#the drive was terrible we had like an hour of traffic because it was a holiday weekend and we completely forgot

[learn-and-accept]

I'm back in the place I grew up for the first time since moving 6 months ago and it is so fucking weird and I have a lot of feelings

[shujohajohaminnie]

Pink Pandas

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, Fluffy 

Word Count: 3071

Summary: What happens when you come to find out the man you’ve had a crush on for the longest time also shares those same feelings for you? 

Afab!reader, Profanity, Pet names(Baby) Public sex kink, Raw sex (Wrap it before you tap it).

Surprise at the end

You sighed turning yet again in the bed that felt twenty times bigger. You touched his side confirming his absence. Reluctantly you got off the bed making your way out of your shared bedroom. Immediately opening the door you were exposed to the scene of the boys all sleeping on your couch and living room floor. Even with them having their own dorms they were still usually over at your place. You fixed the blanket to cover a shivering I.N’s body before you made your way to the room he spent most of his time in. Of course, he was there, the computer illuminated his face in the very dark room, one headphone on, to be on high alert just in case you or the kids needed him, but even then all of his attention was on the screen. 

“Chris?” Nothing, he was ‘in the zone’ like he’d call it. “Chan?” You walked towards him tapping his shoulder. He gasped jumping in his seat, his hand grasping his chest as he turned to look at you completely in shock. Yeah, this was the man who was going to defend you against harm. “Baby?” he whispered walking past you to turn on the studio light. “What are you doing up” “I can’t sleep” You whispered leaning your head on his chest. He laughed wrapping his arms around you. “Why not” “I can’t sleep if you're not in bed with me” “I know I know baby, but I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind so I figured I’d try to distract myself with some song-making” “Do you wanna go on a drive to clear your head” “That would really help me”. You smiled pulling away and walked towards the door, grabbing the car keys. He laughed behind you taking the keys from your grasp. “I’ll drive baby, we need to come back home alive” “Why are you so sure that I’m a terrible driver” “Because remember what happened last time you drove” “How many times do I have to say it, it wasn’t my fault” “Your right baby… that sideway shouldn’t have been there”

His hand gripped the wheel while his other held yours over your thigh. “Are you okay?” You asked looking out the window. Nothing, yet again.“Chan” Nothing, You turned to see him just staring at the red traffic light. What was he thinking about? The light turned green but he wouldn’t go. “Chris” Nope. “Christopher!” The car behind you honked pulling him out of his head, he quickly hit the gas going straight, destination unknown. You let go of his hand running yours through your hair. “Whats wrong” he asked turning to look at you. “You… what’s wrong with you?” “Nothings wrong with me” “Chris… I’m not blind. When something’s wrong you detach… and you're not here with me. Where are you, what's up?” “I just have a lot of things on my mind-” “You said that” You sighed turning to look out the window again. You weren’t mad, you were worried. Lately, you’ve been seeing less and less of your boyfriend, he’s been working like crazy on the newest comeback. But you were worried maybe he’d been overworking too much. He hasn’t been sleeping well, You don’t know how he's eating since he usually spends his time either in the JYP building or in his studio in your shared apartment. It was starting to affect you in a way. Your mind wanders like usual already but when he’s not laying in bed next to you how can you ensure that he’s safe, or he won't pass out yet again from malnourishment? The only way you could make sure he was okay was if you could feel him, and he was with you physically but not mentally. “Pull into this parking lot please” You spoke softly pointing to the parking lot of the supercenter. This was a very popular store but at this unholy hour, the space around you was basically empty. 

“We must look weird parked in the way back of the parking lot at 3 a.-” “Don’t bullshit me right now Chris… are you okay?” You cut him off turning to look at him once more. He looked guilty, he looked like a child being scolded by his mother for getting a bad grade. He was caught, he couldn’t hide it anymore. “No” he whispered looking down away from your eyes scared that you’d see right through him and see what really was eating at him. You were taken aback. It was extremely rare that Chan would admit that he wasn’t okay. To anyone. His favorite answer to that question being the typical “I’m fine”. “I’m not okay” he said out loud. You heard him, but he wasn’t saying it to you, but to himself. He was accepting that he wasn’t fine. “You don’t have to tel-” “I’m just so stressed with everything going on… I told them I could take it all, dance practice, recording, then working my ass off to go back to those tracks fix a little here, and a little there and now with-”. He looked up at you, he almost sold himself out. “And now?” “It’s nothing” he brushed it off, turning to look at the bright lights of the store’s sign. 

You knew he wasn’t cheating, you crossed that off the list right away. For two reasons, he was far too busy to produce, record, practice, spend time with you, and now someone else? There were frankly not enough hours in the day to handle anymore. Reason number two being he loved you, he really did. You noticed it, in the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, the way he treated you. He made it very known that he loved you oh so much. So what the hell was this ‘and now’ situation? Was it something with work? Was it something with you? You could go about this in two ways, you could either get it out of him or you could wait until he told you at his own pace, when he felt like telling you. Would your overthinking self go insane knowing there was something else he wasn’t telling, yes. 

“What could I do” You sighed taking the high road. You slowly grabbed his hand interlocking your fingers. He turned to look at you once more visible tears in his eyes. This next addition to his problems was eating him alive, but you didn’t want to be the annoying girlfriend who forced everything out of him. You both believed in privacy in your lives, so you weren’t going to cross a boundary just for your sake. All you could do was hope he’d tell you soon. “I don’t know” he finally said grazing his finger over your hand. Of course, in typical Bang Christoper Chan manner, he was going to try to comfort you, even though he was the one that needed it. If he didn’t know how you could help him, you surely didn’t. “Maybe a hug?” You suggested turning your whole body to face him. “It’s a start” he forced a smile pushing his seat all the way back to give you space to crawl into his lap. You embraced him letting his head rest in your chest while you stroked his hair whispering sweet confessions of your love and support towards him. 

"What would I do without you?" "You'd be just fine" "No I wouldn't… I'd crash and burn" As much as romance movies romanticized that line the sad reality was that it wasn't romantic. Not even in the slightest. It was scary, having to picture the person you love the most 'crashing and burning' just because they couldn't be with you for whatever reason. "I'd be okay" he whispered, noticing the gears in your head turning. He knew you, you were his other half of course he knew that you'd be overthinking his comment. He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, enjoying the moment with you. It was moments like that he held dear to his heart. "I don't want to be without you, but I'd be okay… sad, but okay" he whispered his hands resting on your lower back drawing small circles on the exposed skin. " I don't want to be without you either Channie" "Then don't" he smirked kissing you. You felt him grow hard underneath you, obviously taking in your surroundings you pulled away both of you gasping for air. He whined feeling you trying to escape his grasp wanting to go back to your seat. He held you down though, his hold on you being way stronger than your attempts. “Chan someone could see” “Let them see”. You looked at him shocked, he took this moment to place chaste kisses on your neck. He’s always said crazy things like this, like the time the waiter was flirting with you during dinner. Chan was visibly jealous and as much as he tried to show that you were his, by wrapping his hand around you or kissing your lips the waiter wouldn’t give up. So he whispered in your ear low enough so the boys wouldn’t hear his sinful comment. “I’ll bend you over right now and fuck you in front of him so he can see who you belong”. Or like the time that you two went walking in the park at night to clear your heads and he sat in you in his lap on the park bench grinding his hard member into your clothed pussy, begging you to let him fuck you, in public for everyone to see. But those were all jokes, He wasn’t being serious, right?

“Chan” You moaned feeling his fingers draw circles on your clit over your sleep shorts. “Chan we can’t” You moaned melting into his touch. “Baby you’re giving me mixed signals” He laughed pulling his hand away to rest on your thighs. “Do you really want me to stop” You looked around taking in the fact that no one was really around. “Fuck it” You kissed him while your hands traveled down to his sweatpants pulling them down to let his dick spring out. He went back to continue his previous movements and you shook your head pushing his hands away. “Baby what's wrong I’m just gonna stretch you out” “Skip it I’m wet enough, I need you now” “Are you sure” “Mhmm just fuck me channie”. Hearing you call him in these kinds of situations always drove him insane. He positioned you over him pulling your shorts to the side once more allowing you to sink down on him. He watched your face contort into one of pure bliss and pleasure. While you were in fact wet enough you still should've allowed him to prep you a bit. You felt yourself split into two in the best way possible on his throbbing cock. He needed you just as much as you did but he also needed to make sure that you wouldn’t hurt yourself. “Tell me when baby” he grunted really fighting himself to thrust up into you. You nodded resting your face in the crook of his neck to hide yourself, just in case someone was watching you. “C-chris… you can move” You spoke against the skin of his neck. You began to pepper his neck with kisses, you so badly wanted to mark him so everyone could see that he was taken, that he was your ma-. “Mark me baby” “But what about-” “The makeup artist can cover it up, remember when they covered up the scratches you left behind that one time” He grunted thrusting up into you with every word he spoke. You obliged leaving behind hickies on his neck and chest for the world to see. 

The windows were fogging, your minds were completely mush at the overpowering feeling of pleasure the both of you were feeling. You threw your head back as you felt his hands on your ass gripping tight for better leverage. Your body had gone completely limp he was doing all the work by bringing you up and down on his dick like a lifeless sex doll. Occasionally checking up on to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. “You okay baby” “Mhmm feels so good channie… Making me feel so good” You moaned grabbing his shoulders for stability. He worked one hand down to your clit drawing you even closer to your high. “Channie I’m close” “Me too baby… hold it for me yeah, Can you hold it for me baby, Can you hold it for channie” You nodded bitting your bottom lip looking down at his fingers playing with you. You tightened around him trying your best to wait for him but you just couldn’t. You cummed around him feeling even less in control of your body you rested your head on his chest as he continued to fuck you. “Fuckkk” He grunted throwing his head back, as he quickly pulled out of you cumming on both of your clothes. “Fuck I’m sorry” “Shit what are we gonna do now” “I mean we could go back home” “And risk the kids seeing us with cum on our clothes” “Shit your right” The both of you caught your breath trying to come up with a solution. In sync, you two looked at the store in front of you and then back at each other. “We’ll be in and out” “Okay but we need to be quick, we can’t risk dispatch seeing us like this, imagine how much trouble you’d be in” “Yeah imagine how much trouble I’d be in for having sex with my beautiful girlfriend oh my god” he said sarcastically rolling his eyes. He really did hate how there was an unrealistic expectation held up for him and anyone in the industry. They were only human and they had to do human things. Poor boys couldn’t even yawn on camera. 

He put his hoodie up and put on a mask to disguise himself, holding your hand and guiding you, you stood behind him. Yeah, there was cum on him but it was worse on you. You two both made it to the girl section first, you saw something that he obviously didn’t. Quickly you walked away from him and grabbed the onesie and then picked one in his size.  Not noticing you gone Chan went to the guy section his mind also seeing the onesies section. “Okay, baby quickly look for a good one” No answer. “Y/n” he turned around confused at your silence, only to notice your absence. “Y/n?!” “Okay, so I may have found the perfect one” You laughed walking towards him hiding something behind your back. “Baby hide yourself someone can see” “Calm down Chris… there's literally no one here” You laughed getting closer to him. He tried to peek at what you were hiding only for you to back up and conceal it more. “Nuh uh… patience babe… close your eyes” “Baby” “I’ll only show you if you close your eyes and show me your hands” “But I already have one in mind” “Christopher Bahng” “Yes ma’am” he closed his eyes holding out his hands. You placed the onesie in his size in his open hands smiling. “You may open” He opened his eyes looked down then closed his eyes again. “Y/n I’m giving you three seconds to get this away from me” “But it’s cute” You laughed taking it from his hands and holding it up so he could see it in all it’s glory. He opened his eyes rolling his eyes at the sight. “It’s very pink” It was in fact very pink, knowing his obvious distaste towards color you had to pick it. You didn’t notice all the details at first, but after paying very close attention to the pajama you notice the pink fluffy tutu the words princess written across the chest, and the crown on the hood. It was perfect. “Put that down and help me find a wolf onesie” “But what about this don’t you want to be a pretty princess” “I’m gonna have to pass”

“Nope, babe sorry just these” You sighed holding out the panda onesies. "Pandas? Are you sure there aren't any wolves" “I’m sure it’s either the pandas or the princess onesies” “But-” “Hey you're the one who cummed on both our outfits so pick one” “Fine… the pandas it is” “Fuck I really wanted the pink one” “Maybe next time baby” “Do you plan on cumming on my pj’s again” “Maybe” He quickly paid and led you both out of the store back to the car where you both changed into your new outfit discarding the old clothes into his back seat. 

You looked in the mirror laughing at the way your hair was a mess after changing, and Chan looked at you with pure love and devotion as you fixed it. “This” He whispered going into the glove compartment of the car, pulling out a tiny black velvet box. “This is what was on my mind. . . It’s been on my mind lately how much I love you and how I want to take that next step with you, I can’t imagine a life without you, and I know more than anything that we’re ready for this new stage, but I’ve been stressing on how to make it perfect… for my perfect girl” It was your turn for tears to form in your eyes as you looked at him, then at the box, then back at him. “Chirs…. This is perfect” “Really” “Mhmm” You bit your lip to fight back tears. “Well in that case” he smiled opening the box to reveal the most perfect, most beautiful-looking ring you’ve ever seen. You couldn’t stop them anymore, tears were falling down your face for sure now. He noticed taking his thumb to wipe them away. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n would you make me the happiest man and marry me” “Yes”.

[lovelytsunoda]

christmas on the road // george russell

summary: all george wants for christmas is to get home to his wife and his son. unbeknownst to him, his wife has a little surprise in the from of two pink lines that's about to make his christmas that much sweeter.

pairing: george russell x wife! reader

warnings: pregnancy. other than that, just fluffy dad! george. his son's name is hudson charles russell :)

king's lynn, norfolk. december 24th, 11:55 PM.

the soft lights of the christmas tree were the only lights on in the room as y/n russell sat curled up on the large couch, watching the clock tick as she ran her fingers through her son's fine hair.

hudson russell had insisted on waiting up for his father, but traffic out of brackley had been terrible, and though george had left four hours earlier, he still wasn't back yet. it was a hell of a commute to make, but george was lucky enough that most of his work could be done remotely when required. hudson had fallen asleep two hours ago, his little head resting in his mother's lap.

he was looking more and more like george every single day.

she still remembered the day that she found out she was pregnant. she had been so scared to tell george. they were so young, and he was still has something to prove. his second season at williams, his first with a new teammate. the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she hadn't wanted to add to that.

it had been a tough race. george had ignored everybody when he got back to the garage, including his girlfriend. she'd tried so hard to stop herself from crying as she watched his driver's room door click shut.

fuck the pregnancy hormones.

"georgie?" she'd asked softly, gently knocking on the door. "can i come in, love? i need to talk to you, and i want to know that you're okay."

the door creaked open slowly. george was sitting on the massage table with his head in his hands. "i can't do this any more, y/n. i can't hang around at the back of the pack, driving in circles all on my own. i'd rather admit defeat."

it hurt her to see him like this. she took a seat next to him, looking at the windowless white room that he'd somehow managed to make feel like his own for the weekend. "george, you can't give up just yet. it's been a rough few years, i know. but we need you."

"we?" there was confusion in his voice as he turned to look at her. "honey, what do you mean 'we'?"

"george, i'm pregnant."

time seemed to stop as george just stared at her. "you're what? but how? we were so safe."

"sometimes, things just happen, george. i don't know. but i do know that this baby wouldn't want their father to give up right now."

george turned around, taking her hands in his. she was starting to cry, and he hated that he knew he was about to make things worse, even though he didn't want to. "baby, i love you so much, and i need you to know that, because i need some time to myself to process this, and i don't want to say anything i might regret. but i need you to know, you and this baby, to know that you're so loved."

nine months later, hudson charles russell was born, and george had come straight from the racetrack to the hospital, leaving nyck de vries to run the qualifying session, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, race suit around his waist as he held his son to his bare chest, trying his best not to cry.

they'd gotten married a year later. george had walked down the aisle holding hudson's hand, and charles had hudson on his shoulders for the entire ceremony.

and now, a small box covered in sparkling wrapping paper was waiting under the christmas tree. something that would change her life again, in the best way.

the door opened behind her, and she found herself waiting for george's traditional 'honey, i'm home' shout before she remembered that her husband probably assumed that both she and hudson were asleep.

"in the living room, hon!" she tried to shout it as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake the sleeping toddler in her lap.

george russell couldn't stop the smile on his face when he saw his wife on the couch, wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, hair thrown up in a messy bun. and he smiled even wider when he saw his little boy curled up at his mother's side.

"hi, honey." george smiled, leaning in to kiss y/n. "why is hudson still up?"

"he just wanted to see his dad." she smiled, brushing a small strand of dirty blonde hair out of hudson's face. "do you want to tuck him in?"

y/n moved to stand up, hudson in her arms, when george stopped her. "i've got him, darling." george was quiet and careful, doing his best not to wake the small child in his arms. hudson stirred, wrapping his small, pudgy fingers around george's thumb.

it was still little moments like that that made the mercedes driver's heart swell. it was a feeling even better than his win in brazil the year prior. (lando had teased him relentlessly for mentioning hudson and y/n in his podium speech.)

y/n followed her husband upstairs, her heart filled with love as she watched george kiss his son on the top of the head. before she went up the first step, she ran back to the christmas tree.

the clock read 12:06.

it was officially christmas morning.

the grabbed the small box, slipping it into the pocket of her bathrobe before she turned back towards the staircase, tiptoeing over to hudson's room.

the little boy was lying in the middle of his racecar bed, a custom-built replica of his father's old williams f1 car. the soft blue sheets were pulled up over the two-year old's small body. george was laying next to hudson, comfortingly resting his hand on the toddler's back.

y/n watched from the doorway, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have found george william russell. and how the two of them were about to get even luckier.

at the sight of his wife standing in the doorway, george sat up, pressing a quick kiss to his son's temple before he slowly got up from the bed, crossing the room and closing the door behind him.

"merry christmas, love." he smiled, pulling his wife in for a deep kiss on the lips.

"since it's already christmas morning, i have something for you." y/n beamed, passing her husband the box. "go on, open it, you muppet."

george laughed, still standing in front of hudson's bedroom door as he pulled at the wrapping paper. it was an old box from swarovski, and the driver gave it a confused glance before y/n whispered to open it.

he carefully opened the end of the box, his face scrunched up in even more confusion before the white plastic stick fell out of the open end, into his palm. he turned it over, his eyes opening widely as he saw the two pink lines.

"you're pregnant? we're having another one?" his shock gavev way to excitement, his grin splitting his features as he beamed at his wife. "i'm going to be a father again!"

"that's a much better reaction than last time." y/n laughed, wrapping her arms around the love of her life before she kissed him. "we're having another baby, darling."

"i love you so much." george whispered, on the verge of tears as he kissed the top of his wife's head. "merry christmas, y/n."

"i love you more, george william russell. merry christmas."

________

Tags: @magnummagnussen @daydreamingleclerc @flannel-cures @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc

[sznofthesticks]

BDAY ROADTRIP PLEEEEEEEASE

@ladytessa74 also asked about this one so i shall tag you here.

this is 100% self-indulgent with (US) football themes because I am terribly sad about my precious bengals having a terrible season, i am presenting you with this short snippet i wrote this evening because of @tailoredshirt's coaching to me about texas lore and the cultural phenomenon of Buc-ee's. (also i looked up pictures. IT'S HUGE. I HAD NO IDEA. IT'S LIKE BIGGER THAN ALOT OF GROCERY STORES IN MY TINY LITTLE TOWN. I GUESS EVERYTHING IS BIGGER IN TEXAS).

this is freshly written and unedited so here we go:

Carlos was making bets with himself in his head about how long it would take until TK fell asleep on this road trip. It would be about three and a half hours depending on traffic. He bets that TK will fall asleep within the first hour. He loved TK with all his heart, but that man cannot drive. He can’t blame him, most people who live and grow up in Manhattan don’t or rarely drive, but my god. Being a passenger when TK is driving is downright terrifying. He will happily always be TK’s driver.

They’d been driving for about an hour at this point and the Camaro’s gas tank was just above ¼ of a tank and he never let it go below that, so he decided to start scoping out for somewhere to stop. He put gas stations into his GPS and knew exactly where to stop and couldn’t wait to take TK in.

“Babe, wake up.” Carlos whispered as he nudged TK. "I had to stop for gas but I need you to come in with me.”

TK gave Carlos a perplexed look. “Why? It’s a gas station…?”

“TK, it’s more than a gas station. Trust me. You have to see inside.” Carlos grabbed his husband’s hand and shut the car door behind him.

TK couldn’t believe what was before his eyes as he walked in and Carlos couldn’t help but have the biggest and most smug grin on his face.

wip tag game

[quaranmine]

The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Chapter One)

It's 1988. Grian and Mumbo are roommates living in the US. Mumbo leaves on a solo camping trip at Grian's suggestion to get away from his job for a while. But when he fails to check in at the end of his trip, Grian is forced to report him as a missing person. And now the clock is ticking.

It's 1989. Grian takes a job in Shoshone National Forest as a fire lookout, prepared to spend the summer alone in the wilderness. But his primary goal isn't finding forest fires: it's finding Mumbo, who went missing in this location a year ago, alive and well. He expects to be alone. What Grian doesn't expect is having the company of the other nearby lookout, a man named Scar. Their relationship grows through their conversations held via two-way radio, as Grian finally begins to let Scar into the truth about why he's really here and mystery he's unraveling.

A Hermitcraft Firewatch AU.

Chapter One: 7,162 words

Masterpost | Chapter Two >>

Welcome to the Firewatch AU! It's okay if you've never played the game, since the plot of this story is different than in the game. If you have played the game, you'll notice some similarities, especially in the setting. If you plan to play the game, this fic will not spoil it. I just really really like fire lookouts :]

Content warnings will be added per chapter as needed. I've done a lot of research on this topic so some there will also be some notes on a reblog. This fic will be Grian and Scar centric, but it's also very much about Mumbo as well. There will also be the inclusion of art with the chapters.

May 31, 1988

Grian remembers it because it’s 7:30 PM on a Tuesday evening, and he’s sitting at his desk in front of the window trying to catch the early evening slanted sunbeams on his sketchbook. The light is golden on the page and his hand casts a shadow on his work. 

That’s when Mumbo crashes through the front door–quite literally, too. The door swings shut with a bang. It’s a heavy door prone to closing on its own.

Without looking up, Grian calls out, “Remember not to slam it! Mrs. Grant complained last week, you know.”

“Right! Right, sorry!”

“Bad commute?” Grian asks. 

He hears Mumbo drop his bag in the corner with a sigh, and the sound of him flopping down on the couch. Grian turns around to look at him sympathetically. Mumbo has dramatically put his palms over his eyes, slowly dragging them down his face.

“Ugh,” he groans. “It was the worst. Someone wrecked on 25.”

“That sucks.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mumbo says. “How long have you been sitting here? All day?”

“Nuh-uh, I had a meeting today with Mr. Perry.”

“Did that go well?”

“Yeah,” Grian says, lying through his teeth. But only just a little. 

Mumbo hops up off the couch and walks over to Grian’s desk. “Is that what you’re drawing now?” he asks. He picks up the sketchbook. 

“Yes,” Grian says sagely. “I have many ideas.”

Mumbo squints at the page. “You’ve only got a tree, Grian.”

“Hey!” Grian says, snatching his sketchbook back. “Look around! There’s plenty of trees out here! Well, maybe not on this street specifically, but give me like 20 minutes and I’ll drive you to a big forest.”

“Oof. Make it an hour. The traffic’s awful today, I told you.”

Grian and Mumbo stare at the tree drawing for a few seconds. “Is it at least a nice tree?” Grian asks. 

“You’re supposed to be drawing houses, mate,” Mumbo says, amused. “Your meeting went terribly, didn’t it?”

“I have absolutely nothing,” Grian says. “Zilch! Zip! Nada! Empty brain. I can tell you there will be at least one tree next to his house, though.”

“Imagine that,” Mumbo says. “Million dollar house on a mountainside. One tree guaranteed.”

It’s Grian’s turn to use the shut up line. “Shut up,” he says. 

There’s something ticking in Mumbo’s brain, and Grian can tell. He looks past Grian through the window with the streaming gold light, out at the mountains in the not-so-far distance. And Grian remembers it, even when he doesn’t want to.

“We should go camping,” Mumbo says. “Get out of the city for a few days. See some trees with no houses next to them. Get away from all that highway traffic.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Grian says. “This weekend? Do you want me to call and see if I can reserve a spot in the national park? Or a little more west and hit a national forest?”

Mumbo screws up his face a little at that. “Let’s go a bit further this time,” he suggests. “Do several days instead of just a weekend. We could even leave the state. Go someplace we haven’t already been a million times. Maybe even a little more remote.”

“When?” Grian asks. 

“Is next week too soon? I could just take off midweek and we could go drive somewhere. Please? Think of all those early summer wildflowers up in the mountains.”

“Dude, I can’t take off mid-week,” Grian says sharply, suddenly feeling very frustrated. “You know that. I need to be finishing these designs! You gotta give me more notice than this, Mumbo.”

“Right,” is all Mumbo says, and he looks so tragic that Grian already feels bad for snapping at him. 

“Is it that bad at work?” he asks. 

Mumbo looks away, past Grian back back out into the mountains in the distance. “I just don’t know if I can take another week,” he admits. “I need to take some time off. And hey, maybe he’ll even fire me this time for giving him only a week’s notice that I’m taking vacation time!”

“You need that job for your visa,” Grian points out softly. 

Mumbo rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll try to keep my job I guess. No trying to get fired. I’m still taking that time off though.”

“He wouldn’t fire you anyway,” Grian says. “You’re much too useful.”

That causes Mumbo to crack a little, and he starts to smile again. “Yeah, mate, that place’ll burn down without me. If I leave for a week they’ll be begging me to come back and fix everything that went wrong.”

“If anything, that’ll just ensure your job security!” Grian says. “Hey, maybe you could just go without me. I’d love to go, I really would, but I can’t lose this deal with Mr. Perry. I’m the project leader this time and he’ll likely drop the whole project if I don't so much as answer the phone on the first ring…”

“Rich people,” Mumbo says with a nod.

“Ugh, yes, rich people,” Grian says, and throws his head down on his desk for dramatic measure.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Mumbo says. He thinks for a moment. Grian lifts his head and watches the way contemplation flashes across Mumbo’s face. 

“Dude, just go by yourself,” Grian urges. “I can’t stand to watch you drive yourself insane another week. You’ve done it before, right? And why don’t you bring the bike? That way you can do all those difficult trails you’re always trying to drag me down without worrying about me wrecking it.”

“Should I?”

“Yeah,” Grian says, and he remembers this too, for as long as he lives, “I bet it’ll be fun."

»»———-　　———-««

June 16, 1988

Grian is bouncing his leg, trying to bleed off nervous energy with every shake. He’s bouncing his leg because at least his leg is hidden under the table he’s sitting at, whereas the pen he’d been tapping earlier was about to have resulted in an annoyed client and lost job. 

The table is large, and oval. He’s in some weird conference room-home office place in Mr. Perry’s gigantic house, discussing the floor plan for yet another gigantic house Mr. Perry wants to build. Mr. Perry, of course, hates half of the floor plan Grian has proposed. 

Grian hasn’t quite figured out why Mr. Perry needs two gigantic houses, but it really isn’t his business considering he’s being paid. And he’s being paid very well for this. It’s probably the best job he’s landed since he started and he’s grateful his boss let him take this client, annoying as he is. This newest house would be within walking distance of a ski lift though, and this house isn’t, so Grian can at least see the value there.

He bounces his leg. He tries to count how many times he bounces it in a minute, only to find that he can’t really keep up with the passage of time, number of bounces, and the bouncing itself all at the same time. He loses track instantly. But if he can just get through this meeting, then he can make an excuse to go home. Only 4,000 leg bounces until he’s passed enough time to leave. He’ll be out of this stuffy room like a bullet. 

He’s thinking so hard about leaving this meeting and going home that he forgets that he has to actually be in the meeting first. 

“Excuse me?” Mr. Perry says sharply. “Did you hear any of what I just said to you?”

“Hm?” Grian says back, before suddenly being slammed back into reality. “Oh, apologies sir. Can you repeat that, please? I must have been a little distracted.” He gives a wan smile. 

Mr. Perry gives him a long look. “I was saying that I don’t think I like the placement of this room.” He jabs a finger at the blueprints. “I mean, who needs a parlor these days, let alone a second parlor? I want to change it.”

Grian squints at the room in question. “I think we could open it up to the kitchen and living room,” he offers. “Open concept and all that. There’s a lovely view to be had that’s being blocked by the walls right now.”

“Let’s make it a pool room,” Mr. Perry says. 

“Uh, a pool room sir? On the second floor?”

“Not an entire pool, that’s nonsense,” he says. “Just a large indoor hot tub. It’ll be cold out when I’m visiting this house.”

“I…I think I can do something like that, sir,” Grian responds. “We’ll just ensure that the engineers clear it for the amount of water weight it would put on the floor and add extra support if needed.”

“Can there be some windows or screens in the room?”

“You mean on the inside wall?”

“Yeah. So I could see the hot tub from the living room if I wanted.”

“Um, sure. We can do that.”

He sneaks a glance at his watch. Only 35 minutes to go now. 

He just…doesn’t want to think about it. He just needs to leave. He’ll get home, make the phone call, and it will be okay and he’ll feel silly. But every second he’s stuck in this godforsaken massive house is just another second he has to spend knowing that he’s delaying something very, very important. 

If he thinks about it, he’s going to spiral, so instead he keeps trying to channel every bit of the nervous energy into his right foot. 

“Grian,” Mr. Perry says, and Grian snaps his head back up from the blueprints, a little surprised that the man has used his first name. 

“Yes?”

“Would you like to leave early?” Mr. Perry asks. “Since you clearly have somewhere else you want to be.”

Grian freezes. “My apologies sir, I’m not trying to make you feel rushed in this process. It’s very important to me that you feel like everything in your future home is exactly how you want it, no matter how many tries it takes for us to get to the perfect result.”

“I don’t appreciate it when my employees lie to me, you know,” Mr. Perry says. “Save the corporate spiel for later. You’re making me exhausted just looking at you. I think if you bounce that leg any faster it’ll fly off.”

“Oh,” Grian says with a hint of a nervous chuckle. “Suppose that’s true.”

“You can go home now,” Mr. Perry says. “You’re not paying attention anyway. Just get me some new ideas for that hot tub room and we’ll reconvene on Monday.”

“Yes sir, thank you so much,” Grian blurts, and grabs his papers off the desk, and tries to walk out of the door at a normal speed instead of sprinting.

»»———-　　———-««

He arrives home a little after 3:30 pm, tossing his bag and papers haphazardly on the couch as soon as he runs in. The door accidentally slams again, but he doesn’t really care what Mrs. Grant thinks today. His goal is the phone on the table by the kitchen; even all the way across the room he can see the message light blinking on the answering machine next to it. 

He pulls the phone off its rack and presses to listen to the message on the tape. It plays, and…he sets the receiver back down. 

It’s just his landlord, calling to say that he won’t be around to fix the door for another few days. 

Grian paces once around the living room, then twice. 

He pauses in front of the window. It’s clear and sunny out, with very little smog on the horizon. The mountains are in clear view. 

Grian returns to the phone, and dials 411. Directory assistance. He’s not quite sure the number he needs to call for this, and his local phone books are of no use for out of state numbers. An operator picks up. 

“Hello? Yes, I’d like to place a call to the Shoshone National Forest Ranger Station. Location? Uh, I think it’s in Cody, Wyoming. Yes, thank you.”

A minute or two later with the correct number for the office scribbled on a notepad, Grian is patched through. A young woman answers the phone. 

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” she asks. 

“Erm, hi,” Grian says. “I’m calling because I’m worried about my friend. He was in the National Forest and he’s missed his check-in.”

“How long has it been since he missed his check-in window?”

“Several hours at least,” Grian answers. “He told me it might be late, or really really early, so I was expecting a call last night or this morning. But I didn’t receive one. I left for work early, thought maybe he’d taken a bit more time than he told me, but it just nagged at me. It was supposed to be hours ago. When I came home just now there’s no message on the answering machine.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, darling,” the ranger says. “Can you please give me some information about him? Full name, age, appearance, vehicle, license plate if you know it, and the trails or locations he told you he would be hiking in? We can pass that information on and begin a search.”

A knot in Grian’s throat forms at the word search. “Of course,” he replies. 

He rattles off the information as she asks for it, from Mumbo’s somewhat rickety AWD sedan that he was always convinced he could drag down any road he wanted, to his dark hair and mustache. He gives her Mumbo’s full real name, and feels a little silly when he includes the nickname right along with it, but he figures Mumbo might appreciate it. He tells her the trails Mumbo had mentioned doing, and how many days he planned to spend hiking. 

“He brought his mountain bike too,” he says. “I don’t know if he took it with him on any overnight hikes but he had a setup for that, where he could strap his pack to the bike.”

“Thank you,” the ranger says. “Being on a bike could extend the range he could be in, but it could also limit which trails he could be on due to terrain. Here, I’m going to patch you into the local Sheriff’s office to make a report too, is that okay? I’ll call some of the field offices and get some rangers on this. We’ll start by checking for his car at the trailheads.”

“Thank you,” Grian says.

He calls the Sheriff’s office and makes a report. He tells them much of the same information he told the ranger, and the second time repeating it only makes it seem more macabre. He answers all the questions to the best of his ability. Yes, Mumbo was an experienced hiker. No, he was not having a personal crisis, just wanted a few days off work to unwind. 

And then he sits and waits. The whole process had only taken a little over an hour. 

He paces some more for a while. He goes to the kitchen to get some water, drinks that, and finds it only killed a couple minutes, so he goes and paces some more. He stares out the window for a while again. Then, he organizes some of the papers he hastily threw down when he got home, because it’s still probably not a good idea to risk losing or bending any of Mr. Perry’s documents. 

He gets another call around 8 pm. 

“We found his car,” the ranger says. “It's still at the trailhead.”

“So he never made it back to his car last night.” So he’s not just a spoon who forgot to find a payphone and give his friend a call. 

“I’m afraid not.”

“So…so what now?” Grian asks. 

“We’ll start sending some rangers and volunteers down the trail to look for him, in case he’s hung up somewhere and needs a little help. His bike wasn’t in his vehicle, so he must have had that with him.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Please keep me updated.”

That night, Grian doesn’t sleep, and the next morning Grian doesn’t go into work. He’s already driving northwest. 

»»———-　　———-««

May 1989

11 Months Later

He’s grateful when he finally rolls up to the trailhead after being jerked around on the rocky, uneven road for the last 19 miles. He’s the only one in the small lot, which is less of a parking area and more of a clearing at the terminal point of the road. 

He lays his head back on the headrest for a moment just to rest, eyes closed, and sighs. The sun through the windshield is warm on his forehead, but the day outside is pleasantly cool with the bite of winter still on the wind. There’ll still be snow on the mountaintops for a while yet. 

It’s noon. He spent the night in Cody, in an old motel but different room and left in the morning with his whole life packed in a bag. He has a long hike ahead of him this afternoon, and he won’t get there tonight. But he might as well start. 

Grian gets out of the car and inspects it. It’s a 1978 Chevy Blazer he picked up two weeks ago when he realized he was going to need a 4x4 to even make it to the trailhead and traded in his old sedan. Its red and white paint is covered completely in a coat of dust and topped off with several mud splashes from snow meltwater on the road.

Fortunately, nothing rattled off the vehicle during its inaugural off-road journey, so Grian is just left to hope it still has air in its tires the next time he hikes back out. And that might not be for a while, so he’s stocked it with a spare and patch kit. He has an elementary knowledge of how to fix a tire but he figures the motivation of being stranded 19 miles back on this empty road will breed enough desperate ingenuity to fix any problems he encounters. 

Grian grabs his pack from the backseat, and starts down the trail. 

Grian loses himself for a while during the hike. It’s easy to do that–to just walk and turn your brain off completely. One foot in front of the other over and over. The motions over and over tune the rest of Grian’s brain into a nice numbness. He listens to his boots crunch gravel and dry leaves. He looks at how the sun dapples the trail. 

He hikes onward.

The forest is loud in a way the city isn’t. It’s not the type of loudness that announces itself, but the longer Grian hikes onward and alone the more its presence makes itself known. It’s like Grian’s brain is getting rid of the noise that’s filled it for so long and allowing him to really listen to the sounds of life. 

The wind whistles through the trees, shaking the pine needles. It doesn’t blow on Grian; the taller trees around him shield him from the gusts. He hears the light gurgle of a creek well before he comes down a hill to cross it, and when he approaches it a frog leaps away from the bank. 

At one point, Grian’s dragged out of his silent contemplation by the commotion of rattling leaves in the undergrowth next to him. It spikes his heart rate and he freezes in place, until a medium sized brown spotted bird explodes out of a bush at the side of the trail and flies away, low to the ground. 

He smiles a little to himself. Just a bird, startled by a person. He is trespassing, in a way, it seems, to intrude his presence upon such a wild area. This is the bird’s home, not his. He’s just being offered a place in it to protect it. 

He hikes onward as the sun dips lower in the sky.

»»———-　　———-««

June 17, 1988

Grian arrives at the Forest Service office in Cody, Wyoming at half past ten in the morning. The sky is blazing blue and cloudless, but there’s haze on the horizon. 

He stumbles into the office, brushes a piece of greasy hair that’s fallen on his forehead back up, and tells a slightly-startled looking lady at the front desk: “I’m here to join a volunteer search. My friend’s missing.”

She looks him up and down with a critical, yet sympathetic eye. “What’s your name, sir?” she asks, in a way that suggests she might already know. 

“Grian.”

“Grian, where did you drive in from?”

Grian stares at her. “Denver. Why?”

“Denver’s eight hours away,” she says. “Isn’t it?”

“I don’t see why that’s relevant.”

She sighs, and gives him a look. A pitying one that he hates. “Darling, how much sleep did ya get? It’s not even noon yet.”

Grian huffs. “I don’t know. An hour or two. I’m fine!” He looks at her pleadingly. “Please, just let me know where I can go to help out.”

She just shakes her head, and picks up the phone on her desk. Grian watches her dial it, and hopes for a second she’s calling another ranger to come escort him or something, but that hope is crushed the moment she speaks again.

“Hello?” she asks on the line, and waits while the other person answers. “Yes, I was wondering if you had a room available. You do? Good. I’m going to send someone over your way. Yeah, I’m doing good, how are you? Glad to hear it. Thanks, darling. Yeah, he’ll be coming in a bit.”

She hangs up and scribbles something on a notebook, before tearing out the page and handing it to Grian. It’s got a short list of directions. Down the road two miles, turn right on the second road after the bridge.

“It’s a nice little motel not too far from here,” she says. “They’ll give you a room and you can get some rest.” 

Grian shoves the paper back across the desk at her. “No. Tell me what I can do to join the search for my friend, please.”

She smiles saccharine-sweet and hands the paper back to him again. “Take it. I don’t want to see you back here for at least another few hours. In fact, I won’t give you any information unless you come back in a few hours. Get some sleep, you stayed up all night and just drove eight hours straight. You’ll be much better equipped to help out if you aren’t too tired to hike.”

Grian feels frustration well up in his chest, consuming the ball of anxiety in his chest. It threatens to break him too, so he looks away from the ranger and at the floor instead, though. Finally he speaks again. “My friend,” he whispers. “Will he be okay?”

The woman answers, “All our rangers are trained in search and rescue. They’re professionals. This is what they do, Grian, and they’re good at it. They’ll do everything in their power to find him.”

Grian nods tightly. 

“Now get some sleep, darling.”

»»———-　　———-««

May 1989

It’s night when Grian arrives at the tower, on his second day of hiking. He’s been backpacking many times before, but the rough terrain on this hike was still a surprise. It’s difficult to scale rocky hills with a bulky pack, and his shoulders are sore and his walking is slower now–so it’s night by the time Grian arrives at the place that’s going to be his home through October. 

It’s a wooden tower built on a hill. A staircase winds itself around, leading to the top where there’s a single room surrounded by boarded up windows. Nearby on the ground is an outhouse, small storage shed, a generator, a water tap, and nothing else. 

Well, at least he’ll have electricity. He’ll have water too, but it seems like he’ll have to haul it. He knows from his lookout orientation a few days ago that there’s a water tank with rainwater catchment and filters, but there’s no way to pump it 30 feet to the top of the tower.  

Grian turns on the generator, and heads up the steps with the single-minded determination of an exhausted man who knows there’s a bed waiting for him. When he arrives at the top he throws on the lights, tosses his pack down, and surveys the place. 

He was expecting it to be pretty dusty and ill-maintained, but it seems pretty clean. There’s bedding folded up neatly on the mattress–Grian had been expecting to just use his sleeping bag. It looks like someone had been sent to the tower recently to clean and stock it in preparation for his arrival, which he appreciates. 

He’s not really sure the level of effort it takes to maintain this place out here in the wilderness, and his mind goes down a brief rabbit hole. How was all this wood hauled out here? What about the nails, the rivets, the glass, the tanks? Was it hauled up on the same trail he just spent a day and half walking down? They must have used horses to carry materials but someone still had to assemble all this. He has a lot of respect for that. 

Grian is just starting to lay out the bedding when something over on the table begins to crackle. He walks over to inspect it. It’s a small black handheld radio sitting on a charging stand. He was told he’d have one of these. 

It’s not set on the frequency he was told to keep it at, but before he's able to tune it to the correct one, it crackles to life anyway.

“Two Forks, Two Forks come in! This is KSNF, broadcasting to you live from Thorofare. Your host on this fine spring evening is-”

Grian picks up the radio. “Hello?”

“-none other than Scar.” 

Grian sighs. Of course, this is a two-way radio. He can’t respond until the other person on the line has stopped talking. He waits as the so-called Scar keeps going. It occurs to him that he might be trapped out here all summer with this guy.

“He’s brilliant, he’s handsome, and he’s calling you dear listeners, hoping to hear your thoughts. What ails you tonight? What are your hopes, dreams, loves, losses? Or perhaps, what is your name, Two Forks?”

Grian, sensing the pause, jumps in. “Um, hi,” he says. “This is Grian. The new lookout at Two Forks. And you must be…Scar, I presume?”

“Grian!” the radio chatters. “What an interesting name. Yes, I’m Scar. I’ll be your supervisor this summer, ‘cause I’m so good at this. I’m also practically your next door neighbor.”

Grian looks out the window, but it’s dark and the windows just reflect himself. He looks away. “Uh, yeah. How did you even know when I got here? Where are you?”

“I saw your lights flick on,” Scar replies. “Been keeping an eye out for when you’d arrive. Go outside, you’ll see my lookout to the north.”

Grian steps outside, feeling the chill in his bones again. Once he stopped hiking and rested for a few minutes, the warmth from the movement wore off and he’s reminded again how cold spring nights in the mountains are. Sure enough, out in the distance, snuggled amongst the dark peaks, is a tiny orange light. 

“Oh,” he says. “There you are. I see your light too.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Scar says. “We’re the only lights out here tonight. Nothing else for miles around. Not even a campfire–well, of course not, ‘cause those are banned right now. Please report any of those you see.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Grian says. “That is the job, is it not?”

“Oh, we've got a smart one,” Scar replies, and it’s a sentence that would probably sound acerbic in anyone else’s mouth, but Grian detects no sharpness in the words. Just friendliness. 

There’s an awkward few moments on the radio, before Grian speaks again. “Okay, erm, I’m gonna call it a night, then. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight!” Scar calls, and then, “Wait, wait, don’t go yet. Your radio, um, write down the frequency band we’re on right now. Keep that.”

“Um, okay,” Grian says. “It’s different from the one I was told in orientation.”

“Yeah, we’ll use that one too. That’s the one you need to report on. This one’s just for us. You don’t want the whole Forest Service to hear us chatting all the time, do you?”

Great. This guy wants to chat with Grian.

“I guess not,” he says finally, not untruthfully. He doesn’t really want anyone to overhear him talking, because he doesn’t really feel like talking to anyone in the first place. Half the point of taking this job was the distinct lack of human contact in every possible aspect, after all. 

“Good! Anyway, talk to you tomorrow, um….Grian. Your name was Grian.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the mosquitoes bite, Grian!”

He flicks the switch on the radio to the off position before Scar can say anything else, and runs a hand tiredly through his hair. This might be a long summer, and he cannot allow this guy to distract him from the other half of the reason he took this job:

He’s here to save Mumbo.

»»———-　　———-««

“Two Forks! Two Forks come in!”

Grian wakes up to the tinny sound of his radio across the room, and streaming golden sunlight over his face. But mostly the radio. 

“Oh wonderful lookout of the tower over yonder, wake up! It’s a beautiful afternoon today, the sun is shining, and I can let you sleep no longer! Alas, our duty calls. Two Forks, answer your radio.”

Grian rolls over and puts a pillow on his head. Scar continues. 

“Perhaps this is like a fairytale,” Scar muses. “Are you sleeping beauty, locked away in your tower, desperately waiting for true love’s kiss? Well, I can hardly speak for your true love, so you’ll have to settle and wake for me instead. Do you like Disney, Two Forks? What’s your favorite movie?”

Grian kicks his blanket onto the floor and slides unceremoniously out of bed. He sways for a moment. His legs aren’t really sure they’re ready to support him today, not after all the mountain climbing he did the other day. Then he strides resolutely to the other side of the room, picks up the radio, and turns the switch off. 

Ah, peace. 

Grian wanders over and sits on the bed for another few minutes, letting his mind spin out and gain traction again. He takes his glasses out of their case beside the bed and puts them on. The sun is bright and high in the sky, so it’s not early. It casts the room in a nice light, and Grian takes his first opportunity to look over his new home. It’s painted an old and slightly chipped white, with little posters and photos pinned to open spaces on the walls. The room is mostly filled by its spacious windows. They frame every side of every wall, almost as if Grian is living in a glass house. 

The view is, of course, spectacular. 

The mountains are both jagged in some places and rounded in others. He can see hills upon hills for miles, wrinkling out into the horizon like a piece of crumpled paper. There’s pockets of meadow and open woodland that contrast with thicker pine forests, creating a patchwork. The hillsides are painted in different greens–an aspen grove there, fir here, golden spring grass, or the bright spring flowers he can see coloring patches of the meadow. The sky is a blazing blue, and there is no haze on the horizon.

It would be spectacular, wouldn’t it? Something so beautiful would have to be so cruel. Grian is already familiar with these views in the way of someone scorned. He’s been here before, and this time he isn’t leaving without dragging the secrets from the darkest valleys. 

Grian stands up again, a little more clear headed, and heads to the stove. It’s propane powered, and he’s grateful it exists at all. He takes out a small metal pot and, upon finding it dusty, casts it aside and pulls his own camp pot from his pack. He’ll wash things later. He pours some water in it, sets it to boil, and tries to figure out where he’s set his tea. 

With a mug of tea in hand–tragically no milk and a supply of sugar he’s decided to use very, very sparingly–and the radio in his other hand, Grian steps out onto the wraparound walkway at the top of his tower. It makes for a nice deck. 

Lazily, he flips the radio back on. “This is Two Forks,” he says smoothly. “I’m awake now, what do you need?”

“G-man!” Scar nearly shouts on the other end. “It’s great to hear your voice this afternoon.”

“Ugh, afternoon,” Grian groans. He checks his watch. “It’s what, 12:30? Lunchtime? Already?”

“You’ll be okay,” Scar says. “You’re not really officially on duty until tomorrow anyway. I always like to check on the new lookouts on the first day anyway, though. You doing good?”

“Fine.”

There’s a pause, like Scar was clearly waiting for more than that. Grian is giving him nothing. After a moment he gets the memo and proceeds. 

“Good to know, good to know. So, G-man,” he starts. “You’re a lookout now. That means your only job, from now until October, is to keep an eye on this forest for any fires. If you see a fire, report it to me, or to the rangers on the official channel. I’m talking campfires, fireworks, lightning strikes, everything. You got that?”

“I believe I can handle it,” Grian says drily. “I’m pretty good at looking out windows.”

“Do you see the round thing on a table in the center of the room?” Scar asks. Grian does not, because Grian is outside on his deck, but he’s seen it before already and doesn’t feel like walking back inside to play along.. “That’s your Osborne Fire-Finder. I assume they taught you how to use that?”

“Yeah. Always keep it calibrated, locate the fire in the rotating sight, and use the tool’s measurements to determine its location and precise angle.”

“Wow, you’re going to put me out of a job!” Scar says, and somehow Grian just knows he’s genuinely beaming on the other end of the line. 

“I can’t be in two lookouts at once, now can I?” Grian says, words sharp. It doesn’t phase Scar.

He continues. “The only other real thing is that you need to report daily first thing in the morning with the weather conditions at your tower. This helps us keep track of what the fire danger is on any given day or week, so I expect you to take that seriously. Additionally, you’ll be expected to keep logs of conditions in your area. Anything else, well, I’ll just help you with it if it comes up!”

“Cool.”

“Any questions, G-man?” Scar asks. 

“Um, yeah,” Grian says. “Just one. Have you been calling me ‘G-man’?”

“Yep!”

“Alright, follow up question. Can you stop?”

“Nope!” Scar says brightly. “Every lookout needs a nickname, it’s only fun. I suppose if you had a nickname you’d rather be called though, I can consider it.”

“Uh, no,” Grian says. “I don’t have another nickname for you to use.”

“Aw, too bad. I guess it’ll just stay G-man, then.”

Grian is nearly overcome for a moment, and, despite the objectively peaceful surroundings, desires to tear his hair out. He does not. Instead he replies, in his most carefully snarky tone, “Fine. Is Scar your nickname, then? What’s your real name?”

“Grian!” Scar exclaims, in mock offense. “I’ll have you know that this is my legal name, thank you very much.”

“I have so many reasons to doubt that.”

“I would never lie to you, G-man.”

Grian rolls his eyes at that, but he can’t stop the corner of his mouth from turning up. He takes a sip of his tea. It’s nice in his hands, warm, and the smell alone is making him feel more at home. There’s silence on the radio for a long time, and Grian almost assumes that Scar has gone. He’s fine with that being the end of their discussion for the day. 

Scar isn’t gone, though, and after a while the radio crackles again. “Say, G-man,” he starts. “Now that you’ve asked me your questions, mind if I ask one of my own? A little equivalent exchange, you know.”

“Go ahead.” Grian sips his drink. 

“Where are you from?”

“Denver.” It’s not untrue. 

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude,” Scar says tentatively, “but…where are you from before that?”

Grian sighs. “England.”

“I knew it!” Scar cries. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to shout, there, my bad! It’s just interesting to me, that’s all! You’ve got such a lovely accent.”

“I guess,” Grian says. “You never met a British person before?”

“Oh, sure,” Scar says. “I’ve met several tourists from the UK. But between you and me, most people flyin’ across the ocean for a vacation tend to just stop at Yellowstone or Grand Teton instead of here. And the ones that do don’t stray too deep into the Forest.”

“Yeah, well, s’bit far back here. Took me two days to hike in and then I slept until noon afterwards.”

“Yeah, that hike tends to beat people up,” Scar says. “So. What on earth brings someone from England to Colorado to Wyoming?”

“Maybe I just like the mountains.”

“You don’t have mountains in England?” Scar gasps in horror. “Oh my goodness, that’s a tragedy. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“No, it’s like, well–we do have mountains in England. It’s just, well, they aren’t exactly like this are they? It’s a different sort of landscape. And besides, the place I grew up in just had hills.”

“Oh,” Scar said. “You know, I’ve never been to England. Never really left the western half of this country, actually. Is it pretty there?”

Grian thinks back, to cobblestone streets in town and misty mornings. He thinks of the way everything was just drenched in vibrant green in the summers. He thinks of old churches with ivy on the walls and fields of grass hemmed in by stone fences. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s pretty there.”

“Man,” Scar says. “I’ll have to go one of these days. I am wondering, though–it’s not, uh, very common to meet, um, someone from another country working this job. Since the Forest Service is a federal agency, you know.”

Grian scoffs. “Isn’t this line of question a little forward for a first introduction?” he asks. “Whatever. It’s not like they didn’t poke into my background enough during the hiring process. I have dual citizenship–free, clear, whatever you wanna call it, to work for the US government.”

“That’s so cool,” Scar says. “So does that mean you like, came here and applied for citizenship and got it or–or were you like born here, and then moved to England. Or, even, you got it through marriage? Are you married? Like how does this work?”

“I’m not going to tell you all the details of my life.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Scar says. 

“It’s fine.”

“Hm,” Scar says. “You know, it’s interesting that I met you, almost like a coincidence, right? I remember hearing about another British guy in the park last summer–a tragedy, I tell you. I heard the rangers still haven’t–”

Grian’s blood instantly runs cold at the mention, and the warm mug in his hands isn’t doing enough to pull the heat back into his body. For a moment he wants to dash the mug onto the ground dozens of feet below, and cut his hands on the ceramic when he goes to pick up the shattered remains–leave no trace–on the forest floor, dripping blood onto the leaves.

He doesn’t do that. Instead, he flicks the radio off with shaking hands, cutting Scar off mid-sentence, and stalks back into the cabin.

»»———-　　———-««

Grian’s sitting on a rock next to a lake. The sun is slanted now, casting golden orange rays across the water. The air is crisp and, although Grian hasn’t touched it, he knows the water is cold. It’s snowmelt-fed, afterall. 

He’d turned on his radio again an hour or two after he turned it off earlier, once he’d recovered enough to have a normal conversation. Scar had been worried, but he’d accepted Grian’s excuse that he’d left some water boiling on the stove and needed to attend to it immediately. He hadn’t known Grian long enough to see through his excuses yet, unlike Grian’s old supervisor. 

Scar had been quiet the rest of the afternoon, though, as soon as Grian told him that he was going out to explore. Grian appreciates the peace. 

He pulls a map out of his bag to study it. It’s not the map he was given of his lookout area when he started. No, this one is worn on the edges from countless foldings and unfoldings. It’s not so much a map as it is several maps–it’s several detailed topo maps taped together into a square. 

In one map, the Two Forks lookout is circled in red marker. Grian did that a few weeks ago, when he’d learned which lookout he was assigned to. It’s a beacon on the page, his new base of operations for the next few months. And it couldn’t be in a better location. 

The rest of the map is marked-up too. There’s highlighter along some trails, penciled in areas of interest, and shaded areas. They’re search areas. It’s not the first time Grian has been here. 

He examines the maps, cross referencing his with the topo map he was given as a lookout. The Two Forks domain covers much of the locations that Mumbo’s search did last year, but more. There's still a lot of blank space on the maps, especially in areas that were inaccessible by trail. Just because it was off-trail doesn’t mean Mumbo never went there for some reason. 

Grian takes a pencil out of his bag and begins to mark up the map once again. It’s something he’s done before, and there’s spots on the map where his eraser has rubbed off part of the ink. He pours over the contours, thinking, this valley has shelter from the wind, or there’s a source of water here.

When he’s finished he stares at the page for a long moment, and then back out at the lake in front of him. The shadows are even longer now. On the other side of the lake, the ground is cast in shadow already, with the sun disappearing early behind a mountain. 

Did Mumbo enjoy these views, too? Was he here?

Grian would ask him when he found him.

Masterpost | Chapter Two >>

[scarletsaphire]

29 Gray Ghost

29- Giggling While Kissing Send me a number and a ship and I'll write a scene!

Valerie sat behind the driver's wheel, stone faced. She needed to stay focus. If she let her attention stray from the road in front of her for even one moment, than everything would be over. She couldn't afford to give in.

Danny wasn't making it any easier. He was flopped over in the passenger seat, clutching his stomach and gasping for air. Sometimes he'd start to straighten, or he'd open his mouth to say something, only to start wheezing and double over again. It was incredibly distracting.

Not quite as distracting as the absolutely horrible music currently blasting from the speakers, but it was close.

Danny must have finally caught his breath, because he straightened in his seat. "Wait, wait I have another one!" he called over the music. "Why didn't the road apologize to the traffic cone?"

Valerie didn't bother trying to figure out the punch line. She'd given up that game by hour two. It was a miracle she lasted that long. "Why?"

"Because what pave said wasn't what pave meant!" Danny said, before devolving back into a mess of laughter and tears. "Get it? Pave meant? Pavement? Cause its- its a road?"

Valerie tried to keep the smile off of her face, she really did. If she smiled, then she would lose. But it was already hour three and three quarters of the road trip, and Danny had finally managed to wear her down. More from his own overzealous laughter than the absolutely terrible to sometimes alright puns he'd been saying the entire time. She couldn't keep the smile off her face.

Danny saw it immediately and threw his arms into the air, cheering. "Yes! I got you to crack! Pull this car over right now, it's my turn to drive!"

Valerie sighed, though it came out more as a chuckle. "If we crash and die in a horrible car accident I'm blaming you," she said as she pulled into the nearest parking lot.

"Aw, come on, I'm not that bad," Danny said. He unbuckled his seat belt, making his way around to the car to the driver's side. Valerie didn't bother to get out, just hopped over the console and into the passenger's seat.

"That's what your dad says too, and we both know what he's like," Valerie said, buckling herself in.

"I'm a better driver than my dad is," Danny said.

"Barely, which isn't saying much. I'm pretty sure that a rock rolling down hill has a better grasp of traffic laws than both of you combined."

Danny gasped dramatically. "You take that back?"

"Never," Valerie replied, sticking her tongue out at him.

"That's it. I was hoping I wouldn't need to use it, since you already cracked," Danny said.

"Oh yeah? Use what?" Valerie taunted.

"My secret weapon." Valerie realized that he hadn't buckled his seat belt yet when he leaned across the console. He was able to move freely, and she was trapped. Danny's hand covered the release button before she could reach it as she was struck with the dawning horror.

"You wouldn't," she whispered, looking into Danny's bright blue eyes, only inches away from her own.

Danny's mischievous smile was answer enough as his free hand snuck under her shirt and started tickling her. Now it was Valerie turn to double over with laughter.

"Take it back!" Danny said.

"Never!" Valerie gasped out between her giggles.

"Then I'm never going to stop!" Danny rebutted. He removed his other hand from the belt buckle, not that it would do Valerie any good. He'd managed to climb entirely into her lap, despite the somewhat cramped confines of the car seat.

She withheld for another minute under the relentless onslaught before finally conceding. "Fine!" she called out. "I take it back!"

Danny stopped tickling her, but didn't remove his hands. "And what do you take back?" he asked.

"You and your dad combined can beat a rock in a driving test," Valerie said.

"Ok, now say that you love me, and you'll be free to go."

"I'll do you one better," she said. She grabbed his wrists, moving them off of her stomach and to her sides, causing his head to lower towards hers. The kiss was messy; broken by the remainders of Valerie's giggle fit and Danny's own laughter. She'd only intended for it to be a quick thing. But the parking lot was empty, and every second that Valerie was kissing Danny was another one that she didn't have to be in the car with him behind the wheel.

It didn't matter too much if they were late anyway.

[bomberqueen17]

ok if you start typing a post title and then backspace you lose the entire field to have a post title and there's no way to get it back, so here we are, untitled.

So I spent two weeks at the farm, and was trialing Adderall, and it was sort of impossible to make any judgements about the medication because when I'm at the farm there's such a routine and task lists and stuff it's easy to just follow along, which is part of the reason I go there. But now I'm home and after a three-minute video consulation that cost $210 after insurance I am just doing two more weeks of the same thing. So I'm going to try to conscientiously log symptoms and side effects and things, so that at my next $200+ consultation I can get like some actual advice maybe.

(Whatever. I have the money in my HSA I might as well.)

So I'll go on about that after the cut probably but first: Eclipse!

My niece and mom are coming to hang for the eclipse, and my mother-not-law will join us. We may end up hanging out at her house or at mine, I'm meant to be scouting locations-- there are many many events going on locally, some free and some not, but there is also an estimated tourist load of about three million excess people expected in the region, and I just feel like traffic is going to be so terrible. I don't want to go anywhere I have to drive to! And I don't want to be stuck sitting in a venue somewhere.

So I'm gonna come up with snacks and a couple of activities (probably involving cameras!) at my house or at M-N-L's if her view is better (she has a paved patio that faces south so I suspect it will be; my best vantage point is my unshaded concrete stoop, as my sunporch has a western view and is not totally unimpeded).

Ideas for snacks and activities welcome, my starter list below the cut.

Activities:

Beforehand, I will get either white or black t-shirts, and we can decorate them with dye or bleach, and make ourselves commemmorative shirts. I have everything I need for this but the shirts.

Set up a camera on a tripod to record the eclipse? Set up another one pointed at a white sheet to record shadows.

Have several objects prepared to cast shadows with. I probably can't get a leafy branch this time of year, but a couple of colanders, a grid or something, a stretch of lace, that kind of thing, mounted in embroidery hoops or whatever, to look at the cool shadow shapes.

Of course I have eclipse glasses.

Snacks: oh i can't put this one in bullet points thanks tumblr, no i don't want this to be a gigantic asterisk never mind

frosted cookies cheese plate we can pretend are in festive shapes, my ass is not going to bother with that vegetables lol

Anyway I'm still sorta brainstorming that. My niece is ten, so it's not like i need little-kid stuff, I just want things that will actually be cool to observe. I haven't researched this yet I just remember watching leaf shadows at the 2017 eclipse.

So that's that. Currently I'm tidying the house kinda lowkey, because it's in better shape than usual and also it's just BIL and niece stopping overnight, but it's a good trial run of the guest bedroom. I'm mostly there and am on a 15-min break just now. Still have to set up the guest bed which means moving shit out of the way in that room.

Now: Symptom log.

Adderall makes me very dehydrated. I drink and drink and drink until I can't stand water anymore, and I'm still sorta thirsty and I pee like. Twice a day at most. Kinda weird.

During the two weeks at the farm I had one incidence of a terrible 20-hour headache, and another incidence of vertigo, and I think both were just plain dehydration, because I was drinking water like a normal slightly thirsty person. No, I need to have a huge mug next to me at all times and just drink out of it every couple of minutes. it's intense.

I also sweat really easily. it doesn't seem to be affecting my actual stamina; I get overheated and kind of huff and puff with light activity, but once I'm moving I'm fine and can do a normal day's amount of work without undue fatigue. I'm not sweating enough to explain the dehydration, but I am sweating a whole lot more than normal for this time of year. I may have problems with this in the heat and am already preparing to give that some thought.

Insomnia: not really anything outside my normal. I've had problems for a few years where I'll not be able to sleep, or will wake ultra-early and have trouble returning to sleep, and I've continued with this but no more often than normal and have in fact had several *very* good nights of sleep. I also, the first or second day I took this stuff, had an *incredible* nap around 2pm when I think the dose wore off, and then slept fine that same night. So. I feel kind of lucky with that and will not complain.

But: what is the medication actually doing?? Is my concentration better?

Short answer: not that I've noticed. Hard to observe, at the farm; there's an external schedule there, and I've never had much trouble just getting on that. It's something I've done for years; I love hitching a ride on a household's schedule and then I don't miss meals or lose hours to accidental procrastination. "What's got to get done today? Here's the list, pick what you want and when to do it" has always been my ideal situation. I was able to accomplish more than the list most days, and my motivation was good, and as usual my limitation was not drive but physical pain. (Yes, the PT has helped my bad hip so much, but my "good" hip was a bastard the entire time, with the awful radiating nerve pain from my knee through my lower back. Don't like that, PT isn't fixing that nearly so well.)

So, now that I'm at home, I've had two days totally on my own schedule, and the results are uh. not good. I still don't know how to make my own to-do lists very well, still don't have any clear notion of what I can expect to achieve in a day, still don't really know how to break down tasks well, and super don't know how to initiate them. I fell back on my old junebugging ways, where you just say "ok go!" and do whatever pops into your mind in the order it occurs to you, and hope some of the things on your list get done, and that's got me through a fair bit of housecleaning and putting my stuff away and such.

But I've been having, the same as or more than usual, problems where I pause and then get stuck. I go to pee and wind up on my phone on the toilet scrolling some app or other until my leg falls asleep. I go in the kitchen intending to make lunch and wind up staring out the window a while. I set out to do the dishes and wind up cleaning every window I can reach.

So it's frustrating, I can't tell if this is better or worse than before, and I also think the medication wears off in the early afternoon so my effective window of testing is really short and not really getting me anywhere. But we'll see, I still have a week and a half so I will try some more non-medical frameworks to see if I can't prop the meds up into giving me some more function. And yes, I'm sorta recovering from the relocation, that's always an issue, so maybe the last two days being not ideal are inevitable and I just have to settle more into routine. But that's frustrating.

Anyway. OK. Off my ass and back to work.

[rjwhite]

That's the Day I Throw my Drugs Away

The Morphine album Cure for Pain came out 30 years ago, on September 14, 1993. A few years back, I was on this music review mailing list, where each member had to take a turn writing about an album of great importance to them. This was mine.

Ever since I was a kid, cities always held a fascination for me. I was not well-traveled, growing up in the middle of Michigan. The idea of being in some cosmopolitan, dense, East Coast metropolis was amazing to me, yet it took until well into college to even head out there, for a college television conference in Providence in 1996. We made the drive from Michigan State University, cut across Canada in the dead of night to spend a day in Boston, then head down to Providence in rush hour traffic. Checked into the hotel and one of the people in our group asked who was playing in town. Morphine at Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel. A friend said we absolutely had to go, as the band was amazing. I’d never heard of them, but went along because, hey, a concert in an actual, real city and everything, you know?

A loud club with cheap beer. Lots of people crowded in. The band came on. It was one of those weird things you always remember. These guys were on stage- not young, one of them playing a bass with only two strings? The one guy playing two saxes at once? The lead singer going into some beat poetry? What was this? I’d never seen or heard anything like it. My mind exploded. The band, the crowd, everything was in sync. Leaving the club, being downtown in an old, established city- the whole weekend of experiencing something I’d built up for so long … it just cemented that I needed to be in a place like that. I needed to live somewhere with history, vitality.

We got back to East Lansing and one of the first things I did that week was go to Flat, Black and Circular (still one of the best record shops I’ve ever been lucky enough to shop) and pick up Cure for Pain. It wasn’t even the album they were touring for (Like Swimming). I think Cure for Pain was the first one I saw in the rack? But it grabbed me and entranced me and hooked me for life. I listened and listened and listened. This incredible, smooth, wonderful mix of I don’t know what- jazz? Rock? Stories of cheating and sleaziness and sadness and loss and regret?

It’s just a wonderful thing to just discover a band you had no idea existed and instantly be taken with them. To feel that connection you never knew was there and somehow know you’ll be listening to them for a good, long while. It’s almost like falling in love with someone, you know?

I just always associate the album with that time and it’s all smashed together in my head, making that absolutely certain decision that, someway, somehow, I was going to live on the East Coast, in an honest-to-god city where I could go to places like Lupo’s and see bands like Morphine for the first time.

Now, I live in Philadelphia and never go to shows!

Though the odd, strange miracle of the internet, I’m able to hear a bootleg of that very night, knowing that 21-year-old RJ is in that crowd somewhere, just happy and dumbfounded by what he is hearing and utterly enjoying being in that moment.

I don’t know if I can hear myself in there, though. That might be too strange, like thinking of the dead people in the repeated laugh tracks of old sitcoms.

But, the record! Just a pleasure to listen to, front to back.

“Dawna” and “Buena” kicking it off… “I’m Free Now” as a sad, incredible post-breakup song where you feel like that terrible jerk who’s made a bad mistake (I'm free now to direct a movie/Sing a song or write a book about yours truly/How I'm so interesting I'm so great I'm really just a fuck-up/And It's such a waste to burn down these walls around me)... That delicate mandolin of “In Spite of Me”... The barrelling train of “Mary Won’t You Call My Name”... That jazzy, smoky rambling of “Let’s Take a Trip Together”... “Thursday” is almost a short film, with the wenching title track slamming you right after… all of it...

July 3 will mark the anniversary of Morphine frontman Mark Sandman’s death from a heart attack in the midst of a 1999 concert in Europe. If you could throw this (or anything from their wonderful catalog, really) on, I think that would be nice.

Anyway, that's why I love this 30-year-old record and this band. Listen to it wherever you can, it's a hell of a beautiful thing.

[brostateexam]

Yesterday, the power was out at my house for about eight hours due to a substation catching on fire. The entire portion of Oakland I live in was without power, actually.

At first it didn't bother me. We were supposed to finish painting the bedroom that afternoon anyhow, and you don't need power to do that, so we did it. Then, it was supposed to be over, but they extended at the last minute by another six hours. In the interest of Shane being able to attend class and do homework, we headed out in search of somewhere that had electricity.

Driving on major roads while every traffic light was out was a bit tense. Not because I don't know what to do when that happens (traffic light out = four-way stop, duh), but because a four way stop is a bit inadequate for when a six lane road crosses a four lane road. Especially in a city where something like 1 in 20 drivers think that there are no laws other than "if I'm going get out of the way."

Anyway, we ended up in Alameda. All three Starbucks' we tried were closed because Alameda had lost power, too, but they got restored hours before East Oakland did. Whether that's because they are a much richer + much whiter area or because they have their own independent power authority who was able to restore partial power to the grid, I'm not sure, but either way, this is how we ended up hanging out in a partially powered shopping center for four hours or so.

I'd been meaning to go clothes shopping, so I stopped by Kohl's and had to restrain myself from buying every instance of this one grey herringbone pattern that they made into loungewear. It looks like mental illness personified. It looks like i'm ready for a long flight or a lobotomy or a spa day. This + some grippy socks serves 72 hour hold realness.

More stuff about bodies and weight and post-surgery stuff under the cut.

I think I'm now a 36 in actual sizes and a 34 in flattering vanity sizes like Kohl's in-house brand and presumably Old Navy. I'm going to try to go down one more size before I start thinking about building a permanent wardrobe. Ideally, I'd go down two more sizes, but I'm starting to get to the point where smaller stuff is not going to fit on my body because of my shoulders and thighs. I think even if I could lose sixty more pounds (which is btw what it would take for my BMI to not be "overweight"), I don't know that it would look right. Who knows if that's even possible, though, let alone if it will happen.

I know that if I want to look how I want to look, I need to get to a gym and start exercising properly. Walks ain't cutting it any more. So far, the stumbling block is I can't find a gym I like. I've toured a Planet Fitness and a 24 Hour Fitness, and both of them were terrible. Next to no weight machines, no squat racks, abysmal free weight section. Like, what the fuck is the point?

Sorry, that was a digression.

We left the overpriced but lovely Thai restaurant we had dinner at because I got a notification on my phone that our power was back on. We're on the same block as a fire station, so they prioritize restoring our access. I'd been worried about this when I bought this place, but with the double-paned windows you basically can't hear the sirens, and with the blinds down, you can barely see them, either. And we are never chosen for brown-outs during the summer cause the firestation needs to be powered. That's gonna be helpful when we have air conditioning, I think.

[pbandjesse]

I did not feel well today. But it was really nice being outside. And I feel a little better now. Just waiting for my husband to come home.

Oh wait there they are!! The night has improved.

I slept okay. I snoozed my alarm once but I had to leave on time today. So I could not be to lazy, even if I wanted to.

James did not sleep well and had the saddest eyes this morning. They sent me to work with extra hugs and we laughed about how short I was when I was standing in the doorway because it's a step down.

The drive to camp was horrible. Besides just the regular traffic, people were just driving terrible, and there was a disabled car on my exit ramp so I had an hour commute today. I texted Elizabeth and let her know and she was stuck in a different part of traffic so we were going to arrive around the same time. And in the end, me, her, and Sarah all pulled up at exactly the same time.

We were all a little stressed about the day and the calls for rain. But me and Sarah would jump on the gator to go set up my program. I was doing a stream survey/macro invertebrate survey, so we just had to get a few things like the identification sheets and a white board.

We would get that ready and went to the office for a few minutes to gather ourselves. And then we went to get our groups.

I had some very very mixed experiences today. We walked up to their cabins to meet the kids and my first group was so sweet. I gave one of them my last bead lizards from yesterday. They were a lot off fun. It took up a little while to get ready (they all wanted to go change their shoes so we we would be near water) but we headed down to the stream site and got to work.

While that first group and chaperone was awesome and super interested, we did struggle that early in the morning to find stuff. I did find a newt which is always exciting. In the end we would find 16 different species and they were great sports.

2nd group struggled. Apparently they had had a big fight at the first program. And a few people got hurt. And then almost immediately when they got to me one of them sprayed bug spray in their eye. We were just doing a great job.

And then half way through the program it started storming, and normally that wouldn't matter but there was lightening so it wasn't safe and we had to quickly gather everything and head to the office, our closest shelter.

It was decided they would just go to their cabins to dry off. And I would go have lunch. This was for the best for everyone.

During lunch I got to meet the MC for the Monkton Music Festival, and he was a really neat guy. And had some suggestions for reaching out to nonprofits and stuff for the vender area. Pretty cool. Very professional. Also gave me some stickers for his charity. Love a sticker.

We had a very long break. I just turned by my brain off for a while. I would go up to arts and crafts to get my rain jacket. And would try to just be chill. I wasn't feeling amazing. But at least I would get to be outside.

My afternoon was tough. The first problem was that my first group was in love with Manny. They wanted to be with him and when they found out they were with me they all got really upset and I know it was not about me but it did hurt my feelings just a little. But they were really nice girls in the end. And really good finders.

I had asked to move from the stream site to the pond, and we found so much good stuff up there. Tadpoles and diving beetles and best of all: a salamander! A big one! And the girl who found it was so proud and she should be! That's a really hard find! They are slippery.

We would had a fun hour. But their chaperone started feeling unwell so the group leader, Oliver, had to come get his group from me. I hope the chaperone feels better!

My last group was the toughest. They were not nice to me. The one boy wouldn't stop laughing and acting like everything I said was a double entendre and I asked them to stop and they acted like I was insane. Finally the chaperone had to jump in and tell them how disappointed he was in them and I felt bad because I wanted them to have fun and laugh but also please let me get through my things so we can go look at bugs.

We did find some good stuff. They were being gremlins a bit, throwing things in the water. But they found a few good things. And the chaperone was super interested in everything I found. Including a rotten log full of ants. We even found the queen!

But the boys wanted to be done. So I walked them through the woods to their cabin. Showed them some snail eggs and things as we walked. But only a few actually listened. I was glad we could finish early. I think I may have been a little sensitive but they did make me feel kind of bad.

I would decide to go home after that. They didn't need me for team games. And I needed to go do something else. I checked with with the office. Chatted with Alexi and Heather and Elizabeth. And told them I would see them tomorrow.

I drove to five guys for an early dinner. It wasn't exactly what I actually wanted. Which was a sprite, a pickle, and Mac and cheese. But it was a close second. And the worker was flirting with me just a little and that was at least good for my self esteem.

I went down the street after eating to look at the goodwill. But no good finds for me today.

Instead I decided to go towards home and to to DSW. To look for new flip flops.

The drive there was a little annoying. But it was fine. I would enjoy looking around. And I found a pair under the budget I had set that I really like. They are something I'll have to wear in to be as comfortable as my old ones (just a little stiff) but I am very happy with them.

I changed into those and walked to the five below. And was thrilled to find the turtle rug I have been trying to find since we moved into this house. And just a few other small things. Bugs bands and some cheap sunglasses to have as extras just in case. And I was feeling better.

I went home and got to work on my tasks. I had to bring all of our travel clothes outside to spray with the bug spray stuff we got. I did two passes and then flipped everything and did two more passes. They had to dry for two hours after that. And while they were drying I went and washed my hair. I did the dishes. I fed the animals. I went through and chose the jewelry I was bringing and once the clothes were dry I would refold mine and packed them up. And I would inventory James's suitcase and pack all of their clothes. They still have to collect the rest of their stuff but it's a start. Pretty great.

We got some updates today too from Paul. There is a plan to see animals. And some things to know about the week. I'm very excited and also so nervous! This is going to be a very good trip.

James is home now and they just got out of the shower and I'm going to spend some time with them. They don't seem as sad and that makes me feel good.

I hope tomorrow is a fun day. I accidentally left my work keys at camp. So when I get there I might work on some stuff at the art building. But it should just be a nice day. I hope I can feel better.

Sleep good everyone. I love you all. Good night!

[returnedfromthepurge]

I still remember.

I remember when I couldn't even stand people talking about the problems they had with their children on a radio show because I was so overloaded with stress about the 20+ children at the daycare I was parenting*. (* What daycare is these days.) I would legitimately get so angry and turn it off for the rest of the ride because I didn't want to hear anything anymore. And I had an hour drive to get home.

I would lay down for sleep and try to do my nightly routines and my mind would play back any sound I'd heard that day, their screaming, the tiny voices shouting my name and their whining. I'd try to do things for stress relief, and needed headphones to separate my mind, to avoid replaying the songs in my head that had to be played all day, because stereo player silence was not looked positively on by management or auditors.

I remember being so sick of the mascots and insisting to the children that they were real, and these characters were the reason for art and music and why we study them. I felt like I was experiencing Corporate Hell and brainwashing three year olds to talk to a plastic sticker on the wall of a mascot when I didn't have time to interact with them. We were encouraged to use that tactic often, when a child would come to us to interrupt, not knowing better of patience.

The main mascot was used as a moral guidepost, however vague.

Everything below the cut is what the tags are about.

I had a parent who told me he was surprised his five year old son was still dressed when he came to pick him up- because at his old daycare, they left him undress whenever.

I never had stress like the day I reported to CPS about a child who'd did and said things that no one his age group should even know about. That child knew evil and it was present in his eyes. I have never wanted violence so desperately, to kill what he had been made into before he got to hurt more people. I wanted to kill a five year old boy and the human creature that turned him into this .His family could die too, the entire bloodline as far as I was concerned. I wanted the satisfaction that I could not have years ago, to kill the one that had possessed someone I'd loved and adored years ago, that was now infested in this child that I could see perfect dullness in his dead eyes. They had no life in them, and I wanted to be the one to be the one who stopped the flow of blood to his diseased mind. I saved many young minds from trauma by resisting that urge in front of them. He was transferred by his parents to a different school.

The day I vented about it to my friend, I was so distracted talking to the phone in the passenger seat, I rear ended someone, and wrecked my vehicle so badly it was undrivable. Everyone was uninjured. It was ruled an accident due to the slick roads. I still think that pickup driver was texting at a green light.

Weeks before I decided I would quit, I sat out beside a large bush next to a fast food place, and tears escaped before I knew why they were coming. I laid in the dirt until it was time to go clock in. A week before, I had had a panic attack terrible enough to take myself to the hospital, afraid what I would do if given the chance to run into traffic .

I bought myself a new shirt on the first day after the hospital, because I was told to be around people, for my own safety. For the days I took to recover, I bought myself a print of that one Louis Wainwright painting , " I am happy because everyone loves me." and framed it a month later.

I don't know that I'm strong enough anymore to handle having children of my own. I think I might be the best example of a person who should not have any. I think I'll be surgically sterilized as soon as possible.

I'm better now. I very truly love the job I'm at. But I know my limits more intimately than I ever thought I could. And I'm never putting myself in a situation again where I'm doing the emotional labor for parents and employers who throw money and gifts at me.

[min-yunki-agustd]

Sope tries to go out on a date after work doesn't end soo well with namjoon being the driver. yoonngi pov

sickies: (main sickie)yoongi, hobi

caretaker: namjoon and hobi

TW: platonic, gay relationship, emeto, mentions of v****, nausea

migraines sympathy sickness. etc

Word Count:

___________________________________________________________

It started with namjoon offering hoseok and yoongi a ride home. Namjoon had just gotten his license and car a few days ago and wanted to show off his skills to the members each taking them few by few on a ride. It worked out pretty well so far. Jungkook got his ride, He drove him first since he'd be the least likely to be afraid to ride. Once Jungkook survived a ride namjoon convinced taehyung and Jimin to ride. There weren't any problems, motion sickness, accidents, or anything of the sort, which made it easy for sope to hope in since he'd already driven with others before. The If the member with the worse motion sickness rode and was fine why shouldn't he and hoseok be? Yoongi and hoseok stood side by side waiting for the ride from the hybe building. They both worked long hours and plan to have a date tonight. It was yoongi's plan. It had been a while since they were out and he wanted to do something special with hosoek. They've both been too busy working on separate things. They stood outside in the rain waiting for their ride home so they could change and prepare for the date they planned. For some reason, hybe has been having a problem with their driving staff lately. This is the third time the two had called ahead for a ride and the showfer be late. As yoongi began to feel the water soak threw his clothes he began to wish that he had just driven today but neither himself nor hobi likes to deal with the traffic in the morning. Yoongi was starting to feel hoseok's previously warm hand grow cold and wet as they stood outside.

They didn't think the driver wouldn't take this long otherwise they wouldn't have decided to just wait in the rain. Now, it's too late to go back inside. The janitor has already arrived and begun vacuuming the floor. Hoseok rests his head on yoongi's shoulder. He's probably tired yoongi thought to himself. Aside from working on his songs yoongi knows hobi likes to dance until his legs give out. Standing must be torcher right now. yoongi feels terrible at the thought. He takes his free hand out of his pocket and holds his temple, trying to quiet the irritation in his cranium. He's had a migraine coming on all day but it's starting to get more challenging and hard to ignore. Yoongi was lost in thought again and hadn't noticed footsteps slap against the pavement. Coming from behind the two. He really hopes it's not staff. Even though All the staff had to sign a privacy agreement and he's worked with half the staff for years, you just never know who could be out to get you. Plus, He'd rather not have to explain hoseok and his relationship especially since most staff are quite older and might not approve of it. Yoongi's back began to get tense listening patiently and the footsteps get closer to his side. hobi must not hear them over the rain because he has yet to have moved his hand from yoongi's. The footsteps had finally arrived at his side. He felt a hand touch his shoulder. he looked up, it was namjoon. He signed in relief.

"Did you two have a showfer bring you hear this morning?" namjoon asked. his voice catches hoseok's attention. Hosoeko lifted his head and looked at him. "Yeah, but they're taking a long time.." yoongi says looking at his watch. "I can give you guys a ride home if you want?" "thanks, but we planned to go home drop off our stuff and go out tonight. yoongi says. " ohhhh, you guys are going on a date tonight, I can do that for you hyung, I got nothing better to do tonight "namjoon laughs a little. Yoongi looks back to hoseok half for approval, half just for any comment at all. hoesok was quiet but gave an approving look. Now yoongi knows for sure his hobi is tired, hobi is never quiet, he's usually loud and excited. Yoongi's sure he's still excited about the date but also just tired. yoons looks back to Namjoon. " ok joon, sure. " the three-headed to joons car. Yoongi called to cancel the showfer on the way to the parking lot. The ride shouldn't be bad yoongi thought as he and hoseok sat in the back of the vehicle not wanting to be apart. The other members rode. They lived. Yoongi trying hard to have a positive mindset but the truth is he's nervous to be riding while namjoon is driving. He hopes it doesn't make hobi feel sick or anything. After checking surely that their seatbelts were locked in place yoongi snuck a look at hobi. He seemed to be a bit nervous too. Yoongi took his hand and snaked it over to hoseoks thigh. giving it a squeeze for comfort and then connecting hands and then fingers. Yoongi caught hobi taking in a deep shaky breath. He really really hope hoseok wasn't working himself up already.

" everyone got their seat belts on? " namjoons says looking at the couple in his back seat. The two shook their heads. " all right then let me know if you need some more heating it's kinda cold out today. Nammjoon says as he begins to pull off. It was late in the afternoon so traffic was terrible. hopefully, namjoon could manage yoongi thoughts. The start of the ride wasn't bad at all, namjoon pulled out of the parking space smoothly and he got out of the lot smoothly as well. He even managed to find a good quick opening into the street. good so far. The first time wasn't a big deal at least not to yoongi. He thought joon is still learning and being a good driver takes time. Namjoon slammed on the brakes hard though he was nowhere near hitting another car. Yoongi's stomach and his head didn't really like that but he knew it was probably an accident and that namjooon was just trying to be safe. Giving a dizzying glance at hobi he wasn't looking too good after it either. The second time it happened yoongi had kinda expected him to slam on breaks because of someone pulling out in front of them. a good move for safety but less comfortable for the couple who are feeling sick in the back. " sorry bout that!" namjooon yells out to the two. despite looking a little ill hobi yelled back "it's ok joon your doing great." yoongi however this time had one comment his head was now in a full-blown migraine and he was trying to not let it show. The third time namjoon slammed on the brakes was a lot like the first kinda point less to stop so hard. only this time he stopped cause he almost missed the turn.

At this point, yoongi had to let go of hoseoks hand. He needed to settle his stomach a bit. His was kinda going haywire along with his head. Hoseok noticed his hyungs discomfort and began using the hand yoons let go of to rub the older back. Yoongi seemed to be having trouble keeping it together. He hadn't even noticed that the car was now at the apartment complex and parked. they sat there kinda still. Namjooon looked back at the two wondering why they hadn't gotten up yet. He saw yoongi's head was In his hands, then he looked at hoseok who seemed to be trying to soothe his boyfriend but also dealing with what seems to be carsick himself. hobi has the back of his hand to his mouth, a worried expression on his face looking at yoongi hyung and his other hand rubbing yoongi's back. Namjoon wondered why yoongi had gotten so quiet. When yoongi wasn't spinning at 100mph he sat up from his curled head in his hand's position. He put a hand to his stomach. he realized he need a bathroom pronto. he hopes out of the car and slammed the door shut. He put a hand to his mouth and practically ran to the fancy apartment complex. Hobi was right behind him. Before namjoon can even say a word. The two run inside. Yoongi was hoping he could make it to the bathroom in his room upstairs but seeing as his mouth begins to overflow with what tasted like his third cup of decayed coffee he also mapped out the closes public bathroom on the bottom floor. Yoongi's stomach is kinda weak but he's always been the one to have control over it. He choked out a few gags but managed to keep going. all the way to his room. waiting in the elevator had to have been the hardest. just standing there holding back everything was hard. Hoseook was by his side comforting him.

hoseok wasn't feeling great at all but he wasn't seconds from up-chucking like his hyung. A wave of dizziness caught him just as hoseok used his key to open the door. yoons felt like he was gonna lose his balance and fall to the floor. His eyes began to blur as the automatic lights flicked on killing his migraine. He almost lost it then and there, in fact, a sick dripped down his hand onto his shirt. hosoek helped steady him and got him to the guest bathroom, yoonngi really wanted to go up to his personal one but beggars can't be choosers. His wet hand latched onto the porcelain and he heaved loudly. He gagged and lurched his head into the toilet again, vomit splattered everywhere hitting his own face, the seat, and his tightly gripped hands. Hoseok had been patting his back and trying to comfort him, but after hearing so many deep retches and watching as the vomit splashed back, watching that reactivated his own nausea and he had to grab the little trash can under the sink and join him in his hyung vomiting session. Yoongi could hear his love losing his lunch behind him. They were setting each other off Round after round. When he finally got a chance to breathe a surge of negative thoughts plagued his mind. There they were, they could have been doing literally anything but this yoongi nose deep into the toilet, shivering from the extremely cold bathroom, cold white tiles touching his skin. Waiting patiently for the next round. They could have been relaxing together, or catching up with Namjoon or I don't know they could have been on the date yoongi planned for them?!! but instead, they sit in this putrid bathroom where yoongi can't hold his lunch and hoseok gets close to losing his. He knew he had to make the night better than this he had to turn it around somehow. Maybe if his stomach is calm enough he can clean off his face and hands and comfort his hobi.

Yoongi decided he was done no matter how much his stomach argued with that fact. Once he felt steady enough he rose from the ground and flushed the toilet. He limps over to the sink, his legs were half asleep from sitting on the floor for so long. He washed his hands of the putrid sick and his face. Feeling better already simply due to the fact that he was cleaner. Then he limped over to his boyfriend his legs beginning to wake up on the way. He squatted down and gave a comforting hug to hobi. Hobi felt yoongi's warmth cover his entire back like a warm loving blanket. Hoseok began to forget about his panicking stomach. Dissolving into yoongi's warmth. They stayed like that until hoseoks stomach completely calmed down. As soon as it did hoseok turned around and held the other. They sat on the floor in silence holding each other. The silence was eventually broken by a banging on the door. Ignoring it for a moment knowing it was probably namjoon He asked his hobi. "how is your stomach feeling?" yoongi says looking into the other's sleepy eyes. *hears banging again* " Much better" hoseok answers Sweetly smiling. " do you feel well enough to go on our date?" yoongi asked. " do you?" hobi replied back. " yes, yes I do" yoongi lied straight through his teeth but he refused to let this night end without the date. * banging and distant hyungs yelled out by joon could be heard in the background* " great, I do too" hobi answers with a smile. "Then it's settled," yoongi says getting up off the floor and heading to the door While hobi heads for the room upstairs to take a quick shower and grab something nicer to wear. Yoongi opened the door mid-knock. Namjoon still stood there with his arm up in a knocking position.

" hyung" namjoon says. "you guys ok? you two have taken a while." namjoon says concerned. " we were a little sick but we're ok now. Hoseok is getting ready for the date and I'm about to do the same." yoongi says calmly. yoongi moves to the side of the door frame to allow namjoon to enter the room. He sat and waited don't the couch. Yoongi was excited again the date was back on and his hobi was ok. he ran upstairs to go get ready. slowing down just at the top when his stomach felt a little angry from the movement. He entered the bathroom. hoseok was in the other part of the room taking a shower he turned off the lights and began brushing his teeth in the dark. He had to keep his migraine in place. if he could keep it in place then he could do the same for his stomach. After all, his migraine was what was making the ride much worse than it was anyways. He still felt a little dizzy from it even now. He was brushing his tongue when he accidentally made himself gag. Pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth he gagged wetly over the sink. A bit sick hitting the sink bottom. Hobi must have heard the gag because he yelled back from the shower. " are you, ok love?" " I'm fine just brushing my teeth. yoongi answers. hoping to not make hobi worry. His stomach was angrier but completely empty now. He cleaned the sick and rinsed his mouth.

---Timeskip ---

hobi and yoongi had finished geting ready for the date. Hobi was feeling good and from the way, yoongi was staring at him he must have been looking good too. namjoon gave the two a compliment on the way to the car. Happy to see that his members found love in each other. All the other members suspected they'd end up in a relationship. Joon even joked about it with Jungkook once. It was nice to see the two happy and in love. yoongi wishes he could feel the love that obviously infects this car but the most he feels is his stomach turning and shifting nervously about riding with namjoon again. this time though his migraine had only worsened he managed to survive the ride. it helped greatly that namjoon drove much smoother as well. He just had been nervous when he first drove them. They'd arrived at the restaurant. My stomachs are still intact. yoongi's head was pounding but absolutely nothing was going to stop him tonight. They were seated in a secluded area. The waiter brought over forks and knives and asked for a drink selection. If yoongi's head wasn't a mess he'd ask for a sojo but he was he no state for a buzz. The only buzz he was having tonight was the buzzing pain in his head. The two talked about their day over light candles. Hoseok takes about the new dance moves he's been learning and teaching. He discusses how the album is coming along explaining that it'll be out pretty soon.

The have a good time

yoongi gets worse

hobi takes care of him

hobi struggles again too help and namjoon steps in the hlp the two

[spn-rewrites]

01x18 (PART 1)

Season One Episode Eighteen: Something Wicked Comes This Way

part 2 part 3

Word Count: 2k

Summary: a text from John, an empty playground, and a rotted window sill

Late last night, a text came through one of Dean’s many burner phones. No words. Just a set of coordinates that, after looking, lead you to Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dean insisted you left immediately, barely letting you get a shower in before he started honking the horn on the Impala, waiting impatiently for you. On the drive, you and Sam did your usual research but everything came up empty. Much to Dean’s displeasure. 

“We checked everything, LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers. There isn’t a single red flag,” Sam explained after Dean questioned your sureness for the third time this hour alone. 

“Are we sure the coordinates are right?” You asked from the backseat. You had the map in your lap, looking right in the middle of Wisconsin. You saw the text. You knew they were right. But, maybe John typed them in wrong. 

“We double-checked. Dad wouldn’t send coordinates if it wasn’t important,” Dean argued. You rolled your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see from the rearview mirror and then looked out into the empty nothingness of the state of Illinois. 

“I’m telling you Dean, we looked. There is nothing but a steaming pile of nothing. If dad’s sending us hunting for something, I don’t know what.” 

“Well, maybe he’s gonna meet us there,” Dean suggested. That made you snort out load, causing both the boys to glance back at you. 

“Like he’s been so easy to get a hold of lately?” 

“You know you’re a real smartass, right?” Dean eyed you through the mirror in between his glances at the road. You shrugged your shoulders and then mesmerized yourself in the corn fields again. Sam never brought up the whole ring of fire around Mordechai Murdoch thing and neither did you. There were a lot of things that you and Sam haven’t talked about. 

“I’m sure there’s something in Fitchburg worth killing,” Dean added. 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“Because I’m the oldest and that means, I’m always right.” 

Sam chuckled and shook his head. You could see the corner of his smile turning up as he looked at his brother. “No it doesn’t.”

“It totally does.” 

+

Glasglow’s Lunch was right in downtown Fitchburg. The main street was busy with cars and foot traffic but Dean was needing coffee, and you’ve never said no to that before. You sat with Sam on the hood of the Impala. He leaned his back against it, looking out at the park across the street. It was eerily empty for this time of day, you noticed. You had your heels on the front rim of the car and as Dean crossed the road, three coffee’s in hand, he yelled. “Not the shoes on the car, please?” 

You smiled and jumped off the car, grabbing the coffee he had tucked between his arm and chest. “Thank you,” you said. He returned the smile, although his was entirely too forced. Almost like he was mocking you. 

He handed Sam his coffee and said, “the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky but other than that, nobody has heard of anything weird going on.” You nodded your head, figuring as much, but Sam was still too focused on the empty playground. 

“It’s 10 after 4,” Sam said, catching Dean’s attention as he started to head back toward the driver's side of the car. “What’s wrong with this picture?” Sam nodded toward the playground. Of course, he noticed it, too. 

“School’s out, isn’t it?” Dean asked. 

“This place should be crawling with kids right now,” you said. Sam nodded in agreement and the three of you decided to head over to the park and talk to the one mother and daughter that were there. 

You approached her with Dean at your side. The mother barely noticed you two walked up until Dean spoke to her. “Quiet out here, huh?” 

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” she said, going back to her book, barely a glance at you. 

“Why is that?” You asked. 

“You know, kids getting sick. It’s a terrible thing.” 

“How many?” Dean asked. You watched as the woman’s daughter played on the yellow metal jungle gym. She had pin-straight black hair held up in a ponytail, a pink bow holding it all together. Her fair skin with blushing pink cheeks. The spitting image of her mother sitting in front of you now. 

“Just five or six, but serious. Hospital serious,” she told you. Her voice got quiet and she looked over at her daughter almost longingly, hopeful that her daughter would not end up like her classmates. “A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it’s catching.” 

+

You relayed the conversation to Sam, who had been waiting in the car doing more research in case he missed something. He was always double and triple-checking. Dean headed for the hospital without a second thought. All of the kids were being kept at Dale County Memorial Hospital and in order to get any information, it was time to play dress-up. Your dress was wrinkled from being kept in the trunk, but you tried to straighten it out with your hands. 

You passed the brothers their fake I.Ds and kept yours in your small purse. Sam scoffed when he read his. “This says bikini inspector on it, I can’t use this,” he hissed. 

“Why not? They won’t look that closely,” Dean told him. You were both confident enough to pull off these charades in your sleep. You had been doing it for years, but with Sam having been out of practice, he was skeptical. 

“It’s all about being confident,” you told him and pushed him toward the nurse’s desk. He tripped over his feet and had to steady himself on the counter. “Hi, I’m Jerry Kaplan, Center of Disease Control,” he said. He briefly held up his I.D, but not long enough for her to really look at it. “Can you direct me to the pediatric ward please?”

The nurse looked at him skeptically, but gave him the directions anyway and Sam thanked her before walking away. When he reached you and Dean, Dean whispered to him. “I told you it would work.” You had to laugh, but Sam didn’t find it funny. He just lead you up the stairs and to the kids. 

As you walked down the hallway, an older lady caught your eye. She had big, white hair, that covered her shoulders and hung down the back of the wheelchair she was sitting in. Something about her was ominous. It made you stop and stare and you didn’t know why. She slowly turned around and looked at you. Her eyes were almost white, her pupils becoming cloudy with cataracts. You held your breath as you looked up at the wall. An upside-down crucifix hanging next to the closed window. 

“Y/N,” Sam hissed, catching your attention. You looked at him and he nodded to you to follow him. 

You met with the head pediatrician at the nurse's station, Dr. Hydaker You thanked him for meeting with you on such short notice, and followed him down the hall. "I was just about to call the CDC myself," he told you. "How did you find out anyway?"

"Oh, some G.P, I forget his name, he called Atlanta and must have beat you to the punch," Dean explained. You followed the doctor all the way to the ICU. Through the big glass windows, you could see all the kids hooked up to machines and oxygen, lying lifeless in the bed.

"You have six cases?" You asked, turning your back to the boys and watching the children breathe. So soft you could barely see their chest moving.

"Yeah, in five weeks," Dr. Hydaker said. "At first we thought it was bacterial pneumonia, not that newsworthy. But now, they're not responding to antibiotics and their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out."

A nurse called out the doctor's name, running up with a chart in her hand. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Sam asked. You turned around to see Dr. Hydaker sign the chart and hand it back to the pretty blonde nurse.

"Nothing this severe," he replied.

"The way it spreads - that's a new one for me," the nurse added, taking back the chart and holding it to her chest.

"What do you mean?" You inquired.

"It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another."

"Do you mind if we interview some of the kids?" Dean asked. That might have been a good first step if any of them were conscious enough to talk. From the window, they all looked practically dead already. "What about the parents?" Dean asked next. Dr. Hydaker agreed and gave you the name of the most recent admission.

The youngest daughter, and most recent, was Bethany and her older sister Mary. Their dad was sitting outside of the ICU with bags under his eyes and sleep in his winkles. "We really appreciate you talking with us," you told him. He barely nodded.

"Mary's the oldest, right? She came down with it first?" Sam asked, getting the facts straight.

Mary's dad nodded. "She's 13. Then Bethany the next night."

"Within 24 hours?"

"I guess," he said. You exchanged a look with Dean as Sam talked. 24 hours was a short amount of time for a child to come down with pneumonia. "Look, I already went over this with the doctor."

"We just have a few more questions if you don't mind," Dean said to keep him in his seat just a little bit longer. The dad was rubbing his hands on his jeans, presumably getting the sweat off his palms. He was anxious to get back to his daughters. "How do you think they got pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?"

"We think it was an open window," he said.

"Both times?" You piped in.

"The first time, I can't remember. But the second time for sure. I know I closed it when I put Bethany to bed," he explained. Dean asked if maybe Bethany opened it herself and her dad replied, "It was a second-story window, no ledge, no one else could have."

You excused the sick girls' dad and walked back down the hall the way that you came and when Sam tried to voice his skepticism, Dean shut it down. "Look, Dad sent us here for a reason. I think we might be barking up the right tree."

"I'm betting it'll be a while before that guy goes home," you chimed in, raising your eyebrows at the boys. Dean smirked and the admiration in his eyes was almost too much to bear. He looked like he could have hugged you.

You weren't finding much in the house. Dean was running the EMF reader throughout the room Bethany was taken out of and Sam had a blue light detector to check for any handprints that you couldn't see with the naked eye. The house was quiet, empty, and errie. You walked over to the window that faced out to the street and watched as the cars drove by. Your eyes dropped down to the sill. "Guys," you called slowly, unsure of what you were even looking at. What it could mean.

They were by your side within seconds, the EMF reader no longer making noise. All three of you were now looking at the window sill, where a big, black, rotted handprint was burned into the wood. "What the hell leaves a handprint like that?" Sam mumbled.

[wonderingwendy]

May 17, 2023 and lots to wonder about. I wondered about why there’s been development on the Amalfi coast given its inaccessibility - was it the monks, did it start with a port at Sorrento and expand?

In brief, the Greeks favoured it because the rock formations appeared to be home to their mythical gods/creatures, the Roman nobles used it as a vacation getaway, then the Amalfians became rivals to Venetians for ship making and exploration to the East - hence why Amalfi was known for paper making. Earthquakes and a multi year plague shut everything down in the 14th century and it wasn’t until the king in Naples ordered the construction of a road in the 19th century that the Amalfi coast became primarily a vacation destination again. And it’s a popular one for sure.

We visited during early May with terrible weather and wondered how crowded the summer season in sunshine could get. In any case, we were happy to be tucked away up in our villa in Pogerolo except when we had to make a plan to leave in bad weather.

Given that it was forecasted to continue pouring rain, we left Villa Maria via taxi rather than boat or bus and had a very skilled driver take us to Salerno. We all wondered about their background as a local who spoke little English, knew everyone and every turn enroute - we even saw where their mommy and poppy lived. Best €140 ever spent.

In Salerno, we replenished our cash, recovered from carsickness, bought more train tickets and even found the right track for our fast train leaving at 3 pm which arrived late not surprisingly for Italian trains. As a result we missed our connection, delaying our arrival into Tropea until after 9 pm. We followed the cute little sidewalk lit route and met Katarina at Don Carlos rooms. She and her partner airbnb three quaint rooms in his grandfather’s building with a gorgeous roof top terrace for breakfast.

The next morning, Tropea did not disappoint with sunshine, turquoise water and rock cliffs.

It is still recovering economically from multiple earthquakes and tourism is definitely helping.

We had a train booked for 4 pm but given yesterday’s delay, we left on a earlier train but not before grabbing a local arancini ball each (mine was red onion stuffed) and tasting tartufo, a stuffed gelato ball rolled in a coating (we shared a very sweet chocolate one). I won’t say anymore but neither dish is likely to be repeated.

We spent an interesting two hours in Villa S. Giovanni awaiting our train ferry to Sicily. The guys watched the traffic chaos near the port while Denise and I shopped for breakfast and snack basics as we were again arriving in Taormina around 10 pm.

I wondered about taking the train on a ferry - really?! But after watching our train loaded onto the ferry in two sections, we passed the time doing a crossword, eating snacks and maybe a tetrapak of wine was opened. It was a gorgeous nighttime taxi ride way up to our apartment on Leonardo da Vinci Drive.

[f1]

Button calls his first NASCAR stint embarrassing after finishing 18th at COTA | NASCAR

Jenson Button recovered from a poor start and endured heat exhaustion and contact with another F1 champion to finish 18th on his NASCAR Cup debut. The 2009 world champion qualified 24th for last weekend’s race at the Circuit of the Americas. It is the first of three rounds he has entered in this year’s championship, alongside his participation in the Le Mans 24 Hours driving a modified NASCAR in the ‘Garage 56’ category. Button endured a tough start to his first race in a Ford Mustang entered by Stewart-Haas. “At first, it was terrible,” he admitted. “I mean, I must’ve been last by the end of it, and I was just like, ‘Everyone, go. I just need to drive and find a rhythm.’” “The first stint was really bad,” he continued. “It was embarrassing for me.” He soon pitted for tyres in an attempt to improve his car’s handling and have the chance to run free of traffic. Button finished 18th in the 39-car field “I was like, ‘Alright guys, we need to pit, freshen the tyres and I need some air. I need some fresh air.’ I got that. The pace was good, consistency was good. I was really happy, and passed a few cars, which was nice. “We got a little bit unlucky with the Safety Car because it was just two laps before our window. [We] pitted, then the next stint was mayhem. We also made a couple of changes that just didn’t work. Big oversteer – went from the car feeling great to really difficult to drive.” The winner of 15 grands prix admitted to took time to adjust to the frantic and physical nature of NASCAR racing. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free “I’ve never gone through a corner two wide, so often. And trying to place my car in the right place – I just got it wrong every time. Button had to pit twice to cool down “Normally, if you’re a little bit slow through a corner, nobody tries to overtake you from the outside – because they’re not going to make it all the way on the next one. But here they do, because they get a wheel inside for the next one, and if you turn in, you turn around.” Button tangled with fellow F1 champion Kimi Raikkonen, who also took part in yesterday’s race, and finished 29th after lining up two places ahead of Button. “I also had a massive whack from Kimi and it fell off after that,” said Button. “The car wasn’t quite right. Every time I turned in, the rear tyres would chatter, then immediately to oversteer.” He felt happier with the car towards the end of the race but struggled with the heat inside the closed cockpit as the 75-lap race took three-and-a-half hours to complete. “It was really difficult, but toward the end we made some good calls stopping and putting on fresh tyres,” said Button. “I enjoyed the last three restarts – got good placement and good overtaking moves from the outside. “Finished 18th after almost stopping because I had heat exhaustion. It was so hot. I don’t have a fan in my seat, which really didn’t help me too much. It was so hot, I thought I was going to faint in the car. So, I stopped twice for a minute. They put ice on me, gave me loads of water, and I went back out. “I was so close to getting out of the car because I thought I was going to faint. I must’ve drank eight, nine bottles of water during the race. The team kept me calm, and it’s the reason why we got a good result in the end. So, I was happy.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free Other motorsport Browse all other motorsport articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

[justkeepdancing-nemo]

Finding Nemo: How To Land

“I’ve said several times that I’m afraid of falling but not landing. And the difference between falling and landing is that landing means that you can take off again...So, no matter how desperate the situation is, if we choose landing instead of falling, choose not to give up, and just land, we’re ready to fly again.” -Min Yoongi 

**

Summary: Robbie rats out Nemo to Marlin. They go on a road trip to bring Nemo home. Takes place December 14. tw: anxiety, depression

Part One: Failing Nemo Part Two: Something Else 

@robbie-ryeo 

@moon-yeongtae 

@baenxietydad 

Marlin x Robbie Texts

Marlin: [deleted] idk why I’m bother—

Marlin: have you heard from Nam-min

Marlin: Olaf called and said he skipped his exams and isn’t in the dorms. He hasn’t answered me

Marlin: what do you know?

Robbie: Im going to assume this is Marlin.

Robbie: Hello to you too

Robbie: Ugh, he left, though and he told me about it. I know where he is but I was hoping he would be back by now :(

Marlin: And nobody thought to tell me my son disappeared aiya this is great, I bet Tae knows too, eo?

Marlin: Tell me where he is. 

Robbie: he's actually with Tae I could take you there. 

Robbie: to be honest I want to go get him too

Marlin: of course he’s wife Tae, who else would encourage him to run away at least you’re more responsible 🙄

Marlin: So it’s far away, mm 

Robbie: yeah they went camping. Where are you I can come pick you up.

Marlin: In town, near the market

Robbie: I'll be right there

ROBBIE:

Spending the last what felt like 17 hours in the car with Marlin Bae had not been ideal. It wasn’t terrible, but the offhand comments about his driving were…annoying to say the least. Was it really so bad to obey traffic laws? Yes, he understood that perhaps they were in a rush because seeing Nemo and making sure he was okay, those things were important, but if they died on the way to the campsite who did that benefit? 

Anyway, they were here now and Robbie pulled into the nearest parking space and shut off the engine. The guilt bubbled inside of him as he wondered how furious Nemo would be with him when he saw him approaching with his father of all people. Maybe Robbie should’ve kept his mouth shut, but he was worried same as Marlin and well, anxiety did things to a person. Nemo would eventually understand. 

Maybe. 

“I think that’s Tae’s truck over there,” Robbie said, pointing to the familiar farm truck. “They can’t be that far–” 

Robbie abruptly stopped talking as he spotted Nemo. Nemo hadn’t seen him yet, but suddenly this felt like a much worse idea than it had two minutes ago. Nemo was clearly fine and smiling and—fuck he was going to hate Robbie.

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol was angry but it was less about Nemo skipping exams and running away than it was about…Nemo not talking to him. What was all that bullshit about how they were a team and in it together, huh? He let Nemo work instead of him handling it all with a second human job because Nemo insisted. But school, work, his Hollow duties, his social life…maybe something or multiple something’s had to give. He worried about as much. But always thought Nam-min would come to him and talk about it. 

He buried that anger because it was right to feel but wrong to express, and simply said. “Nam-min ah. Did you not think I should know my son is skipping town?”

Because look. The real root of his anger wasn’t that Nam-min must not be taking to school well, because he didn’t expect his son to be his mother. It was a little that Nemo didn’t tell him and a little that Nemo ran off and let Olaf tell him his son was missing. He was an adult and could make these choices. But an “Appa I’m dropping out and need a few days camping with Tae to clear my head” would have sufficed. Maybe he’d try to talk him out of it but he wouldn’t force Nemo to take his exams if he didn’t want to. 

Was he worried he would?

“You really should make your escape plans a little more logically.” He gently, sarcastically chastised him, moving to sit down next to him. 

He looked around at Tae and Robbie and sighed. “Both of you, forget how to speak Korean.”

NEMO: The first few hours into escape, Nemo felt amazing. Weightless. Free. For the first time in moons, there wasn’t something that he was going to have to rush to, or come from, or do. He was just going to curl up with Tae in the back of the truck and become a stranger in the middle of nowhere. He even turned off his phone, after fixing things with Robbie (kind of.)

And things really were good. That first night, they nicked into a gas station for snacks and cheap coffee. They listened to albums and talked and then went for a walk ‘round the campsite, just a short one, before falling asleep in the truck just like they talked about.

When the next morning came though, the pit in Nemo’s stomach had returned. His brain kept buzzing, telling him he was making a huge mistake. He was trying to ignore it though, because what was the alternative?

He and Tae were gonna go make smores– yeah, this early in the morning, why not?-- when Nemo’s choices caught up to him.

He spun around, eyes going wide. At first, his brain shortcircuited. How was Appa–? That didn’t make sense! There was no way he would even know that Nemo was gone!

Then, he saw Robbie lingering over his shoulder and everything clicked into place.

Nemo, at first, ignored Appa entirely as anger twisted his features. “You told him?!” Nemo shouted past Appa, staring at Robbie. “What the fuck, Robbie?!” 

ROBBIE: 

Robbie’s first instinct was to duck behind a tree as Marlin started casually strolling up to Nemo without a care in the world. Nemo wasn’t scary, obviously–Robbie loved him very much and he was so sweet and cute–but also he was a little scary and Robbie was actually sort of…impressed? Terrified? Of what Marlin was doing. It was probably all of the gnawing guilt making Robbie feel this way, honestly, and it was warranted. 

Nemo proved this when he immediately turned toward Robbie with rage in his eyes and yelled. 

And yes, there were definitely situations where Robbie would never betray Nemo like this, but this situation was a little bit different. Nemo was doing a very big thing right now–a very big thing that could potentially have very real consequences or spiral out of had very quickly if Nemo was left alone to overthink things–and telling Marlin was the right thing to do. 

Unfortunately. 

So, when Nemo yelled at him, Robbie didn’t cower or make himself smaller or let himself succumb to his guilt. Instead, with a sad look in his eyes (because hurting Nemo was never good or easy or something he was proud of), he just nodded. “I’m sorry Nemo, but he was so worried about you. We are both worried about you.” 

NEMO: 

Nemo wanted to shove Robbie. 

He wanted to kick Robbie.

He wanted to use his wind to send a blast of damp leaves into his face. 

All these cruel fantasies swirled in him as his fists curled, and the wind picked up and whipped at Nemo’s own hair. But just because Nemo wanted to do these things– punish his boyfriend for ratting him out, for ambushing him, for caring– that didn’t mean that it would make him feel good, or even get him out of the trouble he’d got himself into. No matter the size of the tantrum, he’d been caught.  And so as quickly as the wind picked up, it died, the air stale and flat. 

Nemo’s face flattened out too. He sent a glance toward Tae. “I’ll be back,” he mumbled. 

Then he stalked past Appa. “We can talk over here,” he said. 

He didn’t look at Robbie again. 

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol followed after Nemo, his expression blank save for a concerned furrow of his brow. 

“Nemo,” He began coolly. “Just one question. Can you even explain yourself?”

Or was he well and truly off the deep end, eh?

NEMO: 

As Nemo walked away, he carried his anger with him. It was a hot and comforting thing– bigger and easier to deal with than Nemo’s pain, his guilt, his worry. But it was also as fragile and thin as a balloon. With just one sentence, Appa destroyed it. 

Can you even explain yourself? 

Nemo couldn’t. 

And just like that– his anger collapsed in on itself into all the rest of those things, the things that Nemo had been running from. His face screwed up, and his lip trembled, and he knew that he’d disappointed Appa. He’d wasted the opportunities that Appa worked so hard to give him. He was ungrateful. He was a loser. He was stupid. 

Nemo’s shoulders hunched over, his hands pressing over his face as he began to cry. “N-no,” he admitted. “No, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” 

He was talking about way more than just explaining himself. Right now, it felt like Nemo couldn’t do anything. 

MARLIN:

Rightly or perhaps wrongly, he preferred this version of emotional Nemo to the red hot angry Nemo. Angry Nemo lashed out and left little room for getting to the root of an issue. When Nemo broke down like this he was honest and Marlin could actually figure out how to help him. 

“Okay. Can you tell me anything about why you didn’t take your exams? And why didn’t you tell me uni was hard for you, eh?”

NEMO: 

“I’m sorry,” Nemo said miserably, still crying and hunched, hiding his face from view. Appa standing there, talking to him so calmly, only told Nemo that his thoughts were right. Appa was disappointed in him. He had failed, miserably. This was shameful. He was nothing like– 

 “I’m sorry. Y-you worked so hard to help me afford everything and I didn’t want to disappoint you. I wanted to be like her, but I’m not. I’m not smart. I just– it’s so much– I can’t finish anything. I’m always behind everyone. I should be good at it. Everyone else can do it and isn’t like this.” Nemo rubbed his arm over his red, puffy face. “B-but I can’t and I–I dunno why.” 

Why had Finn and Louie been fine? Why was Mim and Hunter and everyone else in his fellowship programme so smart? Why was it just Nemo who couldn’t finish the reading and who was so stressed and who couldn’t sleep and was in so much pain? 

MARLIN:

“Hey, no, none of that. I don’t care if you finish uni or not, I only care that you do what you want to do regarding the issue. I never expected you to be like your eomma.” Mu-yeol said gently. “You wanted to go to uni so I worked to make it happen for you. It’s okay that you’re struggling to adjust but it’s not okay that you’re handling it by just running away.”

He always did this. Sometimes it was maybe the right decision, but this wasn’t one of those sometimes.

Then again, what had Mu-yeol done when faced with his guilt, his shame, and his fear? He fled Korea and came here. They weren’t so different.

“There’s no such thing as a smart person, Nam-min. There’s people who are very good at certain things, but there’s no smart people. Surgeons and rocket scientists are just as capable of being complete dickheads as anybody else outside of their fields. Your area of skill is in dance and science, maybe not other areas uni is making you tap into and that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a stupid person.”

NEMO:

Appa talked very kindly– kinder than Nemo knew he deserved. 

And it was this kindness that made him cry a little harder. Appa was probably right, because Appa was right about most things. Wasn’t that how kids always felt about their parents? It’s what made standing up to them so hard sometimes. And it made leaving them hard too. For this entire semester, Nemo had tried to do his best, to be an adult without Appa’s help, but the truth was he didn’t think he’d been ready. 

“S-so what am I supposed to do?” Nemo asked– wanting desperately to be told the answer, for once. He’d really tried to figure it out himself, and he’d failed. Couldn’t Appa tell him the answer, just one more time?

MARLIN:

“Right. I think it’s very obvious you have three options. I doubt you’ll be allowed to make up your final exams, so one of these three things is going to happen and it’s up to you which feels right for you.” Mu-yeol said gently, reaching forward to pat Nemo’s hair. 

“One. You retake all your classes next term. Full time student. You stay in the dorms or you can move home and I’ll pay the housing contract severance fee. You might lose your scholarship but it’s okay. I think I can afford it next semester. Two; you drop out and come home. We can try uni again if and when you’re ready. Three; I don’t think they’ll let you stay in the dorms if you stay in school but drop down to part-time, but, maybe they will? If so you can choose to come home or dorm, drop down to part-time hours, and if you lose your scholarship I’ll cover it.”

A beat. 

“Also, you’re nineteen. I don’t expect you to have your life figured out or even know what’s going to be the right decision for you a month, six months, a year from now. But one of those options is the right one for you for the now. You have to pick which one, Nam-minnie, I won’t force you to leave or stay in school one way or the other. I presented you a middle ground of going part-time if neither staying nor leaving feels right. You don’t have to decide immediately either. Sooner is better. But you can think it over some.”

NEMO:

All three options stressed Nemo out.

He’d wanted to quit uni about 24 hours ago. He was just so exhausted, so exhausted that the only thing that appealed to him was what he’d done– gotten the fuck away from the campus, disappeared and become a nobody in some sparse campsite far far away. But of course, deep down, he knew it wasn’t what he really wanted. He wanted a break. He wanted help. He wanted a fresh chance. He wanted all of his professors to tell him he didn’t have to take the exams (this was super unrealistic). 

If he dropped out, he’d never be a dancer, though. He knew that. A fairy like him needed the connections uni could bring. So he didn’t want to drop out.

Full time filled his brain with bees all over again, bringing back the panic so big, he could choke on it. Thinking about it made him wanna hop in Tae’s truck and drive even further away.

So– part time. Part time it felt like was the only actual option, even though he didn’t know what that meant or would look like, and if he had to leave the dorms– which was the only part of uni he’d really enjoyed so far– he’d be so disappointed. 

“Okay,” Nemo uttered in a small, defeated voice. “I’ll…think about it, I guess.” For the first time, he glanced back up at Appa, his eyes still puffy, leaking tears. “I really am sorry,” he said one more time. 

MARLIN:

“You have to communicate with me when you’re having a hard time. I can’t help you if I don’t know you need help,” Mu-yeol said gently, resting a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. 

He sighed. 

“Since I know you aren’t missing and are safe. Do you…want to come home? Or no?”

NEMO:

Confusion fluttered across Nemo’s face. The way this usually worked was– Appa took him home. It was that simple. Whether he had run away, gotten lost, or had to escape from his grandparents, Appa appearing always meant that Nemo had to get in a car or on a train and that was it. It could be comforting, in a way. No matter how nutty things got, Appa would arrive, and Nemo knew he’d be safe.

He’d never been given a choice before. Then again, he was 19 now. 

It still, sort of, felt like a trap. He knew what the right answer was. If he went back now, he could maybe take one of his exams– his contemporary dance exam. Which was just a paper, but it was a paper he’d written the most of. Maybe he could finish it, or turn it in unfinished, and explain. It was weird– this had always been an option, Nemo knew that, but only with Appa here did things feel easier to think about. Was it always going to be that way? No matter how old Nemo got? 

He still hesitated. “Home,” he said, after that beat. “..Tae needs to return the truck anyway.” 

MARLIN:

He nodded slowly and held an arm open for Nemo to curl up to his side. 

“Okay. Sounds good— and you tell me when you decide what we’re doing moving forward, okay?” Mu-yeol said, voice even as the calm spot in a river. 

“You’re an adult now, this is the part of life where you make the decisions. I’m just here.”

NEMO: 

But what if I don’t want to be? 

Nemo didn’t say it outloud. He probably didn’t have to, as he accepted Appa’s hug. The entire time they’d been talking, he’d wanted one desperately. He’d wanted one, actually, since he’d gotten injured, but there was a voice in his head scolding him, telling him, You’re too old for that. Too old to ask for help, too old to rely on Appa, too old to miss him. 

“I don’t feel like an adult,” Nemo confessed this, at least. “I dunno how to be one.” 

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol smiled sadly and played with the hair at the nape of Nemo’s neck, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“I don’t either, kid.” He admitted. “I’ve been faking this whole adult thing for twenty-three years.”

Some years better than others. 

“You’ll get there too, as you get older.”

NEMO: 

Would he? 

Nemo doubted it. He wasn’t even sure he believed Appa, who was always the biggest and most adult-like person in a room, at least to Nemo. He didn’t think that would ever change. Even when Appa was depressed, didn’t Nemo still expect him to know everything? 

The future just felt like a complex problem that Nemo was never going to be smart enough to solve. That’s why he kept running from it. He had to stop though. If he ever wanted to get smarter – braver – more capable – to be anything like Appa. 

After a few more flits in which Nemo lingered in Appa’s arms and sniffled and wiped at his cheeks, he finally pulled away. It was time to go, he knew that. He trudged back toward Tae and Robbie, and only when he glanced up from the wet grass did he see Robbie looking at him – he’d probably been watching Nemo the whole time. 

Nemo’s face went red and he looked away. He probably should apologize to Robbie too, but he was too ashamed. 

And so he walked past him again and went to Tae. “We gotta head back,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” 

TAE: 

Tae immediately opened his arms and pulled Nemo in, turning so they were sort of hug-shuffling back to the truck. "Hey you didn't drag me anywhere I didn't want to be, okay? I love you."