never like this. Then, you noticed you could see your breath. 

Suddenly, all the faucets came on as well as all the soap dispensers.

“What the fuck?” you murmured.

“Ian, hey, maybe we should get out of here, huh?” Dean insisted. “Come on, Ian. Look at me.”

Ian turned toward Dean and pulled a pencil out of his pocket. After a brief moment of tense eye contact, the man stabbed himself in the neck with the sharp end of the pencil. 

You screamed in horror and covered your mouth with your hands. You jumped again when you saw an old man in the mirror behind Ian. 

“Dean, look!” you cried. 

He saw the man as well, and when the two of you turned around, he was gone. Immediately, you rushed to Ian’s side. You listened to his chest for a heartbeat, but he was long gone. Stricken with confusion and grief, you looked up at Dean and shook your head.

“Somebody help us!” he screamed.

****

Of course, the police had questions for you and Dean. And, of course, you didn’t mention the disappearing old man.

In the middle of the investigation, a tall man with a yellow shirt on was staring at you from across the room. You occasionally glanced at him, slightly unsettled, but continued to provide answers to the best of your ability. After hours of rigorous interrogation, Ian was wheeled away on a stretcher in a black bag. 

You just stared after him, and you jumped when your boss tapped your arm lightly. 

“Whoa, hey,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just me. Come, uh— come with me real quick, would ya?”

You nodded and followed him back to his office still in a bit of a daze. “What’d you wanna see me for?” you asked, closing the door to his office behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Dean cleared his throat. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” you told him. “Are you, uh— Are you okay?”

“Maybe,” he said. “I saw that ghost guy from the elevator outside the bathroom.”

“Oh,” you replied. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“He and Ian were close. And I thought maybe he could answer a few questions about that old man from the bathroom for us,” Dean explained.

And so, Dean called him in. 

“Come on in,” he told the employee. “Shut the door.”

The man closed the door behind himself, and you stood in the far corner just watching. “Wait, this is the guy?” you asked.

Dean gave you a strange look. “Yeah…?”

“He was staring at me outside the bathroom,” you told him. 

“Who the hell are you?” Dean asked him, his tone slightly accusatory.

“I'm not sure I know,” the man replied.

“What the hell does that mean?”

The employee shook his head. “Sam Wesson. I started here three weeks ago.”

“Alright. You cornered me in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now…” Dean trailed off, pacing a bit behind his desk.

“Now, what?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised. 

Dean sighed. “Now nothing. I, uh… so you started working here three weeks ago, huh?”

Sam nods.

“Me, too,” you said. 

Dean looked at you in surprise. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Huh,” you murmured, staring at the ground. Something about this felt strange.

Dean unscrewing the top of a bottle pulled you out of your own head. “It's the Master Cleanse,” Dean told you and Sam. “You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business.” He took a large swig.

“When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?” Sam asked.

“I don’t—”

You cut Dean off. “Yes,” you replied. 

“(Y/N)—” Dean almost scolded. “We don’t know what we saw.”

Sam turned his attention to you. “Wait, are you saying that—did you see a ghost?”

“We were freaking out,” Dean answered for you. “The guy penciled his damn neck.”

“Yes, we did,” you responded anyway.

“Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something,” Sam trailed off, searching for the word, “not natural?”

“So, what, ghosts are real?” Dean scoffed. “And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?”

The three of you finally decided to sit down, almost doing so in unison. 

“I know it sounds crazy. But yes. That's what I'm telling you,” Sam replied.

“Uh-huh,” Dean nodded skeptically. “Based on what?”

Sam searched for an answer for a moment. “Instinct,” he finally said.

Dean looked down and shook his head. “I've got the same instinct.”

“Seriously?” Sam asked, almost sounding relieved.

The two men looked at you expectantly. 

“What? I already told you I thought the guy in the bathroom was a ghost,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sam turned back to Dean. “You know those dreams I was telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts,” he said. “And then it turns out that there's a real ghost.”

Dean scoffed. “So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions, and you're some kind of psychic?”

Sam made a deadpan expression. “No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little,” he leaned over and pulled some papers out of his bag, “I think I found a connection between the two guys.”

Sam passed the papers, and Dean then passed them to you. 

“You broke into their email accounts?” Dean questioned.

The employee looked bashful. “I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Nice,” you grinned lopsidedly. 

“So it turns out, Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four,” Sam explained.

“HR’s on seven,” you noted, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Exactly.”

“Should we go check this out?” Dean asked. He seemed a little excited, if you were honest.

“Like, right now?” Sam replied.

Dean shook his head. “No. No, it's getting late. You're right.”

“I am dying to check this out right now,” Sam grinned.

“Right?” you added, excitement causing butterflies to jolt around your stomach.

Despite the exhausting day, adrenaline surged through you as you went to the fourteenth floor. You felt slightly relieved to be moving down a few floors.

The building was mostly empty by this time of night which was why you were caught off-guard by someone yelling down the hall as soon as the elevator doors opened. 

You shared a quick glance with Dean before the three of you were racing down the hall to the source of the sound. Unsurprisingly, the screams were coming from behind the door to room 1444. 

“It’s locked,” Dean said. 

Almost instinctively, Sam kicked the door open.

“Whoa,” your boss breathed out.

Once inside, you could see the man screaming and writhing under a fallen bookshelf. You rushed to his side along with Sam, and the two of you tried your best to get him out from under the shelf. You hardly had time to register the whirring computer monitors and shaking shelving units scattered throughout the room.

The old man from the bathroom appeared next to Sam and shoved him over before telekinetically flinging you and Dean against a wall. 

You groaned, and your head lolled to the side. Then, you noticed a wrench lying on the ground a few feet away from you. 

Dean had risen to his feet to try and help the man the ghost was approaching, and you shouted, “Dean, catch!” while throwing the wrench at him.

He caught it easily, and then, he swung at the old man with the wrench. Immediately, the old man dissipated before he could touch the man underneath the shelf. The chaos around the room came to a stop as well. 

You were able to help the man out from under the shelves, and he scrambled away and out of the room. 

“How’d you know that would work?” Sam asked.

You and Dean shook your heads. “I have no idea,” the two of you responded in unison.

****

Dean suggested the three of you head back to his apartment to recharge and chat. You and Sam agreed, and it was clear the three of you were reeling from the incident on the way there. 

Dean took a large swig of his Master Cleanse, and you and Sam sat awkwardly on his couch. It was clear the two of you were out of your element in Dean’s luxury apartment on the nicer side of town. 

“Holy crap,” Dean breathed out before taking another drink of his juice cleanse.

“Yeah,” Sam added. “I could use a beer.”

“Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house,” Dean replied with a sheepish grimace.

Sam turned to you as Dean handed him a water bottle. “Hey, how the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?”

You shrugged.

Dean chuckled. “Crazy, right? And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like, a black belt or something?”

“No. I have no clue how I did that. It's like… we've done this before,” Sam commented.

“What do you mean, ‘before’? Like ‘Shirley MacLaine’ before?” Dean scoffed.

“No. I- I just can't shake this feeling like I— like I don't belong here, y’know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle,” the taller man said.

“I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way,” you noted. “But I get what you mean. I’m not crazy about my job, either. I don’t exactly like constantly being an accessory to someone else without being able to do my own work. Sorry, Dee.” You covered your mouth with your hand after realizing what you’d called him. 

“Dee?” your boss mouthed under his breath as you continued to flush.

“Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town,” Sam explaIned. “I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you?” He looked over at you. “You ever feel that way?” 

You considered, and Dean took the opportunity to answer for you. “I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though.”

“Okay, so, what now?” you asked.

“We do what I do best, Sammy. Research,” Dean replied.

Sam looked taken aback. “Okay. Did you just call me Sammy?” 

“Did I?”

“I think you did,” Sam chuckled. “Yeah. Don't.”

“Sorry,” Dean grimaced. He sat at his laptop at his corner desk, and you and Sam pulled out your own on the couch.

Within thirty minutes, Dean chuckled. “Oh, jackpot.”

“What you got?” Sam asked.

“I just found the best site ever,” Dean grinned, beckoning you and Sam over. “Real, actual ghost hunters.”

You and Sam got up from the couch and stood behind Dean. 

“These guys are genius. Check it out,” your boss said.

“Instructional videos,” Sam added.

You read the banner of the website, which was entitled “Ghostfacers.” You thought the name was interesting, and the guys on screen were a bit nerdy-looking, but you were willing to give them a chance.

The two men were wearing white lab coats and glasses standing behind a metal table.

“We know why you're watching,” one said.

“You've got a problem,” the other added.

“A ghost problem.”

Almost in unison, the first man said, “A ghost-related problem. A ghost— it's like a ghost-adjacent pr— it's like a problem that's— and the ghost is—”

The dark-haired Ghostfacer cut his coworker off. “Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it.”

“Period.”

“Watch and learn.”

“See, the first step in any supernatural fight—”

“Figure out what you're up against,” the two said in unison.

You rushed over to your laptop to show them the picture of Sandover’s founder. “This is the guy,” you said.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “That’s him.”

“P. T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work,” you explained. “No wife, no kids.”

“Used to say he was the company,” Sam read from the article, “and his very blood pumped through the building.”

“Wow, okay. So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, y’know, watching over the company, even killing for it.”

“I mean, he’s talking about it like it’s his child,” you joked. “Plus, turns out this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. First time was in 1929. And I know what you’re thinking, y’know, Great Depression, lots of people killed themselves. But this company had seventeen suicides.”

“Phew. Okay, so P. T. Sandover, protector of the company,” Dean grimaced. “His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress.”

“Well, I mean, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression—” 

Dean cut Sam off. “Is now. Yeah, ‘now’ sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it.”

“So Sandover's helping the bottom line—”

Dean cut Sam off again. “By zapping some model employees.”

“Do you always cut people off when they’re talking?” you asked rhetorically. 

Your boss gave you a playful glare.

“Anyway, I mean, Ian and Paul,” Sam continued. “It was like he turned them into different people.”

“Perfect worker bees, exactly,” Dean noted. “So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it.”

“One more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office,” Sam read from your computer. 

You then returned to the Ghostfacers video.

“Once you've got that thing in your sights—” the redhead began.

“You kill it,” the two men said in unison.

“Using special ghost-hunting weapons.”

“First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts.”

“Burny acid.” 

“Not LSD,” the dark-haired one clarified.

“No. It's a bad trip for ghosts. Next up, iron.”

“That's why the wrench worked,” Sam said, lightly slapping Dean’s shoulder.

The Ghostfacers continued, “Pure power in your hand.”

“Dissipates ghosts instantly.”

“Next little trick. We learned this from those useless douchebags—” The redheaded one added, “That we hate.”

“The Winchesters.”

“What are they, like Bonnie and Clyde?” you wondered aloud.

“Gun,” one man said.

“Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt,” the dark-haired one added.

“Very effective.”

“Very effective.”

“Winchesters still suck ass, though.”

“Affirmative. Suckage major.”

“The girl they’re with, what was her name?” the dark-haired man asked.

The redheaded one replied, “That’s not important right now. She knows who she is. She’s still got my heart.” He made a kissing face at the camera. 

You giggled at his antics, but you slightly felt bad for whatever girl he was referring to.

Dean paused the video and got up from his seat to pack his fire pokers in a duffel bag with a salt shaker.

“Where do we even get a gun?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. “Gun store?”

“Isn't there like some kind of waiting period or something?” you questioned.

“I think so,” the taller man replied.

“Well, how in the hell—”

Sam cut him off. “I don't know. Seems pretty impossible, honestly.”

You three then returned your attention to the video.

“The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains,” the dark-haired Ghostfacer explained.

“Okay, this next part gets a little gross,” the redhead warned. “Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.”

“It's illegal in some states—”

“All states—”

“—Possibly all states.”

Sam looked over a page on his laptop. “Sandover was cremated.”

“What? So what do we do now?” Dean asked, nearly gripping the screen as if asking the Ghostfacers in person.

“Now, if the deceased has been cremated—” “Don't panic.”

“Just gotta look for some other remains.”

“A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth.”

“Milk teeth,” the dark-haired one suggested.

The redhead nodded. “Genetic material. You know what we're talking about.”

“Go find it.”

To sign off, the redhead said, “Fight well, young lions.”

“Godspeed,” the other added. Then, the video went dark.

****

You and the boys entered the elevator to the building, trying your very best to evade security. For two considerably large and well-built men, they looked pretty terrified. It made Dean seem kind of adorable, if you were honest with yourself.

“Set your cell phones to walkie-talkie in case we get separated,” Dean instructed you and Sam.

You obliged.

“How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?” Sam questioned.

“Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?” He pressed the button to floor fourteen, and you subconsciously reached for his wrist as the elevator jolted. You gripped it tightly, and your entire body tensed.

Dean looked down at your hand that was holding his, and your cheeks heated. Quickly, you pulled your hand away as to not make him uncomfortable.

“Elevators?” Dean asked, referring to your fear.

“Heights,” you replied, swallowing harshly.

Dean grabbed your hand again in an attempt to comfort you.

You looked at him sheepishly, but he gave you a light squeeze to let you know it was okay. 

You gave him a small smile, and he returned it.

The elevator dinged to let the three of you off, and you headed down the hallway to the room marked “1444.”

You flanked the shelves on one side, and Dean looked through the shelves on the other. Sam headed over to the desk and began searching through the drawers.

“What the hell are you doing here?” A guard holding a flashlight suddenly asked from the doorway. He had his flashlight beam focused on Sam, and you hoped he hadn’t seen you or Dean yet. You ducked behind the bookshelf you were searching.

“Man, listen. Look,” Sam pleaded as the guard took him away by the arm. “It's okay. I—I work here.” 

The guard shut the door behind him and Sam, and you took the opportunity to rush over and lock it behind them.

“You think he’ll be okay?” you whispered to Dean.

He nodded. “He’ll figure something out.” “How do you know?”

“Seems like a smart kid,” Dean shrugged.

“ ‘Kid’? And how do you know?” you snorted.

Dean thought for a moment. “You ask a lotta questions, you know that?”

You giggled.

Suddenly, you heard a sickening crunch from your phone. “Sam?” you called.

“Hey. You okay?” Dean asked into the speaker on his phone.

After a few moments, Sam said, “Call you back.”

You and Dean shared a look, and the two of you shrugged in unison. You then continued your search. 

You walked over to Dean who was holding a picture of a Sandover Bridge from the company’s early days. In slight sadness, you sighed.

“What?” Dean asked. He turned over his shoulder slightly to look at you but was careful not to bump into you with the proximity. 

You stayed frozen to the spot directly behind his left shoulder, staring down at the picture. “I don’t know. I think Sam’s right, I guess,” you replied after careful thought. “I think I wanna be more than… bridges and paperwork.”

Dean searched your face, but you continued to trace your eyes over the black-and-white image. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” you clarified, “you’re great, and all, but I don’t just wanna continuously be a sidekick in someone else’s life. It… it feels like I’m constantly living for someone else. I wanna be the star— the- the superhero sometimes, y’know?”

Dean nodded. “I get it,” he said, turning to face you a bit more. The amount of space between you did not seem to increase, though.

You scoffed playfully. “Sure, you do, Mr. Director of Sales and Marketing.”

He chuckled. “If it makes any difference to you, you are my superhero, sometimes, y’know?” He cleared his throat, seeming to realize what he said. “I mean, you’re instrumental to everything I do. Without you, the ship wouldn’t keep running.”

“I guess you’re right,” you shrugged. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he replied. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was leaning in to you in the dim light. You took a deep breath and moved away, effectively creating more space between the two of you. 

****

When your search was complete, you landed on one of the company’s history display on floor twenty-two. Dean told Sam to meet the two of you up there, and he’d bizarrely warned you to take the stairs.

However, when he entered the room, it became clear to you why. 

“That’s a ton of blood, Sam,” you noted, seeing the splatter on his yellow shirt. “What the hell happened?”

“Guard,” Sam explained shortly. “Elevator. Uh… decapitation.” He made a gesture of the elevator coming down to chop the guard’s head off from above.

“Gnarly,” you grimaced.

“Right. So, uh, in there.” Dean pointed to a glass case containing a pair of gloves.

Sam noted, “P. T. Sandover's gloves.”

Dean made a clicking sound. “Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something.”

“So, you ready?”

Dean blew out a puff of air. “I have no idea.”

“Me neither,” said Sam.

You shook your head but grabbed a fire poker anyway. 

Sam and Dean followed your lead by grabbing a container of salt and the other poker respectively.

“Go for it.” Sam gestured at you and Dean.

“Right,” Dean gulped, and you rolled your eyes with a small smile. 

You gave the glass a solid whack, and it shattered upon impact. Suddenly, you were flying through the air along with the two boys. Quickly, you scrambled to your feet just in time to see Sam throwing a bit of salt at Sandover. The ghost thankfully dissipated before it could get any closer to Sam.

“(Y/N)!” Dean shouted at you, and you caught the iron poker he threw at you like a reflex. You swung fiercely behind you, and you turned around just in time to see Sandover disappear again.

“Nice catch,” Dean told you, a slight air of bewilderment in his voice.

“Thanks,” you replied, staring down at the poker strangely. That fight almost made you feel like your body was possessed by someone trained in combat. 

Then, Sandover appeared behind Sam.

“Sam, look out!” you yelled, and he threw salt behind him.

The fight that followed was mostly orchestrated by you and Dean against Sandover while Sam tried to make his way over to the gloves. It fell upon you and Dean to defend him, and the two of you did so in a way that was uncomfortably effortless.

You and Dean subconsciously pressed yourselves back-to-back and circled around waiting for Sandover to materialize again.

Sam grabbed the gloves, and Dean lunged forward to hit at Sandover with the poker while the taller man lit the gloves on fire. 

Sam dropped the burning gloves to the ground, and Sandover appeared again to burn into nothing.

Breathlessly, Sam said, “That was amazing.”

****

“You got a first-aid kit?” you asked Dean. The three of you had gone back to his office to clean each other up.

He nodded and reached into the bottom drawer of his desk, then handed it to you. When he handed it to you, you noticed a nasty cut on his cheekbone. You sucked in a breath through your teeth and hissed. “You mind if I take a look at that?”

He hesitated but ended up nodding.

You gingerly cleaned the wound with a cotton pad and hydrogen peroxide, and Dean winced. “I’m sorry,” you told him.

“Y’know I can fix myself up, right?” he asked.

You nodded, heat rising to your cheeks again.

Dean still just let you continue your work before you moved on to Sam. When you went to address a wound on your arm, Dean shook his head and took the cloth pad from you. You offered a small smile, trying your best not to seem too bashful.

“Man, I gotta tell you,” Dean chuckled, “I've never had so much fun in my life.”

“Me neither,” Sam grinned.

“Was a hell of a workout, too, wasn't it?”

“We should keep doing this.”

“I know,” Dean replied.

Sam insisted, “I mean it. There gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people.”

“Like the Ghostfacers,” you added, your voice a little smaller than you would have liked.

“No, really. I mean, for real,” Sam continued.

Dean snorted. “What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?”

Sam nodded, and you scrunched your brows together in confusion.

“How would we live?” Dean asked. 

The brunet didn’t have an answer. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean scoffed. “How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?”

“That's all just details,” Sam shrugged.

“Details are everything. You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance.”

A silence settled over you.

“Alright, um, confession.”

You and Dean turned to Sam.

“Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts?” Sam asked. “I was fighting them.” He sucked in a breath, seeming uncomfortable. “With… the two of you. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. And we—” he gestured between himself and Dean, “were more like brothers, really. I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?”

You considered while Dean said, “That's insane.”

“Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?” Sam continued.

“Hey, man, the ghost is dead and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but—”

Sam cut Dean off. “Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be.”

“No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo,” Dean stated, getting to his feet.

“When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them?” Sam questioned, standing as well.

“Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused—”

“Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number, and I got a damn animal hospital,” the taller man said.

You stood, too. “Dean—”

“Okay, what are you saying?” Dean scoffed. “Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on.”

“Dean, maybe he has a point—” you tried. 

“You’re seriously not going along with this, are you?” Dean asked.

“No, I’m just saying—”

Dean cut you off again. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

“All I know is,” Sam jumped back in, “I got this feeling in my gut. And I know— I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you.”

Dean scoffed. “Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go.”

Sam looked like he wanted to say something more, but instead, he just headed to the door. You collected your stuff and moved to follow him out. 

“Not you, too,” Dean muttered.

You turned around. “Dean, I don’t know what is going on,” you told him. “I don’t want to live on the lam, but I also don’t want to stay here and just ignore whatever’s happened. I don’t know what the right thing to do right now is, okay?” You sighed, voice softening a bit. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You turned for the door again.

Dean admitted quietly, “I don’t, either.”

You turned back around. “What?”

“I don’t know what the right answer is, either,” he said, more confidently this time. He hesitantly moved over to you. “What I do know is that we made a really great team earlier.”

You smiled lopsidedly. “Yeah, we did.”

“And… I can’t believe I’m saying this—” he murmured, continuing to approach you.

Your heart began to race, cheeks flushing.

“—but whatever you do, I’ll do, too. I trust you.” Dean stopped when the two of you were just inches apart.

You looked up at him with doe eyes. “I gotta think about it.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

****

The next morning, you felt resolute in your decision. Hardly minding the height of the building on your walk into the lobby, you marched up to Dean’s office while trying to gather your courage.

When you opened and closed the door to the office, though, an unfamiliar voice came from behind you. 

“Ah, (Y/N),” the voice said.

You wheeled around to face an older man who seemed strangely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place his identity. He unsettled you.

“Good of you to join us,” he continued.

“Oh, (Y/N), this is Mr. Adler,” Dean told you as the two men sat down. 

“What’s going on?” you questioned.

“We were just discussing Mr. Smith’s future at the company,” Mr. Adler explained.

“Oh,” you said, slightly dejected. If Dean followed through on his statement to you from the previous night, you’d be ruining a really solid opportunity for him.

“Wanna make sure he’s not going anywhere,” Adler chuckled. “And you, too, missy. You’re both Sandover material. Real go-getters. Carving your own way.”

“Well, uhm,” you laughed awkwardly. “About that…”

Dean’s and Adler’s eyes were nearly burning holes into you, but you were focused on quite literally anything else in the room.

“Is something wrong?” Adler questioned, looking between you and Dean.

Dean took off his headset. “Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but… I am giving my notice,” he said.

“This is a joke,” the older man scoffed. “You're kidding me, right?” He was just as stunned as you were. 

“No. I've—I recently—uh, very recently realized that I have some other work I have to do. It's, uh, very important to me.” 

“Other work? Another company?” Adler rushed out.

“No, I—” 

You cut Dean off from answering the man. “I don’t want to speak for us both, but… I'll be leaving, too.” Adler grinned widely.

You were confused by that and even further unsettled. “Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Finally,” he said. He pressed two fingers to your forehead, and the world around you seemed to dim. 

“What the fuck,” you murmured, blinking at the world around you. Then, you jumped back in surprise at the man in front of you. “No…”

Dean seemed to have come back to as well. “What the hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My god, am I hungry.”

The older man before you laughed. “Welcome back.”

“Zachariah,” you breathed out, backing toward the door. Given how Uriel had treated you and the stories he’d told you about this particular angel, you were frightened of him.

“In the flesh,” the angel said.

“Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys,” Dean scoffed, seeming to have caught on.

“I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things,” Zachariah sneered, gesturing at his body, “but back when you were stuck in the Pit, the higher-ups felt it necessary I pay a visit. And now I see why after the business with Uriel. Gotta get my ducks in a row.”

“I am not one of your ducks,” Dean grunted, moving toward you slowly. You were frozen near the door.

“Starting with your attitude,” Zachariah stated dryly.

“Oh, so, what? This was all some sort of a lesson; is that what you're telling me? Wow, very creative.”

“Dean, stop,” you begged.

He glanced over at you in concern. Your tone had seemingly put him off. 

“You’d do well to listen to her,” the angel stated. 

“What are we doing here?” you asked, trying to get the heat off Dean. “Was this just a dream?”

“Not at all. Real place, real haunting,” the angel explained. “Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories.”

“Just to shake things up? Hm?” Dean pressed. “So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?”

“To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dads made you, not because god called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you both love it,” replied Zachariah. “You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time, and you're miserable without it. Guys, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it.”

“Stop what? The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man.” Dean had finally come to a stop next to you, and you grabbed his wrist to try and stop him from aggravating Zachariah further.

“You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it,” the older man stated. “But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?”

Dean’s jaw stiffened. “Angel or not, I will stab you in your face.” “Stop it,” you begged him, your breath catching in your throat.

“All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things,” Zachariah shrugged, pacing the room a bit. “Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with this lovely woman.”

You grimaced, staring at the floor.

“This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it,” Zachariah continued. “Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours; so are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[zhenjia]

GAMBLER FORD CHARACTER INFORMATION:

(I will draw full body later cause I 'm not really good draw full body without reference)

"Aˡᵉᵃ ᶦᵃᶜᵗᵃ ᵉˢᵗ"

FULL NAME: Stanford 'Filbrick' Pines

DIMENSION : 465

ALSO KNOW AS : Gambler ford

OTHER NAMES/ NICKNAMES :

Stanley Smith ,Big Brain, Hexdexter, Brainiac, Fordsy, IQ ,Sixer, Poindexter, Smart Guy, Princess's Knight, The Author, Finger Felon, Vile Vertuoso, Stem, Ford, Grunkle Ford, Mr. Smith, Stanley , Lucky Larcenist, Stan

AGE : 60s (real age),40s (his Face)

GENDER : Male

ORIENTATION: Aroace/plansexual

OCCUPATION :The Author Of The Journal ; Paranormal Investigator; Scientist ; Interdimensional Outlaw ; Adventurer ; Security Guard ; Co Manager at Freddy's ; Gambler

AFFILIATIONS :Pines Family, Zodiac, The Schmidt Family

(Other will be add)

GOAL : Investigate Gravity Falls Anomalies , Get so much money,Ensuring children live happily.

HOME : Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey (hometown), 618 Gopher Road, Gravity Falls, Oregon (formerly), Hurricane,Utah

RELATIVES :

Filbrick Pines (father), Caryn Pines (mother), Stanley Pines (younger twin brother), Sherman Pines (big brother), Mr. and Mrs. Pines (nephew and niece-in-law), Mabel Pines (great-niece), Dipper Pines (great-nephew),The Shape Shifter / Shifty(Adopted child)

ALLIES:

Other Version Bill Cipher/ Therapy Bill Cipher

Fiddleford .H. McGucket

Stanley Pines

Dipper Pines

Mabel Pines

Soos Ramirez

Wendy Corduroy

The Shape Shifter/Shifty

Michael Afton

Cassidy Fleur

Henry Schmidt

Charlotte Schmidt

Charlie Emily (Charliebot)

The Crying Child / Dave

Missing Children

Kid ford n' stan

(other will be add later)

ENEMIES :

His Bill Cipher /Fredbill

William Afton

(Other will be add later)

LIKES :

Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons;Gambling;Jelly beans (especially deformed ones); Sticky toffee pudding, The supernatural; His family; Orange juice; Mabel juice;Money;gum

(More will be add)

DISLIKES :

Being followed;Being manipulated;His family in danger;Losses in gambling ;Seeing children being abused;Memory gun; His middle name ; someone talk shit about his family especially Stan and Cassidy;

POWERS AND ABILITIES :

Extreme Intelligence, Luck, Sharper senses , Blessings from the axolotl

PARAPHERNALIA :

Laser gun

Magnet gun

Quantum destabilizer

Portable portal

Security logbook

Fredbear plush

Taser

(Other will be add)

SIGNATURE :

BACKSTORY (Soon will added)

[femaleunbonding]

Minnesota cultural dominance is here— evidence:

- Tim Walz

- People are into the Replacements again

- Twin Cities bike infrastructure is crazy

- Twin Cities greenspace is crazy

- everyone’s gonna have to start eating hot dish because of grocery inflation

- the existence of Danez Smith

- U Gophers are not that great at any sports except hockey

- Minnesota is pretty much global warming proof

- wilderness to go mad in

[codumofr]

Le Boeing F/A-18E, ainsi que le Boeing F/A-18F Super Hornet sont les avions de combat multirôle ayant succédé aux McDonnell Douglas F/A-18 Hornet. Entrée en service en 1980, il sera entre autres utilisé dans les porte-avions américains, mais à une estimation de 6 % de la flotte militaire aérienne. C’est en 1995 que le prototype du F/A-18E entre dans une phase d’assemblage final avec la livraison du premier moteur dans le même mois. Il volera la première fois le 15 septembre 1995 pour le F/A-18E et le 29 Novembre 1995 pour le F/A-18F Super Hornet. Facilement reconnaissable grâce à ses entrées d’air rectangulaires à la différence des entrées d’air arrondis du Super Hornet, il est ainsi peu probable de les confondre pour les connaisseurs. Son avionique est toutefois à 90 % commune avec son prédécesseur malgré le poste de pilotage partiellement modifié. Il accuse à cause de cela un sérieux vingt-an d’existence, qui pouvait être dépassé voire obsolète pour son époque. Entrant en service en 1999 dans l’US Navy, il remplace les F-14 Tomcat en étant un des rares programmes d’armement contemporains ayant respecté les délais et le budget prévus à son encontre. La version EA-18G Growler entrera lui en service en 2009 pour remplacer les EA-6B Prowler mis en service en 1971. Se montant à 700 appareils commandés et livrables en plusieurs tranches en 2010 en comprenant sa version EA-18G Growler pour la guerre électronique, 500 appareils seront assemblés en 2011 et 440 seront même livrés à la Navy. En 2022, l’US Navy présente le “Navigation Plan 2045” qui prévoit les dernières commandes de F/A18E et F/A-18F en 2023 tandis que les Super Hornet sont prévus pour être retirés de l’ensemble du service pour une période entre 2040 et 2045. En 2007, c’est la Royal Australien Air Force qui commande vingt-quatre exemplaires pour un montant de 6 milliards de dollars australiens (soit 3,1 milliards de dollars US) et qu’elle reçoit à partir de 2010. L’appareil est équipé d’un F414 qui lui permet des vitesses de Mach 1.8 à un plafond de 12’190 m (son plafond opérationnel étant de 15’000m). Son armement est d’un canon rotatif de 20 mm Vulcan M61A2 et de 11 charges externes.

l’engagement des F/A-18E et des F/A-18F Super Hornet survient à partir d’Octobre 2014 avec le conflit au Moyen-Orient contre l’État Islamique où il sera utilisé comme appareil de reconnaissance avec l’appui de drone. Ce n’est qu’en juin 2017 que le premier appareil abattu par un Super Hornet est enregistré avec un Su-22 Syriens. Cette victoire est la première victoire américaine en combat aérien contre un engin piloté depuis 1999.

En termes de culture générale, l’appareil apparaît en 2001 dans le film “En Territoire Ennemi” de John Moore où il est abattu par un missile 9k35 Strela-10 (appeler SA-13 Gopher par l’OTAN), puis dans Independence Day où Will Smith et Harry Connick Jr. Sont pilotes de F/A-18 et pour finir avec les films, dans Top Gun : Maverick en 2022 où ils sont mis à l’honneur, remplaçant les célèbres F-14 Tomcat du 1er film. Il apparaît aussi dans le Roman “Lions of the Sky” de l’auteur, mais aussi ancien pilote dans l'aéronavale Franscesco “Paco” Chierici qui raconte l’histoire de pilotes de F/A-18F qui seront élèves puis instructeurs tout en étant plus tard affectés au Strike Fighter Squadron 213 (VFA-213).

[theinfamousdoctorf]

[Moon] How much cream do you want? [Eclipse] Make it the same color as Sun's fingers. [Sun] Dramatic gopher but his shoulders don't move. [Sun] I mean… it's kinda romantic? [Eclipse] Will Smith gesturing to wife at the awards meme

[lizard-speed]

back to being insane about gopher smith

[aotearoa20]

Fifteen questions for fifteen (ish) mutuals! Thank you for tagging @shoelace-eating-gopher💜💜💜

1. Are you named after anyone? Yep! First name from my granny and second from a friend of my dad’s

2. When was the last time you cried? I watched elemental… I cry during most movies though

3. Do you have kids? Nope

4. Do you use sarcasm? yes, not as much as I used to though

5. What sports do you play/have you played? Swimming and Netball, both before I started uni

6. What is the first thing you notice about people? Hair, i think?

7. What’s your eye colour? brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings? happy endings:) Though love a good scary movie with a happy ending

9. Any special talents? Not since primary school

10. Where were you born? London

11. What are your hobbies? writing fanfiction, cross stitch sometimes, had a drawing phase in lockdown that flares up time to time

12. Do you have any pets? Not yet:(

13. How tall are you? 168cm, crucially shorter than all my younger siblings

14. Favourite subject in school? English and History:)

15. Dream job? Love to write a book someday

Thanks again tagging!!! And if you’ve not already been tagged @belegsredboots, @timid-booklover-in-a-corner, @glorf1ndel, @blueflipflops, @annoyinglandmagazine, @noldorin-smith m, @defenestratethecat No pressure as always:)

[calritchie21]

blurb idea- one of the gopher boys made noelle cry over something bad freshman year and logan and ryan (and jimmy) are VERY unhappy

it was one of the senior boys who knew nothing about noelle’s past (he was a grad tranfer from another school)

so when noelle was walking about the facility trying to find her brother or her boyfriend, he basically pounced on her saying “if you are looking for chesley or cooley they don’t want you here, you aren’t supposed to be here and everyone is tired of you being a baby and crying to them. you can barely speak and it’s quiet embarrassing for a 18 year old.” Jimmy overheard as he was walking and was not happy

“what the fuck did you say?” jimmy asks pulling Noelle to him

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you told her nobody cares for her and she’s useless basically, do you know how wrong that is to tell someone that.” he yells covering up noelle’s ears, ryan and logan and some of the boys came out

“what’s going on, why is my baby crying.” ryan asks confused

“Smith (made up name for this) told noelle she was basically useless and can’t speak and nobody cares for her.” jimmy tells him, ryan grows angry same with logan

“you don’t ever disrespect my family including my sister, she is not useless and does not have a speech problem.” logan seethed grabbing onto the collar of smiths shirt “if i ever see you near her again i will hurt you, you know nothing about her.”

[vinylarchavist]

Disneyland Record ST-3928: Walt Disney's Story of Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree

The Disneyland Record ST-3928, titled Walt Disney's Story of Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, is a 12-inch vinyl LP released in May 1965 by Disneyland Records, the original name of Walt Disney Company's record label established in 1956. This album is a storyteller adaptation of the 1966 animated featurette Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, released before the film's premiere to promote the Disney franchise based on A.A. Milne's beloved children's stories

Details of the Record

Title and Catalog Number: Walt Disney's Story of Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree (ST-3928)

Release Year: May 1965

Content: The album is a narrated adaptation of the 1966 featurette Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, featuring Sterling Holloway as the voice of Winnie the Pooh, Sebastian Cabot as the narrator, and other voices including Junius Matthews (Rabbit), Howard Morris (Gopher), Hal Smith (Owl), John Fiedler (Piglet), Bruce Reitherman (Christopher Robin), Barbara Luddy (Kanga), Clint Howard (Roo), Ralph Wright (Eeyore), and Jimmy Macdonald, Ginny Tyler, and Dal McKennon (Bees). The choral songs feature B.J. Baker as a soloist with The Jack Halloran Singers. The album includes songs by Richard M. and Robert B. Sherman, such as “Winnie the Pooh,” “Up Down and Touch the Ground,” “Rumbly in My Tumbly,” “Little Black Rain Cloud,” “Mind Over Matter,” “Kanga’s Lullaby,” “The Rain Fell From the Blue,” and “The Sun Came Out.” It also contains additional material not in the final film, such as a deleted scene where Christopher Robin and the animals have a picnic while Pooh is stuck, and another where Kanga places a shawl around Pooh.

Physical Characteristics:

Format: 12-inch vinyl LP, 33 1/3 RPM, mono recording with an 11-page color picture book included in some editions.

Running Time: Approximately 29 minutes.

Label: Disneyland Records, typically with a yellow label. The artwork is noted as sketchy and rough compared to other Disney records, possibly due to rushed production.

Condition: Listings on eBay describe copies in Near Mint (NM or M-) condition for both the record and sleeve, with minimal wear. Some copies include the original 11-page book in Good to Very Good condition (8-9 out of 10).

Availability and Value: Available on secondary markets like eBay and Etsy, with prices varying by condition. For example, a Near Mint copy with the picture book is listed on eBay for around $20-$30 plus shipping. Copies without the book may be less expensive, starting at $10-$15 for used copies in Good condition.

Cultural Context: Released to promote the 1966 featurette, the album reflects Disney’s early adaptation of A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh stories, which began with the acquisition of film rights in 1961. The record’s use of a harpsichord, conducted by Tutti Camarata, gives it a distinctive, bouncy sound typical of 1960s Disney records. The inclusion of Tigger on the back cover, despite his absence from the film, was a notable error, later explained as a tease for future releases. The album’s steady sales contributed to the growth of the Winnie the Pooh franchise, now one of Disney’s most lucrative, valued at $3-$6 billion annually by 2003.

Additional Notes

Disneyland Records History: Founded in 1956, Disneyland Records released music tied to Disney properties and children’s entertainment, often producing albums in advance of film releases to build anticipation. By 1988, it was renamed Walt Disney Records. The ST-3928 catalog number places it in the Storyteller series, distinct from the DQ series (e.g., DQ-1256 10 Songs From Mary Poppins or DQ-1345 Candy Man), which focused on budget-friendly cover versions.

Comparison to Other Disney Records: Unlike DQ-1256, which features cover versions of Mary Poppins songs, ST-3928 is a narrative-driven album with original voice cast recordings and songs from the featurette, making it closer in style to a soundtrack. Compared to DQ-1345 Candy Man, which is a collection of children’s songs, ST-3928 is more directly tied to a specific Disney property, emphasizing the Winnie the Pooh franchise’s storytelling and character-driven appeal.

For further details, such as the complete tracklist or specific collector insights, check vinyl collector databases or contact sellers on platforms like eBay or Etsy.

[clarklovescarole]

September 1940: Cats Just Happened

September 2, 1940 - The Morning Union

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard plan to raise cattle on their four-acre ranch. They have four cattle – one to an acre – that are drilled to all turn at once so they won’t lock horns in the congestion. They may be dehorned. It is almost unnecessary to say Mr. Gable is in “Boom Town.” Almost everyone is. There are as many stars as he has cattle. 

September 3, 1940 - The Times

You can forget those rumors that Carole Lombard and Clark Gable are selling their ranch in the valley. To the contrary, they are going in for raising blooded cattle. Director Jack Conway has given them the nucleus for the herd.

September 6, 1940 - Two Rivers Reporter

Clark Gable and wife Carole Lombard off on a fishing joint to the High Sierras…

September 7, 1940 – The Mail

Carole Lombard critically examines a piece of film. Hollywood is critically examining Carole’s recent determination to sell her ranch home, trying to find if it suggests that her marriage with Clark Gable is showing signs of strain. General opinion is that it is not.

September 8, 1940 – Detroit Free Press

Hollywood, Sept. 7 – When you refer to Ma and Pa in another town, it could be anybody, but here in Hollywood it means Carole Lombard and Clark Gable. For when Clark visits Carole on set, he yells, “Hi, Ma!” and Carole screams back, “Pa, you old dog – what brought you here?”

Clark and Carole as a domestic couple lead a real life, slapstick comedy existence, with each trying to top the other with gags and practical jokes. Gable’s pet extravagance is block-long, low-slung motor cars, or, as Carole puts it: “Every time the Big Moose gets a couple of quarters to rub together, he’s got to buy another automobile.”

At any rate, Clark turned up a short while back with a very exaggerated low-slung roadster with a special body. It had no top and supported upholstery that seemed to curl from its innards like a Swiss roll.

This was more than the effervescent Mrs. G could take. She bought a motor scooter, had it painted the same color and upholstered in the same wild red leather. When Clark took his jazzy jalopy out the first day to drive with dignity down Hollywood Boulevard, he was horrified to see in his rearview mirror Carole putting along behind on the motor scooter.

This comic parade was all it took. Gable sold the car the next day!

September 14, 1940 - The Emporia Gazette 

CATS JUST HAPPENED

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard have just taken a census of the pets at their ranch. They find they now have five dogs and 14 cats. The dogs are all hunting dogs, but the cats, beginning with two to hunt gophers, just “assembled.”

September 18, 1940 – The Valley Daily Times News

Carole Lombard and Robert Montgomery will make their first appearance together in “Mr. and Mrs. Smith.“ Fans had hoped to see Carole and Clark Gable portray the Mr. and Mrs. roles…

September 18, 1940 – Columbia Daily Tribune

Josephine Dillon asks restoration of maiden name

By The Associated Press

To dispel any impression that she is attempting to trade on the famous name, Clark Gable’s first wife, Josephine Gable, is seeking a court order to have her maiden name restored.

She and Gable, now the husband of actress Carole Lombard, were divorced in 1930. Since then, her petition said, she has been required to use the Gable name in business dealings, creating “the impression that I was attempting to exploit the name, but the reverse is true.”

She is a voice and dramatic arts teacher. Her petition says she also lectures, makes radio appearances, and is a part-time Christian College faculty member at Columbia, Missouri.

September 19, 1940 - Evening World Herald

Harrison Carroll: Those Hollywood ribbers deluxe, Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, are at it again. Yesterday, Clark hired a political campaign truck and sent it to the Pathe studio where his blond film star wife was working in a picture. The truck carried a nine-foot sign which read: “Culver City welcomes Carole Lombard (Mrs. Rhett Butler).” 

It drove up to the sound stage where Carole was working. A phonograph attachment inside the truck started blaring music through a loudspeaker. Riding on the truck was Gable’s stand-in, Lou Smith, wearing striped trousers, cutaway and a handlebar mustache. He delivered a speech of welcome and then descended to present Carole with a bouquet of vegetables.

The star broke the company up when she yelled: “He’s got more ham in him than my old man!”

September 20, 1940 – Times The Picture Paper

Carole Lombard on the sick list with a bad cold. She had wanted to rest after “They Knew What They Wanted,” but her current assignment, “Mr. and Mrs. Smith,“ couldn’t wait. But now it must wait for her to recover. When this picture is over, she and Clark vacation in Honolulu…

September 20, 1940 – The Pittsburgh Press

The mention of Ambassador Joseph P Kennedy‘s name at Chasen’s the other night stirred Carole Lombard to recall: When the ambassador was head of the Pathe Studios in Hollywood and Carole, a tow-headed youngster, was just getting her start, he called her to his office one day and offered to elevate her to stardom.

“However,“ he barked, “you’ll have to reduce, young lady – 121 pounds are too much. We’ll send you to a masseuse.” Lombard looked him over carefully and barked back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, Mr. Kennedy. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll let a masseuse pound me, if you’ll let a masseur pound you. You need it worse than I do.” Next day, Mr. Kennedy took his daily dozen at the massage table. 

September 21, 1940 – Voice

Carole Lombard always has a good luck charm in her makeup box, but she changes the talisman from time to time. Clark Gable gave her the one she swears by now – a round, smooth pebble.

September 22, 1940 - The Bellingham Harold

Fred MacMurray, Clark Gable, and Carole Lombard, hunting doves in Bakersfield…

September 22, 1940 – The Pittsburgh Press

Pet census day at the Clark Gable-Carole Lombard ranch in San Fernando Valley showed five dogs and 14 cats.

Gable explains: “I opened the back door at feeding time the other evening and the yard was full of cats. I decided to take a count. The hired man said he thought they all were there, so I counted noses.”

While the cats are all of uncertain pedigree, the dogs comprise thoroughbred stock with two dachshunds, two pointers and a Labrador retriever. The last three are Gable’s hunting dogs.

September 23, 1940 – Los Angeles Evening Citizen News

Carole Lombard is trying to get permission from the city to play a gag on Clark Gable in return for a rib he pulled on her last week. Lombard wants to hire an airplane and drop leaflets over the Metro sound stage where Gable is working. The leaflets would have only one word printed on them – “Parnell.”

September 23, 1940 – Daily News

Clark Gable says he can’t make the junket to New York when Carole Lombard, Charles Laughton, and others fly for the opening of “They Knew What They Wanted” because he has given Metro an extra month. Then, however, he and Mrs. G will head east on a long holiday… Probably for New England, which Carole has never seen. I tell him I saw Miss Lombard in his convertible the other day. “That,” he says, “is a story. I bought her a sedan and she wouldn’t use it. Said she felt like a banker or a Senator in it. So she took my car and I had to turn the sedan in on a little roadster.”

September 24, 1940 – Evening Vanguard

If you see the little blimp flying around with a banner “Remember Parnell,” it’s Carole Lombard’s idea of getting even with her husband. When she was working on the Pathe lot in the picture, “Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” last week, Clark had a banner swung across the entrance reading, “Welcome, Lombard to Culver City” – this is her answer. 

September 24, 1940 - Joplin Globe

What’s this about Carole Lombard, after an association of 10 highly profitable years, breaking business relations with her agent, Myron Selznick, amidst fireworks threats?...

September 24, 1940 – Wilmington Daily Press Journal

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard are a-hunting for ducks in Utah…

September 25, 1940 – The Times

Clark Gable and wife Carole Lombard entertaining the clergy man who performed their wedding ceremony at Kingman, Arizona…

September 25, 1940 - The Waco News Tribune

Wot’s this about Clark Gable and Carole Lombard mulling plans to finance their own production company?

September 26, 1940 – Kenosha News

Contrary to reports that they are selling their Encino Ranch, Clark Gable, and Carole Lombard will begin raising cattle on the property, having been presented with four pedigreed animals by Director Jack Conway.

Because they are unable to realize a price on their citrus fruits that will pay expenses, they will henceforth give all their oranges above their own needs to the children’s hospitals, Gable disclosed.

The yield from their truck garden and fruit trees this year has been far beyond expectations, necessitating the purchase of a light truck in addition to their station wagon. After giving away produce to all their relatives, they still had more than they could use themselves and will donate that surplus to hospitals also.

September 29, 1940 – The Atlantic Constitution

They Don’t Pose Together

They have a working agreement between the movie Mr. and Mrs. not to hog each other’s publicity.

Hence, it is seldom you ever see Mr. and Mrs. Movie Stars photograph together. One reason is the Mr. usually works at one studio and the Mrs. at another.

However, every now and then one star was working while the other is on vacation. When that happens, it is not unusual for the vacationing star to wander over to watch his or her mate going through the histrionics.

Such was the case recently when Clark Gable dropped in to watch wifey Carole Lombard on the “They Knew What They Wanted” set at RKO. The photographer kidded Mr. and Mrs. Gable into posing together with Director Garson Kanin for a publicity photo. Therefore, we have one of the few poses of the No. 1 married couple of Hollywood.

September 29, 1940 – Lansing State Journal

Gable Gets Blame, Bans Auto Gadget

When Clark Gable had his sports automobile revamped to fit in with his hunting plans, it was outfitted with two exterior exhaust pipes which purred with a contented murmur when on the open highway.

Carole Lombard, his wife, drove the car between the city and the Gables’ Valley ranch the other day. She returned with a sigh of relief of getting back safely. Twice, she reported, motorcycle officers had stopped here about that powerful murmur.

“Both times,” she said, “I got out of it. I said, ‘I’ve got nothing to do with those old pipes; it’s all the fault of my husband.’” Gable has removed them.

September 30, 1940 – Detroit Free Press

Clark Gable, after playing love scenes with Hedy Lamarr all morning, returns to his dressing room to think of gags to play on wife Carole Lombard. What a man!

September 30, 1940 – Record Journal

DEVOTED PAIR: You have to get a still camera shot of Carole Lombard and Clark Gable to see them in one picture together, and here it is. They are shown during one of Clark’s visits to Mrs. Gable while the latter was working “They Knew What They Wanted“ with Charles Laughton.