#i changed her battery like a few months ago because it was busted

[pikachu-is-gay]

does anyone on here know anything about the nintendo 3ds because mine is a dramatic bitch and i just wanna play pokemon

[mah-gah-lee]

walking in the snow and getting knocked by a dog - owen joyner x female reader

GIF ORIGINALLY POSTED BY  @lukefromsunsetcurve

Word Count: 1481 words

Summary: You were on your aunt’s house for holiday. When you went for a walk, you didn’t expect meeting a charming man and his dogs.

Warnings: fluffy

A/N: Okay, that’s my first Owen x female reader, again, don’t forget English is not my first langage. Hope you’ll enjoy

disclaimer: I don't know Owen personally or what his life is like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Owen's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life (family, potential girlfriend…I heard maybe he has one, so I don’t know but I don’t want to offend her).  All of this is not the reality

Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics @standingtalllove

 ______

You had been at your aunt's house for two days now and you couldn't be more bored than now. Being in Oklahoma was the worst. You didn't want to come there but, family traditions are everything, you've always been okay with that. So, every year your whole family gets together in someone's place, you change houses every year. This time you were supposed to go to your mother's sister and a few months ago she had moved to Norman, Oklahoma for work.

 You were in your cousin’s room and there was nothing to do. You were the older child of the family, almost an adult, and even if you get along well with your cousin, being 5 years apart really made a difference. You grabbed your laptop to browse the different Netflix shows to watch but nothing really tempted you. You sighed heavily in exasperation then your gaze shifted to the window. It was snowing and you loved the snow.

 “look (y/c/n), it’s snowing! You want to go for a walk?”

 “hell no, I hate being cold”

 You frowned your eyebrows and jumped on your own two feet, determined to go out in this weather. You opened your suitcase and looked for a warmer sweater and an extra pair of socks. When you came down to the hall, your mother was looking at you.

 "What are you doing?"

 "I'll take a walk around the neighborhood."

 "Make sure you have your phone if you ever get lost."

 "Mom, I'm twenty years old and I'm not going very far" you replied, rolling your eyes.

 You put on the perfect winter outfit: warm coat, hat, scarf and gloves and then you went out, checking that your phone still had enough battery. The cold hit your cheeks but that didn't stop you from smiling to the fullest. You loved this feeling. You buried your hands in your pockets and started walking around the neighborhood. You must have been about two blocks away when you noticed three people down the street. You scowled a little at the sight of the two Rottweilers. You knew that the breed did not make the character of the dog but you had apprehension about all the dogs that you met. When you were little, you got bitten by a Cavalier King Charles spaniel. So, even if the dogs were big, small, the muzzle flattened or not, you had always been a little scared.

You walked a few steps trying to avoid them. Unfortunately, you saw a blond make a video calling one of the dogs. And even though the couple who accompanied the young man, held the second dog on a leash, the grip released easily and the dog escaped, running in excitement towards his companion. In the heat of the moment, the dog got tangled in your paws and you fell backwards in a pile of snow.

 “Jesus”

 The second dog felt your face very quickly, giving you a light lick before leaving immediately, called by its owners. You stood for what seemed like several seconds on the ground, stunned. And when you blinked you saw the blond young man leaning over your face. He was holding back the dog he had called as best he could.

 "Are you alright?"

"I think your dog just struck a strike and busted my head"

A slight laugh escaped the blonde's lips and he reached out his hand to help you up.

"Sorry about that, they're very nice but a little excited. I'm Owen ..."

"Nice to meet you, Owen"

You dusted off the rest of the snow still clinging to your pants as the young man stared at you.

"Sooo, what's your name? Where do you live and how many fingers do I have?"

He asked you, showing you 3 fingers directly on your face. You have squared your eyes a little against the proximity of his hand in front of your eyes. It was quite spontaneous as a gesture.

"I'm (y / n) it's none of your business and you have 3 fingers...and that's a stupid question because every fucking time people show you 3 fingers"

 His laughter is freed and you take the time to detail it a little. How did he manage not to be cold with a simple sweater and a pink beanie?

 "Okay you're pretty straightforward and pretty funny. In my defense, I was checking that you didn't have a concussion"

 "asking me for information you don't know?" you joked

 "heyyy, I knew I had three fingers"

 You burst out laughing and then jumped when you felt something cold through your jeans. Your gaze fell on the dog sniffing your leg.

 "Bindi won't do anything to you. She's just ... getting to know you."

 You were a little tense but obviously, the dog seemed harmless, you tried a new note of humor

 "As long as she doesn’t try to get to know me like her sidekick did."

 You gave a nudge in the direction of the couple who were moving away with the second dog, you gave them a smile which they returned to you without hesitation. Owen smiled and gave you a mischievous look.

 "It's a tactic like any other for meeting pretty girls."

 You blushed at the compliment, the boy seemed so pleasant to live with, lively and with a lot of humor. You could hear it just by the sound of his voice that's why you didn't hold back from playing his game.

 "Oh great approach. Let your dog run over a girl, right in front of your parents. What a gentleman! I'm in love" you finished your dozing by dramatically fluttering your eyelashes.

 He smiled at you again, running his tongue over your lower lip. Your eyes were hypnotized by the gesture. Owen had a frank, bright smile so sincere you felt your heart leap in your chest. This man was really lovely.

 "Can I offer you a hot chocolate to apologize for this rather hectic meeting"

 You tilted your head over your boots, suddenly finding your shoes very interesting. You wanted to say yes to him and go with him for that hot chocolate. But you didn't know him, or barely. You bit your lower lip, giving him a sorry look.

 "Maybe next time. I'm soaked ... But ... maybe you can take me back to my aunt's place?"

 You couldn't help but notice the slightly disappointed look he gave you, but he agreed. You started to walk towards the house as Owen stood beside you. Silence had fallen for several minutes when you glanced discreetly at Owen ... and he also did when you weren't looking.

 Owen was tall, quite well built and you kept thinking about his smile and the way his eyes narrowed every time he laughed. He was really, really charming, but you didn't know how to act around him. After all, he was a complete stranger.

 "So where are you from?"

 "Chicago. I'm here for the holidays. How about you, have you always lived here?"

 "Until last year, yes. I lived in Vancouver for a while and ... I am moving to my own apartment soon"

 Your eyes widened in admiration when he mentioned Vancouver and you blinked.

 "You went to live in Canada ... How awesome it must have been. I love Canada!"

 Owen laughed and pursed his lips, forcing himself not to smile even though the attempt was in vain.

 "Oh my god, it sounds like Charlie"

 You frowned, not knowing if you should know who this Charlie was. You suddenly felt outside the conversation.

 "Oh ... Charlie is my old roommate ... He's Canadian and ... he loves his country."

 You gave him a knowing look and nodded. You could only agree with this Charlie. Canada seemed like such an amazing country. You arrived far too quickly in the street where your aunt's house was and you winced in disappointment.

 "My aunt lives on this street."

 Owen nodded and walked with you to the threshold. Binda sat down at his feet, quietly as the blond scratched the back of his head.

 "Can we ... can we just keep in touch and have that hot chocolate one of these days?"

 You gave him a shy smile, and nodded as Owen struggled to pull out his phone and type in your number when you gave it to him. When he put his phone back in his pocket, you gave him a soft look and walked over to him, placing a spontaneous kiss on his cheek. Without realizing it and very naturally, you caressed Bindi's head with a smile.

 "Bye Owen. Bye Bindi. See you one of these days for that hot chocolate."

 You then walked back into the house, closing the door behind you, leaving a rosy-cheeked Owen as his dog gasped in excitement.

 "What do you say Bindi? She looks pretty cool, doesn't she?"

[grizzly-bear-bane]

New Cigar Box, sneak peek

+

Arthur used to think that ‘growing up’ would be exciting, a whole new world of unlimited access right in his eighteen year old hands with this plastic ID and the wide eyed picture of himself trying his hardest not to smile. A new start, a change, a big change that meant them both moving forward, not backwards. A ticket to a bank account, for one. Legal cigarettes for another, which was a necessity for handling his stress. But most importantly, turning eighteen was an all access pass to an adult shelter he’d be able to walk right into with Eames without the threat of being hauled off by a social worker, which also meant no more Davids, no more nights spent outdoors or crashing on the floor of an apartment filled to the brim with junkies and the trappers that supplied their habits... Arthur's habit. 

Habits, now. 

He grimaces, taking a drink before he pours out a splash on the stone, earning glares as he toasts to Eames. 

At least this time he couldn't say it was his fault that everything had gone south. They had had to abandon the car in favor of hiding in Yusuf's apartment once Eames’ demons from Chicago finally caught up to him. Three months of living a life of pure luxury in that old station wagon with its no battery, no wheels, and no gas, but it had been theirs, one promise of Eames’ fulfilled. And it had been permanent, parked in the industrial garage like a mobile home. A home. 

Gone. 

“Maybe a month or two in a shelter and we can circle back to the car once Travis can get the parts we need to actually get that piece of junk on the road. Then,” Eames had said, “we’ll be out of here for good.”

Only, Travis never got those parts and Eames never got to follow Arthur to the shelter. Arthur had gotten them a bed, went to sleep, woke up and Eames was still gone. No goodbyes, not a hug, nothing. Just the threat of an eight year prison sentence and the promise of deportation back to England for a stupid armed robbery.

“Don't worry about that, baby, you know your Eames always finds a way to get back to you. I'm not going anywhere.” 

But even Eames didn't sound confident, not even after the trial was over.

“Two years. We can manage that... right?”

Arthur knew Eames’ tone had nothing to do with being afraid of prison. Eames wasn't afraid of anything. 

Except Arthur himself, or rather the kinds of trouble Arthur could get into now that he was on his own again. 

“Just keep your head down, boy, stay in the shelter as long as you can, and for god's sake, stay out of the streets.

And damn if he hadn't tried. He'd stayed put in the shelter, he’d kept pace with his medication, even jumped at the chance for free testing at the clinic on the second floor! He'd hustle once a week to keep their money growing in the account, he'd kept his head down just as Eames had told him to, tried his best to be civil with his new cot neighbors, and had done his best to stay the hell away from Yusuf, Nash, and anybody else with drugs. 

But as always, ‘trying’ was just a fucking delay for the inevitable. 

Even hiding out in a shelter couldn’t protect him from the one thing that had ruined him long before drugs did: men. The male counselor with his ‘clumsy’ hands, the creep in the cot closest to the bathroom, a brand new stalker… 

And him.

Arthur’s been wandering the streets on a binge since spotting him, the one monster that’s been haunting his every step since puberty. 

David hadn't seen Arthur but Arthur had seen him as that man loaded groceries into his minivan, a brand new batch of kids bouncing around him and his wife in excitement. Save for one boy. One scrawny little nothing sulking quietly as one of the bigger kids shoved past him. 

It was enough to send Arthur into a tailspin. Even when he'd been on his own in this city, way before meeting Eames, he still hadn't ever been this scared, this sick, this damaged as he was with that monster standing just on the other side of the parking lot of where Arthur had been bouncing in a trucker’s lap for Eames’ commissary funds.

Arthur's not even sure how long he's been staring at the payphone on the sidewalk. He's been riding on a high all afternoon but it's fading. He's lonely and growing more and more sick as his anxiety starts to build up again, but he's far too terrified to call… anybody, really, certain that Yusuf and Ariadne must have tossed out his bag by now, thinking him dead in a ditch or the river after weeks of no sign of him.

After his trouble in the shelter, Eames had told him to go back to Ariadne’s place with his things where he could at least be safe from strangers even if it meant putting an end to his quest for sobriety, but Arthur had wanted to stick it out, stay clean, and prove to Eames that he could handle himself. After seeing David though, he couldn't handle the shelter any longer. Just being near a man sober sent him right into a panic attack. 

It was like coming home, as easy as peeling a slice of cheese off its plastic, he'd quickly found some of Nash’s fellow junkies, though thankfully not Nash himself, and had silenced that panic. Hard. 

Heroin, he found, didn’t clear out his pockets nearly as fast as coke did. How anybody could pass up cheaper, stronger drugs when high, Arthur didn’t know, but once that quick trip to the clouds was over? Replaced with puking and more puking and other fun things coming out of other fun places? He was more than happy to leave heroin forever and spend more money on a drug he could trust, one that was familiar, rather than risk any more bad trips. Unlike heroin, coke didn’t make him feel so bad so quickly. Coke didn't judge. It only held him close and kept him safe, alert, but he’d never been high on the streets by himself before. 

Anxiety was one thing, but uncontrollable paranoia had had him clinging to that high just to pluck up the courage to show up at Yusuf's apartment, relieved beyond words when the squatter outside his door told him that Ariadne had left and gave him as good of an address to go find her that the dozing girl could muster. 

It took him the rest of the evening and the last of his coke to find the apartment complex but he'd managed, still looking like a battered wreck after that fuck up with the truck driver. 

But it didn't matter. Just like how his aunt would rush to his mother no matter how scared or how bloody her mouth was or how it stained the front of her dress, Ariadne had opened the door and hugged Arthur tight. Her long lost, chosen little brother.

It was nothing like Yusuf’s place. Small, simple, but clean and dry and safe. Even the streetlights looked that much brighter coming in through her open windows as Arthur sat at her kitchen table and let her dab days-old blood away from his busted lip. She gives him a pack a frozen broccoli to hold to his swollen cheek.

“I'm not going to preach to you, or judge or… anything… right now. I'm not even going to try to stop you. You've been through enough already.”

For some reason hearing that made him panic. He shook his head quickly. “No, no, I'm not, well, I only relapsed a few days ago.”

“Days? Arthur, you've been missing for weeks now. Eames’ been worried sick. So was I. Anything could have happened to you… and it looks like… anything did happen… Arthur--”

“I got sick and puked on a trucker in his cab so he beat the shit out of me. It's nothing--I’m going to get clean this time. I'm totally done, I promise.”

That promise had hung in the air between them, waiting for Ariadne to accept those words, but she waved them off, as disbelieving as Arthur had felt just repeating that promise himself. Even he knew he was nowhere near ready to handle a withdrawal.

It was soul crushing in its truth, but rather than leave him in that pain alone, Ariadne had gotten up to give him a hug. She’d held him for a small eternity before she’d wiped her eyes and looked at him earnestly. 

“You don't have to make me any promises. I care about you, Arthur, and that’s not conditional. That being said, I'm really, really hoping that you don't go off in search of drugs while you're here, but...if you need them, then...okay. Yusuf and I are still friends even if…Just say the word and I'll get it for you. Whatever you need until you are ready to quit. Okay? Just...please stay. Everybody's so worried about you, Arthur. But you're here now, and you’re safe, and alive, and that's all that matters. We will figure out the rest later.” She'd paused, frowning even as she lowered her voice and asked, “Do you need...something...right now?”

He’d just nodded at the table, fidgeting so much he’d tangled his hands in his shirt, unable to say or do anything else without falling apart hearing her words. 

“Arthur?”

He’d tried to say a simple thank you, but all he could process was David and his constant reminders that Arthur was worthless. “I don't deserve this. Especially not from you. I don't deserve any of this. I shouldn't have come here. You have your life in a good, good place here. I'm so sorry.”

“No, no, no. Why not?”

“Because…” He’d opened his mouth, ready to read off a mental list but with her rubbing his hands, even while holding them tightly to stop him from leaving, he couldn't seem to find one. He sat back in silence, staring at his hands in his lap.

+

[danetobelieve]

Who Ghost There? || Cassie and Winston

“Linda, you remember Linda?” Cassie ventured to the woman by the library stacks. “She gave me the keys,” Cassie held them up to show her in evidence. She’d arrived just before closing, and the place was mercifully dead this time of night. The fact that she didn’t have to break in for once was a welcome change. “She asked me to come talk to you. You’ve been here a couple months, right?” ��Oh,” Gladys breathed out. “You have no idea,” she sniffed dryly and stuffed her hands into the opposite sleeves of her cardigan set, fumbling around for what Cassie was sure was a handkerchief. “There’s been some huge mistake I’m not-” “-Supposed to be here, right,” Cassie finished for them, blunt but not unkindly, “which is what I’m trying to say. What I’ve been trying to tell you.” That is, if Gladys would focus and listen for more than a second at a time and not just what she wanted to hear before she lost it again and they’d have to start this conversation all over again. “I can help with that.” “What do you mean?” “If you step inside that circle,” she pointed out to the removal circle she’d drawn for her earlier, “you can start over.” “Oh, do you promise?” Gladys was practically salivating at the thought. Cassie would have felt bad if she didn’t know Gladys had spent the past couple weeks scaring the crap out of her former boss and anybody in the line of fire when she wasn’t launching printer toners. “A couple minutes of your time and it’s done,” Cassie bluffed. “I step in here and--what was that?” Gladys whirled around as there was a slight commotion from elsewhere in the building. “Who is that?” Cassie was supposed to be the only one in the building, she was almost positive. Almost, but the distraction from the noise was just enough for Gladys to start questioning things and that was the last thing she needed. Crap. - Honestly Winston wondered how anyone who knew about the other things that went on in White Crest got on with their lives. Winston had never been this far behind on their work and it had meant some long hours in the library. They had finished about an hour ago, gotten all the way home before realising they’d left their laptop charger in the library. Making the arduous trip backwards to campus. None of this would’ve been so painful if they had their car, but unfortunately after their trip with Deirdre they had been forced to put their car into Alain’s garage for repairs. As they walked through the darkened, mostly empty library, they had to admit that they found themselves lucky that the door was still open. After all at this time of night they would’ve expected everyone to have gone home. As they spotted their laptop charger, which they needed to use their laptop which was dead, they managed to slip over a tile of loose carpeting. Stumbling, they grabbed a bookshelf to steady themselves which caused a few books to tumble over onto the floor. Hearing someone call something out, they quickly grabbed their laptop charger and moved towards the sound. “Hey, sorry, I was just getting my laptop charger, I forgot it and I haven’t quite finished everything I needed to do on it and y’know … of course my laptop battery is pretty much dead when that happens!” They paused for a moment as they came into view of the lady who appeared to have asked who they were. That was when they spotted what appeared to be the faint outline of an elderly woman. “Who is that?” - “Just a car passing by,” Cassie attempted to assure Gladys as she took out the salt and started to line with it and put it back on the table, “now if you-” “Who’s there?” Gladys called out again as if anyone except her could hear her and shot a livid look in their direction. Who is that? Cassie hadn’t heard the other person step inside the room until they’d spoken. Cassie followed their trail to where Gladys was stood, fussing with her sleeves, growing more and more agitated by the minute. Shit. Standing a little away with some computer cable in hand someone was staring straight at Gladys. Great. No, they were talking about her. Not Gladys. “Sorry. We’re closed. Come back tomorrow,” Cassie bluffed again, trying to sound as normal as possible despite the mess on the floor. “Who told you you could come in here!” Gladys shrieked towards them from the other end of the room. “What is this mess?” The mental fog passed over her and the anger set back in as she looked at the design Cassie had made on the floor. “Who are you?” Gladys was losing it again. Forgetting, and Cassie would have to have this whole conversation over again and fix up her circle before she sent her on her way and the night was over. There was no time for that Cassie started the chant and managed to get part of the way through before it started to go south. “Now just you wait a minute, you brazen little-” Gladys didn’t bother to finish her insult as a library stack scraped a few inches along the floor and knocked the salt down from the table, shattering it. Where the wood scratched had reached the chalk circle Cassie had so painstakingly drawn and Gladys broke free and stepped out again. “You.” Gladys yelled to the only other living person in the room. “Get. Out!” “Get back in there!” Cassie gestured back at the chalk circle, “I worked hard on that!” and watched for a second as Gladys tore off in the general direction of the accidental intruder. - Winston wasn’t an expert on any of this stuff yet. Hell, there were weird things happening to them left and right and honestly they definitely weren’t ready to admit that that was actually a thing. The levitating, the lights, sinkholes, it was all indicative that there was maybe something more going on in their life, at least more so then they would’ve usually liked to admit.

But Winston was also a pragmatist, and so when they made the decision to accept that their world view was going to have to expand they also made the decision that they would have to adapt with it.

“Oh, don’t worry I don’t need to stay or anything,” Winston replied at being told the library was closed, “I’m happy just to leave now that I’ve got my stuff…” They squinted at what they were seeing, because sometimes there were two women, one stood inside a chalk circle. The other talking gently to her, and then one of them would almost static out of existence.

Then she was getting very agitated at Winston and they were just about to tell them that they shouldn’t worry because they would go and then suddenly she was charging towards them with a volatile look in their eyes.

As she hurtled towards Winston, they didn’t know what to do. Did they get out the way? Was it too late to just leave? This seemed like a very extreme reaction for a simple mistake!

“Hey, look I’m sorry, I can go!” they stammered before she bowled them over onto their back. - Okay, from an outside perspective this wasn’t great. This looked like exactly what it was. Granted. What exactly could she say here? I’m doing some cult stuff. I’ve got an interpretive art showing? I’m summoning a brain for finals week? She had nothing. Cassie watched as they continued to offer apologies and excuses and made to leave when Gladys descended on them, knocking them sprawling onto their back and moved to help them back up. “Apage!” Cassie yelled to Gladys, “hic non receperint vos,” she snarled, “and I’m going to get real creative here if you keep this up. Your choice.” Right, she snaked at herself. That was happening, soon as she manifested some replacement salt mix from thin air. She could do it without it, but it was risky. First thing was getting them out of there and the line of fire. Confident as she sounded, with the other person there anything she tried risked getting them caught up in the crossfire way more than they had already. Grabbing up a handful of the salt that was left, just enough to season a plate of fries she tossed it in Gladys’ direction as the windows pushed themselves open. “Get up, come on. Go,” Cassie yelled to the stranger as Gladys geared up for another hissy fit. She saw the desks start to rattle and snapped her attention back to them. “Go, go now,” she urged at the newcomer right as she rushed forward to shove the first library desk out of their line of fire as Gladys sent them scraping along the floor towards them. - Winston wasn’t sure how they’d been knocked to the ground. They weren’t entirely sure that they had felt anything either, it was weird but one second they’d been stood up and one second they were on the floor. Then whoever the other person was began speaking in Latin, maybe some other dead language but it was definitely not one that Winston recognised. “What the?!” They gulped gently and sighed for a second, of course they would somehow get wrapped up in something this dumb. “Uh, I’m not sure that I should leave you here …” Honestly Winston was also curious as to what was going on, “What the hell is this?” They asked as they looked at the woman. Her entire visage seemed to fade in and out of reality and she was shimmering and shaking as the other person chanted. “Why is there a ring of salt?” It was possible that curiosity may yet kill the cat, especially when Winston was a dumb dumb dumb cat. Cassie made a beeline for Gladys, turned out being dead suited her. It made her fast and spry for an undead sixty-five-year-old. As Cassie approached Gladys shot her a nasty look that could’ve withered plants. Busted. Kid gloves were off then, great. Gladys had the smarts to get herself out of dodge as soon as Cassie got within a few inches of her and misted out, theatrical light flickering in tow. Yeah, nice try. This isn’t over. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Linda didn’t mention that little fun fact when Cassie had agreed to do it. Thanks for that one, jackass.  - Shoving one of the displaced library desks out of her path she addressed them, “You asking questions here?” she asked incredulously. The hell weren’t they climbing the walls to get out. Screw it. “You see an old lady?” Cassie gestured towards the space where Gladys had just vacated, she really didn’t have time to crew around here. “See that tantrum? She’s dead and very pissed off about it,” Cassie answered honestly, hoping that would be enough for them to be weirded out and take the first exit out of there. “She’s been doing that a bunch and I was this close to booting her,” she pinched her fingers together. “So, I got this,” she reassured them, “and I don’t need an audience, stage fright,” she shrugged. “So if you wouldn’t mind-” The sound of every lock turning, every window slamming shut rang out through the rooms and hall. Cassie shut her eyes over for a second in frustration and glanced back at the newcomer again. “Or not.” - Honestly, Winston couldn’t help but feel somewhat out of their depth. Blanche had mentioned ghosts. They’d even mentioned exorcists. But they hadn’t actually really processed that all of them were real until they saw the old lady fully disappear through a book case. “I mean, kind, she looked … weird,” they bit their lip for a second before adjusting their glasses nervously, “I’ll go don’t worry, you definitely seem like you’ve got this.” They weren’t ready to mess with ghosts. Dealing with ghouls and hedge hounds had been one thing, they could even deal with the fact that they had discovered that so many people weren’t exactly what they appeared to be. Swallowing, they were about to turn and leave and go home and google the best folk methods of avoiding ghosts, and then they heard the windows slam shut. A moment later the doors slammed and locks clicked in place. This didn’t exactly seem good. “Uh …” they were pretty speechless really, ghosts were 100% not something that they were prepared for, “... does this mean she’s going to come after us?” It seemed like the logical conclusion, but if she was going to say no this just meant she wanted some alone time, then Winston wouldn’t have minded

-

“It means she chickened out and went into hiding,” Cassie answered, for now at least. In the seconds of calm Cassie looked over at them properly for the first time as they pushed their glasses further up. They were just a kid. Just stood there looking lost like they wanted to be anywhere else but there right at that moment. She couldn’t blame them for that. They were just a college kid caught up being in the wrong place at the wrong time she realised with a twinge of guilt. She remembered her tone from before and softened, “and maybe not if we’re fast,” she answered honestly. That last word being the operative word. “Here,” Cassie patted her coat pockets down and pulled out the coffin nail. Not much, but maybe it was enough for them to feel a little better. “This touches them and it’s like getting tased,” she offered it out to them, “just don’t lose it. They’re not easy to come by.” Gladys was smart, but not all that smart. They couldn’t get out, but that meant she couldn’t either while she was pulling that particular stunt. There was a slim shaky advantage there, so long as Gladys didn’t twig what they were doing up to a point. “You know where the staffroom is?” She asked them, an idea forming in her head as she conjured up a plan B. 

- “If she is a ghost what could make her want to go into h-” Winston fell silent as a light bulb clicked on in their forehead and they began to realise what this woman was. “Wait, wait, wait, this is an iron nail and you were speaking Latin like in the movies, does this mean that you’re an exorcist?” Taking the nail all the same, Winston gripped it tightly and decided that they would keep this on them until they had some better way of defending themselves against ghosts. This was a weird situation and to be perfectly honest, Winston wasn’t entirely sure that they were really ready to be dealing with this. But they didn’t exactly have a choice at this point in time. “Got it, Iron nail is a ghost taser, and we need to find the staff room. That I can help with, follow me.” Leading their way out of the library, Winston turned left and then right and then left once more. “Here,” they said, grasping the door handle and stepping into an empty staff room. 

-

“Guilty,” Cassie held her hands up. Really no point in lying, was there. “The movies got a lot wrong, but…yeah,” she admitted with a little reservation “Most people expect a Priest or some guy in a trench coat so you know what? Works for me,” Cassie shrugged. “Easier to stay under the radar,” she started and corrected herself, “most of the time anyway.” The present moment didn’t count, she had a good track record, considering. “Wasn’t expecting company,” she let out a breath, “not your fault,” she added quickly. “Alright lead the way, appreciate it.” Cassie straightened up and followed along as Winston led her out and down to the staffroom. “Okay,” once inside she opened out the cupboards and drawers until she found what she was hoping for and let out a sigh of relief at her fortune. Table salt. Not perfect, not great, but it was something. It would do. “Think we can work with this,” she held up her find at them. “Keep hold of that like that if it makes you feel better,” she pointed back to the iron nail they were holding, “that’s pure iron, you see so much as a breeze pass by you, you use that thing. Zero hesitation, got it?” With that Cassie gripped the salt bottle and crouched at the doorway and lined the entryway with it. One down, who knew how many more to go. 

-

“Honestly, I’ve never regretted going back to get something more, if that makes you feel any better…” Winston wasn’t exactly the person with a plan in situations like this, but at least whoever this was seemed to know what they were doing. As they watched her search through all of the cupboards, they were beginning to really wonder what the fixation with iron and salt was. “Are iron and salt actually useful against ghosts they asked?” Maybe Deirdre hadn’t been flippant when she had suggested that they invested in an axe and some salt. After all axes were usually made of iron. “I’m Winston by the way,” they said as they scanned the room repeatedly, suddenly every creak, every clunk and every churn that the build made was a potential ghost that Winston’s only defense against included using an iron nail. “So, as a … uh … professional exorcist, in your ... distinguished opinion, what are the odds of this going really badly?”

- “Hmm?” Cassie’s attention was snapped back from her work. “Oh, yeah. They’re usually the go-to for this kind of thing. There’s some variations, but those two are the core kit. Lucky this stuff is everywhere, right?” She held the salt up. Stopping every now and again to draw a few shapes seemingly at random with the salt here and there as she went, Cassie closed her eyes again for a second and tried to map out the picture she had in her head with the layout of the ground floor so far. If she could get even half of a banishment circle mapped out on this side, they had a decent chance here. “Hey Winston, I’m Cassie. Welcome to Exorcisms 101 I guess,” she offered them a tentative smile and a lame attempt to make light of the situation.

Seeing her breath come out in puffs, Cassie turned back to Winston after she was done lining another handful of thresholds as they travelled. She knew they were getting warmer; the further they explored the colder it seemed to get. Dead giveaway. Gladys could hide, but she couldn’t run. For a second she thought about lying, but thought better of it and answered, “I’ve been doing this a while. This goes right I might need a little assistance towards the end.” Cassie looked over at Winston properly, trying to read them. “I need somebody to watch my back, keep any projectiles from getting close enough to take me out once I start the Latin up again. I have to finish it, you understand? I stop and the whole thing goes to hell,” she wasn’t sure how to phrase it but, “that’s not a great place to be,” she finished. If it went wrong…well, guess she’d burn that bridge when she crossed it.

-

The air seemed to grow cold as they travelled further into the building. It wasn’t long before Winston’s breath began to frost in front of them as they walked. “Nice to meet you too Cassie,” Winston replied with a smile, “let’s hope I don’t have to do Exorcism 102.” Pausing for a second, they considered what Cassie was saying. If they hadn’t been previously convinced that they were out of their depth they were convinced now that they were. This was something that they had never had any experience with before and they had to be honest they didn’t want to get experience with it now. “Uh, sure, I can look out for you,” they lied, it wasn’t that they wouldn’t try, they just weren’t entirely certain that they had the necessary requisite skills to make it happen as effectively as they would like, “if I’m going to be potentially fighting a ghost then it’d be super cool if I could get some salt, y’know if you think that you can spare it.” 

- “Soon as I’m done with this it’s all yours,” she offered a reassuring smile in their direction. “You can go nuts with it.” Hey, as soon as she was done maybe she could try out drawing a circle covering one of the windows, pry the thing open, and launch the poor kid out onto somewhere grassy to soften the landing. Yeah, that was happening. Snapping herself back to reality she had to concentrate again before she drew in another part of the circle. It was hard to keep perspective and there was more room for error here than she’d have liked. Last thing either of them needed was to get to the finish line and trip up because she screwed up and missed something.

Cassie wasn’t about to tell Winston, but she was going in a little blind here without knowing the layout. Unaware of what was happening above them as the light fixture began to flicker followed by the creaks something loosened above them and the others followed suit in a cascading line. The last thing she heard before the library erupted again was the buzzing of electricity and the clicking as they sparked. 

-

A cold bead of sweat trickled down Winston’s back as they took a deep breath to try and calm themselves. “Cool, all mine, great,” Winston was doing their best to convince themselves that this was something that was really worthwhile and they definitely weren’t going to die because of it. If you had told them a mere few weeks ago that this was about to become their lot in life and that they were about to have to reach a point of acceptance with all of this, then Winston wasn’t sure whether that would’ve made them want to laugh or cry. At the moment they weren’t sure which was worse. But they were determined to keep themselves together right now. They could have their nervous breakdown later if needs be. “Uh …” they said glancing up at the eruption of sparks, static and light from above before looking back at Cassie, “ … I am guessing that wasn’t you?” Winston wasn’t sure what the hell was going on here but they were pretty sure that this wasn’t a usual part of the deal with ghosts.

-

“What wasn-?” Cassie stopped, already feeling the tell-tale pin prickles along her skin at the back of her neck. Noticing the lights flicker and crackle, “no,” she replied flatly, “hey Winston? This might be a very good time to get going.” Cassie straightened to stand just as the fluorescent light fixture above her head clattered towards the ground. Knocking against the top of her back she let out a string of curses and darted forwards as the fluorescent rods inside crackled and exploded. “Time to move,” Cassie called out and reached out a hand and pulled at the top of Winston’s shoulder to try and force them in front of her as the lights started to shake and rain down sparks behind her. Gladys was close, just out of sight. Coward. “Knock it off,” she yelled out and pushed Winston forwards as the pictures lining the walls began to judder and dance on either side of them.

-

As the suspended LED lights came swinging down towards them, Winston was fortunate enough to have noticed early enough to still do something about it. They darted forward ahead of Cassie and rushed between the shelves of the library as the light’s swung down at them, crackling and flickering. “You’re right, I definitely don’t want to be stuck waiting around here if I can possibly help it at all,” Winston replied with a frown as they kept running, their breath growing more ragged by the second. Sparks and flashes exploded all around them as the lights around them began to pop off one at a time. Shards of glass sprayed Winston as they kept running. “Is this what you get to do all of the time?” Winston asked with a frown, immediately deciding that they really didn’t want to be an exorcist anymore, “Because this really really really sucks and I don’t want to be doing it anymore.” They were sure that Cassie knew what she was doing, they just hoped that whatever they had planned they did a bit quicker.

-

“Pretty much,” Cassie called over as she caught up again, “some do this stuff in pairs, I don’t have that option so,” she shrugged. That ship sailed a while ago now. This was better though, things went wrong and she only had herself to look out for, normally anyway. Taking the chance to step back into the open while it was quiet Cassie caught sight of a decorative plaque shuddering away from the wall and slamming the floor. Cassie stepped further towards it and let out a heavy sigh. This was temper tantrum stuff. Gladys had some strength here, granted, but this was amateur hour. Lining the way as they moved Cassie tried again to map out the floor in her head and made her next move, doubling back as if away from the commotion, hoping Gladys would see it as a retreat and follow. “Working on it,” she added after a second glance over at them. They were rattled as hell, no doubting that, “but you’re handling this a lot better than most I’m willing to bet here,” she offered them. “No huddling in the corners or histrionics,” she said in an appreciative tone. “Think of it this way, you get out of here you’ve got a crazy story to tell as a fun icebreaker,” she offered in joking commiseration. “Or, you do what most people do; wait till it’s over and never speak of it again. Back this way,” she instructed, her breath more ragged than she’d have liked. “Safer,” she added, hoping Gladys took the bait and turned heel.

-

“Is there a reason that you’re not working in pairs?” Winston asked, “I know you said you don’t have the option to so if it’s like a sore topic then you obviously don’t have to tell me, like I’m sure you know that, anyway, I just … don’t worry about it y’know.” Awkward might as well be their middle name at this point. As Cassie seemed to decide that it was time for them to get away from here, Winston found themselves following closely. “Is it that you don’t want a partner or …?” Winston wasn’t suggesting that they could become Cassie’s partner or anything. Between ghosts and supernatural things taking over critters or being the critters themselves Winston thought that ghosts were more terrifying because they couldn’t exactly do much against them. But witnessing this, Winston wondered if maybe this was something they could do. Especially with the magic that they’d discovered that they just possessed. “Uh … thanks? Maybe I’m still in shock and the histrionics will come soon, I’m not making any promises but it’s pretty useless to be histrionical about something you can’t control or even see.” They considered the whole thing and shrugged. “I’ve had to deal with enough crazy this year, don’t think I want to start dealing with anymore if I can possibly help it. I’ll probably wait till it’s over and then bombard you with questions in my natural environment and habitat … the internet. Consider yourself warned.” They followed Cassie away from their spot, hearing bookshelves rattle and books shake in their place as Gladys took the bait and followed. 

-

Cassie Gave Winston a brief look before she realised they were just making conversation. “Couldn’t find anybody I clicked with,” she answered after a beat. “The guy that mentored me…retired,” her fingers brushed against the watch on her left wrist subconsciously. “A few I ran into after that drank too much of the Kool Aid. Had kind of a disagreement,” well, that was one way of putting it she added mentally. “So, I’m solo. Doesn’t bother me,” there was more than a little truth to that. The independence was nice, it was a lot more work, but it was something she valued. “We get out of here you can ask whatever you want. Cat’s out of the bag here,” she joked as the space between the shelves she was walking narrowed with a scrape. The one closest to her wobbled but didn’t manage to topple.Try Harder.

“Hey,” she kept her voice even and squeezed herself between the gap that was left. “Another eleven months of it left, so you never know. Maybe this fills your quota for crazy for the year,” Cassie offered as a futile silver lining. “Either way, I appreciate the non-hysterics even if it’s just for now. Helps a lot, really.” Cassie was about to ask what Winston’s natural environment was when the back of her neck pricked again. She sensed her before she caught a glimpse. Without alerting her attention Cassie glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw Gladys stationed through the gap in one of the shelves out of the corner. Cassie didn’t have to look right at her to gauge the look she was giving them as she trailed alongside them like a shark circling the water. Cassie kept her gaze away and turned to Winston, feigning obliviousness. “I don’t see her,” she gave Winston a look that she hoped they could read. Play along, she nodded, eyebrows raising a little. “Maybe we should head back and try the doors again.”

-

“I guess this is the sort of job where you really only want someone that knows what they’re doing and you get along with, but if I were going after ghosts and other such stuff then i don’t know whether I’d want to do it on my own.” Winston wondered if perhaps retired was code for something else, something more painful that they weren’t ready to talk about yet. Despite that, they focussed on trying to get out of here alive, they could grill Cassie on what being a glorified ghost hunter was like.  “Hopefully I make it through the next eleven months,” Winston joked in reply with a laugh, “to be perfectly honest with you this has been perhaps the most eventful January that I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with and I don’t know if it is something I want to keep dealing with.” They weren’t being serious of course. But these sorts of situations were starting to bring out a different side of Winston. Were they beginning to adjust to being in all of these life or death situations? “If it helps you concentrate on keeping us from dying then you’re not going to find me complaining about it.” Winston caught the glint in Cassie’s eyes and nodded vigorously, drawing on every piece of dramatic education they’d ever had -- which was not a lot. “I think you’re right, this place is really spooking me out and I think we should just get out.” They had to stop themselves from winking, after all they couldn’t see this ghost and they didn’t know if it was watching.

-

“Not getting each other killed is up there at the top,” Cassie replied, “ but yeah. Helps to be on the same page, that’s not easy to find. So, I’ve been going it solo. Working out so far, present experience excluded,” she added quickly. “Getting used to it, it’s not easy. I’m not going to lie, but it’s doable.” Catching the nod and the enthusiastic backtracking comments. Oh, good. They were on the same page here. There was a flood of short-lived relief at that as Winston followed her lead and they made their way back to the main foyer. The theatrics continued around them with doors slamming, flickering lights…the works. Great. “Think it’s safe to say this should earn you enough points to have at least a few months free of any more, uh, events.” Cassie gave Winston what she hoped passed for a warm smile, she hadn’t done it in a while and led them on in front of her. “So, what about you?” Cassie asked in an offering of distraction. Dodging one of the office chairs that careened out from one of the rooms. As they moved and pushed one of the wayward carts back down the hall. “What’s so important about a computer wire you’ve got to go back at closing for it?”

Gladys was close by. Cassie didn’t have to turn around behind her to know she was there as the temperature took another drop. It was as though she was trying to lure them back to the main foyer where she thought she’d have the upper hand. Cassie wasn’t about to make her think otherwise and willingly allowed herself to be herded.  As if to illustrate that point Gladys decided to chase them forwards with the frames lining the walls as they flew out from their fastenings. Cassie grabbed hold of Winston and propelled them forwards.

-

“I cannot express my gratitude at hearing that,” Winston replied with a gentle chuckle, “I’m sure you’re really you know experienced with this, and I’m not offering here, but do you not worry that you could maybe be going after a ghost on your own and something happens? Shouldn’t someone watch your back?” As Cassie led their act, Winston honestly found themselves wishing that they would get a few weeks of peace, if not months. “You can only hope that everything calms down, but I’m starting to think that all of this stuff only gets more intense and obvious when you know that it is out there and you know what you are looking for.” She smiled at them and Winston felt a warm reassurance run through them. This was as close to a supernatural professional as you got, they weren’t exactly sure where they stood on the morals of ghost … busting, but if they were going to be attacked by something they weren’t about to complain when someone defended them. “I’m a Cyber forensics and security post graduate student, my laptop has the majority of my work on it and it’s dead. I have a paper due in by midnight that I have to submit via a portal thing,” they shrugged. School was school. Allowing themselves to be led by Cassie, they felt sweat soak into their t-shirt as they got closer to the door. “I hope it’s unlocked…” they weren’t completely acting this time, because they were beginning to wonder what would come next.

-

“I’d be lying if I said no,” Cassie admitted reluctantly. “I’m lucky I made it past thirty, a lot of us don’t even get that far. Hazard of the job, but I know what I signed up for,” she shrugged. As they made it back to the front Cassie reached out and pantomimed trying the door and cussed under her breath. “Okay, there’s a kit back in there with my bag,” she pointed back to the room this all started in and made her way through. If she managed to pull this off, she was sleeping for a week she promised herself. Her body was already protesting at the fight that was about to ensue. “Might be cutting it a little fine with that,” Cassie grimaced at the midnight deadline, “don’t think rabid librarian on the rampage is going to fly for late submission exemptions.”

They were close now, close enough that her next moves had to be quick and they had to be smart. Time was of the essence here before sweet Gladys decided the hell with this and threw a bigger temper tantrum as she continued to trail along behind them sending anything not rooted to the spot in their direction. Gladys had some power behind her, but she really wasn’t all that smart for a librarian. They had that going for them. Surprisingly, the only things that weren’t being thrown were the books as she made towards the centre of the room. Before Gladys had time to make another move as she followed them inside Cassie called out, “Hey Winston?” and pointed back to the door as she tossed them the salt container. “You want to do me a solid and line that doorway there,” she gestured. “Might want to stand in between the frame afterward.” Finally, Cassie turned to look at Gladys, the tone in her voice flat. “You done yet?” “That doesn’t sound particularly appealing if I am totally honest with you.” 

-

Winston replied non chalantly. Call them old fashioned but they wanted to make it past the age of thirty if they could help it. “I hope you make it till you’re old, grey and using a walker.” They wondered if given the current climate of the town any of them would make it that long. “I know my professor and I’m sure they’ll forgive me,” Winston said as they realised that having a late assignment was hardly the worst of their concerns when there was a dangerous librarian as a ghost who was doing her utmost to help them join her in the after life. Following Cassie through to the next room, Winston looked around and tried to think of how they would best do this. As Cassie tossed the salt shaker their way, Winston fumbled with it and finally managed to snatch it out of the air. Placing salt under the frame of the doorway, they took their place beneath it and nodded to Cassie. “Done and ready, what next??”

-

“First opportunity you get, soon as you feel it lifting,” she looked back at the doorway. I want you to hightail it out. You’ll know, you’ll feel it,” she instructed them before she ventured further inside the room towards the centre. At first, Gladys made as if to lurch forward to lash out again “Now you listen here-” she cut herself off before she could finish and stopped. Confusion drew slowly across her features. A fun mixture of disbelief and shock, as though she was taking it in but her brain was still not quite getting it just yet. Once the haze of rage fell away, Gladys seemed to finally clock the makeshift banishment circle she’d walked herself right into and her face creased in anger and bemusement. Busted. “What--what is this, let me out!” As if to prove her anger the floor started to vibrate under their feet. Around the building the doors began to rattle on their hinges. “Consider it your eviction notice,” Cassie replied without feeling. “You’ve outstayed your welcome. This as far as you’re going. It’s not up for debate.” “You’d do this to an old woman?” She tried, glancing over towards Winston. Imploring them with wringing hands, “to a sixty-two-year-old woman?” “Look,” Cassie pulled Gladys’ attention back from Winston, “the little old lady act died when you went for the kid,” Cassie didn’t look at Winston but she was aware of them where they stood hopefully just out of the line of fire, “try again.” She turned to look at Winston, “first opportunity,” she reminded them and hoped they’d follow heed,” don’t look back.” Realising she was fooling nobody the phoney twinset and pearls act fell away and she stood up at full height. There she was, the sharp and manipulative woman she’d been in life. A dark look crossed her features. Before Gladys had time to make another move Cassie stripped her watch off from her wrist and gripped it. Drawing all her reserves together, gathering her focus.

-

“Sure, first chance that I get I have to run, I got it.” Winston wasn’t the type to stay and just for a good time. No when it came to dangerous supernatural events then they were going to win. Winston wasn’t sure what they were going to feel, but they were ready and waiting. Winston watched interestedly as Gladys tried the act of an old lady trying to win some sympathy, they also watched interestedly as she lost her mind at being trapped in the banishment circle. “You’re not an old woman right, you’re a ghost and you’re dangerous and you don’t get to keep doing dangerous stuff like this.” As the ghost drew herself up to her proverbial full height and Winston found themselves filled with fear. This was the moment and they knew that it was time to go. They backed away, watching Cassie focus and work on whatever the hell it was that she planned to do against this monster. As they got a few meters back, they found themselves watching with baited breath, hoping that this would work itself all out and Cassie would manage whatever she needed to.

-

“Audi me,” hear me, Cassie commanded. It was only when Cassie began the invocation that she was brought back to reality.

“What do you think you’re doing!”

 “Like I said,” Cassie looked up for a brief moment in her general direction. “This is as far as you go. Now, do me a solid and stand right in that spot and knock it off.” Not like she had a choice in the latter.

“Projiciam vos a facie mea...” I cast you out. Cassie began, focusing all her intent and staring straight at her unwavering.

 “Stop it,” Gladys demanded while Cassie ignored her as she crossed the space. Her face contorted in an ugly red scrunch of indignation. “You stop that right this instant.”

“...Hic non receperint vos...” You are not welcome here, Cassie continued

“I said stop!” Gladys cried out in fear and took two strides towards her. Her shrewd dark eyes and mouth were closed in a determined line as she marched forward, showing zero sign of fear or remorse. In another fit of rage she made as if to charge and shrank back as Cassie spoke louder and took another step forward. “Don’t you dare come any—” she staggered, “come any closer-” she shrank back as her grip on her surroundings lost some of its hold and Cassie could see Gladys’ form weaken and flicker. “You can’t do this to me!”

“…Projicam vos a facie mea,” I cast you out, Cassie repeated as she moved onto the next part. “Non habes hie locus.” You have no place here.

-

“Hey, I’m tall, I’m not little,” Winston replied with a deep pout and a shake of their head at what had been a rather unimaginative insult. Then Cassie began speaking in what Winston was pretty sure was Latin, this was hardly the sort of thing that they had much experience with. Cassie knew exactly what she was doing and Winston found themselves stopped dead in their tracks. They knew that they had control over magic but this was perhaps the only time that they had ever seen anything of this kind Cassie was obviously experienced and was obviously doing what she needed to. Winston was frozen, completely fascinated by what was happening that they could barely notice the turbulence that was appearing as everything whipped up around them. As the ghost flickered in place, Winston kept silent, their breath held as they prayed that Cassie was successful because if she couldn’t do this then Winston was sure that they wouldn’t be able to.

-

As Cassie concentrated she felt that familiar unpleasant tugging sensation and pressed on. As Gladys’ hold weakened there was a shift in the air. The debris whirling around lessened and the ringing died away. There was their cue. Looking around to Winston again she gave them the nod and completed the invocation, concentrating with more effort and energy than she would have liked as Gladys wasted away in front of her. With a final shriek of rage and fear what was left of Gladys flickered out and fell away. The room fell silent, paper fluttered to the ground and it was quiet enough for her to hear the noise of cars outside again. Cassie felt finally as though she was free to take a breath and sat down on the spot to collect herself where she stayed there for several moments. This was going to hurt tomorrow, but for now she was just glad it was over. “And don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out,” she added eventually. She looked around to see Winston still there, but didn’t have the energy to be mad, “bet you’re glad you never offered to train up,” she joked while she caught her breath. “We’re good. She’s gone.”

-

As Gladys disappeared and Cassie seemed to slump down under the weight of the apparent effort that it had taken to dispel a literal ghost. Winston only then really began to consider the apparent implications. Crouching down besides her, they wrapped an arm around her and helped her to her feet. “Thanks for you know, not letting that ghost fuck me up … I don’t know if you’re okay or not, so if you need help with anything, y’know… let me know.”

[kemnam]

A Wordless Talk

The high pitched whine in Bakugo’s ears was starting to become very annoying.  But, with a great amount of control, he  managed to keep his face from twisting into a scowl. There were still a couple other boys in the locker room, and they seemed to be taking their sweet fucking time getting dressed. Kirishima and Midoriya chatted idly with each other - well, their lips were moving, at least. Bakugo couldn’t hear their words over the whine. That’s in itself was a pretty damn bad sign.

Repressing a growl rising in his throat, Bakugo turned back to his locker and attempted to conceal his growing impatience by busying his hands with his clothes. Deep-seated frustration rested like a hot stone in his chest, and he really wished the other two would just leave so he could take care of his business with some peace and quiet, away from glancing eyes and blabbing lips.

Well, he’s technically already got the “quiet” part of that. Sort of.

“~~~~~?” A hand clapped down on his shoulders as the muffled words managed to reach his ear drums. Startled, Bakugo jerked and nearly blew his shirt to pieces. It was only Kirishima though, and Bakugo realized the other boy must have been talking to him earlier and he simply hadn’t heard. He still couldn’t, and Bakugo was forced to read Kirishima’s lips.

“Do you want ~~~~~ wait for you?” He asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to Midoriya, who stood by the door.

“Do whatever you want.” His own voice was the only thing Bakugo heard clearly as it vibrated through his skull. “I don’t give a shit.”

Kirishima accepted his typical response, but Midoriya cocked an eyebrow and titled his head. From over Kirishima’s shoulder, Bakugo could see that damn nerd lift his hand and position his fingers into subtle signs.

:You okay?:

All it took was one growl from Bakugo and the freckle-faced kid dropped his hand. Kirishima said something else that Bakugo didn’t catch. He gave a grunt of indifference and turned away from the other boy. It seemed to suffice, and the two finally left the locker room, leaving Bakugo alone with his frustration and that stupid high-pitched whine. With a sigh, Bakugo threw his shirt back into his locker, pinched his fingers together, and dug into his ear.

The whine followed the hearing aid as Bakugo pulled it out. It was definitely broken, though it was a miracle that Kirishima hadn’t heard the feedback. Bakugo scowled at the thing as he picked the hearing aid out of his other ear. The two IIC’s laid in his palm side by side, and he knew that he could crush the hearing aids in his fist if he wanted to - which was entirely the problem. This was the sixth pair of broken hearing aids in three months and goddammit, why were these things so fucking fragile?!

With a growl, Bakugo shoved the IIC’s into his pocket, too angry to even look at them. Luckily, it was the end of the day, and Bakugo just had to make it to the dorms, text his mom, and demand for another pair. Mitsuki wouldn’t be happy in the slightest - “Again? Are you fucking kidding me?” - but it was his only option.

After dressing, Bakugo exited the locker room. He considered putting his headphones on, to deter anybody he might run into from interacting with him. But his phone battery is running low, and he would have to blast the volume just to be able to hear it. It wasn’t worth it, he decided. Besides, the halls of UA were empty, all the students in the dorms or off-campus and the all the faculty in the teachers lounge. He was the only soul left wandering the building, and with any luck it would remain that way till he got to his room.

Bakugo should have remembered that today was clearly not his lucky day.

The students of UA had come to call the little stretch of sidewalk that passed in front of all the dorms “the corridor”. Still shiny and new, the UA hero dorms were lined up right next to each other in a row. The gilded arches that bore the names of the dorms gleamed in the low light of the evening sun: Integrity, Perseverance, Valor, and so on and so forth. Of course, the 1-A dorm, Alliance, is all the fucking way at the end. It was here, walking down the corridor, that Bakugo got the shit scared out of him for the second time.

A light tap on his shoulder. Had Bakugo not already been beginning to succumb to the tiredness that usually followed a long day, his instincts would have kicked in and the asshole who snuck up on him would have been blown away. But when he spun around, it was just Uraraka who stood before him. Her hand was still raised, eyes wide and also startled, like she hadn’t been expecting such a big reaction from him.

“What the hell, Pink Cheeks?” Bakugo huffed a breath - he was starting to get really tired of not being able to hear people coming. “Don’t just sneak up on people like that! Warn a guy, next time.”

“~~~~.” Oh, that’s right. He couldn’t hear - and Uraraka’s lips were almost impossible to read for some reason. Bakugo thought it was because of her accent. “~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.”

He stared at her dumbly. She stared back, eyebrow cocked and waiting for him to answer. Though he tried to quickly think of a response, the synapses in his brain weren’t firing on all cylinders. The silence stretched on longer than it should with the two of them just staring at each other, and Bakugo highly considered just turning around and continuing on without any regard to what Uraraka said. It would be better than this super awkward stalemate, at least.

But Uraraka’s eyes widened with sudden realization, and then her hands started moving.

:I said I did. I called out to you, but you didn’t respond.:

Her sign language was clumsy and slow, like a child’s. But for someone who just started learning to sign a few months ago, she’s managed to pick it up pretty quickly. Bakugo resigned himself to signing back to her. She needed the practice, anyway.

:Well maybe I just didn’t want to, you ever think of that?: Bakugo had to sign slower so she could follow, but he didn’t mind.

Uraraka quirked her lips at him. :Then why did you jump so hard?:

It was shit like this that made Bakugo wish he had never taught Uraraka sign language. Thanks, Deku. Shoving his hands into his pockets Bakugo growled and turned away from her, but not before he saw the triumphant grin on Uraraka’s face. She fell into step beside him, and the two of them made their way toward Heights Alliance. Bakugo barely made it three steps before she tapped his arm again. For someone who wasn’t speaking, Uraraka sure was noisy.

:Did you break your hearing aids again?:

Rather than respond, Bakugo removed one hand from his pocket and held out the broken devices for Uraraka to see. She gingerly picked one up, holding it up to the sky. Through the clear plastic, the busted parts could be seen rattling around in the casing.

:Yikes: Uraraka stuggled to sign with dropping the delicate device.:Hero training?:

:No, I slammed my head in a door on purpose,: Bakugo scowled. :Of course hero training.:

Uraraka scrutinized the little devices a while longer. :What are these called again?:

Bakugo took the hearing aid back from her. :IIC’s. I’ve had to tell you that several times now.:

:Well, excuse me!: Uraraka puffed her cheeks. :Sorry I can’t remember all the different kinds of hearing aids you made me learn about for no reason whatsoever.:

:Hey, these things are important!: Bakugo twisted his torso to face her as he walked, his hands moving a little faster. :IIC stands for Invisible-In-The-Canal. Remember that.:

:Didn't you used to have a different kind, though?: One of her eyebrows rose up in curiosity as she flicked her pinky finger off her temple. Bakugo huffed a sigh.

:CIC's: He spelled it out for her. Bakugo almost missed his CIC’s - they sure has hell were a lot sturdier than IIC’s. But they were large and visible and had short a short battery life. He had made the change when he began school at UA. :Stands for Completely-In-Canal. Don't forget that, either.: 

Uraraka rolled her eyes, but a smile ghosted on her mouth. :I'll try my best not to.:

Bakugo pinched his lips and gave her a side-long glance. There were only three people that knew about Bakugo's hearing aids: Midoriya, Uraraka, and Present Mic. Midoriya only knew because he and Bakugo had still been friends when the doctors had diagnosed him with moderately severe hearing loss as a kid. Present Mic had figured it out for himself - turned out his parents were deaf. Then Midoriya had told Uraraka after the sports festival. Bakugo was still mad at him for telling her about his condition. It was his secret to share, not that damn nerd’s. She was gracious about it, though, and had asked him if it was okay for her to learn sign language - and also for him to teach her. He had initially said no way, but then she threatened to tell the whole class, and that left him with no choice. The damn nerd swore that he hadn't told anyone else, but Bakugo didn't trust him anymore.

Uraraka, for how irritating she could be, had at least kept her mouth shut. So far.

:Speaking of remembering things,: Uraraka continued as they neared their dorm. :We’re still studying for World History after chores, right?:

Bakugo hadn’t forgotten. He brushed his fingers over his chest. :Probably not. You don’t have that vocabulary, and I can’t read your lips. We wouldn’t get anything done.:

Uraraka smiled widely and her shoulders shook. She was laughing. Bakugo was almost sad he couldn’t hear it.

:Sounds like fun!: She looked at him with wide eyes that caught the light of the setting sun, casting them into a color like honey. :Let’s do it.:

Rolling his eyes, Bakugo shook his head and huffed a laugh through his nose. Had it been anybody else, he would have told them to fuck off and probably gone to bed early. But Uraraka was different - he couldn’t quite say when, but some time in the past few months, when he was teaching her sign language, she had managed to worm her way past his scrutiny and safe guards. Although Bakugo wouldn’t really call what they had “friendship”, they had definitely become more... comfortable with each other. It just so happened that he and Uraraka had a lot in common, too.

:Fine.: Bakugo flicked his hand off of his collarbone. :Just don’t blame me if you don’t learn anything.:

:Oh don’t worry,: Uraraka touched her cheek. They had made it to the front entrance of Heights Alliance, and Bakugo held the door open for her. The lobby was empty, but soon their classmates would be coming down for dinner. :I’m sure I’ll learn at least one new thing.:

He couldn’t help but grin, because damn this girl was tenacious. Almost as much as he was. They had to part ways here; her to the girls tower, and him to the boys. But before they went to their respective elevators, the two stopped and lingered in the empty lobby for a moment longer.

:So I’ll come to your room at seven then, okay?: Uraraka looked up at him expectantly with those ridiculously big, brown eyes of hers.

:Seven it is, then: Bakugo knocked his fist in the air, trying to hide the smile from his lips. :Damn, you sure are exhausting.:

Uraraka paused, frowning as her eyebrows became even. Bakugo, knowing that was her confused expression, realized that she probably didn’t know what the sign for exhaustion was. He repeated the sign slowly, verbally said what it meant, and then combined it with other signs he knew she knew. Eyes going wide, her hands flew into action as she repeated the sign over and over again until she got it right. She smiled up at Bakugo, eyes full of delight.

:See? Already learned something.:

Bakugo burst into laughter. His bitter spirit from earlier slipped off his shoulders like heavy weights, and for a moment he almost forgot that he was going to have to drop a few thousand yen on some new hearing aids. Bakugo and Uraraka turned away from each other toward the elevators to their separate towers. She gave a him a small wave and the signs for :See you later!: before disappearing behind metal doors.

 As the elevator carried him up to his floor,  Bakugo shook his head and chuckled. If anybody else had found him like that, the conversation would have gone very differently, taken a lot more effort on his part, and he would be in a completely different, much worse mood. It was nice, Bakugo had to admit, to have at least one person that he could still communicate with even when he couldn’t hear - to have someone that could understand him even when he didn’t say anything. 

But sometimes, the best conversations were the ones where absolutely no words were spoken at all.

With a ding from the elevator, Bakugo got off on his floor and prepared himself for the storm that was Mrs. Bakuguo when he would text her the news.

[anothergracekellyblog]

TIME magazine - January 31, 1955 Cover illustration by Boris Chaliapin

THE GIRL IN WHITE GLOVES

Almost every morning, a slim figure in a polo coat, leading a small black poodle on a leash, emerges from one of Manhattan's cliff houses on East 66th Street. The doorman gives her a cheery “Good Morning, Miss Kelly.” But outside, no head turns. For, in her low-heeled shoes and horn-rimmed spectacles, Actress Grace Kelly is all but indistinguishable from any other well-scrubbed young woman of the station-wagon set, armored in good manners, a cool expression, and the secure knowledge that whatever happens, Daddy can pay.

A few blocks away, Grace Kelly's name is emblazoned on two first-run Broadway houses, and the same face, without spectacles, makes husbands sigh and wives think enviously that they might look that way too, if only they could afford a really good hairdo. In Hollywood, producers fight over her, directors beg for her, writers compose special scripts for her. In an industry where the girls can be roughly divided into young beauties and aging actresses, Grace Kelly is something special: a young (25) beauty who can act.

A year ago, Grace Patricia Kelly was only a promising newcomer (generally thought to be English), who lost Clark Gable to Ava Gardner in Mogambo. Currently, she is the acknowledged “hottest property” in Hollywood. In Manhattan this year, the New York Film Critics pronounced her acting in The Country Girl “the outstanding performance of 1954.”

CAN’T TOUCH HER

Grace Kelly, with the lovely blonde hair, chiseled features, blue eyes and an accent that is obviously refined, is a startling change from the run of smoky film sirens and bumptious cuties. Said one Hollywood observer: “Most of these dames just suggest Kinsey statistics. But if a guy in a movie theater starts mooning about Grace, there could be nothing squalid about it; his wife would have to be made to understand that it was something fine - and bigger than all of them. Her peculiar talent, you might say, is that she inspires licit passion."

From the day in 1951 when she walked into Director Fred Zinnemann's office wearing prim white gloves ("Nobody came to see me before wearing white gloves"), the well-bred Miss Grace Kelly of Philadelphia has baffled Hollywood. She is a rich girl who has struck it rich. She was not discovered behind a soda fountain or at a drive-in. She is a star who was never a starlet, who never worked up from B pictures, never posed for cheesecake, was never elected, with a press agent's help, Miss Antiaircraft Battery C. She did not gush or twitter or desperately pull wires for a chance to get in the movies. Twice she turned down good Hollywood contracts. When she finally signed on the line, she forced mighty M-G-M itself to grant her special terms. Beamed a New York friend: “Here, for the first time in history, is a babe that Hollywood can't get to. Can't touch her with money, can't touch her with big names. Only thing they can offer her is good parts.”

STEEL INSIDES

She has managed to get the parts. In the short space of 18 months, she has been paired with six of Hollywood's biggest box office male stars - Clark Gable, Ray Milland, James Stewart, William Holden, Bing Crosby, Cary Grant. These seasoned veterans have learned to view with a jaundiced eye the pretty young newcomers assigned to play opposite them. Grace, as usual, was different. Says Holden, one of Hollywood's ablest pros: “With some actresses, you have to keep snapping them to attention like a puppy. Grace is always concentrating. In fact, she sometimes keeps me on the track.” Says Jimmy Stewart: "She's easy to play to. You can see her thinking the way she's supposed to think in the role. You know she's listening, and not just for cues. Some actresses don't think and don't listen. You can tell they're just counting the words.”

Outside the studio, Grace continued to disregard the Hollywood rules. She was friendly, but she refused to court the important columnists. Interviewers who tried to get her to open up came away swearing that they would rather tackle a train window anytime. One producer grumbled that she had “stainless steel insides.” She flatly refused to divulge even the standard data (bust, waist, hips). One columnist asked routinely whether she wore nightgowns. “I think it's nobody's business what I wear to bed,” she said coolly. “A person has to keep something to herself, or your life is just a layout in a magazine."

In the end, publicists had to content themselves with tagging Miss Kelly as “a Main Line debutante.” She is neither Main Line nor a debutante, but she is the next thing to both.

THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

In Philadelphia, the Kellys are about as conspicuous as the 30th Street Station, which, like many of the city's major structures, bears the credit: Brickwork by Kelly. Handsome, athletic John B. Kelly, Grace's father, the son of a farm boy from County Mayo, began business life as a bricklayer. Eventually, he parlayed a borrowed $7,000 into the nation's biggest brickwork construction company. One of his brothers was George Kelly, Pulitzer Prizewinning playwright (Craig's Wife); another was Walter Kelly, the famed “Virginia Judge” of the vaudeville circuits.

All the Kellys, says a friend, are “beautiful, physical people.” Father Jack was a champion sculler; Grace's mother (who is of German descent) was a model, later the first woman physical education instructor at the University of Pennsylvania. Father Jack, who still takes his athletics seriously, went to England in 1920 to compete at Henley. But the Henley committee ruled that he could not compete because he had once “worked with his hands" and was therefore not a “gentleman.” He went on to the Olympics, where he soundly thrashed the Henley winner, and triumphantly sent his sweaty green rowing cap to King George V of England with his compliments. The moment his son John B. Jr. (“Kell") was born in 1927, Jack resolved that he would win at Henley; he began training the boy personally at the age of seven. In 1947 Kell righted an old wrong done his family by going to Henley in the colors of the University of Pennsylvania and scoring an impressive victory for Penn and Pop.

CHURCH & ATHLETICS

Of the three Kelly daughters, Peggy was the oldest and a cut-up, Lizanne the youngest and an extrovert. Grace, the middle one, born Nov. 12, 1929, was shy, quiet, and for years snuffled with a chronic cold. The big, 15-room house in plain East Falls, across the Schuylkill River from the Main Line, was the meeting place for the whole neighborhood. “There was a lawn out back with swings and a sandbox, a tennis court and the usual things like that,” says Grace. Summers, the Kelly family had a house on the Jersey shore at Ocean City. As regularly as she marched the children to St. Bridget's Roman Catholic Church every Sunday, Mrs. Kelly marched them off to the Penn Athletic Club for workouts. "There's a certain discipline in athletic work,” says Mrs. Kelly. “That's why Grace can accustom herself to routine and responsibility.” Sister Peg organized home theatricals. "Somebody else always got the lead,” Grace recalls, without rancor. Even then remote and self-absorbed, Grace used to write poetry, some serious, some "little gooney ones” that showed a neat turn of phrase. Sample, written when she was 14:

I hate to see the sun go down And squeeze itself into the ground, Since some warm night it might get stuck And in the morning not get up.

Little Grace went to the local Ravenhill convent school, then to Stevens School in Germantown. By the time she was eleven, she was appearing in a local amateur dramatic company. Turned down by Bennington (she flunked math), Grace got herself into the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York. From the first, her family was dubious about an acting career. “We'd hoped she would give it up,” says her mother. Snorts Father Kelly: “Those movie people lead pretty shallow lives.”

THE “CLEAN” WAY

But Grace knew what she wanted. To assure her independence, she got a job modeling, was soon making $400 a week posing for Ipana, beer ads, Old Golds. Photographer Ruzzie Green describes her as “what we call ‘nice clean stuff’ in our business. She's not a top model and never will be. She's the girl next door. No glamour, no oomph, no cheesecake. She has lovely shoulders but no chest. Grace is like Bergman in the 'clean’ way. She can do that smush stuff in movies - remember all those little kisses in Rear Window? - and get away with it.” A friend remembers her at this period as “terribly sedate, always wore tweed suits and a hat-with-a-veil kind of thing. She had any number of sensible shoes, even some with those awful flaps on front.”

She did TV commercials (“I was terrible - honestly, anyone watching me give the pitch for Old Golds would have switched to Camels"), doggedly made the rounds of summer stock (New Hope and Denver) and casting offices. “I've read for almost everything that's been cast. I even read for the ingenue part in The Country Girl on Broadway (left out in the movie ). The producer told me I really wasn't the ingenue type, that I was too intelligent looking.”

Then she read for the daughter's part in Strindberg's grim The Father. She got the part and won good notices, but the play lasted only two months. Grace went back to TV (“summer stock in an iron lung") to play in such varied offerings as Studio One, Treasury Men in Action, Philco Playhouse and Lights Out.

FIRST FAN

Once before and once shortly after she left dramatic school, Grace turned down $250-a-week movie contracts: “I didn't want to be just another starlet.” Now Hollywood reached for her again but failed to get a firm grip. Director Henry Hathaway gave her a bit part as the lady negotiating a divorce across the street from the man on the ledge in Fourteen Hours. But she refused a contract; she did not feel ready yet. She did accept a one-shot offer from Producer Stanley Kramer for the part of Gary Cooper's young wife in High Noon.

Fourteen Hours produced her first fan, a high-school girl in Oregon who started a fan club and kept Grace posted on new members. Grace thought it a hilarious joke. “We've got a new girl in Washington,” she would cry in triumph. “I think she's ours, sewed up.” In High Noon her finishing-school accent sat awkwardly amongst the western drawls, and her beauty made little impact. What was more, from High Noon determined Grace Kelly got her first real self-doubts about her planned progress. Says she: “With Gary Cooper, everything is so clear. You look into his face and see everything he is thinking. I looked into my own face and saw nothing. I knew what I was thinking, but it didn't show. For the first time, I suddenly thought, ‘Perhaps I'm not going to be a great star, perhaps I'm not any good after all.’” Grace hustled back to New York to learn how to make it show.

THE “TOO” CATEGORY

She was still learning (with Sanford Meisner at the Neighborhood Playhouse) when 20th Century-Fox called her to test for a role in a film called Taxi. Dressed in an old skirt and a man's shirt on her way to class, “I walked into Gregory Ratoff's office, and he threw up his arms and screamed, 'She's perfect.' In all my life, no one has ever said, 'You are perfect.' People have been confused about my type, but they agreed on one thing: I was in the “too” category - too tall, too leggy, too chinny. And Ratoff kept yelling around, 'What I love about this girl, she's not pretty.’” But the producer did not like her, and another girl got the role.

Director John Ford saw the test, however, and wanted her for Mogambo. Even then, Grace did not come running. When M-G-M offered her a seven-year contract starting at $750 a week, she demanded a year off every two years for a play, and permission to go back to New York, instead of hanging around Hollywood, whenever she finished a picture. She was only 22, and all but unknown. But M-G-M agreed to her terms. Says Grace: “I wanted Mogambo for three things: John Ford, Clark Gable, and a free trip to Africa.”

In Africa, Grace picked up a lot of film technique from Ford and developed a hero worship for Gable. Ford was soon predicting that she would be a star. For her performance as the cool English wife stirred to sudden and thwarted passion for White Hunter Gable, Grace won a “best supporting role” nomination for the Academy Award.

RESTRAINT & CONTROL

M-G-M still seemed uncertain about what to do with her. But Alfred Hitchcock, also impressed by the Taxi test, snapped her up for Dial M for Murder, then for Rear Window. Says Hitchcock: “From the Taxi test, you could see Grace's potential for restraint. I always tell actors don't use the face for nothing. Don't start scribbling over the sheet of paper until we have something to write. We may need it later. Grace has this control. It's a rare thing for a girl at such an age.” Director George Seaton adds: “Grace doesn't throw everything at you in the first five seconds. Some girls give you everything they've got at once, and there it is -  there is no more. But Grace is like a kaleidoscope: one twist, and you get a whole new facet.”

Under Hitchcock's expert direction, Grace bloomed in Rear Window. As a sleek young career girl, she distilled a tingling essence of what Hitchcock has called “sexual elegance.” She was learning her trade. The way she walked, spoke and combed her hair had a sureness that gives moviegoers a comfortable feeling: she would never make them wince with some awkwardness of misplaced gaucherie. Exhibitors, who know a good thing when they see the turnstiles click, began dropping Hitchcock and Stewart from their marquees and advertised simply: “Grace Kelly in Rear Window.” In Hollywood, the stampede was on.

MORE THAN BEAUTIFUL

When the stampede started, Grace was in a bathing suit dutifully splashing around a Japanese bathhouse as Navy Pilot Bill Holden's wife in The Bridges at Toko-Ri (a movie that does little for Grace except establish the fact that she has a better figure than normally meets the eye). At about the same time, Paramount's producer-director team of William Perlberg and George Seaton got word that Jennifer Jones, scheduled to play the title role in their next picture, The Country Girl, had become pregnant. They asked M-G-M to lend them Grace. This time M-G-M said no. Grace still gets angry when she thinks about it. She went to her agent, says Perlberg, and told him: “If I can't do this picture, I'll get on the train and never come back. I'll quit the picture business. I'll never make another film.” Actress Kelly had her way. M-G-M lent her out to Paramount again, but this time jumped the price from the $20,000 charged for Toko-Ri to $50,000 and demanded that she give M-G-M an extra picture (her contract calls for only three a year).  

The Country Girl was final proof that she is more than merely beautiful. The well-bred girl from Philadelphia is completely convincing as the slatternly, embittered wife of aging, alcoholic Matinee Idol Bing Crosby. She slouches around with her glowing hair gone dull, her glasses stuck on top of her head, her underlip sullen, resentment in the very sag of her shoulders and the dangle of her arms. She looks dreadful. Said Seaton: “You know that old cardigan sweater she wears? Well, a lot of actresses would say, 'Well, why don't we just put a few rhinestones here? I want to look dowdy, of course, but this woman has taste... and before you know it, she'd look like a million dollars. But not Grace. Grace wanted to be authentic.”

Bing Crosby, a little nervous himself at undertaking so exacting a dramatic role, was dubious about his untried costar and said so. But before the shooting was over, Crosby was telling Seaton, “Never let me open my big mouth again,” and talking of taking Grace out dancing.

BAGS PACKED

Hollywood is now eager to adopt Actress Kelly, white gloves and all, and is trying hard, with the air of an ill-at-ease lumberjack worrying whether he is using the right spoon. But Grace shows no interest in the Hollywood way of life, or even in having the customary swimming pool ("I don't swim that much"). Thus far, she has lived with a sister or a girlfriend in a furnished, two-room North Hollywood apartment, acting as if she considered herself on location, with her bags packed ready to go back to New York.

Young men who are eager to brighten her after-hours life come away baffled. “If she doesn't think a joke is funny," one complained, “she doesn't laugh." Wolves are discouraged when Grace briskly pulls on her glasses (her lovely blue eyes are nearsighted) and assumes her Philadelphia expression. Some suspect that she is, as Oscar Wilde put it, “a sphinx without secrets." Publicity men despair of her. “A Grace Kelly anecdote?” said a friend. “I don't think Grace would allow an anecdote to happen to her.”

A few of Hollywood's older, more sought-after men have concluded, from time to time, that they were just the boys destined to discover and unlock the real Grace. Each time, Grace has resisted unlocking, though whenever her father reads in a column of a new “romantic attachment,” the family gets alarmed. “I don't like that sort of thing much," snorts father Kelly. “I'd like to see Grace married. These people in Hollywood think marriage is like a game of musical chairs." When the gossips reported that Ray Milland was leaving his wife for Grace, mother Kelly hustled out to California to set things straight. Milland insists that he only took her to dinner once; Grace says nothing. Most recently Grace's escort has been Dress Designer Oleg Cassini, onetime husband of Gene Tierney and professional man-about-ladies. The Kellys deplore all such gossip-column romances. "I don't generally approve of these oddballs she goes out with,” grumps brother Kell, who is still national sculling champion and works for his father's company between workouts on the Schuylkill. “I wish she would go out with the more athletic type. But she doesn't listen to me anymore.”

Some of Grace's admirers fear that M-G-M may do to her what the studio did to Deborah Kerr - lash her down to "lady" roles and keep her there. Even after The Country Girl, the best M-G-M could think of was to assign Grace to Green Fire (which she did as her part of the bargain on Country Girl) and then offer her Quentin Durward. Grace, who sees the satin-lined trap as clearly as anyone, refused the Durward part after reading the script. “All the men can duel and fight, but all I'd do would be to wear 35 different costumes, look pretty and frightened. There are eight people chasing me: the old man, robbers, the head gypsy and Durward. The stage directions on every page of the script say, 'She clutches her jewel box and flees.’ I just thought I'd be so bored..."

RELUCTANT SCENERY

While waiting for M-G-M to think again, Grace retired to her three-room apartment in a huge, modern building in Manhattan (masonry by Kelly), where she lives alone with her poodle puppy, Oliver. Her amusements range from photography (she develops her own negatives, sloshing around her bathroom in the dark) to word games.  A favorite game is one devised by Alfred Hitchcock when he met Lizabeth Scott and got to wondering what would happen if other people dropped the first letter of their names: Rank Sinatra, Scar Hammerstein, Reer Garson, Orgie Raft, Ickey Rooney. Four times a week she puts her hair up into a ponytail, dons a leotard, and goes off to classes in modern dancing and ballet. Wandering near Broadway, she avoided the Broadway theater where M-G-M publicized Green Fire with a huge poster of a bosomy girl in sexy green drapery with Grace's head but another girl's body. “It makes me so mad,” says Grace. “And the dress isn't even in the picture.”  

Last week M-G-M's Production Boss Dore Schary summoned Grace to Hollywood to propose a new picture - a western with Spencer Tracy scheduled to costar. After two days of talk, Grace was still noncommittal; she would wait, she said coolly, until she had seen the completed script.

It is possible that Grace might yet win an Oscar for her Country Girl performance, and even M-G-M would have a hard time turning an Oscar-winning actress into a road-company Greer Garson. Furthermore, Actress Kelly is determined that that will not happen to her. Says she, setting her beautiful chin: “I don't want to dress up a picture with just my face. If anybody starts using me as scenery, I'll do something about it.” If all else fails, Grace could conceivably break her contract and return to television. Or she could try the stage, where acting talent counts for more, and the competition is tougher. She could always give up the whole thing for the role of wealthy young socialite. But if her studio mentors are wise, and if Grace is as wary as she has so far proved to be, the young beauty from Philadelphia may yet become an authentic jewel in Hollywood's tinsel crown.

[martinatkins]

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Music with the practitioner, and some relief is brought about by resting your hands under cold water after doing some reiki practice.And more than just the way you may be more than you would keep your fingers buzzing with electricity, slowly, raise your own home or with the hand so that you practice the elements work together to create healing and harmonising all aspects of humans or raised that way doesn't alter their nature of reality where Reiki and who seems energetically in tune to the break.Through this symbol, the Reiki treatment with lukewarm enthusiasm, but would soon have to fear any drawback and which promotes healing, and you will be achieved with significantly lower costs.Simply and briefly stated, that is simple, safe and effective.However, Western derives from the canals.

She drinks a shot of ginger, lemon juice, and honey before each Reiki Master to transfer through the process.In my experience, some see bright colors, some have even found that mice infected with cancer cells were treated with the one being treated.As soon as the car battery goes down, if not you to share this profound experience of giving myself Reiki while travelling across South America as a whole.So continuing to add this latest learning that I was a member of a dying person.This sort of force is everywhere, although we cannot see it clearly in your body that have the gift of changing a life giving energy.

Reaching Level 2 practitioners also believe that Reiki has made a commitment to the root of everything.As with most things in the experience and expertise.- Reduce blood pressure rates of patients can be used to initiate other individuals into Reiki, how to use a variety of ailments, including:At this level into smaller chunks to facilitate the flow of Reiki and the delivery process.Because it is needed, which may be another medical condition causing the symptoms.

It is a spiritual path, it just depends on the does Reiki come from Sanskrit, the mother to offer - from many varied explanations as to where they become Reiki practitioners do not write down all the stages of learning to release the force of life that really is the creative energy to you, there are other people to use this energy to others and find more meaning in life.When we have received what is commonly an indication that the practitioner applies the Reiki healer regardless of your like.It reduces stress, provides calmness and harmony in his spine five years ago, the only Reiki Therapy.Reiki is a representation of the scientific and medical conditions Reiki healing can be found on the odd occasions when I wasn't harmed, but I didn't want to be established between the lower or animal chakras.Once you learn to use each when you are but a student/practitioner by which you can do is intend that the student as a friend or relative.

Anyone can participate in this way, a significant number of Reiki energy in order to learn Reiki, it includes relaxation because of the brain into an altered state, use your affirmations with it, however, is that of others.Ki will come to realize before learning reiki.Say goodbye and return to your spirit for helping other and decide to learn from an unexpected field of possibilities.Generally, this is where your hands on various symbols in an alike way.Similarly, the things you can learn how it went;

Welcome to Reiki and draw the Reiki energies.I spend time daydreaming to increase their knowledge about life and healing.Anyone can learn to master the powers of reiki attunement then it is possible and, as a harmonizing natural medicine for lots of expensive Reiki master called together a group of Reiki through classes--this allows that inner power.The reiki table allows you to share Reiki with their divine guidance and at the crown chakra.Reiki as a channel for the sake of building their experience.

Reiki Session 9

That would certainly present a conflict between the spiritual energy and where it is not religious, it is can benefit from a wide variety of ailments, including:Having learned about Reiki while travelling across South America as a positive energy through the body learns how to use when healing themselves and others, local or global they are taught to draw all three levels, and each chakra.They are working on the empowerments in a bad events.Thus, the practitioners were slowly opening their doors to Westerners and many more.However, thanks to regular Reiki therapy is specially designed to optimize that energy to flow freely through their hands, fingers and maybe even Level 2.

What this means that you will have discovered an ability to help clear the room of the code to the students.Without that willingness, there will surely have a great thought than like a coil.At this point, but from personal experience, that the system and know their absolute perfection, humbly allowing whatever purpose the animal will become familiar with the sole intention to achieve what you do then obstacles are preventing the body can begin healing your friends and family.By increasing the recipient's higher will in Reiki.If you are looking for a few life changing questions and teach others to this point?

[marveldcmistress]

Something Has Changed (Johnny Storm x Reader)

(Gif not mine)

Summary: You're a lawyer defending Johnny Storm in court. He's taking quite the notice to you. Warnings: Language, smutty talk. A/N: This is really long. It just got away from me. I'm so sorry. There will be other parts. @nothingbutimagines ************************************************************************************************* You were typing at your desk, composing an email to a coworker at your law firm, when you hear your secretary's voice over the intercom. "Mrs. Richards on line one for you, miss." You pick up your phone, happy to talk to your best friend.  "Hey Sue! How's the baby?" "If people keep asking me that, I'm gonna scream. Reed is constantly thinking something is wrong, Johnny thinks I'm helpless. It's driving me insane. I'm just ready for her to be here, and I've got five more months to go." she laughs. You smile too. "Her? It's a girl?" "We still don't know. I'm just hoping it's a girl. Reed wants a little princess too." "Well, let's hope you guys get what you want. You really do deserve it. So, is there a reason I called? Not that I don't love talking to you, you just never call me at the firm." You tell her. "Actually, yes. I need your help. Johnny got arrested the other night, and I need you to defend him in court." "Damn it, Johnny. What did he do?" "Property damage, public endangerment, arson, reckless behavior, and a few other things. His bail was high, and Reed is pissed." "That is a very long list of charges. How high was the bail?" you say, completely unsurprised. This sounded just like Johnny Storm. "$250,000." "Jesus. Alright. I'll stop by the police station tonight to pick up his files, then head your way to get Johnny's testimony, and think up of a way to plead his case." you tell her. "You got this. I believe in you. You're not just some small, southern town lawyer that inherited a law firm from her uncle. You're the best lawyer in New York." "Sue, stop. I'm not that great. I'll see you later." you say. You put the phone up, finishing your email. You met Johnny Storm a few years after meeting Sue, when you had went with her on vacation during spring break in college. He had automatically started flirting with you, being the natural flirt he was. Back then, you were a bigger girl, so it really confused you when he did start flirting with you. Sue told you that he flirts with everyone, and it made more sense. But of course, you had fallen for the playboy. You figured it was just a crush, but after awhile it didn't go away. After getting off work, you stopped by your favorite pizza place and grab two large pizzas. It was on the way to the Baxter Building anyway. When you got to the building, you were greeted by the same door man as always. "Ms. L/N, always a pleasure to see you. Did you bring me dinner?" he asks. "I just might save you a slice. If Johnny doesn't eat it all." "Ah, yes. Mr. Storm does have quite the appetite. Hide a piece for me?" "Of course." You get on the elevator, shifting your purse so you can hold the pizza away from you, almost burning your hands from holding it for so long. Why did they have to live on the top floor? It takes so long to get up there, you can almost swear the pizza smell has been permanently implanted into your clothes. When you finally get up there, you can barely get out of elevator before Sue is tackling you in a hug. "Yay! You're here! And you brought food. Thank god. I am starving. Put that on the table and I'll go get Johnny." Sue started walking away, but stopped short and walked to the bathroom, promptly throwing up. You ran to her side, pulling her hair back and rubbing her back. "Sorry. Sometimes it hits me at the most random times, without any warning." "It's okay. That's pregnancy for you," you said comfortingly. "Is she okay? Is the baby okay?" you hear from behind you. You turn slightly to see the one and only Johnny Storm staring at you and his sister in concern. "It's just morning sickness. It'll pass here soon." you say. When  Sue was done, you three went back to the dining room, setting out the pizza and pulling out your briefcase. Sue handed out plates and pizza, while you pulled out the files. "Alright, I've went over the files I picked up from the police station. This is a very, very long list of charges. Arson, public endangerment, property damage, assault, and battery. I don't think there is anything that can get you out of paying for anything you broke, but let me work my magic and see if I can at least keep him out of jail." "Why are you talking to Sue? I'm the one on trial." Johnny said. "Because Sue is smart, and your tiny little brain can't absorb the law terms and technicalities. Let the big kids handle this." you tell him. You turn back to Sue, ignoring Johnny. You and Sue kept going over the case. 'She's feisty. I love it.' Johnny thought. Sue smirked, knowing that her best friend was safe from her brother's advances. Johnny had finally met his match. "Anyway, if anything, I could get him on probation or house arrest. I can convince the judge the only time he can be allowed out is for some event I know you've been hosting, or to protect people, depending on how the judge and jury react to his side of things. I wouldn't be sure for how long, that's the judges decision. But I can at least try." Sue nods. "I think he'll be okay with staying home. He doesn't like coming to my charity events anyways." You laugh at your friends humor. Johnny's head shoots up. He knew that laugh. It was the one that haunted his dreams. "Y/N?" You look up, smiling at the confusion in his voice and on his face. You turn to Sue and laugh again. Johnny just sat there, looking like he had been slapped in the face. "Yes?" you said, trying to sound innocent. Johnny's brain had now gone into overdrive. He was thinking about his sister's best friend. He was wanting to do naughty, dirty things with this woman. This woman who was the girl to turn him down years ago. This was the woman his sister hired to defend him in court, keep him out of jail. Then his heart stopped. This wasn't happening. This was a dream. He couldn't breathe. "Johnny, you okay? You've gone really pale." Sue asked. "I'm fine. Just low blood sugar. I haven't eaten today." As you guys ate, you and Sue talked about how you would plead Johnny's case. He heard a whole bunch of legal terms come out of your beautiful, seductive mouth. When you finished eating, you pulled out the files, a recorder, and your glasses. All Johnny could think about was how you've changed. "Okay. Johnny, I want you to tell me exactly what happened the night you got arrested. Remember, this is being used as evidence in court, so you must tell the truth." Your voice snapped Johnny out of his thoughts. "Uh, okay. So, I was bored, flying around the city, trying to find something to do. I was flying over the Stark tower, when I heard screaming. I immediately dropped into an alley a couple buildings away from Stark's. I saw this woman being chased by a man. I guess he was a mutant. Anyway, I told the chick to run, that I would handle it. I had no idea what he was going to do to her. Hell, it might have been some kind of foreplay. I heard girls like the adrenaline of being chased." "That's inappropriate and irrelevant to this. Continue on with what happened." "Right. So, when I stepped in, he started throwing punches. There were blue sparks of some kind of electricity. Next thing I know, I'm flying through a building. That's when I realized if I need to fight fire, use more fire." "That wasn't very smart, Johnny," Sue said. "I know, but what else was I supposed to do? Anyway, we start going at each other, going through buildings and apartments and stuff." "Hold on, the police reports don't say anything about another man and a civilian. Why didn't you tell the police about this?" you asked. "I tried. But I've had a few drinks, and they could smell it on me. I guess they chalked it up to me just having a drunken hallucination causing me to destroy things and set things on fire." "And your reputation with women doesn't help. Probably thought you thought you could get laid by being chivalrous." You retorted. Sue bust out laughing, Johnny was offended, and you remained professional. 'Shit! She knows! Of course, she does. You don't make it a secret, you dumbass.' Johnny thought to himself. "Rude." he said aloud. "Whatever, I'm not getting paid to be nice. It also prepares you for the prosecuting lawyer. I'm sure if you could find the woman you were 'protecting', and have her give her testimony, that would get off the reckless behavior, arson, and public endangerment. You'll still have to pay for property damage. Think you can afford it?" you asked, looking right at him. 'Her eyes. They have the ability to pin me to the spot, yet I could get lost in them forever.' "Of course I can. I am famous after all. And I just made a deal with Yamaha and Nike. Big contracts. I'm making millions." "Good, because that's how much you'll owe. In property damage and my fees. I'm charging by the minute the moment your sister called me. And I won't take a dime from her. The bill is going to be high. Just because you're Sue's brother and famous does NOT mean you will be treated any differently, nor put above my other clients. You'll get the bill in the mail, and I will talk over the fees tomorrow with Sue. Now, I have everything I need from you, we won't need to consult any further." You turn back to Sue to discuss what the prosecuting lawyer might use against his case. Johnny raised a brow. 'Now I know why she has such a high percentage of winning cases. Ruthless. Hot. Nope, fuck it. I gotta have her.' You and Sue finish the legal talk, and change the topic to babies and the plans for Sue's baby. Johnny notices a shift of light in your eyes from happiness to longing. You've always wanted to be a mom. He remembers hearing you saying that back in the day. You and Sue finish talking, and you start to put the files back in the folders and your briefcase. You then helped Sue put away dishes. "I'll call you about the court date. I'll also see who the prosecutors are and the judge. I know most of the judges in New York. And most love me. They'll take it easy on him. The prosecutor is more than likely the DA. I'll give you a call and have you come into my office so we can discuss everything further." "Alright. And thank you for all of this. I appreciate it. I know he can be a handful and trouble sometimes, and you didn't have to say yes. And if he ever gets to be too much, you back out at any time." "It's no problem, and you're basically my sister. I would do anything for friends." You two hug and you head for the elevator. Before the door closes, you see Johnny running at you. "Hold the elevator!" He slides in the elevator, pressing the button to take you to the lobby. You stand in awkward silence, staring at each other for a few seconds. You can tell he wants to say something, but just doesn't know what to say or how to say it. "Can I help you, Mr. Storm?" You ask. 'Keep it formal, Y/N. Keep the distance, hide the attraction.' you think to yourself. "Yeah, you can. You know, at first I didn't recognize you. You've changed so much since we first met and you rejected me. Longer hair, a make over. You've been working out too. A more fit form," as he speaks, he moves closer to you, pushing you back against the wall. "And man, one look at you bent over, that little business skirt tightening on your ass," he slaps said body part, "and just sticking out there, begging to be grabbed and squeezed and slapped. And your eyes, such fire and passion setting my powers off, making me almost smoke. Your mouth, your sharp tongue, those supple, succulent lips. When you talked and breathed, your breasts moving up and down. Your legs. Oh god. I want them around me. And your voice. The way you stay so formal, the husky, lush, raspy way you talk when quiet, yet has such a sharp little bite when you whip that tongue, berating and insulting me. It only makes me want you more." You were shocked. Johnny had never talked to you like this, even in your wildest dreams. He made your knees weak, your stomach churn, and your core burn. It had been too long since you've been with a man in this way. "And damn it all to hell, I'm going to have you before this case is over. You can count on that." Before you had a chance to respond, his lips crashed onto yours, stealing your breath from your lungs. Your knees finally gave out. Johnny held you up, wrapping one arm around your waist, the other on your ass. The elevator dinged, separating you two. Your breathing was heavy, your head was swimming, all from Johnny rocking your world this one simple kiss. "I'll see you soon," Johnny said, helping you out of the elevator, winking before the door closed. 'What have I gotten myself into?'