#I don’t exactly remember but I guarantee the second one he’s staring at Mike
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Fantasy Cruise
This piece is made for a very special someone, @standoutofthecrowd as a gift. The characters in this story are original and do not belong to any fandom. If you give it a read, I hope you enjoy ❣
Warning! The rating of this is M for Mature themes. ;)
They called it the Fantasy Cruise.
The hyper-luxurious ship of not-so innocent dreams, which promised to make anyone’s fantasies a reality during its five-day trip across the Mediterranean.
Well. So long as the money was there for an individual to afford one of its limited, mind-boggingly expensive tickets. Whoever said dreams were cheap clearly hadn’t heard of that cruise.
The advertisements all over the world promoted the experience as ‘starring in a romance movie’. And wouldn’t anybody be excited to star in their very own epic adventure?
“No.” Quinn deadpanned, dragging her luggage behind as she followed Lena into the fifth circle around the same deck, where their cabins were supposed to be.
“What do you mean no, stupid, isn’t this amazing?!” the other girl asked excitedly.
Quinn wondered what exactly was so amazing about getting lost on a piece of wood floating into the vast blue sea. Her glare met Lena’s back without much of an impact.
“No means no. It’s fine at best.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Quinn! Just look at this!” the redhead said, turning around to throw an arm around her shoulders and motion towards the polished-to-a-sparkle saloon, as if that would change the brunette’s entire worldview. “I won us free holidays to the world’s sexiest cruise. You should be beside yourself with excitement right now and buying me a shit ton of drinks as thank you!”
Quinn shook her head. “Correction; You won a trip for you and Mike –but then you had to go and break up and drag me into this, at the last moment.” As always. The woes of being a best friend.
“Because your single ass could really use what this dreamy ship has to offer.” Lena stated.
“It could also use some rest and relaxation at my grandparents’ seaside house.” The brunette countered. “Instead of being the wingwoman to the universe’s most annoying redhead.”
Lena grimaced. “And a sucky wingwoman, at that. Most of the guys I’m interested in come onto you.”
“Except I’m a tad too gay to care.” Quinn let out a small, exasperated sigh.
“Well, then this cruise is your chance! There are a ton of girls here and I can guarantee they aren’t straight as arrows, hon.” Lena replied. “Tell you what. When we find our rooms, we’ll take a look around. And if nobody exists to catch the great Quinn’s interest, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the trip.”
Quinn’s brown eyes immediately lit up at the sound of that.
“I should be offended at how much you perked up just now.” The other girl commented. “But, anyway. Do we have a deal?”
They shook hands. “We got a freaking deal.”
It only took another hundred turns to find their respective rooms.
…
Quinn was no stranger to waiting for Lena to get ready. The woman could show up anywhere from a quarter to an hour later than their arranged meeting time, so it was nothing out of the norm.
Alone in the empty corridor, Quinn checked her smartwatch, then leaned back against her door with a bored huff. She could already feel the ultra-comfy, queen-sized bed within calling her name, but if she gave into the urge to rest Lena would surely come in like the human wrecking ball she was and ruin it for her.
Giggles from down the corridor reached her ears, then.
Two girls were walking towards her, one raven-haired, the other blonde. Quinn didn’t really pay them any mind, until they were close enough to tell the cute laugh belonged to the blondie.
The stunning blondie.
Quinn hoped –but wasn’t betting on it— that she was subtle in her double-take. Because as soon as the beauty entered her field of vision, all else faded into the background. The girl’s hair was shining like silken strands, her pink lips glossy and glistening, absolutely kissable, her pretty face and killer body taken straight out of a dream.
Hazel eyes met brown for a single, earth-stilling second.
Then the girls were past her and Quinn blinked, checking the blonde’s back out before she disappeared around the next corner.
Damn, she thought. Maybe all that crap about fantasies coming to life weren’t complete bullshit, after all.
“Why do you look like a fish out of water?” Lena’s voice came, shattering the dream to pieces.
“Because I felt like one, waiting for your sorry ass to get ready. Move it or I’m going for a nap.”
“No, you’re not~ we’re hitting the pool.” Lena sing-songed.
Ugh. Maybe I can find someone to keep her busy for the next four days. Quinn thought. She’s happy, I’m free, win-win.
If she only knew…
…
“Hey. Hey look.” Lena whispered. Quinn huffed over her drink. “How about that guy? How would you rate him?”
“Why do you assume my answer’s gonna change? All guys get a zero out of ten from me. Period.”
“He’s an eight at least.”
“Sure, Lena.”
“How about that sexy over there, who’s been staring at your abs for the past ten minutes?”
“Hm?” Quinn turned, following her friends’ gaze under her glasses.
The drink nearly dropped from her hand when she saw the blonde from earlier on the other side of the crystalline pool, fair skin glittering from suncream. The brunette’s throat went dry.
“Ah, now she’s speechless.”
“Tsk. Don’t be an idiot, she’s probably not even gay.”
“Do you have eyes? Even I can tell she’s interested.” was the immediate reply.
“From this distance you couldn’t tell a dude apart from a girl, you idiot.” Quinn teased with a smirk.
“You’re the idiot if you don’t act fast and another girl chats her up first. Remember; We’re here to have a good time. Stop being uptight; There’s your good time, all blonde and waiting for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Lena, whatever you say-” But her friend was already rising from her sunbed. Quinn didn’t pay her any mind, at first, thinking she was just going for a swim or for a guy that caught her eye.
Instead, five minutes later, much to Quinn’s terror, the insufferable redhead was taking a seat right beside the cute blonde.
To say the brunette rushed to the other side of the pool would be an understatement. She could not recall a single instance in her life where she ran faster. It was practically teleportation.
“Hello, girls. This one has had too much to drink so excuse me, I’m taking her away~”
“Lies, they needed to know you have the hots for blondie but you’re too pussy to make a move-” the redhead began.
Quinn covered Lena’s mouth with a hand, pulling her into a headlock with the other. “Shh, don’t listen. We’re leaving. Sorry for the interruption.”
“Sad.” Miss Cute Blonde spoke up with a shy smile. “So… you’re not interested in me.”
“I… did not say that.” Quinn replied, heart suddenly in her throat. “I also didn’t say I don’t want your number.”
“Oh, good.” Another darling smile.
God. Head empty, girl too pretty. Quinn mentally slapped herself to get her shit together. “And definitely didn’t say I don’t want to see you at the bar later. At, like, ten o’clock.” Thank whatever higher power graced me with this sudden bravery.
“Maybe I’ll be there.” The blonde said.
It was only after Quinn went back inside with her friend in tow that she realized she didn’t even ask for the girl’s name.
“You’re welcome.” Lena laughed.
“Shut up…”
“You’re such a useless lesbian, by the way.”
…
Night had well settled over the ship. The massive pool at its pinnacle stood illuminated by both the moonlight and the soft LEDs within it, creating a beautiful setting, equal parts calming and seductive. Perfect for drinks and dates.
Quinn adjusted her blue button-up shirt as she walked out into the deck, greeted by the wonderful sight. There were tons of well-dressed people all around, but her eyes caught on one individual only.
“Hi.” She greeted, surprised she could speak at all, with the gorgeous blonde right there and dressed up just for her.
“Hey.”
“You look beyond beautiful. Only problem is, I can’t keep calling you ‘cute blonde’ in my head.”
“You look sexy. And you can call me Paisley, Quinn.” she replied in her sweet voice.
“You… know my name.” Don’t blush, don’t blush—
“I asked your friend.” came the shy admission.
“Yeah? What else did you ask about me?” Quinn smirked, slipping into the stool next to hers.
“Um… if you like girls…?”
“If I like you?” Feeling bolder, she raised a challenging eyebrow.
“If you like me…” Paisley chuckled there at the end. It was a sound that shot straight to Quinn’s heart.
And that– was worrying.
Because this was quite literally her dream girl in front of her... except she’d already paid the price of dreams, before. It had felt similar, then, since the first moment. A zap, undeniable attraction. An instant connection. And then… she’d been left bitter and alone.
Cold. Afraid to approach women for anything other than one quick, meaningless night.
“I think it’s quite easy to tell I do like you. A lot of things about you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, that melodic voice. How come a girl like you is single? That’s a crime.”
“Um. Long story, I guess. How come a girl like you is?”
“Long, unhappy story.” Quinn grimaced.
“I have time.”
They ended up chatting the night away, until the small hours of the morning.
…
The deck had nearly emptied.
Paisley and Quinn were walking side-by-side, admiring the dark waves as they gently lapped at the stark white shell of the cruise. It was time to say goodnight, but both were hesitant to go. To break the moment. To lose the chance for more.
Slowly, they turned to face each other.
“I had a great time.” Quinn began. “Thanks for the amazing company.”
“No, thank you…”
Neither moved to leave. Instead, they gravitated closer. Perhaps it wasn’t a smart move. Perhaps it would only lead to more trouble in the end. Perhaps it was fated. Perhaps it was fleeting.
But.
Quinn knew she would regret it for her entire life if she let Paisley slip away without first knowing exactly how soft her lips would feel against her own.
“So…” She began. “In the hypothetical scenario I wanted to kiss you before we go… would you like that?”
A brilliant smile, enough to rival the moon in its shine. “Hypothetically… I would.”
No more needed to be said.
The lock of their lips spoke the rest for them. Slippery, soft, tasting of daiquiri and strawberry lipgloss, that kiss was everything.
That kiss was the beginning of everything.
…
A full day had passed and they spent every moment together.
Swimming, laughing, trading interesting little facts and life stories. Trading kisses. What they had was a bond that formed so suddenly yet so powerfully it defied even logic.
As love often did.
And it was love. They both knew it, instinctively. Perhaps they weren't ready to admit it, perhaps the word was scary to fully register, yet that didn't make it any less true.
Every kiss fed something more than desire. Every caress, over an arm, over the gentle curve of a neck or a thigh, carried more than a physical aftershock.
They both knew they were on the same page on what they wanted, come nighttime. It was a wonder they hadn't ripped each other's bathing suits right by the pool so far. But they could only play nice for so long.
Quinn could feel her skin alight with want at every wayward trail of Paisley's nails on her. She wanted to have everything with the girl, even if it was just for a few days, just for one unforgettable night. They could worry about the rest later. They were already in too deep, anyway.
Paisley's back pressed against the door to her room. Her mouth was already onto Quinn's, tongue over her own, soft sighs and breaths filling the nonexistent space between their bodies.
Quinn's hands slipped under the blonde's top, caressing her tight, quivering stomach.
“Ah, at this rate we'll never make it inside.” Paisley panted.
“Good. Then whoever comes this way will know you're mine to have.” Quinn replied. Her teeth caught the sensitive shell of an ear. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? For them to walk in on us like this? With my hand in your pants, rubbing you slowly?”
“Mmh.. Fuck...”
“With my fingers in your pussy, working deep?”
“Fuck Quinn...” Paisley groaned, pushing herself down on the thigh trapped between her legs. It only made the ache at her center worse.
Quinn couldn't help but rub herself against her, to ease her own lust. Their lips locked again while Paisley fumbled blindly for the electronic lock. It was a wonder they got the door to open with how focused they were on each other. Quick steps took them to the plush mattress at the far end of the room.
The brunette pushed gently, taking great pleasure in how easily her lover allowed herself to fall. Pale wrists were pinned onto the bed while thirsty tongues and bodies sought each other out...
But then they both pulled back. Paused. Stared into each other's eyes. The mood shifted like the wind before a storm. All the previous lust melted into something softer and far deeper, the urgency muted as they slowly started peeling each other's clothes off.
“You really are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.” Quinn whispered.
“You're the most stunning I've seen.” Paisley said back, a hand caressing her brunette's strong shoulders.
As much as she wanted to melt under the ministrations, Quinn wanted to bring her girl to that serrated edge of bliss, first. Thus began her descent down the marble plane of the blonde's neck, pausing to mark the skin with her teeth before soothing it with licks and kisses, enjoying every hitched breath she drew.
God, she feels so good...
With a light caress over Paisley's thigh, her mouth licked over a hard nipple, paying it the proper attention before moving further down. Her blonde was quivering by that point, non-verbally begging for her release. Every muscle taut, every breath shallow, eyes blown into swirling black pools. She was breathtaking.
Everything about the moment was.
When deft fingers finally dragged over soaked flesh, the reaction was as immediate as it was loud. Quinn decided she could easily get hooked on the sound and repeated the same motion with her tongue, from bottom to top.
She could feel in her mouth how ready to topple over the edge Paisley was for her. How she tried to last longer but couldn't help it. Quinn didn't think she could wait any longer, either. She needed to see her unravel more than she needed oxygen, right then.
With the insertion of fingers and a powerful suck, Paisley was crying out into the room, arching, clenching and contorting for her. Quinn, brought to the edge by her voice alone, couldn't help but grind down on her leg to mirror her release.
They both lay together after that, basking in the quiet closeness of their afterglow, hands roaming, worshiping, until the sunrise greeted them with its golden glory.
...
“I'm scared.” Paisley admitted between them. “That when the cruise ends, so will we. And I'm not ready to let this go tomorrow.”
“Neither am I. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.” Quinn said. “I haven't felt this way before. I don't generally feel things so... powerfully.” But this one slipped right under her defenses, somehow.
“But how will we make this work? You live here. I live on the other side of the world.” The blonde lowered her head, expression overtaken by sadness. “We'll just hurt to be apart.”
“We'll hurt, yes. But we won't 'just' hurt. Every relationship comes with pain— I think it's unavoidable, whether one’s partner is near or not. The question is, whether that pain is worth it. And I'd rather hurt yearning for you than for not having you at all.”
“I— I don't know what to say...” Paisley trailed off. “I only know I can't bear to lose you.”
“You won't lose me if you don't let me go. I will never abandon you, never let you face this shitty world alone.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
A promise sealed with a kiss and intertwined fingers below a gorgeous sunset.
And as it turned out, love can defeat any obstacle if it's real and true. Physical restrictions don't matter when it comes to what the heart needs. Distance bends before it. Even time can. Laws of physics and reason cease to apply.
The heart will love what it is meant to love.
#creative writing#original character#oc x oc#fanfiction#original work#quinn and paisley#love story#wlw#lgbtq#the gay is everywhere#happy pride 🌈#gift fic
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Youth II
Chapter Two - Common Interest
Word count: 2.9k
Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )
Chapter Summary: With the disappearance of Will Byers, you lend a helping hand to try an find the missing 12 year old boy.
A/n: forgive me for posting a second chapter on the same day as the first. I just need to get this one out before I lose my mind.
⟛⟛
You’d spent plenty of time staring off into space with your thoughts racing, you’d done it plenty at school, but this wasn’t right, it didn’t feel right and you hated it. Sure, you had plenty of odd experiences growing up, things you used to think were normal for other people, but apparently, they weren’t. And when you’d realized that, you kept them to yourself. But this wasn’t just something you were seeing, this was real, and you knew it, and everything else paled in comparison to this level of oddness.
Why was it always small towns? When you hear about missing people or cold cases that seem to throw police and detectives for a loop it always took place in small towns, quiet ones that people described as great to raise your kids in, places people settled down in to get away from the big cities.
When you’d been getting things together to leave for the day, you’d briefly heard about a missing kid, but hadn’t heard the name before you were slamming the motel door behind you to get to school, hopping down the walkway to the stairs trying to get your shoes on.
It wasn’t right, you would have known about this. Wouldn’t you? Sure, your dad never really talked much about his home town unless it was fond memories with his childhood friends, your uncles, but this was huge, something that should have at least been mentioned.
You had zoned out of the conversation happening next to you, ignoring every detail about the party Steve was throwing that night. You’d already declined on going to, much to both Steve and Carol’s disappointment. Carol mentioned how she was desperate to have another girl in their friend group, while Steve didn’t have much to say, just saying to come with him to find Nancy Wheeler.
“Oh, God, that’s depressing.”
Steve’s tone wasn’t what you would consider empathetic, it was rather that of someone who didn’t want to see what was happening.
Tommy, Barbara, Nancy, Steve, and Carol all looked to the subject of your staring, their eyes all landing on Jonathan Byers using a thumbtack to put a missing person flyer on the bulletin board near the front office.
“Should we say something?” Nancy questioned.
“I don’t think he speaks.”
“How much you want to bet he killed him?” At that, you turned your head and glared at Tommy, as Steve hit his chest a friendly yet serious “Shut up.” being said before you turned back to look at Jonathan.
Nancy walked towards him, leaving the rest of you to stand and wait. The only real thing you could think about was how when you were 11, you had been with your parents, uncle, aunt and cousins, helping your uncle and aunt pack things to move to a new house, and when you’d been left alone, you’d found a box full of old things and you’d dug through it, curiosity getting the best of you. You’d gotten to an old yearbook, labeled ‘1984-1985.’ and before you could ever flip through half of it, your uncle had snatched it away from you, and without saying a word, he’d grabbed the box and left the room.
“You alright?” Barabara asked you, reaching out to hold your shoulder, it brought the other three’s attention to you as well. You didn’t really know Barbara, but you knew she had good grades, and sometimes tutored students in the library after school.
“Yeah, peachy.” was your response, turning your attention back to the conversation Nancy was having with Jonathan, everything being said completely unknown to all of you with the distance.
The bell rang, and students began to frantically move, like cockroaches when you turned a light on. Scattering as quick as they could, but Barabara kept a hand on your shoulder, and in your peripheral vision you could make out her concerned look. Watching as Nancy came back over to the group of students Barbara took her hand off of your shoulder, everyone turning to walk down the hall once Nancy was there. But you were stalling, taking slow uneasy steps, barely keeping your eyes off of Jonathan, but when you knew that the group of students wouldn’t notice you weren’t with them, you turned back around, to see Jonathan heading for the doors.
“Jonathan!” You called out, jogging after him, seeing him stop just as he reached the metal and glass door. Catching up you placed your hands on your hips, trying to think of what to say. “Where we going?”
“What?” Jonathan questioned, brows furrowed as he looked at you, both his hands on the push bar of the door.
“Where we going? Wanna hear it French? Ou Allons nous?”
“We are not going anywhere. You have to go to. . .” Jonathan looked at the small notebook you held between two fingers, reading the angry red scribble on the front that said ‘Math’ “Mr. Swann’s?”
You breathed out through your nose, dropping your notebook. “Not anymore. Where are we going? This is about your brother, right? I wanna help.”
Jonathan sighed a bit, looking down at the linoleum floor before back up at you. “Why?”
“Common interest.” You told him.
“Our English project doesn’t have anything to do with-”
“This isn’t about Romeo and Juliet, moron. This is about your brother. Listen I just. . . everything about this, makes my stomach churn, I need to see him come back home alive. See? Common interest.”
Jonathan gave an absent-minded nod, the look on his face telling you he knew that feeling. “Indianapolis.” He told you, opening the door and barely stepping out, with you hot on his heels. But he stopped suddenly, turning back to you, holding a finger up. “But you stay out of it, Lonnie isn’t too friendly, and I've seen him angry. If I tell you to go back to the car, you go, understand?”
“You’re not my dad, if I see things start going south, I’m getting both of us out of there.” You told him. “Teamwork makes the dream work, now go before I stomp on your shoes, and there’s no guarantee that I won’t give you a flat tire on the way to the car.”
⟛⟛
Sitting in the passenger seat, you looked to the radio, eyes on the station number as the familiar intro to a song began on the radio. The first time you remembered hearing the song, you were four and had woken up from a nap to the smell of macaroni and cheese, and the sound of your newborn baby brother sneezing in his sleep in the crib on the other side of the room. The music was being played from the living room stereo, loudly. But one thing about being raised by your dads was that you had to adapt to loud music being played. Even Daniel had adapted to it at a few weeks old. You’d gotten out of bed and gotten to the living room, where the stereo was on, and your dad in the kitchen, putting some of the macaroni in one of your bowls and one of his own.
The last time you remembered listening to that song was when your cousins had convinced you to go with them into town, Torrey being the one with the idea, and with her speaker, playing a random playlist. You remembered that she skipped the song halfway through.
Torrey never had a good track record, that was for sure, she was always in trouble, much to your uncle Mike’s dismay. But you and James were always the more reasonable ones out of all of you. But Torrey was the oldest, and as a result, like the older sister, and everyone wanted to be like their cool older sister. So whatever she suggested the lot of you do, you did it.
That always resulted in trouble. The only one who could ever reason with all of you was Uncle Dustin, of course, it had to be the uncle who didn’t have kids. It annoyed Mike, Lucas, and your dad to no end that when with Torrey, they couldn’t get through to any of you.
But, Torrey wasn’t technically your oldest cousin. No, that was Rob. Your uncle’s oldest son. But he was a bit over a decade older than you, so you didn’t really know him all too well. Torrey was almost a decade older, just short two years.
“This the place?” you asked, looking past Jonathan trying to see through the foggy window, rain pouring down onto the pavement outside, and tapping gently on the windows and roof of the car. The fogged-up window told you it was cold out there, and warmer inside.
“Yeah. . .”
“Lonnie’s. . . Who is Lonnie, exactly?” You questioned, unbuckling the seatbelt as Jonathan did the same.
“Our dad,” Jonathan answered, opening his car door and getting out. You reached into the backseat, grabbing your coat as a sudden and startling cool gust of wind hit you, sending goosebumps up your neck and arms. Jumping a bit you looked to the door, seeing that Jonathan had gotten it for you. “Come on.” he rushed you.
You didn’t know if you wanted to go up to the house that the teenage boy was eyeing, you knew that if you’d never heard about Lonnie before, it was for a reason. Likely a good one.
Stepping out of the car, you pulled your jacket on just as Jonathan closed the passenger door for you, heading to the run-down home across the street. You followed shortly after, feeling your ankles begin to get wet as drops of rain-soaked through the canvas material of your shoes.
Standing under the overhang of the front porch you watched as Jonathan looked through the glass of the front door, music from either a television or stereo being hear from outside, over the rain. Jonathan knocked on the door. “Hello?” He shouted.
“Maybe he’s not home?”
Jonathan gave a bitter scoff as he continued to bang on the door insistently before you heard a woman’s voice yell out something indistinct. And before you could process it, the front door was opened.
“Can I help you?” She demanded.
“Yeah, is Lonnie around?” Jonathan asked, his body language giving off just as much attitude as her but his voice remaining calm.
“Yeah, he’s out back. What do you want?”
“To look around.” and with that, Jonathan stepped past her into the house, with you following right behind.
The living area had warm lighting from the lamps, with the absence of an overhead light. And the tv that was small by your standards had M.TV on. It was a mess, with things seemingly tossed around, it felt like the beginning of a hoarder’s home before it got worse and it was filmed for a stupid television show.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Hey!” The woman yelled after the two of you. You were hot on Jonathan’s heels, keeping in mind what he said about his father. You’d rather stick close.
“We’ll be fast, promise!” you told her.
“Hey, Will?” Jonathan questioned, going down the hallway, looking into doorways, calling out his younger brother’s name in a more urgent tone while you gave a longer look into each room.
Jonathan turned around from the last room, shaking his head and looking at you, going to walk back out of the hall. But just as he came to the end, a man slammed Jonathan against the wall, holding the collar of his sherpa jean jacket. You jumped back, just before Jonathan shoved who you were now assuming was Lonnie. “Get off!”
“Damn, you’ve gotten stronger.” The older man gave a shove to Jonathan’s shoulder, looking past the two males you saw the woman from the front door.
“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?”
Lonnie looked at her, then back at Jonathan and then to you, before doing the opposite. “Jonathan, Cynthia. Cynthia this is Jonathan. My oldest. I don’t know who this little lady is.”
Lonnie shoved Jonathan’s shoulder again before pulling him into a hug. “Get off me, man.” Jonathan pushed him off.
The look on Lonnie’s face was that of pure cluelessness as if he didn’t understand why Jonathan would shove him away like that. But with how Jonathan had briefly spoken about him and how he had just acted, you knew the relationship wasn’t what you’d expect of a father and son.
Lonnie turned his gaze to you, “Who’s she?” He asked, looking to Jonathan again.
“A friend,” you responded. Sure, you and Jonathan weren’t all that close, but in this situation, you were sure he needed one, and even if you weren’t technically ‘friends’ he would know he had someone in his corner. “We’re looking for Will.”
“I already talked to the cops. He’s not here and he never has been.”
“Right, well, I think everyone gets a little nervous when they see and talk to cops, if Will’s here I doubt he would have come out when police were here.”
Lonnie looked as though he was trying to process what you had said. “If it makes you two feel better you can look around.”
“Hm, gladly,” you responded.
Jonathan and you spent a few moments in the rundown house, and once the rain had let up, Jonathan went outside, with you and Lonnie both trailing behind.
“Take a look at this beaut. Should’ve seen it when I got it. Took me a year, but it’s almost done.” Lonnie spoke about the car Jonathan was headed toward, opening the trunk once he reached the back. “Really? Do you want to check up my ass, too? I told you the same thing I told those cops, he’s not here and he never has been.”
“Then why didn’t you call Mom back?”
“I don’t know, I just. . . I assumed she forgot where he was. You know, he was lost or something. That boy was never very good at taking care of himself.”
“This isn’t some joke, all right? There are search parties, reporters. . .”
The way Lonnie was treating the situation made you uncomfortable. He didn’t care. It was clear he didn’t with the new information that Jonathan’s mother had called him, and he never answered or called back, how he lived a two-hour drive away and seemed to be talking about anything else but Will.
“Hopper’s not still chief, is he? Tell your mother she’s gotta get you out of that hellhole. Come out here to the city. People are more real here, you know? And then I could see you more.”
“If you wanted to see them more you wouldn’t have made the choice to live so far away.” You interrupted. You knew full well that had your parents ever split in an ugly way like it seemed Lonnie and Joyce had, neither of your fathers would move so far away that it felt like two different worlds. They’d stay close together so both you and your brother still had both of them. “Sounds like shitty parenting on your part, not her’s.”
Lonnie looked at you and tilted his head. “What? You think I don’t want to see my boys?”
“It’s kinda obvious that you don’t.” You responded, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Has Jonathan let you be around his mother? Because you sound just like her. Speaking of her, does she even know you’re here?” Lonnie turned back to Jonathan. You didn’t even know the answer to that, but Jonathan’s silence was an answer. “Great. So one kid goes missing, the other one runs wild? Some real fine parenting right there. Look, all I’m saying is, maybe I’m not the asshole, all right?”
Though Lonie couldn’t see it, you were glaring at him, but Jonathan could, and he gave you a look before reaching into his shoulder bag, pulling out a poster. A copy of the one he’d put up at school. “In case you forgot what he looks like,” Jonathan grumbled, shoving the poster into Lonnie’s chest as he walked away. Gesturing for you to follow.
The two of you walked around the house instead of through it, with small water droplets coming down once again as you crossed the street to the car.
“He’s a prick.” You mumbled as you passed Jonathan to get to the passenger side. Jonathan stared at you for a second.
“Y/n.”
You had grabbed onto the handle of the car door when he said your name, catching your attention. “Yeah?”
“Why do you care? You’re new in Hawkins, you’ve only been there for a few months, and you care about this more than people who have known me and Will since were kids. You’ve never even seen Will.”
You looked down at the pavement beneath you. The smell of rain invading your nose, calming you down just a bit. “Common interest.” You repeated what you had said before.
He didn’t look convinced with how his face seemed to harden and become far more serious. “Look,” You started, letting go of the handle resting your hands on the roof of the car. “Will’s alive, he has to be. I know he is. If I told you how I know, you’d call me crazy. I care about you, your brother and your mom. Lonnie? Not so much. . . Just. . . trust me, okay?”
Jonathan didn’t say anything or even do anything else in response. He opened the driver’s door and got in his seat, tossing his bag into the back as you did the same, buckling yourself in and looking out the window.
⟛⟛
Add yourself to the taglist!
@stonersteve @ilovebucketbarnes
#steve x reader#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things fanfiction
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Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between - Chapter Six
@violetreddie @tinyarmedtrex @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth @burymestanding @annoyingtozier
Read on AO3 HERE
“This won’t hurt a bit”
Eddie flinches, face twisting in horror at Stan’s outstretched hand.
Richie scrunches his hands into fists, fingernails digging deep welts into the soft flesh of his palm.
He knows that Eddie’s scared. Even though his face looks as it always does, solid but not quite, flesh-coloured but not really, Richie can tell that he’s scared. He’d grown quite good at reading Eddie now, like an old paperback, dog-eared and over-read. Mike’s outside. He’s watching Mr. Chips frolic in the lake, chasing sticks and stones and his shiny red ball that Mike keeps chucking into the water. Richie watches the dog out of the corner of his eye, and, if just for a moment, he forgets.
But then Eddie makes a noise, a choked sort of noise, caught half-way between a whimper and a cough, and he remembers. Of course he remembers.
Eddie. Eddie. Eddie who had looked at Richie with pleading, insistent eyes, muttering “Rich? I -- I don’t know if I can do this without you” when they’d been sat outside on the decking, moon watching, stars listening.
Stan had erected what looked like a large metal tube in the centre of Richie’s living room. It was almost as tall as the ceiling, and Stan had babbled the whole time that it took him to build the device, hair swept off his face with a thick elastic headband, eyes sparkling. Eddie hadn’t moved for hours, just stood in the corner of the room, watching Stan like a rabbit watches a fox. Cautious, ready to skitter away into the safety of the undergrowth at a moment’s notice. Richie crouches down next to Stan, leaning close enough so that when they speak in hushed tones, Eddie won’t hear them.
“Are you sure this won’t hurt him?”
Stan didn’t look up, and continued fiddling with one of the cables.
“I told you. He can’t feel pain, at least, not yet”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean! Not yet,” Richie hissed, scandalized.
“Well, he might feel a, well, he might feel a tingling sensation if this works”
“What do you mean if!”
Stan looked at him, face a careful mask of cool indifference.
“I told you. This is never a guarantee. Energy is -- look, energy is complicated. It’s far more complicated than you could ever imagine. Manipulating it, it’s hard. It’s more than hard. It’s almost impossible. It doesn’t always work”
“What happens if it doesn’t work?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Should I know?”
Stan put the cable he was holding down, and stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans before offering one to Richie. Richie accepted it, and let Stan haul him to his feet.
“Richie. I want you to be prepared, for … for the worst possible outcome. There are three outcomes, as I see it. Three outcomes I’ve seen before, anyway. The one we want, the one that will probably happen is that this process works and I can pull him through and he’ll be corporeal again. It could go a bit wrong, though. Bits of him might … not convert. He might be, missing things”
“Missing things?” Richie whispered, voice faint.
“Maybe. Maybe missing things. Probably not.”
“What’s the third outcome?”
“Well, the third outcome is that I lose him”
“Like, you misplace him?”
“Sort of. The worst outcome is that he gets absorbed into the reaction and I can’t stop it in time to pull him back out again, if that happens, we need to, you need to --”
A shrill beeping noise cut through Stan’s words.
Richie grabbed his phone off the table, and glanced at the screen.
From: Mike Hanlon (Plumber):
Calm the fuck down, Rich. Breathe. I can tell that you’re freaking him out from out here.
Richie looked up, and locked eyes with Mike, who was still outside with Mr. Chips but was now gesturing wildly at Eddie, who still hadn’t moved.
“I’m calm, Staniel. I’m calm as a fucking serene stream in Norway. Explain to me again how all this works?”
Stan huffed, “I’ve told you this about fifty times now. The accelerator is a large circular metal chute, sort of like a waterslide, or an inside athletics track. We fire electrons into this chute, and they accelerate around a magnetic field. So, once they reach around three-hundred thousand kilometres per second, they shoot out of a small opening, bounce off a small slab of gold, and smashes into Eddie and, hopefully, he’ll be recorporialised!”
“So it’s based on luck?”
“It’s not nothing to do with luck!” Stan snapped, stalking over to the control panel of the device, “it’s not anything to do with luck and everything to do with science. If my calculations are correct, and they almost always are, it’ll go without a hitch”
“And what if your calculations are wrong?”
“Well, I suppose the absolute worst case scenario is that I might accidentally create a very small black hole,” Stan said, breezily, as if he hadn’t just admitted that this process could cause the end of the world as they knew it.
“A black hole?!”
“Well, I’ve never created one before, so I have no reason to think I’ll create one now”
“So I assume you’ve done loads of these reanimation things before then?”
“Recorporealisations,” Stan corrects, “and I’ve done … enough. Enough to know I won’t create a black hole”
“How many is enough?”
“I have done six”
“SIX!” Richie practically screeches, a noise so high it scratches at the back of his throat.
“It’s six more than you’ve ever done! Look, I need you to stop second guessing me, Rich. I’m good at this. I know exactly what I’m doing. You’ve gotta trust me if you want this to work”
“I trust you”
Both Stan and Richie turn around in shock. It’s Eddie. Eddie who has barely spoken for the past seven hours, Eddie who Richie was half-expecting to disappear through the floorboards, his new favourite trick, and never appear again. Eddie, who Richie had grown … used to. Eddie had become a fixture of Richie’s life in a split second, swift enough that it was unnoticeable. As reliable and constant as the tide.
– x –
They’re standing outside Richie’s house. It’s dark. The house is silent and still, a statue in the fog. Stan’s stood next to the kitchen tapping away on a thing that looked like a circuit-board. Mike caught Richie’s hand in his as soon as they’d stepped out into the garden. Eddie was inside. Eddie was inside, alone, standing inside Stan’s homemade electron collider, and Richie wasn’t with him. Richie had allowed himself to be ushered outside, like a sheep, to await further instruction.
He’d left Eddie alone, inside what was for all intents and purposes a large metal box, waiting to have electrons slammed into his chest at hundreds of thousands of kilometres an hour.
“Are we doing the right thing?” he asked no one in particular. Only the wind responded.
Stan was shouting through the living room window, and Richie could hear Eddie’s replies, voice floating on the breeze like autumn leaves. Scared, shaky but sure.
“Now, when I yell ‘hold your breath’, that’s when you’ll know the machine has been turned on”
“Do I actually have to hold my breath?” Eddie responds, and Stan grins.
“Yeah, if you breathe out you might expel some energy and then you might wake up with no lungs!”
Richie’s stomach drops. “Stan?” He asks, voice and hands trembling.
“It was a joke! Eddie, Eddie, I’m joking, you don’t have to hold your breath, you’re going to be fine. We all good? We all ready? Alright then, gang, wagons roll! EDDIE! HOLD YOUR BREATH”
– x –
Nothing happened.
Richie expected a repeat of earlier, with the huge blooming mushroom of light, the fire in the sky, the noise. Instead, his nerves were rewarded with silence.
The silence stretched until it was thin and flabby, until it had wrapped its way around his throat multiple times, constricting, suffocating, until he could take it no longer.
“Did it work?”
“We haven’t been sucked into a black hole, so it worked in that respect”
Richie ripped a handful of grass out of the sodden earth and threw it at Stan’s head. A ridiculous display of rage.
“You know full fucking well that isn’t what I meant”
“We have to wait fifteen minutes. It needs to cool down, Eddie needs to … Eddie’s going to be in a lot of pain right now, his body is … unstable. He needs to fight it alone”
“He’s in pain?! If you don’t want more grass shoved down your fuckin’ oesophagus you’ll get the fuck out of my way”
Mike immediately yanked him back, a strong arm wrapped around Richie’s heaving chest.
“I know yer scared for him, kid. I know. You gotta trust Stan, okay, if he says we cannae’ go in, we cannae’ go in. He’s fine, it’s gonna be fine,” Mike muttered into Richie’s ear, low and steady.
“Richie, if you touch him, he’ll explode. His body isn’t stable. You’ll kill him,” Stan said, plainly.
Richie wrestled against Mike’s arm, occasionally yelling Eddie’s name fruitlessly into the night.
Fifteen minutes came and went. Stan didn’t move.
“What are we waiting for, Stan? I wanna go get my boy”
“Let him come to you, Richie,” Stan said, staring through the living room window, an odd expression on his face.
Richie was about to ask what was wrong, when the door swung open. A man stood in the door way. A man who was entirely naked, apart from a sheet he’d draped over himself in a sort of makeshift toga. A man with wild hair, strong shoulders and one arm.
Eddie.
#reddie#eddie kaspbrak#richie tozier#Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak#above beneath betwixt between#ghost au#property developer richie#ghost eddie#thefutureisbright#ao3#short chapter :(
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alright everyone. after my rush of emotions after that season, i’ve had time to decompress, and make an actually cohesive list of my thoughts about the season. as you could probably guess - MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!
first, let’s get the (much) shorter list out of the way. here’s what I enjoyed:
the acting. i want to mention how good millie was, because she was fantastic, but i almost feel like i shouldn’t, bc el took SO MUCH screen and plot time, that millie was given every opportunity to be good. she doesn’t really need any more special mention. otherwise - noah (with the little he was given) and sadie were particularly great. so were winona & david, but that goes without saying.
the elmax friendship. these two deserved it. and max bringing el out of her shell, showing her how to become her own person.... incredible. 10/10 i love them both
alexei. feels weird saying this, but he was probably the new addition I enjoyed watching the most. it would have been kind of cool to see him live past season 3.
an lgbt+ confirmed character. this one is a little.... tricky for me. as happy as I am that there is a queer woman written into the show... I feel like it’s a cop out to not have to confirm will’s sexuality. robin confirms her sexuality in less than a season, but after three with will, we still only get ~subtext~? still, this is a positive portion, so.... I guess that was something I was happy with
el moving in with the byers at the end. finally. this is one of the only things that is keeping me excited for s4. i guess i can only hope for there to FINALLY be some good willel interactions next season, but if this season has taught me anything, it’s not to get my hopes too high :-)
jancy ending s3 on a good note. parts of their storyline were fantastic, some were disappointing. but i really dug their dynamic, and the realistic struggle between the two of them, with nancy not really understanding jonathan’s class struggles, and jonathan not grasping the weight of the misogyny being thrown at nancy. their final moments at the empty byers house at the end were especially lovely.
el no longer being OP, and not being undefeatable. i love el. i really, genuinely do. i love her character, i love her traits, i lover her power. but the duffers were relying too heavily on her to constantly save the day with her powers, and it was happening too often. one of the faults of s2 was the constant thought of how easily el could’ve fought off all these threats if she was just there. i think it’s incredibly interesting to not only see her get completely worn out, but totally lose her powers. like mike said, i’m sure they’ll come back, but i want so badly for el to not just be defined by her powers.
a platonic m/f friendship. yes, one of them is confirmed queer, and they would’ve probably been romantically linked if she was straight. but i’ll take what i can get when it comes to this. platonic opposite sex relationships?? r i s e
now for the meat of my thoughts ~ what I didn’t like:
mike’s characterization. the writers completely made him into a dick this season. i get it, he’s a teenager, so he’s going to be an asshole sometimes. hell, in a recent post, I defended that, saying it’s good writing. but I underestimated just how awful he’d be, completely blowing off his friends for any chance for a second alone with el. I understand that he loves his girlfriend of course, but s1-2 mike loved his friends just as much. he was so utterly unlikable this season, that it seemed like he was a different character.
lucas as comic relief. this is so lazy, and i’m so angry for both the character and caleb, both of whom deserve so much better. he really had nothing to do if it wasn’t related to max, and the writers further reduced him down to a one-dimensional, kind of dumb, mediocre boyfriend, and that is not the highly intelligent, brave, kind lucas that i know and love.
will’s sidelining. god, this made absolutely no sense. noah fucking shined last season. he stole pretty much the entire thing. every critic, even those who disliked the season, had nothing but good things to say about his performance. furthermore, will has so much potential in so many different directions in so many aspects of his character. however, once he revealed to his friends that he was feeling the upside down/MF’s presence... they may as well have written out his character. he was sidelined almost to the point of background character. they gave him very little to do emotionally after that castle byers scene, and even fewer lines.
total lack of willel scenes. phew, if this wasn’t a bummer. will spoke a single line to el, and maybe one or two throwaway lines about her. if there is one thing most of the fans can agree on, it’s that will and el have the biggest connection to the upside down, the biggest unspoken connection, the most parallels, and the most intriguing potential relationship... and they really just said “fuck it” and didn’t have them interact at all. (that’s poor writing folks!) they better make up for this now that they’re living together.
amount of eleven scenes. i love her so dearly. i really do. and i’m so happy she grew into her own, not through mike or hopper. but the amount of el plot and screen time this season was actually difficult to watch. every other scene centered around her. so many characters and so much of the story went undeveloped, while she got way, way more than was necessary. additionally, take any kid’s plot (other than dustin), and guaranteed, it revolved around el. people were starting to catch on that the show was favoring her character more than even most shows’ mains.... and this season took it to a level i actual didn’t think it would.
the comedy. it was so awkwardly written. so much of it threw off the pace of the show. it seemed forced, and just... not very stranger things-esque, where the comedy was typically well-written and blended into dialogue.
the baddies. this was a huge letdown, too. i understand that the monster was large, but it was far less menacing to me than, say, the MF’s physical form. it had gore points, sure. it felt incredibly boring and predictable. in the same vein, i thought the ‘zombie’ style storyline of heather & co. would be deeper than that, but that was literally all it was. again... not interesting to me. billy was a rehash as well. the russians definitely had potential, but even that plot wound up being incredibly one-dimensional.
billy’s screentime. this was one of the things i was absolutely furious about. he got more screentime than the party (minus el) combined. they wanted for us so badly to empathize with him, to humanize him... i’m sorry, but you wrote a character that almost killed a boy for being black, that abuses his sister, and is a misogynistic asshole. abuse doesn’t excuse that, and it’s insulting to abuse survivors to say that billy inevitably became this way because of his dad, and that he deserves our uwus for it... and actually got el’s. he took screen time away from characters who desperately needed it, and that’s something i will never look at the duffers the same way for.
the scoops troop. I wanted to love erica... but i feel so indifferent to her. she was way too much this season. and robin. again, i love that she’s confirmed queer. and i dug her character more. but even then... i don’t know. i would have rather never had her introduced, and allowed established characters to have been better developed. and as a whole, the whole storyline of the troop was just what I feared: underwhelming and awkwardly placed.
high steve & robin. won’t elaborate on this too much, bc there’s not much to elaborate on. it just felt so wildly out of place and unnecessary.
that dustin/suzie number. what the hell was that? what could have been a 20 second joke was stretched out WAY too long and was bizarrely placed. just because you have an actor from broadway, doesn’t mean he needs to sing. and even if he does sing... you couldn’t have found a better time or situation? i literally was just staring at my screen in disbelief as that whole thing happened. entirely unneeded.
the amount of flashbacks. i understand most casual viewers wouldn’t remember certain things because of how long it’s been. but they literally put a recap at the beginning of the season. that’s what it’s for. and there were also plenty from like.... the episode before??? the amount they included took away so much time, that it almost just seemed like they didn’t have enough footage, and they had to fill their time stamp somehow. at some point, it just becomes insulting to the audience’s intelligence.
the overall tone. this season did not feel like stranger things in the slightest. off the top of my head, the castle byers scene and the byeler scene in mike’s garage were the exceptions. the first few episodes did have some moments. but overall... it kind of felt like some weird, high budget commercial or something. the charm, distinct aesthetic, and nuance of seasons 1 and 2 was non-existent.
the post-credit scene. there was some last-minute hype up in the reviews for this. was that supposed to be shocking in some way? i suppose this is more the fault of the reviewers who hyped it, but... really? a demodog? we’ve seen that before... i guess more the point was to show that the russians officially have some kind of technology for this. but still, an underwhelming reveal. more intriguing to me, was if hopper was the american in the cell he mentioned at the start of it. or maybe brenner?
the neutral:
that ending. on one hand, it was incredibly predictable. they literally placed an obvious shot of it in the trailer (easy to deduce that the byers had moved out, and that it was fall, so it was an epilogue scene). i was convinced that there would be a twist element they weren’t showing us, but nope. on the other hand, i thought some things were done beautifully (which wasn’t exactly a trend this season). as i mentioned, i loved the jancy moments. i really did like the hopper voiceover, although it was a little trope-y and heavy-handed... i still got a little emo, ngl. those goodbye hugs were somethin’. and, as i said before... el! moving in! with the byers! gimme
so uh... that’s it, i guess. no one really asked, but i needed to get my thoughts out. what did you guys think of the season?
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Dark Laughter Part 8: Studio Time
((Here are links to Part 7: Just Be Happy and the start of the series, Part 1: What Dark Saw. Hey look, no warnings this time!))
The studio space that the egos used was, much like the rest of their home, not quite right with reality. Every time it was used it seemed just that little bit different, whether because the ceiling was slightly higher one day than the next or the segmented walls weren’t guaranteed to be in the same place every time the studio was used. Considering the wildly different uses the egos put the area to, there were props and flimsy backgrounds littering the floor everywhere outside of the relatively small space that was actually used for filming.
It also didn’t help that keeping a steady crew outside of the egos themselves was nearly impossible, as the guests weren’t the only ones lucky to survive even one segment. Right now, aside from the four egos standing around the cameras, the only other normal person was a man attending to the monitors where an earlier recording of Bim’s game show was playing.
“Wilford, why did you drag me here?” Dark asked, noticing that the Google standing among the other egos had already spotted him and was attempting to give him a warning glare. Dark returned it with interest and a silent promise to make the android regret any hasty words this time.
The glare was somewhat ruined when Wilford threw one arm around his shoulders and patted Dark’s cheek with his other hand. “I think it’s time to put you in front of the camera again! The fans have been asking for it, and this face deserves to be on the screen!”
Wilford shook his hand after the pat to dispel some of the cold seeping from Dark’s aura as he scowled. Behind him, the row of monitors began to flicker with static and ghost images while the intern pulled off his headphones and threw them as far away as possible.
“Or behind the camera is good too. Can never get enough help these days, and yes, Jerry, I’m talking about you. Tell your wife I said hi!”
Wilford ducked to avoid the mike that sailed through the space where his head had been a second ago and added to Dark as if nothing just happened, “But you want to get in the in, on the up and up, am I right? Here’s where we start.”
Wilford winked and strode across the studio floor toward the four egos.
“Good evening, everyone! Are we ready to start?”
“If you mean start my show, then yes,” Bim said, straightening his tie as he watched Wilford approach. “I have the studio for the day, and we still need to go two more rounds. Isn’t that right, my lovely contestants?”
“Uh, they all, uh, made a run for it,” Eric said from his place offstage and away from the cameras even though they were clearly not on. “During the break. The crew too. Jerry, um, he was the last one but I guess he’s gone now? Not that, uh, that’s Mr. Warfstache’s fault or anything, I’m sure he…had other things to do…”
Yandereplier hissed under their breath and said, “Yeah, kind of hard to finish the game without the players. Sorry, Bim.”
Yandereplier shrugged and the red-shirted Google appeared to be unable to care any less than he already did, but Eric seemed to make a determined effort to appear even smaller than his usual cowering. Bim’s anger, however, had only one target in mind as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
“Why do you do this every time?! Can’t you let me finish one segment without you butting your giant pink mustache into it?”
“Well, I don’t see how all that was my fault,” Wilford said, not backing down as Bim stormed up to him. “I’ve warned you about locking those doors, but you’re always so surprised when people run away because they ‘want to live’ or whatever. Why do you even bother with these game shows, anyways? Oh, whoop de do, ‘I’m the next Alex Trebek’ or whoever the kids are watching these days. Why don’t you ever change it up a little? Have some fun?”
Bim swelled up and gripped the lapels of his jacket as he gave Wilford the hard stare. “How dare you! Alex Trebek is a national treasure!”
“I’m…not sure that’s what you should be taking offense to,” Dark said as he approached. “And I also recall that you made an attempt to host your own game show, Wilford. What exactly did you have in mind here?”
“Hm…” Wilford paused to consider, long enough to confirm to everyone present he had no clue, before he said, “Oh, I know, how about an interview! Haven’t done one of those in a while.”
“And you’re not doing one while it’s still my studio time,” Bim said.
“Besides, how exactly is doing the thing you’ve always done changing it up?” Yandere asked, but both hosts ignored them.
“I’ll have to get my interviewing knife,” Wilford murmured to himself, patting down his thighs as he spoke. “How embarrassing, to be caught out with only my shooty and no stabbys.”
“Yan, go dig out some costumes, Eric, put on a wig, and Google, find some egos with nothing better to do, we’re finishing this show!”
“…Can I be the contestant that doesn’t have to go through the grinder?” Eric asked.
“Grinder?” Dark repeated.
“Only if you get your questions right!” Bim answered, playfully slapping the younger ego on the back. “…And get lucky with the Wheel of Wow.”
“No one is going through any grinder,” Dark said.
“Because we’re going to need to set up for the interview,” Wilford added. “Eric, find my chairs, Google, set the lighting, Yan, keep being beautiful, you. Oh, who should our guest be? I hear there’s a kid named Sally Face who’s got some wild stories to tell, we just need to get past the guards and—”
“Uh, no, we’re going to finish the game! You can’t just leave the grinder waiting!”
“…I rather think we can,” Dark muttered, noting to himself that this is exactly why almost no one else in the house ever got presents from Santa. He reached out and grabbed Eric’s shoulder while he waffled back and forth on who to listen to and said, “Just give it a minute.”
“I, uh—” Eric flinched as both Wilford and Bim threw out conflicting orders on what he should be doing as their argument escalated, starting with reasonable requests such as to get one of the others and going on to tearing down the set, finding a prison guard’s uniform, and turning on the “fighting music,” whatever that was. “Should we do something?”
“Nah,” Yandere said as they pulled out their phone to check some messages. “This happens all the time. Just let ‘em vent, right Google?”
“To save on memory and data usage, this unit ignores orders until the fighting stops,” Google answered, watching as Bim reached his arm up and around, trying to get a hold of Wilford’s mustache from the half nelson hold Wilford had him locked in. “Longest recorded time was 4 hours, 37 minutes, and 3 seconds.”
“Only because you stopped counting during the great pineapple on pizza debate because you said it was stupid,” Yandere pointed out. “That lasted, like, weeks.”
“Yes. We completed several tasks while you lesser beings were occupied arguing the merits of frivolous and ultimately meaningless energy consumption,” Google said, smiling to himself. “It was a good time.”
As entertaining as this was, Dark didn’t feel like waiting to see if these two would break that record. “That is enough. Wilford, enough!”
He hauled on both of them, pulling them up to their feet and using his aura to separate the two long enough for Wilford to fix his suspenders and Bim to run a hand over some flyaway hairs.
“Neither of you are going to be recording anything,” Dark said, and interrupted them before either could protest. “Bim, you have no crew, no contestants, and you might as well just try to salvage what you can from what you’ve already recorded at this point or start over. Wilford, you don’t even have a guest, much less any prepared questions, and again, no film crew.”
“Pft, who needs preparation?” Wilford asked.
“Weren’t you just saying you wanted to try and work on scripts a few minutes ago?” Dark asked.
“But this is my studio time, I don’t want to just waste it.” Bim scowled. “Who even asked you, anyways?”
“I could let Wilford put you back into a headlock,” Dark offered. “There’s enough cameras around here, maybe we could film that and post it instead.”
“I mean, I got most of it on my phone already,” Yandere chimed in. “But if you want to keep going, we could get some sweet angles, maybe get some props to beat each other with. Google, you can handle music, right?”
“I have access to a wide variety of music which may be suitable for this situation,” Google said. His eyes blanked for a moment and then he added, “Would you prefer heavy metal or banjo?”
“Banjo!” Wilford answered, cracking his knuckles.
Bim paused to consider and said, “You know, if you wanted another pair of eyes on those scripts, I’m sure we can come up with something…A little less harmful to my health?”
Wilford’s mustache tilted as his mouth twisted underneath it and he stroked his chin. “A crossover, you say? A little something to keep the fans guessing?”
Bim couldn’t hide his relief that Wilford was already moving on to another idea, but that meant he now had to follow up. After a moment of struggle, his eyes lit up. “You know, these ninja warrior, ultimate champion obstacle course type shows are fairly popular these days.”
“Obstacles?” Wilford grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Pits. Pendulums. Possibilities.”
“I know where we can get some chiranhas who are ready for some fresh me—er, fun.”
“Bim, my buddy, I think it may be time to move outside of this studio and really get our hands dirty,” Wilford said, throwing an arm around the ego’s shoulders. “Tell me more about these chiranhas.”
Dark watched the two of them start throwing ideas back and forth and admitted aloud, “I may have just unleashed a great evil upon this world.”
“Eh, it’s Tuesday. Bound to happen eventually,” Yandere said with a shrug. “You should see what I got up to in the Occult Club last week.”
“Remember, don’t make any deals with demons without letting me vet them first,” Dark said out of reflex and Yandere snorted. He noticed that Google was still giving him the glare and asked, “What? What problem could you possibly have with me right now?”
“It is my directive to keep an eye on you when in the same vicinity in case you revert to previous modes of behavior,” Google answered. “That same directive warns against behavior designed to curry favor or increased familiarity in an attempt to regain your previous station within the house.”
“For how long?” Dark asked. After all, he could wait. He had been patient before, he could do it again.
“Unspecified.” Google turned his head at a call from Bim and walked away without waiting for Dark’s response. Probably a good thing, as Dark wanted nothing more right then than to rewrite the android’s “directive” in a…manual kind of way.
Before long, Wilford and Bim were drawing out plans across the studio floor with Google running numbers and Yandere throwing in the occasional suggestion. Eric watched from a distance, “um”-ing and attempting once or twice to suggest that some of their ideas might be a little too lethal, but to no avail.
They were so wrapped up in their plans that some time passed before Wilford looked up and then around the studio before asking, “Say, where did that Dark go? He should be helping us!”
“Disagreed,” Bim said. “Do you think a second flamethrower would be too obvious?”
“He left a while ago,” Eric said and looked away when Wilford gave him a sharp look. “I guess he, uh, had something he needed to say to Y/N? Only they walked by the door and he practically ran after them.”
“Logical error noted,” Google said and grunted when Wilford pushed past him and ran out of the studio.
“Yeah, like that,” Eric said weakly. “Is…is something wrong, do you think?”
“Eric Derekson’s statement is incorrect,” Google continued, scowling a little as he rubbed at the spot where Wilford’s hand hit him. “Y/N is currently in the infirmary with another Google unit, and they have not left the room since they arrived two hours ago.”
“Well, it looked like them,” Eric said, frowning.
“Maybe you just wanted to see them,” Yandere said. “I see my Senpai in all kinds of places. In the clouds. In my tea leaves. In the monitor connected to the secret camera I set up in his bedroom.”
“…What?”
Bim sighed at the flurry of notes and stood up, dusting off his pants as he checked his watch. “Is it that late? We’re going to be late for dinner, and I have a feeling Wilford won’t be coming back anytime soon from wherever he’s run off to. Come on, if we’re too late, Chef Iplier will rope us into helping wash the dishes.”
“Ugh, I had prune hands forever after last time,” Yandere said, leading the way to the studio door.
But Google beat them all to it and slammed the door shut before locking it on the inside.
“Uh, what’s the deal there, Googs?” Bim asked.
The ‘G’ glowed on his red shirt, but the android’s eyes were vacant as he spoke as if reading off from an internal memo.
“Lockdown has been initiated. No one is to leave their current area, and no one is to go anywhere alone or unsupervised. All egos are to remain in place for their own safety.”
---
Dark swore as he rounded the corner and found yet another empty hallway. He had seen you just feet ahead seconds ago, but there was no sign of anyone as he continued on, checking every door he walked past as if you had enough time to duck inside before he could catch up. Rain lashed against the windows and he realized that, at some point while he was in the studio, a storm had blown in. Right, the King of the Squirrels had said something about it earlier, hadn’t he? But now the wind shook the house as Dark made his way from room to room before stopping outside of one door in particular.
He knocked, but no answer came from inside your bedroom.
After a pause, he opened the door and peered inside. The room was dark and clearly empty, but he still turned on the light and walked in.
Your bed was undisturbed (how long had you been staying with Mark this time?) and there was nothing obviously out of place as Dark made his way to the closet door and checked inside, just to be on the safe side. A flash of lightning outside the house briefly added to the light in the room and Dark stared down at the empty closet floor.
Where did you hide, when you were at Mark’s house? Was the closet in your room there enough to block out the lightning and thunder and the memories they brought with them?
Dark shut the closet door a little harder than necessary, causing one of the pictures pinned to the board on the wall nearby to flutter. He paused, taking in the series of photographs of you with the other egos, and Mark, and the other friends you had made in the time since you came here. Below the board, a strange stuffed animal sat on top of the dresser, its wide eyes meeting Dark’s. Its species was a complete and total guess, although for some reason Dark hovered between duck or lion.
In its lap was a dried rose petal. It had faded since the time Dark gave the rose to you, the almost black hue more clearly a dark blue that tinted toward red on the outer layer. And, for some reason, there was a trace of green running straight through it.
Dark frowned at the sight of that third color and reached for the petal, but realized he had no time to think about that as thunder shook the house.
“Wilford,” he muttered and turned toward the door.
Only to stop short when he clearly heard a knocking sound, but not from the direction of either door. Following the persistent sound of the knock, Dark turned around and saw the mirror hanging beside your bed, and the figure standing there.
It looked like you, but when Dark met the eyes of the person in the mirror, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind who he was looking at.
The sound might have been inaudible through the glass, but their response was clear when the District Attorney saw they had his full, undivided attention:
“Finally.”
((End of Part 8. Thank you for reading! “Pits, Pendulums, Possibilities”... probably won’t be coming to a channel near you, for so many legal reasons.
And here’s a link to the next part, Part 9: Storm Warning.
Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))
#markiplier#fanfic#darkiplier#wilford warfstache#bim trimmer#googliplier#eric derekson#yandereplier#wkm district attorney#dark laughter#The storm is finally here#It's time to face your fear#Mirror mirror on the wall#Do you really think you can save them all?
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Oneshot in which Blitz embarrasses himself. It’s based on this story which showed up on my dash a few days ago and I highly encourage a read, though it obviously contains spoilers for this :) - written for @magehir to trigger her second hand embarrassment ♥♥ (Rating M, humour, ~1.3k words)
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“Elias, do you have some time?”
At the mention of his name, Blitz looks up from where he was previously occupied with demolishing the sandwich Rook shoved into his hands as soon as he noticed tomatoes on it – the young man being a picky eater definitely has its perks and already ensured Blitz wouldn’t go hungry despite lacking the time to organise his own lunch several times. Often enough, in fact, that he’s been contemplating whether Rook really dislikes this many vegetables or whether he simply needs an excuse to guarantee that Blitz doesn’t forget to eat. “I’ng eaking”, he mumbles a response directed at Jäger who’s hovering in the doorway to the canteen.
“Ah sure, don’t let me interrupt you. I can wait until you’re done.” He strolls in and joins the German-French table at which IQ and Twitch are wholly engrossed as much in their technical babble as in each other, leaving Doc, Rook and Blitz to their meals. While he finishes up the really quite excellent sandwich, Jäger jokes with Doc and even manages to coax out a smile out of the vaguely stressed-looking Frenchman, earning himself a grateful look from Rook who’s been attempting the same yet largely failed.
Eventually, Blitz downs his bottle of water and turns to his teammate expectantly. “Alright. What is it?”
Jäger looks momentarily confused before he remembers that he was the one seeking out the other German. “Oh! Yes. I wanted to know whether you could lend a helping hand to managing the recruits. I would, but I genuinely don’t want to.”
Blitz snorts – though he can’t say he blames Jäger for the sentiment, this year’s batch are far from the sharpest tools in the shed, yet they’re aptly described as tools nonetheless. The mechanic especially has no patience for anyone who doesn’t immediately understand (or rather mind reads) his quick half-explanations. Unfortunately, nearly everyone in Rainbow falls under this category and the recruits even more. Blitz vividly remembers Jäger’s presentation of his magpies which consisted of one extremely long as well as extremely specific explanation no one even had a chance to comprehend, before he pulled the pin and threw a live grenade into the small group of hopeful soon-to-be operators for a demonstration. Since none of them realised the ADS would save their lives, one started screaming, another jumped into a third recruit’s arms and a fourth almost fainted. Jäger wisely kept his distance after that.
“Let’s go then”, Blitz agrees and they get up together, casually make their way to the training grounds in Hereford. “Who’s in charge of them at the moment?”
“Dom”, comes the curt answer and Blitz winces in sympathy. Where Jäger has no patience for (perceived) incompetence, Bandit punishes according to boringness. He prides himself with his creativity and cunning and thus expects no less from their fledglings – or so he says. Blitz is convinced it’s nothing more than an excuse to torture them with practical jokes and make them afraid to sleep at night.
Speaking of which, even at this distance, Blitz can hear the first screams. Not very promising. “How many have cried so far?”
“Today? Two”, Jäger replies nonchalantly, quite obviously impervious to the outcries of pain echoing oddly over the grounds, “out of five. A third had to be persuaded to come out of the bathroom after he locked himself in. Dom’s having the time of his life.”
Apparently so, judging by the fact that the yells have not subsided, quite the opposite. “Which is probably why you asked me to help.”
The closer they get, the louder the wails. Jäger shrugs. “You don’t have anything important to do today and Mike’s gonna be furious if Dom injures any of them to the point where they can’t train anymore. I think it’s better if you keep an eye on him.”
Dear Lord, what is he doing to this poor recruit? Blitz grows increasingly concerned and Jäger’s words do nothing to appease him. “The hell is he doing? Testing interrogation techniques?”
Even though that’s exactly what it sounds like, Jäger shakes his head, indifferent. “Just some field training. To be honest, he’s probably gonna be relatively pleasant for the rest of the day so he can crank it up tomorrow again, so if you find something better to do, rather do it today.”
They’re entering the building now, the howling worryingly loud at this point and crassly at odds with Jäger’s relaxed attitude – Blitz has noticed his friend’s lack of empathy for anyone he thinks a moron, though he wouldn’t have guessed him this unconcerned about physical violence this harsh. There’s faint skin on skin slapping now, indicating Bandit is seriously beating someone up and Blitz inadvertently speeds up his steps to put an end to this sooner rather than later.
“It’s over here”, Jäger leads them to one of the rooms, the horrifying noises merely growing in volume the closer they get, and reaching distressing levels right as they step through the door.
Yet Blitz does not expect to be facing this.
It’s almost comical and reminds him of primary school: the recruits sitting in a half circle in front of Bandit who’s perched on a chair, seemingly content in merely recounting a story judging by everyone’s rapt expressions. There’s no abuse going on, nothing to explain the terrible noises.
Which… still haven’t ceased, mystifyingly enough.
Literally everyone is staring at the two newcomers now, Bandit with a deep frown probably due to the interruption and the recruits wholly bewildered for some reason. Blitz is still struggling to process what’s going on when Bandit pats down his pockets and murmurs: “It’s not mine this time.”
The small gesture is what does him in. Blitz’ eyes widen in utter panic, the shock so sudden that his knees go weak and his fingers fumble upon desperately clawing at his back pocket, nearly dropping his phone and yes, it’s his, though he has absolutely no clue how this happened. Regardless, the screen quite unambiguously shows two muscled guys going at it with enviable enthusiasm while producing a neverending series of throaty and unrestrained noises and Blitz wants to sink into the ground, evaporate, cease to exist this instant. Frantically, he stabs his phone with a fingertip until not only the sound is turned off but also the display yet the following silence is almost worse. His cheeks are on fire.
The recruits are still staring, visibly uncomfortable, while Bandit’s lips have stretched into the widest, meanest and most delighted grin Blitz has ever seen in his entire life.
Next to him, Jäger casually comments: “Nice cock.”
He wants to fucking die. “I gotta go”, he addresses no one in particular and turns on his heel, strides down the corridor and tries to shut out Bandit’s unapologetic hyena laugh trailing after him: gleeful and a touch hysteric. He almost misses the handle on the way out yet barely manages not to run into the door head first.
A few seconds later, Jäger has caught up with him, curiously watching him from the side. “You know that he’s gonna teach them phrases to embarrass you in German now, right?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it”, Blitz moans into his hands and hides his bright red face in shame.
“Also that looked fucking hot. Did you wank to it earlier?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, can you please just -”
“I’m just saying. Because if you did, then you should probably agree to a date with Julien.”
Blitz momentarily forgets about his mortification and turns to Jäger, aghast. He’s been Rook’s most vocal advocate, urging Blitz to give him a chance. “Are you… are you going to tell him if I don’t?”
And Jäger’s smirk is answer enough.
#rainbow six siege#blitz#jäger#bandit#blitz/rook#fanfic#oneshot#jäger didn't hear it cos this sort of thing goes on in his head all day#and blitz will have no peace for WEEKS#this is the day bandit turns religious cos he wants to thank the gods for this opportunity
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One secret less to keep
This was requested by @stayinyourlehane, who messaged me asking for this sequel to Secrets are the best when they no longer exist (aka Elise learns how to spell secret)
WC:2409
Warnings: Swearing, homophobia
“Dad!? Papa!? Is there anyone home? No, okay, I’ll finish the chocolate cake Louise gave me by myself.” Michael Howell-Lester entered the house he’d called home since he was 8 years old.
“Don’t you dare! I was planning on doing that before Dan gets home.” Phil, or papa to Mike, appeared in the doorway leading to the lounge. He was smiling, but something about the smile was off.
“Papa, are you okay? You look a bit off? Are you ill?” Mike knew he sounded like his dad, but couldn’t help it. His dad raised him this way. He approached Phil, who looked down at the 15 year old, and soon to be 16. The boy was tall for his age, but was still no match for his dads, only reaching 6’0.
“Oh, Little Bear you sound like your dad. I’m find, just read a sad article online about bees. Oh Dan texted me saying that he’d be home soon. Apparently he ‘gave up on doing any more work for those little monsters during spring break’. So I told him that it was his choice to start teaching Year twelve. How was your day? I thought Kennedy was coming today?”
That struck a nerve. Mike flinched and the grin on his face faded. “We had a bit of a… falling out today. There’s this new kid in class, and he sat with us in lunch. He seemed cool, but then Peter and Colin, that couple I told you about that I’m friends with, walked by in the direction of the lunch line. David, the new kid, pretended to gag and stage-whispered to me and Kennedy: “can they not do it in public. It’s disgusting and shouldn’t be allowed. Can you believe gays are actually allowed to have children?” I was about to say something when Kennedy said something that I’d never thought she’d say. “Yeah, it’s so wrong.” At this point I just stood up and left to sit with Peter and Colin. Hey didn’t ask, but the majority of the lunch room had heard what had been said and they kind of just stared. Then after school I approached Kennedy to ask her what it was about, but I found her with Dave who was loudly talking about how ‘homos shouldn’t be allowed to have the same civil rights as the rest.’ And she just stood there smiling. I pulled her aside, and asked what was going on. And she answered “get away from me, you unnatural shit.” That’s why she not here right now.”
“Oh Bear.” Phil took the boy into his arms, hugging him tightly, as if to protect him from the world.
“Can we eat chocolate cake now?” Mike asked in a small voice.
“Yes, of course. Also we have birthday plans to discuss.”
They were about to start eating when a voice behind them rang out. “You weren’t going to start on that cake without me, were you?”
Dan looked at his son and husband, looking up from the cake guilty, Phil with a bit of chocolate icing on his upper lip. Dan couldn’t help but smile, then he was nearly knocked over by a Shiba Inu from behind. Daenerys wanted some attention (and food) and with the entire family in one room she knew those things were guaranteed.
“It’s not what it looks like. We were testing the cake for poison. Totally not eating it while you weren’t here.” Phil smiled, standing up and walking to his husband. “Do you forgive us, Bear?” he pouted for effect and Dan laughed. He kissed Phil’s pout away, and licked up the chocolate icing at the same time.
“Sure, only if I get a piece too. Oh Mike, can you get the green envelope from Papa’s desk. It has to do with your birthday.”
Mike left the room, and Phil faced Dan. “I thought she said she never wanted contact again. What changed?"
Dan sighed, contemplating for a few seconds before answering. “She was an only child, and in her family there’s this tradition that the first born inherits some old heirloom. She didn’t have any cousins either, so Mike is the only child in line for the inheritance. She has to give it to him.”
They stood in silence for a few seconds, until Mike returned with the envelope in his hand. He handed it to Dan, clearly curious as to what this letter contained.
“Mike, we… no I need to tell you something. I didn’t want to tell you until you are 18, because then I’ll have no legal authority over you anymore. I’ll explain it all I promise. But please, sit down.”
Mike, still curious took a seat and pulled his plate of cake towards himself, whilst Daenerys laid her head in his lap.
“I think you remember her, because you were 5 when she left, but your mother and I divorced then. It hadn’t been going well between us for a while, and she thought my job as teacher was too low to be married to a lawyer. She was having an affair with one of her co-workers, and she told me. We had to go to a judge to settle for the arrangement. She wanted to keep the house and you, but the judge decided that she got the house and I would get custody of you. She would pay child support every month. I couldn’t find a house on such short notice and with my salary, so Phil was my saving grace once more, and let us live with him. You probably remember the rest of that. We fell in love, got married and raised you. But before we got together, I was saving money to buy an apartment I had found. I was counting on the next child support deposit before I could pay the first rent. The child support didn’t come, and Phil called the office for me to ask what happened. They promised to call me when they had more information. So when I got the call I wasn’t prepared for what they were going to tell me. They told me that Kate, your mother, had moved to America and had given up her parental rights over you. She didn’t want anything to do with us. It also meant I would no longer receive child support and couldn’t afford to buy a house. Mainly, I had no idea how to tell a five year old that his mum wanted nothing to do with him without destroying him. So I kept it to myself. Phil knew and actually gave me the idea to tell you on your 18th birthday, when I’d no longer have authority over you, and you could choose for yourself if you wanted to do anything with the information.”
Dan paused. Mike sat in silence for a few minutes, until he opened his mouth. “Then why are you telling me now? I really do appreciate it, but what changed? Is she coming to my birthday? I don’t want that!” he seemed panicked now and Phil rushed to comfort him.
“No. I won’t allow her in here. She caused harm enough in this family. She was at our wedding, and she started telling Dan off for the way we were raising you. My brother had to escort her out. I’ve never seen Martyn so angry, not even when I told Caroline about his secret doll collection. So no, she won’t get in on your birthday if it’s up to me.”
“But she sent me a letter. It also contained letters for you. One was written by Kate but the other one looked really old. We didn’t open them, but Kate instructed me to give them to you a week before your 16th birthday, so here you are.”
Dan handed his son the letters. Mike read them both carefully, whilst Dan and Phil chatted, giving the boy some time to process it all. He was nearing the end of the second letter, with furrowed brows when the doorbell rang. Phil stood up and went to open the door. Mike was still looking down at the old letter.
TUQH HUBQJYLU,
YV OEK MUHU QRBU JE TUSETU JXYI OEK QHU JXU VYHIJ IYDSU Y IJQHJUT XQDTYDW TEMD JXYI YDXUHYJUT IUSHUJ. Y QC JXU VEKDTUH EV JXU ULUHIED DQJYEDQB RQDA. JETQO, Y MHYJU CO MYBB, UNQSJBO JMUDJO-VEKH XEKHI RUVEHU JXU TESJEHI MYBB UDT CO BYVU. WE JE JXU DUQHUIJ ULUHIED DQJYEDQB RQDA, QDT QIA VEH JXU XUQT EV JXU RQDA. IXEM JXUC JXYI BUJJUH, QDT JXUO MYBB ADEM MXQJ JE TE.
HUCUCRUH, ULUD JXEKWX YJ CYWXJ DEJ RU OEKH DQCU QDOCEHU, ULUHIED XEBTI FEMUH QCEDW ULUHOEDU. OEK XQLU WHUQJ FEJUDJYQB.
SEHDUBYKI MQBJ ULUHIED
It sounded like complete gibberish, but Mike already had an idea what it was. Something stirred in his mind, an article he’d found when he did an essay about Julius Caesar for history. He was about to take out his phone to test his theory when Phil came back to the kitchen. “Mike, Kennedy wants to talk to you.”
---
Later, Mike told his dads what had transpired between the once-best friends on their doorstep. Dan was enraged that is ‘little boy’ had had to go through that, but still praised him for not accepting her apology. She’d said that ‘she was just joking’ but Mike didn’t think he could ever look the girl in the eye again.
So now, on the night before his 16th birthday, he was sat at his desk, staring at the paper in front of him.
Dear relative,
If you were able to decode this you are the first since I started handing down this inherited secret. I am the founder of the Everson National Bank. Today, I write my will, exactly twenty-four hours before the doctors will end my life. Go to the nearest Everson National Bank, and ask for the head of the bank. Show them this letter, and they will know what to do.
Remember, even though it might not be your name anymore, Everson holds power among everyone. You have great potential.
Cornelius Walt Everson
He jumped up and sprinted down the stairs, to his dad, who was cooking dinner. It was an early dinner, but Phil had his radio show tonight, so this was a normal occurrence.
“Dad! How long do we have until dinner is ready?! And do you think Everson Bank is stilled opened?”
Dan looked utterly confused as he answered the questions. “About half an hour. And that bank is open till 7, why.”
But the teenager just thanked him and ran off to find Phil. He found the man in his office, gathering papers for his radio show. “Papa, can you drive me to the nearest Everson Bank? It has to do with the letter. Hurry, we have half an hour.”
Phil let himself be pulled to the car by his son, not really questioning it. He was used to it, the spontaneous actions. Dan did the same when he was excited for something.
They arrived at the bank, and Mike sprinted up the stairs, Phil following at a slower pace. The bank was nearing its closing moments, and there were no civilians except the people behind the desks.
Mike walked up to a desk where a fairly young man sat. He approached and started talking, not even letting the man talk.
“Hello, I need to speak to the head of this bank. The name is Everson.”
‘Brandon’ as his nametag read, looked him in the eyes, “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but if you call them and say ‘‘Everson’ they will let me in regardless.”
Brandon picked up the phone and dialled a number. Meanwhile Phil scolded Mike for being rude. “You could have asked instead of demand to see them.”
Brandon cleared his throat. “Ms. Vanderwaal will meet you here.”
Phil had to wait outside while Mike talked to Ms. Vanderwaal. Brandon was being a bit too friendly, so Phil took out his phone and started texting Dan to pass the time. Mike reappeared not too long after, and they returned home. It wasn’t until they were almost finished with their dinner that Mike spoke about it again.
“I have inherited the entire fortune of my family, which is safely kept on a special bank account my great-grandfather set up when he opened the bank.”
Dan nearly choked on his water, Phil dropped his fork, and Daenerys whined as if she knew what he’d just said. Mike continued,
“I want to put part of the money away for university, and keep a part for other things. But I also want to give you two a part of it. So I’ve decided to split the money in three parts. One part will go to you, one part will be put away for future, and I’ll see what I’ll do with the third part. And you can’t refuse a gift, so no protests.”
It ended the conversation effectively.
---
Just when Mike was opening the present from his grandparents, the doorbell rang. Phil looked around the room, counting the guests. Everyone who confirmed that they could come, was there. Who could possibly be there?
The answer became clear when he opened the door.
“What are you doing here?” the venom nearly dripped from his words.
“Can’t I visit my son on his sixteenth birthday?” Kate’s smile looked faker than her tan.
“He isn’t your son. You gave up that right when he was 5, remember. Because I do. I had to help Dan. I had to clean up the wreckage you left behind.”
Just as Kate was about to speak, Mike appeared in the hallway next to his papa.
“Papa, who is this?”
“This is the woman who gave birth to you, Mike.” Mike backed away from the door, almost frightened at the sight he was seeing.
“Michael, my son. I heard you managed to unravel the mystery of our family. I gave birth to you, don’t you think I deserve a bit of it?”
Mike’s fear turned to rage, and he stepped forward again. “The only thing I’d give you is some spare change to take the bus to ‘get the fuck away from me and my family’. You were never my mother and never will be. Have a terrible day, goodbye.”
He slammed the door in the woman’s face. He turned to Phil and smiled. “Want a piece of citrus cake?”
--------
Fin.
thanks for reading
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I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (’Eight’ Part 5)
A/N: After a long long long break I’m back Thank you for the flooding messages about the ‘Eight’ Series, I can’t wait to finish it off even better than it started. Love you all and I’m incredibly sorry for the long ass wait.
THIS IS AN AU SERIES SO JUST KEEP THAT IN MIND PLEASE!!! This is part five
Characters; reader(Kyra), Liam, Hayden, malia, kira, lydia, scott, theo, alison, carter white, stiles, mason,
(told in mixed POV’s)
word count: 1,709
pairing: Liam Dunbar x reader(Kyra) Liam x hayden (reader)kyra x carter
Other Parts to the Series
part one part two part three part four
Playlist
Listen to I Don’t Wanna Live Forever by Zayn Malik and Taylor Swif when reading this part. The link is on the playlist page, link is literally directly above this. I do not own the Lyrics nor the song. I also do not own any characters other than the new ones by names that are not involved in Teen Wolf, aka Kyra, Gavin etc.
How I picture Kyra in the gif below!! (after she dyes her hair lmao spoiler)
(LYDIA POV)
7 Days after Kyra left.
I didn’t know what it was that was off, but something was definitely not right. Like the universe shifted and now we were left slightly on an angle as we stood, basically doing that MJ dance move where he almost touches the floor but not really. But the scariest thing about it was as if no one else noticed but me. I sat in my room for six days, no contact with anyone, it was worse than when Jackson left, Kyra was my best friend, she was there with me when Alison died. I think that’s what made us closer, the simplicity of two girls mourning the untimely death of their friend. Ever since we were inseparable, sure we were close with Malia and the other Kira too but when it came to it hands down I would always choose Kyra over the other two, not to sound rude or anything.
I laid in the same spot on my bed for three hours on the seventh day, sure the others continuously attempted to reach out to me but it wasn’t important, what mattered was I had no contact from Kyra which probably tore me apart the most. I vaguely had the memory of screaming at the top of my lungs while Stiles held me back when Scott broke the news to us. “Where is she.” I had wailed repeatedly, then cried in Stiles’ arms as everyone looked on, including a pissed off and or jealous Malia. I didn’t care though, my best friend had died and the only girl to relate to me, who soon became even closer to me than Alison ever was, had abandoned me too. Now I was almost alone, Malia could fuck off, I needed anything but her scorn. As I was laying in my cocoon of tangled sheets, blankets and pillows, I heard the front door opened, and I knew immediately it was not my parents, but in all honesty I wasn’t alarmed, how was I to freak out when I couldn’t fee, just an empty numbness. “Lydia we’re coming up.” That was Stiles voice, why was Stiles here? Who was we? What was going on? I so badly wanted to yell at them to leave, but when I tried no sound came out. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs should’ve caused me to get out of bed, but I didn’t move, I wouldn’t. I stared straight at the ceiling, not caring to glance at the group of people crowding my bed, I knew who was there without even looking, and I could guarantee Kyra wasn’t there. “Hey Lydia.” Kira’s voice broke through to me, I ached to leap up and into her arms but didn’t dare. Another voice this time, “You need to get up, you can’t do this it’s unhealthy and unneeded.” The way she said it was smug and condescending and created a snapping feeling within me, like I was a glowstick and the glowing chemicals were miking and creating something else that ripped through my body, who did she think she was? I sat up, pin straight, and turned to look directly at Hayden, the bitch who did NOT belong in this pack. I hated her with a seething rage, she did this. “You know what you need to do Hayden? You need to get out of our lives and cut the superior and smug tone...bitch” I sneered, making sure I murmured the last part, “Lyds don’t-”
“No Stiles, don’t you dare ‘Lyds’ me. She has no right to be here, she’s not even dating anyone in the pack or friends with us, no one here turned her so why? Why is she here, give me one good reason why I should be all warm and fuzzy towards her. Oh, that’s right, you can’t give me a reason because they’re are none,” I cut him off, it felt so good to take my anger out on her. I turned towards Liam this time, “and if it weren’t for the snake you call ‘Hayden’ or ‘baby’ or whatever you call IT Kyra wouldn’t be GONE RIGHT NOW. SHE BROUGHT THEO TO SCOTTS HOUSE, SHE GOT THEO NEAR KYRA WHO HE BIT, OH AND SHE ALSO FUCKED THEO SO HAVE FUN WITH OUR ENEMIES SLOPPY SECONDS.” I began screaming, if you couldn’t exactly tell I wasn’t having the greatest period of my life. I felt the bed dip slightly and realized Stiles had sat down beside me, a dumbfounded look on his face. “Well she’s not wrong.” He muttered. I blew a stray piece of red hair out of my face that had fallen when I sat up but was too distracted to fix it and glared at Hayden, she looked shell shocked.
“You slept with Theo?” Liam took a step back, his face showing clear disgust and betrayal. “How did you know that?” Stiles whispered to me, he looked confused, but when did Stiles not look confused. “I honestly just threw that one in to mix things up.” I murmured back, watching the scene unfold in front of me. “I-I......” She looked at me with hatred and confusion, basically saying ‘How the fuck did she know that?’ “Well you hit the nail right on the head.” He choked back a laugh, but covered it up with a cough. “UGH.” Hayden shrieked as she stormed out of the room and stomped down the stairs, we all waited in silence but the door slam never came. “Did she leave the door open?” Mason broke the silence several minutes with the question we were all secretly pondering about. I rolled my eyes and flung myself onto my back. “I wish Kyra was here.” I whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.
(KYRA POV)
I was running, I had an idea as to where I was heading, but not completely. Yeah, I obviously knew the place-ish seeing as I had gotten on a plane going to Seattle, Washington. The hardest part of this was I had no one, well, not no one but someone I couldn’t say I knew well. Carter White, tall, brooding and handsome, the boy I’d grew up with that was two years older and constantly invited me out to stay with him. The boy I loathed up until summer before ninth grade due to his constant teasing, even if my mother had continuously scolded me about being ‘nice because he has a crush’. But I’ve never been able to do ‘Nice’ with Carter White. He was my safety net, the one thing I could use to help me in this situation, and conveniently he also was a wolf, he promised to pick me up at the airport an take me to his hometown, somewhere in between Seattle and Portland, the name was unmemorable.
Cc:
Subject: Liar
Liam,
I read your email and I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner. I agree with you, I hate me and you should too. I did not do this in ‘The heat of the moment’, I’ve wanted to leave for a while, and if you even did care you would know that. Theres more to this story than me running due to simple rejection or becoming a wolf, sure it added to tipping me over the edge but there’s so much more. I could lie and say your recent email planted a seed of doubt about my ‘heat of the moment run away’ but that’s all it would be, a lie. I wont be contacting you for a while, so I guess I could say don’t wait up.
Kyra.
As I hit send I glanced up from my phone, but there was still no sign of Carter. If I guessed correctly I had about five minutes before he was to notice me if he was in fact lingering around, enough time to sort out my thoughts and build up a few walls.
“Kyra?” I spun around, mostly in shock, my judgement of timing was off, he appeared out of nowhere half a second after those thoughts floated through my mind. I didn’t immediately recognize him, he looked a few years older and incredibly attractive. Dark hair flipped out from under his baseball cap, he was all dark rugged lines and contours, beautiful but not beautiful enough to be called handsome, more so extremely hot. As I peered into his features I recognized Carter White, the same liquid black eyes that glinted with danger and seemed to suck you in as they bore into you, the chiseled jaw and the full pouty lips. “Carter.” I mustered a smile as his eyes took in my appearance, I felt like I was under a microscope and I so badly wanted to squirm. “Well, well, well. The little squid’s all grown up.” He smirked as picked up my bags. I gawked at his muscles bulging out of his black fitted v neck tee as he did so, “Don’t call me that Carter.” I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my eyes off of him, the task growing harder and harder by the second. “Sorry Angel.” He smirked. Angel. I liked that, especially from his mouth. Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. Just friends Kyra, remember that. “’Angel’?” I raised a brow as I tugged a corner of my lip up, a look I’d practiced for Liam many-a-time in the mirror for just under a year. I should’ve known I had more than friendly feelings for him a long time ago. I needed to forget Liam. “What else would I call a girl like you.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, could he get any cheesier.
My phone made a dinging sound as we neared the exit doors and I paused, looking at the screen to see I had a new email from Liam. “Someone important?” I heard Carter ask, I glanced up and met his eyes boring into me, the black so enchanting and pulling me closer to him. I wanted him. FRIENDS. “No.” I murmured as I shut my phone off and tucked it into my back pocket, shoving the doors open. Deep down I realized it was the truth, Liam was no longer of importance if I wanted to get out all the way.
#teen wolf#teen wolf fan fic#teen wolf fan fiction#dylan sprayberry#dylan sprayberry imagine#dylan sprayberry x reader#liam dunbar x reader#liam dunbar#liam dunbar x reader imagine#liam dunbar imagine#Kyra fan fic#Scott McCall#scott mccall imagine#scott mccall x reader#scott mccall x reader imagine#Stiles#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinksi imagine#stiles x reader imagine#stiles x reader#stiles stilinski x reader#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural#Supernatural Fan Fiction#supernatural fandom#dean x reader#sam and dean#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester imagine
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Audubon's Oriole & South Texas
Despite the cold, frigid beauty of Minnesota, Texas was calling my name. It was time to unthaw and pick up the birds I had missed during my first visit to the Lone Star State.
I left Duluth and drove down to Clear Lake, Iowa where a rare Yellow-billed loon had been reported. I arrived to be greeted by a nice winter chill and biting breeze. As I set up my scope at Clear Lake State Park, I was approached by a kind woman who invited me to bird with her group closer to the visitor's center and out of the wind. She introduced herself as Carolyn Fischer. I couldn't understand why that name seemed familiar until she informed me that she was the person who had originally found and reported the loon! I must've seen her name mentioned on the ABA rare bird alert. She had even better pictures on her phone than the ones posted on the ABA report, confirming that it was indeed a Yellow-billed Loon and not some distorted digiscoped photo of a Common Loon. We spent the day birding around the lake, but no Yellow-billed Loon was seen.
I usually don't tell other people that I'm attempting a big year, mostly because I don't want to give anyone the impression even for a second that I might be a good birder or that I know what the hell I'm doing. But I told Carolyn and I'm glad I did. As we went our separate ways, she asked me if I was warm enough, gave me a hug and told me she admired what I am doing. It's moments like these-- moments where people I hardly know go out of their way to be so kind-- that help keep me going. I camped near the lake, and despite the freezing temperatures, I felt warm the whole night.
From Iowa, I went to Nebraska as I considered the best way to navigate down south and to get a tire patched. I took this opportunity to meet a long-time friend who lives near Omaha. Robb and I had been internet friends since 2010 and although we were meeting for the first time, it felt as though we were being reunited. I took the truck in the next day and after waiting for many hours, they told me the tire looked good and sent me on my way.
I beelined it from Omaha to Mississippi, making a short pit-stop in Penn-Sylvania Prairie in Missouri for a Smith's Longspur. As I walked through the prairie, it was quiet and calm in a way I had never experienced. It was hauntingly lonely and thrillingly freeing with no one around as far as I could see. The birds jumped up through the grass, reminding me of the way the grasshoppers in the Arizona summer fling themselves from the pathways away from your feet.
Almost as soon as I crossed the state line from Arkansas to Mississippi, I was greeted by the balmy southern humidity. Back in Biloxi for the second time this year, I was able to see Mississippi's first state record of a Smooth-billed Ani!
From Biloxi, I went west to New Orleans. I was magically able to get ahold of my difficult-to-find (more difficult than a rare bird!) cousin Ashley again. While I waited for her to get out of work, I birded the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway in hopes of finding at least one of the Brown Boobies that had been reported around the lake. The Causeway is the largest bridge over water in the world, with two parallel bridges going north and south about 24 miles long. The northbound and southbound bridges have a few crossovers meant for emergency use only. These crossovers are not meant for watching birds, as I was kindly informed by a uniformed officer.
I met up with Ashley who serendipitously had an extra ticket to see the band Grizzly Bear. We had a great night (maybe too great) and the next morning I tried again for the Boobies. I noticed that the two of the crossovers now had police cars parked, either waiting to catch speeders or help those with an actual emergency, but there were two empty ones so I could turn around and change direction without having to repay the toll. I drove for what seemed like forever up and down the causeway, when I finally found one Brown Booby at mile marker 16. There was no way for me to stop, but I'm sure I managed to frustrate the drivers behind me as I drove slowly to watch the Booby fly out of sight.
I tried for Yellow Rails on my way out of Louisiana, and again at Anahuac when I arrived in Texas, but was disappointed. I found out about the Rice and Yellow Rail festival (Yellow Rail almost guaranteed!) about two days too late.
I drove through Texas the opposite direction from my very first visit, going from east to west. Driving through Houston to Aransas National Wildlife Refuge made real the photos and videos I had seen just a few months prior depicting the mark Hurricane Harvey had left on the area. The Aransas NWR visitors center was closed indefinitely due to the damage, but the refuge was still open to visitors.
The first time I visited Aransas was in April. At that time, I had been on the road for a month and I was still processing how exactly to navigate this journey on my own. I was struggling with learning how to be a better birder, with learning how to be self-sufficient, and with my anxiety. Aransas showed me Whooping Cranes for the first time in my life. These Cranes represented a story of fragile beauty, and I felt angry at my own species for letting these birds get so close to extinction. I remember trying to process all these emotions while sitting under Aransas' five hundred year old oak tree, staring at the Gulf of Mexico. I remember taking a deep breath and feeling so small by comparison to the sea, the tree, and the evolutionary history of the creatures of earth. And despite the chaos, I felt at peace.
I had to visit the tree again. As I rounded the corner, noticing the other fallen oaks, I hoped with all my might it was still standing. And although the mustang vines covering the tree had been damaged, the old oak still stood. I sat like I did in April and I took a deep breath. Staring out at the sea again, surrounded by the damage of an unthinkably powerful hurricane, I thought about the role humans play in the ecological community. I wonder if we can save ourselves the way we saved the cranes.
I met up with a fellow female solo traveler I had met in North Carolina. We got Tex Mex in her hometown of Corpus Christi and reminisced on our separate journeys. Afterwards, I set up camp on Padre Island National Seashore and fell asleep to the sound of the waves breaking about thirty feet away.
Time birding in South Texas is always well spent. To me, it's paradise. I love the bright and vibrant Green Jays, the clamoring of the Chachalacas, and the almost overwhelming biodiversity. I was finally able to see Altamira Orioles and Clay-colored Thrushes-- two fairly common Rio Grande Valley birds that somehow eluded me on my first trip. I spent just over a week in the RGV and was rewarded with Sprague's' Pipit, and White-collared Seedeater fairly easily.
The Tamaulipas Crow is a Mexican native making in a rare return to South Texas for the time being, and a few had been spotted hanging out at the Brownsville Landfill. There is a strange symbiosis between the landfill and birders-- the Brownsville Sanitary Landfill allows birders into the dump to hang out and watch birds. I'm sure the sanitation department doesn't fully understand why people want to hang out there, and I'm not sure I understand why the dump lets people hang out there. To me it seems like a lawsuit waiting to happen, but then again this is Texas and not California.
I arrived late one afternoon and hung around until sunset with no views of the crow. On the second morning, just after sunrise, I arrived to see birders up on the hill waving me down. I had just driven past the Tamaulipas Crow! I parked as safely as I could away from the garbage trucks and plow-tractors and snagged a few photos.
Although my trip to the RGV was highly successful, it was not without its frustrations. It took five separate attempts for me to see a Tropical Parula. I also spent many hours on several beautiful, clear days trying to turn hawks into Hook-billed Kites but my willpower alone could not do the trick. I tried to chase a reported Rose-breasted Becard to make up for the one I missed in AZ. I hoped for late Groove-billed Ani in Harlingen but no luck there either. And although it would've been an extremely lucky find, I still kept my eye out for Red-billed Pigeons.
The highlight of this South Texas trip was the secretive Audubon's Oriole- a bird whose northernmost range extends slightly into South Texas. On my second to last day in the valley, I traveled an hour northwest to Salineño, a spot right next to the Rio Grande known to attract the Audubon's. I spent a few hours waiting at the feeders with a birder named Mike. We watched the Green Jays and the Kiskadees mill around. An occasional Sharp-shinned Hawk would fly in to try to snag a Red-winged Blackbird and stir things up. As we watched, Mike and I talked about big year birders, about being traveling bird bums, and about listing as a hobby. Although I didn't get the Audubon's that day, it was an extremely rewarding experience.
I drove back to my airbnb in McAllen for the night and in the morning I tried again for the Audubon's, but this time a little closer. Birders I had met at the landfill told me they had seen an Audubon's Oriole hanging around the National Butterfly Center just a few miles down the road from where I was staying. I had visited there once before and decided to give it one more shot!
When I arrived, another birder told me he had seen the Audubon's Oriole the day prior, and it was hanging around with an Altamira Oriole. I hiked all around the property, looking at butterflies and although I didn't know their names I admired them all the same. I sat by the bird feeder station and watched the grackles and house sparrows duke it out over scattered seed. All of a sudden there was a flash of orange-- an Altamira Oriole! My heart started racing. Maybe the Audubon's is close by! I waited patiently and watched the Altamira fly north along the path. I quietly and slowly followed, but lost it. I stood in silence for a second then I heard an Oriole calling. It sounded more forlorn than an Altamira. I turned the corner and there it was, picking at the old fruit that was set out to attract butterflies! It stood still long enough for a photo and I was ecstatic. I watched it for a bit as it was following two Altamira Orioles around the gardens. Occasionally one of the Altamira's would try to chase it off and the Audubon would give a sad-sounding call. I know this is anthropomorphism, but I wanted to tell the Altamira to knock it off, leave the poor guy alone! But birds will be birds.
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7 Things I'm Totally Obsessed with This Month (August 2017 Edition)
These are thoughts, the artwork, the news stories, the tools, the food, the conversations, and whatever else we just can't get out of our heads this month.
1. The Astronomical Event: The 2017 Solar Eclipse
A lot of people are talking about this today. Consider me among them. My house is only 45 minutes from the "path of totality," which means two things - 1) the epicenter of the event is extremely physically close and accessible (with planning) and 2) what I would have seen from my front yard is 99.3% of the real deal. Is that good enough?
In most situations, I'd say — yeah, 99.3% is as much as you can ask for. And you can avoid the crowds, the hassles, and the traffic jams. But, in this case, that .7% makes all the difference.
So, we headed out on Sunday, to Madras, Oregon, the premier place identified by experts to see the eclipse. (Dead center in the path of totality, and the least chance of clouds or other weather to obscure the sky.) Madras, where NASA itself decided to host its event. Madras, where teams of scientists from all over the the world set up their equipment to monitor the event.
Madras, which is accessible only by two-lane mountain pass state routes that were guaranteed to clog with traffic.
I'll share the details with you if you want. Email me. Yes, it was crowded, but not unbearably. Yes, I stood in line for an hour to use the filthiest portable bathroom I've ever been in. Yes, the traffic on the way out was truly ridiculous (though we arrived there with no problems). Yes, the volunteers running the thing had no idea what they were doing. Yes, my neck still hurts from sleeping in the car.
But — and I have no other way of saying it — it was completely amazing and totally worth every, dust-covered second. The people their became a real community, they helped each other out, they bonded, they shared their supplies, telescopes, and food and water. I had a completely enjoyable hour long conversation while waiting for that bathroom with folks from all over the west. And. the. moon. covered. up. the. sun. entirely. for. more. than. two. minutes.
It came. Just like they said it would. The light was insane. The shadows unreal. I stared directly at the sun at 10:20 in the morning, and it was among the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
The older I get, the more I struggle with the calculus about going to big, crowded events. Is that concert really worth $50 a ticket, plus fees? Do I really want to stand on my feet for six hours through two opening bands and not have the headliners start until after 11:00pm, meaning I don't get to bed until at least one or two on a work night?
But, when I go. I never regret it. I don't remember the traffic jams. I remember the event that I signed up to see. The eclipse reminded me that when I say yes, I always think it's worth it.
Photo: Andy Whale/Courtesy of Faber & Faber
2. The Interview: Billy Bragg in conversation with Terry Gross
Here's my take on Billy Bragg before listening to this: I like him. He's really important to a certain lineage of roots music that I'm particularly interested in. I'm glad he's out there. He's had a thirty-plus year career and I'm familiar with some of his music, but I certainly haven't heard most of his catalog.
Here's my take on Billy Bragg after listening to this: Billy Bragg is the most fascinating, well-spoken musician of all time, and I should listen to him non-stop.
I exaggerate, but just a bit. The truth is: this is a great forty-five minute conversation. Bragg is incredibly evocative with his language, but always approachable and easy to listen to. Terry Gross is obviously charmed by him, and she's at her best when she lets her guard down a bit, and allows herself to become a bit giddy.
Worth a listen, even if your not a huge fan of either Fresh Air or Billy Bragg. It's simply great audio, period.
3. The Film: Beatriz at Dinner
This thing truly blew me away. It's one of the most interesting movies I've seen this year.
Not a line in this movie is wasted. There's so much control present in the filmmaking here. Everything is intentional, purposeful, and contributes to the desired tone. Every actor delivers every single line exactly the way they should. Hayek and Lithgow get the biggest lines, but Connie Britton and Amy Landecker manage to pull up both a creepy/disgusting and yet sympathetic vibe that totally blew me away.
The reviews seem to think it's "pretty good," though users don't seem to give it as high praise of the critics. It might be because it was released the same year as "Get Out" They're great companion pieces, for sure.
Maybe it's because I've seen all of Miguel Arteta's previous movies, and liked them. I think Mike White is a particularly interesting screenwriter. Maybe it's because I was on a really nice date night with my wife, on our first evening out alone after having had house guests for nearly a month. It might have even been the two particularly good Oregon beers I sipped during the run time. But I really, really loved this as a piece of filmmaking, and an avenue for serious performers to be great. I think you should see it too.
Honorable mention: I watched Nocturnal Animals last night. I think it's pretty great, and worth a watch. It's streaming now on HBO if you have access.
4. The Recipe: Big's Smoked Chicken
This is the dish I have been craving all summer. I made it early in the season, and many times since, and I'm certain it will become a go-to when having friends over for a grill night.
It's from a local Portland restaurant, that I have not been to, because, tragically, the building that housed it experienced an electrical fire a riff on Alabama-style barbecue chicken, meaning it comes with a white, mayo-based sauce which sounds crazy, but it amazing as it caramelizes and blackens over high heat at the last minute. (Mayo, is, basically just oil and eggs, so not that nuts.) I've made some adjustments to make it simpler to prepare on the regular in smaller batches. I'll use whatever fruitwood or hickory smoking woods I have on hand. I don't always do the Fresno pepper sauce, though I do like it, and sometimes I'll just brine or use a simpler rub to make it happen faster.
But - it's good stuff, and anyone who eats meat will love this, we promise. Throw in a couple extra thighs or leg quarters to make sure you have plenty of leftovers to go with the sauce.
5. The Podcast: Slate's Hit Parade
Here's why Hit Parade from Chris Molanphy is my podcast of summer: it's the exact right length. It gives you only as much details as you need to dig deep and understand what's happening, and spares you unnecessary details.
What is it? It's a look at music chart history, and an exploration of the cultural context that surround pop music hits: four, so far.
Here's what I don't like about it: it's hard to find. Technically, I think it lives in Slate's Culture Gabfest feed once a month, but it doesn't show up in my SlatePlus version, so I have to remember to look for it and manually track it down. It's worth it, but the info here is good enough to warrant its own URL.
Here are the episodes so far. Please start in order, even though you don't think you can listen to forty minutes on UB40. You can.
6. The Chart: The Ultimate Single Malt Scotch Flavor Map
I love summer, like a lot. But when the weather starts to crisp and the days shorten a bit, I'll be plenty okay. I have my fall traditions, but the one I'm looking forward to the most is my annual indulgence bottle of whiskey purchase.
I actually don't spend much on liquor. People think I'm some connesieur, but I think I really just have an interest in learning. I like higher end stuff, but I really don't drink enough to justify the spending. I have a few sub $25 staples that I keep around, and that's usually it.
But each October, I do treat myself to one $80 or $100 bottle to enjoy as the leaves change, and before the craziness of the holidays hit, and this graphic on Vinepair totally helps me understand why I like what I do. You better believe I'll be consulting it before I bust out the credit card. (Considering that Talisker 18...but it goes for $165 here. Maybe I should see if I can find a glass first. Anyone have any experience with it?)
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7. The Good for You Habit: Stretching
I'm hesitant to give any sort of medical advice here, but I do want to share: this month, I have visited the chiropractor for the first time. I wanted to learn proper stretching technique to tackle specific issues, and its completely changed my life. I had no idea how few of my muscles I was using to support my back, and how limited the two activities I do most - road biking and working at a desk - keep me cramped up from the top of my head to the base of my feet.
If you've never been, and your health insurance will make it affordable, I really do encourage you to try it. It's not just about cracking and adjusting, it's about learning lifestyle changes to keep you flexible for as long into life as possible. I'm sold.
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