#hollow cove: chapter 4 run down

[dxrkenedheights]

CHAPTER 4 - MUSINGS

A condensed version of what's happening with each of my muses.

Ryan Cross: After the supply runs fail to return, Ryan will be quite a loud voice urging that the 3 day grace period is revised. He will be difficult and volatile about this opinion and also demanding that he is on the first search party. Wolf takes his name off the list, prompting fallout between the two of them. However, Ryan does join later searches that continue through the month. He tries to join any that he can. He also throws himself into the work happening through the town when he isn't on one. Key Points: He's easily agitated, prone to being argumentative and back to his impulsive and brash ways.

Mackenzie Vaisman: She's currently in Thunder River. She will be trying to join fights in order to obtain supplies but she doesn't do very well. When she catches on that people are slowly formulating a plan of escape, she joins in to help and will be part of the escape group with Alana. Key Points: Trying to keep her head above water but eager to pull her weight to get them out of there, possibly leading to some sticky situations.

Rineike Visser: With Thorin and Egil gone, Rineike will be eager to find them but cautious of how many numbers they risk in order to do so. Could potentially cause angst if more Jansen wolves wish to join searches but Rineike is very precise about who she thinks should go, and she constantly evades discussions about it. She will be focused on the task at hand with her role as a council member. Key Points: Rineike will mostly be thinking about expanding of Hollow Cove, and continuing her and Roan's vision of hiding away supplies for their own use and slowly moving things into place for Hollow Cove to be under their control.

Charlie Prescott: A mess. No one is sure if Teddy joined the Sun Peak supply run, but Charlie thinks she did. She tries to get herself on any search party she can go on, lots of potential angst if she can't go on some. She also is passionate about revising the 3 day grace period when a run doesn't return and will be difficult about her opinion. Key Points: Most of the time she will be purely focusing on finding her daughter and absolutely nothing else matters to her.

Sebastian Belcourt: With everything happening, Seb is focusing on becoming a shift-manager for the town so he can aid the Belcourt coven to earn more spaces on runs. He's focused on trying to decipher if Felix is a threat to the coven, and come up with ideas on how they could move forward if Felix was behind the soldier's escape. Key Points: Still doing his thing, he will be easy to interact with but as always is focused on what he considers to matter most.

Asher Anderson: Has previously been helping the Belcourt witches with what he knows about the previous camp he was held in with Pri, but his knowledge is limited on where she could have been taken to. He becomes torn on where to spend most of his time, either helping the Belcourts or his own pack. He's busy during this time period because he tries to spread himself thinly, very stressed but internalizing it. Key Points: Probably will be rushed and intense in any interactions, possibly an opening for difficult situations where his mind just isn't with it because he's trying to do so much at once.

Hazel Jones: Trying to remain positive in the aftermath of Teddy missing and Sophia leaving, along with the failed supply run AND the return of her mother. She's probably a bit louder than usual as a way to conceal what she's really feeling, which is simply stressed. She's focusing on being a mother, while battling with a whole bunch of emotions. Key Points: Will probably be over the top enthusiastic in most interactions and refusing to talk about the genuine issues at hands.

Skoll Jansen: With Thorin and Egil missing, Skoll will be joining search parties where he can to look for them, along with trying to combine any searches for Lilja in the process. He'll still be annoying and cool as a cucumber during this whole time period, but probably more prone to trying to get under other people's skin to make them snap. Key Points: Still doing his thing but with slightly more tension than usual.

Jen Zhou: Currently in Thunder River. As she's been there for a while, Jen has a steady routine going. She'd be willing to join in with the plan to escape and would be willing to help. She doesn't get herself in any sticky situations if she can help it, but they tend to happen, so lots of potential for her to annoy, get into an accidental fight whatsoever. Key Points: I think she's just vibing the best someone can in the camp tbh LOL my muse isn't the strongest for her.

Tryggr Aarle: Is more focused on finding his sister than anything else. He is also spending time helping the Visser's slow moving plan, and he's helping Skadi and Torben with making new weapons and armory for their pack and coven. Key Points: Still chill, nothing bothers him. Every thread would be easy as Hell.

Suna Varland: In Thunder River. She's more or less accepted the situation she's in but is willing to join what it takes to escape, as long as it doesn't mean the wolves with her are risked. She will be against Runa joining the escape plan but ultimately has no choice but to let her do what she wishes as she's a Visser. Key Points: Would be interesting to see her working with people, as she isn't a compliant or easy personality.

Astrid Alfsson: Will be quite clearly on edge because of Egil missing, and will be willing to go on searches to help find him. She has potential of being quite difficult if she can't get on the searches, or viewing the work she has to do around the town as pointless, and unable to see the bigger picture. Key Points: Still easy to interact with and a burst of energy so anything goes.

Imogen Ashford: Will be keeping her head down with the Belcourts, as always remaining completely impartial to the happenings around her. As she's a messenger there's potential of her getting involved in a lot too, but she probably won't voice opinions about the 3 day grace period, or the work needed around the town. She'll be focused on what's happening in her coven, but really is reluctant to make any precise thought known about the situation with Felix. Key Points: Not written her yet so she's just vibing but this might change LOL

Marcellus Hart: Will be working with the Vaismans to search for Kenzie and Allie and other missing members. He will have voiced opinions against the 3 day grace period, but he's a nice guy, it'd be a nice conversation. Other than that, he'll be working around the town and helping wherever he can. Key Points: Not written him yet so things may change but also see him just vibing.

Trick, Oskar, Lexi and Dexter have more closed plot specific things happening in this Chapter so not included.

[rviner]

Character Updates: Chapter 4

Tammie Jones. Hollow Cove.

Is still kind of falling into sync with being a mama not-mama to Eden but is concerned about Teddy, Sophia and obviously the Crosses. Probably a lot of frustration that she can't do more to help. Probably will try and find a way to join Ryan on a search party.

Rory Hayes. Hollow Cove.

Shitting herself. She's worried about Hunter, Mason and Tyr is genuinely a mess rn. She probably will bite the bullet and join a search party to look for them, potential of that all going wrong.

Aidan Murphy. Hollow Cove.

Is naturally be concerned for Hunter specifically just because of the tie to Lia and Saoirse. Potential for him to offer the Cross wolves his help on any runs or searches, and potential for that to go wrong too because of the difficult situation with Isla.

Roxy Rose. Hollow Cove.

Is worried about Dominic's safety and will be on edge more than usual. Mostly Rose threads I'm guessing but she will be joining searches to look for her brother. Lot's of potential for her to cause problems on a run or search too.

Roman Araya. Hollow Cove.

Despite being thankful and closely tied and in their pack, Roman isn't as forthcoming to help search for missing Crosses. He's still swept up in searches for wolves from the Colorado packs, specifically his girl Bea. Potential for people to notice he's only put his name down for a few searches.

Ines Garcia. Hollow Cove.

Will be worried about everyone who's missing but specifically Tyr. It could possibly be what sparks her to want to train, and want to pull her weight more with the pack. Potential for it to be a bit of a Teddy situation because fr what are you gonna do Jenna Ortiny

Kas Morrison. Hollow Cove.

Since we've seen him, Kas is being more of a team player with the Vaismans but his focus had primarily been on helping Jasmine look for her sisters. However, I can see him stepping up even more to look for Kenzie and Allie too and it be a mini redemption arc for him. Chaos mostly works for his threads in one way or another.

Teddy Prescott. Thunder River.

She isn't coping and she feels like an idiot for ever thinking she had what it takes to run with the big wolves lmaoooo ok so be serious montyr. It'd be cool if she actually does something that helps someone in the camp and it brings back a little spark in her that she's not useless.

Isabella Belcourt. Hollow Cove.

Has a lot going on that is specific plots but for the mean time she is trying to find her footing in the divide that's forming in the Belcourt coven, specifically about Felix. She's easy to thread with though and can easily make friends so anything works for her.

Fox Lennox. Hollow Cove.

No words are really needed for this one LOL he's really worried about Kenzie and Allie, could possibly see him willing to put his name forward for a search, maybe even joining one and...lmao. List is endless.

Loki Jansen. Hollow Cove.

Just being a sexy slutty viking all the time tbh. He's fine but worried about his brothers, I can picture him on most searches he can go on. And just being a hot Scandi the rest of the time and annoying people. The list is always endless for him too.

Fenrir Skora. Hollow Cove.

Is a super diplomatic personality so right now he's willing to help look for Thorin and Egil, and he probably is a great personality for the Vissers to put forward as a "buffer" to hide their secret ops because Fenrir will do work around Hollow Cove willingly, and talk to most confusing outsiders. Would be interesting to see him have a conversation with someone non-Visser who has lost a child, or young family member.

Skadi Alfsson. Hollow Cove.

She's focused on her children primarily, but she's also making lots of sexy weapons in the mean time and doing whatever Roan and Rineike decide for the pack. She's another personality that would be easy to speak to for a Non-Visser but she's judgmental so also lots of room for angst. Willing to go on searches for Egil and Thorin too. List is endless really.

Runa Visser. Thunder River.

She's a reserved personality and is much like her mother, isn't the easiest to talk to but I have high muse for her so anything will work. I like the idea of seeing her have to talk more to Non-Visser characters in the camp, maybe helping one another in an unexpected fight. She joins the escape later on so an in is needed for her to be trusted to go.

Liliana Winslow. Hollow Cove.

She's a data girl so she's probably being pulled left right and center right now to formulate clear search paths etc. She's a useful character and also talkative and social so she will work thrown against anybody in a thread. Could also be interesting if her brothers sung her praises with how she is with data, but she gets something wrong and it's quite risky.

Rodrigo Medina. Hollow Cove.

Pretending to be a good guy but isn't one at all. He works in any situation and is a wildcard, that's trying to act as if he's not one so very interesting no matter what the thread is. He literally doesn't care at all if he's conversing with someone who lost everything from a Colorado town.

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Chapter 5

A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4

Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi. You wake up from your first night in the Obsidian Palace ready to explore and maybe get to know more about how you ended up here

_______________________

You slept much later than you had intended, judging by how well-rested you felt. You cursed, wishing there was a way to distinguish time. The sky was always the same. You dressed yourself in the most basic dress that had been placed in your closet, a deep purple dress, but it was still beautiful.

You gently pushed open the door and headed out into the castle. There was no one in the great hall, and no one in the throne room. You didn’t want to bother Yoongi straight away, you decided you would try to catch him as he went out to the Sea.

You turned and went down a passage you hadn’t been down yet. You were surprised to see that there was a door in the middle of this hallway that appeared to lead to the outside. You turned the handle, walked down a few steps, and found yourself in a circle, about 15 meters in diameter. The Underworld sky shone above you, the walls of the castle surrounded you on all sides. It was an empty space full with black gravel covering the ground.

This could use some improvement you thought as you stretched your fingers out, allowing green energy to flow freely. You began by creating lush grass beneath your feet. You waved your hands, creating hedges in a circle configuration with space for a path. You next added some lilies and an archway above the space. You continued to add more bushes and lilies throughout. When you arrived at the middle you created a large purple Chrysanthemum bush.

You smiled, satisfied with the garden so far. You next added some ivy running up the Palace walls.

“Oh my word. That’s stunning!” you heard a voice call out. You turned toward the door and saw Lethe standing there.

“Thank you. I do love creating a new garden from scratch,” you replied, brushing your hands together.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw something green.” Lethe responds, her mouth slightly open in awe. She walked down the steps and into the garden. “This is amazing.”

You smiled proudly.

“I was out looking for you. Is there anything I can get for you today?”

“Is there any way to tell time around here? The sky never changes,” you asked as you look up.

Lethe thinks for a moment. “I can never tell time here, but I know Lord Yoongi uses a special hourglass. Maybe he could teach you how to read it.” she shrugged. “I just do the same thing every day and count the times he leaves. He’s left once. So it’s after morning but not very late in the afternoon.”

“I suppose it really doesn’t matter all that much,” you sighed, sitting down on the ground and hugging your knees to your chest.

“M’lady surely we can bring you a bench or something to sit on out here.”

You looked up at Lethe and gave her a lopsided grin,“I’m not quite the Goddess you expected am I?”

“Oh no, you’re much nicer than any of the Goddesses from the Athenian Palace.” She immediately threw her hands up to her mouth, “Forgive me. Please forget I said that.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m a nature Goddess, not an Olypian. You are all treating me too well here. I don’t live in a palace in the mortal realm so this,“ you gestured to your dress and to the walls around you, “would definitely be seen as an upgrade.”

“I thought all Gods and Goddesses had courts and palaces?” Lethe responded as she ran a hand along one of the hedges.

“My brother keeps a palace and a court. I visit from time to time and have a room there. But, I mostly wander around nature. I sleep in caves. I find quiet coves near the ocean. Hollowed out trees. I think I might have one pair of shoes that I keep in my room at the Spring Court. Really. I am not some fancy lady,” you stood up. “What’s your favorite flower Lethe?”

“Gladiolus.” she said quietly.

You spread out your fingers and then a small bush appeared, it’s pinkish-purple blooms appearing within seconds.

“You might not be a fancy lady, but you are a great one,” Lethe said, her eyes growing wet with tears.

You decided it would be best to give her a moment, “I’m heading to the Library. Can you please let me know the next time Lord Yoongi is leaving for the Sea?”

“Of course,” you heard her say as you began your walk back to the Southern part of the castle.

----------------------------------

Yoongi walked back from his first reaping of the day. Charon had delivered the letter to Apollo and now all you two could do is wait. He shook his hair out of his face as he entered his office. He was surprised to see the flowers from the previous night were still blooming on his desk. He smiled and moved them over to one side, next to the glass orb you had arrived in.

He found himself feeling lighter than he had in centuries and wondered what he had done last night to feel so well-rested today. He walked over to the bookshelves and scanned them for a moment. Settling on one of his many notebooks he took it out and began writing. Writing music was something he had started to do as a way to break up the monotony of the Underworld. He began playing on the harpsichord, testing the notes he had envisioned during his walk earlier.

Satisfied, he moved on to lyrics. This part was more difficult. He could write music. He could write lyrics. Matching the two up for an actual song was always a series of trial and error. He poked his tongue out and found himself wondering what you were doing today. He scribbled a few lines down and decided to go and see.

He wandered through the Great Hall and saw Penthos. “Penthos, have you seen Lady Persephone today?” he asked, running his fingers through his black hair.

“I haven’t. Lethe left a while ago to see if she needed anything and hasn’t returned yet. Is there anything you need from me today m’Lord?”

“Holly’s food is getting low, please take care of that.” Yoongi put his hands on his hips as he looked around the great hall, appraising it for the first time in years.

“Yes m’lord. Anything else?”

“No,” he responded and went back into the main hallway.

He walked down the hallway and up to the quicksilver door and knocked. He suddenly felt very nervous and wondered what exactly he was going to say to you. To his slight relief and also disappointment there was no response. He continued down the Eastern corridor and was surprised to see the door to the small courtyard open. He practiced in his head Good afternoon Persephone did you sleep well? Did you like the dresses. No. Too weird. Ugh He walked over and was shocked to see a fully in bloom garden there. Well you had definitely been here. He carefully walked down, afraid he would harm even the grass that was freshly created. He hadn’t visited the mortal realm in centuries and other than the flowers last night, he hadn’t seen anything like this in forever. He gently touched one of the white flowers, afraid his touch might cause it to wither and die like the mortals said. To his pleasant surprise, the flower remained. He let out a breath, he wasn’t a monster. He wandered through the rest of the small area admiring the blooms and the pleasant fragrance in the air.

He walked back over to the hallway and closed the door behind him. He heard footsteps approaching as Lethe rounded the corner.

“Lord Yoongi.”

“Good day Lethe. Have you seen Lady Persephone?”

“Yes, I just left her in the library. Shall I go fetch her?” Lethe asked, beginning to turn around.

“No, no. Thank you.” he started walking over that way.

He pushed open the black glass doors to the library, his footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Much like the Quicksilver room and the Throne room, the shelves and benches in here were carved into the very Obsidian with which they were made.

Yoongi walked over and saw you gently levitating some books on the second floor, dusting them off with a breeze, and sending dust out the window. The dress Arachne had made fit you perfectly, he admired from the library entrance.

You turned and looked down at him, “Just doing some Spring cleaning.” you grinned. “Get it? Because I’m Spring,” you laughed at your own terrible pun.

For a minute he just stood there looking confused, and then a small gummy smile crept across his face. And then he started to laugh as well

.

“I know, I know, I am hilarious.” you put that stack of books back and summoned another one. Satisfied with that finished row you turned towards Yoongi. “How are you today?”

“Surprisingly refreshed.” he responded and walked up a few steps so he was on the same level as you. He walked over to the open window. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, fidgeting with his black shirt sleeve.

“I did. Thank you for the clothes. I’d love to give the seamstress my compliments. The material is so soft and well made.”

“I’ll let her know,” Yoogi smirked as he turned back towards the window. Making eye contact was always difficult for him.

“I wouldn’t mind doing so myself.” you responded, walking closer.

Yoongi clicked his tongue, “Maybe another time. She’s uh...not quite human and very much a creature of the Underworld. But I’ll let her know.”

You walked over and sat in the window seat next to where he was standing.

He looked over at your face, and even though he’d only known you for around twenty-four hours, he could detect something was wrong; the air of cheerfulness gone from you. And he couldn’t explain why he cared so much that you seemed unhappy. “Is something bothering you Persephone?”

You let out a sigh. “Not really bothering me per say but there are a few things I would like to ask you.”

Yoongi felt his heart rate beginning to pick up. He had lied to himself thinking you were happy here. You were going to demand that he return you immediately. His breathing became more shallow.

You looked over and noticed his eyes were suddenly pinched shut and he wasn't breathing. You reached out and took his hand, shaking it slightly “Hey. Are you ok?”

He looked down at where the two of you were connected and he was suddenly pulled out of his own self-destructive thoughts. He pulled his hand away gently, “Of course. What did you want to ask me?”

“Ok, first: how do you tell time down here?” you ask exasperated.

Yoongi laughed, suddenly feeling like an idiot for his almost meltdown a few seconds ago,

“That’s what you wanted to ask me? The most important thing?” he turned and smiled at you.

“Yes. It’s the most important thing ever. Ever. I can deal with being kidnapped but I really just need to know the time of day,” you say dramatically. “Seriously though. It’s very disorienting.

You probably don’t even notice it because you’ve lived here for so long, but not having morning, midday, and night is really confusing.”

He ran a hand along his jaw, “I suppose that’s true. I just go down to the shore three times a day. If there are even 24 hours in a day here,” he seemed to think this over thoughtfully.

“So you don’t really know either?” you smirked.

Yoongi pressed his lips together in a way that looked almost like a duck making you giggle.

“Alright. So time doesn’t matter here in the Underworld. Got it.” you throw up your hand, holding up two fingers, “Next question: Why did Namjoon bring me here specifically?”

“Ah, a real concern.” Yoongi stated quietly.

“More of a question than a concern really. I’d much rather be with you than anywhere with Namjoon,” you stated as though it was the most obvious thing ever.

You’d be the first Yoongi thought but he was so surprised and happy at what you said, a blush started to form on his face and he forgot what you had asked him exactly.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to tell me, but if you know I’d really appreciate it,” you said quietly, looking out the window.

“Aish, sorry. It’s um. Embarrassing it all. He uhh….thought I could use some company.” he looked down at his feet. “He thinks I must be lonely down here.” he added quietly.

“Were you?” you asked looking over your shoulder.

His gaze remained at the floor and he shrugged his shoulders. Yes. Gods yes. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” Liar

The two of you stay there for an indeterminate amount of time before you ask, “What are those called?”

“Pardon?” he walked over to the window, leaning over behind you to see what you were gesturing to. “Those are called, those mountains over there, North of the Castle.” he laughed, you could feel his breath on your neck.

You scrunched up your nose and turned to face him, “That is a truly unimaginative name.”

“Add it to the list. You’ve got a cave and a mountain range to name.”

“So much responsibility.” you pretended to whine.

Yoongi smiled at you and made the mistake of looking into your eyes because he suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were and took a few steps back. He rubbed his hands together. “Well it’s about time to go collect some more dead people.”

“Wow, when you put it like that it sounds much less interesting.” you mused.

“Will you be joining me?” he asked, trying to not sound too eager.

You looked around the library. Your cleaning could wait until later even though you felt slightly compelled to finish what you had started. “I’d love to.” NEXT CHAPTER

[rose-of-pollux]

The Skull Cove Lighthouse Affair (MFU fic), part 4 / 4

Title: The Skull Cove Lighthouse Affair Rating: PG13 (for action/danger) Chapter summary: Napoleon and Illya solve the mystery--but a malevolent spirit has reason for them not to reveal the truth. Notes: This version of the fic (cross-posted to AO3) is light slash; if you prefer reading gen, there is a gen version on ff.net.

                                        Act IV: The Insatiable Greed

It took them some time to get back down the stairs and outside to where the others were gathered, but, as they arrived, Fusco’s car was already being gently laid back onto the ground.  Despite this, Fusco scrambled out of the vehicle, still staring at it with a mix of horror and frustration.

“What happened!?” Illya asked.

“I don’t know!” Fusco bellowed.  “I was trying to get through the fog, and, all of a sudden, the car started floating!”

“Look at where the car is pointed, though,” Napoleon indicated.  “Right towards the cliff.  You’d have ended up a ghost yourself if this one hadn’t intervened!”

Fusco grumbled something under his breath; Napoleon ignored him and turned to Hawthorne.

“We didn’t really find anything up at the top; there is one other place I wanted to look at, and that was at the bottom of the cliff—is there a trail that leads down there?”

“There is,” Hawthorne said. “But I’d advise against it in the fog, too—it’s pretty steep, even on the trail.”

“I say we forget that, Napoleon,” Illya said.  “We’d be just as foolish as Fusco if we knowingly attempted that.”

Fusco glared at him, but Illya ignored him; Napoleon, of course, agreed with Illya, and then changed his inquiry.

“Do you happen to know the exact spot where the ship went down?” he asked.

“I do—not that it matters on a day as foggy as this, though—you won’t be able to see a thing,” Hawthorne sighed.  “But on clear days, you can actually see the shipwreck under the water from the top of the lighthouse.  …It’s a humbling experience—especially when the ghost ship rises from the spot, according to the thrill seekers.”  He sighed. “And it doesn’t look like Junior and I will get away like we usually do—so we’ll be around with you when the ghost ship rises again.”

“So the ghost ship…” Illya began.  “It rises on Halloween and… goes back down again by morning?”

“Just before dawn,” James Jr said, with a nod.  “Apparently, at exactly the same time it sunk a hundred years ago.”

Lotte shuddered.

Schuler attempted to look through the fog, but gave up.

“Well, the ship will be visible through the fog, I’m sure,” he said.  “Guess there’s nothing to do but sit around and wait for dark.”

Lotte turned and ran back inside, much to the concern of her sister, who followed her.  Napoleon and Illya also went inside.

“Are you alright?” Napoleon asked.

“No.  I wish to leave this place,” Lotte said.

“If it is a small consolation, the spirit of the lighthouse keeper is not a malevolent one,” Illya pointed out.  “As you saw, he saved Fusco from his own stupidity.”

Lotte sighed and nodded; she had to agree with that.

“Illya’s right,” Napoleon said.  “We’re perfectly safe in the lighthouse; this place is as solid as a rock--”

To demonstrate, he struck the central support column with his fist, which the stairwell was wrapped around, and was startled and distracted by a hollow clank.  Illya and the sisters also stared at the column in confusion.

“…Well, maybe not as solid as I thought,” Napoleon said.

“Why would this central column be hollow?” Illya wondered aloud.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Napoleon said.  He turned to the Rigassi sisters.  “Ladies, I highly recommend staying in your room if you want to feel safe; we’ll investigate the mystery behind this central column.”

The girls nodded and went back to their room as Napoleon and Illya inspected the central column as they ascended the spiral staircase.

“There’s only one reason why a central column would be hollow, Napoleon,” Illya said.  “And that is to conceal something within it.”

“And if there’s something hidden in it, there has to be some way to get to it,” Napoleon agreed.

If there was something hidden, then it was well-hidden, however; as the duo continued to ascend the staircase, there didn’t appear to a way into the column, and soon, they were back at the light at the top—and the column did not continue into it.

“…Well, that didn’t make any sense at all…” Napoleon said.  “Were we wrong?”

Illya paused for a moment, mulling things over.  Absently, he kicked at the old, dusty carpet that covered the floor.  Napoleon wrinkled his nose as dust filled the air, and he was about to say something when he looked down and noticed something through one of the threadbare patches of the carpet.

“Hang on…” he said, kneeling down in front of the spot.  He frowned for a moment, and then knocked on the floor.

It, too, gave out a hollow sound; his eyes widened as he exchanged a glance with Illya, whose eyebrows arched in surprise.

Without even needing to say a word, the two of them pulled the carpet back, revealing a thinly-cut trapdoor in the floor.

“There is the entry,” Illya said, as he pried it open.  He shined a flashlight down into the open pillar—sure enough, it was hollow all the way through.  Moving the flashlight around revealed a series of metal rungs built into the side of the pillar.

“This must go to some sort of secret cellar down there,” Napoleon said.  “I think I want to climb down and take a look…”

“I would advise against it,” Illya said.  “But if you must, I wouldn’t trust this old ladder that is built into it; I have an extendable grappling hook in our supplies.  I suggest we use that to climb down.

Napoleon considered this for a moment, and then nodded.

“Good idea,” he said. “But let’s act nonchalant—we don’t want the other guests realizing what we’re up to.”

“…How nonchalant can you look carry a grappling hook?”

Fortunately, they didn’t run into the other guests—the sisters were in their room, and the others were still trying to figure out what had happened to Fusco’s car outside.

Using the grappling hook, Napoleon clambered down into the hollow central column; he was keeping track of the floors, and paused once he realized they had certainly gone below the ground floor.

The central passageway continued for another 20 feet before Napoleon’s feet hit the ground; looking around with a flashlight, he saw that there was an underground tunnel that led downward, further into the cliff.

“Hey, Illya, it looks like we’ll be able to get to the bottom of the cliff after all!”

“Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t coincidental?” Illya replied, as he joined Napoleon and saw the tunnel.

“Because I’m sure it isn’t, too,” Napoleon said.  “I think we may have found the key to this whole thing…”

The tunnel looped around and continued downward into the cliff; it was almost a half hour before it began to level off—and water soon was covering the floor of the tunnel.

“The tide affects the water level,” Illya realized, checking his watch.  “See?  The tide is coming in now—would you rather come back later, Napoleon?”

Napoleon frowned.

“Let’s see how much deeper it gets,” he said.  “I think I’m okay for now--”

No sooner had he said that than he tripped over something and fell on his face into the water.  Illya hastily helped him up as he gasped for breath.

“Okay, nevermind, let’s go back,” Napoleon sputtered.  “Ugh… Well, here’s another suit for the laundromat.”  He scowled at the wet mud and sand that now covered him.

Illya gave him a sympathetic look and glanced down to see what exactly Napoleon had tripped over.

“Napoleon!”

He aimed his flashlight in the water, showing what was once a small, wooden boat—now no more than chunks of rotten wood.

“Someone had been using this tunnel,” Napoleon said, forgetting about his muddy clothes in an instant.  “But I wonder…”  He trailed off as his flashlight caught the remains of letters carved into part of the wooden boat.  “‘W…y…v…’”

“The Wyvern!?” Illya exclaimed.

“It’s the lifeboat that Purser Smith must have taken!” Napoleon said, continuing to shine his flashlight around the pieces of the lifeboat.  “Huh…  What were the odds that the storm would send his lifeboat right into this cave…?”  He trailed off again as his flashlight beam caught something else in and amongst the rotten wood—something mostly buried in the silt and mud, but still giving off an unmistakable shine…

Napoleon reached into the muck and pulled out a gold bar, covered in the gunk, but still very much a treasure.  Illya’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“The odds of the storm sending the lifeboat here by chance are not as likely now,” he said.  He snapped his fingers.  “Napoleon, do you remember Adams’s log?  ‘I pray they will be able to make it safely, especially with that heavy cargo.’  Gold, Napoleon—they were carrying gold!”

“No wonder they were willing to risk the storm to bring it in,” Napoleon said.  He then frowned.  “Then… that means that…  Lying just off of the coast here is possibly…”

“…A fortune in century-old gold,” Illya finished.  His eyes widened.  “Napoleon, can I speculate on a possible scenario?”

“Speculate away…”

“Whenever merchant ships were carrying gold, there were, generally, very few people who knew about it—for reasons of safety.”

“Obviously,” Napoleon agreed.  “In a case like this, the less who would know, the better.”

“Exactly,” Illya said. “The captain would know—and he would trust his first mate with this information, too.  Keeper Adams seems to have known, as well, given the log entry, plus the fact that the shipping company would have been questioning him about the wreck later in order to find out what happened to their gold—unless the gold was off the ledgers, but, even so, Adams knew the captain well enough to be privy to the contents of the cargo.  Other than the three of them, there would be no one else who would know in the event that things on the voyage go smoothly.”

“…But things didn’t go smoothly; most of the crew got sick, including the first mate,” Napoleon recalled.  “I see where you’re going with this—Captain Sturges had to let Purser Smith in on the secret of the cargo…”

“…And, somehow, Purser Smith becomes the sole survivor of the crew,” Illya finished.  “With gold in hand, apparently, right into this tunnel.”

“And this tunnel goes all the way to the top of the lighthouse…” Napoleon realized.

The two exchanged glances.

“The light that went out!” they exclaimed, in unison.

“…Bozhe moi…” Illya gasped.  “Then it wasn’t Adams’s fault at all—Purser Smith sabotaged the lighthouse out of greed!”

Napoleon nodded.

“He grabbed some of the gold and took off in the lifeboat—probably couldn’t take as much as he wanted since it would be too heavy,” Napoleon theorized.  “Either he knew about this tunnel, or just ended up in it by happenstance from the storm.  Regardless of how he got here and found out where it led, he decided to take advantage of it.”

“He probably did not intend to have the ship sink,” Illya said.  “At least, I would hope that was the case—perhaps he just wanted to run it aground, so that he could retrieve more gold later…”

“But the ship sank; it would have caused quite a stir—so many people milling around, including press and investigators…” Napoleon said.  “Smith wouldn’t have had a chance to dive for the gold, Adams probably stuck around for long hours out of guilt, and the new keeper probably stayed extra hours, too, just to be vigilant and make sure nothing happened on his watch.”

“But then the place was abandoned,” Illya said.  “Why did he not go for the gold then?”

“Maybe whoever ordered the shipment hired divers to collect it before Smith could,” Napoleon suggested. “But I feel like that would have been mentioned in the logs…  Maybe Smith did go for the gold afterwards, who knows.  At any rate, at least Adams has been vindicated…”  Napoleon trailed off, slapping his forehead.  “Vindicate!  It wasn’t about the wind at all!”

“What?”

“What I thought I heard Adams say—he wasn’t saying ‘Wind hates me,’ he was saying ‘Vindicate me!’ He goes to visit Captain Sturges’s ghost at the shipwreck—Sturges probably told him about Smith’s betrayal!”

Illya paused.

“Then… do you suppose that the spirit who took Schuler’s camera and polaroids of Adams’s footprints was Smith—trying to keep us from finding out the truth?” he asked, putting the pieces together.

“That must be it; there’s no one else who would benefit from Adams taking the blame for the shipwreck,” Napoleon said.  “But why would Smith be haunting this place if he eventually got his gold?”

They glanced at the gold bar in Napoleon’s hand, and then out the tunnel—towards the cliffside and the ocean.

“Perhaps he did not get the gold,” Illya said.  “Perhaps he never got the chance—or perhaps he drowned trying to get it.  Regardless of the reason, Smith never got to enjoy the gold.”

“That must have driven him crazy—in life, and after,” Napoleon mused.  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that—let’s get back up there and let everyone know the truth.  Maybe then, Adams will finally be able to cross over once the truth of his story is out.”

Illya nodded and moved to follow Napoleon back the way they had come, but a sudden gust of wind that was abnormally chill-inducing blew back at them with such a force that they could not proceed down the tunnel.

“What’s going on!?” Illya demanded.

“I don’t think Purser Smith appreciates the truth getting out,” Napoleon scowled, and he furiously addressed the spirit.  “Hey! It’s over!  It’s been a hundred years—and everything you did was for nothing! Let this whole thing go, and let Adams and the rest of the Wyvern crew cross over!”

The chill wind blew with a greater force, sending Napoleon flying backward into the rising water.

“Napoleon--!”

Illya swam after him, helping him stay afloat.

“What now…?” Napoleon said, looking at rising water with concern.  “We can’t go back—and the tide is coming in…”

“…He means to drown us…” Illya said, going pale; Napoleon followed suit.  “So many deaths are on his hands already—two more mean nothing at this point.”

“Should we try and rush past him again and try to get back up the tunnel?” Napoleon asked.

“It is not a force from this world; we’ll never make it,” Illya said.  He looked behind him, at the exit to the sea that was rapidly being closed off by water.  “We shall have to swim for it, Napoleon; it’s our only chance.”

Napoleon exhaled, cursing his weak swimming skills.

“I will help you,” Illya assured him, giving him an encouraging kiss.

Napoleon nodded, kissing him back, and the two of them swam—against the rising tide, out into the water.

Illya was, of course, true to his word, refusing to let go of his partner.  A few times, they did end up, briefly, underwater, and they saw a glimpse of the wreck of the Wyvern off in the distance.  Once they finally made it to the shoreline, they glanced at each other, both of them exhausted from their efforts—as well as the grim truth of what had happened that night a hundred years ago.

So much death and devastation, and for what?  Bars of yellow metal?  Were they really worth the lives of so many innocent men?  And yet, this was just one example—gold and the greed it caused had been the motive for plots upon plots throughout the course of history—and would likely continue for centuries to come.

After catching their breath, Illya spoke again.

“We need to make our way up the cliffside path; the tide will continue to rise,” he said.

“Smith will try to stop us,” Napoleon realized.  “You heard what Hawthorne said; in this fog, the trek is going to be dangerous.”

“At least we have some amount of daylight,” Illya sighed.

No sooner had he said that than the entire area around the lighthouse and the cliff was surrounded in darkness.

“What!?” Illya exclaimed in frustration.  He aimed a flashlight at his watch.  “It’s only noon!”

“His powers will be stronger in the dark,” Napoleon realized.  “He’s giving himself an edge!”

“He can do what he wishes—we are not going to drown here!” Illya fumed.  “I vowed after last year—I will not let anything from the supernatural world take you away from me! My love—our love—is stronger than his greed!”

He kissed Napoleon again, and the darkness around the immediate area around them lifted slightly.

“…I think you’re on to something here, Illya,” Napoleon said, after they broke apart.

“You aren’t just saying that to kiss me again, are you?”

“No… well, mostly no,” Napoleon admitted.  “But look; our kiss did this—lifted the darkness a bit.  I think even part of the fog has thinned around us, too…”

Illya nodded.

“Let’s go, Dorogoy.”

It was a slow journey up the cliffside path—Smith sent everything he could at them to stop them, or send them tumbling down the cliff—darkness, wind, fog, and rain.  But they stuck together, reaffirming their trust and love, and these acts of true love were enough to lighten the area and clear it of the malice-infected elements.

It was as they were nearly two-thirds up the hill that they paused; coming at them from the opposite end of the path was the blue ghost light Napoleon had seen in the lighthouse when they had arrived the night before—and following the light were Schuler, the Rigassi sisters, Hawthorne, his son, and even Fusco.

“I see them!” Lotte cried, pointing at Napoleon and Illya.

They hastened down the path as quickly as they could.

“What’s this?” Napoleon asked.

“You never came back from inspecting the pillar,” Lotte said, a slight quiver in her voice.  “And then everything was covered in darkness. Gina and me, we told Signore Hawthorne and Signore Schuler for help—and then this appeared…”

She indicated the ghost light.

“We remembered what you said about this one not being evil,” Gina added.  “So we all agreed to follow him, in the hopes he would lead us to you.”

“Yes, this is the ghost of the lighthouse keeper,” Napoleon said.  “Who wrongly thought that he was responsible for the wreck of the Wyvern…”

The wind and darkness howled around them again, and Napoleon glared furiously at the greedy spirit.

“Look, I told you—it’s over!  The power of love that Illya and I have is stronger than you can ever handle!  And it’s not just the two of us—look around you, Smith!  Look at these people who came to help us, when they haven’t even known us for 24 hours yet!  They didn’t do this out of greed—this is a goodness that your dark heart can’t touch!”

For a brief moment, a dark, shadowy mass appeared, which then formed into the shape of a person—features were visible in the shadow: a face, bearing a furious expression.

“It’s over, Smith,” Napoleon said, again.  “And your time is up.”

“Do svidaniya,” Illya said, nodding, holding Napoleon’s hand.

Smith let out a frustrated, angry roar, leaped into the air, and plunged into the water—in the direction of the shipwreck, bound by his greed for gold.

The darkness around them dissipated—and then the fog lifted, too.  The weather was a clear, fall morning, just as pleasant as could be.

The ghost light now also took a human shape—Adams, as he had looked in life.

“Thank you, my friends,” he said.  “For clearing my name.  It happened as you suspected—Smith betrayed Sturges and the crew, and led me to think that I had been responsible for the shipwreck.  Sturges and the others never let him claim the gold in life—and now, he will continue in death to claim it, but in vain.”

“It seems to me a fitting punishment,” Illya said.  “He will not be able to cross over until he finally learns to curb his greed.”

“But what about you?” Napoleon asked Adams.

“Now, I may finally rest—but I will wait until tonight, for when my good friend Sturges raises the ghost ship, I will join him—for they, too, were bound to this place until the truth came out.”  He managed a weary smile.  “I would be honored if you stayed here until tonight to see us off.”

Napoleon looked to Illya with a questioning look; the blond sighed, but managed a wan smile.

“Very well,” he said. “It can’t hurt.”

“Si…  We, too, will stay,” Lotte said, causing everyone to look at her in surprise. Gina looked thrilled, exchanging a glance with James Jr.

“Well, you bet I’m staying!” Schuler added.  “Hey, think I can get an interview with you, Mr. Adams?  Sir?  It’d be my first ghost interview--”

“Look, I really have places I need to be, so I’m going to have to turn down this little invitation,” Fusco said, gruffly.  He looked back at Napoleon and Illya, and managed a nod.  “You two did good,” he admitted, and then went back to his car and drove off.

“…He’ll never admit it,” Hawthorne said.  “But I think he really was worried about you boys when you went missing.”

“Well, I do grow on a person,” Napoleon boasted.

Illya just rolled his eyes.

                                               ***********************

There was little ceremony or fanfare that night; Adams had regaled them with tales from a century ago until Captain Sturges and crew emerged from the water on a ghostly version of the Wyvern.

Adams thanked them again and walked out to join them, embracing Sturges’s spirit in joyous relief. And then, as the crew on board waved farewell, they vanished, ship and all—their souls at rest, at last.

By morning, they had gone their separate ways—the Rigassi sisters were on their way to Brooklyn by train while Napoleon and Illya headed to Manhattan by car, aiming to have U.N.C.L.E. track down the rightful owner of the gold and eventually return it to them; Schuler had extended his stay at the bed and breakfast to write out his next book on the story of the Wyvern while everything was still fresh in his mind.

“You know,” Napoleon said, as they sailed along the highway. “Aside from the part where we almost got stuck in that tunnel with the tide coming it, it wasn’t a horrible adventure after all.”

“…I have to agree,” Illya admitted.  “Stingy Jack was far worse.  Most of the spirits were blameless, and the one malevolent one never stood a chance against us.”

“I wonder if he’ll ever let go of his greed…” Napoleon mused.  “Well, even if he does, his fate isn’t so great—with all the lives he took and his lack of remorse, even if he did cross over, he’d end up with old Mr. Zero. He’s probably best off where he is—as an example of what happens when greed consumes you.”

Illya nodded.

“Very true,” he said. “You know I have always opted for living a simple life.”

“Well, comfort and luxury aren’t inherently bad things.”

“Of course not,” Illya agreed.  “I will not look gift horses in the mouth—but I would be sure that others less fortunate than myself would get a chance to benefit from them, as well.  And while I may roll my eyes at your penchant for the luxuries of life, I know that your heart is pure and will not be tainted by greed, for you put human lives ahead of riches—that was where Smith went wrong.”

“Everything I have, everything I have a birthright to…  I’d give them all up in a heartbeat for you,” Napoleon promised.

“I know you would,” Illya said.  “And I do not take that lightly.”  He smiled. “You know I do not wear my heart on my sleeve, but I must say this--I do love you very much, Napoleon, and I know I am a wealthy man solely because I have you in my life.”

“Likewise, Illya,” Napoleon said, smiling back.  “I love you, too.”

A partnership and love as strong as theirs was truly the most valuable treasure that could ever exist.

                                                    The End

[littleladysongbird]

Feeling Slightly Overboard: A Gwenvid Fic

Hey! I’m back from the dead! While I’ve been busy at work with papers and other really cool writing projects, I realized I missed Gwenvid week and decided to write something to make up for it. So, inspired by @zippybot‘s wonderful Gwenvid art for Day 5 & 6, here’s a very short fluffy fic!

(Oh yeah and I don’t own Camp Camp)

-xoxo Diana 

***

It had always been a really bad idea at its core.

After all, despite having free reign over the camp with Campbell off and gone to god-knows where, it was still...inappropriate to be in a public relationship with one another. Technically they were employees of the local government, and inter-department relationships were absolutely out of the question.

But the kids had passed out early and it was way too hot to stay in the cabin and watch a movie. So David and Gwen stole camp supplies and a canoe and literally pitched themselves a date in one of the isolated coves of Lake Lilac.

Camping and late-night canoeing was David’s idea from the get-go,  though he certainly didn’t expect to be taking her out in the middle of camp season. She was determined to make it work, though, and all but physically dragged him out the door in order to enjoy some peace and quiet together outside the confines of screened windows.

And he wanted to.

Lord, he wanted to.

But even two hours in without a single mishap, his stomach was tripled knotted with anxiety, and he wanted nothing less than to be back at the cabin fast asleep on his own cott, even when Gwen was relaxed and happy in the opposite end of the boat.

It had already been a few weeks since they had made the relationship official, and he was still as nervous as he was the first night they had kissed. He tried to chalk it up to the threat of being fired, but deep down, even David knew that there was really no reason to worry about getting discovered.

Mostly because it still felt like they weren’t even a couple.

The initial decision was quickly decided, and despite a consistent pattern subtle flirting and stolen kisses and late-night conversation, there was little to show for them as a couple. For the first time, David had begun to look forward to the end of camp, since it meant he and Gwen could spend time together as a couple. And yet, in the hollow of his chest, the fear of losing her before summer’s end continued to strike him with a sharp, brutal blow. It was frustrating, and despite all his attempts to-

“David?”

He snapped his head up, hair flouncing in the breeze as he focused his gaze back at the woman sitting across from him. She was frowning, slightly biting her bottom lip as she reached out to grab his hand.

“Hey,” she smiled, “you okay? You look super stressed.”

“Nope!” he laughed through a strained smile, “I just...I haven’t been on a proper date in a while, you know?”

“Don’t worry; it’s going great so far.”

“Thanks,” he blushed, giving her hand a squeeze before grasping the paddle in hand to guide them back to shore.

Their temporary campsite was tucked out of the way, hidden from nearly every angle and shaded by small limestone formations and tall pines. It lacked proper starlight and the shoreline was a slightly unforgiving bed of pebbles, but it was a good sanctuary from the outside world.

“So,” Gwen yawned, letting her hand dip into the clear water as the boat floated on the edge of the cove, “how exactly did you find this place?”

“I can’t remember, honestly,” he sighed, leaning back to look up at the rim of the moon, “I think it was during district training; I was taking a summer class at the community college while also doing my training, and I just needed a quiet place to study. As far as I can tell, nobody ever comes over here since it’s kind of rocky and the tide can flood camp if you don’t know where to pitch it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” David sat back up, watching Gwen lazily draw patterns on the cold surface of the lake. For a moment, everything was calm.

Then a tree branch snapped.

Anxiety blew him backwards like a bullet to the face, causing the canoe to dip and toss both Gwen and David into the freezing water.

“Jesus!” Gwen gasped, her entire body turning a stark shade of white as she scrambled to her feet in the freezing water, “what the hell David?”

“I’m sorry!” He choked, “I thought...there was something.”

“Did you see someone?”

“N-no,” he avoided her gaze, pushing the boat onto the shore as quickly as possible, “I just...it scared me. I’m sorry.”

“David-”

“Just, go dry off.” He mumbled, skin burning with humiliation. “There’s some blankets in the tent if you want.”

He braced himself for what she has to say, but she was silent, quietly moving past him and ducking into the tent. David sighed, peeling off his own shirt and trousers and laying them by the fire before sitting by the flames himself. He was the very definition of humiliation: drenched in cold water, red-faced, and wearing nothing but his boxers and make-shift bandanna.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and losing himself to sound of nature until the sharp scratching of a zipper drew his attention.

“You okay?”

David looked over his right shoulder, surprised to find Gwen beside him with a gentle smile on her face. Her hair was down, a blanket draped across her waist to avoid the complete exposure of her undergarments. David turned back towards the fire, dropping his gaze to the ashes that burst before him.

“...I’m sorry, Gwen,” he sighed, “this was supposed to be a fun date.”

“David-”

“But I ruined it.”

He let the words fall into the open, his own heart heavy with self-loathing and doubt. His chance with her had been slim, and he had completely ruined it. He could hear her awkward breathing and apologies in the back of his imagination, and felt tears boiling under his eyes.

“David-”

He shook, breathing sharply as he prepared for the impact of her words.

“No you didn’t.” He blinked, turning to find her gazing up at him, leaning against his shoulder and taking his hand in her own. “I’m having fun.”

David stared at her, turning a vivid shade of pink as her fingers began to trace along his wrist.

“You’re not...mad at me?”

“Come on, David,” she snorted, rolling her eyes and tucking herself under his chin, “I know we haven’t exactly been the most romantic couple with all these little shits running around, but it’s gonna take a lot more than falling out of a boat to get me to actually break up with you.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip, trying to prevent the stupid smile sprouting on his face. “So...you still, like, want to do this with me?”

“Of course you idiot,” Gwen laughed, “it’s been killing me that those little shits won’t shut the fuck up till one am! Why do you think I’ve been so adamant about you sending those fuckers on an eight hour hike to God-knows where?”

David chuckled under his breath, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Thanks, Gwen.”

“No problem, David!” She snorted, locking eyes with him. David dug a little tighter into her ribs, eyes unflinching from her own. He was feeling jumpy and anxious again, but this time it made him feel...good. With a deep breath, he gently pushed her hand a bit farther behind her, hovering over her with a slight hesitation.

“Hey, Gwen?” He blushed. “Can I...kiss you?”

To his surprise, she laughs, leaning in until she nearly brushes her lips on his own.

“Hell yeah!”

Their lips are locked within seconds, his arms winding themselves around her waist as her own hands knotted behind his head. It was a lot...rougher, than what he was used to, but it was by no means bad. He quite liked the feeling of her tongue pressed against his own, weight shifting ever so slightly and heat rising with the friction between their skin.

“G-god,” Gwen moaned, rocking back on his lap ever so slightly to catch her breath, “that’s...that felt good.”

David bit down on his entire bottom lip, trying to ignore the sudden rush of warmth to his hips. But the bulge began to grow, and, to his complete humiliation, she began to snicker.

“You good, David?”

“J-j-just fine,” he gulped, “sorry, I-”

“It’s not a bad thing. That is, unless you don’t…” she looked up, leaning back to support herself on her own arms, “do you...want to?”

“Want to what?”

“You know; do it? With me? You know...right now?”

“Oh.” David froze, slightly flustered and unsure. “I mean, I want to, but I’m not...I haven’t…”

“Oh, well, we don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” David grasped her waist, pulling her back into his arms. “I just...I might not be good at it.”

“David, nobody’s good at it. We just...we do it.”

“Okay.” He nodded, kissing her deeper and deeper until she was sprawled out below him. He smiled at her, sheepish and still slightly nervous.

“Is this okay, Gwen?”

Gwen looked up, trying to keep her eyes focused on his own instead of the discrete trail of freckles that crawled down his body. Sweating slightly, she grinned. 

“Perfect.”

***

(PS: In case you were wondering my other CC fics, reader; yes, I’m still working on Bastard Valley. I have a personal project I need to complete in the next week, but then I will get to work and probably upload chapters 4 and 5 relatively soon)

(PPS: PLEASE FOLLOW @zippybot THEY DESERVE THE BEST!)

[thesnhuup]

Pop Picks – September 7, 2018

What I’m listening to:

With a cover pointing back to the Beastie Boys’ 1986 Licensed to Ill, Eminem’s quietly released Kamikaze is not my usual taste, but I’ve always admired him for his “all out there” willingness to be personal, to call people out, and his sheer genius with language. I thought Daveed Diggs could rap fast, but Eminem is supersonic at moments, and still finds room for melody. Love that he includes Joyner Lucas, whose “I’m Not Racist” gets added to the growing list of simply amazing music videos commenting on race in America. There are endless reasons why I am the least likely Eminem fan, but when no one is around to make fun of me, I’ll put it on again.

What I’m reading:

Lesley Blume’s Everyone Behaves Badly, which is the story behind Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and his time in 1920s Paris (oh, what a time – see Midnight in Paris if you haven’t already). Of course, Blume disabuses my romantic ideas of that time and place and everyone is sort of (or profoundly so) a jerk, especially…no spoiler here…Hemingway. That said, it is a compelling read and coming off the Henry James inspired prose of Mrs. Osmond, it made me appreciate more how groundbreaking was Hemingway’s modern prose style. Like his contemporary Picasso, he reinvented the art and it can be easy to forget, these decades later, how profound was the change and its impact. And it has bullfights.

What I’m watching:

Chloé Zhao’s The Rider is just exceptional. It’s filmed on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which provides a stunning landscape, and it feels like a classic western reinvented for our times. The main characters are played by the real-life people who inspired this narrative (but feels like a documentary) film. Brady Jandreau, playing himself really, owns the screen. It’s about manhood, honor codes, loss, and resilience – rendered in sensitive, nuanced, and heartfelt ways. It feels like it could be about large swaths of America today. Really powerful.

  Archive

August 16, 2018

What I’m listening to:

In my Spotify Daily Mix was Percy Sledge’s When A Man Loves A Woman, one of the world’s greatest love songs. Go online and read the story of how the song was discovered and recorded. There are competing accounts, but Sledge said he improvised it after a bad breakup. It has that kind of aching spontaneity. It is another hit from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, one of the GREAT music hotbeds, along with Detroit, Nashville, and Memphis. Our February Board meeting is in Alabama and I may finally have to do the pilgrimage road trip to Muscle Shoals and then Memphis, dropping in for Sunday services at the church where Rev. Al Green still preaches and sings. If the music is all like this, I will be saved.

What I’m reading:

John Banville’s Mrs. Osmond, his homage to literary idol Henry James and an imagined sequel to James’ 1881 masterpiece Portrait of a Lady. Go online and read the first paragraph of Chapter 25. He is…profoundly good. Makes me want to never write again, since anything I attempt will feel like some other, lowly activity in comparison to his mastery of language, image, syntax. This is slow reading, every sentence to be savored.

What I’m watching:

I’ve always respected Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but we just watched the documentary RGB. It is over-the-top great and she is now one of my heroes. A superwoman in many ways and the documentary is really well done. There are lots of scenes of her speaking to crowds and the way young women, especially law students, look at her is touching.  And you can’t help but fall in love with her now late husband Marty. See this movie and be reminded of how important is the Law.

July 23, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spotify’s Summer Acoustic playlist has been on repeat quite a lot. What a fun way to listen to artists new to me, including The Paper Kites, Hollow Coves, and Fleet Foxes, as well as old favorites like Leon Bridges and Jose Gonzalez. Pretty chill when dialing back to a summer pace, dining on the screen porch or reading a book.

What I’m reading:

Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy. Founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, Stevenson tells of the racial injustice (and the war on the poor our judicial system perpetuates as well) that he discovered as a young graduate from Harvard Law School and his fight to address it. It is in turn heartbreaking, enraging, and inspiring. It is also about mercy and empathy and justice that reads like a novel. Brilliant.

What I’m watching:

Fauda. We watched season one of this Israeli thriller. It was much discussed in Israel because while it focuses on an ex-special agent who comes out of retirement to track down a Palestinian terrorist, it was willing to reveal the complexity, richness, and emotions of Palestinian lives. And the occasional brutality of the Israelis. Pretty controversial stuff in Israel. Lior Raz plays Doron, the main character, and is compelling and tough and often hard to like. He’s a mess. As is the world in which he has to operate. We really liked it, and also felt guilty because while it may have been brave in its treatment of Palestinians within the Israeli context, it falls back into some tired tropes and ultimately falls short on this front.

    June 11, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Like everyone else, I’m listening to Pusha T drop the mic on Drake. Okay, not really, but do I get some points for even knowing that? We all walk around with songs that immediately bring us back to a time or a place. Songs are time machines. We are coming up on Father’s Day. My own dad passed away on Father’s Day back in 1994 and I remembering dutifully getting through the wake and funeral and being strong throughout. Then, sitting alone in our kitchen, Don Henley’s The End of the Innocence came on and I lost it. When you lose a parent for the first time (most of us have two after all) we lose our innocence and in that passage, we suddenly feel adult in a new way (no matter how old we are), a longing for our own childhood, and a need to forgive and be forgiven. Listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand. As Wordsworth reminds us in In Memoriam, there are seasons to our grief and, all these years later, this song no longer hits me in the gut, but does transport me back with loving memories of my father. I’ll play it Father’s Day.

What I’m reading:

The Fifth Season, by N. K. Jemisin. I am not a reader of fantasy or sci-fi, though I understand they can be powerful vehicles for addressing the very real challenges of the world in which we actually live. I’m not sure I know of a more vivid and gripping illustration of that fact than N. K. Jemisin’s Hugo Award winning novel The Fifth Season, first in her Broken Earth trilogy. It is astounding. It is the fantasy parallel to The Underground Railroad, my favorite recent read, a depiction of subjugation, power, casual violence, and a broken world in which our hero(s) struggle, suffer mightily, and still, somehow, give us hope. It is a tour de force book. How can someone be this good a writer? The first 30 pages pained me (always with this genre, one must learn a new, constructed world, and all of its operating physics and systems of order), and then I could not put it down. I panicked as I neared the end, not wanting to finish the book, and quickly ordered the Obelisk Gate, the second novel in the trilogy, and I can tell you now that I’ll be spending some goodly portion of my weekend in Jemisin’s other world.

What I’m watching:

The NBA Finals and perhaps the best basketball player of this generation. I’ve come to deeply respect LeBron James as a person, a force for social good, and now as an extraordinary player at the peak of his powers. His superhuman play during the NBA playoffs now ranks with the all-time greats, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, MJ, Kobe, and the demi-god that was Bill Russell. That his Cavs lost in a 4-game sweep is no surprise. It was a mediocre team being carried on the wide shoulders of James (and matched against one of the greatest teams ever, the Warriors, and the Harry Potter of basketball, Steph Curry) and, in some strange way, his greatness is amplified by the contrast with the rest of his team. It was a great run.

May 24, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I’ve always liked Alicia Keys and admired her social activism, but I am hooked on her last album Here. This feels like an album finally commensurate with her anger, activism, hope, and grit. More R&B and Hip Hop than is typical for her, I think this album moves into an echelon inhabited by a Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On or Beyonce’s Formation. Social activism and outrage rarely make great novels, but they often fuel great popular music. Here is a terrific example.

What I’m reading:

Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad may be close to a flawless novel. Winner of the 2017 Pulitzer, it chronicles the lives of two runaway slaves, Cora and Caeser, as they try to escape the hell of plantation life in Georgia.  It is an often searing novel and Cora is one of the great heroes of American literature. I would make this mandatory reading in every high school in America, especially in light of the absurd revisionist narratives of “happy and well cared for” slaves. This is a genuinely great novel, one of the best I’ve read, the magical realism and conflating of time periods lifts it to another realm of social commentary, relevance, and a blazing indictment of America’s Original Sin, for which we remain unabsolved.

What I’m watching:

I thought I knew about The Pentagon Papers, but The Post, a real-life political thriller from Steven Spielberg taught me a lot, features some of our greatest actors, and is so timely given the assault on our democratic institutions and with a presidency out of control. It is a reminder that a free and fearless press is a powerful part of our democracy, always among the first targets of despots everywhere. The story revolves around the legendary Post owner and D.C. doyenne, Katharine Graham. I had the opportunity to see her son, Don Graham, right after he saw the film, and he raved about Meryl Streep’s portrayal of his mother. Liked it a lot more than I expected.

April 27, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I mentioned John Prine in a recent post and then on the heels of that mention, he has released a new album, The Tree of Forgiveness, his first new album in ten years. Prine is beloved by other singer songwriters and often praised by the inscrutable God that is Bob Dylan.  Indeed, Prine was frequently said to be the “next Bob Dylan” in the early part of his career, though he instead carved out his own respectable career and voice, if never with the dizzying success of Dylan. The new album reflects a man in his 70s, a cancer survivor, who reflects on life and its end, but with the good humor and empathy that are hallmarks of Prine’s music. “When I Get To Heaven” is a rollicking, fun vision of what comes next and a pure delight. A charming, warm, and often terrific album.

What I’m reading:

I recently read Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, on many people’s Top Ten lists for last year and for good reason. It is sprawling, multi-generational, and based in the world of Japanese occupied Korea and then in the Korean immigrant’s world of Oaska, so our key characters become “tweeners,” accepted in neither world. It’s often unspeakably sad, and yet there is resiliency and love. There is also intimacy, despite the time and geographic span of the novel. It’s breathtakingly good and like all good novels, transporting.

What I’m watching:

I adore Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth, and while I’m not sure his Shape of Water is better, it is a worthy follow up to the earlier masterpiece (and more of a commercial success). Lots of critics dislike the film, but I’m okay with a simple retelling of a Beauty and the Beast love story, as predictable as it might be. The acting is terrific, it is visually stunning, and there are layers of pain as well as social and political commentary (the setting is the US during the Cold War) and, no real spoiler here, the real monsters are humans, the military officer who sees over the captured aquatic creature. It is hauntingly beautiful and its depiction of hatred to those who are different or “other” is painfully resonant with the time in which we live. Put this on your “must see” list.

March 18, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Sitting on a plane for hours (and many more to go; geez, Australia is far away) is a great opportunity to listen to new music and to revisit old favorites. This time, it is Lucy Dacus and her album Historians, the new sophomore release from a 22-year old indie artist that writes with relatable, real-life lyrics. Just on a second listen and while she insists this isn’t a break up record (as we know, 50% of all great songs are break up songs), it is full of loss and pain. Worth the listen so far. For the way back machine, it’s John Prine and In Spite of Ourselves (that title track is one of the great love songs of all time), a collection of duets with some of his “favorite girl singers” as he once described them. I have a crush on Iris Dement (for a really righteously angry song try her Wasteland of the Free), but there is also EmmyLou Harris, the incomparable Dolores Keane, and Lucinda Williams. Very different albums, both wonderful.

What I’m reading:

Jane Mayer’s New Yorker piece on Christopher Steele presents little that is new, but she pulls it together in a terrific and coherent whole that is illuminating and troubling at the same time. Not only for what is happening, but for the complicity of the far right in trying to discredit that which should be setting off alarm bells everywhere. Bob Mueller may be the most important defender of the democracy at this time. A must read.

What I’m watching:

Homeland is killing it this season and is prescient, hauntingly so. Russian election interference, a Bannon-style hate radio demagogue, alienated and gun toting militia types, and a president out of control. It’s fabulous, even if it feels awfully close to the evening news. 

March 8, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We have a family challenge to compile our Top 100 songs. It is painful. Only 100? No more than three songs by one artist? Wait, why is M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” on my list? Should it just be The Clash from whom she samples? Can I admit to guilty pleasure songs? Hey, it’s my list and I can put anything I want on it. So I’m listening to the list while I work and the song playing right now is Tom Petty’s “The Wild One, Forever,” a B-side single that was never a hit and that remains my favorite Petty song. Also, “Evangeline” by Los Lobos. It evokes a night many years ago, with friends at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA, when everyone danced well past 1AM in a hot, sweaty, packed club and the band was a revelation. Maybe the best music night of our lives and a reminder that one’s 100 Favorite Songs list is as much about what you were doing and where you were in your life when those songs were playing as it is about the music. It’s not a list. It’s a soundtrack for this journey.

What I’m reading:

Patricia Lockwood’s Priestdaddy was in the NY Times top ten books of 2017 list and it is easy to see why. Lockwood brings remarkable and often surprising imagery, metaphor, and language to her prose memoir and it actually threw me off at first. It then all became clear when someone told me she is a poet. The book is laugh aloud funny, which masks (or makes safer anyway) some pretty dark territory. Anyone who grew up Catholic, whether lapsed or not, will resonate with her story. She can’t resist a bawdy anecdote and her family provides some of the most memorable characters possible, especially her father, her sister, and her mother, who I came to adore. Best thing I’ve read in ages.

What I’m watching:

The Florida Project, a profoundly good movie on so many levels. Start with the central character, six-year old (at the time of the filming) Brooklynn Prince, who owns – I mean really owns – the screen. This is pure acting genius and at that age? Astounding. Almost as astounding is Bria Vinaite, who plays her mother. She was discovered on Instagram and had never acted before this role, which she did with just three weeks of acting lessons. She is utterly convincing and the tension between the child’s absolute wonder and joy in the world with her mother’s struggle to provide, to be a mother, is heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once. Willem Dafoe rightly received an Oscar nomination for his supporting role. This is a terrific movie.

February 12, 2018

What I’m listening to:

So, I have a lot of friends of age (I know you’re thinking 40s, but I just turned 60) who are frozen in whatever era of music they enjoyed in college or maybe even in their thirties. There are lots of times when I reach back into the catalog, since music is one of those really powerful and transporting senses that can take you through time (smell is the other one, though often underappreciated for that power). Hell, I just bought a turntable and now spending time in vintage vinyl shops. But I’m trying to take a lesson from Pat, who revels in new music and can as easily talk about North African rap music and the latest National album as Meet the Beatles, her first ever album. So, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy winning Damn. While it may not be the first thing I’ll reach for on a winter night in Maine, by the fire, I was taken with it. It’s layered, political, and weirdly sensitive and misogynist at the same time, and it feels fresh and authentic and smart at the same time, with music that often pulled me from what I was doing. In short, everything music should do. I’m not a bit cooler for listening to Damn, but when I followed it with Steely Dan, I felt like I was listening to Lawrence Welk. A good sign, I think.

What I’m reading:

I am reading Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Leonardo da Vinci. I’m not usually a reader of biographies, but I’ve always been taken with Leonardo. Isaacson does not disappoint (does he ever?), and his subject is at once more human and accessible and more awe-inspiring in Isaacson’s capable hands. Gay, left-handed, vegetarian, incapable of finishing things, a wonderful conversationalist, kind, and perhaps the most relentlessly curious human being who has ever lived. Like his biographies of Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, Isaacson’s project here is to show that genius lives at the intersection of science and art, of rationality and creativity. Highly recommend it.

What I’m watching:

We watched the This Is Us post-Super Bowl episode, the one where Jack finally buys the farm. I really want to hate this show. It is melodramatic and manipulative, with characters that mostly never change or grow, and it hooks me every damn time we watch it. The episode last Sunday was a tear jerker, a double whammy intended to render into a blubbering, tissue-crumbling pathetic mess anyone who has lost a parent or who is a parent. Sterling K. Brown, Ron Cephas Jones, the surprising Mandy Moore, and Milo Ventimiglia are hard not to love and last season’s episode that had only Brown and Cephas going to Memphis was the show at its best (they are by far the two best actors). Last week was the show at its best worst. In other words, I want to hate it, but I love it. If you haven’t seen it, don’t binge watch it. You’ll need therapy and insulin.

January 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Drive-By Truckers. Chris Stapleton has me on an unusual (for me) country theme and I discovered these guys to my great delight. They’ve been around, with some 11 albums, but the newest one is fascinating. It’s a deep dive into Southern alienation and the white working-class world often associated with our current president. I admire the willingness to lay bare, in kick ass rock songs, the complexities and pain at work among people we too quickly place into overly simple categories. These guys are brave, bold, and thoughtful as hell, while producing songs I didn’t expect to like, but that I keep playing. And they are coming to NH.

What I’m reading:

A textual analog to Drive-By Truckers by Chris Stapleton in many ways is Tony Horowitz’s 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning Confederates in the Attic. Ostensibly about the Civil War and the South’s ongoing attachment to it, it is prescient and speaks eloquently to the times in which we live (where every southern state but Virginia voted for President Trump). Often hilarious, it too surfaces complexities and nuance that escape a more recent, and widely acclaimed, book like Hillbilly Elegy. As a Civil War fan, it was also astonishing in many instances, especially when it blows apart long-held “truths” about the war, such as the degree to which Sherman burned down the south (he did not). Like D-B Truckers, Horowitz loves the South and the people he encounters, even as he grapples with its myths of victimhood and exceptionalism (and racism, which may be no more than the racism in the north, but of a different kind). Everyone should read this book and I’m embarrassed I’m so late to it.

What I’m watching:

David Letterman has a new Netflix show called “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” and we watched the first episode, in which Letterman interviewed Barack Obama. It was extraordinary (if you don’t have Netflix, get it just to watch this show); not only because we were reminded of Obama’s smarts, grace, and humanity (and humor), but because we saw a side of Letterman we didn’t know existed. His personal reflections on Selma were raw and powerful, almost painful. He will do five more episodes with “extraordinary individuals” and if they are anything like the first, this might be the very best work of his career and one of the best things on television.

December 22, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished Sunjeev Sahota’s Year of the Runaways, a painful inside look at the plight of illegal Indian immigrant workers in Britain. It was shortlisted for 2015 Man Booker Prize and its transporting, often to a dark and painful universe, and it is impossible not to think about the American version of this story and the terrible way we treat the undocumented in our own country, especially now.

What I’m watching:

Season II of The Crown is even better than Season I. Elizabeth’s character is becoming more three-dimensional, the modern world is catching up with tradition-bound Britain, and Cold War politics offer more context and tension than we saw in Season I. Claire Foy, in her last season, is just terrific – one arched eye brow can send a message.

What I’m listening to:

A lot of Christmas music, but needing a break from the schmaltz, I’ve discovered Over the Rhine and their Christmas album, Snow Angels. God, these guys are good.

  November 14, 2017

What I’m watching:

Guiltily, I watch the Patriots play every weekend, often building my schedule and plans around seeing the game. Why the guilt? I don’t know how morally defensible is football anymore, as we now know the severe damage it does to the players. We can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore. Is this our version of late decadent Rome, watching mostly young Black men take a terrible toll on each other for our mere entertainment?

What I’m reading:

Recently finished J.G. Ballard’s 2000 novel Super-Cannes, a powerful depiction of a corporate-tech ex-pat community taken over by a kind of psychopathology, in which all social norms and responsibilities are surrendered to residents of the new world community. Kept thinking about Silicon Valley when reading it. Pretty dark, dystopian view of the modern world and centered around a mass killing, troublingly prescient.

What I’m listening to:

Was never really a Lorde fan, only knowing her catchy (and smarter than you might first guess) pop hit “Royals” from her debut album. But her new album, Melodrama, is terrific and it doesn’t feel quite right to call this “pop.” There is something way more substantial going on with Lorde and I can see why many critics put this album at the top of their Best in 2017 list. Count me in as a huge fan.

  November 3, 2017

What I’m reading: Just finished Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, her breathtakingly good second novel. How is someone so young so wise? Her writing is near perfection and I read the book in two days, setting my alarm for 4:30AM so I could finish it before work.

What I’m watching: We just binge watched season two of Stranger Things and it was worth it just to watch Millie Bobbie Brown, the transcendent young actor who plays Eleven. The series is a delightful mash up of every great eighties horror genre you can imagine and while pretty dark, an absolute joy to watch.

What I’m listening to: I’m not a lover of country music (to say the least), but I love Chris Stapleton. His “The Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning” is heartbreakingly good and reminds me of the old school country that played in my house as a kid. He has a new album and I can’t wait, but his From A Room: Volume 1 is on repeat for now.

  September 26, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished George Saunder’s Lincoln in the Bardo. It took me a while to accept its cadence and sheer weirdness, but loved it in the end. A painful meditation on loss and grief, and a genuinely beautiful exploration of the intersection of life and death, the difficulty of letting go of what was, good and bad, and what never came to be.

What I’m watching:

HBO’s The Deuce. Times Square and the beginning of the porn industry in the 1970s, the setting made me wonder if this was really something I’d want to see. But David Simon is the writer and I’d read a menu if he wrote it. It does not disappoint so far and there is nothing prurient about it.

What I’m listening to:

The National’s new album Sleep Well Beast. I love this band. The opening piano notes of the first song, “Nobody Else Will Be There,” seize me & I’m reminded that no one else in music today matches their arrangement & musicianship. I’m adding “Born to Beg,” “Slow Show,” “I Need My Girl,” and “Runaway” to my list of favorite love songs.

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