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bcacstuff · 6 days ago

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Sunrise somewhere near the east coast of Brazil.

I’m not sure what time it is, or really where I am. Somewhere near the coast of Brazil, I know that; sometime during my birthday - I know that, too. I've flown past the Hindu Kush Himalaya, Pamirs, Caucasus, and Atlas Mountains, and will soon cross the Andes. I'm headed to Chile to meet my family after a long time away. A blessing, to be sure, and made even more sweet coming as it is on the heels of an incredible adventure in Nepal.

I’ve spent much of the 12 hours since Istanbul sorting through photos, visual portals into experience far away yet close at hand, pixel-born reminders of a trip, a trail, impact and experience and immersion.

I’m never quite sure how to share tales of any adventure, less so one with such meaning (to me at least) as this past one. The standard travelogue seems too mundane, too pedantic, to capture it all. Some deep and philosophical tome equally missing the mark.

So, perhaps neither, maybe some of both, a hope of struck balance, or at minimum translation of time and place and experience and people. And not all at once: Like any expedition, these things must be savored, a bit at a time, building and percolating and settling and expanding yet again. So, first, the beginning…

Me on the Kongma La back in 1993, wondering about remote valleys less-trodden than Khumbu.

I guess it was about 31 years ago - December 1993 - that Stuart Sloat and I bashed our way across the lower Khumbu Glacier from Lobuche and, laden with heavy packs, made our way to the Kongma La. We had no map, just a vague point from locals and the knowledge that there was a lake up there somewhere. We found only a puddle and a frigid night, but awoke to a splendid sunrise and the Star Wars zaps of sun-warmed ice cracking, alerting us to the real lake on the east side of the pass (as opposed to our mud wallow on the west). Glorious views, backlit Lhotse and Nuptse and countless more unknowns behind, peak on peak and valley on valley leading who knows where. I knew someday, maybe, I’d get into those valleys, wander the paths away from it all.

Thirty years later, I sat in a teahouse in Chheskam, the northern triumvirate of Mahakulung, with Jhanak Karki and Harka Kulung Rai, talking about opportunity over a steaming mug of tongba. We had just trekked parts of the Mundum Trail from Phedi over Silicho to Mahakulung visiting dZi Foundation work and communities; and then we went up above, following the Hunku Khola just enough to get a taste, an idea of what may lay above. The townspeople and government were excited as we were, having had the same idea for years: create a trail up the Hunku, connecting Chheskam to Kongme Dingma and the quite-popular Mera Peak trek.

It was all possible, all doable, but like the proverbial tree falling silently in the woods, this new trail would be all for naught if no word got out about it. But, I had an idea, and it seemed possible.

Two months before, I shared coffee in a small cafe in Glasgow with Sam Heughan. We’d “met” months earlier on Zoom calls for an ill-fated film project, and then I stalked him down in Scotland; he was, as is his manner, kind enough to indulge me rather than call the cops. I mentioned this idea, going to Everest Basecamp, but doing it the back way, the hard way, the way no one would know or understand or really care about, but the way that would be far deeper, more profound, more meaningful and purposeful and fun. He was game, but I needed to see some of it, understand it more, before committing to guiding anyone up there.

Tongba steaming and heads spinning, Jhanak, Harka, and I knew now it was doable. A route possible, something that promised to bring meaningful tourism and tourist dollars to this long-forgotten part of Nepal, so close to Khumbu and yet utterly left out of the economic boon of the Everest economy. Now I just had to convince Sam.

Trekking to Basecamp is not for the faint of heart, even doing it the standard way from Lukla up the Khumbu Valley. There’s long days, cold nights, high altitudes and dry air and new foods and more. It kicks people’s butts with glee. But this route? It promised much more: camping rather than lodges; an unknown trail through unknown country (How steep would it be? How long each day? Would we find water where we needed it, flat ground?); a 19,000-foot, semi-technical pass to cross into Khumbu; and more.

As I thought and hoped, though, Sam took little convincing. An adventurous soul with a heart of gold, he was excited immediately about it all and was on board. And, to be honest, my little coffeeshop meeting was both to suss out his interest and let him meet me (and judge me) in person, but also, more importantly, to feel him out. Guiding for me is not simply an economic thing, transactional, but about time and people and experience. I’ve done too many “off-the-shelf” trips in the past to have zero tolerance for sharing the mountains with people whose goals and values are misaligned with mine. It took but minutes with Sam to know our worlds, while vastly different, were built upon similar ideas and ideals and approaches.

And so, on December 3, we met in Kathmandu, a year’s planning finally coming together.

Unfortunately for Sam, I don’t really believe in the sugar-coated version of Nepal; fancy hotels and windowed views of life are little more than television with smell. I want people to see the real Nepal, wander the back streets, immerse in the smoky incense of dawn on cobbled streets, bells chiming and dogs barking, ambling through the visceral reality that is Pashupatinath, taking in the respite of Bodhanath, embracing the comforting chaos of alleys and backways of Lalitpur.

Sam rose to it all, never flustered or bothered, always interested and engaged and inquisitive. We had but 24 hours in the Valley, but Sam saw and did and digested a lot.

And then we were off, an Altitude Air B-3 piloted expertly by Moreno whipping us up and out of Kathmandu, through the clenching smog of the city to sprawling views of the Himalaya: the Ganesh and Langtang ranges, on to Dorje Lhakpa and Gauri Shankar as we fluttered high over Kavre Palanchok. Then the jumbled jags of Rolwaling and behind, finally, the Everest range, giants piercing the morning sky, Cho Oyu, Nuptse, Lhotse, Everest. Makalu behind, hiding a bit, masked by multitudes, a distant Kangchenjunga almost a mirage eastward.

Before long, some 40 minutes, the show was over, the reality about to begin. We dropped down, our mark Chheskam, a small village clutching the flat ground hundreds of meters above the Hunku Khola, a river raging and carving down from above. Moreno, Swiss to the core, politely but abruptly ushered us out with our duffels and, counting fuel minutes, was off in a jiffy.

We were here, and town was ready.

Going into this trip, I knew Chheskam was excited. A new trail represents economic possibility for the village, the chance to not just be small pawns in the bigger Khumbu trekking economy, but rather to capture some of that themselves, to control it, to reap the benefits and build it out in a way that fits and flourishes.

I guess, though, I didn’t know how excited: We were met at the chopper by many, locals and officials, all adorning us with kathas and warm welcomes. We then walked around the village, Sam getting to see firsthand the impact of dZi Foundation’s work here, projects like one house-one tap, one house-one toilet, kitchen gardens, and more resulting in a very self-sufficient, healthy, clean, place with relative prosperity. Thanks to Jhanak’s connections, we met the oldest man in town as he demonstrated traditional weaving of nettle fabric, sipped raksi in our friend Prashanta’s house, and briefly sat with wedding guests tipsy from revelry. And then we were summoned to the local school for a bigger gathering.

Our team ready to leave Chheskam for the Hunku Khola valley and the new Muddhi-Kongme Dingma trail.

It was huge, much of the town was gathered, hundred of school children, the local government officials, and more, all in the school grounds. We were run through the welcome gauntlet of ceremonial recognition, our necks strung with dozens of kathas and marigold garlands before being treated to local cultural dances and speeches of excitement and gratitude and welcome. Gratitude and ceremony are big in Nepal, and it was strong enough in Chheskam to feel a bit awkward: after all, Sam and I and our team were here just to walk up the valley. We had no guarantees of success - for us or for the future trail. But, the point I think was far bigger than either of us, any of us; the celebration on that day was one of excitement for the future, of possibility, of potential signified by the two of us being willing, caring enough, to come and do this and see where it leads, literally and figuratively.

Thirty-one years before I stared off into these valleys, selfishly hoping that one day I’d wander them, filling my personal cup with some adventure. It took a long time, and was beyond gratifying to finally be here, but doing so with great people, a great team, and a goal beyond anything personal.

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deceptive-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe. Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect. Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements. Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos. You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward. Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door. Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home. A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with. Lower expectations created less disappointment. If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white. Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure. And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time. It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map. Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods. But it only intrigued you. From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone. The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up. That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens. The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into. Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here. But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal. So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings. You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak. The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response. As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence. The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind. Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40. The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener. Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure. It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center. The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected. A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry. The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings. It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning. In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before.

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain. You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless. Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place. But first, you wanted to take it all in. You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet. The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie. The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste. Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking. But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes. You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove. Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled. Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street. From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight. You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way. A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing. And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch. The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette. He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves. He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him. Or rather his interaction with you. Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven. And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world. He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him. You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one. That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself. And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed. Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done. By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later. Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town. Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life. Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things. It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power. Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long. At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with.

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today. The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car. You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning. Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck. With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey. The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated. But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from. So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square. You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it. A fresh start where no one knew your name. This would be good for you. At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost. You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’. At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek. There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind. This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right? Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here. You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time. As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed. You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks. It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley. Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map. The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square. The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite. Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness. The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come. A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality. Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate. Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far. People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered. You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square. Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’. In return, you graced them with a polite smile. It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships. If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce. Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular. And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either. A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically. Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head. First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now. Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand. Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then, no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible. The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for. She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register.

“You’re new. But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?” She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window. She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes. You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.” Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally. Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon. “We don’t get many newbies. They’ll get it outta their system.” Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.” A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right? New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all. Or maybe you could fly under the radar? It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked. You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain. Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place. Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel. Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers. And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state. A mid life crisis in your early twenties.

“Miss, your change.” The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.” You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you. She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person. She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself. That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car. Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience. Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough. A small misstep causing you to trip? No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks. Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep? You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time. What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car. Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn. Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable. He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning. The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind. Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare. The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?” He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended. It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not. But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving. It won’t happen again.” You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry. “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.” He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.” You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek. It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any. It was just an observation. “Now, get out of my lot.” It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time. With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window. Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works. Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’? You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main. Then right on Cherry.” His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time. So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask. You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs. You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you. With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse. You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home. Nowhere was home. Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it. In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car. You were always doing your best. Always to please others. And it never worked.

~end~

Masterlist

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #bartender!eddie #eddie munson au #bartender!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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ryanclaremont · 3 months ago

Text

beyond the sea.

Ryan's been looking forward to this project for weeks now. She's planned out a few spots, called some of the local businesses and the people she spoke too seem to be welcoming and exciting she's coming to put their seaside town on the map, garnering maybe a few more tourists per year. The thing is, some people hate tourists but tourism bring in so much money to a city or a town, it helps where it can. And that's what Ryan wants to do, help people find a spot off the beaten path.

She's packed a small overnight bag, they're going to stay at a bed and breakfast right along the water which she is excited about. The pictures on the website looked so beautiful and serene. Plus they get a view of the so-called haunted lighthouse. Ryan meets August at the train station that morning, boarding and finding their seats. She sits across from him, sharing a small table.

A voice comes over the speakers informing that the train is leaving in ten minutes. They're only going about an hour away, but Ryan's thrilled for the trip. Ryan slips off her jacket, letting it rest long her back as she sips her coffee. "Did you look over the itinerary?" Ryan asks August. "It's flexible, leaving time open to walk around and see what else we can find."

She moves her hair over her shoulder, watching people come almost running for the train, "The main ones are the lighthouse, this pub in town, some walking trails, and the sea of course."

#rpara9: beyond the sea

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katyswrites · 2 years ago

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 7 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, phone sex, daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, webcam sex, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 6.5k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 7 | is it cool that I said all that?

Soon enough, June gave way to July, the mid-summer heat setting in across the city like a fog. The city became busier, too, thanks to the peak tourism season and school being closed for the summer. For once, you barely noticed - you didn’t have to worry about the influx of customers, the more crowded buses and metro cars with packed, sweaty bodies that you had come to dread. Now, you were happy to shell out the money for a taxi, or to call Steve’s car service, even when he wasn’t with you. You had felt strange about it at first, but he insisted upon it. And, of course, you had started spending most nights with Steve - still getting picked up from your apartment, going out to fancy dinners and bars, and then going home with him. You had started spending the night more often, too.

On mornings that Steve had work, he’d leave quietly, rarely even causing you to stir. He’d usually send a text, or on occasion leaving a note; something along the lines of stay as long as you’d like, I’ll see you soon. On occasion, he’d stay at your place, too. You were embarrassed by your tiny, cluttered apartment, thinking of his pristine penthouse. But, he never said anything. Sometimes, you’d find yourself stumbling up the stairs and into your bed, challenging yourselves to be quiet with the knowledge of Robin asleep on the other side of the wall.

It was a nice routine - in the time you had been living in Rome, you had been spending most of your summers working as many hours as possible to save for the upcoming semester of university, spreading your money as thinly as possible during the school year when you had to inevitably cut back on hours. But now, it was different - you were letting yourself actually enjoy the city. You would take yourself out for breakfast, sipping coffee leisurely in a cafe while the city woke up. You would go for walks, stopping in shops along the way. Normally, you’d take one look at the prices of anything and walk out empty-handed. But now, you decided to treat yourself. If you saw something you liked - clothes, books, trinkets, jewelry, fresh food from the market - you let yourself buy it, not feeling guilt anymore when you brandished Steve’s credit card. Even in casual clothes, you found yourself dressing nicer in your daily life, the way you had always wanted, but just couldn’t afford to. You treated yourself to the hair salon, manicure appointments, and even splurged on the extra spa options every now and then. It was all new, still.

“You going somewhere?” Robin had asked one morning over her cereal, eyeing you as you were pouring yourself coffee, already fully dressed for the day.

“Just the market - do you need anything?”

“Uh, no. It’s just - you look nice. That’s all,” she remarked, smiling a bit.

“Oh - uh, thanks.”

You had started to notice it, too - your face had grown a little fuller, your skin brighter, the dark circles under your eyes a thing of the past. At one point, when you walked past a mirror, you stopped in your tracks - you were glowing. You never knew what people had meant when they said that, before - but now you understood.

Then, of course, there was Steve. You were seeing him even more frequently, five or six nights a week. Sometimes, he’d even meet you for lunch, on the rare occasion that he actually took his lunch break. It was over one of these lunch dates that he broke the news - you were sitting at a cafe close to the city center, only a few blocks from his office. You sipped your coffee, eyeing the menu as he cleared his throat.

“So, um - I have to go away this week. Business trip,” he said.

You looked up at him, a wave of disappointment washing over you. You tried to shake it - it was stupid, why did it matter? You just did your best to keep your face neutral.

“Oh, really?” you asked.

He nodded, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair.

“I only found out this morning - Barcelona, just for a bit. Five days, I think. Six, if you include travel, I guess.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together.

“Yeah, I mean - do what you’ve got to do. At least it’s not too far, right?”

“Not at all - five, six hour flight, I think.”

“Well - that should be fun. I went to Barcelona over winter break with some friends my second year - I mean, we stayed in a hostel and basically just fucked around in the city, but it was nice.”

Steve chuckled, picking up his coffee cup.

“Yeah, well, I’ll probably spend most of it holed up in a conference room or hotel. Besides, I don’t speak a lick of Spanish.”

You shrugged. “To be fair, you barely speak Italian and have been living here for, what, six months?”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender as he rolled his eyes. “To be fair, a lot of people speak English. Still, pretty sad to live in Italy for the better part of the year and not know any of the language, right?”

He was smiling, shaking his head incredulously, but avoiding your gaze. It probably meant nothing, just him making a joke, but you couldn’t help but read a bit into it. There was something in his tone, something wistful, a bit self-deprecating.

“I could teach you,” you said softly.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up at you.

“I mean, I don’t think you’d be fluent, I’m not a teacher or anything, but… some words, phrases, basics, things like that. If you want.”

He smiled, a bit more softly this time.

“Yeah - that’d be nice.”

You both just stared at each other, exchanging smiles, the moment lingering. It was interrupted when your waitress returned, asking for your order. You glanced over at Steve.

“Okay - I guess the lesson one will be ordering in a restaurant, yeah?”

******

You stayed over at Steve’s the night before he left. Despite doing his best to move quietly around the room, you found yourself waking up to the sound of him zipping his suitcase, his silhouette barely visible in the dim, early-morning light.

“Mm,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

He froze, turning to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Sorry, baby - go back to sleep.”

“Are y’leaving?” you asked groggily.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m afraid I have to. But, I’ll be back on Saturday, yeah?”

“Hm, yeah,” you said, turning over under the sheets. You let your breathing slow, shutting your eyes as you heard Steve move about the room, grabbing some last-minute things. He whispered your name through the darkness, so softly that even awake, you barely heard it. But, sleep was pulling you back into its clutches, and you didn’t say anything, too disoriented to reply. In hindsight, he probably thought that you had fallen completely back to sleep. You heard him take a few steps until he was right next to you, crouching down to your level. He reached out slowly, placing his hand on the side of your head, gently rubbing his thumb along your temple.

“You know - I’m really gonna miss you,” he whispered. “I know I probably shouldn’t, but -”

He stopped, taking a deep breath. Then, you felt the warmth of his lips pressing to your temple, then he pulled away, footsteps carrying him towards the doorway.

“Did you say something?” you grumbled into the pillow.

His footsteps stopped. Then, from the doorway, you heard, “Oh, uh, no - just, go to sleep. You can let yourself out - I’ll see you Saturday.”

Then he was gone.

*****

You went almost 12 hours before you texted Steve. You weren’t entirely sure what the protocol with this was - should you reach out to him? Should you ask how his flight was, or how things were going? It felt strange, though, doing something a girlfriend would do. But, it felt just as strange to not talk to him.

You stared at your phone for a few moments, tapping your fingers nervously on the kitchen table. You stared at your text conversation, typing and erasing a few times. This was stupid - you should be able to just text him -

hey

It sent before you could think about it anymore. You groaned, letting your head fall forward on the table.

“What did you do now?” Robin’s voice asked from the kitchen doorway.

“Why do you assume I did something?”

“Well, did you?”

You rolled your head to the side to look up at her, sighing.

“I’m the lamest mistress in the world.”

Robin visibly gagged.

“Okay, first of all - never say ‘mistress’ again. Also, that’s not technically what you are -”

“Robs, I love you, but I don’t need -”

“What’s going on?” she asked, more sincere now. She slid into the chair across from you, the old rickety wood creaking under her.

You just flashed your phone at her, defeated. She studied it for a moment before leaning back in her chair, arms crossed.

“Yep. You’re lame.”

You groaned again, slamming your forehead on the table again.

“What do I do?”

“Well, why the fuck are you texting him, anyways?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just - isn’t he away? For like, a week?”

You straightened up, furrowing your brow.

“Well, yeah.”

“So - why are you texting him? Like, are you trying to sext him or something?”

“What? God, no -”

“Then - huh?”

The look on Robin’s face said it all - somehow, not sexting him was infinitely weirder. Before either of you could say anything, your phone sounds off with a ding.

Steve: Hi!

You stared down at it, realizing one thing - somehow, Steve was infinitely lamer than you’d ever be. As you continued to stare at his message, plotting how to even reply, you were pulled out by Robin saying your name. You glanced up at her - had she said something?

“Hm?”

“I asked why’re you smiling? Is it him?”

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. Suddenly feeling like a silly schoolgirl, you shook your head.

“Uh, no -”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“Oh god.”

*******

For that entire first day, you found yourself constantly texting Steve. Before, it had just been making plans, occasionally saying goodnight, letting him know you got home safe. But this was… different.

how was your flight?

It was okay, no complaints. Just tired. Did you get home okay?

yep thanks for letting me stay over

Never a problem - sorry I woke you up this morning.

…

oh you didn’t

at least, i don’t remember that

A lie.

Oh, good.

It was easy, after that. He sent you pictures of the city as he drove through, as well as his hotel room.

ooooh, fancy

It should be, considering I’ll be spending most of my time here.

you’re not exploring the city at all? let yourself have some fun, old man

Ha. Wish I could - I’ll be at a conference or in meetings most of the week. Maybe we’ll go out for some corporate dinners, though.

sorry, i was falling asleep just reading about it 😴

Oh, shut up.

you gonna make me?

He didn’t reply for a few minutes. You saw him start to type a few times, stop, and start again. Finally:

You’re going to pay for that later, you know.

i’m counting on it 😉

You didn’t hear much from Steve after that - it was silly to think you should, considering he had work to do. You went about the rest of your day pushing him from your mind - heading down to the market, cooking dinner for yourself and Robin, ending the night watching a terrible horror movie that you laughed your way through. It was pretty late, after you had been lying in your bed scrolling on your phone mindlessly for a while, that you heard from Steve again. But, he didn’t text - he was calling you.

The moment his name popped up on the screen, you sat up a bit straighter, letting your finger hover over the accept button. You weren’t sure why it was such a big deal that he was calling you - but, when you pressed accept, you felt your stomach flip, your heart rate speeding up a bit as you pressed the phone to your ear.

After a deep breath, you managed, “Hello?”

“Hey there,” Steve’s voice replied. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Oh, no,” you assured him, shifting to fully sit up. “I was awake.”

“Okay, good - I wasn’t sure, I know it’s late.”

You pulled your phone away for a second to glance at the screen - 11:47pm.

“Yeah, I guess,” you said.

“What are you doing?” he asked, something rustling on the other end.

“Just - well, nothing, really. I was just in bed, scrolling on my phone, normal stuff.”

“Normal stuff?”

“Yeah - you know, the rest of us are on social media, letting our brains turn to mush. It’s fun, you should try it,” you said sarcastically.

That earned a chuckle from him on the other end.

“Sounds great, but I’ll probably pass.”

“What’s your phone for, then?”

“Work. And contacting people, like you. Well, not like you, but - you know what I mean. Maybe taking a picture every now and then. What else would I need it for?”

You rolled your eyes. “What are you, 80?”

“Honestly? Feels like it sometimes.”

You laughed, settling further into your pillows.

“So, how’s Barcelona?”

He sighed. “Fine. I mean, I landed, checked into my hotel, and went straight to the conference. It’s the same shit as always - presentations, schmoozing people from other companies, meeting with industry big-wigs. But, at least there was a cocktail hour at the end.”

“Wait, are you drunk-calling me?”

“What? No! I only had a couple. It’s not - it doesn’t matter.”

You rolled your eyes. You could picture him, flustered and slightly indignant at the mere accusation.

“So, where are you now?” you asked.

“Back at my hotel. I - I just wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay - It’s nice, actually.”

A moment of silence hung between you, and you immediately kicked yourself for even saying it.

“I’m sorry, that was - I just meant that it’s - well, you’re -”

“What’re you wearing?” he asked, the words tumbling out. You paused, your ramblings dying on your tongue.

“Huh?”

“I - I asked, what are you wearing?”

You looked down, brow furrowed. “Uh, like, an old college t-shirt, some shorts, just what I usually - wait, oh my god… are you trying to, like, have phone sex right now?”

“Well - it’s not - yes. Yes, I am. That’s how it’s supposed to start, right?”

You giggled, falling back on your bed. You probably shouldn’t be laughing, but you couldn’t help it - somehow, Steve was both the most suave and awkward person you’ve ever met, often at the same time.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, voice tinged with worry.

“It’s just - you’ve never done this before?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked sheepishly.

“Well, yeah, kinda. But, don’t worry about it, you’re doing great.”

“Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to, I just thought you wanted -”

“No! I mean, when you said you’re going to pay for that later, I thought you meant when you got home. But… if you’re offering -”

A pause. Then, “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m offering.”

You laid back a bit more, biting your lip.

“Well, let me get a bit more comfortable, Harrington.”

You reached down to the hem of your t-shirt, lifting it over your head with ease. Bare-chested, you hissed as the cool air hit your breasts, making yourself comfortable on your back again. Placing the phone on the pillow next to you, you put Steve on speaker.

“What did you just do?” Steve asked on the other end.

“Just took my shirt off, hope you don’t mind.”

You heard his breath hitch. “What kind of bra do you have on?” he asked quietly.

“Wasn’t wearing one,” you replied.

“Fuck.”

“Mm,” you said, taking one of your breasts in your hand. You began massaging it, rolling your nipple between your fingers until it hardened, before moving to the next one.

“They feel so nice in my hand,” you said breathily. “So soft, god, but not as nice as when you do it?”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, voice hoarse. “God, I miss your tits.”

“Mm,” you said, leaning into your own touch. “And they miss you. They miss your mouth on them, you know that? Now I’ve just got them all to myself -”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve murmured.

You let your hand snake down, toying with the hem of your shorts. Then, slowly, you slide them off, shimmying them down your legs and kicking them off.

“Sorry, my shorts were in the way - had to take them off,” you confessed.

“Yeah? You still got anything on, baby?”

“Just my panties - but, god, they’re soaked,” you said, fingers ghosting over the lacy fabric.

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve said, voice a bit rougher. “My voice gets you off that much, huh?”

“Mmm hm,” you said dreamily. “But, there’s a problem.”

“And what’s that?”

“If I had to guess… you’ve still got all your clothes on, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, I’m not touching myself until your cock is out.”

And with that, you heard rustling on the other end of the phone, and the distinct sound of a belt hitting the floor, followed by fabric. God, he wasn’t even dressed for bed, yet.

“There you go,” you whispered. “That’s more like it. Are you hard yet?”

“Yes, Jesus, I’ve been half-hard ever since you picked up the phone.”

“Good,” you said.

“But - I’m not doing another thing until you start touchin’ yourself,” he said firmly. “Can you do that for me?”

“Anything you want, daddy.”

You heard him groan, and you smirked to yourself. You let your hand wander over your clothed cunt, finally allowing your fingers to slip under the waistband. You ran your fingers up and down your slit, soaking them in the wetness there. When you finally came in contact with your clit, you gasped.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, voice gruff.

“I’m so wet,” you breathed. “My fingers are coated - I - I’m rubbing my clit. Nice and slow.”

“Good girl,” Steve whispered. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” you admitted.

“Does it feel as good as when I do it?”

“No,” you said. “But still - god, it feels so nice.”

“Do you touch yourself a lot?” he asked. “When I’m not around? Tell me the truth, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “I do.”

“Do you think of me?”

“Mm hm, I think about you when I make myself cum, all alone.”

He sighed on the other end. “Yeah, I bet you do. Because you’re fuckin’ mine.”

“I’m yours,” you echoed, picking up speed on your clit. You gasped.

“Do you ever use toys to get yourself off?” he asked.

“I - ah! Fuck - yeah, I do. I have a - shit - a vibrator.”

A pause on the other end. Then, “Take it out, baby. I want you to use it.”

Even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you nodded, reaching towards your nightstand and shuffling through the drawer until you found it, a little purple thing that had been getting less use lately than usual.

“I have it,” you said, settling back down. “But… I’ll only start using it if you start touching yourself, now.”

He groaned. “Fine, I will.”

You heard him hiss, then his breathing start to quicken.

“I’m stroking my cock, baby - god, I’m so fuckin’ hard right now - just thinking about your pretty pussy, how good it feels around me.”

You sighed, turning on the vibrator in response. Upon hearing the sound, Steve groaned. You pressed it to your clit, crying out the moment it made contact. Your back arched, your hips bucking into it.

“Oh, god - this feels so good,” you said.

“Are you using it?”

“Yeah, right on my clit - it’s so good, it’s too much -”

“Yes, play with that pussy, baby,” he said, voice strained. “I want you to fuck yourself on your fingers, can you do that for me?”

“‘Course I can,” you whispered. “After your cock, I can fit anything inside me.”

He let out a guttural groan. In response, you took your free hand that had returned to massaging your breasts and brought it downwards, coating it in your slick before letting a finger slip inside you. After a few moments, you added a second finger, stretching and pumping as you circled your clit with the vibe.

“Mm, that feels good. I miss having you inside me, though,” you confessed.

“Fuck - yeah? You do?”

“Mm. Nothing makes me feel as good as your cock, sir.”

“Damn right,” he said. “I’m just picturin’ you, all spread out, touching yourself - are you close?”

“Yes,” you admitted, hips bucking to your own touch. You added a third finger, curling them inside of yourself, finding that one spot that made you see stars.

“Are you close?” you asked.

“Yeah, fuck, I am - you should see this, sitting here, cock in my hand - wishing it was your pussy, or you mouth. It’s like your pussy was made for me, I wish I was buried inside you right now -”

You felt your abdomen tighten, your heart rate quickening. You moaned, fucking yourself on your fingers faster.

“Shit, Steve, I - I’m close, I’m gonna cum -”

“Cum, baby, please,” he begged. “And say my name when you do it - I wanna hear you -”

“Yes, daddy,” you sighed, “I’ll cum for you, I’ll scream your name as loud as you want -”

“Good girl,” he grunted, his breathing labored.

You pictured it, Steve jerking himself off to the sound of your voice, the very thought of you getting him off. You gasped and moaned as you touched yourself, your walls starting to clench around your fingers. You thought of Steve - his hands on you, his voice in your ears, his cock inside you, filling you to the brim. You could feel it, your soft walls wrapped around him, him pounding into you, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as you both came -

Before you knew it, you were coming, your peak hitting you suddenly. You screamed, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed and pulsed around your fingers.

“Steve! Fuck, oh my god, I’m cumming -”

“Shit - me too, princess. Oh -” he growled your name as he came and you convulsed and moaned as you thought about it, him spilling into his hand, your name on his lips.

You rode out your orgasm, brow sweating and breathing heavy as you came down from your high. You dropped the vibrator, the stimulation becoming too much. You just heard Steve’s labored breathing on the other end of the phone, both of you needing a moment to gather yourself. Eventually, you withdrew your fingers from yourself, grimacing. Your hand was soaked, coated in the evidence of your orgasm.

“Christ,” Steve breathed after a while, finally breaking the silence. “Baby, that was so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” you asked. “What would you rate it?”

“Five out of five stars,” he joked. “Definitely would do it again.”

You laughed, slapping your palm to your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling. You had a stupid smile on your face, you could feel it. But, you didn’t really care - he wasn’t even here to see you.

“Same,” you said. “So, turns out you are good at phone sex.”

This earned a laugh from Steve on the other end, much to your satisfaction.

“Oh, yeah - but, I’m only going to get better with practice. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

You felt your face heat. You bit your lip, nodding.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Good,” he said. “Because whenever I'm away, I'm planning on doing this a lot."

That time, you let yourself giggle into the phone, practically giddy. And, you tried to ignore the small part of you, deep down, that ached.

******

The next day, you hardly heard from Steve, aside from the odd text exchange here and there. That was fine enough with you - Robin got it in her head to go out again, and you opted to go along. You finally met Vickie, who met you at the bar - she seemed lovely, and exactly Robin’s type. You had been spending so much time with Steve, that you had forgotten what it had felt like to be a normal 20-year-old. So, when you stumbled in the door at 3am and collapsed in your bed, you had hardly thought about Steve at all. That was, at least, until the following day. When you woke up, it was nearly noon, a headache already forming as you blinked groggily in the morning light. You reached for your phone, squinting as the newest message from Steve flashed across the screen:

Good morning :)

morning

After a few minutes, a response:

Did you just wake up?

yeah

Robin and I went out last night

i’m kinda hungover

Should you have told him that? Or, was he going to judge you, reprimand you, ask where you went? Then again, did he have any right to?

That sounds fun. Well, not the hangover, but going out. I hope you had a good time :)

Seemed legitimate enough - over text, you learned, Steve really only knows how to be genuine.

it was, i’m regretting it now tho

Well, take it easy. I’m heading out now, I’ll probably be busy most of the day.

What were you even supposed to say to that? Have fun? Of course he wouldn’t, it was a 12-hour workday. Did he even want you to say anything to that?

ok ☺️

It wasn’t until quite late that night that you heard from him again. You were getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth when his name popped up on your screen - but now, he was FaceTiming you. Part of you wondered if it was an accident, if he meant to just do a voice call instead, or perhaps not call you at all. Still, you quickly spit out your toothpaste and fumbled with the phone to answer. Steve’s face popped up, looking expectant. It had only been a few days since you actually saw him, and you felt your heart tighten anyway.

“Hey,” you said, trying to mask your surprise as you made your way back towards your bedroom. “What’s going on?”

Something faltered in his face, only for a split second - for all you knew, it was a connection glitch.

“Oh, nothing - sorry, should I not have called?”

“No! No, it’s fine, I just - didn’t take you for the FaceTiming type.”

“I’m thirty, not eighty.”

You rolled your eyes, plopping down onto your bed and settling until you were sitting up cross-legged.

“Allegedly, you old man. How was your day?”

He sighed deeply, in a way that you almost wished you hadn’t asked.

“Fine, I guess. Long. We’re really close to closing a major deal, but… it’s just -” he sighed again, rubbing his hand across his face. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details. But it’s taking longer than expected, and we’re really hitting some roadblocks.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, frowning a bit. He looked tired, and stressed. All you wanted was to reach through the screen and kiss it better.

“It’s alright, I’m not expecting you to say anything - I don’t even know why I’m even telling you, I just -”

“-wanted to vent,” you finished. “Yeah, I get it. You can talk about these things with me, you know.”

He smiled wearily. “Thank you. Really.”

A moment of silence passed, before he spoke again.

“So - was your day at least good?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, it was fine. Nothing too exciting. Just did a lot of cleaning around the apartment, to be honest. Cooked dinner, had a night in. You know, nothing crazy.”

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah - nothing hydration and Advil couldn’t fix. It wasn’t too bad.”

You squinted at the screen for a moment, and realized he was sitting at a desk.

“Are you - are you FaceTiming me from your laptop?”

“Uh, yeah - why?”

You just giggled. “Nothing, it’s just… of course you are.”

He rolled his eyes, visibly fighting a smile. “I was doing work, and… I don’t know. I guess I just really wanted to see your face.”

You felt something warm in your chest, spreading through you until your ears tingled and face heated. You did your best to ignore it, just smiling back at him.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you admitted. You felt a yawn coming on, but did your best to stifle it. Still, Steve apparently noticed, as his face set into a frown.

“Are you tired? I can go, if you want.”

“No, it’s okay! Seriously. If I hang up, I’ll just be on my phone for the next two hours, anyways.”

“As long as you’re sure -”

“I am.”

He nodded. “Okay. And I didn’t - I don’t want you to think I called for the same reason I did the other night, by the way. At least, not if you don’t want that.”

You felt your face flush at the memory.

“Then, why did you call? Just to see me?”

“Well, yes. And… this is going to sound stupid.”

“Try me,” you whispered, settling further into bed by the minute.

“I just - I haven’t been sleeping that well, since I’ve been here. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s just being in a hotel, but I usually get used to that after a night or so. But… maybe it’s just because I haven’t been sleeping alone much lately.”

Oh.

“Do you want me to stay on with you?” you asked softly.

He nodded, glancing down to avoid your gaze.

“Okay.”

So you did. You both just started talking, about your days, the book Steve was reading, the TV show you were binge-watching. What you did around the house that day, a quick tour of your (now cleaner) bedroom, which led to him asking about the photos pinned you your wall, and the tchotchkes on your bookshelf. You got the “grand” tour of his hotel room, which he evidently had been spending very little time in. Slowly, you began to carry more of the conversation, his responses coming slower, becoming shorter. You were both in your beds, lying sideways - he had set the computer on his lap, now barely visible through the dim light.

After who knows how long, you realized you had been talking and hardly heard a response from Steve. You paused, only hearing his slow, deep breathing. He was asleep, finally. Your initial response was relief - he needed to be up early, and if this is what it took for him to finally fall asleep, that was enough for you. But, another small part of you was indescribably sad. Sad for the man on the other end of the call, who was still a boy in so many ways, who couldn’t spend his nights alone, but probably often did…until recently.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered. He, of course, didn’t hear. Maybe that was for the best.

When you hung up, it didn’t take you long to fall asleep. Your last thought before you drifted off was of Steve, and the way he had said I just really wanted to see your face.

*******

For the rest of Steve’s trip, you two fell into a routine - he’d call you late at night. You’d chat about your respective days, just catch up. Sometimes, he’d vent about his frustrations with work; other times, he’d just keep asking about you. It was the night before he came back that it came up.

“You’ll probably be relieved to come home tomorrow,” you said.

“Definitely,” he admitted. He was ready for bed, only wearing a white t-shirt from what you could see on-camera, back pressed against the headboard of his bed. He sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “I really need a break, even if it’s just for the weekend.”

“Yeah,” you said. “We don’t have to do something on Saturday, by the way. In case you’re tired from traveling.”

“No! I mean, I want to see you. My flight gets in around 9am, so maybe we can do dinner?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” you replied, fighting the encroaching excitement at the thought of being with him again. “Just let me know.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, after a moment. “Wait, it’s Friday night - why are you at home?”

There’s an unspoken question in there: you didn’t stay home just for me, right?

You shrugged. “Robin’s out with Vickie, and - I don’t know, I thought about going out, doing something, but I just didn’t really feel like it.”

“Oh, okay - just making sure. Because, you’re twenty - if you want to do something fun over the weekend, it’s okay -”

“Almost twenty-one,” you joked, not even thinking as you said it. He paused, eyebrows raised.

“Almost? Is your birthday soon?”

You looked up, shrugging. “Oh, yeah - it’s next week, on the 18th.”

“Do you have something planned for it?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, not really. Maybe Robin and I will go out to dinner with some friends, or something. I don’t know, I’ve never been big on my birthday.”

He paused for a moment, and you were suddenly afraid that he’d ask why. But, he didn’t. Instead, he just said, “Well, your 21st birthday is kind of a big deal.”

“I mean, in the States, yes. But, I can already go out to a bar here, so the novelty’s kind of worn off. Just means I’m another year older, really.”

“But, still… it’s worth celebrating, right?”

You shrugged, maintaining an air of nonchalance.

“Sure, I guess.”

It went silent for a moment, Steve evidently starting to open a new tab and start typing on his computer.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothing, just… thinking.”

You just shrugged, choosing to not even worry about it. Knowing him, he was probably responding to work emails, despite it being nearly midnight.

“You don’t want to do too much of that, you know,” you said sarcastically.

Steve scoffed, tearing his eyes from the screen back to you.

“You know, I’ve been keeping a list of all these clever quips you’ve been throwing my way,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do with that?”

He smiled then, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Make sure I find ways to shut you up, once I get back.”

You nearly choked on nothing, ears roaring as the blood rushed to your head. Steve must’ve noticed how caught off-guard you were, the way your mouth hung open, eyes wide. He smirked, clearly self-satisfied. That alone helped you regain your footing. In a measured voice, you replied:

“I hope that’s a promise, sir.”

His eyes darkened a bit, and he smiled.

“Take your clothes off. Right now.”

Who were you to say no to that?

******

When you woke up the next morning, strangely, there wasn’t a text from Steve. You frowned at your phone, blinking groggily. It was Saturday, and nearly noon - after spreading yourself on camera for Steve, both of you coming together with each other’s names on your lips, you had fallen into a deep, blissful sleep. Despite your lie-in, Steve should’ve touched down back in Rome by now. You had figured, at the very least, that he would’ve sent you a text with instructions for tonight.

You groaned, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, before slowly rolling out of bed. As you padded down the hallway, you heard movement in the kitchen. Robin must’ve already been awake. You prayed that she had already made coffee - if she hadn’t eaten yet, maybe you two would order something, or go out.

“Hey, Robs?” you called, stifling a yawn. “Is there coffee on? Because if not -”

You stopped in your tracks. Because, standing in your kitchen with Robin, was Steve. He was dressed casually, just in jeans and a black t-shirt, leaning against the counter with one hand shoved in his pocket, the other grasping a mug. He straightened up when he saw you, smiling.

“Oh - hey,” you said stiffly, trying to figure out if you were still dreaming or not.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Robin said brightly. She immediately handed you a mug of coffee, knowing you well enough that she didn’t even have to ask. You accepted it, eyes darting back and forth between her and Steve.

“I - what are you doing here?” you asked. Realizing you sounded accusatory, you added, “It’s just - I hadn’t heard anything, I didn’t realize you were coming over -”

“Oh, this is a surprise,” he assured, smiling. Even after a week of not seeing him in-person, you felt your heart quicken at the sight of him - how boyishly handsome he was, how he stared at you like you were the only thing in the room.

“A surprise?” you echoed.

“Yeah,” Robin added. “See, Steve asked if he could come over - wait, how did you even get my number?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got my ways, Buckley.”

Robin just rolled her eyes. “Well, anyway - Steve came over because, well, he wanted to talk about some stuff. Well, ask me about - why don’t you tell her?” she asked, redirecting her attention to Steve.

“Right, yeah, okay.”

He locked eyes with you, grinning. “Pack your bags, we’re leaving today, for a week.”

“Leaving? For where?”

“That’s a surprise,” he said. “But, we’re taking a trip, just you and me. And, I came over to run it by Robin, and to assure her that I’m not planning on murdering you. Which, by the way, I would’ve done by now if I wanted to.”

Robin shrugged, taking a sip from her mug.

“Can’t ever be too careful.”

You shook your head.

“I - so, what’s going on? Why is this a surprise? And, don’t you have work?”

“I took the week off,” he assured. “In my seven years in this company, I’ve never taken a vacation. Not a personal day, anything. I’ve accrued a lot, and this is a pretty damn good reason to use it.”

You cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“What is?”

Steve’s eyes flitted up and down your form once, before settling his gaze back on yours, smiling warmly. You were still in your pajamas, and probably should’ve been embarrassed. But, with the way he was looking at you, you found it hard to be.

“This vacation, it’s my gift to you,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

*******

author's note: thanks for your patience, everyone. The next last few chapters are going to be longer, and have a lot more "plot" (aka fluff and angst). I also can't keep a taglist for this fic anymore - it's too long, which is a nice problem to have, but still a problem! To make sure you never miss an installment, make sure to turn on post notifications for the blog. Also keep an eye out for my new Steve series, coming soon. As always, thank you to Em - she knows why :)

KO-FI ♡

#dcmb fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #st fic #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you

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maybe-boys-do-love · 16 days ago

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The Only Friends Conspiracy Corner

Welcome to my Only Friends conspiracy theory corner, where I lose my mind on the regular and explain why I believe Only Friends is a veiled commentary on the Thai BL entertainment industry and its relationship to Thailand's soft power economic model, especially Thailand's gay (aka pink money) tourism. As The Heart Killers gets relatively explicit about issues of structural political and economic power, now seems as good a time as ever to talk about Jojo’s last show that seemed to me to put so much of its political work in the subtext. This is just the starter pack. Hit me up with more thoughts anytime!

The Only Friends Hostel business. We have business majors in this show, a rarity in Thai BL, and for their class project they're opening a hostel. Each member of the friend group has a business role to play--Ray provides the real estate, Mew takes on leadership of finances and accounting, Cheum provides PR, and Boston's tasked with creative direction--but the value of the individuals, their roles in the business, and their willingness to collaborate with one another is the tension that drives the series. The characterizations, dialogue, and events in the series ought to be viewed in light of this. Mew, for example, partners off with Top, who encroaches on the friends' trivia group to answer for them a question about Thailand's first hotel, The Oriental, which two Americans established for sailors in Bangkok shortly after the opening of the Kingdom of Siam to international trade in 1855 and later two Dutch business partners reestablished after a fire. A single answer links Top to the influx of Western capitalism in the form of a hotel in Thailand! To count up the economic references in Only Friends would take a massive spreadsheet.

Artistic Passions. Each boy in the Y.O.L.O. bar friend group is associated with one artistic medium. Boston with photography and visual arts more broadly, Ray with music, and Mew with books (lol there's a scene in the last episode in which the translation has Force use the word force in a sentence immediately followed by Book as Mew mentioning his "books"). These are the components of the television and film medium: visuals, sound, and writing. Their romantic entanglements are also colored by their preferred medium and the narrative styles associated with them. Boston has his sensual dark room developments *wink wink,* Ray hooks up with a musician to visit record stores and concerts like a romantic movie couple, Mew makes his ideal seme court him in bookstores and dates straight out of a BL romcom novel. Even Cheum’s girlfriend, April, makes indie movies that go over our token lesbian’s head.

Atom, Cheum, and Mew’s BL Fantasies. It’s not surprising Cheum’s not about those art house flicks. Her, her brother, and Mew all espouse some BL tropes with harmful consequences. The most blatant is Atom’s stated belief that he ‘turned gay’ because of Boston, which he’s corrected on, but Atom, Nick, and Mew all commit to the BL (and broader romance) trope of equating first affections with true love. And Cheum sorts the gay men of her life into simplified categories of red flags or green flags, predators or cinnamon buns. Not all BLs are so simplistic with their trope usage and characterizations, but Only Friends highlights damaging tendencies that occur in the genre and among its fans.

The Pairings. Speaking of fans, one of the key strategies for creating fan interest are the pairings. While not unique to the BL industry entirely—Hollywood’s been pairing actors for publicity and dollars from pretty early on—BL pairs have a pretty distinct flavor, and Only Friends’ casting takes advantage of that. For our pair associated with the most fluffy BL narratives, we have ForceBook, a CP only ever paired together who have known one another since kindergarten. The maturer second love romance goes to FirstKhao, who both worked in other pairings before landing in their current contractual partner relationship. The situationship to end all situationships goes to two actors who, at the time, were not in a CP, something that Jojo has specifically mentioned as relevant to his interests when casting.

The Boeing of it all. Named after a fucking airplane manufacturer, with multiple references to his dreams of traveling internationally (concerts with Sand), flight (he's working to be a airline attendant), and flightiness (both his flightiness toward his bf’s and his encouragement of others to fly away from their partners). In a show explicitly about the hospitality industry? In a genre dependent on international viewers??? In one name, we get such a fountain of economic insight!

Begin Again. In the finale episode, Ray tells Sand he always wanted to wander around listening to music like they did in Begin Again. In fact, Mew and Top’s silent disco moment plays homage to the same sequence. Begin Again, however, is not a romance, despite what the marketing and weak reviews (from critics who expected a swooning repeat of indie gem Once from its director) implied. Instead, Begin Again uses romantic expectations as a trojan horse for an insider portrait of the music industry as the streaming industry changed its operating models. The leads are Mark Ruffalo who plays a has-been alcoholic producer (an important reference to even better understand Ray’s role in the hostel business) and Kiera Knightly, playing a singer-songwriter betrayed by her rising star boyfriend (acted by Adam Levine from Maroon 5). Spoiler alert: If you imagine something more between Knightly and Ruffalo’s characters than the deep relationship creatives can form making art together, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Ruffalo’s character goes back to his ex-wife (a bad omen for SandRay stans since the characters spend the time preceding their romantic walk in the last episode arguing about whether they still have feelings for their exes). Knightly’s chanteuse gets her former boyfriend to apologize and sing her song without pop theatrics on stage but she chooses not to join him and stick to her own independent path. Importantly, the film by the end respects both the popular and auteur artistic sensibilities, reserving more ire for the business models. No one character or method is completely demonized or sanctified. I can’t help but recognize a similar spirit in the portrayal of the three gay romance narratives in Only Friends—Boston’s queer tragedy, Ray’s tear-jerking gay romantic drama, or Mew’s BL comedy. The show acknowledges the formative role of those storytelling modes in the BL industry and even touches on some economic realities of choosing one mode over another. Some exemplary dialogue from the Begin Again:

“I just think that an A&R [a record label’s artists and repertoire representative] man telling an artist how they should dress or come across is total bullshit. People don’t want that. They want authenticity”

“Authenticity! Give me the name of one artist that you think passes your authenticity test…I’m not saying you can’t be a real bona fide motherfucker in this business but you’ve got to do whatever it takes and get people in to see your shows where THE MUSIC can start to do its real work.”

Personal Hygiene Lessons. In the last two episodes, we witness Ray’s community service teaching children about hygiene. “Once upon a time…” he begins, which immediately alerts me to television writers depicting the act of storytelling. It’s a story attempting to encourage daily toothbrushing to protect from plaque, but Sand steps in and scares them with the threat of a bug crawling into their body if they don’t brush their teeth—suspiciously more similar to issues of sexual health than teeth brushing. The next clinic presentation is about washing out your nose. Either Thailand’s got some hygiene practices I don’t know about, or Jojo’s writing team snuck in a sneaky reference to douching. Watching, I was reminded that Jojo and his good friend and fellow director Aof Noppharnach (Bad Buddy, ATOTS, so many other huge GMMTV series!) began their careers writing and directing a series directly about sexual health for GayOK Bangkok, produced by an HIV testing organization. After the first presentation, Sand explains, “I’m approachable to all ages and genders,” a prime marketing demographic if I’ve ever heard one! Just like Sand, Aof, who is now the senior director of content production at GMMTV, has made inroads for himself and others into a massive market by developing a writing, directing, and producing strategy for integrating queer content (here’s my post about his recurring motifs around HIV treatment) within family-friendly BL shows, often with a romantic fairytale-like quality hearkening back to Ray’s “Once upon a time…”

The Politician. The parents included in the series have distinguished economic and political circumstances they're associated with. Bear with me on the political-economy history lessons here. Boston, most prominently, has a father running for political office, and we meet him for the first time while Boston's wearing a 1998 t-shirt, the year the Thai Rak Thai (Thais Love Thais) party was founded by Thaksin Shinawatra, telecom billionaire and Thailand's first prime minister to lead a democratically elected government through a full-term in office beginning in 2001. He led key initiatives to promote tourism, make healthcare accessible, and, controversially, crackdown on drugs. Essentially, he provided the vision for the government that kick-started Thailand's move to its current project of soft-power. In fact, his youngest daughter, Paetongtarn Shinawatra, (who describes herself as a "socially liberal capitalist") is the current prime minister partly responsible for overseeing the equal marriage bill into law. Thaksin was ousted by a military coup in 2006 following his family's decision to sell its shares in major Thai telecom group to a Singaporean company and, faced with corruption charges in 2008, lived in exile (until September 2023, less than a month after Only Friends started airing). Ousted for not playing his part in supporting a Thai business? Boston, is that you? There is also a comment in the first episode about the massage parlor Boston's father built his financial success off of, and there's a conversation to be had there about Thailand's Thaksin-led shift away from and crackdown on its sex tourism industry. (The Department for Communicable Disease Control shirt on Style's shirt in episode 3 of The Heart Killers is a government organization in Thailand, not Alabama as the shirt says, which among other things monitors direct sex workers for STDs.) How might a focus on constant financial and moral improvement harm those who fail sanctions against promiscuity? What I find so artful about Boston's potential linkage to Thaksin is how he's constructed as Thaksin's parallel--in his journey toward exile and the over-consumption that led him there--and his antithesis. Boston's the victim, at least in his emotional well-being, of a neoliberal legacy. Thaksin's policies, similar to those of Rudy Giuliani and his predecessors in NYC, promoted family-friendly tourism and industry growth by supporting the corporate partnerships and broken window policing to price out and criminalize those unconventional populations who had taken refuge or even just found themselves in these locales after being marginalized elsewhere. In the same vein, the privileging of monogamous pairing in both BL narratives and BL fan-service expectations serve important goals encouraging breadths of people to accept and embrace gay love socially and politically—Thailand’s upcoming marriage rights bill, more expansive than most western countries, certainly has the BL industry’s influence to thank. Without further input, however, they neglect queer experiences beyond the realm of the first love or marriage plot. They neglect greater issues of equity, compassion, and freedom due to each individual human being (both actors and the general population), which the LGBT population, among others, has historically had an intimate experience with being denied or limited.

Nick’s Digital Underworld. Nick’s our little tech wunderkind in OnlyFriends. His character fixes phones, hooks up cameras and recording equipment, makes digital campaign posters, you name it! And I personally love that he’s both a skeevy pathetic tech wizard and radiantly beautiful. His cute-factor almost lets us forget about his voyeuristic tendencies. He’s just a content enjoyer, and Boston loves creating content—he just doesn’t want himself recorded…So why doesn’t Nick just get off to some porn instead? Only Friends didn’t name itself so closely to the amateur adult content website for no reason! In fact, we got an OnlyFans reference in The Heart Killers episode 4. Imma have to thank this post for noticing an OnlyFans sign in the background of Addicted Heroin Th and pointing out that it’s illegal in Thailand, cuz I had never considered anything about the country’s pornography laws or internet censorship. I’ll try to restrain myself from blabbering too much about the history I found here and here, but the important part: Thaksin’s once again our guy kicking it off. The Thaksin government censorship focused heavily on antipornography and the 2006 military coup brought in a more Orwellian political flavor to the proceedings, both of which have basically proliferated with continuing regime changes. In 2020, mainly because of increased censorship of adult websites (which is a current global conservative trend—I’m looking at you Project 2025—so don’t hate on Thailand too much), Thailand dropped to the third-lowest tier of internet freedom, according to the company Comparitech (which focuses on cybersecurity and online privacy), only above North Korea, China, and Iran. Both content creators and consumers can have some harsh punishments under the laws. With that in mind, it’s hard to imagine Jojo’s team giving us Boston’s pornographic art and Nick’s digital pornographic consumption as mere character dressing. The fact that they are the two excluded from the friend group at the end, excluded from the local business, from acceptance! Meanwhile, having censored the “deviant” contingent out of the equation, romance is alive and well at the OnlyFans—I mean, Only Friends hostel. As one kind of gay content is uplifted, another is suppressed and banished. No, Boston and the pornography industry he seems to signify are not perfect, but neither are his friends, nor the entertainments and political-economies with which they’re equated.

Without too much moralizing, these are the sorts of observations and hypocrisies Only Friends highlights. In my reading, at least, it depicts these media and economic trends through its characters, allowing them to play out and contend with one another as they have in reality. Sometimes the allegorical tensions or pairing of genres and capital occurs in the dynamics between characters. Other times, as I pointed out with Boston and his Thaskin connection, the tension exists within a single character. These strategies allow the show to engage with political issues while under the government’s censorship laws, but this is also just what great literary political writing looks like! It speaks to its time, but it will stand much longer as simply a character-driven story about the contentions that arise between money, sex, love, and friendship. I cannot wait for Girl Rules to give us Jojo’s GL perspective on related issues and for Only Friends Dream On to explore this territory in the context of an actual BL production! Let the chaotic theorizing ensue!

#only friends #only friends the series #only friends meta #only friends dream on #girl rules the series #jojo tichakorn #thai bl #bostonnick #sandray #topmew #the heart killers #bl discourse #ofts #bl drama

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hbyrde36 · 5 months ago

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No Vacancy

Chapter 12: Checking Out

WC: 2983 | R: Explicit | CH: 12/12 | AO3 | COMPLETE!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

*STEVE*

Steve was a nervous wreck for the entire ride back to the motel after his interview. He’d gotten the job, just like he’d known he would. What he hadn’t expected was that they would ask him to start so soon.

As in, Monday morning, three days from now soon.

The elementary school’s main building had undergone massive renovations over the break, and they needed all hands on deck to make sure the classrooms, gym, and cafeteria were all set up and ready to go for the students on their first day back.

Thankfully, Steve had put in his notice with the city two weeks ago, and already worked his last shift as a lifeguard for this year. He hadn’t even told Eddie yet. It was meant to be a surprise, leaving them free to spend as much time as possible together, at least when the other man wasn’t working, before…

Well, just… before.

Before whatever happened next, happened next.

All this time Steve had been trying desperately not to jump to any conclusions. He’d been patient, giving Eddie space to figure out what he wanted to do without putting any pressure on him. From the moment they returned from their impromptu weekend in Hawkins he never brought it up again—was careful not to mention the future too much, or talk about school, or Fall, or Labor Day, the official unofficial end of the tourism season.

But each day that passed without Eddie coming to a decision made it harder and harder to not start assuming the worst. In Steve's mind, if Eddie was going to stay he’d have figured that out already and said so, wouldn’t he?

Then they’d had that mind blowing encounter in the walk-in at Eddie’s bar the other night. Bringing out completely different sides of each other in the most exquisite, intense, and incredible way. It had felt important somehow, Eddie sharing himself—giving himself to Steve in that way, falling apart so beautifully for him, trusting that Steve would put him back together again, the way Eddie always did for him.

As they’d come down, holding each other so tightly while sitting on that freezing cold floor, while he kissed the sweat from Eddie’s brow, Steve had been sure that was the moment, that Eddie would turn to him and say what he’d been waiting so anxiously to hear, but Eddie only told him he loved him, and when his legs stopped shaking had stood, helping Steve to his feet. They’d gone back to the party, as though nothing had changed, and Steve was forced to accept that maybe it hadn’t meant what he hoped. Maybe it had just been one last hurrah before Eddie told him he was moving on to his next adventure.

Steve stood outside the door to their motel room, the place he and Eddie had called home for the last two months, the place Steve would soon be calling home permanently once he made the trek back to Hawkins to pack up his old place, and dreaded going inside.

He knew Eddie would be in there waiting for him. The other man was off for the night and the two of them were supposed to go out with Chrissy and Robin later. Steve really didn’t want to ruin their evening before it had begun, or burst the carefully formed bubble they’d been happily floating in, but his Summer was over come Monday morning. They were running out of time, and he had to talk to Eddie about it as soon as possible.

Stepping quietly inside, Steve was surprised to find the room seemingly empty. He’d expected Eddie to be laid out on his bed, watching one of those so-bad-it’s-good horror movies that always seem to be on cable in the middle of the day, but he was nowhere in sight.

Steve was about to leave, figuring his boyfriend must be down at the office harassing Chrissy, when he heard Eddie’s voice speaking softly nearby.

The bathroom light was on, its door open a crack, something Steve hadn’t noticed with his mind so preoccupied with worry, and he could just see Eddie through the small gap standing in there, looking at himself in the mirror, and talking to himself.

No, not just talking to himself.

Eddie was rehearsing.

Rehearsing a speech… to Steve.

“Steve, I know…” Eddie paused, shaking his head at his own reflection. “No, no.”

Steve crept closer, careful to avoid a spot on the floor he knew tended to creak underfoot so as not to give himself away.

Eddie cleared his throat roughly before taking a deep breath and starting again. “Stevie, I'm sure you’ve been wondering…”

With an adorable little growl Eddie cut himself off again, gripping the edge of the vanity tight as he prepared to give it another go. “Get it together, Munson.”

Steve threw a hand over his own mouth to stifle a snort. He felt a little bad for listening in, and thought about announcing himself or coughing to alert Eddie to his presence, but his curiosity got the best of him and he remained quiet, desperate to know whether the love of his life was preparing to make him the happiest man alive, or working out the best way to let him down easy.

“Baby,” Eddie began, his voice suddenly sounding rough, as though his throat were tight with what he had to say. “I’ve spent the last few weeks doing what you asked, really thinking about what it would mean to stay here with you. To put down roots for once. To build a life with you—a real one that we make together on purpose. A relationship that doesn’t end or change when the season does. I worried for a while that I wasn’t ready. That neither of us were, really. That it was too new, too fast, too soon for all this. That it would burn hot for a while but end up just a flash in the pan…”

Eddie paused, hanging his head, letting out a huff of wry laughter.

“But, as has been pointed out by everyone with eyeballs, you’ve always had a piece of my heart, even when I wasn’t ready to admit it, and if what a certain little birdie told me is true then I think—maybe I’ve always had a piece of yours too?”

“Eddie,” Steve gasped softly before he could stop himself, and Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes comically wide as they met Steve’s through his reflection in the mirror.

“So you probably heard all that, huh?” Eddie said after a long moment frozen in shock. He shook his head, lips curling up into a shy smile. “Man, I really gotta start paying more attention to my surroundings before I run my mouth.”

Steve pushed the bathroom door open slowly and stepped inside the small space. “I’m sorry, I-I shouldn't have eavesdropped… again.”

Not that it had been his fault the last time, for the record.

“Don’t be. The words were meant for you anyway, and who knows if I'd have been able to get the whole speech out if we were face to face.” Eddie turned away from the sink to face him. “You do have quite the history of distracting me.”

“Does this mean…” Steve started to ask but couldn’t quite get the question out.

“Yes, I’m staying right here.” Eddie said with no hesitation. “I’m so gone on you, sweetheart, and we both know I’ve never been one to think of the future much before, but, god—now I can’t imagine one without you in it.”

“Are you sure?”

Closing the distance between them, Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands. “Christ, baby. You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you? I actually can't believe I'm going to say this, but I've never meant anything more—if it was legal, and also not completely fucking insane after such a short time together, I'd probably ask you to marry me.”

Steve grinned, his vision blurring as tears sprang to his eyes. He reached up to cover Eddie’s hands with his own and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’d probably say yes.”

Their double date that night wound up being a huge celebration all around. Robin and Chrissy were thrilled, and visibly relieved, to learn that Eddie had worked up the courage to admit what he wanted and commit, even if it had come out while Steve was listening in secret like a creep—in Robin’s words.

The details didn’t matter, if anything it only meant more to Steve knowing those had been Eddie’s unguarded thoughts.

The girls had their own good news to share too. After meeting Tracey at Chrissy’s party and getting a little friendly advice from the older woman, the two of them sat down together, wrote out a new business plan, and finally got approval for their sorely needed loan. Enough to get the past-due bills paid, boost their advertising, and get through the Winter if they were careful.

Steve and Eddie left for Hawkins the next morning. Dan was happy enough to let Eddie off for a few days once he learned his favorite bartender would be staying on year-round if they wanted him.

They did.

With Wayne’s help they managed to get all of Steve's belongings packed up and shoved into the back of Eddie's van in a little over a day, dragging the old furniture he was leaving behind out to the curb for anyone passing by to take for free.

It was strange to think he was finally leaving Hawkins for good. They’d come back to town as often as they could to visit Eddie’s uncle, of course, but this place would no longer be Steve’s home—and thank fuck for that.

Wayne saw them off bright and early Sunday morning from the trailer, after convincing Eddie to pack up and take the rest of his own things along with them too, or at least whatever would fit in the BMW’s trunk for now, since he was “finally settling down” and all. Eddie had rolled his eyes dramatically, but Steve knew the move was only meant to disguise the way they’d gone all glassy when Wayne hugged him and told him how proud he was of the man Eddie was growing into.

They returned home, finding the girls offering to move them into a different unit in the motel. Steve was hesitant at first, saddened by the idea of saying goodbye to the place where it had all begun, to the four walls and two very well-worn mattresses that held so many memories. But their new place was on the ground floor, a little bigger than their original room, and had a king size bed. It was also closer to Robin and Chrissy’s room—though not too close, because after Robin overheard them going at it that one time she swore she’d kick them both out or leave herself if she ever had to hear Steve shouting Eddie’s name that way again.

Steve couldn't even argue, he knew he was loud.

Maybe he’d ask Eddie to start gagging him.

In the coming months he and Eddie fell into life together with natural ease, though it wasn’t completely without struggle. They hardly ever fought, and when they did it was almost always because they simply missed each other. Still working on fairly opposite schedules, it wasn’t unusual for them to go several days without seeing each other during daylight hours. In the end Eddie decided to stop working Sunday nights. The tips weren’t worth missing the time they could spend together on Steve’s weekends off, and Sundays became couple days. Sacred time for just the two of them to do whatever they wanted. To laze around in bed, fucking sweet and slow for hours on end, or go on dinner dates, or see a movie. An entire day every week completely devoted only to each other.

In their separate off time, they both did what he could to help Robin and Chrissy out around the motel. Once he’d proved himself, Steve took on the role of handyman and wouldn’t take a dime for his services, while Eddie took on the task of delivering the Buckingham’s newly designed brochures to every visitor's center and rest stop on the east coast within driving distance.

Their combined hard work paid off, and by the time Spring rolled around the motel’s future was looking bright, their reservations list as fully booked up for the coming tourist season as Robin and Chrissy had pretended they were the year before.

It was late in the morning on Saturday, and Steve was busy installing a new air conditioning unit in the lobby, the temperature outside already reaching unbearable levels some days though it was only June first, when Robin asked him to come into Chrissy’s office for a minute.

Eddie was already in there with the two girls, looking just as confused and mildly concerned as Steve felt. It wasn’t unheard of for the four of them to meet like this to go over what tasks needed to be done around the motel and divide them up accordingly, but Chrissy and Robin looked particularly nervous. It wasn’t a good sign. Steve didn’t understand, he was so sure that things were going well.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, leaning down to drop a kiss on Eddie's lips before sliding into the seat next to him, their hands coming together automatically, fingers laced where they hung between the two chairs.

Robin bit her lip, sharing a loaded look with Chrissy before turning back to answer him. “Listen, we may have, possibly, made a mistake with the bookings—again.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he glared at the two girls.

“For real this time!” Chrissy added quickly.

“Okay, well, we’re already bunking together so I don’t know what—” Steve began, but Robin cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“I’m glad you asked, dingus.”

Steve frowned. “I didn’t—”

“We were thinking maybe, just for the Summer, that all four of us could share the two bedroom me and Chrissy are in.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open. He and Eddie both sat in stunned silence for a moment before exchanging matching horrified glances with each other.

Suddenly Robin burst out laughing, practically doubled over as her body shook with it. “Oh my god, your faces are priceless! I wish I had a camera.”

“Oh, you were kidding. That’s a relief,” Steve said, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Of course I was kidding.” Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Do you honestly think I would voluntarily subject myself to three months of sharing walls, let alone a bathroom, with the two of you?!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It was one time! Are you ever going to let it go?”

“Pay for my future therapy and we’ll call it even.”

“Done.”

Steve thrust his free hand out and Robin stepped forward to shake it.

“Okay, so… what, this whole thing was a joke?” Eddie asked.

Robin shook her head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

Chrissy leaned forward, raking a hand down her face. “I’ve already had to tell several callers this morning that we were full up for their travel dates. We’re extremely overbooked, and Robin and I were sort of hoping you guys might be open to the idea of moving out to free up space?”

“Like, as soon as possible,” Robin added.

“Wait, what?!” Steve shouted.

“Yeah! Isn’t it great?”

“Robin!”

Eddie’s grip tightened reassuringly, drawing Steve’s attention back as he raised their clasped hands to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss over Steve's knuckles. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I think I know just the place for us.”

It turned out that Eddie had been eyeing up a slightly run down but adorable little cottage on his way to and from work every day for the last few months. Its windows had been boarded up all through Winter, the property overgrown and appearing abandoned, but a few weeks ago a for rent sign had appeared by the mailbox out of the blue, and Eddie admitted to letting his imagination run wild over the possibilities.

They called the number on the sign and scheduled a viewing for as soon as possible.

The small three bedroom bungalow didn't look like much from the outside, or the inside for that matter, but Eddie was right, it was easy to see the potential.

Steve could already picture the gardens he might plant. There was plenty of room to grow tomatoes and herbs in the backyard, and great big rose bushes would look amazing in the front, their color peaking brightly out from between the slats of an honest to god white picket fence. There was even an old wooden arbor perched over the walkway just begging for some ivy to grow over it.

The inside needed some serious updating. He wasn’t convinced the ancient appliances even worked anymore, but it was cozy, with so much character, and most importantly it had three bedrooms. One for them, one to double as an office and a place for Eddie’s books and guitars to live, and the last for Wayne.

Because Steve had fallen in love with this place at first sight, just like Eddie did. He already knew that the moment they had the money for a down payment they’d stop renting and offer to buy the place. And if Steve had anything to say about it, Eddie’s Uncle would always have a room in their forever home, a soft place to land should he ever need, or want it, just like he’d always made sure Eddie had.

And they lived happily ever after, until gay marriage was legalized in their state. Then Eddie did propose, got down on one knee and everything right there on the beach by their beautiful home. Steve said yes, and they finally got married, and lived even more happily ever after as husbands. The end.

All my thanks and love to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend, and cheerleader.

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@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

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#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #no vacancy #90's beach motel au #no upside down au

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packandgotourism · 1 year ago

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Himalayan Highs: An Adventure Seeker's Journey Beyond Boundaries

Embark on a thrilling adventure that pushes boundaries and calls out to the daring souls yearning for the extraordinary. Located amidst the stunning Himalayan mountain range, this journey promises an unmatched experience, featuring awe-inspiring vistas, challenging landscapes and a singular sense of spiritual harmony.

Embarking on the Adventure:

The Himalayas provide an adventurous playground that is unlike any other. Just picture yourself standing at the foothills, with the fresh mountain air filling your lungs as you look up at the sky-reaching peaks. This marks the beginning of an expedition that will challenge your boundaries while simultaneously providing you with breathtaking views at every step.

Navigating the Terrain:

The Himalayas are renowned for their diverse landscapes, ranging from lush green valleys to barren, snow-capped peaks. To embark on this journey, you'll need to select your mode of transportation carefully. Opting for a low-cost budget-fitting car rental in Siliguri will ensure that you have a reliable companion on the winding mountain roads that lead to the heart of the Himalayas. The car will not only serve as a means of transportation, but it will also play a significant role in your overall experience.

As you drive through the beautiful countryside, every twist and turn reveals new treasures. The rugged terrain demands a reliable rental car that can navigate the challenging paths. It's important to choose a reputable rental company so that you can focus on your adventure and not worry about the dependability of your vehicle. Your goal should be to conquer the heights, not to fret about your transportation.

A Budget-Friendly Expedition:

If you're worried about the cost of your Himalayan adventure, there are ways to plan it without spending a fortune. By using the right resources and planning ahead, you can embark on a fantastic journey without breaking the bank. In Siliguri, there are low-cost car rental options available that allow you to explore the Himalayas at your own pace and within your budget.

Moreover, making wise choices when it comes to accommodations and dining, paired with a good understanding of the local area, can make your vacation both cost-effective and authentic. By immersing yourself in the mountain lifestyle and embracing the local culture, you can enhance your experience without overspending.

Consider connecting with 'Pack and Go Tourism' services to enhance your Himalayan adventure. These providers often offer customized packages that combine accommodations, transportation, and adventure activities. With this option, you can save time and benefit from the expertise of professionals who know how to navigate the complexities of the Himalayan region.

The Spiritual Connection:

Embarking on a trek in the Himalayas provides a transformative spiritual connection, in addition to physical challenges and breathtaking surroundings. The serenity of ancient monasteries perched on mountain peaks, the delicate prayer flags swaying in the breeze, and the mystical atmosphere that permeates the air all contribute to an extraordinary experience.

To sum up, Himalayan adventures are not just about conquering peaks; they are about surpassing personal barriers, immersing oneself in the grandeur of nature, and discovering inner peace in the heart of the mountains. Your trip to the Himalayas awaits, with a budget-friendly car rental service in Siliguri and the guidance of 'Pack and Go Tourism,' a journey beyond borders for the adventurous spirit in you.

#pack and go tourism #adventure #travel blog #best places to travel #traveling #road trip #travel photography #tourism #tourist

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allthegeopolitics · 6 months ago

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On a tiny island off Panama’s Caribbean coast, about 300 families are packing their belongings in preparation for a dramatic change. Generations of Gunas who have grown up on Gardi Sugdub in a life dedicated to the sea and tourism will trade that next week for the mainland’s solid ground. They go voluntarily — sort of. The Gunas of Gardi Sugdub are the first of 63 communities along Panama’s Caribbean and Pacific coasts that government officials and scientists expect to be forced to relocate by rising sea levels in the coming decades.

#world news #panama #climate change #rising sea levels

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raisindave · 1 month ago

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[Chapter 77] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Desertion is a lot easier than you'd expect. You were never one for skipping school, but there's something of a rush to it. Like you're in a place you're not allowed to be, all while being exactly where you're supposed to be. Of course, these consequences are a little more dire than skipping math class in high school; you're abandoning your post. Desertion is a crime punishable by dishonourable discharge or worse. But how does that charge fare when you aren't even actively deployed to begin with? Where's the dishonour in acting on your own free will as an unbound, non-working citizen? Laswell never specifically said your vacation had to take place in that hotel.

Luckily for you, tickets to California are easy to come by in Korea. Tourism and business go hand in hand between the two nations, and express flights seem to be given out like candy. Luckier yet, it doesn't have to be a round trip. The ATM let you take out the cash you'd use to pay for your ticket, and the lady at the desk didn't even lift her gaze when she took the envelope. Only thumbing through the stack and flipping a boarding pass into your palm.

Security was tougher than you remember; you'd become so used to express personnel travel due to being on some internationally recognized task force. You aren't operating under the borrowed trust organizations like the SAS get when it comes to airport security. Now, you're subject to beeping wands and plastic trays for your shoes. The sky was dark and full of stars out the slanted windows, and in the beaming glint of your phone, you chose to preemptively activate the airplane mode, settling with anxiously tapping your feet in anticipation for your row to be called.

A plain hoodie and sweats will help you blend in, filling in shoulder-to-shoulder with hoodies and suit jackets alike onto a broad, carpeted fuselage. There are no grey-green woven hammocks to sling your packs, substituted with tidy cabin cubbies that keep your black backpack out of view. Bench-like iron seats were replaced by cushioned upholstered recliners, if you can call them recliners, with seatback displays that read as surreal compared to what you're used to. Stewardesses with colourful neckties pour bubbling drinks in a thimble-sized plastic cup. Do they pin you as someone who'd committed desertion? Do they recognize the scruff of someone in the military? Or does this casual hoodie and groggy disposition sell the story? None of them seem to notice, pushing their rattling carts down the aisle to pawn more thimble-sized cups to the next guest.

If you're honest with yourself, you were never really in tune with pop culture even before your deployment, but its absence suddenly sparked interest in your heart. Third installments of movies you'd never even heard of, it's like pop culture had been on pause. Flicking through the categories, you'd settle for anything. Anything but a romance, as your finger hovered over a cheesy poster of a woman embracing a towering man in black with a waterfall of red silk around her, turned to the camera with a wicked, knowing grin. A mocking grin that tinged your eyes misty. They were both looking at you through the screen, taunting you like they'd won, satisfied by your deficiency of their connection. They knew they had what you'd tasted that once. You ran away, and they stayed, and look how happy they are. You clicked away, you had to. Clicked off the pixelated poster to some shitty action movie that you could surrender to a couple hours of violent oblivion.

At some point, you somehow fell asleep to all the gunfire and explosions rattling through those cheap headphones. Maybe that's an indication of a larger issue. Either way, a dinging seatbelt light altered you to an upcoming landing, and just like that, you were in home territory. Something about this career makes the world feel so small. After all, you're always only a few hours away from anywhere in the world if you really think about it. It makes you think about that first flight you made this way, that first flight over the Yellow Sea that brought you to that snowy bunker where you met this gaggle of Brits. That cake Soap and Gaz made you as an apology. How intimidated you were of Ghost. Those nukes you confiscated and the look Price gave you when he realized your potential. It stung your heart with a bittersweet twang of humour.

Even the air in the bustling airport feels familiar. Luckily, you have no luggage to check. Yellow taxis sit like ducks in neat rows along multi-lane streets; an unfriendly-looking cab driver didn't blink twice when you slipped in the back seat and blurted out a street address you were surprised you remembered. Joints ached from travel, and your temples seized from the change in the climate. It'll take you some time to climatize, but it's nothing you're not used to doing. Only now did it occur to you what the rest of your group might be thinking. Had they noticed? You had the benefit of the doubt that you'd just retired for an early night's rest, you had a solid 8-hour lead. How long would it take them to notice you'd slinked away? They're probably off to that task with Farah Soap mentioned, and Laswell's likely in tow with her nose in a folder and a puffy vest on her shoulders.

You're in the cab on your way home, and now there's one thing left to do. Knowing him, Chucky's the kind of guy who'll answer any unknown caller's number without a second thought— as psychopathic as that is. The contact your friend provided sat in your text messenger, a line of blue numbers just a tap away. With your stomach in a knot, you pressed your thumb to the glass, and the screen went dark. Lifting the device to your ear, it rang, and rang, and rang, until a familiar voice grumpily answered, and you weepily blubbered out a response.

When he recognized your voice, you could hear the sound of the chair he was in creak as he shot upright, and you showered each other in greetings and praise. You were only a few minutes into complaining about work, telling the story in chronological order as best you could without compromising any secretive details. Babbling on about your lack of recognition, your tedious tasks, and your unsettling vacation to the tune of a rattling speaker playing pop music from the driver up front. The more you speak, the more agitated you became. Spewing rants about duties and frustrations and extreme expectations for no reward, heaving to catch your breath as the windows misted around you when all of a sudden, his stern tone snapped you out of your trance, and for a moment, you blinked in confusion.

"Do you hear yourself, Lua?"

His words stunned you for a moment, pressing your phone closer to your ear as if you didn't hear him right. A breathy laugh from the speaker made your face contort into a frustrated cringe. How can he laugh at you right now?

"Lua, the answer is obvious, but you won't want to hear it," he spoke past through a smile, you could just hear it through the phone.

"What do you mean obvious?"

Now he'd gone silent in a cruel twist of fate. Even still, it was like he was stifling a laugh behind that speaker as if he saw something blatantly visible to anyone but you.

"My love, do you think this career is right for you?

That sentence stunned you. So much so that you could feel the humid air dance over your teeth from your agape mouth. You squinted in confusion, and then your mouth twisted into a laugh. The words registered as cohesive, but the absurdity clicked more plainly.

"I can't just quit because I'm not getting a kiss on the forehead every time I do my job," you started, twirling the pull-string of your hoodie around your finger.

"Is that how you really feel?"

The cabin had run so silent even the cab driver's eyes flickered to meet yours through the rearview mirror.

"It's okay to admit you're not satisfied," Chucky's voice grew soft and paternal. "Settling with something that makes you miserable is giving up, not the act of dropping it. Demand respect for yourself because you're the only one who will. That's life."

"What am I supposed to do then? The military is my whole identity…"

"You don't have to know all the answers right away, just work with what you know."

"What will they do without me? I can't just drop out on a dime," your voice cracked, inexplicably closing your throat as a wall of repressed emotions surfaced.

"The military is like a wall… remove one brick, and the wall still stands. There's no shortage of linguists in NATO."

“SAS… or…CIA, I think."

"CIA? Aren't you RCAF?" he spoke into the slightly echoed sound of what must be a mug of coffee.

"It's complicated… I stopped asking questions long ago."

"'Seems like you should know that kind of thing," he sounded irritated by your laissez-faire attitude.

"It's hard to sit down and ask about your professional affiliations when you're dressed up as a hooker on a mob yacht," the words oozed past your lips into the device, a lullaby you'd told yourself for years to keep yourself sane.

"What?"

An uncomfortable pause had wedged itself into the conversation. A pause, you didn't have the wherewithal to unravel the necessary context to make that sentence make sense to him. The musty air in the cabin made your blood run thick and lethargic.

"I just can't wait to be home. I need to see something that's authentic."

"There's something else."

"Hm?" you humm absentmindedly.

"You wouldn't come tearing home in a tizzy over an overdue vacation."

The words wouldn't manifest. Not only on your lips but not in your brain either. The taxi's bobbing over potholes fought for your attention as the cabin's rhythm rattled your brain. What if Ghost thinks you're quitting because of your little spat? Well, that's part of it… well, that's a significant portion of it, but in reality it's just a branch from the same roots: overworked, unacknowledged, isolated and indolent. This isn't what you signed up for. It's not what you're honed for. Months of mantras carefully hummed to yourself in iambic pentameter that twist your experience into something sweeter than it is—distorting your own honest perception. For what? Your teammates? A sense of greater good? What's kept you complacent enough to persist?

"I-" a sigh forced itself into your lungs. "Let's have a sit-down and chat about this… I'll be home in ten."

Chucky's never been the kind of guy you can keep secrets from. Worst yet, the longer you know him, the better he gets at sussing out the slightest lie in a story. He's observant. It's annoying. There are some things he doesn't have to know, some relationships and drama that he doesn't have to be privy to. But he pries it from you nonetheless, and the kicker is that it always feels relieving to unburden yourself. Even if it isn't something you would've come forward about willingly. It's not a matter of if but when he finds out about your dilemma with Ghost. Maybe he doesn't have to be privy to everything about that relationship.

Your eyes drifted to the lawns around your neighbourhood. Yours had been kept up with, some HOA or other had been strongarmed into handling it by the powers-that-be. Lawns… when's the last time you'd seen a lawn? When's the last time you'd seen a minivan? A cul-de-sac? It felt alien to be alien, like you're not supposed to be out of place here. Soon enough, Chucky will come barging through your door with a multicoloured bouquet, and you'll think about how they don't look cheap anymore, but like they're exploding with joy- innocent glee like that from the eyes of a lover, not those of a fighter. Except he is a fighter. He'd served longer than you, and he has the wisdom of age with the compassion of experience. Maybe you won't have to quit after all, and this reset will knock your gears back into line. Smoother than ever. You'll don that uniform and slip back into Laswell's graces. Send her a text that you're on your way back after a night or two in your own bed. It's not like she won't know you've left; you're not sly enough to outfox her. Yet.

Eventually the taxi dropped you off, wordlessly passing the payment terminal and tearing off without another word. When you get in your house, you'll have a world of cleaning to expect. And you were right. From what you remember, the familiar squeal of your front door had reached a new octave, but that's expected, welcoming, from ages of not being used. It's like a dog squealing with excitement to welcome you home, a tune exclusive to your ears. Mail crunched under your sneakers, a perfect shoeprint over flyers and coupons now months expired.

The air was thick with dust, thicker the more you stirred. The distantly familiar routine didn't take long to resurface in your synapses, flinging your coat around wiry hangers, kicking off rigid new sneakers to lay at its base. Dead plants lay in coiled husks like rooted tumbleweeds, sunbleached and stark. From the look of things, your work is cut out for you. Do you dust, vacuum, or start with a dustpan and broom? It's the kind of plights you craved. The kinds you missed out on. Sure, it's gross, and clouds of dust erupt from wads of blankets when you sit on your couch, but a familiar smell brought sugar-sweet memories to coat the back of your eyelids.

The fridge was what you dreaded most. Did you leave anything in there? It's probably so mouldy it's become sentient by now. Before you left, you did some cooking before you were deployed again, as far as you can remember. And the couch sure is comfortable once you get past the powdery dust that gathers between your knuckles. Anticipation got the better of you though, and curiosity bubbled beyond your own containment. Your knees creaked when you rose, but you eventually made your way to the kitchen. Maybe you can guilt Chucky into helping you clean, but at the very least, you should tidy up a place to sit and spill your guts about how you may or may not have briefly fallen head-over-heels with your lieutenant, or something of the sort.

There's that wooden archway you'd bodyslammed into on dozens of drunken nights, paired with a few dents that were consequences of lazily carrying a laundry basket. Through the arch, you beheld a sight so bizarre you couldn't even compel your muscles to draw you closer. But you did. Sat on your counter surrounded by a level ocean of dust sat a vase. A crystal vase, ridged and etched with lavish geometric patterns cast ribbons of light through the lacy curtain across the room. Green stems, straight and trimmed, connected to the most elegant bouquet. Virgin blue roses in perfect coils, fragrant enough to reach you before you could touch them. It felt like a dream, but your senses deceived you. Their cobalt finish challenged your optical perceptions and upended all logic. Velvety petals, smooth and light as your fingertips drag through them. Panic. These hollowed grounds you'd called home aren't safe. This sacred place is corrupted. It's a sickening, nauseating panic. Like the antichrist in a cathedral. Like a wolf in a pasture. Sickening anticipation and your heels turn on a swivel. By the time your knees lowered into a grounding stance, those familiar redwood floors were screaming toward you, and everything went silent.

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the-gateway-to-madness · 11 months ago

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It sorta bothers me that post-series people are still complaining about 3Below being disconnected from the rest of Tales of Arcadia. For me, it was a refreshing break from the densely-packed fantasy lore and an intriguing peek at the way the universe beyond Arcadia and Earth functions. I liked the character arcs and interpersonal connections. And there was ample room for me to come up with a bunch of my own headcanons, which I love! I absolutely love being able to slot pieces of my own mind and soul into an existing world! I don't like shows where I'm told how every little detail works, that's way too much to remember. Instead I want enough to create an idea of the rules and how things might have gone/might continue to go and fill in whatever else I want.

Also, I think 3Below was SUPPOSED to be a lot more connected before Wizards got cut down. Tons of ideas didn't make it into the limited series run- I remember hearing stuff about Mordred being involved, a lost Krel arc, and I'm sure a lot of lore that would have bound the worlds together more closely. When they mentioned Gaylen's core came from Earth, there was clearly supposed to be more to that, but it got cut out. I'm like 93% sure Gaylen was a being who was part of or similar to the Arcane Order, but was drawn to the cosmos rather than to a part of the Earth. That would indicate that Akiridion tech and magic are compatible because Akiridions' energy-based life was initially magical, but those roots were largely forgotten because of how old a civilization Akiridion is. They've been spacefaring since humans were cavepeople. If the Order existed from the primeval dawn of the world, and Gaylen left not long after that, Akiridion could be millenia ahead of Earth. Or, heck, maybe Earth was the first or only livable world, and Gaylen created the Order to look after it before going off to try to find or create life elsewhere. I always headcanoned that Seklos was more powerful than most Akiridions or even the Royals that came after her, given the fact her core alone was enough to stop Gaylen while in the modern era it requires two royal cores. Maybe she was created by Gaylen to be Akiridion's version of an Arcane Order type being, and she created normal Akiridions, which she then had kids with, diluting her power in the Royals that followed. There's so much ancient history to unpack from just the tidbits we were given.

As for the modern era, there seems to very distinctly be a major intergalactic connection. The drunk ship operator in episode 3 of 3b s1 that the Zerons interrogate talks about ship classifications, which indicates a universal or at least an interplanetary system of ship ratings. We also see interplanetary tourism, and signs that Akiridion is one of the most advanced and influential planets out there.

3Below doesn't need to continue the plot of Trollhunters to be a valid part of Tales of Arcadia. It brought an energy to ToA that was somewhere between Star Trek TNG and Babylon 5, and I love how it expands the weirdness of Arcadia. If it was supposed to be a continuation of Trollhunters, they would have made more Trollhunters. But it's not Trollhunters, it's 3Below. And Wizards isn't Trollhunters either! I honestly think that Camelot, Douxie, and the world of wizards could have been written such that the Trollhunters cast was much less focal, and that if they'd given the show the time it needed and deserved to tell its story, it would have been fleshed-out and fascinating all on its own, with or without the TH gang. Where are the magic users beyond the reach of Camelot? Are there merfolk, sirens, harpies, dryads, more dragons, or other sapient races living on Earth with their own civilizations and magic and cultures? There are so many worlds and so many potential stories out there, on Earth and beyond, in the Tales of Arcadia universe. Arcadia just happens to be the narrative meshing point of them all. And I think that's a really cool way to build a universe.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk, here's more Akiridion development as a treat for making it this far.

#Tales of Arcadia #3below tales of arcadia #trollhunters tales of arcadia #wizards tales of arcadia #toa #jim lake jr #toby domzalski #jim lake junior #toa trollhunters #claire nunez #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa wizards #trollhunters #toa 3below #3below #krel tarron #aja tarron

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30sims4ever · 20 days ago

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Willow Creek - 30+ Sims4Ever Save File

Lore

There has always been a rivalry between San Sequoia and its smaller cousin, Willow Creek. Mostly friendly, it has included sports rivalries, festivals, and contests, but it has recently spilled over into the political arena as well. As a result of the mayor of San Sequoia passing more favorable tax bills for businesses, most of the major industries have deserted the small city for the bustling metropolis. The biggest industry left in Willow Creek is tourism, and even that is beginning to fade.Desperate to revitalize the city, the mayor relaxes several local restrictions to allow more fishing and restart the previously decommissioned riverboats. Meanwhile, he heavily advertises to the movie industry, leading to a surge in movie tourism after a major period drama is filmed there. The movie shoot itself isn’t without issues. The leading man goes missing for nearly 48 hours, causing the crew to panic and eventually call in the local sheriff, who finds the star in a compromising position with a young waitress.Overall, the plan works, and Willow Creek begins to distinguish itself as a destination, but the costs are high. The historic downtown area is cleaned up but also gentrified, and many workers can’t afford to live nearby, being pushed to the outskirts of Newcrest. The fishing and riverboats have brought in tourists but also gangs of environmental protesters, angry at the pollution and habitat destruction. But hey, the money has been good, and construction on the mayor’s new estate has finally finished.

Unit 1:

Unit 2:

Unit 3:

Unit 4: Chamberlain

Kiersten Chamberlain, yes of THOSE Chamberlains, has led a charmed and carefree life. A little too carefree life it seems. Her latest antics have caused Daddy to cut her off. She had enough of her allowance for the month left to cover the first, last, and deposit on a place at Garden Essence Townhomes, but she's not got much left. Now she's got to find a job and learn to make it in this world on her own.

Traits: High Maintenance Snob Lazy Aspirations: Leader of the Pack Career: Unemployed for now.

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Unit 5: Brower

After years of barely making it, Brandon and Cierra have spent their nestegg buying the Garden Essences Townhomes. Now the 6 of them are crammed into a 3 bedroom apartment and Brandon is juggling being a landlord and a Code Monkey in between a wild toddler, a vocal, troublemaking dog, and a teen who wants to be everyone's friend, Cierra's got her hands full just keeping the home going. Young Elena just wishes she could find some peace and quiet to keep up on her studies.

Traits: Brandon - Geek, Childish, Loyal Cierra - Love Outdoors, Erratic, Active Brock - Outgoing, Insider Elena - Practice Makes Perfect Brittanie - Wild Goldie - Friendly, Troublemaker, Vocal Aspirations: Brandon - Computer Whiz Cierra - Bodybuilder Brock - Friend of the World Elena - Mind & Body Career: Brandon - Tech Guru - Code Monkey (Lvl3) Cierra - Stay at Home Mom Brock - Manual Laborer

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Unit 1: Havili

Angelo “Angel” and Reyna “Rey” Havili were born identical twins. Estranged from their family, they live together in an apartment taking on the world together. Angel is transmasc and a computer nerd, he wants to get into programming/gaming/computer science and is a bit of a neat freak. Rey is more of a free spirit who wants to become a musician, she’s very kind hearted but is a bit of a slob and steal’s Angel’s clothes all of the time which drives him insane. Despite sometimes getting on each other’s nerves, they have a close relationship. "Bean", full name Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Pink Little Paws Beankitty, was a stray Rey found by a dumpster and took her in without consulting Angel. At first he was mad and wanted the cat gone, but now they’re not-so-secretly the best of friends.

Traits: Angel: Practice Makes Perfect, Geek, Neat Rey: Generous, Party Animal, Slob Bean: Clever, Affectionate, Playful Aspirations: Angel: Computer Whiz Rey: Musical Genius Careers: Angel: Quality Assurance Rey: Amateur Entertainer

Unit 2: Caldwell

Jasmine is known around the neighborhood for favoring ensembles in one jewel tone and having multiple articles of clothing she's knit/sewn of her cats, and also knits sweaters for her cats. When you get past her wardrobe and obsession love for her fur babies, she's a great mentor and holds a lot of wisdom. She also kinda speaks to ghosts some times.

Jasmine: Wise, Cheerful, Cat lover Walter: Aloof, free spirit, skittish Gretchen: Glutton, Lazy, Affectionate Franklin: Clever, Playful, Curious Aspirations:Friend of the Animals Careers: None/retired(edited)

Unit 3: Rossi

A single mom to Luna, the father is not in the picture. Sharing a single bedroom apartment with a baby crib wasn't how she pictured her early adulthood, but now she's willing to do anything to provide a good life for Luna. Her experience with the bio father has left her romantically reserved, but she remains hesitantly hopeful she'll find someone to be a true father to Luna.

Traits: Family-Oriented, Loyal, Romantically Reserved Aspirations: Super Parent Careers: Sofia: Substitute Teacher

Unit 4: Williams

Unit 5: empty

Unit 6: empty

Novak Family

Meet the Novak family: Luke, Paulette, baby Starla and faithful doggie Donna. Luke and Paulette work hard to make means to an end. After their hometown of Willow Creek was the home of a movie set, Paulette's gotten her eyes up for acting - will the small town family life be enough for her and her big dreams?

Traits: Luke: Erratic, socially awkward, family oriented, outdoor lover Paulette: Lovebug, ambitious, gloomy, outgoing Starla: intense Aspiration: Luke: Big happy family Paulette: Master actress Careers: Luke: Backhoe operator (manual laborer) Paulette: Sales floor clerk (retail employee)

Ryder

Ryder loves developing different skills. His high school obsession with video games got him a scholarship to UBrite. Now freshly graduated with an Honors Fine Arts degree, he nabbed a job as a set painter in Willow Creek's burgeoning film industry. With a new house that's all his, a new gym membership, and a new interest in gardening and juice fizzing, He's got plenty to fill his time. Maybe learning to dress will come later.

Traits: Practice Makes Perfect, Creative, Geek Aspirations: Painter Extraordinaire Career : Master of the Real

Horne Residence

After being promoted to VP at her job, Bethenny's realized money isn’t everything. Her husband, Richard, is distant and obsessed with proving his worth to his now deceased father. Their only child, Stephanie Anne, has grown up spoiled and wants to become a famous actor with her own section in the town’s film center. Will Bethenny’s mid life crisis help bring the family together or push them to achieve their own, separate, life goals?

Traits: Bethenny is a Snob, Art Lover, and Squeamish. Richard is Ambitious, a Snob, and Proper Stephanie Anne is Materialistic and Self-Absorbed

Aspirations : Bethenny wants a Big Happy Family (as a result of her midlife crisis Richard wants to be a Mansion Baron Stephanie Anne wants to be a World-Famous Celebrity Careers: Bethenny is a Vice President Richard is a Hedge Fund Manager

Walsh

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Maerina Walsh is practically an urban legend in Magnolia Promenade. The business owner is known for being an especially strict and tyrannical boss and few employees last long. Some people say her business is haunted by the ghost of a former employee and their body rests in the basement. It's a common hazing ritual for teens to dare friends to sneak down there to try to find it. There is in fact a body in the basement, but it's her former husband.

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim Traits: Mean, Overachiever, Snob Career: Registered with Ministry of Labor as a business owner

Unit 1: Patten

Clementine is an avid partier. She loves feeding her friends and family, and then dancing off that sugar high. Her neighbors don't always appreciate her outgoing ways, and poor Prince is constantly having to go next door and ask her to keep it down. Clem owns the bakery in Magnolia Promenade and prides herself on being the go-to baker for birthdays and weddings.

Traits Childish, Foodie, Party Animal Aspiration Appliance Whiz Career Culinary(edited)

Unit 2: Stone

Prince has an uncanny ability to see the positive in almost any situation. If anyone dug a little bit, they'd see that his uplifting exterior hides a broken heart after losing the love of his life too early. To his neighbors Prince is "the plant guy", or "the cat guy". To his customers he is a gift - always knowing the right floral patterns and herbal smells to improve their spaces. When he isn't working in his garden, or at his shop, Prince is very busy spoiling his cat, Myrtle.

Traits Loves Outdoors, Green Fiend, Good Aspiration Freelance Botanist Career Retired Gardener (floral designer)

Unit 3: Metzgers

Freddy and Solomon met at a university art event. They were both vying for the same painting, and decided the best answer to the problem was to just... fall in love and move in together to share the art. The Metzgers are homebodies, but enjoy entertaining - or any excuse to show off the newest addition to their antique collection. Local hospitality businesses especially love this couple - Freddy is always ready to give a good deal to a neighbor, no matter which neighborhood they're from.

Traits Freddy - Art Lover, Proper, Adventurous Solomon - Bookworm, Good, Snob Aspirations Freddy - Archaeology Scholar Solomon - Careers Freddy - Writer Solomon - Art Critic

Unit 4: Bouras

Astraia owns the salon in Magnolia Promenade. She's always got the good gossip around town from her clients and friends. Her husband, Dion, dreams of being a professional athlete. He played sports in school, but after an injury he had to take some time off. Their pup, Opie, is the apple of their eye. They love to dress her up and show her off!

Traits Astraia - High Maintenance, Materialistic, Insider Dion - Active, Slob, Romantic Aspirations Astraia - Fabulously Wealthy Dion - Curator Careers Astraia - Business Dion - Athlete

River's Family

Drborah Rivers grew up with her brother Ricky and his best friend Ezra Waite. She eventually fell off with them in high school to focus on her friends and boyfriend. After school she became a nurse, got married and had 3 kids right after graduation. She is still is in touch with Ezra, and sees Ricky at family gatherings but isn’t super close with either of them anymore.

Bobby Rivers - Husband Kimberleigh - Daughter Brody - Son Addyson - Daughter

White Family

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Ezra White's family has been in Willow Creek for decades, so it's not a surprise when he easily won his election for Mayor. It was not long after that he met Lillian, a Simfluencer who just looooves helping people at a city function. Lillian championed Ezra to suggest a number of ways to reinvigorate the town, and maybe help themselves along the way. There's nothing wrong with that, right? What politician doesn't have their own slush fund.

Traits: Ezra - Bookworm, Loyal, Loves Outdoors Lilian - Ambitious, Materialistic, Romantic Merle - Couch Potato, Independent, Sleuth Rex - Jumpy, Loyal, Sleuth Aspirations: Ezra - Friend Of The World Lilian - Mansion Baron Career: Ezra - Politician (Councilman - Level 7) Lilian - Nano-Simfluencer

Hawthrone Family

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The Hawthrones have lead the North East Hub for generations. Terrance Hawthrone was a beloved leader loved by the people and for the people. During the last election he stepped down and had his son Ronald Hawthrone proceed in power. This decision to step down was due to Damien Mesquite of the South Eastern Hub. Damien Mesquite has a plan for the North East Hub that will be revealed in the next phase of the save file. Ronald however despite being a good person is very disliked by the people and while everyone is focused on what Ronald is doing, they should probably be watching Evelynn..

Henry Hawthrone Traits: Romantic, Outdoorsy Aspiration: Serial Romantic Activities: Captain of the Football Team Grades:B Harper Hawthrone Traits: Perectionist Aspiration:Social Butterfly Activities: Llamacorn Scout Grades:A Terrance Hawthrone Aspiration:Neighborhood Confidante Traits: Good, Cheerful, Loyal, Gregarious Career:Retired Political Leader Angela Hawthrone Aspiration:Mansion Baron Traits:Snob, High Maintenance, Materialistic, Buisness Savvy Career: Retired Housewife Ronald Hawthrone Aspiration: Successful Lineage Traits: Generous, Ambitious, Cringe, Domestic Career: National Leader Evelynn Hawthrone Aspiration:Seeker of Secrets Traits:Evil, Insider, Overachiever, Dastardly Career:Corporate Raider

The remainder of the lots for willow creek will be posted with Magnolia Promenade due to a photo capacity limit *

#sims4 #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims #thesimsbuilds #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 save file #30+sims4ever #sims save file #sims4 builds

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