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aintashes · 3 days

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how have his childhood & adolescent experiences impacted the relationships he forms in adulthood? (:

send me questions you have about daryl — currently accepting !

oooh, this is such a good question and it's a topic i love to talk about ! thank you so much for letting me ramble about this, lmao !

this is also going to have to be under a read more, because it is a massive behemoth of a post. proceed with caution and bear in mind triggers for child abuse, neglect, death / grief, etc !

so... we all know that daryl was abused and neglected as a child ( by his mother, father, and brother ), as a teen ( by his father and brother ), and well into his adulthood ( by his brother and the type of company he kept ). there's no question about it, and the severity of the abuse he endured has definitely had a massive influence on the way he navigates his adult relationships.

you can see him struggle a ton with this while merle is still alive in the first 3 seasons of the show. merle makes daryl feel like he's all daryl has—

because family, kin, blood, comes before all else, right? it doesn't matter how much i abused you growing up and still abuse you now, because i'm your big brother and i know what's best for you, always. i spent years trying to make a man of you, so you owe me something. you're worthless without me and you have been since you were born. i'm older, i'm wiser, i always protected you even though i abandoned you at the drop of a hat every time i could to get away from the man we both suffered under our whole lives. i'm the only one who cares about you. nobody else will ever care about you. just me.

—and it's to the point where daryl literally leaves people who are better for him in every way in order to rough it on his own with merle. even when daryl decides that enough is enough, that he'd rather go be with people who appreciate him and give him a much better life, he still lets merle come back with him ( despite his awful behavior while they're on their own, such as merle's aggression with the family on the bridge ). he tells rick that if the group wants daryl to stay, then they must accept merle back into the fold even if they don't like him.

the degree to which daryl is so easily manipulated by his brother is astounding, but that's how that kind of abuse goes. they make you feel worthless, like you're nothing without them, like they made you the person you are and that you should be grateful to them— and if you ever try to leave them, to detach yourself from their hold over you, they make you feel like you're the piece of shit who doesn't care; like you are the one who's done wrong, not them.

and it leads into daryl being easily manipulated by people like rick, for example. there are countless times throughout the show where daryl does as rick asks of him even though he vehemently disagrees and / or doesn't want to, and every single time there's an overarching theme of do this because i need you to. because we're family, and that's what family does for one another. it's very much the same sentiment that merle instilled in daryl from a young age, and it's something that rick has literally seen merle to do daryl before but it's still something he chooses to knowingly repeat. it's a dynamic that becomes even more interesting the more daryl refers to rick as his brother ( and i could go on about this forever, but this post isn't just about the way that rick treats daryl. that can come sometime later ).

but then there are people like carol— daryl's best friend above all others from the very beginning. the woman he would do anything for. you don't have to look too deeply into their relationship to understand that part of the reason they get along so well is because of their similar backgrounds of abuse and neglect. even after years and years, the fact that their tight bond began and persisted because of their traumas is still referenced ( in season 10 ep 1, daryl's quote: sometimes i think we're just surviving one fight to the next. / and carol's response: it was like that for you and me before all this ).

i think it's important to acknowledge how daryl's history and experiences play so hard into the bonds he makes with other trauma survivors ( specifically trauma pre-outbreak, because yeah, everyone suffers horrific traumas once the dead begin to walk ). it carries over into his relationships with people like leah ( see this post for my thoughts on their relationship and why it's strictly platnoic ) and with lydia.

lydia is actually a really big one, too, because she's the most prevalent example of an abused child / teenager who daryl can bond with and who he sees himself in. during the time that he meets and gets to know lydia, however, he's in a position where he's more healed and has let go of much of his past life. it lets him relate to her, but it also lets him reach out to her. help her. show her that she doesn't have to stick by the side of someone who is / was atrociously abusing her. it goes back to him choosing merle over the people who actually cared for him— lydia is sort of an opportunity for daryl to come full circle and show the audience just how much he has healed in a lot of different ways ( even though he does still display some aggressive and stubborn behaviors. this is daryl we're talking about, after all ).

moving on, i can't talk about how daryl's past impacts his relationships without talking about his guilt and shame. this could be a whole separate post in itself because there's just so much to it, but i feel like it needs to be at least touched on here.

i believe it goes without saying that guilt and shame are two very large parts of what makes childhood trauma so debilitating. there's an air of responsibility that comes with it, like you need to set aside your own needs and dissociate from them in order to do and be what others need you to do and be ( people-pleasing ). and a lot of times, the guilt comes in when you push yourself so far that you break.

some examples of this are: not being able to find / save sophia, especially with her being another abused child and after he felt like the only person who cared enough besides her own mother to go looking for her; not being able to save beth at grady memorial after she became such a good friend to him in their solo travels after the tragedy of the prison falling; being taken advantage of by dwight, which eventually results in denise's death and daryl running off to go find him ( which then further results in michonne, rosita, and glenn being captured alongside him by the saviors and ending up being included in negan's lineup ).

the common thread between all of these events is that daryl feels like he's let his people down. maggie even has to pull him aside after he escapes the saviors to tell him that glenn's death was not his fault, and that he doesn't need to carry that shame with him.

and then there's the guilt he feels surrounding his reactivity throughout the show: for example, when daryl is tasked with leading their people away from the saviors after the fall of alexandria, he gets in tara's face for letting dwight go. his outburst frightens judith, which is perhaps the only thing that stops him from continuing to escalate. this leads into his shame surrounding children in general, as well— he is good with kids, as evidenced by his uncle daryl status with judith and rj, but one of the main themes of his time as their acting parent later in the show is that he has no idea what he's doing. he's never had a frame of reference for what actual good parenting looks like, and he constantly asks himself what rick would do instead of trusting in himself that he won't turn out to be what his own father was.

to make a very long story much, much shorter... the way that daryl's family treated him at large before the outbreak culminates in: intense trust issues; self-sacrificial behavior; people-pleasing; poor emotional regulation / reactivity; self-doubt / self-loathing; a deep fear of abandonment, yet the need for extreme emotional distance from others; dissociation from personal needs; feelings of unworthiness when it comes to relationships; struggles with emotional intimacy; hypervigilance; avoidant behaviors; confusion and unsettling feelings surrounding close relationships; and more.

it's also worth it to note that daryl does work through these feelings and trauma responses throughout the show ! you can see how much progress he makes as he gets closer to people in the group and how much he really begins to blossom into his own person without the influence of his old life hanging over him.

there are so many other things i could have mentioned, too. i didn't mention how daryl's trademark quiet nature is in itself fueled by his trauma ( what has talking ever gotten him? most likely, a beating ). how his willingness to sacrifice himself for the people he loves comes, in part, from his past.

and to that point, i never mentioned how daryl's physical body and the things he went through as a child and adolescent shape the way he interacts with people. how he shies away from physical touch until much, much later in the show. how his bodily autonomy is almost always in question ( and if you're curious about that, i have a post on it here ) and how every piece of his body has been used over and over again, down to the very blood in his veins being sold for money as a child.

i also didn't dive into how he's such a good judge of character that it's literally spelled out for you and mentioned countless times throughout the show, but that when he's faced with one of his abusers asking him to go away with him, he does it even though merle is a terrible, awful, horrific, piece of shit person— which just goes to show you how deeply ingrained the trauma bond between him and merle really was. and, beyond that, how trust issues because of childhood trauma made it so difficult to really put his faith in the group when merle was in his ear telling him that daryl didn't need them. that they didn't actually care about him at all.

i never even got into his older brother-little sister relationship with beth, and how she was the first person to help him let go of a huge piece of his old life by burning down the old shack. and i didn't talk about how easily he's able to talk about merle when he tells connie the story about the boat.

all in all, there are countless ways in which daryl's childhood and adolescent experiences impact his adult relationships. so many that there are still more than this, but i feel like i have to stop now because this has gotten so long ! thank you so much for the question !!

#over and out. ( answered )#othunderous #memes. ( answered )#details. ( daryl dixon )#abuse //#child abuse //#child neglect //#death //#grief //

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kennysbirthday · 1 year

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Blinding Lights

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“You’re being very touchy-feely, George. Are you worried about me?” he joked, and Lucy’s eyes followed the blush creeping up George’s neck and ears.

“Oh, shut it. What was it you said at Kensal Green? ‘It’s a medical necessity; it doesn’t mean a thing.’” George quoted, but there was no cruelty there, and he made no move to move his hands.

(Judging by the look on George’s face and the abundance of lingering touches, Lucy guessed it did mean something, but the emotionally-constipated boy just didn’t want to admit it.)

Lockwood gets a migraine, and George knows how to help. Lucy follows his lead.

The post-job routine proceeded as normal, just as it always did, when the door of 35 Portland Row was shoved open and three knackered agents spilled into the hallway. Shoes were kicked off, rapiers were deposited in the umbrella stand, and questions of “cuppa?” were passed from agent to agent with nods of agreement in varying energies before the trio squeezed their way through the hall and split to tidy themselves up.

Lockwood, the unlucky bugger who had gotten the brunt of that evening’s grave dirt deposited on him, headed straight for the shower, while Lucy took the stairs to the attic two at a time, desperate to get out of her rain-sodden tights and jumper. George, last to separate, moved towards the kitchen to make a start on their tea and snacks, towelling his curls as he went.

All in all, a regular night in the Portland Row house.

George could have kicked himself for not noticing the subsequent deviations sooner. He wanted to snap at Lucy, ask her why she didn’t pick up on the signs too, but he had to cut her some slack; she hadn’t been at Portland Row even half as long as George. She hadn’t learned how to notice those subtle tells of Lockwood’s.

The first indication that something wasn’t right came from Lockwood’s hair. No matter the time of day, or if he was bounding down the steps in a suit and tie or his comfy pyjamas, Lockwood had the particular habit of always blow-drying his hair before he left his room. On more than one occasion, George had found himself awoken at a stupid hour by the familiar whirr of Lockwood’s old hairdryer (that he’d learned once belonged to Jessica, and was astounded that it hadn’t packed in or simply exploded by now, given it’s age). It never bothered George, though. If anything, he found himself comforted by the sound; hairdryer noise meant Lockwood had showered, and that, in turn, proved he was still in a well-enough headspace.

The second clue wasn’t as discernible if you didn’t know what to look for. But George; attentive, observant George, had years of living with Lockwood under his belt - and he knew from experience that the other boy was a self-proclaimed prodigy when it came to the fine art of dunking biscuits into a cup of tea. Through years of miscalculations and mishaps (and some fervent note taking on the Thinking Cloth that had made George’s little research-loving heart sing), Lockwood had mastered the perfect timings for submerging each different biscuit type into his tea, managing to pull them out just at the right time before they broke and slumped to the bottom of the mug.

As he watched Lockwood’s digestive disintegrate sadly and plop into his drink without so much as a blink from the boy, he knew that something was definitely amiss.

The third sign (and the most telling, in George’s eyes) was the simple fact that Lockwood was sitting quietly.

This in itself wouldn’t have been a strange sight, but paired with the first two observations and the knowledge that that evening’s job had gone better than planned, he was quite honestly surprised that Lockwood wasn’t peacocking around the kitchen and crowing about how his quick-thinking and superior rapier skills had saved the day once again. Because he had saved them all at the last minute - Lucy had been blindly scrambling in the dirt with George as they searched for the source, while Lockwood kept the Spectre at bay and managed to drive it far enough back so that Lucy could cover the finger bones unearthed by Lockwood’s shoes in a silver net. Yes, he’d lost his balance almost immediately afterwards and landed in the dirt with a heavy thump, almost smacking both of them with his flailing limbs - but he’d done so with laughter on his lips and his sunglasses sitting crookedly on his nose, despite the breath being knocked out of him as he fell. He’d been high on both adrenaline and their victory, the recognition of a job well done and the assured safety of his teammates banishing any exhaustion from his body as he let the rain fall on his face.

Lucy had noticed the change in Lockwood’s demeanour too (though her observations weren’t as astute as George’s), and she couldn’t help but compare the Lockwood from earlier in the evening to the one propped sadly at the table now. He’d started sitting upright, smiling with his hand curled loosely around the steaming mug of tea, but as the early hour stretched on he’d slumped forward more and more until his head was pillowed on the table by his arms, one pushing his hair up every which way and the other hand pressing his thumb into the point between his nose and his right eyebrow. The mug sat forlornly next to him, tea left to go cold.

“Lockwood? You alright?” Lucy asked. All she got was a muffled groan and a half-hearted thumbs up in response. Concerned, her eyes flicked to George, who was staring at Lockwood with a calculating look on his face.

“When did the migraine start, mate?” he asked, and Lockwood’s seemed to sag in… not quite relief, but comfort, almost. His attempt to hide his pain had not gone unnoticed, and he didn’t have to keep up the false pretence anymore.

“In the cab home. Thought the shower would help, it usually does.”

“So, about an hour ago, give or take?”

“Have we been home that long already?” he mumbled into his elbow.

George shook his head in fond exasperation, scribbling down something on the Thinking Cloth. “You were in the shower for almost half an hour. Any longer and Lucy would have been kicking down the door and yelling about you using all the hot water.”

“And checking you hadn’t managed to wash yourself down the plughole somehow,” she added with a soft smile. She leant over to see what George had written - some approximate timings, obviously so he could track the length of the migraine. “But yes; also yelling about the hot water usage. We all need to shower, you know.”

George got to his feet and moved to stand behind Lockwood, immediately reaching out to start massaging his neck and shoulders, deft hands working in methodical and clearly habitual motions. Lockwood visibly relaxed, and let out a small sigh.

“Do you want some black tea? The caffeine might help a little,” George asked. He responded with a slight nod and a quiet noise of affirmation. However, when George moved to go and refill the kettle, one of Lockwood’s hands frantically grasped his own, stopping him. George huffed out a laugh, lips ghosting over the crown of Lockwood’s head. “Can’t make it if you won’t let me go.”

“Lucy can do it. Don’t stop, please, this is actually helping,” he all but begged, voice muffled by his arms.

“Oh, I can, can I?” Lucy said incredulously, but was already halfway across the kitchen and reaching for the kettle with a smile. His cold tea was poured down the sink before she gave the mug a quick rinse.

“I know it helps, that’s why I’m doing it.” George told him in a matter-of-fact tone, tangling his fingers in the short hairs at the nape of Lockwood’s neck. “No need to sound so surprised. ’S not like I’ve nursed you through dozens of these post-job migraines, or anything.”

“Oh, don’t word it like that, George… ‘Nursed’ makes it sound weirder than it is. Sounds like you should have a little hat, or something.”

“You’re the one making it weird, imagining me in an outfit like that,” he gently flicked Lockwood’s ear, but didn’t move away.

They stayed that way for a short time, a blanket of calm quietness filling the kitchen as George massaged Lockwood’s neck while Lucy fussed with the kettle and teabags. Once the kettle had popped and she’d mixed together his preferred ratio of milk and honey, she gently placed the mug down on the Thinking Cloth, tapping Lockwood’s outstretched hand to get his attention. “Tea’s ready.”

“You’re a gem, Lucy Carlyle,” he beamed as he pulled himself back into an upright sitting position. George's hands lingered for a moment, a look of worry flickering briefly across his face before it was replaced by a relaxed grin as he glanced across at her. She smiled softly back, her cheeks warming.

As her gaze slipped away from George, Lucy couldn’t help but stare, fascinated by the subtle shifts in Lockwood’s expression. She’d vehemently deny it if you ever asked her, but she’d found herself staring at his face more and more recently when she thought he wasn’t looking. As such, she had begun to recognise the minute differences that hinted at his feelings, no matter how hard he tried to hide them. The briefest scrunch of his nose, the way his brow furrowed as he opened his eyes and blinked slowly at the light, the smile that didn’t quite light up his face the way the prospect of danger or a good challenging case did; all these small things painted the broader picture of Lockwood’s pain, and she knew George could sense it too.

It reminded her a little of Norrie. She’d always hidden her death glow-induced headaches behind a smile or a scowl when she was with the lot from Jacobs’, and only let her guard down when she was alone in her room, face-planted on her bed and thanking Lucy for helping her home. Lucy had spent enough time with her to recognise the twitch in Norrie’s eyebrow and the slight grinding of her teeth which signalled an impending migraine attack. She had been like Lockwood; an incredibly gifted seer, but Lucy knew his Sight far surpassed anything Norrie could sense, and so could only imagine how much worse a migraine would be for him.

As Lockwood sipped his tea, George’s hands resumed their ministrations on his shoulders. The three of them sat in relative silence, broken only by the sounds of tea being slurped, when suddenly Lockwood piped up:

“You’re being very touchy-feely, George. Are you worried about me?” he joked, and Lucy’s eyes followed the blush creeping up George’s neck and ears.

(Judging by the look on George’s face and the abundance of lingering touches, Lucy guessed it did mean something, but the emotionally-constipated boy just didn’t want to admit it.)

Before she could interrupt with a teasing remark of her own, Lockwood let out a quiet groan. Two sets of worried eyes were on him in an instant.

“I’m okay,” he grimaced, clutching his head. George scoffed.

“No you bloody well are not, mate. Room started spinning?” He asked with a smirk, before picking up the pen and noting down some more notes on the Thinking Cloth.

“… Maybe.”

Lucy bit back a grin at the sight of them. She felt like she was witnessing something often unseen; a side to them that both boys did their best to hide from the public eye behind snarky words and cheshire grins. George, with his casual and soft touches; Lockwood, sans his mask of unflappability.

“I think we should all call it a night. We can leave the dishes ’til morning, right George?”

Though George did not want to agree, he finally relented when he saw the pitiful look on Lockwood’s face. He hauled himself upright with a weary sigh, and Lockwood visibly deflated at the loss of George’s hands in his hair. “I suppose we can do them after breakfast. Bedtime?”

“Bed sounds heavenly.” Lockwood agreed, wincing as he opened his eyes and promptly slammed them shut again.

“Think you can walk it?”

Lockwood nodded gently. “If I keep my eyes closed. I think adding the light to the movement will just make the nausea worse.”

George nodded too, before remembering Lockwood couldn’t see him. “Good. It’s been a long night, and poor Lucy looks in no state to fireman-carry you up those stairs.”

“Ah, who said I’d be the one carrying him?”

“I have the upper body strength of a wet spaghetti strand, and Lockwood has received enough bruises this evening. He doesn’t need me dropping him back down the stairs or bumping his head off the bannister,” George snorted, and Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image too.

“We’d be the one getting bruises from his lanky arse. I don’t know what’s sharper; my rapier, or his elbows!”

“I am right here, you know,” Lockwood mumbled, interrupting their laughter as he moved to push himself to his feet. Though he tried to hide his wince being his usual megawatt grin, they still noticed it in the draw of his shoulders.

“Up you get, then. Lucy, get his other arm, will you?” George swooped in and looped Lockwood’s arm over his shoulder. “I’m not having him avoid getting ghost touched only to end up in the hospital anyway ‘cause he’s collapsed and cracked his head off the corner of the kitchen table.”

“Oh, come off it, George. I’d be way more dignified than that. I’d swoon dramatically and pass out on the kitchen tiles, at the very least,” he argued back. “Giving myself an admirable concussion as I went.” Lucy pinched his arm. Lockwood squawked in indignation, swatting blindly at her hand.

“Alright, enough of the pain and aguish talk. One foot in front of the other, Lockwood, or we’re leaving you to sleep on the bleedin’ tiles,” she told him sternly, but with no malice weighing down the words. Lockwood looked like he was genuinely considering it - at least the tiles would be cool against his aching head. “You ready, Georgie?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he murmured. “Off we go, then.”

It took them a moment to find their footing, what with Lockwood towering over the two of them and neither of their footsteps quite falling in sync, but they managed to shuffle awkwardly towards the stairs like some drunken, lumbering six-legged beast without accumulating any injuries. The real worry, Lucy thought, would be getting Lockwood up the stairs without him tumbling back down. He’d already taken a few knocks on the job that evening and despite all their jokes about concussions, Lucy would much rather avoid a trip to A&E.

To her surprise though, it was no trouble at all. Even with his eyes closed, Lockwood’s feet seemed to instinctively find the stairs and climb them without too much bother, and it dawned on Lucy then that he and George had done this numerous times before. Of course they had. They’d lived together all this time, and it was like George had mentioned earlier - this wasn’t the first post-job migraine George had helped him with. She could suddenly visualise the two of them stumbling in after a job, keeping each other upright as they followed the familiar actions through before effortlessly arriving at Lockwood’s bedroom, no issues whatsoever.

If anything, she was the one disturbing their well-polished routine.

As they reached the first landing, Lucy disentangled herself from the boys and took a step back. George raised an eyebrow, and even Lockwood’s head tilted towards her in an obvious question, arm flopping at his side without Lucy there. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just goin’ to grab some painkillers from the bathroom cabinet, you go on ahead. You’ll manage, right?” she told them, despite knowing they’d be completely fine without her, if their footwork on the stairs was anything to go by. “I’ll meet you up there?”

“Sure, nothing we haven’t done before. Bring a glass of water, too,” George shrugged without argument (just as she’d suspected), before continuing up the stairs with Lockwood. She watched them go, noting how they seemed to fall in sync as soon as she stepped away, George’s arm looping around Lockwood’s waist to steady him, drawn like a magnet as if it had always meant to rest there. She ducked into the bathroom with a strangely bitter taste in her mouth.

She flung the mirrored cabinet open without preamble, rooting around until she found the painkillers and stuffing them into her pocket. She spotted some cooling pads, and so they went into her pocket, too. She remembered how Norrie used to have a ridiculous amount of them dotted around her room, never all in one place, because everything in Norrie’s room was as scattered as her personality. She’d lie face down on her bed; directing Lucy with her voice, telling her “there’s one in the second drawer, I think- wait, no, I used that one. Try under the book. What do you mean what book? The only book on the desk! That’s a notepad, not a book, c’mon, Carlyle! See, knew you could do it!”, and crying gleefully as Lucy lobbed the packet across the room at her with a huff. There was no such thing as neatness in the White home, only organised chaos, and Lucy loved it.

God, she missed Norrie.

Shaking her head slightly as if to physically shake away the memories, Lucy left the bathroom and headed back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before climbing the stairs to Lockwood’s room, painkillers and cooling pad safely tucked in her pocket. She could hear the sound of the boys arguing from above - Lockwood clearly just wanting to climb into bed and pass out, while George insisted he wait a few more minutes for Lucy to arrive with the painkillers, knowing he’d sleep much better without the constant pounding behind his eyes.

By the time she joined them, George had somehow wrangled Lockwood into actually crawling under his duvet instead of just starfishing on top of it, and she was left looking at a very familiar scene as Lockwood lay with his face smushed into his pillows in a vain attempt to block out the light. She knocked gently on the doorframe and called out; “Delivery!”

“Oh look, Arif’s new girl has appeared,” George grinned, and jostled Lockwood’s shoulder to get his attention. Lucy chucked the packet of painkillers at him, hitting him square in the chest. “Oi, what was that for?”

“Your cheek.”

“You didn’t hit my cheek though, you hit my chest.”

“Obviously, she meant your cheekiness, not your actual physical cheek,” Lockwood’s voice interrupted their bickering, the noise dampened by his pillow.

“No shit, Sherlock,” George sighed as he popped two painkillers out of the packet and made a grabby-hand motion in Lucy’s direction as he spoke. “C’mon, sit up, Lucy’s brought the water. Once you’ve drank it, you can lie down and you won’t have to move again for the rest of the night.”

“Promise?”

“Jesus, what are you? Five?”

“And three-quarters,” he smirked, but obediently sat upright, the duvet pooling around his waist as he patted the empty spot beside him not occupied by George. Lucy pressed the glass into his hand as George passed him the painkillers.

“I can feel the two of you staring,” he huffed, eyes still shut tight as he drank.

“What can I say, we’re attentive nursemaids. Now drink the whole glass, I’ll go refill it for you.” Lucy told him sternly.

A maddening grin crept over his face. “Oh, so you’re a nurse now, too? I’m so lucky to have Nurses Karim and Carlyle at my beck and call; little hats and all.”

“Any more comments like that and I’ll pour the next glass over your head.”

“Alright, message received and understood.” He held his arms up in surrender, but the grin remained, even as he handed the glass to Lucy, their fingers brushing as he blindly searched for her hand. One he was sure she had it safely in her grip, he flopped backwards onto his pillows and brought one arm back up, resting it over his eyes to block out the light again.

“I’ll be back in a moment, I’m just gonna refill the glass,” she told the two boys, before padding silently back down to the kitchen. By the time she returned, someone (she assumed George) had turned the bedside lamp off, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the gloominess of the room. It wasn’t totally dark though, as the light from the hallway spilled in and illuminated the bed and the mess of the floor and desk.

Lockwood had shifted to lie on his side, and George had crawled under the covers too, she noted; he was settled behind the taller boy, practically spooning him, and he’d resumed the gentle massaging of Lockwood’s shoulders. Another component of their Lockwood-has-a-migraine routine she was imposing on? She bit down on her tongue, leaden and coated with the bitter taste she’d felt in the bathroom. Why did she care, anyway?

Lockwood groaned and adjusted the angle he was sprawled at, trying to avoid the light from the hall, so she quickly flicked the hallway light switch, shut the door, and gingerly picked her way across the floor in the darkness. Her hip bumped into the corner of the desk and she tripped over what she thought might be one of Lockwood’s shoes, but she made it over to the bed without spilling a single drop of water, and she inwardly applauded herself.

“I’ve put the glass on the bedside table. C’mon, move your arm,” she reached for him as she pulled the cooling patch out of her pocket. George moved back, allowing Lockwood room to roll over on to his back once more. She squinted for a few seconds, trying to find the correct corner to tear the packet open in the dim light of the ghost lamps from behind the curtains, and he flinched when she pushed his hair off his forehead, not expecting the touch. It was awkward, but she managed to place the sticky pad on without catching too many stray hairs.

“Thank you,” he huffed with relief as she smoothed his hair back down, ruffling it gently. “Both of you.”

“Can tell you’re proper ill, mate. I’ve never seen you give less of a fuck about your hair than you do right now,” George sat up slightly, his head propped up by his arm.

“It’s going to be an absolute state in the morning,” Lucy chuckled, and tossed the empty packet in what she hoped was the general direction of the bin.

“Never mind the morning, it’s an absolute state right now!”

“Yes, alright, enough talk about my fantastic hair,” Lockwood grumbled. “Concentrating on conversation is hard, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to slip into unconsciousness now so I don’t have to.”

“If only it was this easy to shut you up on a regular day-” George started, but was cut off by a gentle smack against his chest.

“Shh. Quiet time now, George.”

“Fine. Rub your own shoulders next time, dickhead,” George sneered. But despite his harsh words, he didn’t make any move to pull away.

Lucy pursed her lips, the bitter taste (she wasn’t jealous, she couldn’t be, she wasn’t-) threatening to spill out from behind her teeth and stain the scuffed floor beneath her feet.

"I'm goin' to head upstairs-" she began, her grip tightening on the comforter before moving to stand, but Lockwood's pleading whisper cut through the darkness, wrapping around her head in a gentle caress and lodging itself in her throat. She swallowed audibly around the lump that appeared suddenly there.

“Please stay.”

She sat frozen for a good few moments, unsure how to respond. Had she heard him correctly?

His fingers gently enveloped her wrist, and she startled.

“Luce?”

On one hand, she wanted to promptly accept and climb under the blankets with the boys, assured in the knowledge that they were close, and safe, and everything would be okay come morning. On the other, she wanted to flee to her attic room and put as much distance between herself and the boys as possible; afraid of intruding on their little migraine routine they had carefully curated over the years, afraid of destroying their bubble of serenity, afraid of ruining everything.

It was George’s voice that made her decision, in the end.

“Come on, climb in. You know we’re no strangers to nightmares, and he’ll sleep better with you in here. You already know he usually sleeps with the light on, and he can’t do that when he’s like this, obviously.”

“George!” Lockwood groaned, but didn’t deny the other boy’s words. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Lucy. I shouldn’t have asked-”

“Shove over,” she interrupted, tugging the duvet up and scrambling under its warmth. “If I wake up and the two of you are hogging all the covers, there is going to be hell to pay.”

Lucy heard Lockwood’s smile more than she saw it. “That’s all George. He’s a fiend when it comes to sharing a duvet.”

“Not my fault you need a room to be practically sub-zero before you can fall asleep in it,” George lamented, and Lucy bit back a giggle.

“Wear some bloody trousers then, mate, and you won’t be so cold-”

“Oi, I thought you said it was quiet time? No more talking,” Lucy snipped, but the stern effect was ruined as she let out an embarrassingly loud yawn.

“Quiet time,” George parroted.

“Night, guys,” Lockwood mumbled, letting his pinkie finger gently brush against Lucy’s on the mattress between them as George’s hands returned to Lockwood’s shoulders. Her hand twitched, and she shuffled forward to link their fingers together and rest her forehead against his with a smile.

It wasn’t long until all three of their breaths evened out, and they drifted off as the gentle hum of the ghost lamps and the rain pattering against the window panes lulled them into slumber.

And if George was awoken by two sets of freezing cold feet on his bare legs the next morning as they tried to wrestle the duvet back from him, well - the promise of extra biscuits for them both impeded any further attacks on his shins.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood & co netflix #cot3 #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #jay writes things #what's this? me ACTUALLY WRITING SOMETHING?#shocking I know #I'm as surprised as you are

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 2 years

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Psycho Analysis: Vecna

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

I love Stranger Things, but there is one serious problem that has hampered it in its second and third seasons: Its lack of a compelling antagonist. The Mind Flayer spent an entire season not interacting with anyone and making its looming threat seem distant and impersonal, Max’s brother is just a minor antagonist in a Stephen King novel cranked up to 11, the Russians are inevitably the worst part of the show whenever they exist, and the shadowy government agencies are just so played out and boring at this point. If the show was going to continue with some epic storyline about world-ending cosmic horrors, they needed to put a face to the nightmares.

Well, they sure did put a face to it, and what a face our boy Vecna has.

This fleshy monstrosity is not just the main antagonist of this season, but of the entire series, as a bunch of revelations show the sheer scope of the evil this Freddy Krueger expy has brought into the world. And most important of all is, unlike every single other villain this show has tried to throw at us, Vecna actually has a personality.

Motivation/Goals: Vecna, to put it simply, fucking despises humanity. In his life as Henry Creel, he came to utterly resent humankind and view them as a disease, and boy did he ever decide he was gonna be the cure. It’s a pretty simple motivation to be sure, but it works for a wide variety of reasons, the most important being that Vecna never tries to hide behind any sort of tragic backstory and instead consistently asserts that he is simply above humanity and that it deserves to be eradicated. He’s just a legitimately horrible, evil monster.

Performance: You might remember Jamie Campbell Bower for the numerous times he has played a twink in popular fantasy films like The Twilight Saga and The Deathly Hallows, where he played the evil asshole Volturi Caius and the young Grindelwald, respectively. But evil as those roles may be, they were still simply bit parts compared to the meatier role of Vecna; thankfully, he was quite prepared to take on the role of a murderous sociopath with a hatred of humanity thanks to starring alongside Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd, which surely gave him plenty of experience with that subject matter. Bower absolutely knocks it out of the park, making Vecna into a horror icon for the ages. When he’s playing the role of the seemingly friendly orderly, his interactions with Eleven are creepy and uncomfortable, almost like he’s grooming her; as Vecna he’s no better, as he preys upon the trauma and insecurities of his victims and torments them to the point where they’re vulnerable for his psychic annihilation. Bower’s performance is astounding, but I guess that’s really what one should expect from Twilight alumni at this point.

Final Fate: Well, by the end of season 4 he’s pretty much completely victorious. He’s alive but weakened slightly, sure, but he devastated Hawkins, put Max into a coma, and got Eddie killed. Oh, yeah, and now the Upside Down is in the real world. Obviously they’re going to stop him in the final season, but the question is how?

Best Scene: Vecna gets a lot of good scenes throughout the season. Most notably, he gets to share the best scene in the entire show with Max as she flees him to the sound of Kate Bush.

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The initial reveal when he stalks Chrissy through her mind is atmospheric and incredible too, and it just reeks of the ceiling kill from A Nightmare on Elm Street. Just a beautiful introduction to the character.

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And personally, I love the scene where he’s giving his nihilistic motive rant to Eleven in the Hawkins lab right before she wastes him. Dude is laying out his hatred of humanity and giving an insane evil overlord rant to an actual child who probably doesn’t even know what half the words he’s saying mean. It’s truly a testament to Bower’s skill that he can pull such an absurd moment off.

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Best Quote: No, really, that rant he does is so fucking good. Look:

“Why do you cry for them, Eleven? After everything they did to you, hm? You think you need them, but you don't. You don't. Oh, but I know you're just scared. I was scared once, too. I know what it's like to be different. To be alone, in this world. Like you, I didn't fit in with the other children. Something was wrong with me, all the teachers and the doctors said I was... broken. They said. My parents thought a change of scenery, a fresh start in Hawkins, might just cure me. It was absurd. As if the world would be any different here! But then, to my surprise, our new home provided a discovery. And a newfound sense of purpose. I found a nest of Black Widows living inside a vent. Most people fear spiders... They detest them. And yet, I found them endlessly fascinating. More than that, I found a great comfort in them — a kinship. Like me, they are solitary creatures and deeply misunderstood. They are gods of our world. The most important of all predators. They immobilized and feed on the weak, bringing balance and order to an unstable ecosystem. But the human world was disrupting this harmony. You see, humans are a unique type of pest, multiplying and poisoning our world, all while enforcing a structure of their own. A deeply unnatural structure. Where others saw order, I saw a straight jacket. A cruel, oppressive world dictated by made up rules — seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, each life a faded, lesser copy of the one before! Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce and die! Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for it all to be over, all while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day. I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness, I could not pretend. Then I realized... I didn't have to. I could make my own rules. I could restore balance to a broken world — a predator, but for good.”

He is literally telling all this to a terrified child who just walked through a hallway of corpses and is likely still processing that. He is literally going off on a grade schooler. This is so funny but Bower is just so genuinely disturbing and unhinged here that it works.

Final Thoughts & Score: If there was ever a villain that proves even a simple, borderline cliché concept can work wonders with a fresh coat of paint, it would be Vecna.

Let’s be real here: Vecna ain’t that deep. He’s a misanthrope with a god complex who spouts off the most generic evil villain lines you can imagine and has a set of powers that seems like it came from the Supernatural Serial Killer Leftovers sale. There have been dozens of villains just like this guy throughout the history of film and television. But the thing is, despite (or even because of) this, Vecna still manages to be cool, fun, and memorable as a villain.

Most of the credit has to be given to Bower’s performance and the fantastic costume work. Being a mix of practical effects with a bit of CGI added to clean up and add a few tentacles here and there, Vecna looks absolutely fantastic, and Bower delivers each and every line with the sort of gusto one expects from a great villain actor. It is so important to remember that no matter how cliché dialogue is, a great actor can still sell it to you as if it were the finest Shakesperean writing you’ve ever heard, and right here Bower manages to show that he is indeed a great actor. Then there’s just the presentation, from how he kills, his backstory, his “IT WAS ME, BARRY!” moment where he reveals every problem in the show was always him, that goddamn grandfather clock… You’ll never hear a clock chime the same way again after seeing him. All the pieces just come together.

And then, finally, you have to remember what kind of show this is. Stranger Things is a big amalgamation of 80s tropes, so of course its big bad would fit that bill. It didn’t work last season when they tried to combine the Red Scare villains of 80s war films with The Terminator, but taking Freddy Krueger and ramping up the body horror while making him even more cold, cruel, and nihilistic than good ol’ Fred ever was in his first outing? It just works.

Vecna really is everything this show needed to thrive, and he honestly makes some of the lamer early villains better simply due to the fact they were merely his puppets. It helps, too, that when going back you can find hints that he truly was there all along; from the distorted clock sounds worked into music relating to the Upside Down going all the way back to season one to the implication via the use of psychic powers to open a door that it was him who kidnapped Will and set off the series, Vecna’s reach is incredible. Again, he’s not the deepest or most complex villain to ever be created, but he has something the other villains before him didn’t have: A Personality. And the big reveal that all those villains were nothing more than pawns, mere extensions of his will? Well, it makes them a lot more palatable.

Vecna is the villain we deserved all along, and probably one of my personal favorite villains. I’m a sucker for 80s slasher villains (Freddy and Jason my beloveds) and Vecna would fit right in with the freakish monstrosities of the era. I’m gonna give him a 9/10; I’m not giving him a perfect score, because there is a chance they could drop the ball with him in the final season, but I have faith Vecna is gonna come out as one of TV’s most spectacular villains.

#Psycho Analysis #Vecna #Stranger Things #jamie campbell bower

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omayovaomen · 6 months

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The letter no one ever read:

Hey Professor, I wanted to reach out after class yesterday.

I came to university to challenge my mind.

I did not come to university to agree with everyone and be nice (I had 10+ years of service industry experience teach me that), I did not come to be told how to think, I came to learn how to think-How to form my thoughts into something tangible. How to critically engage with other academics and be part of the solution for the new future that lies ahead of us.

The minute I admitted to disliking and having a critique of the book, you became defensive. You and the entire class shut me down; questioning my mental health, indicating my emotional state and passion invalidated my point (in the age of ‘feminism and mental health awareness’, nonetheless).

Let me lay out some quotes from our class:

‘Wow, I didn’t expect you to have that perspective. I’m just kind of shocked.’

‘Sweetie, I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself because confronting these kind of complex issues can be tough.’

‘what you’re saying sounds racist.’

‘Wow, sounds like you’re taking things personal and being super defensive.’

‘Well, you’ve been talking a long time and no one has stopped you, so…(basically insinuating this is one way I benefit from the whiteness I am too intellectually inept to observe and acknowledge on my own) ’

‘Well, the book is based in ‘Time’, so if you didn’t get that connection to the course, I don’t know…*demeaning shrug*.’

I’d really love to know how this type of dialogue lends to open, tolerant discussions around complex issues such as racism, discrimination and diversity.

The entire experience was dehumanizing (treating me as though I lack the mental capacities commonly attributed to human beings) and humiliating (an experience I am quite familiar with, unfortunately).

No one inquired with active listening to see if they understood my perspective, no one initiated de-escalation techniques, you all just assumed what you heard, reacted to what you thought you heard with no attempt at clarification.

Instead of allowing me to confront a complex issue, everyone shut me down, rolled their eyes at me and accused me of mental instability. You then ended class when you decided it got ‘too heated’.

I find this type of behavior absolutely unacceptable in the academic setting.

In such a great time of political transition and enlightenment, I will activate and use my right to be curious, to critically analyze everything around me, and speak up when something makes me uneasy or requires clarification.

I am extremely disappointed I was not allowed to simply not like the book, as if my critique equated to perpetuating racism or trashing the author. As far a I’m concerned, I am 100% in the right to criticize a self proclaimed social critic. Especially in such a politically inflamed time as we are in now, especially with all that is happening as human life adjusts to this overwhelm of information unprecedented for our species.

If you had actually taken a moment to listen to my point, you would see my critique had nothing to do with the book and instead everything to do with the linguistics and culture surrounding the community (aka, ‘the people’ i.e. Times Mag, Vogue, Buzzfeed, Esquire, the news channels, etc.) which produced and promoted this supposedly, and I quote, ‘mesmerizing, astounding, intimately groundbreaking’ memoir.'

My critique was that I was unable to find a single negative or neutral review or critique on this book-every comment about the 'masterpiece' was loaded with exaggerated vocabulary, attempting to make the book seem more impressive than it actually is. Everyone who reviewed it said almost the exact same thing, claiming it’s some ground breaking masterpiece…My antenna become raised when everything surrounding a text, person, or idea is only positive and insidiously coercive-it reads as propaganda. It reads as, 'I make money having this opinion.'

As someone who has read extensively true masterpieces of human thought, my intelligence felt infantilized by this book, ‘Good Talk’. It is a youth reading level. The art and conversations are banal. I’m looking for the magnificent depth that is claimed to exist in this book, but struggle to find it. The more I dig, the more offended I feel-for myself and my generation. This isn’t new for me; being autistic means I don’t always ‘get it’.

But the thing is, I’m allowed to have my opinion. I’m allowed to ask questions. I’m allowed to disagree with you.

In fact, being able to disagree and have boundaries is what indicates a healthy relationship dynamic. Abusive dynamics do not allow for the free exchange of ideas-they are only concerned with control.

I’ve been through an extensive amount of psychological, physical and sexual abuse in my short life time-I have suffered greatly from being gaslit out of my human right to autonomy, to discern, judge and analyze my lived experience and perceived reality. I have spent 20 years pouring over psychology, neuroscience, linguistics, religion, trauma, somatics, politics and the extremely psychologically and socially damaging effects of coercive, manipulative, confusing and compelled speech. I have come to believe that compelled speech be one of the most insidiously predatory of human behaviors.

To recap my critique before you twisted it into calling me an uninformed racist and accusing me of not being smart enough to understand this ‘extremely complex topic’, instead of listening, inquiring and encouraging tolerance:

Let me make it clear, I do not have issues discussing racism, I do not have issues hearing about someone’s lived experience with racism, I do not take issue with someone garnering success for telling their story, I do not take issue validating racism as a very real and prominent struggle through out human history, I do not struggle to validate the generational effects of ancestral trauma, I do not struggle to identify my own experiences with racism or what privileges I may or may not have.

What I do take issue with is having propaganda shoved down my throat and being coerced into agreement with out critical analysis. What I do take issue with is the ‘in’ circle of the media dictating how we think and feel about ourselves.

What I do take issue with is the denial of tolerance and critical thought in an environment where that is exactly the entire point.

I really appreciate when my mentors care about my development as an individual and take seriously the act of education by making a commitment to the facilitation of a safe container for the ultimate freedom of thought and theory. This phenomenon, language, is how humans think with one another. In fact, there is data that indicates speech is actually more of a faculty of thought and thinking than actual communication.

Some would say freedom of speech is the antidote to war.

Because what happens when people don’t feel heard? When you restrict their autonomy? They protest and riot, rebel and fight; at the micro and macroscopic level of analysis.

What is most unsettling about all this is even though you think you are so thoroughly morally awakened with your correct political ideology, when I challenged your perspective, you reverted into your toxic masculinity to demean my point, use my emotions against me, call me crazy, and tell me I ‘just don’t get it’, just like every other man in my life. In this moment of discourse, your actions and the actions of the class went against everything you all regurgitatively preach about; tolerance, diversity and willingness to maintain open dialogue (like the program that suggested the book intends to do)

I have fought long and hard for my ability to think and act autonomously. I will not give it up so willingly just to fit in with the automatons. I am here to speak and challenge my mind, not be infantilized by professors who are intellectually intimidated by my critiques or questions and choose to perpetuate the ouroboros of silent ignorance under the guise of moral compassion and higher awareness.

I am here for all the people, not just the sum that are deemed morally acceptable by the elite.

All humans deserve the right to think and speak autonomously and to question everything.

I refuse to engage with othering political ideologies that pit us against one another over something so surface level as our skin color.

The experience of human suffering is much more complex than these skin deep, half baked, mind numbing, theoretical ideologies.

I am here to talk to humans, not at them. I am here for inquiry, curiosity and investigation; not propaganda.

Mind you, I am 28 years old. Most of your class I imagine is about 8-10 years younger than me. They’re babies, and they look to people like you to show them how to engage with healthy conflict. You really missed out on a teaching opportunity here, and I missed out on an opportunity of being heard.

My critique is founded in my passion to learn and contribute to the autonomous thought of the humans around me.

Language is more powerful than anyone likes to admit.

Empowering language is crystal clear- it respects an individual's autonomy.

Coercive speech controls others.

If you are curious to actually pick my mind and engage in a serious discussion about the insidious effects of viral, propagandist, coercive language, I am more than happy to do so.

Otherwise, I wish you best in the completion of your assimilation.

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fakeoldmanfucker · 1 year

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The Facebook Effect: Prologue and Chapter 1

I've decided, rather than post my thoughts on The Facebook Effect as I read it, collect all of my ramblings into a post for every chapter or so. Hopefully this will result in less clogging of the dash and also more time for reflection on my part. This is mostly for my own reference anyway.

Let's start off with a quote from Kirkpatrick about Mark Zuckerberg that is truly just, absolutely astounding.

He knows that Facebook's long-term success will probably be defined by how well it protects its users' privacy.

I think it would be an understatement to say that this did not age well. Or perhaps it aged perfectly, because even though Zuckerberg insists (or insisted. I think even he would realize now this statement would ring too false) that he is All For transparency, he consistently contradicts himself if you look at enough of what he's said.

I casually told him I thought he seemed like a natural CEO. In my mind it was a huge compliment, one I did not give lightly. But he acted insulted. His face scrunched up with a look of distaste. "I never wanted to run a company," he said a few minutes later. "To me a business is a good vehicle for getting stuff done." Then for the rest of the interview he continued to say the kinds of things that only focused and visionary business leaders are capable of saying.

It's interesting because I've watched an interview with both Kirkpatrick and Zuckerberg, and Kirkpatrick didn't seem particularly on Zuckerberg's side about anything, even going as far to state that Zuckerberg is scared and paranoid of competition (Mark's reaction to this was interesting because he was very obviously annoyed by this claim but had to act diplomatic, which was an interesting tension to see play out.) But thus far in the book, Kirkpatrick has been presenting Zuckerberg and Facebook in a pretty uncritical light, bar a few throwaway sentences about the potential need for regulation.

In the first chapter, Kirkpatrick talks about Mark's time at Harvard and the events leading up to the creation of Facebook. There's some descriptions of the Kirkland suite, Mark's general behavior, and that of his roommates/early inner circle. I find especially intriguing the description of Dustin, who was new to coding and was essentially learning how to code while working on Facebook.

Moskovotz mimicked Zuckerberg's code wherever he could, and set out to learn. He wasn't always fast but he immediately became known for his amazing capacity for hard work. "Mark would get kind of impatient," says one friend. "But Dustin just trudged through and through and through." Some in Kirkland House started calling the sophomore from Florida "the ox."

I've watched several interviews of Dustin, almost all that YouTube has to offer, and he's mentioned Adam D'Angelo a couple times as a friend and advisor, but I hadn't known just how far back their connection went. D'Angelo was a friend of Mark's from high school who had helped create Mark's first big project, Synapse. D'Angelo went to CalTech, but he ended up literally talking Dustin through coding and expanding Facebook to other colleges. Also I just have to say that Dustin is the favorite to win here, for me, and I think he's much more tolerable and compelling and probably more moral than Zuckerberg.

Fun fact, which I'd heard but was never able to find a source for, the blog posts that Mark makes while making Facemash? Practically word for word accurate, even the "___ is a bitch. I need to think of something to make to take my mind off her" and "I'm a little intoxicated, not gonna lie."

The fact that Mark and Dustin are so adamant that The Social Network is so inaccurate (Dustin at one point said it's 95% made up) and yet the film holds up both as an accurate depiction of Mark's personality and stays true to the message/moral if not the explicit facts of the early days of Facebook is genuinely so funny to me. I know that they can't and won't ever say anything about it for stock reasons, but it is just so obvious that it's hilarious.

However, The Social Network didn't go far enough in describing the lengths Zuckerberg went to to hack into the Harvard facebooks for Facemash. At one point he literally snuck into one of the houses and accessed it from inside because he couldn't get in without a password and presumably wasn't close enough with anyone in that house to ask for theirs (which he did do with another house). And Kirkpatrick wrote this without any acknowledgement of the implications of a powerful CEO having little regard for rules? Not that it's unusual, of course, but it has at the very least uncomfortable implications. Starting to think that Kirkpatrick isn't as unbiased as he would like me to believe.

The polished and well-liked son of a wealthy Brazilian business magnate, Saverin was an officer in the college Investment Club and a superb chess player who was known by his friends as a math genius.

See, I have a friend who found Eduardo's chess records/rankings from the seasons he was active in Florida, and it looks like he was pretty middling. Maybe he did better once he was in college? Maybe he just gave off this vibe and no one knew well enough to accurately assess his abilities, and now it's been repeated often enough that even Kirkpatrick thinks it's true? The world may never know.

#the facebook effect #finn's flailings #didn't mean for this post to get so long but at least now y'all know how far the hyperfixation has gone #i didn't really talk about how any of this relates to tsn/fic because i wanted to keep semi on topic #but if anyone wants to know my thoughts i will elaborate

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sellmytech · 1 year

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What Befalls Your Old Electronics When You Get The Most recent Gadget?

In spite of the fact that cash is perhaps the clearest reason individuals choose to sell their old electronic gadgets, there are various motivations behind why more individuals need to know where to sell an iPhone. These are a couple of the most well-known reasons:

Innovation is developing at an astounding rate, especially where PDAs are concerned. It seems like even the littlest changes in another model telephone bring about clients scrambling to get the most recent variant. At the point when they do, their now obsolete form, wherein they contributed essentially, is still completely useable and frequently left sitting in a cabinet.

At the point when innovation moves the most recent arrival of the following iPhone in the grouping, selling old mobile in Bangalore will give the purchaser a portion of the money they need to make the new buy, while likewise effectively utilizing the more established telephone.

They are sought after by online stores and retailers who will give added motivating forces to anybody ready to sell an iPad, iPhone, or another well-known electronic gadget. Whenever the proprietor has the valuable chance to acquire store credit towards the acquisition of the new contraption, customers are enticed to buy the most current model and make the most of the store's deal.

It likewise makes it more straightforward for any individual who has pondered selling their gadgets, yet who doesn't have the foggiest idea how to approach tracking down a merchant.

How Do Organizations Do This

In all honesty, there are organizations out there that esteem old models of gadgets, for example, the iPhone and so on. To sell iPhones or whatever other electronic contraption, you should simply join their site. You can look for your device through the inquiry box or by perusing various classes of items.

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At the point when you answer a few inquiries connected with the thing's condition, extras, age, working condition, or economic situation, a moment value statement will be produced. You can then add the item to your shopping basket and present your request.

To sell iPhone, you should send it to the organization for examination (normal transportation charges are typically free), and on the off chance that everything is palatable; you can hope to get a monetary installment that will be straightforwardly moved to your ledger. For the most part, installment is made in the span of 3 days of getting and reviewing the hardware.

What Befalls Old Devices

Vendors of second-hand electronic items realize that old telephones and different devices actually have helpfulness left in them despite the fact that clients probably shouldn't keep them. They either exchange them for those keen on purchasing recycled contraptions or reuse them and use parts to make new items. Assuming you want to, utilize the administrations of these organizations just when you need to sell old iPhones or other cell phones, you are mixed up. They manage a wide range of electronic things, for example, PDAs, gaming consoles, MP3 players, cameras, workstations, tablets, and so on.

Information Security

At the point when you are wanting to sell old Iphones or other utilized contraptions, you might be worried about the security of the information that you have put away in these gadgets. You can have confidence since presumed organizations guarantee that all mobiles and devices they get are gotten free from information. They do this by leading information swipes, production line resets, designs and so forth. They adhere to severe directions and on the off chance that you are as yet concerned, you can see these guidelines and perceive how information is gotten for famous devices on their site.

This truly is the no-problem approach to disposing of your undesirable iPhone. Simply put in your request, transport it to the organization for review, and anticipate cash compensation in 3 days or less. Maybe you'd need to spend that cash securing the most recent PC you've been looking at of late?

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brazpour · 2 years

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The Little Book Of Humanism PDF Free Download

The Little Book Of Humanism PDF Free Download The Little Book of Humanism PDF Free Download: Andrew Copson and Alice Roberts, a striking mix of energetic, current humanists who are similarly savvy and profoundly learned, have masterfully made this book. Download the total book and every one of its sections in pdf design here. Follow the given advances bit by bit and partake in the pdf. The Little Book Of Humanism PDF Free Download Summary This book is a superb prologue to and immortal assortment of humanist thoughts from a portion of history's and the present most noteworthy logicians, with general experiences and stunning unique pictures. You should peruse this pdf book's every one of the sections regardless of whether you are a Humanist. the book will rouse and helps you to remember what's truly going on with life. The Little Book of Humanism is appealing to human hardships as well as the insight of the world's most popular humanist thinkers and activists. It gives serious and down to earth food to thought, as well as consolation to everybody to have the backbone and certainty to pursue our own choices and find our own convictions. It's a demulcent of idealism to assist us with overcoming this pandemic. Everybody needs to carry on with a blissful life. While looking for direction, comfort, or motivation, numerous people generally go to religion. Yet, there has forever been one more method for figuring out how to live well: the humanist way, which is more crucial than any other time in the present more common world. The Little Book Of Humanism PDF Free Download The Little Book Of Humanism Pdf, The Little Book Of Humanism PDF Free Download Through an elevating assortment of stories, statements, and contemplations on the most proficient method to carry on with a moral and satisfying life secured in reason and mankind, Alice Roberts and Andrew Copson share north of 2,000 years of humanist information. The Little Book Of Humanism PDF Free Download this book is an astounding prologue to and immortal assortment of humanist thoughts from a portion of history's and the present most noteworthy scholars, with widespread bits of knowledge and exquisite unique pictures. The Little Book Of Humanism PDF Free Download We all need to carry on with a cheerful existence. Generally, when needing direction, solace or motivation, many individuals go to religion. Yet, there has been one more method for figuring out how to live well - the humanist way - and in the present more mainstream world, it is more applicable than any time in recent memory. Content Of The Little Book Of Humanism - Children Of Earth - The Unique You - Diversity And Equality - Being Good - Thinking Clearly - Science And Progress - Religion And Faith - Thinking About Death - Living Well - Humanist Ceremonies - About The Humanist Quoted - About The Illustrators - About The Author - Acknowledgment - About The Humanist UK

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Book NameThe Little Book Of HumanismAuthorAlice Roberts & Andrew CopsonPublisherPiatkusLanguageEnglishPages256Release Date27 August 2020File TypePDF About The Author Alice Roberts: is the President of Humanists UK, as well as an essayist and telecaster. She is the writer of eight smash hit science books, including Evolution: The Human Story, the Incredible Unlikeliness of Being, and Tamed: Ten Species That Changed Our World. She has composed and introduced an extensive variety of network shows for BBC2, BBC4, and Channel 4, including The Incredible Human Journey, Origins of Us, and Ice Age Giants, as well as different Horizon programs, since making her TV debut in Time Team in 2001. Her humanist brain lessons' on Twitter have gotten great many likes and offers. Andrew Copson: is the President of Humanists International and the Chief Executive of Humanists UK. He has been on various TV and radio projects as a humanist voice, and he has expounded on humanism for magazines like The Economist, New Statesman, Guardian, Prospect, The Times, and Buzzfeed. He altered the Wiley Blackwell Handbook of Humanism with AC Grayling, and his most recent book is Secularism: A Very Short Introduction. He has contributed as a humanist to different citation assortments and compilations, including Wisdom forever and various instructive materials. End: Thus, Readers, I want to believe that you have effectively downloaded The Little Book of Humanism in pdf design utilizing the about download URLs. I wish to remind you always remember to impart this article to your loved ones for large number of free pdf, books, reading material, and study notes in pdf. Read the full article

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cobbklit9 · 2 years

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Fabulousfiction fiction - Chapter 572 – Meeting Old Friends six living recommendation-p1

Wonderfulfiction - Chapter 572 – Meeting Old Friends furry doubt quote-p1

Novel-Astral Pet Store-Astral Pet Store Chapter 572 – Meeting Old Friends waiting anger Most of the optimum t.i.tled get ranked warriors had been well-known they will have formerly set up their fame yrs past. Even now, he possessed never come across anybody called Su Ping. Many people today emerged and endured before the Inferno Dragon. People were the campus' guards. He can have never anticipated to see Su Ping there. “What has happened for you?” Su Ping didn't solution Mo Fengping's dilemma. He was additional focused on Xu Kuang. Someone individuals was using Su Ping's orders and had even explained he was sorry?! “Huh?” Sinister Ex-Girlfriend “Are you aware she's absent?” Su Ping frowned. Xu Kuang didn't audio just as if he was aware. But… The afternoon Han Yuxiang stepped into a store and found the younger man… He acquired grasped that the fresh guy was really a monster in concealing. joan thursday actress The guards as well as the gang of youngsters had been equally astounded to see their Vice Princ.i.p.al arrive in guy, and also at a really easy speed. The defeated-up son away from seal ended up being moved away via the dragon. He crawled up and stared on the beast. To his astonish, it experienced a striking resemblance for the Inferno Dragon breed! Mo Fengping couldn't believe Su Ping was dialling his educator by brand. “My instructor really should be listed here. I will get in touch with him then reveal to you to his business.” “Fengping? How was your holiday? Have been you able to find Pass up Su within the Longjiang Starting point Metropolis?” That collection of young men was continue to here. Something about Xu Kuang standing on the Inferno Dragon's shoulder was out. She could not kick the bucket and she should never! “Let me inquire him.” Mo Fengping was frightened with the raging flames in Su Ping's eyes. He recognized he couldn't distressed Su Ping additionally. Mo Fengping resolved which he could show all the things to his instructor since he respectable Su Ping. Su Ping dragged a long encounter. He had gained an overall idea of the Valiant Academy based upon Xu Kuang's description. “And my sister?” Su Ping expected. “Fengping? How was your trip? Have been you capable of finding Skip Su on the Longjiang Base Town?” The guards as well as selection of young people have been equally astounded to view their Vice Princ.i.p.al get to individual, as well as at a really fast performance. Every part of the storyplot was breathtaking enough, and also the hero was precisely the same human being. glorious one pot meals recipes “Fengping? How was your trip? Were you able to get Overlook Su within the Longjiang Base Community?” Xu Kuang was proof of that which was going on inside the Valiant Academy. A gust of formidable wind power blew toward that gang of young men. She could not kick the bucket and she ought not! “Let me check with him.” Mo Fengping was frightened with the raging fire in Su Ping's eyes. He recognized he couldn't angry Su Ping additional. Mo Fengping chosen that they could tell everything to his educator since he highly regarded Su Ping. It never took place to Mo Fengping that his trainer would speak to Su Ping so nervously. Mo Fengping acquired created a wonderful feel after years in the academy. He could tell immediately that his mentor was terrified and burned out. Su Ping snorted. “Han Yuxiang will be here, perfect? Get him right here.” “Mr. Su.” The men ended up certain he was the cause of this killing purpose they observed. “Aren't you learning listed here?” Su Ping gazed at Xu Kuang But Su Ping didn't appear to be much elderly by comparison. The Golden Grasshopper But Su Ping didn't seem to be much more aged in contrast. Soon after, he obtained compelled the Otherworld Divine Emperor to retreat in the Longjiang Foundation “I mean that he needs to can come and determine me in this article!” Su Ping glared at Mo Fengping. Su Ping lifted his hand. He utilized his astral abilities to drag Xu Kuang in the terrain and also to see him up close. Standing on the dragon's shoulder blades had been a mankind with forearms crossed looking at his chest. He coldly checked down at anything from a length. wyrd sisters mythology Mo Fengping was startled. He got another look at Xu Kuang anything got to Mo Fengping's brain that made him lighter with fright. But… The second calmed down just after his burst of sentiment. He purged in embarra.s.sment and decreased his mind. “I'm a loser. I wouldn't be similar to this should i is actually a little tougher.” short summary of wide sargasso sea “Who is the fact?” The beaten-up son before long observed the person sitting on among the dragon's shoulders. Not really sun rays will be sufficient to thaw the an ice pack within that kind of eye. Right after, he obtained pressured the Otherworld Perfect Master to retreat from the Longjiang Structure

#Black Knights Inc: Born Wild #the great vault shadowlands

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letarasstuff · 3 years

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Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #david rossi x teen!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #Criminal Minds #x teen!reader #reader insert

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imagine-that-100 · 3 years

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Good Boy

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You get your period just before you’re due to go to an award show with the boys. Whilst the pain never dulls when you’re there, your fiancé’s affection certainly eases it and so do his cuddles when he drags you back home.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This was requested by @ghostlightqueen. Hope you enjoy it and I hope the rest of you do to. This is pretty fluffy and it was so cute to write up. Likes and Reblog are appreciated and as always thank you so much for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You feeling any better?” Adam asks, after giving you a hug as he joins you back at the table.

You were currently at an award show with the boys that Matty had pleaded with you to come to. You’d not been to one of these events in years and you’d planned not to go to one again.

But this one was a smaller one than the others you’d been to. You weren’t all put on TV at this one and you weren’t in the O2, so you agreed you’d come.

Initially when you got up this morning and saw how excited Matty was to get ready for these awards, you yourself were looking forward to it. You were excited to wear your new teal pant suit that Matty had then designed his own outfit around and you were excited to see your fiancé perform again, even if it was just for one song.

You’d been swamped with work, so you’d unfortunately only made it to one show this tour. But now it was the end of them touring and you had your boys back around you, you were excited to see them up on stage again.

But then an hour before you were due to head off to the awards, your fucking period started.

You sort of knew it was coming because you had that icky feeling in your stomach all day, but you were hoping it was just the sensations you sometimes felt the day before it arrived.

But that was not to be.

You felt awful as the first few days of your period typically left you feeling. The fact you had to go out and wear heels and be nice to people you didn’t know didn’t make the feeling of your insides being scrambled, as you described it to Matty, any easier.

After assuring him you’d be fine after the painkillers had kicked in, you all headed off to the awards. And despite the painkillers barely helping you, you’d had a good night.

You got to see some lovely people you hadn’t seen for a while like the Pale Waves gang and Rome and Bea. You’d become quite good friends with Heather over the years so you always loved seeing her.

And of course, you got to spend the evening with your boys.

They won the award they were up for and they even got an award they didn’t know they were up for, for the Drive Like I Do album. And you had always adored seeing them perform.

Matty had truly grown into the role of a frontman and the way he worked an audience truly astounded you. The way the fans responded to him back when the first album came out astounded you, but the fact the audiences were still just as thirsty for him now made you laugh.

And you knew he loved it and played it to his advantage.

So, after the two songs they were asked to perform were done they slowly but surely made their way back over to you.

“A little, thanks Ad” You smile before sitting back down in your seat.

You weren’t feeling any better at all though, despite taking more painkillers about an hour ago. But thankfully the awards had nearly finished, and you had another lot of painkillers with you to take at the after party.

You knew Matty was excited to go to it as it had been a while since he’d attended one of these events. Especially with all of his friends being invited to come as well.

So, for him, you didn’t mind grin and bearing the pain. Even more so because he dressed himself to match you.

You were in a darker teal pantsuit and you had an orange low cut blouse on underneath it, with a matching pair of orange heels. Believe it or not, the colours did go really well together and immediately when Matty saw you in it he whipped out his casual orange suit, or as casual as an orange suit can get.

He borrowed a teal shirt and he somehow made it work. You probably both looked like muppets with his short mohican and your hair left to naturally fall around your shoulders.

But you both looked fit so you couldn’t care less. He could pull any combination off and always look incredible; you were envious of him in that respect.

But at least you could call him yours.

“How you feeling Sweetheart?” Matty asks coming straight back over to you when he escapes his conversation.

When he caught you routing for painkillers before you changed into your teal suit earlier, he could tell straight away that you didn’t feel well. And he knew exactly the reason why from how you carried yourself.

He was gutted for you because he knew you were excited to dress up for the first time in ages. Matty didn’t mind you not coming, and he said you didn’t have to, but you shot that down straight away.

You knew how much he wanted you there despite him acting like he didn’t. And he was your fiancé so you were going.

“Yeah okay, thank you” You smile and lean in for a quick kiss. “Well done, you were amazing”

He retakes his seat and says, with a concerned look in his eye, “Thank you… Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Promise I’m fine” You lie.

You felt like you were that Mortal Kombat character that had that worm thing bursting out of its chest. But instead of whatever it was bursting out of your chest it was trying to murder your uterus.

Uncomfortable was an understatement and the fact you weren’t drinking was worse. You told Matty you didn’t mind driving tonight as you knew he liked to have a few glasses of wine at these things.

You sort of wish you had the alcohol to dull your pain a bit more but you’d rather Matty have a good time. You’d take Matty’s alcohol induced affection as a distraction over alcohol every single time though.

You adored him so much. You were so glad you were going to marry him.

The day really couldn’t come soon enough.

The fact you were marrying him though was another reason that you didn’t want to ruin his night. Not because you didn’t want to upset him but because you didn’t want to burden him with thinking you wanted to leave when you actually didn’t.

So that was why you kept how you were feeling under wraps. And you managed that into the afterparty but of course when you excused yourself Matty wanted to find you not 2 minutes after you left his side.

He was certain he saw you head out the front. Matty assumed to answer a phone call as you didn’t smoke anymore, and the toilets were in the opposite direction.

So Matty tipsily headed out that way into the foyer of the venue you were in. And he spotted you in that stunning teal suit straight away.

But instead of being stood on your phone looking like an amazingly sassy businesswoman, you were crouched down leaning against a nearby wall with your head in your hands. And that shocked and scared Matty to his core.

He rushed over to you immediately and asked, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You head flew up immediately hearing Matty’s voice and Matty managed to take a breath of relief seeing you weren’t crying. You looked fine which confused Matty as he didn’t know why you were leaning against the wall looking like you were in pain.

Oh.

You were in pain.

“Hey” You smile and stand yourself back up on your orange heels. Before he can ask when he gets closer you assure him, ”I’m fine, I’m fine”

“No, you’re not” Matty shakes his head, looking at you with sad eyes.

You nod, trying to persuade him, “I am, I swear”

But Matty knows you better than that.

“What’s wrong?” Matty asks seeing if you’d be honest.

“Nothing’s wrong”

So Matty asks again, “What’s wrong?”

“My stomach is just cramping but I’m fine” You assure him, fixing he lapels on his orange blazer.

“You’re not”

“I am”

“You’re in pain, yes or no?”

“Matty” You sigh.

“Yes or no?”

You give in, “Yes but-“

“Then we'll leave. Just you and me” Matt says taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit.

You pull back against him, “Matty no. It's fine… You wanted to stay with Bea, Rome, Heather... I don’t mind staying.”

“Sweetheart, I literally just caught you crouched on the ground in pain” Matty chuckles, shaking his head at your blatant lie.

“I wasn’t in pain, I was seeing how my suit would fix itself” You tell him and gesture down at the teal material, “Looks pretty good”

“You always look pretty good but I’m not as fucking thick as you think I am.” Matty grins shaking his head at you before pulling you into a hug. “You used to be such a better liar”

“I’ve not got any secrets from you anymore.” You chuckle a little.

“You didn’t need to have any from me anyway.” Matty pulls you into a hug, and he presses a kiss to your head before he says, “You know I’ve adored you since we met, could tell me you buried a body and I’d of kept my mouth shut”

“Speaking of... I might need help moving the body later” You grin, pulling back a little so you're still standing close, your arms hanging loose around his neck.

“See I may believe you, but you’ve got mad period pain so I think we‘ll move the body next week” Matty chuckles, playing along.

You giggle at that and you move away from him so you can both head back towards the party. But Matty grabs your hand, “Where are you going?”

“Back in there” You point back to the doors that the party was hiding behind.

“No we're going home, come on” Matty pulls you back.

“Matty it’s fine, I know you wanna stay” You say genuinely.

You truly didn’t mind staying. You’d certainly had worse period pain and gone about normally.

You didn’t need to leave a party early.

“I want my stunning wife to be, to get into her pyjamas and be comfortable as her ‘insides are scrambling’, as you so poetically put it.” Matty tells you with a cheeky grin, “And I want to make her feel better in any way I can. ”

You tell him honestly, with the most genuine look, “Matty, I don't mind staying.”

“I literally want to go home.” Matty tells you, his eyebrows raised to emphasise his point.

You grin when you quote his lyrics at him, “Do you wanna leave at the same time?”

“Right, that's literally about dying... And I know you’re not that dramatic” Matty says pulling you back into his arms and you half hug half dance your way down the hall towards the car park.

When you get back home you immediately change into your pyjamas per Matty’s instructions. He brought you a drink and painkillers up to your bedroom and once he watched you take them, he went and got himself ready for bed.

After showering and quickly drying his hair he came back into your bedroom to find you lay in the centre of your large bed. You’d left room for him either side of you as you, but you looked so comfy Matty was almost hesitant to join you.

“You look like you feel better” Matty grins seeing you looking a bit better in yourself.

You smile at him, “Definitely feel better now I’m lay down”

“That’s good”

“Think I’d feel even better if I got a cuddle” You suggest with a cheeky grin and raised eyebrows.

“Lucky I’m available to give you that, isn’t it?” Matty chuckles, pulling the covers back to get into bed.

You raise your arms to him, so he knows to come to you. You wanted him close and you wanted to hold him.

If that meant you being used as a body pillow, then so be it.

Matty slotted himself right beside you and he lay his head on the top of your chest, so his head was tucked just under your chin. An immediate surge of warmth came over you when he settled himself in your embrace.

Your arms instantly went around his bare back and as you kept one on his smooth skin, your other instinctively travelled to his hair. It was still warm to touch from the hairdryer he used on his now short locks, and his body was still toasty from the heat of his shower.

It really helped dull the last ache that your period brought to you. Matty was like your personal hot water bottle.

You hum as you close your eyes and hug him a little tighter. “You’re really warm”

“That‘s unusual for me so enjoy it whilst it lasts” Matty hugs you a little tighter then.

You giggle knowing it was true and you do, you even tuck the duvet higher up his back, so he stayed toasty warm above you.

“Matty” You say, still repeatedly running your fingers through his short hair at the top of his head.

You feel Matty hum against your chest, “Yes Sweetheart?”

“Will you do me a favour please?” You smile, your eyes still closed, enjoying the closeness.

“Course.” Your fiancé says, picking his head up from your chest to look up at your gorgeous face, “Do you need me to go get you some chocolate? A McDonalds maybe, I know the twenty nuggets is sort of your comfort food these days”

You grin at him then, “You're adorable, but no.” You shake your head, “You don't need to go anywhere for anything”

“Then what can I do for you?” Matty asks, tilting his head to the side and his gorgeous brown eyes shined curiously.

“Can you stop shaving your curls off please?” You plead with a smile tugging at your lips, “I really miss my curly”

Matty grins feeling you still running your fingers through what locks he has left. “I’m right here, I'm no different because they’re gone”

“I know…” You grin, and you guide his head back down to resting on your chest so he’s as comfy as you, “Just miss messing with your longer hair sometimes”

“I miss you messing with it too.” Matty says lovingly, placing a kiss to your skin “I'll grow it back out for you, I promise”

You giggle a little then as each time he’d cut his hair over the years you’d scorned him for it and he’d taken no notice. You weren't expecting him to actually agree with you now but you were certainly glad he had.

“Thank you, my lovely” You grin. “And thanks for tonight”

“What do you mean? I’ve not done anything?” Matty asks, a little confused.

Your voice slows as you tell him, “Thank you for our cute matching outfits, that was really adorable. And for taking me with you, I'm really glad you won, and you know I love watching you perform. And for coming home and looking after me, you really didn't have to, but I really appreciate it”

“You know I’d do anything for you Sweetheart... And I'd rather you feel better and be in bed with you than stick around at an after party anyway” Matty tells you grabbing your hand that wasn't messing with his hair and he placed a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re far too good for me” You grin before you quickly lean down and place a kiss to the start of his head.

“You’re right, I did just win another award” Matty jokes and he only starts laughing when you hit him over the head playfully.

“I’m joking” He giggles, “I love you”

“I love you more Matty” You say and reach up above your head to flick the light switch off.

After a minute of just silently enjoying the other's closeness, Matty asks you quietly, “What time do you want to go and pick up our child from my Mum‘s tomorrow?”

You giggle at that question and say, “You know I was talking about our child to Y/B/F and she stopped me and questioned it thinking she’d gone into a coma for a year or something and missed us having a kid”

“Has she not heard us call Mayhem our kid since the day we went and got him?” Matty asks a little shocked.

Matty remembered the day you got him, and he’d fully said he was a practice child for you both in the future.

“Apparently not” You giggle, still messing with your fiancé’s hair.

Y/B/F has definitely been living under a rock.

Matty’s chuckles settle after a moment and he says, “Bed’s a little comfier without him laying on me if I'm honest”

“I’d say I’d agree but I'm practically in the same situation” You grin to yourself, still practically stroking his head.

“Aw that's nasty” Matty all but pouts.

“Or is it? He’s cute, you’re cute. He’s fluffy and you’re fluffy when you have more hair” You’re smiling like an idiot as you list all these things off, “You like biscuits, he likes biscuits. You cuddle up to me in bed and so does Mayhem. And you both give me good morning kisses”

Matty picks his head up and looks at you through the darkness, asking, “Is this the part where you say you’re marrying our dog instead of me?”

“I would but the invitations have already been printed and that would be a lot of money to change and update everyone” You joke, and you can see in the dim light that shines through your curtains that his jaw drops.

He gasps, “Nasty bitch”

“Mayhem’s a boy, he can’t be a bitch” You joke, thinking you’re funny.

Matty chuckles, kissing the side of your neck, “I meant you”

“That’s no way to speak to your fiancé Healy” You grin, liking the gentle kiss he placed on your neck. “Especially when she’s on her period”

Matty hums against your neck then and you hear him say, “Don’t cry on me now”

You roll your eyes at that. It wasn’t often you cried over a conversation with Matty when you were on your period, so you knew he was being dramatic. But you knew your man, you could play on the drama and he’d eat it up.

“I might do you know” You sniffle as if you’re getting upset.

Matty giggles into your neck a little then and you're smiling, still playing with his hair. Matty coos, despite knowing you’re joking, “Don’t do that”

You fake another shaky inhale, “I’ll try”

“Awwww” Matty pouts before pecking his way back down your collarbone and onto the top of your chest before resting his head there again.

You play the victim and press on, “What do you say to your poor wife to be who didn’t deserve that”

“Sorry Sweetheart” Matty chuckles before placing another kiss onto your skin.

You just can't stop grinning like an idiot. He literally was just putting in your hands and you loved him for being so soft with you.

“That's right… Such a good boy” You continue with your final dog similarity joke and pat his head.

Both you and Matty just lie there in bed giggling away like fools in love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

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everybody-loves-purdy · 2 years

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God I have sO MANY thoughts abt ALitM

Like, first off: MAGGOTTAIL IS ALIVE AND HE’S GOT LORE!!

Kinda miffed they decided to make him a ShadowClan cat bc we already have so many in the DF/it kinda feels like an “all Slytherins are evil” situation (and also I was hoping since he was said to be one of the oldest (if not the oldest) DF residents that maybe he’d be from SkyClan) and w/ how he went from an intimidating DF leader to acting like a naive child (like, c’mon, man, you’ve been here far longer than everyone else and you actually believed Ashfur’s BS?) who’s apparently just another “I wanted to be leader and was impatient” villain (tho let’s be real the Erins were never gonna make his crimes as dark as the ones the fandom came up w/ lmao that part’s on me)

Second: is it just me, or did the whole scene w/ Bramblestar and the other leaders when Shadowsight first came back from the DF feel like a slap in the face to the fandom for calling him abusive?? Like, Leafstar, the leader who’s had absolutely zero prior experience w/ the DF, expresses a very valid concern that maybe Bramblestar isn’t the same cat he once was due to having been trapped in the DF for ages and possessed by Ashfur, and everyone flips shit on her bc he’s “a true warrior” and there’s no way he “could be anything but brave and honorable” (those are actual quotes. I hate it here). Like to me it felt like the Erins Kate mocking the fandom for daring to suggest Bramblestar is anything but a good cat when he’s absolutely garbage lmao

Third: the callback to Into the Wild where Firestar and Graystripe ambush one another made me tear up bc my god the nostalgia I felt (hella mad that there was no Sandstorm, Ravenpaw, or even Dustpelt tho 😭). Also teared up w/ Graystripe’s death and the random Firestar POV, which like,,,, what was up w/ that, actually?? Like could he do that this whole time?? Can anyone in StarClan do that?? I loved getting a Firestar POV again but I wish there had been an explanation for it as well as for Darkstripe’s random revival bc Rootspring mentions that he’d pushed him into the water in TPonS so like??? Erins explain pls

Fourth: the misogyny in this book is astounding. Leafpool mentions how she had to fight to be accepted into StarClan for breaking the code….and then literally on the same page Firestar teases the cat she broke the code w/ abt breaking the code. Then there’s the whole Bristlefrost being permakilled thing (not even gonna go into that bc this ask is already long enough lol) and how Lightleap was actually going to have plot relevance….. until the Erins decided “wait we can’t have a female sibling of a MC contribute meaningfully to the plot so uh actually she’s a coward. Send in the heavily injured cat w/ limited fighting skills instead pls”. Erins write actual decent female characters challenge.

Fifth bc I needed some more positivity in this ask: I’m actually pleasantly surprised w/ how the Erins handled Ashfur’s incell-ness?? Like, given the above point I lowkey expected more victim-blaming of Squilf/excusing of Ashfur’s actions, but they actually stuck to it and condemned his actions?? They def didn’t do things perfectly, but my gosh was it refreshing to have all the blame be placed solely on Ashfur and be reminded that you don’t owe anyone anything just bc they happen to like you

Anyway, I liked the book overall but my goodness did the Erins drop the ball in so many places here 😭 Love your blog and sorry this got so long lol I just had to get these thoughts out

Hiya! Dw I don’t mind it being long lol, I’m glad you like this blog! I’ll answer each point you make in the way you’ve listed them

First: yeah finally a bit of Maggottail lore! I personally had hoped he would have been a SkyClan cat to tie in to the now retconned Su Susan stuff but oh well. It does kind of feel that every evil cat is being lumped into ShadowClan lol. And yeah it feels odd that he believed the whole “pull out your whiskers” thing. To me he came across as quite an old soul in the dark forest from what little of him we saw prior, it feels a bit weird to make him fall for that.

Second: I completely agree

Third: I loved that callback too. And yeah the Firestar possession raised quite a few questions lol. I guess this is the Erin’s way of saying what Ashfur did to Bramblestar’s body is something technically all StarClan cats can do but they’re too good to even consider doing it? And yeah considering how deadly the water was in this book Darkstripe was certainly lucky to survive it, maybe the water’s deadliness strengthened as the forest shrunk more

Fourth: Again, I completely agree

Fifth: I hadn’t thought of that, and yeah I agree. If nothing else, in this arc it has been pretty clear they are trying to show that someone like Ashfur doesn’t belong in StarClan and props to them for actually acknowledging this rather than allowing it to be swept under the rug and not admit that this choice was a mistake, and showing how Ashfur’s incelness is directly tied to his villainy

#brawny thesaurus #alitm spoilers #broken code spoilers #warrior cats spoilers

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tcm · 3 years

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A Conversation with Patty McCormack on Growing Up on Screen By Kim Luperi

Not many child stars go on to enjoy long, successful careers in show business – and fewer still have earned a prestigious Academy Award nomination before they turned 18. Patty McCormack has achieved both. The actress, who made her first film appearance in 1951 and went on to star in THE BAD SEED (’56, for which she received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress as the murderous Rhoda at age 11); THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN (’60) and THE YOUNG RUNAWAYS (’68), continues to work in Hollywood and shows no indication of slowing down.

I had the pleasure of speaking with McCormack recently about some of these titles and more, including the delightful film KATHY O’ ('58) in which she plays a famous child star – an apt springboard for a discussion about growing up on screen and transitioning into more mature roles over her incredibly long, accomplished career.

(This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

I was watching KATHY O’ last night, and I really enjoyed it. In that movie they talk about your blonde pigtail braids as a trademark, and I realized it kind of was; you had that hairstyle in THE BAD SEED and ALL MINE TO GIVE (’57), too. Do you know how that style came about, or was it something you did that caught on?

Patty McCormack: It seems to be! I believe I even had them early on in Mama, which was an old live TV show that was a weekly event. I don't know how that [trademark] happened. I think it just happened because of THE BAD SEED – I think it was the hairdo that I went in with or they just decided on. When you see the original artwork on William March’s book, there’s a very long face drawing of Rhoda, his Rhoda, and there were braids in it. I don't know if they were looped or what, but that could have been it – or I honestly don't remember if it was chosen by my mom because it was easy, but it stuck!

I loved KATHY O’ because I got to live the dream. I loved the notion of them cutting my hair off – except it was a wig that they cut. After a while it felt like I didn't want to look like an older person with braids – you have to get rid of them eventually. As soon as I could, I wanted hair that was like, in that era, a page boy or something like that, where it landed on your shoulder. But I carried that long hair for a long time. And then you know how you revert back to certain hairdos years later?

They come back in style.

PM: Yes, they come back, but now I have shortish hair, and I'm growing it one length. So I got over the braids – just in the nick of time!

Circling back to Rhoda, you originated the role on Broadway before the film version, so you obviously had a lot of practice and familiarity with the part before you took it to the screen. Since she's such a chilling character, how did you get into that mindset at age nine, especially when you had to play the part multiple times a week?

PM: I always go back to the source, and the source was the director, Reginald Denham. He was so good with directing me. He made it fun, because I learned when I'd get an audience reaction on a face I’d make or something, I'd look forward to doing that again – you know, that kind of joy.

He made it so clear and simple, and his point of view was that Rhoda was always right. I know I've said this before, but it's the truth. No matter what anybody says, Rhoda is correct, and anything she wants, she feels entitled to – not using that word ‘entitled’ – but I really wasn't thinking of myself as a bad person, or especially not a murderer. I just thought it was their fault, which is classic, I guess. I had to kill him [the little boy] because he was so mean. So I think that was how I learned to be that character. I was aware of the murders – people were dead because of me, that I knew – but somehow it wasn't disturbing to my mind. If you take a look at it knowing that, you see it. I'm not coming from some sort of evil place, I don't think.

You were nominated for an Oscar for THE BAD SEED, which is amazing; it's a true testament to your talents, of course, but it’s also such a big accolade to have at such a young age. Do you remember there being any pressure on you for your next role?

PM: Well, the role was so odd for a kid to be so noticed, in that era anyway. I can't think of any jobs I didn't get after that that somebody else got, you know? What happened, though, was that each year I grew, and so I just experienced the typical kid actor dilemma which is going from category to category and establishing yourself in that category and learning how to be in that category. I did do something on Playhouse 90 – I did a few PLAYHOUSE 90s back then – and I did a lot of television –

You played Helen Keller [in the original 1957 Playhouse 90 teleplay “The Miracle Worker”].

PM: That's what I was going to say! That was after THE BAD SEED. But mostly, as far as movies went, there was KATHY O’ and a few here and there and at different levels of development. I was always aware that it had been a while since I worked, that I felt, but I didn't think business, like “What will I follow up that with?” I didn't have that kind of mentality, and I really don't think my mother did either, so it just sort of went the way it went.

As you mentioned too, you were still growing up. So, you’re a child, then a teenager, then young adult. You probably wouldn’t be thinking about the business part of it.

PM: No, it's so strange. It's not an easy transition, and as you know famous people go through really hard things. You don't get to sit and relax in a certain mode for too long because before you know it you're in the next one. And then you go through your ‘ugly period’ in front of everybody, which is horrible.

The movie that you mentioned TCM is going to air, THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, when I see the headshots from that I just think, “Aw, I looked uncomfortable!” I could see it even in my body. I felt like I was at the awkward time – you know, part of me was getting bigger, developing – and that hairdo they gave me didn't help; it was still the braids but wrapped up.

I want to ask you about that transition. Did you find anything difficult or surprising about navigating Hollywood and growing up on screen?

PM: The most difficult part, honestly, as a person growing up – I think at the time I always say Sandra Dee was the person we all looked to. She was just so beautiful, and no one else looked like that – maybe Carol Lynley a little bit – but the bar was set very high. With that, you’re insecure anyways because you’re at that age, and more than anything you don't want to be different. I think that's true for a lot of kids. So the maturing, that part of development, was difficult when I look back. You don't have the confidence that you had as a little kid when you don't think about anything. You become all self-conscious about how you look, if you're thin enough, if you’re pretty enough, if your hair looks nice. It's a little bit of an adjustment to get through all that and go back to what you like to do, which is to pretend, and take the focus off what you look like or who you look like or any of that stuff. I don't know if other kid actors had the same experience, but usually people grow out of a look that made them known – most of us anyway, not all of us.

I know when you left Hollywood you went back to Brooklyn and finished high school there. What was that experience like for you?

PM: Well, I took my real name back, and I was going to the high school that my mother and older sister went to, so I was really excited. This is going to sound so weird, but it was almost like playing a part – I was playing the part of a high school student. My real name is Russo, so I was Patty Russo. The experience was really kind of shocking, because I think they expected me to be very conceited, and so I had to hide in the cafeteria in the early days, because it was Brooklyn and they were pretty tough – they were on me! But I made a best friend who helped me navigate through it, and it turned into a nice experience finally. I was glad to have had that.

Then I came back out here [Los Angeles], and I stayed with a friend of my mother's family for a while. I wound up leaving Utrecht [her Brooklyn high school] – it’s a long story – but I did a soap opera in between while I was going to Utrecht, and that was kind of tricky because they weren't flexible like California was. In California they were used to kid actors, and in New York at that time, they really weren't. Then when I came out here, I went back to finish high school at Hollywood Professional and got my diploma that way. But I'm so glad I got to go back to Brooklyn. I'm pleased about that.

It sounds like you had a pretty grounded childhood, especially in attending a regular high school. Do you think that helped how you adjusted when you returned to the film industry?

PM: It was a little bit too grounded, I think! I came from a really good family. I never thought that I was a big deal, and they [her mom and dad] made sure of that. So, coming back to the industry after, I really didn't know the ropes. People handled all that before – the only thing I knew was what I did, and so some things maybe didn't get handled so well, but I learned on my feet when I came back out here. Then I married my childhood boyfriend and we had our children, and I kept working.

Yes, you’ve worked steadily since then.

PM: I did work a lot! It’s true. Nothing on the level of nominations, but I was a journeyman, I like to say.

You've spent six decades in the industry, which is really astounding, especially since you started as a child. I read an interview from 1974 that featured a humorous quote from you that I’d like to share. You said that you lamented that you never got the guy in movies and just once you wanted to “kiss the guys instead of kill them.”

PM: That is funny!

But throughout your career, you played Helen Keller, you played a career woman in THE BEST OF EVERYTHING (’70), you played Pat Nixon more recently in FROST/NIXON (’08), so you've had a lot of experience with different characters. Was there any genre or any type of character that you wish you could explore further?

PM: Well, I'll tell you the truth, it's actually seven decades from when I started, although if you want to make me younger, I don't mind! At this point in time, I'm so grateful when I work, because there could be nothing now, you know? I do enjoy what comes along. The only thing I never got to do, which I would have loved, was to have been in a habit – I would have loved to have played a nun in a habit.

That’s interesting.

PM: Isn’t it? It’s the Catholic school thing.

We’ll have to find you a role like that!

PM: I know, wouldn't that be fun? And it would be a nice way, in your later years, to go from a killer to a nun, you know? I think it would be a good idea.

Going in the right direction!

PM: Yes! But anyways, little things change here and there, and I sometimes do voiceovers, and I did something recently that I had never done, which was so much fun. Did you notice on Netflix a show called ARSENE LUPIN [working title for LUPIN]?

I haven’t heard of it, but I know there’s an old movie with the same name.

PM: Yes, this is a remake. It's in French, and I dubbed a French woman into English, and it was so much fun to do, to have someone else's face up there. I know some people watch foreign movies and they say, “Oh it's so unfair to dub the other actors,” and I probably wouldn't love it if somebody dubbed me either, but I had such a ball doing it. So, if you catch that show, you'll see somewhere in there I'm speaking English for a French woman.

I wanted to talk about two of your more recent roles. I know you starred in MOMMY in the 1990s, kind of a grown-up Rhoda, and you played a psychiatrist in the Lifetime remake of THE BAD SEED in 2018. This story has been filmed a few times; what do you think resonates with people, and how did it feel going back to that character and story but from different perspectives?

PM: Right. Well, to be honest, the Rob Lowe production [for Lifetime] was really a totally different story. There was no mom – he was the mom character – so the writing was really different.

There were two MOMMY movies: MOMMY (’95) and MOMMY’S DAY (’97). Those were written by a writer who lives in Muscatine, Iowa: Max Allan Collins. This is a long time ago now, but it was fun to grow her up, you know, physically. I talked to you about how that is the strange thing about transitioning, and it was so enjoyable to do that. It really was a journey for me internally.

There was also something about shaking hands with that, because in my day, it was never a good thing to have something so long ago be talked about all the time. I got that impression by other people's opinions, not my own, and as time went on, the world changed and people started knowing actors’ work from 20 years ago. So, the appreciation for that old work came back, and I learned to feel good about it through other people's feelings about it. I do have such a different perspective on it now, and it's a character that was so special. That really changed my ability as to how I could hold it [the role].

It’s nice to be able to do that.

PM: Yes, it is.

I have one more question for you. I know we’re in a pandemic and many productions are halted, but do you have any upcoming appearances that I can share with fans to look out for?

PM: Aw, I wish! It's funny, I did some Hallmark Christmas movies. Well, I did one, and then last year I was supposed to do another one, and they cut our parts because of COVID. So, I'm rooting for [the next one], and I have a good feeling, you know, when we have our vaccinations. Also, a downside was that they shoot in Canada, and they have to bring you up there, and at that time you had to stay in 14 days.

A lot of rules!

PM: Yes, a lot of rules. So hopefully there will be a new one. I can't honestly say, but there's no reason there shouldn't be!

My dad loves the Hallmark Christmas movies, and I watch a lot of them because of him, so I'll be rooting for you and looking out for you!

PM: I know, there's so many. People have blankets and all these things! There are real hard-core fans – it's amazing.

#patty mccormack #child actors #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #The bad seed #kim luperi #growing up on screen #acting #actor

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #31

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Azariah Steele belongs to the fabulous @cursebreakerfarrier

Word Count: ~ 2.500

______________________________________

Chapter 31: A Matter of Nerves

The sun was already hanging low in the sky when Lizzie left the castle in search of her friend. She took a moment to enjoy the last warm rays that were painting the landscape around her in hues of orange before the cold of the night would creep up on them. The air was still pleasantly mellow, the heat of the day radiating off the stone walls of the school. If she listened closely, she could hear voices and music drifting over to her from the training grounds where the pre-match party had undoubtedly begun by now.

Ignoring the compelling beat of what sounded suspiciously like The Weird Sisters playing, Lizzie walked past the path leading around the castle to where the party was going down. She nodded to quite a few people walking into the direction she was coming from, all exchanging astounded looks; after all, Lizzie had become somewhat of a staple on every pre-match party, no matter who would be playing the next day.

But now wasn’t the time to enjoy herself in order to take her mind off tomorrow; she had to check whether Skye was alright and there was only one place where she would be hiding from the rest of the world.

Lizzie was glad when the seemingly endless flow of people lessened and the ground became emptier the further she walked away from the castle. It was a peaceful summer evening, one of those Lizzie liked best; she could hear the crickets chirping in the wide meadows stretching between the castle and the Forbidden Forest, which had already begun to sink into the coming darkness. A light breeze shifted Lizzie’s hair, smelling of warm grass and pine trees.

The Quidditch pitch lay very quiet and deserted in the golden light of the sunset. It was a strange thought that it would be flooded with people tomorrow, the sound of the crowd drowning everything else. It made the silence hanging over the stands and its wooden towers that much more poignant, as if the whole stadium was taking a last breath before the impending storm.

Lizzie had never understood why Skye took her refuge here of all places. She found nothing calming about the atmosphere; if anything, the knowledge that she would have to perform in this exact same spot, which was now lying so peacefully in the evening glow, made Lizzie feel even more anxious. But then again, despite all their similarities, Skye and Lizzie just weren’t alike in some ways.

But when she climbed the rickety stairs and emerged on top of the stands, her eyes swept over the scenery again. The sunlight reflecting off the banners hanging from the wooden towers made them look like they were set on fire, a mixture of golden hues and shades of red. The megaphone attached to Murphy’s commentary box was gleaming so brightly Lizzie had to look away after a moment.

Come to think of it, the place had its own kind of beauty after all.

Lizzie continued walking along the stands, trying to shut out the memory of the last time she’d been here outside of a match. She had spotted Skye as soon as she had entered the wooden construction; she was sitting in the first row a little bit ahead of her, her chin resting on her arms that were crossed on the railing in front of her. Lost in her thoughts, she was watching the goalposts quietly, holding a piece of parchment clutched in her fist.

Lizzie recalled the last time she had come to find Skye hiding from Penny up here. So much had happened since then; it felt more like a lifetime than only one school year ago.

Skye tore her gaze away from the glinting hoops for a moment when she heard her approach. Lizzie quietly sat down next to her and Skye smiled melancholically, nodding her head towards the pitch stretching out below them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Lizzie replied noncommittally, testing the waters for Skye’s mood.

“Believe it or not, this is how I like it best; the pitch, I mean,” Skye continued as if she hadn’t heard Lizzie’s reply. “When you’re flying by the packed stands and the crowd’s going wild for you, that’s a smashing feeling and all, don’t get me wrong; but no one really appreciates the place itself.”

She pushed herself back from the railing and leaned against the wood making up the footrest of the second row behind her. “A Quidditch pitch is something steady, you know? No matter where you’re going, the pitch remains the same; same lawn, same goalposts, same open sky,” she explained. “I’ve seen more Quidditch pitches than I can remember but when you’re sitting up on the stands all on your own, there’s always something peaceful about it.”

“I guess everyone has their personal way of finding a place of peace,” Lizzie agreed. “Orion meditates, I go to the reserve and you come here.”

“It’s the only place I can have a proper think; it gives me exactly what I need. Before a match, there’s already this incredible energy, as if everything is holding its breath in anticipation; and when all is done, it’s calm again but still so full of life, as if you can still hear the cheers on the stands… ” Skye blinked incredulously as she trailed off. “Blimey, I’m starting to sound like Orion, ain’t I?”

Lizzie chuckled. “A little bit, yeah; but I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t,” Skye teased, making Lizzie shove her playfully.

“Low blow, Parkin.” A few days ago, Skye’s remark probably would have hurt her and left her feeling down, but now she was able to just let it pass; ever since talking to Orion back in the changing room, somehow, she felt different.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Lizzie now got to the point of why they were actually here.

Skye raised her hand still clutching the parchment, which Lizzie assumed was the letter Penny had spoken about.

“It’s my dad,” Skye sighed, “he’s hurt again.”

Lizzie’s face twisted in sympathy. “Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that. Is it something major?”

“No, just a dislocated shoulder, they fixed him right back up. But he’ll be missing the final matches of the season.” She sighed again. “I’ve been knowing that for ages, though.”

Confused, Lizzie tilted her head to the side. “What’s the problem then? What did his letter say?”

“He told me he’s going to be here tomorrow,” Skye told her quietly. “He didn’t tell me earlier because he wanted it to be a surprise.” She opened the folded letter up and quoted, “He ‘wants to watch his little girl hoist up the cup’.”

Skye sighed deeply and gripped the railing in front of them tightly as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Lizzie. What if we don’t win? Don’t want to sound like McNully, but our odds really aren’t the best.”

“Come on now, they’re not that bad. We have as good a shot as Gryffindor at winning.”

“Maybe, but a good shot’s not enough,” Skye replied. She was turning the letter around in her hands over and over again, tapping her foot against the wooden balustrade. “Quidditch is the only way I know to really get through to him. He’s expecting only the best from me; I can’t disappoint him.”

Her distress was palpable as she tugged on the hem of her jacket sleeves. “I just want to hear him tell me that he’s proud of me this one time,” she finished quietly.

Lizzie’s face softened at Skye’s confession. “Oh Skye, of course he’s proud of you! How couldn’t he be? You’re his daughter after all, he loves you. He has a weird way of showing it but he does. If he didn’t, he would never be so invested in how our team’s doing; it’s not because of Quidditch, it’s because of you. You could never disappoint him.”

Skye looked at her doubtfully, but also with a touch of hope; she wanted to believe Lizzie was right. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Not entirely convinced, Skye sighed again. “But what if something goes wrong?”

“Well, with that attitude it certainly will,” Lizzie told her off jokingly. When she saw Skye hanging her head though, she leaned forward to catch her eye.

“Listen up, Parkin, remember what you drilled into me? ‘No heartache, no distractions’. It helped me get a grip again and the same now goes for you.”

“Can’t really call that heartache though,” Skye huffed.

“Maybe not in the traditional way, but it’s definitely distracting you and we don’t need that right now.” Lizzie leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Apparently, Azariah, the Gryffindor Keeper, has been joking that we won’t get one shot past him tomorrow. Do you think we can let that stand?”

“Absolutely not,” Skye answered immediately, a lopsided grin forming on her face. She was already looking a lot more like her old, fiery self again. “He’ll have no idea what’s coming at him.”

“Exactly,” Lizzie concurred, “And not only will we show Gryffindor how it’s done, but the whole school and your dad are going to see what we’re capable of. We’re going to show your dad something he’s never seen before.”

Skye raised her eyebrows. “What would that be, though? I’m a Parkin after all. Dad’s the one having trained us ever since we were in our nappies. He knows exactly what a Parkin can do on a broomstick.”

“But he won’t be seeing any old Parkin play,” Lizzie corrected her. “What he’ll be seeing is the one and only SkyeParkin; flying ace, Chaser prodigy, nuisance extraordinaire.”

She grinned as Skye started laughing at her over dramatic praises before she continued more seriously, “When you just do what you’re doing best, your dad won’t even know what hit him.”

Wanting to end her pep talk on a lighter note, Lizzie added, “And if that’s still not enough for you, look at it that way: if there ever was an opportunity to show off to Rath, this is it.”

Just like Lizzie had anticipated, Skye guffawed at her last words. “That’s true,” she snickered. “Bet she’s livid they beat us and we’re still playing for the Cup instead of Ravenclaw.”

“Probably,” Lizzie agreed. “I still can’t believe we turned the season around that way,” she contemplated after another moment. “The win against Slytherin was quite the team effort, wasn’t it?”

“That it was; our team’s a smashing bunch.” Skye smiled openly at her. “I know I’m not exactly the most popular one with our mates, but I still couldn’t imagine a life without you lot anymore. Orion has a point somewhere when he calls us his family.”

Lizzie smiled back at her, happy to see her friend’s mood being lifted. “I guess he has.”

Skye’s gaze swept over the stands and down to the pitch, where it lingered on the goalposts once again. With a happy sigh she leaned back and watched the last traces of red fade from the darkening evening sky.

“Remember the first time we’ve been up here, way back in our second year?”

Lizzie chuckled at the memory. “Of course I do; can’t believe how long ago that was. I tried helping you with Charms; I still can’t believe you maimed that poor book like you did. And made me ride a jinxed broomstick,” she couldn’t help but add wryly.

Skye started giggling as well. “And set some Bludgers on you,” she recalled cheerily.

“And set some Bludgers on me.” Lizzie didn’t quite share her amusement, though.

Still laughing, Skye nudged her with her elbow. “But look how far you’ve come since then. I don’t know that many who can hold a candle to you now.”

Blushing at the compliment, Lizzie twisted the ends of her ponytail between her fingers and smirked. “I’ll give you that, it worked. Although your teaching methods definitely weren’t what you’d call conventional.”

Skye only grinned at that. “Maybe, but neither one of us is conventional either.”

“True,” Lizzie laughed lightly. “I’m glad everything went how it did, though.”

“Me too; if anyone had told me back then we’d be mates I’d have called them bonkers, but here we are. You’re certainly one of the best mates I’ve ever had,” Skye continued in a more serious fashion, “cheers for putting up with me all of the time; I know I can be quite the handful.”

Lizzie shook her head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They were silent for a bit, listening to the wind that had picked up rustling through the House banners below them.

It was Skye who spoke up again after some time. “Can’t believe the year’s almost over now. I’m sorry it wasn’t the best one for you, though; this whole situation is sucking big time. I’m not saying that because of the team, but because of you.”

Her eyes flickered over to Lizzie momentarily before she continued. “Maybe you and Orion will find a way after all. If any of my mates deserve to be happy, it’s you guys.”

Lizzie sighed; she had hoped this topic wouldn’t come up. “I think I made my peace with it, in a way. It’s not like I can change the way things are now anyway. It’s my fault everything blew up in my face, so it’s only fair I have to deal with the consequences now.”

She shifted her weight and made a conscious effort not to fiddle with the birthstone pendant she knew was resting under her jersey. “But let’s not talk about this now, alright? All I want to focus onis the match and getting our hands on that God forsaken Cup. After that, we’ll see what happens; it’s one step after the other.”

Lizzie clapped her hands on her knees, the sharp sound echoing across the silent stands and rose to her feet. “Speaking about it, my personal next step is going to the pre-match party, they’re probably waiting for us by now. Are you coming?”

To her surprise, Skye shook her head. “No, go ahead without me, maybe I’ll catch you later. I want to stay here for a bit now.”

Once again, her green eyes followed the perimeter of the stands facing them. Darkness had begun to settle over the pitch, the commentary box was barely discernible anymore.

“Need to set my mind for tomorrow properly. You’re right, Jameson, it’s full focus on winning now, everything else has to wait until after that bloody Cup is ours; it’s one step after the other.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #skye parkin #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #not much longer to go #redoing this cause tumblr fucked the first attempt up #im mad

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rye-views · 5 years

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A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. 8.4/10

About a count in Russia, who has been restricted to spend the rest of his days in the hotel that he is residing in.

This is written in such gentleman words. It pleases me. THIS BOOK IS MY AESTHETIC. This gentleman is my aesthetic. He exudes all that I love. I love that he carries himself with purpose in every little detail. I love that he is very observant and well aware of his surroundings. I love that he seems very similar to me. I love how I can tell that the author is well read, but when he describes reading books as neverending, I relate so hard. This man is me. I love the threesome game. They’re so educated. This book is just so attractive to me.

It’s interesting to finally read a book about Russia and their political perspective. This is new to me.

I like his relationship with various animals and the way he converses with them.

Mishka is honestly my fav. I love his life’s work revolving the bread. I love that he reads.

Memorable Quotes: “”Isn’t it astounding.” And when seen in that light, who could disagree?“ “As we age, we are bound to find comfort from the notion that it takes generations for a way of life to fade.” "Not only is it created by fanciful people who tire of repetition even more quickly than they tire of being told what to do, it is also vexingly ambiguous.” “What young lovers have not found themselves at this juncture in a silence so sudden, so seemingly insurmountable that it threatens to cast doubt upon their chemistry as a couple?” “But, in the end, it has been the inconveniences that mattered to me most.” “He had said that our lives are steered by uncertainties, many of which are disruptive or even daunting; but that if we persevere and remain generous at hear, we may be granted a moment of supreme lucidity–a moment in which all that has happened to us suddenly comes in focus as a necessary course of events, even as we find ourselves on the threshold of a bold new life that we had been meant to lead all along.“ “didn’t he also exhibit an essential faith that by the smallest of one’s actions one can restore some sense of order to the world?“

Updated Commentary: Updated 3 years later. (11.26.21.) 8.4/10

When the count and Nina were spying on the union on the balcony, the union's conversations were so male. I hate it.

There is so much culture, knowledge, and literature to this.

Mishka's passionate talk has got me heated. But, I do relate to the sentiments of not belonging in the right culture and how the alignment of the stars would bring me supreme lucidity.

I love the way the Count interacts with animals. I love how romantically he thinks/speaks. The way we discuss what history wine entails is beautiful. Same with food, people, weather, and so on. I just love looking at the world with beauty. It's also interesting because this haughty and elitist talk can turn one off but doesn't because we envision the protagonist as a gentleman. I love when we track back to previous characters because this book is so engrossing that I'd forgotten all about them. I love the way we talk to and respect children. I love his relationship with Sofia and I love Sofia. Alexander is so dumb and cute with her.

I enjoy the concept of knowing that you won't remember everything that happens so you just enjoy the moment.

What even is the collective good?

It's interesting to see the philosophy of Russia vs. America's. I want to know more about other countries' POV. Idle pursuits vs. necessities of adulthood is also an interesting concept to articulate. Our routines and ways changing over time is something I've already begun to think about.

The compendium of bread is so amusing. How ideal.

Memorable Quotes: "HIstory has shown charm to be the final ambition of the leisure class." "And there the rudeness of the day awaited." "So by their efforts, however humble, they have earned a measure of our gratitude and respect." "In other words, what the Count had observed in suite 317 was not simply an afternoon tea, but a moment in the daily life of a gentleman at liberty." "as every child knows, the drumbeat of the season must sound from within." "'The bounty of the sea...' 'The bottom of the sea.'" "To what end, he wondered, had the Divine created the stars in heaven to fill a man with feelings of inspiration one day and insignificance the next?" "But then, the measure of fifteen minutes is entirely different for a man in step than for a man with nothing to do." "a promise to shine everywhere and always to very depths of the last days--which, after all, is all that anyone has ever asked of love." "And suddenly it struck me that walking the length of Nevsky Prospekt was like walking the length of Russian literature." "As both a student of history and a man devoted to living in the present, I admit that I do not spend a lot of time imagining how things might otherwise have been." "a life in which all experiences are at arm's length, all sensations secondhand." "They spoke of the once and the was, of the wishful and the wonderful." "then she walked across the lobby at the pace of one who hopes to leave herself no room for second thoughts." "Sofia turned to the Count and raised both hands in the international symbol of Pick me up." "I'm quite fond of being left behind. It always gives me a whole new perspective on wherever it was I thought I was leaving." "just remember that unlike adults, children want to be happy." "Perhaps the aggregate experience of Time is a constant" "I have never seduced a soul with a jitterbug." "'One must make ends meet,' confirmed Audrius matter-of-factly, 'or meet one's end.'" "Men of intent could speak without the distractions of love and laughter."

#a gentleman in moscow #gentleman in moscow #amor towles #8.4 #book #review #commentary #rye-views

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