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skele-bunny · 4 months ago

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Thank you for the post :) Have any more Calida content? Maybe with some more family stuff?

You're welcome 🩷 I'm always down for more step dad Aether content!!

Over The Phone. (No CW) Aether/Dewdrop

CW - NONE

Tags: Step-Dad Aether, Baby/Pregnancy talk, sex talk, trans male Dewdrop, nonsexual lactation

Characters: Aether, Dewdrop, Calida (Kit), Mountain, Misc Ghouls.

(Divider by @ wrathofrats !)

Dewdrop had a ritual after rituals at venues. He'd hand his guitar over, go to the dressing room and quickly strip himself back into his sweat pants and one of his many stolen shirts from Aether's dresser he took before leaving on tour, then he'd be glued to his phone for the rest of the night as much as he could. Scrolling through messages and photos sent to him from the previously mentioned with their daughter.

He hated being so far away from his family, but as she got older, it became somewhat easier especially now that Aether was retired. The fire ghoul would laugh, showing the rest of the pack and Papa pictures and messages of their shenanigans.

"Oh my Lucifer, shut up! Is she holding your guitar?!" Cumulus swooned, looking at the picture Aether had sent of Calida holding the much too big acoustic that had Dew's initials. "That's adorable!"

"Tell me about it!" Dew laughed, turning back around in his seat as the van continued towards the hotel. "She's growing up so much, I hate it."

Mountain leaned over, gently nudging his mate's head with his nose. "We have to put her in an ice box so she can stay little forever."

"Tell me about it... But! Wouldn't it be so fun to have rehearsals with her? You should see how excited she gets when me and Aeth play for her."

The earth ghoul simply laughed, pressing a kiss before leaning back. "Wasn't too long ago you pushed her out in the back of the bus, literally... I still can't believe you bit Zephyr."

This time it was Phantom's turn to speak. "Wait, you had Calida on the tour bus?"

"And when did you bite Zeph?" Swiss added, holding an astonished look. "What did that lovebird do to you?"

Turning around in his seat again, Dew smiled as he held back laughter. "Yeah, I had Calida while on tour, back when I was still with Papa Terzo. My water broke suddenly, no one had a clue what to do and I surely didn't either. So I just—" Dew mimicked pushing something. "Pop! Baby. I bit Zephyr like a week after while on the bus because I was asleep, and they were trying to readjust the pillow under my head. Post partum me thought xe were trying to take her so I... Bit em'."

Finally laughter overtook Dewdrop, which caused a chain in the van. They arrived at the hotel, Dew shuffling his jacket on to flip up the hood as he had no desire to fully glamour his horns. Taking time unloading themselves and getting keys, Dew entered the room next to Mountain—their bags already sat inside by the stage hands.

"Is it okay if I take the bathroom first?" Mountain tilted his head, kicking his shoes off immediately to let his hooves come back out with a few bone crunches.

The fire ghoul shrugged. "Go for it, I gotta call home anyways."

"Have fun when E.T phone home." Mount teased, grabbing his backpack and closing the bathroom door.

Flopping himself on the bed furthest away from the air conditioner unit, Dew flipped on his phone again and pressing speed dial. The screen showed a picture of Aether asleep with their sleeping infant on his chest, holding a stuffed banana toy. It rang for about a minute before the other end picked up, and a moment of the loading the screen.

"Mana!" A high pitch voice yelled, instantly snatching the phone away. Black hair took over the camera accompanied with red eyes, but the biggest smile. "Mana! Mana!!"

"Hi baby!" Dew yelled back, sitting against the headboard. "I missed you so much!"

"Me too!! Oh, oh, look what me and Daba did!" Calida smiled so wide, putting the phone down to hold up a drawing of three crude stick figures that perfectly resembled the little family.

"No way! You and Daba did that?!"

"Yeah! And, and I got to see Auntle Mist and Auntle Birdy today, too!" Finally in the background, Aether came into view, waving but staying silent to let Calida have her moment. "They took me to the playground, and then we had nap time, then we watched Mulan again!"

Readjusting a pillow to be a prop, Dew placed the phone down while he leaned over the bed to open up his own bag. "That's amazing, Calida! Sounds like you had a busy day, did you have fun?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Oh, good!" Dew came back into view, holding a toy still in the box. "Look what Mana found in the store today."

A loud, ear piercing shrill came over the speakers, Dewdrop laughing as he seen Aether quickly cover his ears from the siren call. "Is that My Life?!"

"It is! I know you wanted the food set, so when I seen it I just had to get it!"

Calida's eyes went wide, gasping. "Mana, I have to go tell Aunty Sunny! Don't go, okay?!"

"Okay love, I won't! Pinky promise."

The kit smiled, giving the phone to her father as she ran out of the room. Aether waited before giving a look. "There is no way you dropped, how much?— On a toy set?"

"Hmm..." Dew laughed a little, looking away as he had been caught. "Fifty-seven dollars..."

Aether went to say something before Dewdrop interrupted. "Ah! Ah! You can't yell at me for it! You bought that girl a fucking tricycle! I don't wanna hear it!"

"Ugh, you're just awful." Aether laughed, leaning back into the bed and holding his phone up. "How was the show?"

Finally, Dewdrop's facade broke, glaring at the camera and growling as he gently placed the toy down. "Fuckin' terrible. Tell me how my guitar cut during my solo in Watcher?! Not only that, but my last siren? Yeah? Cut! Again!"

"Yikes... I think that song is just cursed at this point. We've all had so many issues playing it."

"You're telling me." Dew sighed, rubbing his face in irritation. "Not only that, Phantom fell and busted his ass after missing a step so he's got a pretty welt right on his left ass cheek. Plus, I don't know what you did to me before I left, but— Wait, Calida's still gone right?"

The quintessence looked up before confirming. "Mmhm."

"Okay, I don't know what you did to me, but my tits have never hurt so much before. Feels like when I'd get swollen from not pumping." Dew mumbled, lifting his shirt to reveal he had put nursing pads on to stop the very slow leakage he was experiencing, turning a bit to show the swelling.

Aether whistled with a grimace, sucking through his teeth. "I'm not sure, I'm sorry love. Might just be galactorrhea, have you been... You know, letting people suck?"

Dew shook his head, now massaging his right side, wincing as pain shot through. "No, even I haven't touched them from how much it hurts. Last one to touch was you."

There was a moment of silence between the two, Aether furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to remember anything different they may had done before the departure.

"This would be easier if I was there. Maybe have someone try feeling around for lumps, you're too aware of your body and can miss things sometimes."

As they went to talk, the bathroom opened and a 'soggy furball' as Dew liked to call him—stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist.

"Mountain! Perfect! Come squeeze my tits!"

The earth ghoul's face immediately went red but his tail perked up from under the towel. "W-What?!"

Dew waved him over, "Come here!"

"I'm not cucking Aether." Mountain grumbled, but still came over.

"Ooh, I like that idea, but not right now. We're trying to figure out why my chest is being weird."

Aether's laughter could be heard from the phone, the drummer leaning over to wave as he sat on the bed after placing the towel under him more. Carefully, Dew took off his nursing pads and kept his shirt up, still in view for Aether so he could attempt to try and figure out what's going on.

"What exactly am I looking for, let alone doing?" Mountain asked, carefully bringing his hands forward.

"Just see if there's any abnormal lumps or anything. Also, hi big boy! Thanks for touching our mate when I'm not there."

Mountain laughed at the comment, but still nodded, moving both hands to the left side and slowly feeling. His thumb pads pressed in on his areola, all three of them noticing Dew's nipple leaking again. He continued pushing around but shook his head. Going to the right, he noticed Dew's grimace as he pushed in, and the same reaction but at a heavier flow.

"He just feels, pardon my language, really fucking full like when he was still nursing." Mountain shrugged, continuing to press against the right side as the more that came out, the more Dew's face relaxed. "Think you might be pregnant?"

Dewdrop's eyes shot up. "No way in hell! We've been using protection since, I am not doing a round two!"

"Well..." Aether whined. "There was that one time in the practice room a week before you left..."

"Really? The practice room?" Mountain huffed.

"Yell at us later! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Dew groaned, now full of paranoia. "Aeth' this is fucking serious now! I've been smoking and drinking!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be feeding into that, and while it still is a possibility, we don't know for sure! There's a multitude of reasons this could be happening." The nurse was now fully sitting up in the bed, trying to keep his tone calm. "There's— Calida's back. Hi baby!"

Mountain immediately tore away and got out the frame, picking his towel up and getting dressed. Dew did the same, covering himself and quickly masking.

"Mana! Aunty Sunny said that when you get home we're gonna play together, okay?" The ghoulette chirped, climbing back on the bed and completely oblivious to her parents panic.

"Ohh, that sounds absolutely perfect! Which dolls should we use?" Dew tilted his head, smiling so wide for his daughter.

She began to ramble about which one of her many assortments of dolls would be perfect to play as a chef and the waiters, Dew just listening intently and nodding although his mind was a bit more to the side. Mountain got into his pajamas and made a little motion to Dew, pointing at his own chest. The fire ghoul looked down, grimacing as his shirt was quickly getting wet, trying to subtly place his pads back on.

"Those sound perfect! Hey, want to talk to Uncle Mountain really quick?" Dew purred, the earth ghoul getting the hint.

As he took the phone and came into view, Calida squealed again and now Mountain covered his ear the best he could while laughing. Taking the opportunity, Dew took the shirt off and redid his pads, reaching into his bag again to pull out a simple tank top.

"—Next thing you know, you're going to take your Mana's guitar." Mountain chuckled, now simply wandering around the small room. "What song do you wanna learn first?"

"Ohh... Can I learn the song about the mommy?"

Aether joined after Calida. "Witch image?"

"Yeah!"

"Ohh, that's a good one!" Mountain's ear flicked. "You'll have fun with that one, definitely going to practice that solo, though. I'm positive you'll get it down when you start learning!"

Calida giggled, moving to lay against Aether with a yawn, his arm carefully holding her close and the other still keeping the phone up. She rubbed her eye, purring softly. "Uncle Mounty, can you tell Mana I'm tired?"

"Absolutely."

He turned, waiting for Dew to settle a bit more before giving a thumbs up. The two now sitting together and being in the frame.

"Sleepy, sol?" Dew cooed, leaning his head against Mountain's shoulder and watching as she nodded. "I'm sure you've been wide awake this entire time until I called, hm? I'm sorry little love. Why don't you go ahead and go get cuddled up in bed? I'll make Daba leave the phone in your room so I'll be right there."

Calida nodded, holding up her two fingers for 'As Above', Dew responding with 'Down Below.'

"Sing to me, Mana?"

"Of course I will. Now go get in your nightgown, yeah?"

He watched his daughter once more nod with another yawn, kissing Aether's cheek before padding off. There was a brief moment before Dew exhaled, dropping his smile.

"Love..." Mountain whined, pulling Dewdrop close.

"What the fuck?" Tears slowly began to go down. "I can't... Have another child, I don't think I can handle doing it all again. Calida's birth was traumatic as is, and even just talking about it I'm getting terrified again."

Aether sighed, "I'm sorry, firefly. Listen, you only have a few more weeks until you get back, then we can figure out for sure what's going on. You still have options if, worst case scenario, you are pregnant again."

Nodding, Mountain chimed in to hug Dewdrop tight. "He's right. No matter what you chose, or what comes up, we're right here. In the meantime, it's definitely time to cold turkey everything again just in case."

The quintessence nodded, propping himself up more. "Absolutely. Just, take a big deep breath, okay? Everything's going to be alright. We're going to figure it out, and maybe it's something silly we can laugh about!"

Inhaling sharply, Dewdrop groaned and rubbed his face, getting rid of his tears as much as possible. "You're right, I'm sorry... Lilith save me, I can't even think about going through baby 2.0. Oh fuck, the diaper changes?!" Dewdrop began to laugh as he reminisced, gagging somewhat. "The things that came out of that girls ass would've been classified as chemical warfare during the Cold War—And that's when I had a healthy diet! Satan only knows the terrors now."

Very quickly the mood had been lifted as the three continued talking about the baby terrors, ending with their softer memories. After a bit more soothing and calming, Dew had whispered his goodnight to both of their mates. Keeping true to his word, Aether propped the phone against Calida's lamp and tucked her in. Calida just smiled, waving before holding tightly onto her childhood toy. The banana plush that haunted so many kithood photos.

Double checking Mountain had his headphones in so he wasn't effected by his mate's voice, Dew got comfortable as well.

It was simple, soft. "White ladder, water and whine, forever." He sang "Crying, oh time."

When Calida had been taken care of by Aether and Mountain while Dewdrop was stuck in the infirmary in a coma—They would play this specific album, humming to her softly and sometimes Aether would use his acoustic. It was the only thing that helped put her to bed, and even as she was almost seven, it's still all she wanted.

Sometimes Calida had moments that made Dewdrop double think her element; Her siren shrieks, how her voice echoed when she tried to sing, and just her pure fascination for large bodies of water. But no matter what Dew would do to try and test out a water element, fire always took hold. For example, Mountain had been boiling water for pasta, and Dew held Calida up to gently encourage her to ripple the water—instead the stove caught aflame. Luckily Dew was quick thinking and secluded the fire, but Mountain was very not happy that his new pot was burnt beyond fix.

But, that wasn't important to Dewdrop. What was important, was little moments like this. Continuing to sing for his daughter, watching her eyes slowly flutter close, occasionally trying to stay awake before finally accepting her fate. Dew continued until he knew for a fact she was asleep, moving his own phone to the bedside and plugging it in, flipping his light off and laying down to watch his little one rest peacefully.

He loved these moments. It's what gave him the strength to keep going through the tour, as soon he'd be home and holding her so tightly. But the thought of returning home quickly became worrisome, his chest aching in reminder. He slowly moved a hand to his abdomen, exhaling and trying to calm himself.

That would be a home situation that had multiple possible endings. Clouding his mind. So, he let his focus go back on Calida who had started chewing her toy in her sleep, making him giggle a bit.

Yeah. That would be a home problem.

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev writing #ghoul kits #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #calida kit

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winters8child · 3 months ago

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It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 74

I leaped off the balcony without waiting for Steve, my heart pounding as I saw Bucky locked in a fierce struggle with a man dressed like a cat. The stranger was on top of Bucky, clawing at his face, and I rushed forward, slashing at him with my knife. But the blade barely made a mark on his suit. He turned his head, eyes narrowing before he delivered a brutal punch to my stomach, sending me flying backward.

As I struggled to catch my breath, Steve landed on the roof with a solid thud, ready to join the fight. But before he could intervene, a helicopter swooped in, its guns trained on us. The air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire. Just as things looked dire, Sam streaked through the sky, ramming into the chopper and throwing it off course.

Seizing the brief moment of chaos, Bucky grabbed his backpack and made a desperate leap off the building, with the mysterious attacker right behind him, relentless in his pursuit.

Steve leaped after them, and I was right on his heels as we landed on the streets of Romania. The chopper resumed its assault, bullets ricocheting off the pavement around us with a deafening clatter. Bucky made a daring jump down into a tunnel, narrowly dodging cars that swerved and honked in alarm.

We followed without hesitation, the roar of engines and the blare of horns filling the air as we sprinted after Bucky and his relentless pursuer. The tunnel amplified every sound, and the flashing lights of police cars reflected off the walls as they sped after us, their sirens wailing in a chaotic symphony of pursuit.

Steve leaped onto the hood of a car, forcing it to a halt. "Get inside!" he shouted at me as he urged the stunned driver to get out. I quickly slid into the passenger seat while Steve jumped behind the wheel and slammed the gas pedal, speeding off into the chaotic traffic.

Before we could catch our breath, the cat-like man landed on the roof with a heavy thud. Steve swerved violently, trying to dislodge him, but his claws dug deep into the metal, holding firm. "Sam, I can't shake this guy," Steve said through gritted teeth, weaving through the narrow gaps between cars, but the relentless attacker clung on, his determination as unyielding as his grip.

"Right behind you", Sam replied as Steve tried to shake off the guy by crashing into other cars but still he did not lose his grip.

A motorbike roared toward Bucky, but in a swift, calculated move, he grabbed the handlebar and twisted the bike mid-air, flinging the rider off before mounting it himself. Bucky gunned the engine and sped away, forcing cars to swerve wildly out of his path. Steve, relentless, kept on Bucky's tail with the cat-like man, clinging to the back of the 4x4, his claws still anchored in the metal.

They all rocketed through another underpass, the world around them blurring into a chaotic mess of speed and danger. Sam swooped into the tunnel just as his pursuer made an agile leap off the 4x4 and onto Bucky's motorbike. In a fluid motion, Bucky flung him over his head, the bike tipping precariously before Bucky kicked his assailant away, straightened up, and continued his desperate ride.

But Catman was far from out of the fight. He caught hold of Falcon’s leg mid-flight, and Sam struggled to shake him off, trying to kick him away. Meanwhile, Bucky hurled a sticky bomb at the end of the underpass, and the explosion sent tons of rubble crashing down, creating an instant blockade. Catman, undeterred, leaped from Falcon's grip just in time to tackle Bucky, throwing him off the motorbike.

Steve, driving through the cascading debris, swerved the 4x4 expertly through the falling rubble. We both leaped out of the vehicle and Steve grabbed the other guy, pulling him away from Bucky. We stood face to face—Steve, tense and resolute, and the mysterious cat guy, sleek and muscular, a silent storm of intent.

Before the standoff could escalate further, armed police swarmed the scene, their guns trained on all of us. The tension was palpable, a hair-trigger moment suspended in time. War Machine descended from above, landing with a heavy thud as he raised both hands in a gesture meant to defuse the escalating situation. The battle was over, but the consequences were only just beginning to unfold.

"Stand down, now," Rhodey commanded, his voice firm. He glanced at Steve and me with a mix of disappointment and frustration. "Congratulations, you two. You're criminals now," he added, as Steve extended his hand, signaling Bucky to hold back, preventing any further escalation.

We were completely surrounded—dozens of police cars blocked every escape route, with soldiers everywhere, their weapons trained on us, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. The tension was suffocating, a standoff with no clear way out.

The man who had been relentlessly pursuing Bucky slowly raised his hands and reached up to remove his helmet. The gesture was calm, almost regal, and as he revealed his face, Rhodey’s tone shifted to one of deference. "Your Highness," he acknowledged, confirming what we had only suspected: we were up against not just any opponent, but the king of Wakanda himself.

They forced Bucky to the ground, roughly shackling his hands behind his back. His eyes remained locked on mine, filled with a mix of concern and regret. Instinctively, I moved toward him, desperate to reach out, but a soldier quickly stepped in, blocking my path. "Don't move!" he barked, his rifle aimed squarely at my head.

Before I could respond, another soldier approached from behind, yanking my arms back and snapping the cold metal cuffs around my wrists. The clatter of steel echoed in my ears as I was pulled away, helpless to stop what was happening. Steve, too, was arrested, his hands bound as he was surrounded by heavily armed soldiers. The weight of our situation settled in—a crushing, inescapable reality as we were all taken into custody.

We were all shoved into the back of a car, the tension thick as the door slammed shut. Bucky was being transported separately, confined in a glass cube, a stark reminder of how much they feared him. Sam, Steve, the king of Wakanda, and I sat in heavy silence, each of us lost in our thoughts.

Unable to resist, Sam broke the silence with a sarcastic comment, "So, you like cats?" The attempt at levity was fleeting, as Steve quickly cut him off with a sharp "Sam."

Turning his attention to the king of Wakanda, Steve asked with genuine curiosity, "Your suit... it's Vibranium?"

The king of Wakanda, his gaze fixed on the window, responded with a measured tone, his words heavy with the weight of his loss and his new responsibilities. "The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So, I ask you... as both warrior and king... how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

A shiver went through me, he would do everything in his power to get to Bucky, to kill him.

We arrived at our destination, an imposing underground bunker teeming with police and security personnel. The car doors swung open, and we stepped out into the sterile, dimly lit environment. A grey-haired man and a blond woman waited to greet us, their expressions unreadable.

I glanced over at the truck where Bucky’s glass cube was being unloaded by a forklift. A wave of panic surged through me as I saw him being moved, and I couldn't keep the fear out of my voice. "What are you going to do with him?"

The grey-haired man turned to me with a cold, calculated smile. "Same thing that ought to happen to you," he said. "Psychological evaluation and extradition." His tone was almost casual as if the gravity of the situation was a mere formality.

The woman beside the grey-haired man spoke up, her voice carrying a hint of formality. "This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander." I caught a glimpse of a subtle smile from Steve toward her, hinting at a familiarity between them that I hadn’t expected.

Steve, trying to navigate the situation with some semblance of control, asked, "What about our lawyer?"

Everett Ross’s response came with a humorless chuckle as if the very idea was absurd. "Lawyer. That's funny," he said, shaking his head. "See, their weapons are placed in lockup. Oh, we’ll write you a receipt."

As our weapons and equipment were carried away, Sam shot a dismissive look at the guards. "I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that," he muttered, his frustration evident.

We followed the guards down a long corridor, but I glanced back one last time at Bucky. He was still in his glass cube, looking defeated, his eyes meeting mine with a look of deep regret and helplessness.

Next Chapter

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #the avengers #fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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sweetwhispersofchaos · 3 months ago

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Eject Chapter 9

Story Summary: Ejecting from your plane in the face of danger? Expected. Forbidden love amongst pilots? Not so much. Will they bond or will this break them for good?

Chapter Summary: Road trip, a walk in the woods, and nap time

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace All the Daggers, Mav x Penny, Amelia, OC's

Warnings: Language. Assault (not by a major character). Injury. Eventual smut. Alcohol consumption. Smoking. Discussions of mental health. (It's a rollercoaster. You've been warned!) Chapter

Word Count: 6124

Eject Masterlist

I do not own anything except the original characters.

See the Tahoe House HERE!

The return to base the next day was uneventful, smooth flights, no time delays. Rooster was a little annoyed that Phoenix seemed to be, to some extent, ignoring him. He chalked it up to keeping things professional and hoped deep down that’s all it was. They spent the next couple of days packing up their rooms and going through Pentagon-lead debriefings before it was time to head out on their Tahoe adventure.

Before the sun came up Thursday morning, the travelers met in the parking lot in front of their housing unit, coffees in hand and eyes not quite open all the way. Except Hangman. He was too eager for his own good and Rooster just knew Phoenix was going to kill him before they ever got on the road.

“Ok friends, it’s time to mount up and head off on the vacation of a lifetime!” Hangman said in the most annoyingly chipper voice.

“It’s Tahoe, not the Vatican. What happened to no pussy-footin around? Let’s just go please?” Phoenix spit with bleary eyes while leaning on the side of Bobs 1997 black Mustang GT Convertible. Several tired chuckles rang out around the circle.

“I’m workin on it ma’m, calm down.”

Phoenix raised her coffee to her lips, letting her middle finger lift slightly off the cup.

“Let’s drive until say, nine? Then we can stop, stretch legs, and change drivers if yall want?”

Everyone nodded and started loading gear in the back of Fritz’s truck and Roosters Bronco. As Phoenix dropped her duffle and a backpack in Roosters back seat, he moved next to her and quietly asked “Got a thing against my car?”

She snorted then looked up at him with a tired expression “As a matter of fact I do. I don’t trust it. And Bobs is cooler. And has good, working heat. Oh, and your taste in music is sometimes questionable. Don’t take it personal, Bob and I need the drive time to plan the Thanksgiving meal for Saturday.”

He nodded his head in agreement and she squeezed his forearm before walking away to Bob’s car. Damn Bob. It was a cool car.

Fanboy gave Rooster a small smile as he climbed into the Bronco, Rooster turning one more time to look towards the Mustang, but Phoenix was busy adjusting her blanket and neck pillow in the front seat.

“Bird Brain! Get your ass in that disaster and let’s go!” Hangman called from the passenger window of the truck.

“Man fuck you; I’m going.” And with that he slid in, and the Bronco engine roared and thumped to life. They were off on what Rooster had a feeling would actually be the trip of a lifetime. His anyways.

*****

Almost four hours later the group came to a stop at a corner gas station and deli. The drivers all gassed up as needed while others made bathroom and snack runs.

“My turn Fritz.”

“The hell it is Hangman. There is no way you are driving my truck.”

“I’ll drive if you want Fritz?” Omaha tossed out.

“Sure man, here.” And with that Fritz tossed his keys over the bed of his truck to Omaha who took off at a sprint around to the driver’s side.

Fritz merely smiled at the offended look on Hangman’s face. “What the fuck man? You don’t trust me?”

“With my truck? Not at all.” And Fritz walked off toward the gas station entrance.

Phoenix and Bob laughed as they loaded their snack purchases into the Mustang and Rooster just shook his head while adding gas to the Bronco.

“Bob, mind if I drive?” Phoenix asked as she came to rest against the hood of his car.

“Not at all Phee. Keys are in the car.”

“Oh would you two get a room?” Hangman spit obviously still pissed.

Rooster decided to see if Fanboy wanted a turn, but Fanboy didn’t know how to drive a stick. Coyote offered to drive for Rooster so he switched with Fanboy and off they went again.

Rooster attempted sleep for a couple hours, using his headphones to tune out Coyotes obnoxious music and bitching about the Broncos bad alignment, but he never could quite give it up. A certain fiery woman was weighing on his mind. He knew the talk was coming. The one where they hashed out exactly what they were or weren’t as far as their relationship. All he could hope for was to use this trip to win her over. Show her that she was too important to him. But he had to be careful. She seemed fine, but he knew that beautiful brain of hers never slowed down or completely relaxed.

He decided to send her a text. She was driving so she wouldn’t see it until their next stop, but maybe just a little note to let her know he was thinking about her.

Bradley thought for a moment then typed out his message.

Careful Dale, this isn’t the Indy 500. You drive that thing like it’s your plane. But it’s entertaining to watch from back here. *wink emoji*

He smirked at the message and hit send. She would probably get a kick out of that. He skipped to the next song and decided to try sleep again. This time, it stuck.

*****

The group only planned to stop two more times, but Hangman couldn’t wait the last hour to pee. Again. So after three stops and several driver changes, they arrived at the Serasin family house, and the description Jake gave them barely scratched the surface of how stylish the place was.

It was after dark, and the temps were dropping quickly below freezing, so the group wasted no time emptying their belongings into the large living room. Hangman took them on a tour of the place, chattering about memories he had for every room. Some memories were funny, some completely inappropriate and unnecessary. Apparently, he had christened every room in the place, at least in his mind.

Hangman’s room was upstairs off of the game room. Not that anyone needed to be told. The posters of scantily clad women, fighter jets, and fast cars completely gave it away.

“My mom keeps this one locked” he explained, using a key to open it, “she doesn’t want anyone messing up her baby boys’ room.” Which was met with a chorus of groans and curses.

“Coyote, you take the room next door. Phoenix, the master is just down the hall. There’s one room with two beds in it next to the master then two rooms downstairs near the pool. Yall figure out who’s going where.” Hangman pointed like an air traffic controller while giving directions then disappeared downstairs.

Omaha cleared his throat and spoke up first. “I think Fritz and I already agreed we wanted to be by the pool. Right?” he asked looking in Fritz direction.

“Yup that works for me. I love to swim.”

Several questioning looks passed around the room then Bob spoke up.

“Fanboy, want to take the other room downstairs? Closer to the hot tub I figure?” Bob said, feigning innocence with the suggestive comment.

Fanboy seemed to consider this for a moment then grinned. “That works for me. I plan to test that “no sex” rule this week. There has to be a few slope bunnies running around here.” And he winked. Bob just swallowed then looked over at Rooster. “I guess that means the room up here is yours.”

Rooster’s eyes cut over to Phoenix as if asking her permission to sleep one room away, even though they had been doing that in barracks and on ships for years. When she didn’t protest, he said, “Yeah that works for me” and they all dispersed to check out their accommodations and bring their bags to their rooms.

Phoenix disappeared down the hall as the guys all filed down the stairs. Rooster watched her go then heard a quiet “You’re welcome” next to him as Bob walked past to the stairs without looking Roosters direction at all.

He was gob smacked. That quiet, dorky guy was playing matchmaker without anyone knowing. Bob was definitely a good guy and he owed him so big.

Once downstairs Rooster grabbed his duffle as well as the two bags Phoenix brought along and headed back upstairs. He dropped his ruck at the door to his room then moved over to the master bedroom, tapping the slightly ajar door.

“Anyone home?” he asked into the room.

“Come in” she called.

Bradley entered the dark, freezing room and dropped her backpack and duffle near the bed. Looking around for her he realized there was a faint light coming from the bathroom.

“Uhm sorry” He called out “I didn’t mean to intrude; I brought your bags.”

She emerged from the bathroom with a laugh and flipped the switch on the closest lamp to her, warm light filling the dark. “Calm down bubba, I was just hanging my coat up and taking my boots off. Thanks for bringing my bags up, you didn’t have to do that?”

“They say chivalry is dead but I’m out to prove them wrong.”

She shook her head with that lovable smirk. “By the way, I was definitely feeling a little bit like a NASCAR driver today, so thanks for noticing. That is a fun car to drive!” She moved to her bags and started to remove things and place them in drawers.

He just let out a laughing breath and decided to give her some space to unpack. “Need anything else?”

“Nope, I think I’m good. I’m going to go find Bob so we can place a grocery pickup for in the morning. I think Omaha and Fritz brought enough water and snacks to hold us until then.”

“Sounds good. I’m just right next door if you need me.” He said, pointing in the direction of his room with his thumb as he started to make his way to the door but before he could leave, a hand reached out and grabbed his forearm.

“I’m glad you’re next door.” She said, looking somewhat shy. A look he had never really seen on her before. The slight blush of her cheeks warmed him. He just grinned and nodded his head. “Me too” and with that he walked out of her room and across to his. Once his bag was inside, he realized that his heart was pounding, and he still had the stupid grin on his face.

Oh yes, this was going to be a wonderful week indeed.

*****

The drive had been a long one so most turned in early after they arrived. The next morning Rooster woke to the sound of loud music and laughter coming from downstairs. He rolled over to check his phone on the bedside table. 8:47am

Really? He thought as he rolled back over and slammed his face into his pillow. It’s too early for that shit. He grumbled then decided he was wasting precious time and moved to sit up. As he rolled his neck and rubbed sleep from his eyes, a light tap came at his door. Frowning he croaked out “come in”.

The door opened slowly, and the woman of his dreams slipped in, closing the door behind her. Nat’s back came to rest on the wall next to the door and he was able to get an eyeful of her attire. Nat was dressed in a small pair of black shorts that barely covered the necessities and a matching black top with very thin straps. Roosters heart stopped and he prayed in that moment that his breath didn’t reek, and the covers hid his lap.

She smiled a small tight-lipped grin, speaking through her visible grogginess. “I’d tell you good morning, but I’m not sure all the ruckus downstairs makes it good.”

He snorted and nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Did it wake you too?”

“Unfortunately” she said as she moved over to the empty bed by the door. She crawled on all fours until she was in the middle then laid on her stomach facing him, her chin coming to rest on her folded arms in front of her. Watching her crawl across that bed scantily clad made his breath hitch and beads of sweat begin to pool in his hair line.

“I’m hiding out. Hangman said last night that the “lady of the house” should cook breakfast. Asshole. The smell of bacon tells me the grocery order arrived, so I figured I’d hide in here for a while until the idiots downstairs got things ready. Just in case one of ‘em comes looking for me.”

“I swear, the thought of physical violence from you really fuels that man. He has a serious death wish.” Rooster said with a chuckle.

“He may get his wish before this week is up. The kicker is, I really don’t know if he’s just playing sometime or if he really is the sexist pig he comes across as.” She says dryly.

“Probably both. I know he trusts you as a pilot, I’ve heard him say as much, though he would never admit it to your face.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Bradley continued “I also think he didn’t grow up around women who were pioneers in a male dominated field either.” With this she giggled and rolled over to her back and folded her arms over her face.

“It’s always weird to hear things like that said about me, ya know? “Pioneer of her field” I mean. I know I’m good at what I do but it still seems pretty unreal sometimes.”

“I’m sure it does. But it’s the truth.”

“Hmm” was her only response.

He contemplated what to say next. He really wanted to bug her about her decision, but it might be too early in the morning. This might also be the only time they would have alone the rest of the week. He really hoped it wouldn’t be, but he decided to strike while the opportunity was there.

“So, uh. I don’t want to hit you with this first thing in the morning, but um, I think we need to talk. About us. Uh, about your decision.”

He let out a huffed breath at the end of his statement, trying not to feel or come across nervous but he knew he was failing miserably at that. He was more nervous than ever before because she wasn’t moving. He wasn’t sure she was breathing either. He was sitting cross legged under his covers and just looked down at his lap, picking at lint on the top of the comforter, hoping she didn’t run out of the room.

Instead, she did something he wasn’t expecting. She rolled over and crawled out of the spare bed and came to a rest on Roosters bed, sitting cross legged in front of him. She placed a hand on top of the covers of his knee. He looked up to see her dark eyes, an obvious war happening within them. She looked nervous too, a look he rarely saw on her face.

“I know you want an answer” she began quietly “and you deserve one. I’m not being entirely fair to you, and I’m sorry for that.” He just stared in disbelief. He did not expect that to roll out of her mouth. “I think we should just see how this week goes and maybe we can talk at the end of it. Make some decisions then, yeah? I don’t want us to say or do anything the first morning that would impact the others mood for the rest of the week. Let’s just have a good time?”

Rooster stared into her eyes as she spoke, listening intently to her words. It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes either. But she wanted to have a good time with him this week. That seemed promising enough under the circumstances. He cleared his throat and placed his hand on top of her hand that was resting on his knee.

“I can live with that.” He said with a slight grin, her face relaxing into his favorite smirk.

Her warring eyes seemed to melt into something a little more dangerous and before he knew it, she had launched herself forward, her hands pushing on his chest, knocking him backwards into the pillow, her tiny frame coming to rest on top of his. Her hands stopped her fall, one on each side of his head, and his hands came to rest naturally on her hips.

Bradley looked up at her in complete shock, at a total loss for words, his heart racing. Natasha bent down as if doing a pushup and kissed him lightly on the lips then rose again to look at him with her trademark smirk. Roosters’ eyes fluttered open, and he realized he was gripping her small but firm hips harder than he probably should have been. He was fighting against every urge in his body, telling him in that moment to pull her hips down to meet his and kiss her senseless. They stayed that way, staring at each other, both panting lightly. Then she smiled a full smile.

“Do you smell bacon? I smell bacon.” She said with a raised eyebrow. And with that she rolled off of him and flitted quickly out of the room without a look backwards.

All Rooster could do was watch her leave then reach under the covers, his mind racing with all sorts of inappropriate yet delicious thoughts.

*****

After a long, almost frigid shower, Rooster threw on a pair of gym shorts and a black t-shirt and decided to face the music. Literally. The breakfast party was still hopping downstairs when he made his way down the staircase. The happy sight that greeted him made him grin. It was easy in this relaxed setting to forget just how precious life is and how any one of them could have been lost just a week ago.

Bob and Fanboy were moving around the kitchen, working on food and dishes. Hangman, Coyote, and Omaha sat in the tall chairs at the kitchen counter, empty plates in front of them as they talked amongst themselves enthusiastically. Fritz was curled up in the lounge chair, his back to Rooster. Then his eyes fell on her. Nat was wearing her favorite pair of gray sweatpants with NAVY written down the side of them in blue and a blue tank top. Her hair was piled up on top of her head and she was nested in the crook of the large sectional, a warm mug of coffee in her hands. She looked up at him and smiled innocently. As if nothing had happened. He stood there smirking at her when a loud, obnoxious voice rang out.

“It’s about damn time you drag your lazy ass out of bed Slow Ride.” Hangman was smiling wide, and Coyote gave him a quick high five. Everyone turned to look at him.

“Fuck you man, some of us actually drove yesterday, so who’s the lazy one.” And he popped Hangman on the back of the head as he walked past him around into the kitchen, grabbing a plate off the counter as he did.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be mad if we didn’t leave you any food though.”

Bob spoke dryly from the other end of the kitchen where he was putting away clean dishes, his back to everyone. “There’s plenty. Look on the stove top Rooster, help yourself.”

“Thanks friend.” He said, looking at Hangman as he accentuated the word friend.

He loaded up a plate full of bacon, potatoes, and eggs then moved around to the tall chairs, taking the one on the end, purposely keeping two chairs between him and Hangman.

“Well birdie, did you find your accommodations suitable?”

Rooster snorted as he shoveled food into his mouth. He didn’t realize just how hungry he was, for actual food that is. Without looking up from his plate he let out a grunt but kept eating.

“A true man of many words.” The smartass replied then turned to look at Phoenix. “So friends, what do yall want to do today?”

Phoenix spoke first “At some point today we have to do some prep work on the food for our feast tomorrow.”

Hangman shook his head “Ok buzzkill. What fun things do yall want to do today?” Phoenix just rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee.

Fanboy spoke up next “I want to go to the ski lodge you mentioned. Maybe I can snag a date for our dinner tomorrow.”

“Now we’re talking.” Hangman replied. Omaha and Coyote agreed they wanted to go as well. Bob decided he wanted to stay and swim some before helping Phoenix prep the meal. Fritz and Rooster agreed to stay and help.

“I think I’m going to bundle up here in a little bit and take a walk down the trail to the lake. I want to see it.” Phoenix spoke up.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Bob agreed.

Plans were made, dishes were washed, and everyone dispersed to get ready for their day’s events. Once the ski lodge group left, the other half convened downstairs, donned in winter clothing, ready to take their walk. Fritz decided he wanted to stay behind and watch a movie in the theater room, so Bob, Phoenix, and Rooster set off to the lake.

The sun was out but the temperature was barely above freezing as the three friends made their way down a wooded trail, covered with the light dusting of snow from the day before. Natasha and Bob walked ahead of Rooster, chatting about their surroundings and the things that needed to be prepped today for tomorrow’s meal. Rooster wandered behind them, half listening, half watching his step, and occasionally catching glimpses of Nat’s smile when she was turned to face him or Bob. She seemed so happy and free, the intensity she normally carried with her melting away like snow in the sun.

After a half hour, they reached a clearing in the trees and a ledge overlooking the lake. The view was breathtaking. Clear water ringed by white and trees as far as they could see.

Rooster came to stand at the ledge with Phoenix between Bob and him. They all stood staring at the sight before them.

“Wow.” Bob said barely above a whisper.

“Agreed” Rooster said and Nat just nodded her head.

“You know, we see this stuff from the sky but it’s so different down here, completely immersed in this level of beauty. Its otherworldly.” Bob said, looking over at the two pilots. Both of them turned their heads and stared at him. Obviously uncomfortable with the sudden microscope he was under Bob spoke again. “What? I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Huh. Learn something new every day.” Rooster said and Phoenix giggled.

“Yeah, well. I’m going to walk down to that clearing over there” Bob pointed to his right where the trail continued to another clearing a little further down the rock ledge. “Hangman said there are some natural tree benches there. I want to Facetime my sister, show my nieces the view.” And with a nod of his head, the bespeckled man turned and headed down the trail until he moved out of sight.

Rooster looked down at Natasha as she turned to look up at him.

“You know he did the whole room thing on purpose, right?” Rooster asked her suspiciously, wondering if she in fact knew this to be true.

“I figured. He really is a stealthy one. You know he caught on to us immediately that first night in the Hard Deck? He knew we had some sort of history and in his own, quiet way worked out enough to know that one way or the other, you and I work well together.” She said.

Rooster grinned, reaching out with his right hand to take her left. “We do work well together huh?” He asked, somewhat rhetorically.

“We do. No matter what, at least from a professional perspective, we will always make a badass team.”

“Hell yeah” he responded and brought the back of her gloved hand up to his lips as she smirked.

“So much for professionalism” she chastised in a playful manner. He laughed then leaned in to kiss her lightly on her lips.

“Now that was unprofessional” he said with a smirk as she just shook her head.

They decided to rejoin Bob. They found him walking around the clearing showing two giggling little girls the snow and trees and answering their rapid-fire questions about his most recent trip to sea. He of course was giving as little information as possible, but his face lit up when he looked up to see the two pilots.

“Ashley, Avery, there’s someone I want yall to meet.” He said, waving Phoenix over to where he was standing in the middle of the clearing. She walked over and came to stand next to him, smiling into the screen as he turned it to face her.

“Girls, this is Phoenix. She is my pilot!” he said animatedly, and Rooster could see both girls look of shock and awe as he moved up behind Bob and Phoenix.

“No way” the older child said “she’s a girl” she said questioningly, seeming a little confused but excited.

Bob and Phoenix both chuckled. “That I am. I’m so glad to meet both of you. Your Uncle Bobby talks about you both all the time. Maybe sometime the two of you can come with your mom and dad down to Lemoore and I can give you a look at my plane.” Phoenix said with matching enthusiasm to the sweet, shining eyes in front of her.

Both girls started squealing excitedly with chants of “Really?” and “Can we? Can we?”

Bob replied “Of course! I would love that for yall.”

The girls giggled as an adult woman came into view. “Ok you two, quit hogging your uncle, I want to talk to him too. Go play.” She said as she took the phone from the girls.

The older child spoke one more time. “I can’t wait to see you Uncle Bobby. I miss you. Phoenix, you are so cool!” and then she passed off the phone to her smiling mom.

Bob went on to introduce Phoenix to his sister Rachel and the two spoke with her for about 10 minutes. Rooster made his way to one of the fallen tree trunks and took a seat. He watched his Fire Bird with awe. Bobs sister asked her questions about being a female pilot, what it was like working with her brother, working with all the testosterone, her accomplishments. Towards the end of the conversation she called her daughters back to the phone and allowed them to ask Phoenix a few questions as well. The children were completely in love with the strong woman, just as he was.

Bob held the phone looking all the proud uncle as he watched his pilot chat happily with his family. Rooster suddenly knew why Nat was so hesitant with him. All of her words on the carrier slammed into him like a jet going Mach 10. She had this responsibility that rested on her shoulder. Young girls like Bobs nieces look at her and see a future that Natasha and other women had to fight to make a possibility. Something that seemed farfetched when Natasha was growing up was now an easily obtainable career option for little girls and his heart ached. She obviously loved not only flying but sharing her love of flying and encouraging those little girls to reach for something like that, if they wanted. He could never be the one to put her in the position to have to choose that love for his love. He wouldn’t do to her what Maverick had done to him. Bradley wouldn’t try to take her lifelong dream from her over his own selfishness. Or at the very least, he wouldn’t make it more difficult than it already had been for her.

He decided then and there that whatever fun they had this week could only really be platonic unless Nat said otherwise, and he practically shattered on the inside. Her happiness was all that mattered to him, and he was watching her at her absolute happiest in a beautiful setting and he wanted that to be the best memory she took from this trip.

*****

Rooster was quiet on the walk back, deep in contemplation while Nat and Bob discussed his nieces and their excitement over “meeting” Phoenix. Back at the house they found Fritz asleep in the movie room while a World War II flick played out on the screen. Bob and Phoenix changed back into comfortable clothing and decided to start working on the food for Thanksgiving. Rooster needed some quiet time to think so he decided to head up to his room and take a nap. He quickly changed out of his warm clothing and back into his athletic shorts before crawling into the bed.

He was almost asleep when a tap came at the door. This time she didn’t wait for him to respond, and Natasha slid into the door and locked it behind her. She walked across the room and slid her sweatpants down her toned legs, revealing small blue shorts underneath. Then wordlessly she crawled under the covers next to Bradley and came to rest with her head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around her.

“I think now is a great time to get our missed nap in.” She stated matter-of-factly.

He squeezed her into him and placed a light kiss on the top of her head in response. Her warm body felt incredible, her tiny frame fit perfectly at his side. But instead of feeling excited and elated, he felt torn. For years this is what he wanted, to have her cuddling in his arms. But now strong feelings of guilt were washing over him as he thought of her conversation with two giggling little girls earlier. Bradley drifted off to the sound of her light breaths and his wandering thoughts of a future he wasn’t sure he really wanted anymore.

*****

An hour later Rooster came back to life to the realization he was alone in the bed. And they say Bob is the stealthy one. He never heard her leave. She sure liked to do that.

With a sigh he crawled out of the bed and headed downstairs to see what was going on. He found Nat and Bob standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables and prepping a turkey for the oven.

“Hey sleepy head. Care to join us?” she asked with a smile.

Bob looked up at Rooster over the top of his glasses, a knowing grin on his face.

“Uh yeah, let me wash my hands.”

With that he spent the next couple of hours working around the kitchen with Bob and Natasha while they sang, told jokes, and swapped war stories.

As the bird went in the oven the ski lodge group returned, crashing through the front door loudly laughing and chatting as they removed their boots and coats.

“Bobby boy, you missed out. Fanboy found a pair of nerd girls and had them all to himself. Oh wait, probably not your type huh?”

“Bagman, eat shit.” Bob spat as he adjusted the temperature on the oven.

“Daaaang. He told you.” Fanboy voiced mockingly as he entered the kitchen.

“What? I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.” Hangman said defensively and Bob just shot him an unamused look.

“I have a proposition for yall. We should go to the Opal at Bally’s tonight. Its just over the border in Nevada. Dancing, drinking, ladies. Lets make a bet, see if we can get Bobby Boy’s cherry popped tonight.”

Coyote laughed, Phoenix looked ready to throw the knife in her hand, and Fanboy just shook his head.

“Serasin, believe it or not I haven’t been a virgin for a very long time and really don’t need your help in that department.” And with that Bob sat down the towel he was wiping his hands with and made for the stairs down to the movie room.

“I swear to God, you open your mouth and literal shit just pours out of it. What is it about that man that threatens you so much? Is It because he is a better person than you could ever hope to be or what?” Rooster had reached up to remove the knife from Phoenix hand as she spit her words at Hangman, practically shouting at him.

“What? I was just having some fun with the guy?”

“Your idea of fun involves being a dick. Pretty sure dick isn’t what Bob is into.” she said, completely unamused with Hangman.

“Wait. He’s straight?” Coyote asked looking completely stunned.

“You thought he was gay? And you thought he was a virgin?” Fanboy asked, looking disbelieving at the two pilots.

Rooster snorted and Omaha moved past them, mumbling something about going to the bathroom as he disappeared towards his room behind the kitchen.

“None of this is your business, Jake. You need to go apologize.”

Hangman started to protest but then Coyote popped his arm with the back of his hand to stop him. He huffed and said “fine” before disappearing down the stairs with Coyote.

“He was a dick the whole time we were gone. I think this whole “Savior” complex is going to his head. You should have heard the shit he was saying to any woman who was breathing at the lodge.” Fanboy said as he moved to the sink to wash his hands.

“Sounds like you found some snow bunnies though?” Phoenix asked, obviously wanting to change the subject.

Fanboy began helping Phoenix with the vegetables so Rooster decided to go downstairs and make sure Bob hadn’t killed hangman and gotten blood on the carpet.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs though, Rooster found a much different scene than he expected. The three men were sitting in recliners, talking. Bob in the middle with a pilot on either side of him. Rooster stopped in the doorway since they couldn’t see him and decided to listen in.

“You know I was just fuckin around with you right?”

“You do know I’ve been listening to that crap my entire career, right?”

“Aw man come on, its what we do. We screw with each other.”

“Hangman, when have I ever come across to you as the “screw with each other” type? My glasses and quiet demeanor do not automatically mean I am here as your personal punching bag. You have been an asshole to me since the moment we met, and you haven’t been much better.” Bob accused, looking over at Coyote. Rooster silently agreed. Both pilots had been unnecessarily pushy towards Bob.

There was silence for a few moments then Hangman spoke again.

“You’re right man. I’m sorry. I’m a dick by nature and I’ve never really given you chance. I just made assumptions and haven’t really gotten to know who you really are.”

Rooster was shocked and impressed at the sounds of an apology from Jake Serasin’s mouth. Coyote spoke up.

“I’m sorry too.”

“I appreciate that. Remember, we’re all on the same team. I graduated from the same Academy you did, from Top Gun the same as you. And unlike yall, I was actually chosen for the mission last week. I’d say I’ve earned some respect.”

Both pilots seemed impressed with the shade Bob had thrown them. Rooster was too. Go Bob he thought to himself.

“You are exactly right. So, let us make it up to you. Come out with us tonight. Just as buddies, no pressure on anything else. Do you dance? Drinks on me.” Hangman said as he clapped Bob on the back.

“I dance. I don’t drink thought.” Bob replied.

“Hey, I didn’t say alcohol.”

“Ok then, sure. Why the hell not.”

“Alright then.”

Rooster backed out of the door frame and returned up the stairs. He walked into the kitchen to see Phoenix and Fanboy hard at work. Phoenix looked up and asked, “Bob ok?”

“He’s got a sharper tongue than most realize. He put them both in their place. And apparently, we are, in fact, going clubbing tonight.”

Phoenix seemed appeased and Fanboy smiled and nodded his head as he started to dance while chopping.

“Oh yeah! This is going to be lit.”

Phoenix and Rooster looked at each other and laughed at their friend and his funny dance moves. Tonight, the Daggers were hitting the town.

Chapter 10 ->

8 notes · View notes

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, Im in love with the MM ‘the 1’ one shot. Broke my heart over it, please please could we have a part two, where they get back together and marry their ‘real one’ please x

< hi! i know this is way overdue and not completely what you asked for, but i sort of made a part 2, just with mason's side of the story - this love interest will eventually be the one he goes on to marry - his 'real one' x quick psa: decided to publish this one because of tonight's fwc heartbreak >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

to charm

SUMMARY: “Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

Where Mason falls over in the airport and 'some lucky person' helps him up...

WARNINGS: anxieties of plane accidents in bad weather; planes; READER HAS SHE/HER PRONOUNS; fluff; Mason being a self-labelled ‘cutie pie’; tripping in the airport (no, not y/n i’m not that cliche); swearing (a given tbh)

word count: 4.6k

GIF by mountmasns

Your eyes were watching the rain pound down from the grey sky with uncovered anticipation from your seat in the waiting area. The glass windows next to your seat gave you a clear view of the miserable weather, the dark clouds and the plane you were expected to board in half an hour, though a niggling voice in the back of your mind told you that if the weather carried on like it was, there was a high chance of it being delayed.

Though, honestly, you would rather it be delayed than have to sit bravely in the seats of the plane, trying to ignore the fact that you were in a suspended container in the middle of the sky, your mind set on taunting you with images of, well…

And even though you knew you hadn’t packed accordingly to anticipate a potential delay, you’d secretly breathed a sigh of relief after the announcement came over the loudspeakers, that the flight to Greece had been delayed by four hours. The waiting room gave an audible groan, some people rolling their eyes, but it eased your anxiety significantly, knowing you wouldn’t have to board just yet.

Your friends had suffered longer waits, and there were several cafes and newsagents and shops littered around to satisfy your boredom for long enough, and you had no qualms about lugging around a small suitcase and backpack.

You were one of the first ones out there. Having guessed there was a higher chance of a delay, you’d pre-zipped up your hoodie and put on your backpack and legged it out. There was a high chance that other flights had been cancelled too, and in which case, everyone would have flooded towards the bars and cafes.

You’d made it down the steps and had just passed a bar on your right when - out of the corner of your eye - someone you recognised from your gate peeked into your eyeline, obviously having the same idea to camp out in a shop or restaurant or something. They were wearing black sport shorts and a grey hoodie, the hood pulled up to hide their features. He also wore sunglasses, RayBans.

You recognised him because you remembered thinking it was a strange choice to look so sketchy in an airport.

He was walking hurriedly, a spring in his step, and you wouldn’t have paid him much attention but he’d been glued to his phone, his attention only deterring every few seconds to check his path wasn’t blocked by stragglers. He seemed eager to be on the move, as if he was in a rush to be somewhere or perhaps his flight had dented urgent plans.

You were headed to the nearest W H Smiths, desperate to get to the good books before the surge of people whose flights had been delayed took all the good ones, and you found yourself unconsciously following the man. He’d gotten a good way in front of you, enough space between the both of you to ensure people could pass in the gap, but still close enough that you could see the back of him.

It wasn’t that you were searching for him specifically, but every time you looked up to catch the signs, he was in front of you, and with his rushing around it wasn’t very easy to not notice him.

There was a screech from behind you, and your heart stuttered, and you whipped around, eyes searching, only to find a child on sitting on the floor, looking up at their parents in the outskirts of a restaurant, the kid’s face red with emotion and defiance as hot tears streamed down their faces.

You turned back around, continuing to walk towards your destination, but almost immediately after doing so, you yelped, stumbling and trying not to step on the body sprawled on the floor, a suitcase chucked on the tiles and a phone a couple of feet away.

It was the Rushing Guy.

You tried to stop yourself from tripping over him by strengthening the grip on your suitcase to stabilise yourself.

It worked, but the body was still on the floor, groaning and slowly moving as though they were in pain.

You quickly parked your suitcase next to you and knelt down next to him, not wanting to startle him by touching him, and instead made a move to take his phone out of the way from wandering people and collect his suitcase, “Are you alright?” You asked, and upon hearing your voice, the man turned to you with surprise, his glasses skewed on his face as the arms hung from one eye, giving you a mighty view of his face.

There was a light washing of stubble decorating his chin and there was a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His cheeks had reddened, most likely in embarrassment of having been caught falling over, and his eyes were - for lack of better word - striking. He had the most gorgeous brown eyes you’d ever seen.

He nodded, gaze first flicking to the suitcase you’d pulled up next to him, and then immediately going to the phone you’d presented to him. He took it gratefully, his glance bouncing across the corridor in some sense of panic, and scrambled to place his sunglasses back on his face.

“Thank you.” He murmured, and he tried to pull himself up, wincing slightly in pain as he did so.

You flashed him a reassuring smile, standing up with him.

There was something incredibly familiar about him, but your exhaustion from booking such an early flight clouded your judgement.

You scratched your nose awkwardly, noticing that nobody was actually looking at either of you, and you could sense when the familiar guy suddenly caught onto the same thing, because he loosened slightly, taking a glance back at his phone as if to check for cracks.

Within that time, you’d managed to grab your own suitcase, and were standing idly in the middle of the hallway when he turned to look at you once more, his mouth twisting into a small smile upon seeing the practised calmness echoed in your features.

It was clear he was on edge, and the last thing you wanted to do was escalate that. So you’d schooled your expression into one of reassurance.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and you turned your attention back towards him, unable to hide your shock. His own smile was breathtaking - the only thing your mind could register was dimples.

“Yeah, yeah,” you swallowed nervously, feeling slightly caught out about the unexpected question. To save him some dignity and protect his ego a little, you answered, “I just banged my knee a little, but I’m fine.”

It was lovely of him to ask, and you couldn’t deny you were rather pleasantly surprised at his consideration.

“So, you’re not hurt?”

You shook your head, “Completely unharmed…Thank you for asking.”

He shrugged, “Thank you for helping me up, I appreciate not many people would have done that.”

You nodded, the time spent talking to the mystifying man somewhat eating at your anxiety to get to the bookshop.

“It’s no problem, really…” you paused, feeling slightly guilty even though he was a stranger. But then — what if you actually knew the guy? If you did, you were sure he would have said something by now, so you figured you were in the clear. “But I should get going…”

His mouth parted, and you saw his eyebrows appearing from behind the sunglasses, “Shit, yeah, I’m sorry—”

“No, I should be—You’re on the flight to Greece that was just delayed, right?” Guilt consumed you upon seeing his somewhat hurt expression, and for some reason you felt compelled to ease the blunt blow.

“Ye-Yeah, I am. You too?” He stuttered, and you resisted the urge to smile at his nervous antics as his cheeks bloomed with a faint blush.

“Yeah.” You gulped, feeling your eyebrows knit together, “Maybe I’ll see you later?”

You knew you were rushing.

Gosh, why did you feel like you were betraying this man?

You’d never felt so vexed in a situation before.

“Maybe.” He replied, his brows disappearing as he reluctantly resigned to the realisation that you weren’t sticking around for long.

“See you later.” You said, and he waved awkwardly, repeating the sentiment.

As soon as you were out of his line of sight you took up speed walking, carefully dodging through the gaps in the crowds until you were faced with the bookshelf in W H Smiths.

You couldn’t help but feel excited. You’d packed books in your suitcase, but for some reason you’d forgone packing one in your backpack, and you’d initially just hoped that the flight would be short and your music would suffice, and that you’d get the chance to have a nap or two, but with the stressful four hours (at least) ahead of you, you knew there was no way you could possibly get through it without buying a book.

You settled for a Murikami one — The Elephant Vanishes. Not one you’d read before, but Murikami was a safe bet; his work was incredible and it never failed to plunge you into a completely different world.

You’d taken a seat on one of the spare rows not far from your own terminal, devoted to escaping from the airport, but every so often, your mind succumbed to flashes of Rushing Guy’s face — the flash of sorrow, or something akin to it.

It confused you, so to cope you’d set out a Three Step plan to distract yourself from your own mental anguish.

Buying the book was Step One of your mission to wait out the delay. Step Two was securing a table in a coffee shop. Step Three was to read at least another twenty pages. Step Four was optional, but it wouldn’t deter you from seeking out any opportunity to complete it anyway

Step Four was to talk to Rushing Guy. You needed to get the guilt out of your system, and a part of you secretly hoped that you’d just get to talk to him again. He was kind, and his eyes were nice. And the familiarity of his face was also an issue.

It was like recognising a song but not being able to place the singer or song title, and being completely honest, it jarred you.

You prided yourself on being good with names and faces, but for some reason his just came up as a blank.

That was how you found yourself in a cafe, the capacity almost full to the brim with people complaining about delayed flights and muttering about the predicted weather forecast, a cup of hot coffee and a plate of red velvet precariously balanced on a tray as you wandered aimlessly through the sea of people, attempting to pinpoint a free chair. You didn’t mind much if there wasn’t a free table, and you knew there was a higher chance of getting seating elsewhere, but you couldn’t walk out with plates, trays and mugs, so you were restricted to where you could dine.

And your exhaustion partly meant that you couldn’t be bothered exploring much more of the airport.

You’d wandered and weaved through the tables, somehow avoiding tripping over outstretched legs or pushed out chairs, until a table pushed and hidden away in a darker corner caught your eye.

As luck would have it, Rushing Guy was sitting by himself, phone on the table, his sunnies still on and hood still pulled over his head. His suitcase was next to him and his backpack was placed between his legs.

There was a free chair opposite and because you didn’t know any better just assumed he’d left the chair free instead of placing his bag on it like any other Brit would have done, to leave it available to stragglers.

You pondered over wandering over, but Step Four (Optional) was blaring madly in your mind - way too loud for you to possibly ignore it.

So you took the opportunity.

Your suitcase trailed lamely behind you, and you were hyper aware of the squeaking of the wheels.

You had barely made it within a few feet of his table when he’d looked up, having noticed the presence heading towards him.

He offered a timid smile upon seeing you hesitantly approach, and guilt — fucking guilt — coursed through you again, a tidal wave of self-reproach so strong it almost knocked you off your feet.

For some odd reason, however, you felt that his hidden face grounded you a little, knocking you back into reality. Your feet remained firmly planted on the floor, and—

“Would it be okay if—”

“Oh, it’s no problem, please do.” You could have melted at the genuineness in his tone, but simply placed your tray on the table, flexing your wrist to rid of its aching, and lined up your own luggage in a suitable place, away from the danger zone of customers — the last thing you needed was someone tripping over your luggage in such a busy place.

“Thank you.” You replied, introducing yourself to him.

He looked as if he was about to take his glasses off, but you saw his head tilt in the direction of the crowd, and he remained stationary, nothing but a smile left for you to get a read on him, “Mason.”

You refrained from asking if you’d ever met before, something telling you to wait it out.

“Do you mind me asking…if you’re going to Greece for business or pleasure?” You were hesitant, unable to read the expression on his face, and feeling slightly out of your own depth asking questions you’d usually keep to yourself, but he seemed genuinely glad to answer, a laidback smile on his face.

“Pleasure. I’m meeting a few friends out there for a quick holiday; they’re already there, I’ve just had to postpone it all for a couple of days, but…y’know. What about you - holiday or work?”

You breathed a laugh, somewhat intimidated by him as you looked at your hands fiddling in your lap, “Yeah, I’m off on holiday too, but my friends aren’t gonna be there for a couple of days. We’ve rented a small villa in Spartia. There’s a few empty rooms but – we’re all really looking forward to it honestly.”

“Yeah? How long have you had it booked?”

“About six months now. We had to pre-book everything to get the weeks off work and make sure everyone could make it on time and what have you. What about you? Are you staying anywhere nice or…?”

“A yacht, actually. One of my mates found one on this website, and apparently it’s pretty decent, I mean, I've been sent some pictures and it looks fantastic – Not far from Spartia, actually.”

You raised your eyebrows, unable to hide the impressed expression on your face, “A yacht? Fuck.”

“Yeah…I mean–” he stopped short, twisting his mouth up in consideration. “I can show you pictures, if you want?”

Truthfully, you’d never even stepped foot on a yacht before in your entire life, and the fact that Mason sounded so casually about such a matter made you think that perhaps it wasn’t exactly a new thing for him, so you jumped at the chance to see pictures.

It had barely taken ten seconds before he was sliding his phone along the table, a sheepish expression adorning his face as you flicked through the pictures. It was gorgeous - they were simple images, no people obstructing the view, of clean rooms and epic views of the ocean. The thought of how Mason would possibly be able to find the boat did cross your mind, but upon careful consideration, it would have made sense if the boat was locked in a specific location.

“Shit, that looks like heaven.” You flicked through his pictures, your mind being blown by every single image you saw. He seemed to live the dream life you'd always aspired to achieve, and it fascinated you. Then, your mind guiltily flicked to the earlier events, and you couldn't help addressing it as you slid his phone back to him, “I wanted to say I’m really sorry for earlier. For ditching you like that–”

“You had no obligation, please don’t feel like you were–”

“Obligated wouldn't have been the word to use, but I – It was rude of me to rush off after you’d been so polite to me. And I just wanted to apologise for that.”

He softened, flashing a small smile, lifting his sunglasses off his face allowing you to see his real expression, “You really don’t have to apologise, you did nothing wrong, but I hope that wasn’t the only reason you sat over here.”

His comment was shockingly flirty, and you froze, mid-spoon of red velvet. You couldn’t help the smile that took over your features, and you felt your cheeks redden as you pulled a knee up onto your chair - desperate for something to do to distract yourself, “No, I only sat with you because there’s no other seats available.”

He blanched, his eyes automatically going to scan the crowd, as though he’d only just remembered their presence. He sobered up slightly, shifting uncomfortably in his chair despite no one in particular paying much attention. You thought it was because of your comment, but you could see there was something else residing behind his eyes - perhaps a trace of paranoia. You saw his hands go to rest on his thighs - a nervous tick?

“Are you okay?” You asked, not for the second time in the last half an hour. There was a faint desire to place your hand over his, to prevent his knees from bouncing up and down, but you swallowed the urge - deciding it would have most definitely been weird to do such a thing.

He turned back to you as you took a small bite of your cake, “Airports stress me out. That’s all.”

You nodded, “Any particular reason?”

He shrugged, placing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, “Just a lot of people, and I guess the time restraints are kind of pressuring.”

You understood it - admittedly not in the way he intended to get his point across, but you understood where he was coming from. You got the people thing and the stress the time limits and deadlines to reach certain parts of the airport in order to not be late for a flight could cause. It was quite a lot of money riding on the simple act of you reaching the correct terminal at the right time, and an incredibly expensive mistake if you didn’t. But there was something else - almost a double meaning - behind his words that had you thinking deeper into his true intentions. It seemed as though he was talking about the people and time aspect from a different light, and your mind almost instantaneously seemed to cast you back to the hood and sunglasses. They were methods of hiding someone’s identity, and to add to the fact that his face was oddly familiar - like an unreachable itch. It was frustrating and it toyed with you endlessly.

Then, in the pictures he’d shown you: the contact that had sent him the photos of the yacht was Deccers.

Deccers and Mason.

Fuck.

That moment of realisation only came a little late.

You knew where you recognised him, and you cursed yourself for not putting it together sooner - it wasn’t as though you’d been watching the England men in the Euro’s only a couple of days ago, and you were sure Mason had become somewhat of an internet sensation throughout the entire competition. Deccers could only be Declan Rice, too.

So when he said he’d booked a yacht with his friends, there was a voice in the back of your mind telling you that half the England squad would be unwinding there, and the notion of that thought sent a tidal wave of nausea through your entire being, because now you were all too aware of the fact that if Mason caught onto the fact that you knew who he was, he’d just assume the only reason you’d be willingly spending time with him was for bragging rights.

It also made sense that he was so careful to hide his identity in the airport, and why he was so damn wary around people. You didn’t know if it was anger from the British public at England losing in the final, or just the sheer humane need and want for privacy on his end, but either way it made complete sense.

You schooled your expression into one of neutrality, forcing back the desire to tell him the truth — it was what he deserved, but a part of you wished to keep the easy dynamic between you, the dynamic that would ultimately be quashed with the addition of your new realisation.

God, how did you not immediately place him?

Saying you felt like a complete and utter idiot would have been the understatement of your entire life.

His face dropped slightly - his smile faltering and hand lowering to the table, “You’ve just clocked who I am, haven’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught out, and you pursed your lips, nodding, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” he waved his hand, flashing a warm, reassuring smile, as though he’d already had a scripted response, “I was hoping it would have taken a little while longer to catch on, but…”

“Wow, you must think quite highly of yourself, just assuming that I’d eventually recognise you.” You arched a brow, fighting a smile as he stuttered slightly, a short, awkward laugh being expelled, but before he could defend himself, you jumped in, taking advantage of his hesitancy, “Is that also why you took your glasses off and pulled your hood down? So that I’d be less inclined to recognise you?”

By now, he’d placed his head in his hands against the coffee table in something like resignation of how quickly the conversation had taken a different turn, but at your last words he straightened back up, something mischievous glinting in his eye. It sent a thrill of excitement shooting down your spine, the anticipation of his next words leaving you hanging off your seat.

“Oh, I actually did that to charm you. I figured – you know? I think I should show my face, let you see what a cutie pie I actually am underneath the disguise.” He shrugged, lifting a hand up from the table in mock seriousness, and breathing a laugh.

“To charm me? Cutie pie?” You laughed in disbelief and excitement at his words, clapping a hand to your mouth, “You’re wearing some Avengers-level type shit disguise, and you expected to go unnoticed in the first place?”

This time he furrowed his brows, and from the way he placed a finger between the two of you, visibly puzzled, you could just tell that he was slightly offended by the comments.

“Excuse me, but the so-called ‘Avengers-level type shit disguise’ is actually pretty effective. And you’re telling me you weren’t dazzled by my adorable brown eyes and pretty smile?” He laced his fingers under his chin and rested his head upon his hands to look up at you through his lashes.

It would have been cringey if it wasn’t so fucking funny, because you could tell he’d mocked the action purposefully and completely ruined the effect of it.

“Okay, okay.” You held up your hands, “I’ll admit, your big brown eyes are adorable, and you do have a pretty smile, and yes, it caught me a bit by surprise, but…” you shrugged, “At the end of the day, you’re using sunglasses and then ditching them to charm people, which kind of goes against the whole ‘nobody can recognise me’ agenda.”

He shrugged, taking a quick sip of his coffee and leaning forward on his elbows over the middle of the table, “I don’t know, I’m kind of glad you did recognise me.”

You were silent, the shock of his words numbing your mind.

“And I only flirt with the kind, gorgeous girls, and so far you’re the first one.”

***

You were standing in the line about to board the plane when a finger tapped you from behind. You waited a moment, preparing yourself by smothering the smile that had made its way onto your face. You knew who it was behind you - you’d both walked back to the gate together after a somewhat surprisingly enlightening conversation in the cafe. Time had flown by - a cliche that used to have you cringing out of horror - and you hadn’t even gone to pick up your book. Not once.

When you turned around, you weren’t met with the sunglasses, but those goddamn eyes boring into yours with a heated intensity. You raised your brows, and from the way he smirked, you figured he did the whole stare thing on purpose, especially after what you’d admitted to him earlier - something that you bitterly regretted you’d ever done.

“What can I do for you?” You asked.

You were spending an awful lot of energy trying to stop yourself from smiling and blushing under his gaze, and it was starting to grate on your nerves. No other man had ever had this effect on you after a mere conversation, and you were beginning to rethink every single previous relationship you’d ever been in because of it.

“I was thinking…when do you finish up in that villa you’re staying in?”

You swallowed, trying not to get ahead of yourself.

“In ten days.” A slight pause as his mouth twisted, trying to work out the dates in his head, “The 24th.” You clarified.

He nodded, smiling nonchalantly as he nodded his head in thought before turning back to you, “Would you maybe want to spend a couple of days on the yacht when you’re done? Your friends are welcome, and everyone would have their own rooms because some of the guys would have left by then…”

You tried to quell the excitement that was bubbling in your chest at the invitation, and - trying to downplay it - you simply responded with, “I’d have to check with everyone else…but I’d love to.”

You saw him bite the inside of his cheek momentarily, then he held out his hand, “Please could I have your phone?” He asked carefully, anxiety seeping into his eyes. For some reason he was more nervous about this part than the actual invitation.

“Sure.” You handed him your unlocked phone, curious as to what his intention with it was, then you smiled upon seeing him navigate to the contacts app and add in his details. He shot himself a quick text, and you heard his own phone buzz from his pocket.

“Feel free to text me anytime.” He handed it back, his own timid smile creeping on his face, and he tugged his hood further over his head, pulling at the strings of his hoodie as though to hide himself from you, and you took the liberty of looking down at the message he’d sent himself.

“Cool.” You read out.

“Cool.” He repeated, voice somewhat muffled through the material of the hood.

You turn back around in the queue, releasing the giddy grin that had been locked down, and calmly place your phone back into your pocket, facing the customer service desk, readily handing them your ticket and boarding pass.

When you settled into your seat, you didn’t even question it when Mason took the one next to you, nor did you bring it up in conversation when your phone pinged with an Instagram notification.

masonmount has requested to follow you.

You figured you’d wait until you landed to accept that one.

#mason mount x reader #mason mount oneshot #im so open to ideas for pt 2 of this

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

The Dark Path (Rock bottom Ch 4)

6k | Corey x Michael, Michael x Reader. NSFW

Something for everyone! Pt. 1: Beefcake Corey pumps iron. Pt. 2: Corey & Michael kill Mulaney. Michael on Corey. Pt. 3: Michael fucks (Y/N). Corey can't contain himself.

Rock Bottom Index - All Chapters

If you don't want gifs, you might wanna read on AO3. Throw me kudos for being a slut while you're at it & subscribe to get the next chapter a lil early.

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Ch 4 Part 1

Outside (Y/N)’s house, Corey walks around to the backyard. He bends down to pick up his heavy wrench from the dying grass. The cold metal slides and clinks into place as he moves. He imagines what it would have been like to kill the sad sack if Michael hadn't gotten to him first.

He goes to collect his backpack and sees a shape in the woods. His heart skips a beat. It feels like Michael is close. The shape walks in the opposite direction.

Corey gets on his motorcycle. His huge hands make it look like a toy bike from certain angles. He cranks the gas with a twist of his thick wrist. It’s a cold ride, and his large knuckles turn red and white.

Instead of going home, he rides to the Allen family’s abandoned mansion. He keeps some things hidden there for whenever he needs to get away from Joan. He puts on clean underclothes and takes a nap before work.

His day goes by in a haze of want. His clothes are clean, but he can still feel the essence of Michael and (Y/N) enrobing his cock.

At work, he's distracted and lets the hood of a Buick slam on his masculine hand. It doesn’t hurt, but the shock of it makes him yell. Ronald is worried about him - he's barely been coming home lately.

Corey is assigned scrap duty for the rest of the day. He heads behind the shop to their secondary scrapyard with a clipboard. He trudges through a sea of cars, most of them with no tires, parked on white granite rocks that gleam and blind him and crunch under his boots. Hoods are open, doors are off. A lot of models are from the 90s or 00s but some are older. He updates the part inventory as he walks. It’s boring.

Corey prefers challenging manual labor to tedious paperwork. Being a mechanic lets him use his engineering knowledge and curiosity while getting to touch and explore and fix things. He’s very good with his hands, and his hands are made for the job.

Doing inventory is mind-numbing. He has too much pent up energy and has to pass the time. At the back of the scrapyard, there's a bumper leaning against a 90s Saturn. He puts his clipboard down on the seat of a picnic table in the shade and takes his sleeves off, tying them around his waist. His nipples say it's too cold for this, but he doesn't feel it.

He hauls the bumper on his sculpted shoulder with one massive hand bracing it. He mounts the table, ass-first and his thighs and groin press up into the fabric of his jumpsuit as he scoots back and stretches out into place. He lays back and rests the car part on his sturdy chest. He spreads his thick fingers to get a good grip, then bench presses it.

His stamina is impressive and it takes a minute to even feel the burn. It starts in his hard pecs and spreads to his thick arms. As the bumper grows heavier, he breathes harder, winces, and his feet start to move. His white undershirt rides up and he can feel the air on his lower abs and V. He pauses at the top to steady his arms and breathe, his cheeks puffing out with air. He does a few more reps and discards the bumper.

His biceps bulge out of his white sleeves. The sleeves have ridden up to show his paler skin. He takes a rest then grabs a tire. The veins in his hands pump.

He firmly plants his feet in the gravel and sticks his glutes out for proper form. He holds the tire in front, bracing it with his large hands on each side, his hard triceps flexing. His empty jumpsuit sleeves loosen around his hips as he squats, but the pants are held up by his ass. His quads burn as he digs his boots into ground for leverage and continues squatting.

From the shop, he hears, "Corey! Lunch is here!" He sets down the tire with a thud and lets it roll away. It comes to rest against a Ford Bronco.

Corey pulls on his sleeves and goes to the office. He devours a footlong meatball sub, holding it with both hands, bracing his elbows on the break room table, his forearms flexing, mouth full, jaw and Adam's Apple moving with each bite.

He spends the rest of his break in the garage. He sits with his big legs spread, an elbow braced against his knee and curls a heavy tool box with just three fingers because the handle isn't big enough. He squints with every bulge of his bicep as he pumps, until he realizes his glasses are fogged and his armpits are damp all the way down the sides of his jumpsuit.

After lunch, at the back of the scrapyard, he does lunges, holding a tire. He lunge-walks down a row of cars, turns the corner and comes back through another row. His jumpsuit strains at the seat each time he comes down. He keeps going until he feels his lower back sticking to his jumpsuit with cold sweat, potentially drawing attention to his prominent glutes.

His face is hot. His curls are damp and matted to his forehead. A bead of sweat rolls down his thick, tan neck. He catches his breath and picks up the clipboard again.

After work, Corey goes home and instantly regrets it. A few days ago when he didn't come home, Joan was beside herself. This time, she's unhinged. Her northern accent intensifies into a monologue that doesn't end until Corey leaves.

"Who's been taking advantage of my baby boy?! Who?! I can smell her on you, Corey. She doesn't love you! You know none of them care about you, Corey. You're handsome. You're sensitive. They should be so lucky. Your mother loves you, Corey! Come home to your mother! What's happening to my baby boy?!"

His deep, gruff voice interrupts her painful whine. "I'M FINE, MA," is all he says.

"OH MY GOD, COREY, YOUR NECK!"

Corey opens the fridge.

"OH, COREY, I'm so sorry. Let me go buy you some chocolate milk! I’ll be right back, you stay right here." She grabs her wallet and nods to herself like that’s going to fix everything. Then she remembers, "Oh, you know what? Do you want some custard? There's some custard in the fridge!" She puts her arms on his hulking back and arms.

So now boys who keep secrets get custard. Too little too late. “No thanks, Ma.” She grabs her keys off the wall, distressed.

Corey goes upstairs to wash. He plugs the drain and turns on the water. He looks in the mirror as the bath fills. His jumpsuit hugs his broad shoulders and chest. He peels it off, followed by his soaked undershirt. His muscles are still pumped up. His neck is still red from Michael choking him.

His large fingers graze the marks on his neck. It turns him on, but he's saving himself, and he can't relax with Joan like this. (Y/N) hadn't even mentioned his neck. She must have known. His eyes well up as her essence fades away in the bath. Being inside her felt like being sucked by an angel. They’ve barely explored each other. The things they could do.

When Corey pulls the plug to drain the bath, Joan yells right outside the door, "COREY?! Are you alright?!"

“I’M FINE, MA,” he says again. He changes into jeans and a button-up shirt. The stairs rumble as he lets his weight carry him down.

"I've gotta go, Ma." Joan grabs him and forcefully kisses him on the lips as he leaves. It's like she's afraid it's the last time she'll see him. Maybe it will be, he thinks.

Corey picks Allyson up on his motorcycle. Her small arms wrap around his ample torso. Part of him would rather feel Michael’s bulky arms, just to know what it’s like to feel small.

Corey didn’t have a dad growing up. By the time Joan met Ronald, Corey was becoming a man. It was all handshakes and pats on the back, an occasional brief hug if he needed one. He’s never known the true embrace of a man’s strong arms.

Being close to Allyson reminds Corey of what he likes so much about her. She has the energy of someone who has lived through hell. She's experienced Michael Myers in spree killer mode. It's clear she came away changed in some way. She must have a dark streak, Corey knows it. He just has to tease it out. The tinder is there. He just needs to light the match.

Allyson's arms feel good around him. He wants to have her as his own, but he also wants to feel understood. It’s not possible for Allyson to understand him the way (Y/N) does. The way he thinks Michael might. If Corey can tempt Allyson onto the dark path, she’ll understand. Then he can have it both ways - someone of his own, and someone who understands.

He longs to bring Allyson over, but the notion also feels dangerous for Michael, and therefore Corey, thanks to Laurie Strode. Laurie is Michael's most dangerous predator.

At the diner, Corey pretends to study the menu, but he always gets a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake. What he's really doing is weighing his options with Allyson.

Aside from the threat of Laurie, monogamy is Corey's other point of hesitation. He assumes Allyson would expect it. A few days ago, he would have expected it. He would have embraced it, loved it. It was his natural inclination. But now, he doesn't know if he can help himself.

It's not just Michael that he wants to stay open to. The idea of not being with (Y/N) again is physically painful. He's thinking about her more than he expected. Corey still wants Michael to own him – if that's what it takes. But Corey loves pussy, too. Why can't he have it all?

Corey wasn’t like this before, or if he was, he didn’t realize it. He certainly didn’t act on it. This uninhibited appetite all started with Michael's hands around his neck.

When Corey first met (Y/N) in 2019, that was almost a year after the botched transfer from Smith’s Grove, so she already knew Michael. Michael already knew her. For all Corey knows, she was a choir girl before Michael let her survive.

Corey decides he'll give Allyson a tour of the dark path, and whether she stays on it is up to her. He starts by baring his soul as they eat. He shares enough of his darkness to intrigue her and be truly vulnerable. His dark eyes fill with genuine tears.

He devours his burger, grease dripping down both of his strong, sculpted hands. He listens to Allyson, and she seems to feel the same. He sinks his teeth into the despair that underpins her story. Haddonfield has chewed them up and spit them out. As he slurps the last of his chocolate milkshake, things seem to be coming together.

They each have their own reasons, but it seems like he and Allyson want the same thing, in principle: to burn it all down. Destroy the town that destroyed them. She may not realize what this looks like to Corey, but it’ll come with time. He’ll make a bad girl out of her.

When Doug Mulaney tries to start some shit at the diner, Corey knows what he has to do, but he’s tempted to take him on man-to-man right there.

Corey’s always been equipped to handle himself, but there was a terrible irony. Before the accident, he never really needed to defend himself. Afterwards, he did, but he couldn’t risk appearing aggressive or even capable of harm.

Post-accident, he would cower all the time, and when he got bullied or roughed up, he’d take it like a punching bag. He was afraid of hurting anyone. It would feel bad and also be the talk of the town. Things would get even worse for him.

Physically though, he was always more than capable. God gave him a sturdy frame, and on top of that, he works out.

For as long as he can remember, he's been starting his morning with push-ups just to feel the burn in his pecs, then he flips over and brings his fingers to his curly hair and does crunches.

He has a pull-up bar on his bedroom door. He can watch an entire episode of the Regular Show while doing pull-ups and chin-ups. He doesn’t even keep count.

He likes to feel his shoulders and triceps harden; his biceps and forearms bulge. He bends his knees and crosses his ankles behind himself to fit in the door frame. Then, for a different burn in his ample thighs, he brings his legs in front.

He spends his downtime working out, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's doing it. It feels good and it's an escape.

Doug Mulaney, on the other hand, looks like he probably sits in his patrol car all day. While Mulaney is eating donuts and writing tickets, Corey spends his work day lifting heavy objects and using industrial sized tools. His hands and arms are so powerful that he can lift a tire overhand, palm-down, like a tote bag. Doug needs a gun to protect himself. Pussy.

Corey could absolutely take Doug Mulaney one-on-one, but he has to resist. He’s been looking for prey to bring Michael, and he found it.

He drops Allyson off at home. They share a steamy kiss that makes Corey hard. She’s obviously keen to get him into bed, but Corey is too focused. Another dose of the warm and fuzzy hormones will help bring her over where she needs to be, but not right now.

Ch 4 Part 2

Mulaney makes it too easy by tailing Corey on his way home. It will take no effort at all to bait him into the lair. At the very least, Corey will get to watch Michael even closer. If Corey is really lucky, maybe he'll get the (Y/N) treatment - pinned to the wall by Michael's most precious weapon.

Corey is still trying to wrap his head around Michael as a sexual entity. If the kill is what turns him on, Corey needs to be the closest person in vicinity when he kills. He parks his bike under the overpass.

Corey baits Mulaney through the encampment and toward the drain and visualizes what the kill will be like. He reflects on Michael’s last kill - the one he witnessed - and realizes Michael never even stabbed the guy. It was boss the way he strangled him with the floor lamp, but when he finished him off from arm’s length with a single slash, Michael almost looked bored.

Watching Michael kill was exhilarating, but watching him really come to life and stab someone, blood splattering on Corey’s neck – the thought of it hardens him more. With Corey bringing the prey, surely Michael will let him participate in the kill.

Mulaney follows Corey through the sewer, into the cavern, searching with his flashlight and taunting Corey out loud. The bright light lands on devious Corey.

Michael emerges from the shadows but doesn’t pounce. He looks feeble, almost confused, like Corey is interrupting his nap. Or maybe, he's letting Corey take the lead.

Corey has never felt so alive as he prepares to slash with Michael. He weakens and disorients Mulaney, incurring only a bloody nose and mouth in the process. He’s tempted to go all-in, but it's Michael’s turn. Michael moves slowly. Corey can’t wait to see him work.

Michael’s shrunken posture makes Corey look even larger. He urges, "Get up, get up, GET UP!" Michael pulls a rusted knife from the wall and Corey's body tingles with anticipation from his nipples to his groin. "Show me how," he says. "I need you to show me!" There are so many things he wants Michael to show him.

Michael swings. Mulaney stumbles back against Corey's broad chest. They fall to the ground, Mulaney’s weight spread across Corey’s sturdy body. Michael lunges toward them. Corey curls his big arms under Mulaney's, which are thin in comparison. He braces for impact, breathing heavily as he watches the Shape’s every move.

Michael wields the old rusted knife like a dagger. He raises the blade then plunges it into Mulaney's chest. Corey feels the tense body relax into dead weight in his arms. Corey breathes heavily and rapidly, spellbound. He doesn't take his eyes off Michael as the blood drains from their prey. Michael yanks out the knife, splattering blood across Corey's face. His arousal swells.

Something comes over Michael. He tenses and adjusts his grip on the knife. The black holes of the mask seem to look into Corey like the first time they met. Corey understands.

He braces Mulaney against his chest, and Michael thrusts the blade into him again. And again. Corey's eyes follow the blade. He savors the vantage point of Michael shafting into him. It has the same energy as Michael’s final thrusts into (Y/N). Every time Michael plunges the blade into Mulaney, Corey's solar plexus shoots rays of pleasure into his whole body. He could not imagine a more erotic experience.

Michael takes one step back and slowly stands up straight. Corey lets go of Mulaney and the dead weight slumps to the ground. Corey's jeans tighten with desire. His ass tingles. His chest heaves and he wipes saliva and blood from the corners of his mouth as he watches Michael. Corey's cock is throbbing.

Michael rolls his shoulders back and seems to reach an even darker frequency. Corey's eyes gravitate to Michael's crotch, which appears to bulge, just as Corey expected. It's not just his crotch, though. His muscles appear to pump, too.

Michael's arms and shoulders flex and he begins to quiver with energy. The tired old man from moments ago is a distant memory. Corey takes in Michael's entire form. His sculpted arms are visible through his sleeves. The stabbing has reanimated his truest self.

Corey aches to be filled. There's a space deep in his core that can only be filled by Michael. He flattens his massive hand against his clothed erection and winces while he waits for Michael's next move. The base of his shaft contracts and a wave of pleasure blooms deep in his core. He's afraid he might come in his pants, but he's not ready.

The last time Corey was in the sewer, the mask penetrated his eyes. Michael injected something intangible and indescribable into him that day. Corey, who was on the verge of disappearing, was transformed instead. Now he’s dying for Michael to penetrate him deeper. Turn him darker, freer. He can almost feel it happening.

Michael turns his head slightly. The fingers of his free hand twitch. Corey tries not to take his eyes off Michael as he begins to unfasten his own belt, thrusting into his own wide wrist as he does it. He's so hard.

Michael steps closer. His breath is loud behind the mask. He raises the knife. Corey reflexively scrambles to his feet and backs away until his back is flat against the wall. His unbuttoned jeans are held up only by the excruciating swell in his briefs. Michael raises the knife to Corey's sculpted throat and closes the distance between them.

Michael presses the side of the cold metal blade against Corey's thick neck, from his Adam's Apple to his jaw. It’s angled upward, with Michael’s large, leathered hand near Corey’s ear. The blade follows the hickey-like bruises from Michael's fingers. Michael takes a final step, and his foot is between Corey's feet.

Michael's sturdy thigh presses into Corey’s rock-hard, pulsating arousal. Corey can't help but thrust against him. Michael presses the knife harder against Corey’s throat, making him cough.

Corey feels something move against the bottom right edge of his abs. He's overcome with arousal to realize it’s Michael's cock, straining the leg of his jumpsuit, spanning from Corey’s lower abs to his thigh. It's thick and hard, like a warm lead pipe. Corey thrusts his aching bulge into Michael's thigh and Michael further presses the blade.

Corey feels a sharp pang of pleasure in his taint. He dares to grind his hip into Michael's engorged length, but Michael presses his own hip swiftly and firmly against Corey so he can no longer move. Corey is aching for relief. If he hadn't come so much in the past day or so, he's certain the sight of Michael's bulging jumpsuit would have made him come already.

Michael shows no signs of wanting his own release. Maybe it’s true what she said, that Michael loves pussy, but that doesn’t mean anything, because so does Corey. And what’s more, here’s Michael pressing an enormous erection into Corey’s body.

Corey tries again to press his body into Michael’s arousal. He wants to feel its warmth, feel it move. Michael’s hardness grows and his body stiffens further. Corey tilts his pelvis in a few small pulses to create friction and stimulate himself. His pre-cum soaks through Michael's jumpsuit.

A car horn blares outside. Michael looks down and away then relaxes the knife slightly, but keeps it against Corey’s skin. With the knife relaxed, Corey gasps and catches his breath.

Michael steps back, separating his jumpsuit from Corey's jeans and observes the wet spots on both of them. Then Michael looks away slightly. Something is distracting him. He sniffs the air.

Dread sets in. What was Corey thinking? Michael let him live and was letting him get close. He trusted Corey, and Corey betrayed him. He must know it. Michael growls almost imperceptibly, as though in agreement, and steps back into him.

Corey feels the blade of the knife rotate and dig in beneath his jaw. Michael could kill him with the flick of his wrist, but he holds it steady. Then, the sharp blade begins to drag slowly, very slowly, but lightly, along Corey's jaw. Corey feels a hot, thin line of blood separate into multiple narrow streams and stream down his neck. This is real.

Corey pleads "no, no, no, not yet" and grinds into Michael’s hard-on as though to show what he can offer. He wants to become one with Michael before he dies.

Michael pauses.

A knock on the drain pipe echoes through the cavern. Michael jerks the blade, slicing Corey's neck as he flings the knife across the cave. Blood oozes out of the slit. It's more than a trickle but doesn't gush. It missed the jugular.

(Y/N)’s voice echoes through the drain pipe. “Are you in there?”

Michael releases him. Without looking back, Michael walks with a purposeful, upright stride to the drainage pipe, then drops to his knees and gets in. It’s the first time he’s seen Michael on his knees, which does something to him. Michael’s lumberjack body fills the drain more than Corey’s, despite Corey’s broad, muscular stature.

Corey suddenly feels cold and unclothed without Michael against him. He listens to the echo of huge, heavy knees on the metal as Michael exits the drain.

Ch 4 Part 3

Rather than follow Michael out of the drain, Corey quickly fastens his belt and tiptoes across the cavern. He hides in a crevasse. Water plinks down from the ceiling. His hard-on is still raging. He’s so high on the kill that he wonders if he’s dead. He can’t believe how well this night has gone, even with blood running down his neck.

Corey killed with Michael. He awakened a higher energy in Michael. It’s nothing compared to the transformation Michael gave Corey, but returning the favor to some small degree makes Corey feel even closer to Michael. Michael not only choked him tonight, but sliced him. Then, astoundingly, pressed his warm, lethal cock against his body.

Corey was lucky. Michael may not have sensed his betrayal after all. The sense of relief dissuades him from pressing his luck any further tonight. He shouldn’t have gotten greedy. He can always see if things escalate next time. Before things go south, he needs to leave.

Corey can’t exit through the main pipe or he might run into them. He doesn’t know what (Y/N) would do or say. He’s almost more afraid of her reaction than Michael’s. If she can’t play it cool, Michael will know.

Corey surveys the dark cave for any sign of another exit and makes his way down the main hall, pressing his wrist against his zipper against his aching want. He considers stopping to jerk off but doesn’t.

He walks quietly but briskly to the end of the cave. He approaches the area with Mulaney on the ground. It looks like a dead end, but once he’s all the way at the wall, a very faint, dusty beam of light catches his eye to the right. He goes through the crevasse with the soft blue light, and sees that it’s a grate up above, not an exit.

Moonlight shines down through the squares above, illuminating a round room. There’s a fire pit and a huge, iron spit in the middle. Bones are stacked up around the edge of the room. It’s like a catacomb. Many of them look old, almost dry, but a few look fresh with bits of tendon clinging onto them. Corey walks around the perimeter. There’s a bone saw against the rock wall and a tin of matchbooks.

He approaches the middle of the room. The fire pit is round and made of smooth, pale stones. The spit has scraps of burned meat stuck to it. Corey steps closer. It smells like barbecue. He looks down into the fire pit. Those aren’t rocks, they’re human skulls. The blood drains from Corey’s face. His heart races and he stumbles backwards but catches himself. This is Michael’s Ossuary and Grill.

Thumping and dragging noises begin to echo from the drain pipe. The thumps are irregular. A faint light begins to bounce around the cave. Corey scrambles to find somewhere to hide as the thumps get louder. He finds a nook between the ossuary and another room in the cavern. He can still see into the ossuary. He hopes the ossuary can’t see into him. The echoing thumps stop.

The artificial light brightens. Footsteps start, and the light moves in rhythm with the steps. There are two sets of footsteps. She asks, “Should I call it in?” Silence. Footsteps. Her voice is getting closer. “Okay. Hey, it’s okay. I just wish I knew who killed Nelson.” The vagabond, Corey realizes. He’s lying dead with a flashlight right outside the tent. That was part of his trap for Mulaney.

The lighter footsteps stop. “Wait, there’s already someone here,” she says. Corey’s heart races and he holds his breath. He can’t see them. He doesn’t know how she knows. Maybe she heard him breathing. Shoes scuff the ground and there’s a rustling sound.

“DOUG MULANEY? Jesus Christ, Michael.” Michael never stops walking. “I don’t even know what to say.” Corey exhales. The lighter footsteps quicken to catch up. "Did he find you?" They're very close.

Corey can see two shapes enter the ossuary, the huge one carrying another figure over its shoulder. Michael's breath is audible. There's a rustling and a loud thump. Duct tape rips off loudly, echoing through the cavern. Corey tries not to look, lest their light catch the reflection of his eyes. The light turns off.

He hears the snap of a match and the wind of a flame. A whoosh followed by crackling. The ossuary is gradually illuminated with a warm, flickering, orange light. It’s quiet for a minute. Too quiet for Corey to move. The warmth of the fire barely reaches Corey but is welcome. The room starts to smell like barbecue.

***

(Y/N) is sitting on the ground against the wall, catching her breath. Out of view, there’s a drag of metal on rock, probably the bone saw. She groans in disgust. "Yeah, think you’ve got this,” she says. “I should get going.”

The saw clatters to the ground. Heavy footsteps cross the room. Michael bends down and grabs her by the throat, then drops to his knees in front of her. He still towers over her, even with his knees spread over her legs. He doesn’t pick her up. Instead, he uses his other hand to jerk her toward him. With the hand around her throat, he forces her back onto the ground.

She chokes as he drags her closer, by the throat. Her torso comes to a stop between Michael’s knees. She manages to sit up on her elbows. She reaches out hesitantly, like she’s trying to catch a wild animal. Michael lets her touch his chest. His grip loosens and she gasps for air.

He sits back on his gargantuan haunches, which puts his clothed erection against her yoga pants. She gasps and looks straight ahead. The blood drains from her face. She reaches for his crotch as if her eyes deceive her. She runs her hand down the fabric, feeling his entire length. It must be the size of her forearm.

“Holy shit,” she says. Corey wonders if he's responsible for Michael's enhanced arousal. Blood rushes to his groin.

Michael cages her to the ground and yanks down her yoga pants. She looks apprehensive. She reaches for Michael’s chest. His hand snatches hers and brings it just below his upturned collar.

He slowly pulls down his zipper with her little hand. Corey's heart races. She tries to stop it but is no match for his strength. He grabs the sides of his upturned collar and thrusts his massive chest forward. The collar and jumpsuit fall back and a more precise silhouette of his back and arms emerge. He lets the long sleeves hang to his sides.

The firelight isn’t great, and the angle isn’t perfect, but from what Corey can see, Michael wears a dark, almost too-small t-shirt. His muscles are utterly unreasonable. His arms are the size of her thighs.

Corey looks around frantically but doesn’t find a better view. He desperately wants to see everything, but this is also his best chance to escape.

Michael's expansive back and empty sleeves obstruct the view of his crotch, but his back in itself is a vision, even under the dark t-shirt. He yanks the rest of her pants off and nudges her legs open with a giant knee, making space for himself.

Finally, Corey catches a glimpse of that monster cock. It’s commanding. Michael lowers himself over her before he can see it in more detail. She moans at the feeling of his naked girth hard against her. She rolls her hips. She must be so wet. But as Michael begins to position himself for entry, she begs, “please," she squirms, "it’s too much.”

Corey reaches for his pants and palms himself desperately with his massive hand. He shifts slightly toward the exit of his nook just in time to see her back arch as Michael shoves himself into her. She groans loudly and his enormous hand grabs her throat. His hulking muscles move gracefully under his shirt as he begins to fuck her. Corey can’t pull himself away.

Michael pushes slowly at first, like he’s letting her accommodate his even larger-than-usual size. She cries and paws at his chest. Every thrust is so powerful. Her legs are spread wide with her knees up. Michael never takes off his mask.

Her face hotly twists in pain. He persists. With time, her cries turn into soft moans and occasional gasps. She reaches up to his chest as she stares into the mask holes. His large hand swallows hers. They’re both sweating by the fireside as Michael's hips powerfully meet hers again and again.

Corey tries to ground himself. If he has any hope of moving things forward, he must make it out of this cave tonight. He backs away slowly. His arousal aches terribly, but he can’t indulge it, not right now. He needs his wits about him.

Michael just barely grunts, and it stops Corey in his tracks. It’s the hottest sound he never thought he’d hear. He steps back to where he was. He has to watch, come what may. He makes himself a deal. He can stay a few minutes if he doesn’t touch himself. Corey wants Michael, but he also wants to be Michael inside of her.

Michael grabs her hips and pulls her into him harder. Her feet come into the air and wrap loosely around him. Her legs are so small against Michael’s body. His rhythm quickens and he leans down closer.

Michael’s arms glisten and bulge out of his short sleeves. His strong forearms slide under her. With an emphatic thrust, he pulls her against him and scoops her up. He sits back on his haunches and holds her tight against himself. He grips her by the waist with her legs draped over his hips and continues to pound into her cunt.

He moves her rhythmically against his lap, jamming her down around his cock every time he thrusts. Her feet stick out behind him and bounce in the air each time she comes down on his shaft. She gasps throatily. Michael’s hands dwarf her. She looks like a doll getting bounced around. Michael breathes heavily and wraps his arms tighter.

Corey wants to fuck her like that. He also wants Michael to wrap his arms around him like that. He feels pre-cum seeping into his jeans. His cock twitches desperately.

Michael moves his hands to her ass and she hangs on around his broad neck, her arms grazing the bottom of his mask. He pulls back his speed, fucking her slower but with just as much power and pipe. After a minute, he slides his hands up her sides to her armpits. His thumbs cross her nipples, palms engulfing her breasts. He brings her down hard on his cock and Michael Myers audibly moans.

It’s too much for Corey. He brings his wrist down to his pants, unsure if he’s trying to stop it or get it over with. At the slightest friction, his cock empties itself in dramatic pulses. It feels like it happens in slow motion. A small gasp escapes his mouth.

She looks in Corey’s direction and her eyes widen just as he steps out of view. Michael keeps fucking her, unaware. Corey's heart pounds. His briefs feel full and warm.

It’s a challenge for Corey to move quietly. He's a big, burly guy. Every step he takes is heavy. He tries his best to silently slink toward the drain pipe. Sounds of animalistic fucking echoing through the cavern, masking his footsteps.

He hears breathing. Groaning. Rubber soles squeaking against wet rock. Fabric scraping the ground. She wails, he grunts.

Corey reaches the pipe and gently crawls into it. He goes very slowly, one big knee at a time, his large, filthy hands spread out in front of him. His knuckles are white. Moonlight is visible ahead. In the distance, behind him, he hears a whine, a choke, a slap, and a scream.

Then, he hears traffic from the overpass and feels cool, fresh air against his face. Just a little further and he steps out of the tunnel and collects himself. He uses his massive palms to brush off his knees. He jogs out of view of the drain. He sees the red truck, and has the passing urge to get inside and wait for (Y/N). But after such a close call, he's committed to not sabotaging himself, at least for now. She'll be sore anyway.

Continue with CHAPTER 5

______________________________________________

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realm-sweet-realm · 8 months ago

Text

One For All, chapter four

In an AU where the protagonist never fell from the sky, the Survey Corps will have to pull together and make use of every resource at their disposal to face the challenges present in Pokemon: Legends Arceus. There will be surveyshipping.

Sorry for the long wait between chapters- the next one should be up in about a week.

---

The Survey Corps members moved aside for Laventon as he approached the pastures, each understanding that the quest of the lake guardians would take precedence. Laventon didn't have many Pokémon that were trained as anything but research subjects, but he gathered his typhlosion and beautifly nonetheless, along with some particularly mysterious specimens he hoped would come in handy. He then stuffed his backpack with healing items, food, and crafting materials and met the others at the gate. It wasn't long before the six were gathered.

"According to Cogita, the materials we need to forge the red chain can be obtained from beings in the three lakes," Cyllene reiterated once everyone was present. "Splitting up seems inadvisable until we know what exactly the trials will entail. We'll start at Lake Acuity, as it's the furthest from any route Kamado is likely to be taking. I've gathered enough flying Pokémon from the pastures to transport those of you who do not have your own. My staraptor is fit to carry two. Laventon?"

"Alright, you'll ride with me. Let us be off." Cyllene took out the staraptor and mounted it. Laventon got on behind her as the other four got onto various flying creatures themselves.

With that, the staraptor took off into the air, the other four following. Afraid of falling, Laventon grabbed onto Cyllene's waist. If she minded, there was no sign of it. Everything looked so small from the sky, and the air rushed past them as though they were going a thousand miles an hour.

In less dire circumstances, this might be very pleasant, Laventon thought. Then he took a closer look at the world below.

From the up high, the disarray caused by the bleeding sky was already apparent. Grasses were beginning to wilt and turn brown, and normally docile Pokémon were running about, agitated and confused. Worse was that in the distance, Kamado's army could be seen marching up the trails of the Coronet Highlands. Laventon looked up at the hole in the sky, two massive shining creatures seeming to peer through it, and it dawned on him that he might not live to take a recreational flight.

The group landed on the island in Lake Acuity, returned their birds, and entered the small cavern without much thought, only to be faced with a ghostly maned fox that was larger than an ursaluna.

"Is that- the vengeful fox?" Irida exclaimed, terrified. It was so much bigger than the legends had said.

Whatever it was, it charged towards the group, teeth bared.

Volo ran to the front of the group and threw out a Pokémon- a strange, ghostly thing Laventon didn't recognize. "Dark pulse," Volo ordered. The second the dark beam caught up to the charging zoroark, it went down. That was another disturbing thing about Volo- he always seemed to have just enough power to handle any given task, and no one quite knew how he'd acquired it.

In a flash of light, a small, blue figure appeared in the center of the cave. Though the creature was small, power could be felt emanating off of it in waves. Cogita had described the being with a yellow hood as being the representation of knowledge. Was this it?

R e i came a voice. It was like a horrible vibration in Laventon's skull, but somehow he could tell that it had come from the lake guardian. S t e p f o r w a r d. M y t r i a l i s y o u r s.

Rei stepped forward.

S h o w m e h o w y o u h a v e u s e d y o u r c a p a c i t y t o l e a r n. I w i l l j u d g e i t s w o r t h i n e s s.

Rei hesitated, trying to work out what exactly he'd learned that might impress the being. It wasn't though he was terribly intellectual- wouldn't Laventon be a better choice for this? But he had to try.

"Well... I learned how to make a pokéball," Rei said. "I guess I could show you."

Rei knelt down and took out his crafting kit. "Basically, you just have to make something hollow. The nuts are already hollow, and I take the ores to a smith to make the top half. You just put the two parts into the seal belt, and that’s all they need to be functional,” Rei explained as he cobbled together a basic ball. “There's other stuff you can add, though. One thing that’s a really good idea is the spark release on top, so you know when a catch has been successful. Without that, you might think you’ve caught something only to have it burst out in your face when you go to pick up the ball. Aside from that, there’s different types of ore for different weights, and iron for better quality. And that's pretty much all I know."

The strange pixie twirled in the air and then lowered itself down to Rei's level, presenting him with something in its tiny hands: what looked like a fragment of claw.

T a k e t h i s p i e c e o f t h e s p i r i t a n d b i n d t h e s k y o n c e m o r e.

"Is this... for the chain?" Rei asked. But before he even finished speaking, the Pokémon was lifting into the air and was already fading away- perhaps teleporting, or simply destroying what had always been a mere representation of itself controlled from elsewhere.

"Wait! I have so much to ask you! We need your knowledge to fix the sky!" Rei called out, chasing after the form. A few steps into the chase, the creature had faded entirely, and Rei stopped.

"You did well, Rei," Cyllene assured him.

"Indeed you did," Laventon added. "I'm sure it has its reasons for not granting us its knowledge."

The trip to Lake Valor was uneventful, and this time the group had a better idea of what to expect. Cyllene led the group in, on alert for a Pokémon standing guard. No sooner did she poke her head into Valor Cavern then were a barrage of poisoned quills shot at her. She scrambled out and took out her alakazam, which put up a forcefield.

"Laventon, can you identify what Pokémon these barbs are from? I didn't get a good look at the Pokémon that shot them."

Careful not to exit the safety of alakazam's forcefield, Laventon picked up a barb from the ground. He squinted as he looked at the quill, trying to place where he'd seen anything similar.

"Those are definitely from an overqwil," Adaman cut in. "Looks like a big one, too. Their only weakness is ground."

"Then I know something that might help," Irida said, taking out her Celestica flute. With a few notes, an ursaluna came running over the hill. It swam through the lake and shook itself off once it washed up on the island, soaking the six humans.

"Hey, big guy," Irida said, giving the bear a stroke on the cheek and ignoring the grime she was now coated with. "I know you're usually a finder, but would you mind fighting something for us today?"

The ursaluna grunted in acknowledgment and shuffled into the cave. After taking out a few additional psychic-types to bolster Alakazam's forcefield, the others followed in and watched as the bear charged the enormous pufferfish. The overqwil expelled its quills, but most of them bounced off the bear's thick hide as easily as they bounced off the forcefield, and those that did prick it didn't seem to bother the ursaluna in the slightest. The ursaluna roared, reared up, and took the giant fish in its mouth, shaking it around as it deflated. It threw the fish against a wall and then ran to it and slashed with its claws until it was satisfied that the job was done.

No sooner had the bear returned to Irida's side did a light begin to shine in the middle of the cave. From the light, another sprite appeared- the one Cogita had called "Azelf."

L a v e n t o n, came the spirit's voice, s t e p f o r w a r d. M y t r i a l i s y o u r s.

Laventon glanced nervously at the others and then stepped forward.

Y o u m u s t c a t c h m e, Azelf stated. A large bag of ultra balls appeared in Laventon's arms. Then, Azelf turned into a shiny zubat and flew out of the cavern.

Laventon continued to cast nervous looks at his companions. He probably seemed on the brink of panic. "This is much more suited to any of you, I mean-"

"Laventon," Cyllene said, "We will help you however we can, but Azelf wanted you. It must have its reasons. You can do this."

Rei gave a nod of agreement. "I had the same thought with my trial. If I could do mine, you can do yours." Behind Rei, the clan members were nodding as well.

“Jolly good,” Laventon said, straightening up. “Irida, I’ll need use of Ursaluna’s nose.”

"You have my blessing," Irida said.

Laventon mounted the bear. Ursaluna didn't wait for orders. As soon as Laventon was securely upon it, it took off back into the lake and began swimming across. Laventon had to pray it knew what it was doing. As the bear neared the opposite shore, Laventon looked back at his companions, following him on various flying Pokémon. Ursaluna ascended over the hills, and that's when Laventon caught sight of a glimmer of hope: to their left was a colony of zubat flying about in the shade of a forested area.

The bear took an aggressive right.

"No!" Laventon told it. "Ursaluna, you have to turn around!"

Then, Laventon saw it. A shiny stantler in the fields was looking at him with a competitive gleam in its eye.

"Oh my, Azelf has taken a new form! Ursaluna, you're a genius!"

The stantler took off at a run. It was faster than Ursaluna.

"Stop," Laventon ordered. The bear skidded to a stop. Moments later, the other five landed. "I need something swift enough to catch up to Azelf. Cyllene, may I borrow your alakazam?"

Cyllene handed him the pokéball. Wasting no time, Laventon released it and used the creature's teleportation to catch up with the stantler just as it transformed into a buizel and scurried into a thick, wooded area. The woods were too dense for a riding Pokémon, so Laventon took chase on foot. He was hardly the fastest runner, but the weasel stayed within his sights, looking back at him periodically as though to mock him. Laventon fumbled for an ultra ball, took aim at the creature as it watched him from atop a log, and then promptly tripped over a tree root.

Laventon laid in the dirt, trying to catch his breath as Azelf scampered away and his companions caught up to him, none of them half as tired as he was. He really was terrible at this, wasn't he?

G i v e u p. Y o u r s t r u g g l e i s i n v a i n. R u n f r o m t h e g r o u p y o u a r e o n l y a b u r d e n t o s o t h a t a n o t h e r m a y s u c c e e d i n y o u r p l a c e.

If it was the only way for them to pass the trial and save Hisui then perhaps that was for the best...

Cyllene offered Laventon a hand up. He took it.

"You know, individual strengths are often less important than the ability to use the strengths of others," Cyllene said. "Kamado has issued commands while injured that led the Galaxy Team to success. You are a field researcher. How have you caught slippery Pokémon in other regions?"

Laventon thought on that. "Well, there have been other species that I've had to flush out of their hidey-holes, and this isn't a big bush," Laventon mused. "If the five of you surround it with your Pokémon and move inwards, we can force Azelf out no matter what form it takes. I'll stand outside the bush, you get it to come towards me. Does that sound like a plan?"

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Cyllene said.

Laventon stood at the edge of the bush and waited as the other five and their Pokémon marched inwards. Bugs, birds, bats, rodents, and the occasional stantler were flushed out, and Laventon watched for any that showed signs of being Azelf, ultra ball at the ready. Azelf wanted to test him on willpower- on not giving up- so surely this was the correct course of action. Yes, he was sure of it.

Finally, a shiny buizel emerged from the bush, grinning at Laventon with pleased determination. Laventon hucked a ball at it. It bounced out of the way. He hucked another. It wasn't even close. Then, a number of other buizel emerged from the woods, scampering about as though Azelf had ordered them to make this trial even harder. Laventon trained his eyes on the white collar of the shiny and kept throwing.

Ten balls later, one hit. The ball shook once and then sparked.

Laventon let out a sigh of relief. Blood was coursing through him, and he felt more alive and keyed up than he could ever remember being.

The buizels dispersed, leaving behind only one- a second shiny. To Laventon's horror, the creature turned into Azelf. But then it picked up Laventon's ultra ball and handed it to him, along with a small horn.

T a k e t h i s p i e c e o f t h e s p i r i t a n d b i n d t h e s k y o n c e m o r e, said the spirit before it vanished.

"That was some leadership, professor!" Rei explained.

Laventon was stunned silent. "I caught a swift and slippery little buizel all by myself," he mused. "A shiny one! My God, that was... I don't even know what that was!"

"It was a fine performance," Cyllene said.

Before long, the group was on the move again, and not long after that, they were on the island of Verity Cavern. Before heading in, the group took a moment to heal their Pokémon.

"So, if Uxie's trial was showing knowledge, and Azelf's trial was showing willpower, Mesprit's will be showing emotion? That sounds like a really lame trial," Adaman stated.

"Maybe it'll go to someone who struggles to control their emotions, and they'll have to do something frustrating," Irida suggested.

"In that case, it's definitely your trial."

"Oh, please. You're the drama queen. And anyhow, I fought overqwil, so I had my turn."

"Ursaluna isn't your Pokémon, and you didn't give it orders," Adaman countered.

"Hmph! well-"

"Now is not the time," Cyllene said, leading the group in.

Within the cave was an alpha goodra. Rei took out his decidueye, but Cyllene stepped in front of him. "Allow me," she said, taking out her staraptor. "Close-combat."

The bird struck at the armoured dragon, denting its shell, but the goodra struck back, hitting Cyllene's staraptor with its massive tail and knocking it into a nearby wall.

Cyllene gave her bird a stiff nod to let it know to continue, and took out her samourott. "Ice beam," she commanded.

Between the two attackers, the Goodra was giving out far less damage than it was receiving, but Laventon found Cyllene's choice to step in baffling nonetheless. With the amount of office work they had to do while the other members were in the fields, he and Cyllene were among the weakest of the Survey Corps when it came to their Pokémon's levels, and Rei had long surpassed them. It wasn't like Cyllene to fail to delegate when it was for the better.

Is she trying to make sure she won't have to face the trial? Laventon wondered as the Goodra finally hit the ground and Cyllene's Pokémon returned to her for healing.

Just as had happened in the previous two caves, Mesprit appeared to the six in a flash of light.

C y l l e n e, Mesprit said telepathically. M y t r i a l i s y o u r s.

#thank you to standardizedbogey for teaching me how to use HTML for the dialog of the lake guardians! It was a life saver!#pokemon #professor laventon #rei #captain cyllene #volo #clan leader irida #clan leader adaman #uxie #azelf #my fanfiction

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galaxycunt · 8 months ago

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Next year I’ve decided I’m gonna do the timberline trail and just go for it bc it’s like 40 miles and it’s a loop around mount hood and I was too scared to join strangers online who wanted to do it in September bc I’m like wait what if I can’t do it so I’m gonna do a few days of backpacking this summer a few times to try it out on less intense terms

I’m gonna be annoying hiker trash this summer sorry y’all

#forever grateful for the free pack I got #bc I can then bring more things that are luxury items lmao

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dontjudgemeimawriter · 1 year ago

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Ten Random Lines Tag

Tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer ty!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics/writing projects, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag people (ten if you want to follow the theme).

Tagging: @theramwrites @puzzleddragon02 @saltysupercomputer @aether-wasteland-s @lexiklecksi and anyone else who wants to!

Okay I really only have 2 main WIPs but sure we can see snippets of some tiny things......

Second Chance I don’t even have to explain to Hayln why I am actually still alive, because it’s a null day (that really is a good name for it. On the Base we call it pre-day and post-day, in reference to when the reversal occurs). Except here’s the funny thing: Turns out, since I didn’t exist, the most natural thing to occur is for me to simply not exist for about 16 hours. When I explain to the Spirit that No, I am NOT okay with that, it says that if I really want to, we can resist that natural couse of events.

Syndicate He flashed a smile. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said and came over, picking up mugs from the desk that I hadn’t noticed and bringing them over. He handed me one. “Got you coffee.” A string and tag on the side of his mug showed he was having tea.

Drake Knight I look to the sky, pausing three-quarters down the alley to catch a breath and attempt to wipe some of the coffee off the front of my shirt. It’s empty for a bit, just a gray sky, but then a shadow passes over us and I see it clearly for the first time. Nothing special, the dark gray scales indicate it’s probably from the mountains. But it’s smaller than I expected. Most dragons you fight are adults, but this one isn’t much larger than an elephant. I think it is anyway, hard to tell from the flyby.

Angie & Eddie So Angie stood up and made her way to Target. Passed the cart return, the shampoo bottles, the spa day bins with images of thin women relaxing. She went down the band-aid aisle, the cold medicine aisle, the muscle relaxants. She paused, facing a wall full of pads. She’d been in a slight daze, half convincing herself this wasn’t real, but not she had to focus because where the fuck were they? God, she wasn’t going to have to ask someone, was she?

Creative Nonfiction Portfolio In my dorm, the top left dryer doesn’t work. I’ve put wet laundry inside and returned to find wet laundry. After that, I avoided that dryer for weeks, until it was the only one available so I let it run through, figuring if it didn’t work there would be an open dryer by then. Lo and behold, my laundry remained wet. Have I reported it to the conveniently posted number hanging on the laundry room wall? Nope. Everyone seems aware it’s broken, someone must’ve reported it. And ultimately, we’ll live. But, that’s just a dryer. No one’s in any danger.

Immortal Souls The rain picked up. Back home, inside, I loved rain, but now I hated it. I pulled my hood up to cover my head and swung my backpack over my shoulder, moving off the bench and under an awning of a corner store. It was the kind of building that looked like it had been passed down between different owners, none of which bothered to change the old sign. An ancient hand-painted sign that said “Collier’s” was faded and mounted above a newer, stenciled sign that said “Watkin’s Market.” A glance around told me that Watkin’s was the name of the street, so, definitely not the most creative. It was advertising cheap cell phones and beer, so not much of a market either.

The Snow Queen Retelling "What’you suppose they are, demons or something? Goblins? Nothing like the ones at the church. That one looks like he can fly.” He stared at it, getting lost in the red of the glass, a color that stood out in the colorless castle. He hadn’t noticed it before. Or, he remembered, he’d thought it was stupid, that the colors gave him a headache. He’d never stopped to take them in, to look at how pretty the colors were when light shone through them.

Faye & Myra-- Summer Hangout I felt like crying, but that would be way worse right now and I couldn’t face it. I took a deep breath and pushed it away. I grabbed the few tintypes I’d taken out of the box, brought the box back, and purchased them. I went over to Olivia.

Layla In an instant, the numb feeling of being disconnected vanished, and panic rushed through me. Twitches underneath my eyes warned me that tears were coming, and then they did, filling my eyes and blurring the message. My mouth quivered, my breathing was speeding up. What was he doing? Couldn’t this be over? Hadn’t he gotten what he wanted?

Lialyn Lialyn was a kingdom of Mages. Every part of their lives had been shaped around the fact that everyone, from the rich to poor, learned magic. As the prince, he and his sister were expected to master as soon as possible. They were supposed to be superior in magic the way other countries had their royalty superior in swordfighting. Which meant that Sam had failed his family from the start.

#10 random lines tag #tag game catch up

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howyoutalktostrangers · 2 years ago

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Celista and the Snow Fairy of Mount Prevost

by Will Johnson, December 2022

Snowflakes danced on Celista’s eyelashes as she trekked up the slope of Mount Prevost, melting into her eyes and drooling down her face like cold tears. Her fur-lined hood kept her ears cocooned from the frigid wind, but the rest of her face was moist and pink in the brisk mountain air. She could feel wetness soaking slowly into the shins of her snowpants, right where they tucked into her pink-hearted boots, and a few times she was tripped up by tree roots and hidden rocks. She stumbled on to her hands and knees, elbow-deep in the snow, while her breath transformed into swirling apparitions that ascended into the baby blue sky far above. The sun was shy today, barely peeking from behind the clouds, but it illuminated all the glittering diamonds that surrounded her in the snowbanks.

Celista was a fast little girl. There was no way her family could keep up—especially not Mom, who was hefting a giant hiking backpack that carried her baby brother Kristopher. The snow was hip-deep and powdery, and it sprayed out around her like angel wings as she jogged through the wintry forest. It was only Dad that could keep her within view, shouting every few moments for her to slow down, but this was their first Christmas trip to meet the snow fairies and she didn’t want to miss a single moment. Already the landscape was alive with glittering magic, with transcendent trees adorned with glistening icicles like upside down unicorn horns. She felt like she was navigating through a dream, like any moment the scene before her would evaporate and she’d find herself asleep at home in front of a raging fire place. But she’d recently turned four years old, and she was coming to understand the difference between reality and pretty fantasies.

“Celista, don’t go too far, baby!” bellowed her Dad, from within the thick of trees at the bottom of the slope behind her. “We can’t keep up.”

“I’ll meet you at the top,” she shouted back. “Hurry up, Daddy!”

Celista was typically a dutiful, obedient child, but she was too excited to wait. She broke excitedly into a clearing just shy of the summit, and startled a small family of deer that bounded frantically off into the forest. The buck hesitated at the tree line, showing off his majestic antlers before plodding off. Once they were gone, she approached where they’d been congregating by a small frozen waterfall and studied their tracks in the snow, the deep furrows left by their bellies and the geometric stamps left by their hooves. She was tracing one of the prints with the finger of her glove when she felt a warm shiver on the back of her neck, like someone had brushed her hair to one side and cupped it with a fire-warmed palm. She jolted upright, swinging her face in all directions until she lost her balance and sat heavily in the snow with a crackling crunch. It was then, as she sat bewildered and confused, that she heard a soft tinkling laughter on the wind. It was a woman’s voice, soft and full of affection, and she recognized it.

This was somebody she’d met before, maybe long ago — but who?

As she stood to her feet, brushing off the clinging snow, Celista realized that everything had gone eerily still around her. The tree branches were no longer bouncing with the breeze, the wind had disappeared, and droplets from the melting icicles were suspended in midair. She waited for a moment, expecting to hear her father’s continued shouting, but the only sound she could hear was her blood thrumming relentlessly in her ears. She’d never experienced a silence so complete, so overwhelming that it was itself a sort of sound, and for a moment she was afraid. She looked up at the summit of Mount Prevost, maybe a ten minute walk further, then down the slope to where her family was lost behind her. She was deliciously alone, solitary in a way that she never experienced at home, except for late at night in her bed. That’s when her magical dreams came to life, though she could never remember what happened in the morning. She would wake with a feeling that she’d been on some delightful adventure and was returning home triumphant, that there was some secret part of her mind that was hoarding these beautiful memories for future use. This was why she was so excited about this particular trip — she had an unspoken sense that her nocturnal visions had been leading her here, though she couldn’t explain why.

“The last time I saw you was Christmas Day, and you were only nine months old,” a voice said, cutting through her silent reverie. “Just a little baby girl.”

For a moment Celista thought she had imagined the voice, and she stood carefully still. Then she heard another noise, an impatient snort that didn’t sound like anything human. She tried to breathe slow as she turned to face whatever had snuck up behind her, and nearly collided with a long furry snout with two flaring nostrils. Startled, she took a big step back to behold a giant shaggy moose the colour of dark chocolate. It reared, feeling her fear, and turned slightly to reveal a slender woman sitting on its back. The woman’s shimmering ice-blue dress flowed out on either side of her steed, and disappeared into a matching fur-lined coat with voluminous sleeves flecked with gold and held in place by a dark blue dolphin broach at the base of her neck. Her blond hair was shoulder-length and delicate, framing her otherworldly face. Instead of pink, this woman’s skin was the colour of running river water. But the strangest thing about her was the pair of translucent blue wings that fluttered from her shoulder blades.

“You don’t need to be afraid, little one. I’ve seen your whole life, from birth to death, and there’s nothing that’s going to happen to you that I don’t know about,” the woman said. “And Percival here might seem a little scary, but he’s actually a quite gentle spirit.”

Celista narrowed her eyes. “You look like my Dad.”

The woman giggled, delighted, and dropped down to the ground to approach her. “I wondered if you would recognize me. I used to sing you to sleep.”

“What’s your name?”

She smiled sadly, her eyes crinkling. “I used to have a name, but now I’m simply known as the Snow Fairy of Mount Prevost.”

“You’re a real fairy?”

“I’m as real as a fairy can be, little Celista. Don’t I seem real to you?”

Celista considered this. “Can I touch you?”

The snow fairy lifted up her arm, and began to pull off a long velvet glove patterned with ocean waves. The hand that emerged was tiny and delicate, with fingernails that glittered white. She held it out to Celista, who bravely took a hold of it. The moment their skin connected, an electric surge of energy rocketed up her arm like she’d stuck her finger in the light socket. She gave a joyful shudder as the warmth reached her heart, then let go again.

“I think you’re magic,” she said.

The snow fairy gazed at her, her eyes alight with pleasure. “Well that’s why I needed to see you now. Because pretty soon you’re going to grow up, and you won’t believe in magic anymore. And where would that leave me?”

“How come everything is frozen? Nothing’s moving.”“That’s because I’ve stopped time for you, my dear. Your family will be looking for you, and I don’t want them thinking I’ve kidnapped you. This is something us snow fairies can do, but we can’t do it forever. So with your permission, I’d like to take you on a little ride with Percival. I promise to have you back in time for your Dad to find you.”

Celista couldn’t believe her luck — her brother Kristopher was missing out! She knew he would love to ride a magic moose, and for a moment she felt guilty for leaving him behind. But the snow fairy had chosen her for a reason, and she was determined to find out what it was. She nodded excitedly, and felt herself whisked up high on to Percival’s back. From where she sat, warm in the lap of her new fairy friend, she could see the landscape stretching away from her in all directions. There were countless snow-blanketed trees, misty crags of proud stone, and a glassy lake that remained stubbornly unfrozen. Nestled somewhere on the opposite bank, halfway up Mount Tzhouhalem, was the home she shared with her parents. She took a deep gulp of winter air, and then Percival was careening up the slope towards the summit.

“What do snow fairies do?” Celista asked, firmly grasping tufts of Percival’s hair.

“Can you fly? Can you do miracles like Jesus?”The snow queen laughed, her wings flapping playfully behind her. “I don’t know if I would call them miracles, but we do help people. Especially at Christmas.”

“Why at Christmas?”

“Because that’s when we were born. A snow fairy is created every time somebody cries into the winter snow at Christmas time, when those tears turns to ice and transforms into magic. Those droplets of pure sadness, of grief, they’re the ingredient that conjures us from nothing. And they’re the reason we serve you humans.”

“Serve us?”

“It’s probably easier if I show you.”

They had nearly reached the summit by this point, and Percival paused to overlook a small pond that had been hidden from view until now. Celista leaned forward and squinted her eyes, making out a small group of hockey players zipping back and forth across the surface. They all wore red jerseys and black helmets, and a coach was shouting directions at them from the sidelines. These kids were older than her, maybe in their early teens, and one in particular drew her attention. Something about the way he moved seemed familiar. Then he whipped off his helmet to reveal sweaty blond curls, and she realized it was her brother.

“That’s Kristopher,” she said.

“Yes, that’s your little brother. But he isn’t so little now, is he?”

“Are we in the future?”

“The thing to remember about snow fairies is that we’re not trapped by time the way you humans are. We can dance back and forth however we like. We can see your whole life from start to finish, and we know exactly when you need us. It might only be once in your whole lifetime, but sometimes it’s the difference between life and death.”

“Why are you showing me Kristopher’s future?”

“Because I want you to understand, Celista, the mission I have for you. Keep watching.”

Celista turned back to the makeshift rink to see Kristopher flying across the ice, pumping his legs frantically as he stick-handled the puck. He weaved through his opponents, at one point leaping into the air to avoid an outstretched stick, then twirled towards the goal. He was about to take his shot when one of the opposing players struck him face-on, crashing against his chest and sending him tumbling to the ground as his helmet flipped off. It was then that the snow fairy appeared, lightning-quick and nearly invisible, tossing her own translucent body beneath his. With both hands she cupped Kristopher’s skull and cushioned his fall, evaporating only a moment later.

“You saved him.”

The snow fairy nodded. “Your brother’s concussion in that moment would’ve marked the rest of his life, would’ve ruined his entire athletic career and sent him on a dark trajectory. He would have spent the rest of his time on earth tormented by migraines and nightmares, his mind a torment that he could never escape. In that one moment, I altered the course of your brother’s entire life.”

“But why? Why are you doing it? Why our family?”

The snow fairy sighed, and let her gaze lift to the sky. “Well darling, I guess that part is pretty simple. I do it because you are my family.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean your Dad is my brother, and it was his tears that brought me to life,” she said. “I’m your Auntie Kathryn, and I’ve been waiting a long time to have this conversation with you.”

Celista couldn’t believe it. She shifted her weight and looked up into the snow fairy’s face, and the sight suddenly dredged up half-formed memories from when she was a baby. No wonder she’d recognized her voice. Kathryn had carried her nuzzled against her chest on long hikes with Mom, had spoon-fed her while she sat in her high chair, had delicately scratched her back and sung soft lullabies while she drifted off to sleep. How had she forgotten?

Before she could say anything, Percival leaped into action and led them bouncing down the hill. Celista gasped as he broke into a gallop, his arching antlers surging up and down in front of her. Pretty soon the trees had closed up overhead, immersing them in an evening gloom. Eventually they slowed, Percival’s hooves rhythmically thumping underneath them as he wheezed. Twinkling lights appeared in the distance, blocked momentarily by the passing tree trunks. The sky was black now, the stars winking benevolently from their perch in the heavens. The snow fairy patted her moose gently on the neck, and he abruptly turned to the right and crossed over into someone’s backyard. The house before them was awash with activity, and she could see silhouettes of people through the steamed up windows. There was an ethereal Christmas tree glowing in the living room window.

“Do you recognize this place?” Auntie Kathryn asked.

Celista shook her head no.

“This is your grandparents’ old house on Christmas Eve, three years ago. This was the last time I saw you, my dear.”

From the shadows, the snow fairy cuddled her close while they watched the family inside sit down to a turkey dinner. Christmas music wafted through the open kitchen window, which billowed with steam. They heard laughter, and overlapping voices competing for yuletide dominance, and then eventually they heard the crash and tinkle of dishes. Celista spotted her grandmother, standing at the sink with bubbles clinging to her forearms. She looked different, younger, and though she was smiling there was a darkness in her expression. She scoured the pots and pans like she was trying to punish them. She had the same curly blond hair as Kristopher, and it hadn’t yet started to go grey.

Then, up on the back deck, a sliding glass door swished open and two figures emerged. One was unmistakably Auntie Kathryn, and the other was her Dad. They were cradling cups of hot chocolate and blowing on them, standing together in the holy darkness, nearly shoulder to shoulder. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their conversation seemed gloomy.

“What you need to understand, my dear, is sometimes there are multiple versions of the same event. What you’re seeing now is the Christmas that I became a snow fairy, but it’s a different one than you remember — mostly because you weren’t there.”

“I wasn’t?”

“No, in this version of events your Dad hadn’t even met your mother. He was lonely and single, wishing he could have his own family. That’s what he prayed for more than anything else.”

“Dad doesn’t pray.”

Auntie Kathryn laughed. “Your Dad prays, when it matters. And the night that I passed away, he prayed in a way he never had before.”

She snapped her fingers, and the scene before them transformed. Suddenly it was morning, and Celista watched as her other aunts played with a small puppy in the snow. She could see her grandfather in his recliner, reading a book. The Christmas music was still playing, but fainter now, and her attention was slowly drawn to a basement window glowing with blue light. Percival crunched his way across the yard, unnoticed by her family members, until his snorting breath steamed up the glass. And there before them, laying facedown and diagonal on the bed, was the human version of the snow fairy. Auntie Kathryn. Her white-blond hair was blocking her face, and her arm dangled limp from the bed.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No dear, I’m not. This is the day that I passed away.”

“But I don’t want you to die.”“That’s a nice thing to say, little one. But I was very sick, and it was my time.”

“Who says?”

Before the snow fairy could answer, a door banged open underneath the deck. Celista seized up, startled, until she recognized her Dad. He was gritting his teeth with his eyes clenched shut, letting out deep sorrowful sobs. The moans that he was making grew in volume until he was ululating with grief, crouched to the ground and shaking his head rhythmically back and forth. Tears began to stream down his cheeks, sliming through his thick beard to land soundlessly in the snow. He didn’t seem to notice that each droplet began to glow the moment it touched down, like scattered jelly beans alive with electricity. He was muttering a prayer under his breath, and she couldn’t make out the words. Celista had never seen her Dad cry before, or pray. Then there was a violent hiss, like wind from heaven, as a blue tube of pure energy poured from the bedroom window and towards the glowing tears. Her Dad couldn’t see it apparently, but as he prayed a towering figure began to coalesce before him thirty feet tall. It was the snow fairy, her eyes closed and fingers outstretched, with wings that seemed to block the entire sky. All around her was a halo of yellow light.

Auntie Kathryn touched her cheek to Celista’s. “Christmas froze your Dad’s heart that day, and it was my job to melt it again. Does that make sense to you?”

“So what did you do?”

She smiled. “That’s when I went searching for you.”

The snow fairy explained that she watched the rest of her brother’s life unfold, year after year, until he was a sour old bachelor with a white beard. He never married, never had kids, and spent the remainder of his years angry with the universe. His dream of having a family now felt like a cruel joke, like dangling a carrot in front a reindeer who would never quite reach it. Celista’s Dad forgot how to love, how to hope, and how to pray. That morning was the last time he reached out to God, and the last time he dared hope for a beautiful future. He was deeply, permanently broken.

Celista began to cry. “But what about us?”

“Well, that’s the thing. You know how I said there are multiple versions of each person’s life? How snow fairies can change things for the better, can help people? Save them?”

“You helped my Dad? How?”

Auntie Kathryn took a deep breath. “Percival, why don’t we show her?”

Celista hadn’t realized that the gargantuan moose she was sitting on had a pair of thick feathery wings like a cherub. She gasped as they unfurled, giving a few exploratory pumps before launching them into the sky. Within a few seconds her grandparent’s house was disappearing beneath them, growing smaller and smaller until countless criss-crossing roads sparkled far beneath their feet, creating a shimmering grid against the black ground. Icy wind swept up to ruffle her hair as the flying moose maneuvered directly towards the moon. Her eyes widened in astonished rapture as a female face emerged from the craggy white surface, with thick black hair swept in heaps and two distinct beauty dots under her left eye. It was her Mom.

“My Mom!” Celista shouted, pointing. “My Mom is in the moon!”

“That’s her.”

“She looks so young.”

“That’s what your Mom looked like, back when she was in university in Ontario. I searched all over the country for the perfect woman, for someone who your Dad would fall in love with. And then it was my job to lure her out to the coast, whispering to her on the breeze and flowing around her like a current. I was with her every day. While her plane soared through the sky, it was me guiding it through the clouds. When they walked along the beach, it was me splashing against the shore with the waves. And the first day they kissed, I was watching from far overhead. When I cried they were hit with sheet after sheet of wafting rain.”

Percival leaned softly to one side, and the sky flickered with scenes of her parents. They were dancing, they were walking hand-in-hand, they were cuddling in front of the TV. All around her, illuminated against the dark clouds of the night sky, her parents’ love story played out like they were in a giant movie theatre. And then finally one scene came to dominate all the others, as his parents walked through a field of daffodils with the ocean crashing behind them. She recognized it from the pictures: this was her parent’s wedding day in Beacon Hill Park. Her mother was plump with pregnancy, holding one hand to her tummy.

“You already know this story, don’t you?” said Auntie Kathryn.

“How your parents were married the day before you were born?”“My Mom told me.”

“Of course she did. But what she probably didn’t mention is that day, on the beach where your parents were married, that was my birthday. I couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t reach him, but I wanted your Dad to know that it was me, that I was the one who gave him this miracle — and the miracle was your perfect little family. He had always dreamed about having children, and I gave him you. And your brother.”

Celista felt tears in her eyes as the scene before her transformed. The snow fairy floated high above her parents’ wedding with deep blue tears of joy streaming down her face. She looked up at Auntie Kathryn and saw she was crying now too. Her aunt held her tighter in her lap as Percival touched down on an undulating cloud. Together they clambered down, their feet disappearing into the mist. Around them the sky was dark again, and a soft rain trickled down in a mist. Celista gazed down at the quiet earth beneath them. Part of her never wanted to come down again.

“The sad thing about being a snow fairy is that most people have no idea what we do. They don’t even know we exist, that we’re there all through our loved ones’ lifetimes. Grown-ups don’t believe in magic, and they don’t realize there’s spirits around them at all times.”

“But I know about you.”

“Yes, and that makes you extra special. I couldn’t ask for a better niece, Celista.”

“I wish I could meet you in real life.”

Her eyes crinkled, sad but happy at the same time. “I wish that too, baby. I wish that more than you can ever know.”

A final scene appeared before them, as lightning streaked across their sightline. Again she saw her grandparents’ house, saw her aunt laying facedown in bed. She saw her grandmother screaming out in grief, saw the flurry of activity as different people surged into the room to see what was wrong. And then her father appeared, but this time he wasn’t alone. Perched on his hip was baby Celista, holding a fistful of his shirt as he leaned down and kissed his sister goodbye. He held his hand to her face, his eyes pink, and muttered something she couldn’t hear. It was strange to see herself as an infant, to watch a scene that she couldn’t remember. Dad had never told her before that she had been there that day, that she had seen her aunt’s final moments on earth. As they retreated sobbing from the room again, the vision evaporated.

“This is a sad story,” Celista said.

“The best stories have some sadness, my girl. But they also have hope.”

“Hope?”

“That’s what you are, Celista. You’re the reason your Dad has hope. You were the one that made him believe in the future again, just like I planned.”

“But if you could change things, how come you didn’t change your own life? How come you couldn’t stop yourself from dying?”

She sighed mournfully. “That was my problem my whole life. I was always helping other people, and sometimes I forgot to help myself. Now that I’m a snow fairy, I can change things and help people, but the only person I’m not allowed to help is myself.”

“I think that’s a stupid rule.”

“Maybe, baby. But that’s the way things are.”

Together they walked back to where Percival was waiting, the cloud rolling underneath him like an ocean wave. She lifted Celista up on to his back, then retook her spot behind her. The great moose reared up on its back legs and launched into the mist.

“I’m afraid we’re running out of time, my girl. So I’m taking you back to Mount Prevost. But before we get there, I have a special job for you.”

“A job for me?”“Yes. Like I told you, I’ve seen your entire life from start to finish. I’ve watched your family grow and struggle and change. And I’ve done everything in my power to give you a beautiful life, a life filled with love. But now I have other people to help, other members of my family, other people I care about. A snow fairy’s work is never done.”

“So you’re leaving?”

“Oh no. I’ll never leave you, Celista. Every Christmas until you’re an old woman, I’ll be there. But there are things that you can do that I can’t, and I wanted to reach you before you were too grown-up to see me, to believe in the power of snow fairy magic. There’s a message I want you to carry with you, long after you’ve forgotten that I exist.”

“I’ll never forget about you!”

“You say that now, and I’m sure you believe it. But life is funny, young one. One day you’ll be a woman like your Mom and the magic of childhood will feel like a long-forgotten dream. When that happens, I don’t want you to let go of what I told you. I want you to keep it close inside your heart for as long as you live. Do you think you could do that?”

“I think so. I think I could do that.”

As they spoke, Mount Prevost thrust out of the horizon fog. The sky was beginning to lighten again as Percival soared, his feathers ruffling as they picked up speed. The trees began to grow, the roads lit up with frozen traffic, and as they approached the slope she’d been climbing earlier that morning she could make out the figures of her parents tromping through the forest. She could see Kristopher on her Mom’s back. She could see the zig-zagging line that she’d beaten into the snow as she sprinted ahead of her family, and the herd of deer that she’d scared off. Percival circled a few times, leaning into his descent, then came to a shuddering halt in the clearing where she’d first met them. Snow flurried around them.

“You’re a lucky little girl, Celista. You have a family that loves you. That’s worth more than all the money in the world. Your Dad was a great brother, but he’s an even better father. I hand-picked your mother, which means I hand-picked you and Kristopher too. Your family is my miracle, and they don’t even know it.”

Celista bit her lip, hard. “I don’t want you to go, Auntie Kathryn.”

“I’m not going anywhere, not really. Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not there. Does that make sense?”

Celista nodded.

“So that brings me to my final request. This is the Christmas present you can give me.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to promise me that you’ll never take your family for granted. Your Mom will frustrate you, sometimes your Dad might be mean. Kristopher is a silly little boy, and I know how annoying it can be to have a brother. But no matter what they do, I want you to promise me that you’ll never take them for granted. I want you to remember that your family is my gift to you, that I put my entire soul into breathing you into existence. Even when you feel like you don’t believe in magic anymore, I want you to remember that your family is a Christmas miracle — a Christmas gift from your Auntie Kathryn. Can you do that?”

Celista nodded bravely.

“Well, Percival. I think that’s it,” the snow fairy said, pulling her gloves tight. “I think it’s time to let this little girl get back to her family.”

“I love you, Auntie Kathryn.”

She grinned, climbing back on to her magic moose. “I love you too, sweetie.”

All around them, the forest hummed back to life. The droplets frozen in midair tumbled to the ground, the trees groaned, and the wind was full of whispers. Celista tried to keep up as Percival began to canter, then was lost in a whoosh of snow as he shot up towards the summit of Mount Prevost. There was a rumbling noise in the distance as rivulets of snow came crashing down from the peak, washing over trees and tumbling towards her. She barely had time to react before a wave swept her off her feet and buried her upside down, leaving nothing but her pink-hearted boots sticking out. She struggled, stuck, the cold seeping into her nostrils and forcing itself into her mouth.

“Celista! Celista!” a voice shouted. Her Dad sounded frantic. “Celista!”

She opened her eyes and tried to wriggle, but her body was hopelessly lodged in place. The only thing she could do was wag her boots — she couldn’t even yell. Pounding footsteps approached, then she felt firm hands grab ahold of her ankles. Her father hoisted her up, collapsing into the snow with her legs pinned against her chest. She giggled, sitting up, with cold water streaming down her face.

“Oh, Celista,” he said, relieved. “You scared me. I thought you were gone.”

She crawled on to her hands and knees, then stood up with a beaming smile. Her coat and snow pants were soaked, but she was too happy to care. She could see Mom climbing up the hill with Kristopher, alarmed by all the shouting. All around them was heartbreaking beauty.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” she said. “I’m right here.”

The Literary Goon

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oregonphotobus · 2 months ago

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Places to Do Wedding Photoshoots in Oregon

When it comes to choosing a location in Oregon for your engagement photos, the options are endless. From the rocky coast to the high desert, the mountains, or the city, there's something for everyone in the Pacific Northwest.

There are two main questions that you should ask yourself when you are unsure about a location:

1) Do you want to go somewhere familiar or meaningful to you and your relationship?

2) Do you want to explore somewhere new and epic together to mark this new chapter?

Once you've decided whether you want to go somewhere new or familiar, you'll start to narrow down your choices. Below, we have listed some of the most beautiful locations for Oregon engagement sessions—these are places that photographers frequently shoot for these events. It is always amazing to discover new locations in the PNW. Make sure to add to this list as we find more fantastic places to do photoshoots in Oregon!

My recommendations are divided below into the Oregon coast and Mount Hood.

The Oregon Coast

Cannon Beach +. Ecola State Park

The first time you see Haystack Rock off the coast of Cannon Beach is a memorable experience. It's an iconic spot on the Oregon Coast that is hard to forget. While it's a popular place for engagements and proposals, the beach is so large and the tide so vast that you can easily take photos without others in the background. As someone from the East Coast, known for its small, rocky beaches, I especially appreciate this. Not only can you capture amazing coastal engagement photos with Haystack Rock in the background, but you can also explore Ecola State Park and other small beaches and woods nearby.

Hug Point + Elk Flats Trail

If you’re looking for a spot on the Oregon coast with a little less traffic than Cannon Beach, we can’t recommend Hug Point enough. Just twenty minutes south of Cannon Beach, this was actually one of the most beautiful beaches in Oregon, so feel free to fall in love with the moody, jagged rocks off the coast and the cozy, warm caverns that dotted the other side of the beach. Another plus for this location is the woodsy goodness that lines the actual beach behind you, providing lots of variety for your coastal engagement session. A perfect place for a photo booth rental in Oregon Elk Flats is just a little south of Hug Point and is a perfect companion location. It’s got grassy hills and dramatic cliffs overlooking the ocean. We recommend going at sunrise for the softest light, but it’s beautiful any time! The trail to the cliff spot is short, about 10 minutes. It’s not a difficult trail, but it can get muddy if it’s been raining a lot.

Mount Hood

Old Salmon River Trail + Lolo Pass Road

The Salmon River Trail begins as the Old Salmon River Trail for a few miles before transforming into a longer backpacking trail. Both trailheads are couple’s favorite spots in the Mount Hood National Forest. The area resembles something out of a twilight movie, with moss-covered logs, ferns blanketing the forest floor, and small waterfalls along the river. This is a scientifically designated rainforest, so expect misty conditions and savor all that the forest has to offer. If you're seeking more expansive views, you can cross Highway 26 and drive down Lolo Pass road to enjoy views of the open valley and Mount Hood on a clear day.

Bald Mountain Via Top Spur Trail

Bald Mountain, which leads to McNeal Point, offers a beautiful trail on Mount Hood with an incredible payoff. For a relatively short hike, You’ll find yourself in one of the most amazing places to do photoshoots in Oregon. Starting at the Top Spur trailhead makes it a much shorter hike. The trail begins in the forest, and after a little less than a mile, you emerge to the viewpoint overlooking the valley with the mountain majestically in front of you. In the summer, this is an excellent spot for wildflowers. I recommend going at sunrise for the best light and fewer crowds.

Most Magical Places for Your Wedding

Oregon offers an abundance of stunning locations for your wedding photoshoots, each with its unique charm and breathtaking scenery. Whether you choose the iconic beaches of the Oregon Coast or the majestic landscapes around Mount Hood, you're sure to find the perfect backdrop for capturing your love story. Remember to consider what resonates with you and your partner, whether it's a familiar spot or a new adventure. With these beautiful locations in mind, you're well on your way to creating lasting memories that you'll cherish for years to come. Embrace the beauty of the Pacific Northwest, and let your engagement photos reflect the magic of this exciting new chapter in your lives!

#places to do photoshoots in Oregon #photo booth rental in Oregon

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pcttrailsidereader · 3 months ago

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Forget the Yacht. The Best Travel is on Foot, Through Wilderness

Nick Kristof is a columnist for the NY Times. He has also hiked the PCT. We included a wonderful story in Crossing Paths: A Pacific Crest Trailside Reader that Kristof wrote about hiking with his teenaged daughter, his general companion on the PCT (which he references in this column). He has and continues to be a high-profile advocate for walking. Here's his most recent column.

By Nicholas Kristof

Some folks think the best way to travel is by private jet. Or yacht. My choice: by foot.

Some think that the best thing about America is its wealth, technology and modernity. Others point to its Democratic institutions. But I’m with the writer Wallace Stegner that America’s “best idea” is our spectacular inheritance of public lands — purple mountain majesties — amounting to about 40 percent of our nation. As Stegner said of our national parks: “Absolutely democratic, they reflect us at our best.”

Some people worship in a church, others in a temple or mosque. I attend the cathedral of the wilderness, for among wildflowers in an alpine meadow we can all connect to something grander than ourselves.

I don’t want to overromanticize the wild; my cathedral has no thermostat, so it’s always too cold or too hot, and it can be filled with mosquitoes. But wilderness still fills me with semireligious awe.

The 17th-century philosopher Baruch Spinoza argued that God and nature were the same, and perhaps in an age of declining religious practice some can find in nature another kind of higher power to be inspired by. Like religion, wild spaces teach us humility and patience (certainly mosquitoes do). Wilderness puts us in our place, calms us, soothes our souls. Like prayer or meditation, walking through the wild gives us an opportunity to detach, to reflect, to self-correct.

So here I am in my alpine cathedral on the slopes of Mount Hood in Oregon, marking the end of summer with my wife, Sheryl WuDunn, as we backpack on the Timberline Trail. My family hikes this loop around the mountain almost every year.

We cowboy camp, without a tent — if rain seems likely we set up a small tarp — and fall asleep watching shooting stars. Then we rise with the first orange rays of the sun: A sunrise serves as caffeine. We stow our sleeping bags and hike, with no schedule or plan. When we’re tired, we rest and eat. When we’re thirsty, we stop at a rushing creek and fill a water bottle with snowmelt. When dusk approaches, we find a flat patch of ground and lay out our sleeping bags.

As we walk, we ponder. What I’m pondering is how lucky we are that our forebears more than a century ago — prophetic leaders like Theodore Roosevelt and Gifford Pinchot — fought industrial interests and succeeded in preserving wild spaces for our public use in 2024, and our great-great-grandchildren’s use in 2124.

The original model for America was to privatize nearly all land, so by one analysis only about 15 percent of New York State is now publicly owned. But over time in newer states, with champions like Roosevelt, national parks and forests were created and more state and city lands set aside as well.

Today a majority of the land in states like Oregon, California, Idaho and Nevada is held by the public. Alaska is an extreme example: About 85 percent of Alaska is set aside for the common good.

I can’t help thinking that if we were to allocate land in today’s more calculating age, America might make a different choice and sell pristine spaces to the highest bidder, perhaps with naming rights to mountains and rivers. This might be Mount Musk, and we’d be outside the fence wistfully exchanging stories of the glaciers on a billionaire’s playground.

Perhaps that would be more efficient. Private landowners might do a better job controlling forest fires than the government. But what a loss for the nation.

On our first night out on this trip, Sheryl and I found a spot under soaring fir trees beside a babbling brook, as the mountain and its glaciers loomed over us. During the night, some large animal, perhaps Bigfoot, woke us by crashing through the brush, adding priceless atmospherics.

This was a spot that no billionaire could buy. It was ours that night, perhaps some other hiker’s the next night, and maybe on the third night Bigfoot had it all to himself. In our shared wilderness, there are no tiers of pricing as at Disneyland; we are all equal before the majesty of nature.

In some parts of America, private beaches are the playgrounds of the affluent. But Oregon beaches are all public, so earlier in the summer my family backpacked on the Oregon Coast Trail, which meanders from Washington to California along deserted beaches (and forced us once, when we miscalculated the tides, to make a run for it around a small cape to avoid the waves). Those glorious beaches are mine, are yours, are ours.

In many ways, America is a class society. Rich and poor live in different neighborhoods, shop at different stores, send kids to different schools and inhabit different worlds. But one place of true democracy is on our public lands.

My daughter and I hiked the 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada over six years (best parenting I ever did), and the trail was the most egalitarian space I’ve seen. We met C.E.O.s, nurses, construction laborers and students, with none of the usual cues to judge status. We all stank.

In the course of writing a recent memoir, I came to realize that I probably had suffered a mild case of PTSD from covering too many wars and massacres. It was in this same period that I developed a passion for backpacking, and I suspect that I unconsciously prescribed myself wilderness therapy to heal.

It works. I see wild spaces as a place to think, to escape cellphones and editors (sorry, boss!), to connect with loved ones, to be dazzled and humbled by the vastness of space and the slowness of geologic time, to escape class divides, to purge ourselves of frustrations and political toxicity, to bare our souls, to be recharged.

Thank God for America’s best idea.

#Walking #wilderness #philosophy #hiking with kids

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scottdavenportphoto · 5 months ago

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Mirrorless Mover Camera Backpack by ThinkTank

If you are thinking of adding the Mirrorless Mover Backpack to your kit or other ThinkTank or MindShift products, please consider using my affiliate links. Referral purchases help support independent photography gear reviews like this.

I have been working with a ThinkTank Mirrorless Mover backpack for the past couple of months. This versatile camera backpack definitely has a space in my camera bag lineup… and they are finally shipping! In this article, let’s take a deeper look at this backpack.

Why Use The ThinkTank Mirrorless Mover Backpack

Photographers have several camera bags because each one serves a particular purpose. I’ve been using the Mirrorless Mover Backpack for a couple of months and it’s certainly got a space in my photo bag lineup. The Mirrorless Mover Backpack is lightweight, comfortable, and secure making it a great choice for serious photo activities where you need several lenses with you. I’ve been reaching for this backpack when I am in an urban environment or embarking on a lighter outdoor activity. I need a few lenses and a couple of bodies to capture the images I need… but my larger packs are simply overkill or don’t suit the environment I’m in.

The ThinkTank Mirrorless Mover Backpack is also a great travel companion. You can pack a healthy amount of your photo gear plus a laptop or tablet and the pack fits comfortably under an airplane seat and easily in an overhead bin. I used the backpack on a cross-country flight and it was a perfect balance between having the gear I needed and being economical with space and stowage.

Overall Thoughts

I found the ThinkTank Mirrorless Mover Backpack comfortable to wear. It has a well-padded anatomical back panel and padded shoulder straps, which offer plenty of adjustability to suit how you like to have a pack drape on your shoulders. The backpack travels extremely well. It easily fits under the seat on airplanes.

I also found working with the bag easy. The inner chamber has a lot of configurability. I’ve used this backpack on several different outings and changed up the compartments to suit the gear I needed to take. The lighter gray interior also makes it easy to find items, as most camera and photography equipment is black. Accessing the outer pocket for a laptop or tablet is fluid as well. I like that the pocket zippers only go down partially, so there is no risk of items spilling out.

The build quality and construction of the Mirrorless Mover Backpack is top notch. That’s no surprise to me. I expect that from ThinkTank and MindShift products and this backpack met my expectations. The included rain cover is a very nice touch. The backpack is made with weather resistant material, yet having another layer of protection at-the-ready if the weather turns is always appreciated.

Ample Storage And Organization

The Mirrorless Mover Backpack has two stowage areas, the main compartment and the front pocket. The key specifications are:

Exterior Dimensions: 11” W x 16.5” H x 9” D (28 x 42 x 23 cm)

Internal Dimensions: 10” W x 15.5” H x 4.75” D (25 x 39 x 12 cm)

Total Volume: 18 Liters

Front Pocket Volume: 5 Liters

Weight: 2 lbs. 13 oz (1.3 kg) including all dividers and rain cover

Check ThinkTank’s website for the detailed specs.

The main compartment is extremely configurable. I’ve used this pack on several different outings, from short city walks to light outdoor activities to cross-country trips. The main compartment is easily reconfigurable to carry the gear I needed for each trip… and I usually had room leftover. In the photo here, I have:

1 full-frame body w/ 24-70mm + hood attached

1 crop-sensor body (no lens mounted)

1 16-35mm lens

1 20mm lens

DJI Pocket Osmo, Rode mics, spare batteries, battery chargers, cables, and power adapters

A few examples of what fits in the main compartment from the ThinkTank website:

1 Standard Mirrorless Body, 4 to 6 lenses, small accessory bags

1 Standard Mirrorless Body and zoom trifecta with 70-200mm f/2.8 attached with hood extended

1 Standard Mirrorless Body, 2 lenses; flash, light jacket

The front pocket is more than just a front pocket. The 5 liter pocket can hold a light jacket or other personal items. It also has a dedicated padded laptop/tablet sleeve that accommodates most 14” devices. The pocket also has a small zipper pouch for items like batteries and memory cards. The mesh cover makes it easy to see what’s in the zipper pouch.

The backpack also has two expandable side for items like water bottles or a tripod. The backpack does not have straps or a tripod foot “flap” to center-lash a tripod to the back of the bag. Your tripod will be side-mounted.

Build Quality, Comfort and Ergonomics

As with all gear from ThinkTank, the Mirrorless Mover Backpack has solid construction. The backpack has a durable water-repellant coating, 3-ply bonded nylon stitching, and sturdy YKK RC zippers. The interior dividers strike the right balance, being sturdy yet flexible, and soft so they don’t scratch your gear.

The shoulder straps are well-padded and have an adjustable sternum strap. The anatomically designed back panel sits well on your back, has a waist stabilizer strap, and a lumbar pass-through for the ThinkTank Pro Speed Belt (not included with the backpack). The weight-centered top handle is strong and well padded for comfort. The chest and waist straps distribute the weight evenly, reducing fatigue.

Stylish Design

The Mirrorless Mover Backpack is highly functional, and it also looks fantastic! It’s got a sleek design, handsome but not overly flashy. The backpack comes in four accent colors, Cool Grey, Coast Green, Marine Blue, and Campfire Orange. The color schemes make it suitable for professional settings as well as casual outings. It's a bag you’ll feel good about carrying around… and knowing your gear is well-protected.

Pricing & Availability

The list price for the ThinkTank Mirrorless Mover Backpack is US$149.75 and is available now. Choose from one of the four color schemes offered.

Parting Thoughts

I’m very much enjoying using the Mirrorless Mover Backpack. I’m looking to it as my go-to backpack for some extended travel where my trusty rotation backpack is too bulky and frankly overkill for the types of photography I’ll be doing.

I will highlight this… When you’re packing a mix of heavier and lighter items, stow the heavier items toward the bottom of the bag. Weight distribution is important so the backpack will sit upright when put down, especially with a laptop or tablet in the front pouch. If the bag is top-heavy, it tends to tip over when put down.

#ThinkTank #Mindshift

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worksinprogress1 · 8 months ago