#mike merrill

[blackmensuited]

[magicpotiondaily]

NAACP Image Awards 2023 - fave looks ♥️

~ Elarica Johnson, Ivy-Victoria Maurice, Kennedy Stephens, Quinta Brunson, Psalms Salazar, Patrick Oyeku, Kenya Moore, Melissa L. Williams, Method Man, Marcus Scribner, Mike Merrill, Jermelle Simon, Lil Rel Howery, Janelle Monáe, Blac Chyna, Dominique Thorne, Jimmy Jean-Louis, Gabrielle Union, Shannon Thornton, Kevin Fredericks, Marsai Martin, Kevan Hall, Janelle James, Zendaya, Jerrie Johnson, Kerry Washington, Terrence Howard, Jabari Banks, Kim Lewis, Coco Jones, Solea Pfeiffer, Dannella Lane, Dwyane Wade, Miranda Pak, Regina Hall, Louis Carr

[hiphopvibe1]

Tyler Perry to direct Netflix drama, "Straw," starring Taraji P. Henson

Tyler Perry to direct Netflix drama, “Straw,” starring Taraji P Henson Continue reading Tyler Perry to direct Netflix drama, “Straw,” starring Taraji P. Henson

[politicaldilfs]

2024 Gubernatorial DILFs

1st: Incumbent Renominated Gubernatorial DILFS -- Phil Scott, Greg Gianforte, Spencer Cox

Scott and Gianforte are the cream of the crop. Cox is just barely daddy-ish for me. Although, he's anti-Trump which helps. Still, he doesn't hold a candle to his opponent, Brian King:

If we were voting on looks alone, mine would go: Scott, Gianforte, and King.

2nd: Retiring/Term-Limited Incumbent Gubernatorial DILFs

Jay Inslee, Chris Sununu, Doug Burgum, Jim Justice, Eric Holcomb, John Carney, Mike Parson, Roy Cooper

And finally, the remaining DILFs in the 2024 U.S. gubernatorial elections:

North Dakota -- Kelly Armstrong < Merrill Piepkorn

Washington -- Bob Ferguson < Dave Reichert

Delaware -- Matt Meyer > Michael Ramone

West Virginia -- Patrick Morrisey < Steve Williams

And the remaining DILF candidates:

Josh Stein, Mike Kehoe, Mike Braun

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

why does no one ever talk about how rapey the lis2 villains are

[thedaily-beer]

Conshohocken Brewing Mike & Merrill Philly Special Hazy IPA (Picked up at McCaffrey's in Blue Bell, PA). A 3 of 4. Tropical fruit and orange citrus are dominant, and this is clean, simple, and good. Not all that hazy and decently bitter in the finish.

[anon55mystery]

🤛Stand With Animation🤜

LET'S WORK TOGETHER & STOP THEM FROM ERASING OUR AND TODAY'S CHILDHOOD!!!!!

THE ANIMATED SHOWS OF THE 90'S CARTOON NETWORK (The all I could find at least)

The PowerPuff Girls (Craig McCracken)

Dexter's Labotory (Genndy Tartakovsky)

The Moxy Show (Scott Fellows)

Cow and Chicken & I Am Weasel (David Feiss)

Ed, Edd N Eddy (Danny Antonucci)

Space Ghost Coast To Coast (Mike Lazzo, Khaki Jones and Andy Merrill)

Courage the Cowardly Dog (John Dilworth)

90's/ 2000's/ 2010's to 2020's

DON'T LET WBD AND DAVID ZASLAV KEEP REMOVING OUR CHILDHOOD AND TODAY'S CHILDHOOD GENERATION!!! THESE CREATORS DIDN'T NEED AN AI TO MAKE THEIR ANIMATED SHOWS, THEY MADE THEIR SHOWS FUN IN THEIR OWN WAY!!!

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 14: Light 'Em Up

Chapter Fourteen.

So bright, the flames burned in our hearts, That we found each other in the dark, Black beast, out in the wilderness, We are fighting to survive and convalesce, But we're gonna live, we're gonna live, at last, Then I heard the church bells from afar, But we found each other in the dark

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 5,726

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of injuries, fluff, Protective!Hopper here for duty, the death of dart that i am still not over, attempted suicide in the absolute most minimal way i promise (you'll understand when you read it i promise, everyone is good everything is fine i just don't know how else to label it), i am now totally unsure which one is the bigger idiot.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, no use of y/n, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Chapter Fourteen: Light 'Em Up

The tires of the blue Camero groaned in discontent, screeching as the car finally came to a stop with half of Merrill’s pumpkin sign still attached to it.

Steve had progressively become more awake, and also more panicked during the ride, and despite the pain you’d be in any time you had to brace during Max’s overzealous drive, you couldn’t deny the fact that had any of the boys driven, you probably wouldn’t have made it out of the Byers’ driveway.

“Told you. Zoomer.” Max told them proudly before pushing open her door and allowing Mike to climb out, followed by Dustin as you and Steve were left to clamber — or in Steve’s case, fall — out of the too-small backseats.

You made your way around to the trunk, grabbing goggles as the kids tied their bandannas around their faces. You didn’t have much time to look for real supplies, and you just prayed that what you had would suffice.

Either way, it would have to do.

Steve groaned as he pulled himself up from the floor where he’d all but rolled to, his face beaten and swollen slightly as he stumbled for a moment whilst he tried to get his bearings.

“No… Guys. Hey, where do you think you’re going?” He questioned Mike as the younger boy strolled right past him, can of gasoline in hand, “What are you, deaf? Hello? We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear. There is no chance we’re going to the hole, all right?”

You passed Steve, too focused on the task at hand to bother yourself with his dramatics, and instead handed Mike a rope as the older boy continued to emphasize his argument. Walking back around to the trunk to grab your own gear, Steve’s hand shot out, the boy stumbling a little as he held on to you.

“This ends now!”

Shrugging his hand off, you sent him a sharp glare whilst Dustin finally responded, “Steve, you’re upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.”

Dustin stormed off, making his way toward the group as they began to lower items into the hole whilst Steve stood — still a little dazed — and inhaled deeply. You could tell he was frustrated, but at least he wasn’t yelling about it anymore.

“He’s not wrong.”

“You too? I thought we were on the same side here.” Steve sighed, his tired eyes roaming over your face. The boy had perfected the kicked puppy dog look.

Biting your bottom lip, you moved closer to the boy and placed your hand on his arm that was leaning against the open car door, “We are on the same side, okay? Look, these kids are gonna go down there whether we go with them or not. If you need to stay up here, that’s fine. I get it. But I’m not letting them go down there alone, especially not with those things running around.”

Steve sighed, tightly squeezing his eyes closed, “We said we’d keep them safe…”

Your hand moved from Steve’s forearm, hovering over his bruised knuckles for just a second before gently squeezing his hand, causing the boy’s eyes to pop open almost comically, “So let's keep them safe. You got this, Steve. We got this.”

Your left hand grabbed a backpack from the trunk containing a bandanna, goggles and Steve’s trusty nailed bat. You held it out to him with bated breath, waiting for his decision. After the relentless attack from Billy, you wouldn’t blame him if he decided he needed a time-out. Your own head was throbbing, you couldn’t begin to imagine how his felt.

Nor could you ignore the relief that flooded your bones when he took the bag from you, a simple nod from the boy before you began to pull on your own gear.

In usual Steve fashion, the boy demanded he go first into the hole to check it out and make sure there wasn’t a pack of hungry Demo-dogs waiting underneath for you all to drop directly into their open mouths.

“Holy shit,” Steve gazed around the tunnel as the rest of you dropped down, Mike pulling out a map before setting off in the direction he believed would lead you all to the hive mind.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey. I don’t think so. Any of you little shits die down here, we’re getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?” Steve grumbled, pushing past Mike, “From here on out, I’m leading the way. Come on, let's go.”

You all began to follow him, no questions asked as Steve led the group and you brought up the rear. By the time you were deep enough into the tunnels, you were ready to throw your flashlight at him. A little hustle this, and c’mon, pick up the pace that.

You’d almost forgotten that he was captain of both the basketball team and the swim team and was more than comfortable ordering people around.

Vines wrapped their way along the long floors, keeping you conscious of where you were stepping, as if they might leap out at you any second and dangle you upside down, and the particles of something floating in the air made you cautious that maybe the bandannas you all wore were not enough to keep your respiratory system safe and working.

You felt like your head was turning every few seconds, paranoia from the Demo-dogs, as well as uncharted tunnels, making you feel on edge and Dustin’s sudden screaming really didn’t discourage that.

Rushing toward the boy as he fell to the ground, his shouts desperate enough to rattle your bones, you grabbed at him as he flinched away, unaware of your presence until you managed to get him to look at you, the boy calling for his friends as the group quickly returned.

Slipping from your grasp as he continued to flail about, the group surrounded him, “What happened?”

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!”

He began to hack up a cough as you pulled down your bandanna, trying to catch Dustin’s attention as you called his name, pulling his face into your hands, all but forcing the boy to look up at you,

“Dustin, relax!”

Gulping in a large breath of air, the boy finally settled, his blue eyes peering into yours, “I’m okay…”

“You serious?”

“Very funny, man. Nice. Very nice.”

The group continued on, murmuring under their breath as you helped pick the boy back up, a possibly too-hard whack to the back of his cap to send him on his way after you pulled up your own bandanna once more.

This was going to be a long night.

“Alright, Wheeler,” Steve sighed, flashlight pointed at the crossroad of tunnels surrounding you, “I think we found your hub.”

“Let’s drench it.”

And so you got to work, covering the walls and surrounding tunnel entrances in gasoline. Turning toward Steve, who was busy pouring out his own canister, you pulled your bandanna down once more,

“Are you sure you won’t, like… light up like a Christmas tree?”

Steve’s brow cocked, the only hint that he was silently questioning you.

“You know, with all that hairspray, are you sure you’re not flammable?”

Despite not being able to see his facial features, you felt it in your soul when Steve was glaring at you, causing a smirk to pull one side of your mouth upward.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the boy’s monotonous tone only caused your smile to broaden as he moved closer toward you, the tips of his sneakers knocking your own slightly as he reached forward with his free hand, rubber glove gently gripping the bandanna that now loosely hung around your neck and pulling it back over your nose, “And stop pulling this down. We don’t know what’s floating around down here.”

Rolling your eyes, you secured the cloth a little tighter around your face and wondered how ridiculous you all looked.

“You guys ready?” Steve asked once you were all standing at the entrance to the tunnel you came from.

“Light her up,” Dustin confirmed as Steve pulled out his lighter.

You felt his dark eyes peering up at you from where he knelt on the floor, “We are in such deep shit.”

You placed a hand over Max’s shoulder, pushing the girl in front of you as the tunnels lit up, an unbearable and unforgiving heat beating across your face as you watched the vines along the floor begin to dance along the embers. Everything really was connected, and you could only hope this didn’t hurt Will more than it had to.

“C’mon, go!” Steve pulled you along by the wrist, only letting go once he was certain your feet would follow, as he pushed his way to lead the group once more, “This way!”

Unfortunately for you, you were running just behind Mike when he took a tumble — a thick vine wrapping around his ankle and slowly dragging him across the floor — causing you to trip right over him, your own ankle rolling under your weight as you failed to catch yourself on the sharp walls of the tunnel.

Mike’s screaming caught the attention of the group as you tried to drag yourself toward the thick vine, unable to untangle it as it fought against you, only tightening its grip on the boy. Despite struggling to pull off your backpack, you finally managed to pull the ax that you were yet to return to Mrs. Byers and hobbled to your feet, balancing on your one good foot as you swung at the vine, cursing as you lost your balance and tumbled toward the wall.

A shrill screech seemed to emit from the vines as they curled up, releasing the boy's ankle as Steve’s bat connected with it once, twice, three times.

Lucas and Dustin pulled Mike up, a tight grip on their friend as they checked him over whilst Steve turned to you, eyes wide even under his goggles as he looked from your face to your ankle, and back again, noting your flamingo-like posture,

“You good?”

Before you could respond, a growl from behind the group stopped you all in your tracks.

A Demo-dog stood on all fours, large mouth opening, and closing as it continued its inhuman noises. Dustin watched for a moment, head cocked slightly to the right.

“Dart.”

When the monster didn’t immediately attack, seemingly checking out the boy in front of him — friend or foe? Possibly even snack — Dustin stepped forward, despite everyone pleading for him to stay where he was.

“Shh, stop. Trust me, please.”

Dustin remained eerily calm as he slowly approached the dog, the monster taking a few cautionary steps closer too, meeting him near the middle of the tunnel.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s your friend, it’s Dustin,” the boy pulled down his bandanna before lifting his goggles in hopes the monster would recognize him, “It’s Dustin, all right? You remember me? Will you let us pass?”

The monster snarled at him, revealing far too many sharp teeth for your liking, but remained in place. If it wanted to, it easily could’ve ripped Dustin apart by now. You knew that as well as the boy did. But this… thing, something about this one was different. Maybe it really was Dart, and maybe, he and Dustin had formed some kind of weird, fucked up human/alternate-dimensional-creature bond in the few days it had taken Dart to sprout four legs and a mouth full of teeth.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchey thing to do. You hungry? Yeah?” Dustin reached into his backpack, pulling out what looked like a Three Musketeers bar, “I’ve got our favorite, see? Nougat.”

As Dustin opened the wrapper, the creature slowly padded toward him, much like a family dog might’ve. Once Dart began to eat, Dustin shooed the rest of you through, Steve holding you up as you hobbled alongside him.

Once everyone had passed, Dustin stood, pulling down his goggles as he moved past to follow the group, turning around as Dart did the same, “Goodbye, buddy.”

As your group rushed back looking for where the rope to safety dangled, leading back up to the surface, the whole tunnel system seemed to shift, rumbling and sending you all in different directions.

“What was that?” Max asked, turning in the direction of… roaring?

“They’re coming. Run! Run!”

Steve lifted Max up first, the girl pulling herself up the rope with no problem, quickly followed by Lucas and then Mike. Dustin was halfway up the rope, clutching to his friend's hands when you saw the first shadow of a Demo-dog on the wall.

“Harrington,” you swallowed, heart pounding against your rib cage, eyes beginning to water as you realized your fate.

“I know, I know…” Steve panicked, gripping his bat in his hands as he shouldered Dustin a little further up, “Go, c’mon, get up-”

You both knew you didn’t have enough time for the two of you to get back out to safety and somehow, Steve had continuously surprised you in these life-and-death situations — especially when it was between his life and your death — constantly putting his safety on the line. Back last year with the Demogorgon, hell, even earlier that evening at the Junkyard.

This time… This time, it was your turn.

“We’re not gonna both make it up there in time. You need to go.”

His head swiveled around so quickly, you were sure he almost gave himself whiplash, but you didn’t give him enough time to disagree as you rearranged the ax in your grip, holding it high and standing your ground despite your shaking hands, “I’m not gonna get up there quickly, it’s pointless. Just go. Please.”

Ignoring the crack of your voice, and the shouting from the kids above you, Steve shook his head, eyes darting between yourself and the incoming monsters, their roaring getting closer and closer, “No, I-”

“Go, Steve!”

“Not without you.”

Snapping your own head toward the boy, you both stood silently as the few seconds that passed felt like hours, before finally accepting your fate.

The kids would be safe. But you were doing this. You and Steve would foolishly take on a pack of Demo-dogs.

Despite Steve’s eyes flicking back to the tunnel, yours remained on him as you tried to swallow down the fear that was crawling up your throat, clutching at your vocal cords and making it impossible to speak.

The first Demo-dog rushed around the corner, but you barely saw a flash of it as you were suddenly spinning around, Steve’s chest colliding with your back as he gripped you with one hand, turning your body behind his.

When the pained cries and shouting and screaming didn’t come, your eyes peeled open, watching as the dogs ran straight past you, entering a different tunnel and paying both you and Steve no mind.

Once the echoes of their rushed feet had disappeared, the tunnel remained silent, even the kids above were in shocked silence. Blood rushed in your ears, as your body shook, the ax falling from your grip and landing by your feet.

Steve’s labored breaths pushed his chest into your back repeatedly, and you weren’t quite sure if it was your heartbeat or his that you could feel.

His grip remained tight around your waist, rubber gloved fingers digging into your skin a little too tightly to be reassuring, yet you still leaned your weight against him, head bent backward at a mildly uncomfortably angle as you pulled down your bandanna and caught your breath, trying to work out if you were actually still alive.

It was only when he tilted his own head down, resting his chin on your shoulder that you flinched away — his panting a little too loud in your ear — the previous pain from earlier that evening finally ebbing its way back now that the adrenaline was finally dissipating from your veins.

��Eleven,” Mike shouted down, “She’s doing it, she’s closing the gate. Get out of there, now.”

Neither of you needed to be told twice, and once Steve had awkwardly lifted you halfway up the rope, allowing you to place your weight onto his shoulder as the other kids had helped you crawl out of the hole, he quickly followed after you just in time to watch the headlights beam on Billy’s car, momentarily blinding you all.

And, just as it had seemed last year…

It was over.

Steve had managed to drive to Hopper’s cabin thanks to your directions as the kids huddled in the backseat. Nobody uttered a word, and the car radio remained off the entire drive. The only words you spoke were a mumbled thank you as he assisted you out of the car, tucking your arm over his shoulders, his own hand wrapping back around your waist as he helped you slowly hobble toward the cabin.

You could only pray that whatever had its hold over Will was gone, leaving the boy unscathed and that Eleven and Hopper were alive and safe.

Thankfully, you’d spotted Hopper’s Chevvy hidden where he usually parked it between the trees and found yourself all but rushing toward the safety of the cabin.

The commotion from the kids must have alerted everyone to your appearance as the group, bar Will and Eleven, stepped out onto the porch, eyebrows pinched together, confused at your sudden appearance. The plan was for you to stay at the Byers and wait. It was clear to everyone that somehow, for some reason, that plan had changed.

You felt a whimper force its way out of your lips before you even recognized the sound as your own when you caught Hopper’s gaze, the man pushing through the small crowd outside the front door, his long legs reaching you quickly.

Steve released you from his grip as soon as the larger man approached, brows still furrowed on his face as he pulled you into a tight hug,

“What the hell happened to you guys?”

It took Steve a second to realize that Hopper’s attention was now directed toward him, his dark blue eyes taking in his bruised face.

“Uh, something came up. We… We couldn’t stay at the Byers. I know we said… I promised we’d look after the kids, but-”

“Can we talk about it later?” You sighed, hoping Hopper would take pity on your tired eyes and pained limp, “Eleven and Will… are they okay?”

Hopper helped you up the porch steps, a sweet smile sent Joyce’s way as she took your face between her warm palms and placed a kiss on your forehead, “They’re fine. Exhausted but… Alive. Safe.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, the ability to finally inhale deeply causing your vision to blur a little. The plan had worked, and most of you had survived. Mike had already made his way into the cabin, grabbing at both Eleven and Will and pulling them into a tight hug, quickly followed by the rest of the kids, bar Max who hung back a little.

Joyce, however, moved her attention to the young girl, pulling her into a motherly hug, “Whatever you kids did tonight… Thank you.”

“Can we, uh… Clean up a little?” you turned toward Hopper, nodding toward the bathroom, knowing there was a first aid kit stashed in the medicine cabinet.

Hopper’s gaze switched between you and Steve before sending the latter a slight glare, despite his nod, “Head on through, do you want me to-”

“It’s fine, Hop. We won’t be long,” you sighed, trying to put as little weight onto your ankle as possible as you shuffled Steve into the too-small bathroom.

Once the folding door was shut, shutting out the quiet mumbles from the group, you let out a long, exasperated sigh, leaning on the door whilst Steve was already looking through the cabinet, pulling out the small box.

“Do you want to-”

“No, no… You sit down, I don’t think that ankle is gonna handle any more pressure on it tonight.” Steve interrupted, motioning for you to sit on the closed toilet as he nosed through the first aid supplies.

Finding some ointment for bruising and a clean cloth, Steve ran the tap until the water was warm, ringing out the excess water before standing in front of you, hesitating.

“Do you, uh-”

“I can’t exactly see the back of my head, Harrington.”

Nodding, Steve placed the cloth against the back of your head, a mumbled apology falling from his lips when you hissed in pain.

“Billy, he uh… He didn’t-”

“Billy didn’t touch me,” you sighed, “not really, anyway. Shoved me away from Lucas and I hit my head on the counter.”

An unintelligible grumble fell from Steve’s lips, his eyebrows almost connecting as he frowned, only deepening as you continued to speak, “I must say though, Harrington. I’m pleasantly surprised. You got in, what? At least three hits before-”

“Before he blindsided me by hitting me in the head with a plate?” Steve huffed, pulling away the cloth and rinsing it when he found only dried blood. He took a second to look over the wound, unsure as to what he was really even looking for.

“I mean, it’s Billy. Do you really expect him to play fair?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Steve groaned slightly as he bent down, resting on his knees as he lifted your ankle. After taking off your sneakers and socks, then rolling up your jeans a little, he turned your ankle cautiously as he inspected it. The skin had already begun to swell, and a deep red bruise was blossoming along the outer side of your heel,

“You really need to ice and rest this,” Steve placed the cold cloth against the skin and held it there, continuing to scrutinize your injury.

A small huff fell from your lips as you sent the top of his head a smirk, “Where did you get your Ph.D. from again?”

“I play sports,” Steve’s eyes met yours, an annoyed, but innocuous glare settling across his face as he peered up at you, “I’ve rolled my ankle enough times in Basketball to know how to deal with it.”

A high, mocking tune rumbled in your throat as you cocked a brow, “My bad, Harrington. Didn’t know you liked to play Doctors and Nurses in your spare time.”

“Why do you do that?” He interrupted thumb subconsciously grazing the part of your skin that the cloth didn’t reach.

Your face scrunched slightly, feeling a little too defensive already, “Do what?”

His shoulders slumped as a long sigh escaped his nose, but his eyes remained focused on you, “You know, I think tonight, when you were convincing me to follow those little assholes into the pits of Hell… I think that was the first time I’ve heard you actually call me by my name.”

“I call you it all the time-”

“No,” he interrupted once more, the line between his brows emerging once again as he tried to stress his point, “You call me Harrington all the time. Normally with a glare, but still…”

You remained silent for a moment, wondering if you did, indeed, do that, “Does it matter?”

“I mean, it makes you sound like you’re always mad at me-”

“I am normally mad at you,” you joked, but your smile slipped from your face just as quickly as it had appeared when his expression didn’t change, “I don’t know why I do it, alright? I do it to everyone, I guess…”

“I just…” Steve sighed, the hand that was holding the cloth to your ankle moved to push his hair back from his forehead before quickly reattaching itself to you, as if he needed to anchor himself to something to get his thoughts out, “I like it when you call me Steve. Makes me feel like we’re, you know… Friends.”

You watched as he shrugged, his throat bobbing as he tore his eyes away from you in what you could only assume was embarrassment.

Because even after everything you went through together almost a year ago, even after he saved your life… you weren’t friends. But now?

“Seems like the universe is trying to tell us something.”

Steve’s eyes returned to yours, confusion etched on his face as you sighed and sat up straighter, your body a little closer to him, “We are friends. I mean, you saved my life twice in one year. It would be kinda rude not to be, right?”

A small puff of air forced itself from his chest as he sent you a small smile, “Third time’s the charm,”

“Oh my god, why would you even say that?” You laughed back, mouth agape in faux offense, “But, I suppose I could… try and reserve last names for when I’m actually mad-”

“It would save me a lot of confusion.”

You shared a small, almost silent laugh, his eyes boring into you, seeming much darker in Hopper's dodgy bathroom lightening, Steve’s thumb still subconsciously skimming over your ankle as you both reveled in the quiet, the voices in the lounge were low and muffled slightly, so when the folding door was swiftly yanked open, nearly sending the boy into your lap, you both jumped out of your skin, your wide eyes narrowing into a glower as you stared down the man on the other side of the door,

“You kids need some help in here? Been long enough I thought you’d got lost.”

Rolling your eyes, you settled back against the tank of the toilet with a sigh, “Waiting times in the ER are outrageous. I’ll tell my doctor to hurry it up.”

Steve cleared his throat, discomfort written on his face as he sent Hopper an almost pained smile, unable to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds, “Almost done. Promise.”

You watched Hopper as he watched Steve — the boy suddenly finding the bare wooden floorboards beneath him a little too fascinating — his eyes flitting to you for just a moment before settling back on the boy, “Yeah, well, speed it up, alright? I need to take a leak.”

“Hop,” you heard Joyce warn, pulling the man’s attention for just a moment. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as if he were deep in thought, before he finally conceded, pulling the door across once more, but not shutting it fully.

Steve quickly poured the Arnica ointment onto some toilet paper before gently dabbing it onto your ankle, brows furrowed in concentration “We really should speed things up.”

“Ignore him. He’s just… weird.”

Steve sent you a quirked brow, all too aware that you didn’t bother to lower your voice and that the possibility of Hopper hearing you was high.

“You’re pretty close, huh?”

“He, uh… He dated my Mom. Hung around for a while and never really left, even when they broke up.”

“That’s nice.”

Shrugging, you peered through the gap in the door, eyes finding the man across the room talking quietly with Joyce for a moment before disappearing from your obstructed view, “I guess so. I don’t really see eye to eye with my Mom. I mean, I know what people say about her, about my family, but Hopper, he just… He never cared about all that stuff. I, uh… I cried myself to sleep the night they broke up. I mean, I’d seen guys come and go for years, I was used to it, and I just kind of thought he’d disappear like everyone else. Cross the street when he saw me, duck his head when he saw me in the same aisle at Big Buy… But he just… didn’t, you know? It wouldn’t have ever lasted with my Mom, but he’s been there for me more than anyone. Especially my own dad. I owe him a lot.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way.”

Steve’s comment caught you off-guard slightly. You’d heard all the gross accusations that high schoolers had thrown your way. That Hopper had left your mother for you, that he was your real dad and everything in between. You had thought for so long that he had simply hung around because he felt guilty. Then, you’d heard that he had a daughter, Sara, who had passed away in New York, and you thought that maybe his protectiveness over you was down to grief. That he was trying to make you fit into a Sara-shaped hole.

But Hopper, despite all of his flaws — and he had plenty — was simply a good man.

Sending your sudden tension, Steve scrambled to continue, “I mean, I don’t think he thinks you owe him anything. He seems like a decent guy-”

“He is,” you cut Steve off. Your chest felt heavy and tight as if your body was desperate for the conversation to finish before you burst into tears and embarrassed the both of you.

“All done,” Steve smiled, placing the toilet paper into the sink to be flushed later. He placed your ankle gently on the floor after rolling back down your pant leg and pulling on your sock, “I wouldn’t even try the sneakers, but you do need to ice it.”

Holding out a hand, Steve pulled you up, your bodies a little too close in the cramped bathroom, “We should-”

“Sit your ass down, Steve,” you wanted to pat yourself on the back for remembering, “It’s your turn.”

Eventually, you and Steve emerged from the bathroom, one arm slung over his shoulder as he guided you back into the lounge, Hopper quickly moved from where he was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom and took over, walking you back to his armchair whilst Steve quietly argued — and lost — with Joyce as she tried to give up her own chair, eventually reassuring him that she was going to check on Will, who was resting on Hopper’s fold up bed across the room.

When the once cold can of beer pressed against your ankle had warmed to room temperature, and the box of ‘Eggo’s’ Steve had held against his bruised face had turned soggy, the boy finally pushed himself up, clearing his throat, “I, uh… I should get going.”

You’d explained most of your evening to the group, leaving out that Hargrove had been the cause of your own injuries, and Hopper had told Steve that Billy would find himself on the receiving end of a few extra speeding tickets since the former didn’t want to press charges, and by now, everyone was visibly exhausted. It had been a very long weekend.

“Can I catch a ride?” You asked, already pushing yourself up off the armchair to follow.

Steve nodded and extended the offer, eventually driving you, Max, Lucas, and Dustin out of there. He’d have to drop Billy’s car back before anyone became suspicious, but he’d just waved a hand at you when you’d offered to drive the Camero back after picking up his own car, telling you he would simply walk home and collect it from the woods where he’d left it with yourself and Dustin at the beginning of your hunt for Dart.

Despite Hopper offering to stay at his for the night, you declined. You just wanted to crawl into your own bed and not emerge for a couple of days, despite knowing it was the beginning of another school week. So, after Jim had made you promise to radio him if there was any issue, he begrudgingly sent you off into the night with Steve.

The excitement seemed all too much for the kids, each one falling asleep before Steve had even passed back by Merrill’s farm. His voice was gentle as he woke them up, bar when he gave Dustin a shove, the boy snoring obnoxiously loud as he spread out across the backseat, the last to be dropped home.

Once the boy was safely inside his house, Steve sighed and pulled away, ready to make his way to your house. He could've easily dropped you home first and left Max to last, but the both of you remained quiet as he drove past the long, winding road that would've led to your street. His eyes were red-rimmed and heavy, and he cursed each time his hand subconsciously rubbed at them after he'd pulled over outside of your home.

You hesitated for a moment — your hand ready to open the door — unsure of what to say. So instead, you let out a long sigh and turned in the boy’s direction, “Get home safe, okay?”

Steve nodded, “Want me to walk you to the door? You really shouldn’t be putting weight on that-”

“-After everything that’s happened tonight, if I get murdered between this car, and my front door, then so be it,” you joked, a small smile on your face as Steve tiredly returned it.

Steve’s mouth opened, ready to retort, but instead remained hanging wide as you shuffled across the seat, pulling him into an awkward but quick one-armed hug, “Thanks again, Steve. And I’m sorry for, you know… dragging you along to the tunnels.”

Clearing his throat, Steve sent you a firm nod, “No, it’s… I get it, you know? I mean, either way, we kept the kids safe, right?”

“Right…”

“We make a pretty good team,” a puff of laughter fell from Steve’s lips. The irony wasn’t lost on the boy. 12 months ago, Steve wouldn’t have given you the time of day. You both knew that. Hell, you were certain he wouldn’t be able to pick you out from a lineup full of new students that he’d never met, despite the fact Hawkins only had one high school.

“Yeah, I guess we do. Goodnight, Steve.”

You shuffled out of the car ungracefully, and Steve watched with a wince, forcing himself to remain seated as you hobbled your way up the creaky, decayed porch steps and eventually into your home.

Only once you were tucked away safely in your house, bedroom light flicking on a moment later, did Steve finally drive away.

[starsarefire824]

Demons of Change & Wildflower Eyes

They ride in silence for a long while after Mike asks for Will’s address. Mike knows the area, past Hawkin’s lab. It’s near Max’s trailer park. Quiet and dead and poor. Mike doesn’t say anything though. And Will doesn't offer up any other directions, assuming Mike already knows the way. Some old song comes on the radio. A mournful, eerie love song from the fifties or something and Will shivers when Mike rolls down the window. Mike notices as he pulls his sleeves over his hands and gathers the hood around his neck. 

“Are you cold?” Mike asks awkwardly into their suddenly heavy silence. 

Will shakes his head as he looks out the window. “No, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Mike asks again, noticing the way his mouth twitches in discomfort. 

Will looks over at him and a smile spreads across his face. Something soft and sweet and used to hiding sadness. 

“Yeah,” he says again. “I’m fine.” 

Mike works his jaw and turns his attention back towards the double lined country road. He spots an old, familiar barn in the distance. They are coming up on old Merril’s farm. He can smell the sickly sweet stench of cow shit in the breeze. 

He watches the breeze blow the dead tips of corn left unharvested for cattle feed. They are no longer green and lush, but brown and dry and whispering to them in the wind. 

Mike pulls over quickly, dust flying up on the edge of the road as he rolls into the shoulder. 

Will grabs onto the handle of the car. “What are you doing?” he asks urgently, his shoulders gone stiff with alarm. 

Mike shifts his car into park and shrugs off his seat belt and jacket. 

“I have an idea,” he announces with a slight smile, suddenly feeling the need to make the night last longer. To spend a few more moments with this strange boy, on this strange night, the day before Halloween. Maybe there is something in the air. Maybe it’s Hawkins ghosts spurring him on. Maybe it’s Zombie Boy himself. He is a ghost too after all. Will Byers. The queer. The freak. The boy who came back from the dead. 

Troy had lots of conspiracy theories about what happened to him, most of them involving around being kidnapped by some other queer for sexual favors. Says that's what the cops told his dad. Mike isn't sure if he believes any of that, but if Troy only knew they were together. That they had hung out. Well, Mike doesn’t want to think of that right now. He’d be dead. He’d be beaten to a pulp. It’d ruin everything.

Mike shoves the door of his car shut against the thought and stomps over to where the grass meets the cornstalk wall, dirty headlights shining behind him like a spotlight. 

He smiles and turns around. “Come on,” he says, waving Will forward. 

Will is still standing next to the car, hands in his pockets and wearing a leery expression. He guesses that's fair enough.

“Come on!” Mike urges again, feeling desperate to coax Will out of whatever cocoon he’s woven around himself. 

“Mike—“ Will sighs with a nervous smile, looking down the road as if expecting something. “What are you doing?” 

Mike’s eyelids flutter and he stuffs his hands in the back pockets of his worn black jeans. “A race,” he announces with a goofy smile. “We’re gonna race.” 

Will ambles around the front of the humming car and snickers as he stands before him. “A race?” He asks, his thick eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You and me,” Mike answers matter of factly. What else would he think? “I dare you.”

Before Will can answer Mike’s already counting down. 

“Three!” Mike crouches slightly.

“Two!” His heart beats in his chest.

“One!” He pushes off! Running head on into the sea of dried corn. Mind blank and the dew already soaking the ankles of his pants.

“Mike!” He hears Will’s voice call out. “Mike—- wait !” 

Mike is vaguely aware that Will is behind him. That he's running too.

“Mike!” He calls again, but Mike can feel Will at his back. He’s gaining on him. And so he pushes forward. 

Runs faster. 

“Come on!” He calls back to Will. “Catch me!” 

Mike squints, ignoring how the corn stalks slice his bare arms, his cheek, and the skin along his ribs.

The light of the car has dimmed and he can’t really see in front of him. There’s nothing but the faded blue light cast from the sliver of moon left in the sky. Mike doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, past midnight on a school night trespassing in a forgotten field with the last person he’d ever expected. Yet he is . And he feels alive for the first time in a very long time, and so he pushes forward. Revels in the way his body shivers at the cold and the dew and the stranger’s fingers tugging at his bicep. 

“Mike!” he hears Will call once more before he’s tumbling, the sea of corn turning around him like a shaken up kaleidoscope. He doesn’t know where he ends and the field begins, like when he was nine years old and got caught in a wave when his family went to the ocean on the East Coast one summer. He’s falling and he’s sure that Will is going with him. They twist and turn, hands gripping for dear life and legs flying over their heads. 

The two of them land in a jumbled heap and Mike cries out in pain when he feels something sharp jab him in the ribs. It could be an elbow, a hand, a rock. He isn’t sure. There is something strong gripping his back, fingers prodding at his shoulder blades.

The air is thrown out of his lungs and his gasps turn into laughter. When he lifts his head he can’t breathe, because Will is beneath him, mouth slackened and lungs heaving in his chest, eyes dark and excited and utterly shocked. His breath is hot upon Mike’s cheek as he breathes.

They’re chest to chest and Mike must be crushing him. His pelvis digs into his and the insides of Will’s thighs brush along the sides Mike’s legs. They’re basically hugging, like two lovers screwing in some sun beaten field in one of the romance movies his mother loves. His laughter dies on his lips.

Mike blinks at Will and sighs out. He watches him open his mouth as if to say something, but can't seem to find the words. Mike feels Will’s nails dig in at his back where he’s clung for dear life as they fell. 

Will looks terrified and Mike feels his body go rigid beneath him.  

“You have a cut,” he finds himself saying, his thumb swiping blood across Will’s full bottom lip. It stains it a deep shade of pink and Will breath quivers as much as his body. 

Mike watches his tongue dart out, licking away the blood and leaving his skin wet with spit. The sight of it pulls at him. Lures him, like some fucking siren in one of the poems he read in English class. He brushes a wavy chestnut tendril back from Will’s eyes and…presses his lips to his. It’s almost nothing at first, featherlight. A barely there touch of their lips. Mike’s heart pounds in his chest and he breathes out as he lets his tongue slide along Will’s lip. He tastes like blood and earth and sweet like maple syrup. Then Mike takes hold of his chin and when he feels Will’s fingers press gently at the back of his neck slides his tongue in his mouth in a blood-sticky, slick, and hungry kiss. 

Will hums underneath him and his thighs press into Mike’s sides, making a sharp, jarring ache stampede through his body and he forgets himself. Forgets who Will is. Who he is. Forgets that this isn’t normal. This isn’t right. But he can’t help it. He feels so good. And Will kisses him back and his hand slides gently down his back. Mike wants to press closer to him, he wants to rock his body against him, he wants to lift up his shirt, undo his pants, and feel his skin, press him harshly into the dirt and make his body shake with his mouth. 

But that doesn’t happen. Instead there’s a firm shove at his chest and he’s falling backwards, rolling roughly on to his back, the smell of damp earth and decaying plants twinging his nostrils. Will sits up, his heavy breathing puffing out in thick clouds and eyes the same color as grass and dirt are frenzied and wild. They sit there frozen and staring at each other for Mike doesn’t know how long. 

Mike rests on his elbows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he mutters, a wave of shame coming over him. You are so fucking stupid. Some kind of nasty faggot. Slut. 

“No,” Will says quietly and Mike peels his eyes away from the ground and forces them to meet Will’s. He’s surprised to find something light tugging at his lips. Almost a smile. 

“Yeah?” Mike sighs, still catching his breath.

Will nods at him and swallows heavily. “Yeah—I mean…I’m just surprised.” 

“You and me both,” Mike says with a cautious smile, wiping his hair back from his face and tucking it behind his ear. 

Will picks at a thread where a patch in his jeans is tearing away. “I should get back though. My mom is probably home from work and freaking out.” 

Mike nods and shoves himself to his feet. He turns to offer a hand to Will. He takes it. 

[dalekofchaos]

Life Is Strange 2 Fancast

LIS fancast

LIS BTS fancast

LIS TC Fancast

Michael Cimino as Sean Diaz

Santiago Segura as Older Sean Diaz

Davi Martins as Daniel Diaz

Hunter Payton Mendoza as Teen Daniel(Parted Ways, Lone Wolf and Blood Brother endings)

Jeff Wahlberg as Adult Daniel Diaz(Redemption ending)

Manny Montana as Esteban Diaz

Elizabeth Yu as Lyla Park

Awkwafina as older Lyla Park

Jeremy Shada as Brett Foster

Graham McTavish as Hank Stamper

Jonah Hill as Brody Holloway

Alley Mills as Claire Reynolds

Alan Dale as Stephen Reynolds

Dean Woodward as Chris Eriksen

Finn Jones as Charles Eriksen

Natalia Dyer as Cassidy/Lucy Rose Jones

Joseph Quinn as Finn McNamara

Devery Jacobs as Hannah Reyome

Alton Mason as Dean Mickael Baptist

Gabriel LaBelle as Jacob Hackerman

Ellie Duckles as Ingrid

Mike Vogel as Anders

Rob Morgan as Merrill

Chris Sullivan as Big Joe

Katherine Heigl as Karen Reynolds

Everleigh Primrose as Sarah Lee Hackerman

Eiza González as Agent Maria Elena Flores

Lance Gross as Joey Peterson

John Goodman as Anton Oates

Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Fischer

Because of tumblr’s new layout with the 30 picture limit, I cannot add more pictures, so here’s the rest.

Brendan Fehr as Nicholas Durand

David Harbour as David Madsen

Ben Affleck as Arthur Peterson

Stanley Tucci as Stanley Petersen

Laura Dern as Joan Marcus

[ozonecologne]

controversial, i know, but signs (2002) is a really good movie.

i really like all the fate and foreshadowing stuff -- how everything happens for a reason and that reason is survival -- but the thing that really gets me about signs is the spiritual stuff. this is all very elementary analysis and has probably been covered ten thousand times.... but "are we alone in the universe" being both a theological and biological question. when graham and merrill emerge from the basement after the invasion, the boarded up door has holes in it in the shapes of stars and moons, invoking that "stars are merely holes poked in the fabric of the heavens through which divine light shines." there IS something on the other side of our world. maybe it's god, but maybe it's aliens. maybe they're one in the same. maybe the existence of one proves the existence of the other. if you believe in aliens, you can believe in god, can't you? that's what graham learns and partially why he returns to the church at the end. we are not alone.

(more so: what lies beyond is VENGEFUL. graham cuts off the fingers of an alien out of fear and it is that alien that returns to his home and takes his child with intent to kill, even after all the other aliens have gone home.)

i'm not sure i can explain this right, but it feels very mike flannagan midnight mass to me. midnight mass is the reverse in some ways: i believe in god and i believe that god is terrifying, and so i will force myself to rationalize whatever i see (monsters) to be an instrument of his will (angels). the emergence of something other than us is NOT divine, it's just a monster, and we're all here together. we are not alone. i wonder if mike flannagan loves signs. i would hazard a guess that he does.

[bylerposting]

what do you mean with the kali thing

Kali + her crew kill that guy on October 28th 1984 - as displayed on the on screen text at the beginning of the episode

The next scene is of Dustin at his house, and the news on television says “A police chase rocked Downtown Pittsburgh earlier this evening” establishing that it is still the evening of October 28th

This means that the next day - which we cut to after Mike+Will go inside the arcade together - should be October 29th.

Except during that day…

When Hopper is investigating the poisoned pumpkins, Merril says to Hopper “This happening the day before Halloween when sales are peaking?”

When the boys are stalking Max, Dustin says to the group “And she shows up at school the day after someone with her same name breaks our top score?”

One implies it’s October 30th. One implies it’s October 29th. Neither of them answer the question.

Not until we get to the footage of Bob filming Joyce making popcorn - where the date reads October 30th. (Bob also says “this is the future” in this scene.)

So it must be October 30th, right? The next episode takes place on Halloween, which is always on the 31st. So it flows right

But what about Dustin’s line? Dustin, who was the character present when they established the October 28th evening at the beginning?

If it was October 29th, why are the boys wearing the same outfit for the entire day?

If this is a simple continuity error, why is there so much talk about Time in this specific episode? I’m typing this on my phone so I can’t get screenshots yet, but watch it and take note of every time a character talks about time. Seriously - there is a lot.

For example: Hopper and Ms. Holland both losing track of time and being late for dinner; “I was going to make that baked ziti you guys liked so much but I just… forgot about the time and before you know it. Oh my god it’s 5:00.”

Joyce saying to Will “I’m going to pick you up in 2 hours. That’s 9:00 on the dot.”

Mike saying “It’s day 352. 7:40 P.M”

Working on a much bigger post where I point out everything and include screenshots but this is the basic gist of things.

[usafphantom2]

F-100 Thunderbird pilot tells the story of when his Super Sabre exploded during the Bomb Burst after the wings came off due to fatigue damage in the wing center box

Developed as a follow-on to the F-86 Sabre used in the Korean War, the F-100 was the world’s first production airplane capable of flying faster than the speed of sound in level flight (760 mph). The prototype — the YF-100A — made its first flight on May 25, 1953, at Edwards Air Force Base, Calif. Of the 2,294 F-100s built before production ended in 1959, 1,274 were Ds, more than all the other series combined. The Super Sabre had its combat debut in Vietnam where it was used extensively as a fighter-bomber in ground-support missions such as attacking bridges, road junctions and troop concentrations.

The US Air Force “Thunderbird Flight Demonstration Team” operated the F-100C from 1956 until 1964, when they made the transition to the F-105. However, problems with the F-105 caused them to change back to the F-100 (D variant) before they completed the 1964 demonstration season.

As told by Ted Spitzmiller in his book Century Series The USAF Quest for air supremacy 1950-1960, one in-flight airframe failure of a Thunderbird F-100D occurred during a performance over Laughlin Air Force Base near Del Rio, Texas, on Oct. 20, 1967. The pilot was future Air Force Chief of Staff Merrill A. “Tony” McPeak, flying #6, a solo position. In his own words (from “Tony McPeak Story”):

“…We approach the climax, the signature Bomb Burst. My job is to put ‘pigtails’ through the separating formation, doing unloaded, Max-rate vertical rolls…. I start the aggressive [6.5-G] pull into the vertical—and the aircraft explodes…. Any F-100 pilot who hears a loud ‘BANG!’ automatically thinks, ‘compressor stall,’ and unloads the jet to get air traveling down the intake in the right direction. … SO INSTINCTIVELY, the explosion causes me to relax stick pressure to unload the airplane… [but—] That’s no compressor stall!!…

F-100 Thunderbird pilot tells the story of when his Super Sabre exploded during the Bomb Burst after the wings came off due to fatigue damage in the wing center box

“In retrospect, the airplane had already unloaded itself, making my remedy superfluous, but there was some pilot lore at work here. No matter what else happens … fly the airplane. Forget all that stuff about lift and drag and thrust and gravity, just fly the damn airplane until the last piece stops moving. Good old 55-3520 has quit flying. But I have not.

“Now there’s fire, and I don’t mean just a little smoke. Flames fill the cockpit. I have to eject. I grab the seat handles and tug them up, firing the canopy and exposing ejection triggers on each side of the handles. I yank the triggers and immediately feel the seat catapult into the slipstream. …”

He lost his helmet in the high-speed bailout, but landed safely – despite a damaged parachute. He talked to Mike Miller, Thunderbirds narrator, who said “maybe we should leave ‘that thing, whatever it is,’ out of the show sequence.”

McPeak: “That’s when I learn I’d pulled the wings off the airplane.

“After I jumped out, my aircraft continued on a ballistic trajectory, scattering parts and equipment along the extended flight path. Most of the engine and the main fuselage section impacted about 2 miles downrange from my initial pull-up spot. All the bits and pieces landed on government soil, and there was no injury or property damage. My aircraft was destroyed—I signed a to hand-receipt for $696,989—but if there is a good kind of accident, this was it. Nobody was hurt, and all the scrap metal was collected for post-game analysis.

F-100 Thunderbird pilot tells the story of when his Super Sabre exploded during the Bomb Burst after the wings came off due to fatigue damage in the wing center box

“The F-100’s wings mate into a box at the center of the fuselage, the strongest part of the airplane. When my aircraft’s wing center box was inspected, it was found to and have failed. North American Rockwell, the manufacturer, tested the box on a bend-and-stretch machine, and it broke again at an equivalent load of 6.5 G for the flight condition I was at when the wings departed.

“Later, specialists discovered considerable fatigue damage in the wing center boxes of other Thunderbird aircraft. USAF immediately put a 4 G limit on the F-100 and initiated a program to run all the aircraft through depot modification to beef up the wing center box. My accident almost certainly saved lives by revealing a serious problem in the F-100 fleet.”

The Thunderbirds performed with the D series from July 1964 until November 1968, when they upgraded to the F-4E Phantom II.

Century Series The USAF Quest for air supremacy 1950-1960 is published by Schiffer Publishing and is available to order here.

F-100F print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. F-100F Super Sabre – Wild Weasel 50th Anniversary, 2015 – 50 Years of YGBSM! 58-1226, 35th TFW, 614th TFS

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force

Dario Leone

Dario Leone is an aviation, defense and military writer. He is the Founder and Editor of “The Aviation Geek Club” one of the world’s most read military aviation blogs. His writing has appeared in The National Interest and other news media. He has reported from Europe and flown Super Puma and Cougar helicopters with the Swiss Air Force.

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

Hazy Shade

by weird_witchcraft

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, The Party (Stranger Things), Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Jim "Chief" Hopper Additional Tags: Stranger Things 2, Season/Series 02, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, What if?, POV Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington Words: 5,071 Chapters: 1/1

Summary

Eddie stumbles into Merrill’s farm late at night on Sunday, November 4th, 1984 and runs into the last person he’d expect to see: Steve Harrington.

[myhauntedsalem]

Pomeraning House Haunting

The story of the Pomeraning house in the small farming town of Saginaw County, Michigan, is not well known, but it definitely should be. Reports of haunting in this home have been reported since the late 1970s but rarely has it been examined as Steve Shippy’s Travel Channel show ‘Haunting in the Heartland’ does. The show features a farmhouse on Dice Road about four miles north of Merrill.

The distraught homeowners sought help after their granddaughter Aidabelle is driven out by some seriously eerie incidents where the spirits seem to be targeting her. Unexplained scratches, black smoke, mysterious footprints and a presence just not allowing her to live inside the home, this haunting is right out of James Wan’s ‘The Conjuring’, just the first one though.

Currently, the home is occupied by the Midcalf family and their granddaughter. All of them have described strange occurrences in the house from feeling locked out of a room due to an unseen force or seeing black smoke come out of nowhere, making it impossible to see. One such occurrence is said to have happened to Josh, the son of Celeste and Mike Midcalf. One night when he was in the kitchen, he was forced to sleep on the counter after a presence refused to let him pass and go up to his room. He had seen black smoke fill the room and he was unable to scream for help.

Records and media reports from earlier have shown similar things happening in the house wherein a boy almost died of suffocation. There have also been incidents of constant unexplained pounding sounds near the home that left the local and state police absolutely baffled. There have also been reports of a toilet paper roll catching fire with no accelerants around and burnt in such a way that it was humanly impossible for it to get the amount of oxygen it did – enough to fill the room with smoke. Police from different agencies and university researchers even stayed overnight in the house, and deputies staked it out on several occasions. Priests, a K-9 unit and a paranormal expert from Sweden were also called in for the investigation. However, none could explain the mysterious occurrences.

The history of the home dates back to 1845 to the town of Iva, where the structure used to be the only general store within a good few miles. Located at Iva and Dice roads, it was a hub for the community that was yet to be incorporated in the nearby areas, where people were buying land and clearing the area for farming. The tiny town was hit with the smallpox plague and instead of getting help, they were forcefully shut inside their home and the town set on fire. Men, women, and children affected could have been burned alive or left to die miserable, terrifying deaths.

Shippy, whose rapper stage name is “Prozak,” told the Detroit Free Press: “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen any case that could remotely come close to the police reports, to the documentation, to the eyewitnesses of what happened in Merrill, and to me, it’s definitely one of the most shocking cases in paranormal history.”

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to The 1998 Khmer Rouge apology, Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers’s first movie FLYING DOWN TO RIO (1932), Gali Atari, Baltimore artist Eric Block, Mayor Tom Bradley, singer-songwriter Ed Bruce, Pablo Casals, Bernard Cribbins, Rick Danko, Ted Danson, Yvonne Elliman, Marianne Faithfull, Neil "Spyder" Giraldo, New Orleans clarinetist Willie Humphrey, Scott Joplin’s 1902 song “The Entertainer,” Bollywood actor Rajesh Khanna, Jude Law, Franz Liszt’s 1857 symphonic poem "Die Hunnenschlacht,” jazz-Celtic singer Laurel Massé, Clyde McCoy, Dina Merrill, Mary Tyler Moore, Matt “Guitar” Murphy, cellist-composer Kiyoshi Nobutoki, Glen Phillips (Toad the Wet Sprocket), Paula Poundstone, Cozy Powell, rockabilly DJ/singer-songwriter Glenn Reeves, Jim Reid, The San Francisco Symphony, Marco Antonio Solís, Barbara Steele, The Supremes’s 1965 single “My World is Empty Without You,” Ray Thomas (Moody Blues), “Billy” Tipton, Jo Van Fleet, Jon Voight, Roger Voudouris, and my friend and musical compadre “Easy” Mark Tomeo. I lack photos of Mark and I together, so I grabbed pivotal images from Mark’s fascinating career as a champion of pedal steel, resonator, and twang guitar + singer-songwriter. He was in the Grammy-nominated “New Wave cowboy” band Rubber Rodeo (shown here)—in the 80s RR played at Mabuhay Gardens in San Francisco while I just happened to be lurking nearby. The world got smaller when Mark and I met in Pennsylvania, performing and recording with Ben Kaplan, some Badlees-spinoff projects, and extensively with the band Neon Cactus. Circa 2000 I was working with Davy Jones (Monkees) on his JUSTME series of original recordings. Davy wanted a pedal steel guitarist, and I summoned Mark. Here’s “Hold Me Tight,” a Tex-Mex samba we did; the Mike Nesmith-ian arrangement was Davy’s idea: 

Meanwhile HB EMT. By the time I get to Phoenix anything can happen…

#MarkTomeo #Easy #pedal #steel #guitar #resonatorguitar #DavyJones #Monkees #Neon #Cactus #Badlees #BenKaplan #RubberRodeo #pennsylvania #phoenix #arizona #Tex-Mex #samba #Mike #Nesmith #johnnyjblair #performing #recording