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marshmallow-phd · 6 years ago

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My Soul to Burn

Part of the EXO Demon Series

Genre: Demon AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Minseok

Summary: Unknown to the mortals, the world was plunging into chaos. But Minseok couldn’t care less. He was still able to take assignments, able to continue in collecting souls of the gullible. As long as he could do his job, he didn’t care what the angels or his boss were up to. Out stalking his next target, he met you, someone who could see him even when he chose to be invisible. At first, he shrugged you off, not interest in the mystery. But after another chance encounter, Minseok was intrigued. As your abnormality could have a part to play in the war against the angels, he was reluctantly keeping you close. With you as warm as he was cold, he tried to stay the terrifying demon while being haunted by Kris’ last words…

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

Minseok arrived back at the mansion, Chanyeol pouncing as soon as he saw him.

“Who was that?” he asked with those annoyingly big eyes.

“Just a nuisance,” Minseok grumbled.

“But she could see us.” Chanyeol bounced from one foot to the other. He was so easily spooked and that pitiful state was obnoxious.

Minseok ignored him as he stalked to the kitchen. Jongdae was sitting at the middle island, reading over his latest file sprayed out in front of him. He looked stress, but after his debacle with an older contract, it was understandable. He couldn’t leave any opening for the target to get out unscathed.

Fetching two glasses out of the cabinet and pouring more whiskey than necessary, Minseok slid one glass to the other demon who picked it up and downed nearly half of it.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jongdae sighed. Minseok just shrugged.

Most of the others in the house kept their distance from Minseok. While they were all demons, most of them were softer than they should have been. Yixing sickened him the most, too sweet and interested in the everyday numbness of human lives. The youngest ones, mostly Sehun and Tao, really got on his nerves with their antics and occasional whining. Jongdae seemed to be the only one he could stand being around for long periods of time. Luhan as well, but he was more relaxed around the former.

“What was Chanyeol talking about someone seeing you?” Jongdae inquired, flipping his folder shut. He could never stay concentrated on a target for long.

Minseok shrugged, taking another sip of the alcohol. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to drink the stuff, the burn wasn’t as searing as it was to a human and the amount it took him to get drunk would be almost half a liquor store. “Just some girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“You say that now,” Jongdae murmured. “What if something else happens? We’ve already had issues thanks to one human girl. We don’t really need her to track us down here or mess something up.”

“Just drop it,” Minseok snapped.

Truth be told, Minseok wanted everyone else to drop it so he could. He needed to keep up the pretense that you being able to see him wasn’t bruising his ego. Having power that humans could only dream of? Yeah, he lived for it. Not having one of his favorites be usable against one measly female? It was pissing him off.

Minseok finished off his drink, taking both his and Jongdae’s empty glasses and washing them clean in the sink before laying them on the hardly used drying rack. Just as he was exiting the kitchen, he threw over his shoulder, “Get that case done in a timely manner. I can’t keep covering for your sluggishness.”

Jongdae smirked. “Sure thing, fearsome leader.”

Minseok rolled his eyes and left. Just before he made it to the first step, Yixing came down the stairs, taking a wide berth to avoid him as much as possible, not even making eye contact when he passed. As much as Minseok didn’t care for the softy, he was getting sick and tired of this childish silent treatment.

“Are you actually going to spend the rest of eternity blaming me?” Minseok snarled at Yixing’s back.

Yixing froze before slowly turning just enough to look over his shoulder at Minseok. “I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault that you did your duty as a pawn to Lucifer and caused the world to turn into a battle ground. Besides, Kris would have eventually left with her on his own.” He looked away and continued to the door. Just as he turned the handle and opened it a crack, he added, “You know, I hope what Kris told you really does come true. I think it be good for you.”

“Deaf ears,” Minseok scoffed. Of course Yixing heard that pathetic speech Mr. Noble gave him. “I don’t even remember what that little traitor said.”

“Yes, you do,” Yixing challenged. He disappeared through the entryway, the door closing with a soft click.

Minseok shook his head. What a load of bullshit. If anyone else was going to crack and fall for a stupid human, it’d be Yixing. Then Minseok could laugh in his face and then watch his traitorous butt drive away just like Kris. Maybe he should introduce you to Yixing?

He shook his head. No. As much as he didn’t care for Yixing, he didn’t think he should put him through the torture of your attitude.

Shrugging off the thought, Minseok took the stairs two at a time. He was sure that he had all he needed to persuade his target to make a deal and that’s where his focus needed to be.

For about twenty-four hours you were extremely paranoid. Looking over your shoulder every five seconds, jumping at every little sound that hummed through your dingy studio apartment, seeing things that weren’t actually there. You were completely exhausted from being in a permanent state of fight or flight.

But after making it through two whole nights without that stranger coming after you, you calmed down and went back to your normal programming. Besides, maybe you just imagined him disappearing into thin air. The adrenaline of the run mixed with your exhaustion after working seven days in a row without a break was just making you see things.

Yes, that’s exactly what it was. Your mind playing tricks on you. There was no way a person could actually turn invisible or teleport or whatever the hell it was that your mind came up with. He was not going to come after you. There was no reason to be fearful for your life.

This was a mantra you kept repeating to yourself as you came in through the back door of the coffee shop. You were greeted by Mr. Kwon, who was getting ready to make the first batch of fresh brew for the day, and Hana as she was simultaneously stuffing napkins into the metal holders and texting catch-of-the-week on her phone.

Immediately, you started on your own pre-opening tasks: wiping down tables for anything that might have been missed the night before, refilling sugar packets, and double checking that all dishes were cleaned and ready for use.

Hana leaned on the counter as you reorganized the cups stacked for any to-go orders.

“So, John told me you were seeing someone who wasn’t there the other day.” Her lips were pulled into a teasing smirk. While Hana was a nice girl, she wasn’t necessarily someone you would hang out with outside of work. She could be a little too nosy for your liking.

“Misunderstanding,” you lied coolly. “I accidently said table six rather than table seven. That’s why he thought I was seeing things.” You let your shoulders fall in a nonchalant shrug. “It was busy. You know, because someone else wouldn’t answer their phone.” You pointed your gaze on the device in her hands, making her put it away guiltily.

“I was in a movie,” she pouted. Although it was perfectly clear that she was more disappointed by your ordinary explanation rather than being called out for avoiding her job. She wasn’t scheduled to work, but it was her week for backup duty.

Unreliable was a good descriptive word for Hana. But Mr. Kwon kept her around because she did, admittedly, always show up on time for her days that were marked on the calendar. You just couldn’t get her to come in for extra help.

The subject was dropped, however, and soon the shop was open for business. As it was a week day, morning business mostly consisted of sleepy commuters needing their daily dose of caffeine before heading off to their boring office jobs.

That was something you could never do. The idea of sitting at a computer all day every day, doing the same thing over and over again made you die inside. Did you have the most luxurious home? No. Did you have a car? No at all. Did you get to go out on expensive vacations all around the world? As nice as that would be, the answer was still no.

But you were comfortable. You actually enjoyed coming into work most days. You liked having the same customers that you could talk to, make them smile when their day was down, or secretly give them an extra treat just because, but each day still came with surprises. Of course, you had days that you rolled over and didn’t want to get out of bed, but didn’t everyone?

You didn’t need the fancy luxuries in life. You just needed to get by with a little treat every now and again. That kept you satisfied.

“(y/n)?”

You shoved the rest of the Danish in your mouth that you had snuck into the back to eat. The morning rush was over and your stomach was yelling at you to give it something to hold you over until your actual break in an hour or so.

You turned around, trying not to choke as you cleared your mouth of the pastry. “Yeah, Hana?”

Hana batted her eyes for a moment and then hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Mr. Thomas is asking for you.”

Nodding, you hurried past her before she could voice her opinion on whether or not the middle aged accountant had a thing for you or not. She was always jumping to conclusions and gossiping. Some day you were sure it would get her in trouble.

When you reached the counter, you blinked, at first not recognizing him.

Mr. Thomas looked better than he had in weeks. Gone were the bags under the eyes and the wrinkled clothes that desperately needed a good dry cleaning. Instead, the stubble on his face was shaved away, his clothes looked fresh from the tailor, and he was smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“How can I help you, Mr. Thomas?” You gave him a smile, feeling a bit relieved that he seemed to be doing much better.

“I’ve come to offer you a job, Miss (y/n),” he stated, getting straight to the point.

Your mouth dropped. “W-what?”

“My firm is back on track,” he explained, “and I’ll never be broke again. You’ve helped keep my spirits up a lot these past few weeks and so I was hoping I could bring you along with me. The office could use a girl like you.”

Um…. “Thank you, Mr. Thomas.” You tried to remain polite. He was obviously sincere about the position, but working for him was a one way ticket to a cubicle and dying spirit. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what I could do in an office….”

You’d worked service jobs your whole life. You weren't even sure how a copier worked for the most part.

“I figured you could be my personal secretary.” His eyes looked… not hopeful, but almost as if he was sure that you’d have no other answer but yes.

“Thank you, again, Mr. Thomas,” you lost the smile on your face so he’d understand that you were perfectly serious in your rejection, “but I’m quite comfortable here. I’m sorry.”

The grin slipped from his face. “Oh. Are you sure? I have enough that I can pay you double than what you make here. Just name your salary, I’ll give it to you.”

To any other person that would have been more than enough to take the job. But you remembered how weathered and soulless your father looked each night getting home from work. That wasn’t worth it in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas,” you emphasized, “but I just can’t accept your offer.”

He sighed. “Okay, then. I understand.” The smile was right back on his face. “How about I take you out to dinner then?”

Your eyes widened. Hana snorted from her eavesdropping hiding space in the back. If only someone would kill you now.

Minseok nearly gagged. Was the old man serious? He was at least twice your age and yet, there he was, trying to get you out on a date. As grotesque as Minseok found the situation, the look on your face pushed a laugh out of him. You were utterly horrified and Minseok nearly patted himself on the back.

Something else that always set him apart from his brothers was how he liked to stick around the targets and watch the aftermath. When someone went from a few days of being evicted to suddenly rolling in money, there was always a show. They either took themselves farther down the road of destruction with endless means to fund it or they found themselves back where they started – if they were dumb and only asked for a certain amount of money and prosperity.

That was what people always wanted these days. Money. Wealth. Fame and fortune. The amount of actors and singers who had contracts signed in their name and waiting for their deathbed was unbelievable.

Most of the targets got big heads, walking around like they had the world at their feet instead of their name on the list of hell-goers. They live it up now, forgetting the torture that awaited them after death.

But this. This right here just might be the most hysterical event Minseok ever witnessed. The old man got his skyscraper accounting firm and million dollar home and now he thought he could just waltz in the shop and sweep you off your feet. At this point, Minseok was tempted to leave his hiding space just outside the shop, blocked from view by the wall and leaning forward just enough to see your face, and head inside to be closer to the action. But then you would see him and the show would probably be over. He was extremely thankful that demons had superior hearing.

“Mr. Thomas, I don’t think that’s appropriate at all.” Your overall tone was nice, but even Minseok could feel the underlying tension in your voice.

“Come on, (y/n),” Thomas whined, practically begging like a dog. “It’s just dinner. Besides, what’s the big? It’s the twenty-first century. Age doesn’t matter.”

You snapped. “I said no. I am not interested in getting dinner with you. And your insistence is making me uncomfortable. So either please order something or leave.”

Minseok was impressed. It was rare to see someone stand up for themselves like that.

Figuring out that just because he was rich now didn’t mean he could get you, the idiot ran out of the shop with his tail between his legs. Snorting, Minseok shimmered away before you could notice him.

Back at the mansion, he just wandered around, already itching to get a new assignment. This one had been too easy. Thomas had practically begged for the contract as soon as he figured out what Minseok was. There was no fight, no bartering or back and forth. Boring.

“Minseok.”

Excellent.

Turning around with a smug smile on his face, Minseok answered, “Yes?”

Junmyeon didn’t look as happy. He was always so stoic and serious. Minseok actually kind of liked that. But he did wander if Junmyeon knew how to smile, wickedly or otherwise.

The fearless leader held up a folder and Minseok could feel his eyes shining.

“I was supposed to give this to Tao,” Junmyeon stated. “But he’s still working on his previous assignment. I heard you’ve finished yours and I know-”

Minseok snatched the folder out of his hand and was halfway up the stairs before Junmyeon could blink. He waltzed into the second floor study and plopped down in one of the chairs near the bookcases, leathery and overstuffed but comfortable, and opened up the file.

He nearly choked. It was strange feeling. He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. But he’d already taken the assignment, accepted the target. This would be… interesting.

#exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo demon au #exo demon!au #exo x fem reader #exo x fem!reader #kim minseok x reader #xiumin #kim jongdae #chen #lu han #luhan #kim junmyeon #suho #park chanyeol #zhang yixing #lay #My Soul to Burn

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pjbehindthesun · 7 years ago

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chapter 5: yellow daisies and white rabbits

Sunday, June 24th, 1990

I shuffle my high tops in front of her door uncertainly while I wait for her to answer my knock. Has it been long enough that I should knock again? Would that seem needy or demanding? Maybe she just didn’t hear me the first time, right? Or maybe I’m being creepy enough just by showing up on her doorstep unannounced and I’d better not push my luck. I’m just about to lose my nerve and turn around when Lucy answers the door, wiping her hands on a turquoise dish rag.

“Hi, Jeff!” She says, looking pleasantly surprised, and her smile blows away all my anxiety like a warm breeze. Until she furrows her brow. “Wait, how did you know which apartment was mine?”

Busted. “I, uh…” I’m mumbling to the dingy carpet in the hall, “I remembered your last name and I checked the mailboxes in the lobby.”

But instead of slamming the door in my face for being a desperate stalker, that smile dawns over her face again. “What for?”

“I, uh,” I try to fight some words out past the grin on my face, “I think I just felt bad that my drunk idiot friends just took over your car last night and we didn’t get to, like, say goodnight, it was just sort of rushed.”

I had been trying so hard to get fuckin’ wasted Stone and Mike quietly up to my apartment to sleep it off that I barely got to wave goodbye to her as we continued up the stairs, and all I’ve wanted to do since then is run back down here, find her apartment, and keep asking her all about her life story, getting to know every little thing about her. The hour that I got to spend talking to her at the Off-Ramp last night (after we found a spot outside where our various asshole friends couldn’t interrupt us anymore) was the most exhilarating hour I’ve spent in I don’t know how long. My slightly hungover friends shuffled off this morning, and I’ve basically just been pathetically wasting time ever since, watching the clock and trying to figure out when’s an appropriate time to show up at her door.

“Well, you’re either really late or really early, it’s like 12:30,” she giggles, leaning against the door frame.

“So I guess we just have to keep talking, then. Kill time until the next goodnight.”

“Seems like our only option.”

“Well, uh, and only if I’m not interrupting anything, that is… since we’re powerless against the force of time and all, do you… wanna go get some lunch while we wait?” Please say yes. Please say yes. I have no idea where I’m finding all this courage, except from the smile that she’s giving me that feels like a sunrise in my chest.

She nods with a little flush of her cheeks, and I have to fight to keep myself from jumping in the air from the adrenaline. “Let me just grab my bag… wanna come in for a second?”

I edge inside her apartment while she ducks down the hallway and into her bedroom. It’s the same layout as mine, just flipped around on the opposite side of the hall. The same boring curdled cream-cheese colored walls, the same scratched up wood floors, the same cheap dingy kitchen. That’s where the similarities end, and I’m disoriented and fascinated by everything else.

Everything in here is a different, vivid color. In the kitchen, she’s hand-painted a trail of daisies on the wall over the tops of the cabinets, and the dishes in her drying rack are bright yellow to match. On the wall leading out of the kitchen, there are some bizarre old botanical drawings in beat-up wooden frames, and the windows are flanked with glittering patterned purple curtains. In the window seat, she’s got a bunch of orchids and cactii in brightly colored pots under an array of neon paper lanterns. The living room… the living room is something else. There’s a beat-up but ornate blue velvet couch, a giant golden tassled floor pillow, and a screaming orange floral recliner resting on an ancient Persian rug. I’m just craning my neck down the hallway to get a load of the mosaic of mismatched, loudly patterned Moroccan tiles covering the wall when Lucy bounces back out of her room, slinging a little light blue backpack over her shoulder.

She gives me a smile that’s almost a wince or a squint, the way it wrinkles her nose. “….what?”

“This… this is your place?”

“Uhm, if it’s not then my life’s about to get a lot more surreal… why? You hate it, right?”

“No! No. It’s insane. I love it. It’s like you live in a fucking Basquiat or something.” I’m grinning like a fool but I don’t care. Something about this place just makes me so deeply happy. It’s all so bright, and chaotic, and loud, and off-beat, and mysterious, and confusing, but somehow so coherent.

She nods. “Somewhat less thought-provoking social commentary. And less heroin.”

“Let me go on the record saying that both of those modifications are fine. Where the hell did you find all of this stuff??”

“Uhm, well, a lot of it I found at garage sales and random thrift shops. Some of it I made, like that” – she waves at the cornea-searing orange chair – “well, I upholstered it anyway, and those” – the curtains – “but the rest of it I’ve just picked up all over the place.”

“Wow. I mean, I’ve picked stuff up off curbs and yard sales for my place too, but it’s all beige and brown and boring.”

Lucy giggles. “And yet you’re the artiste, hmm?”

“Hey be nice, I never said I knew shit about interior design,” I chuckle.

“It’s a lot in here, I know,” she hedges, toying with her hands as we make our way to her front door.

“It’s pretty perfect, is what it is,” I mumble, and I’m not sure if I’m even still talking about her apartment. “So, where should we go?”

***

“Cora? Hey, CORA! WAIT UP!”

The bell at the top of the door to the Cyclops is still ringing in my ear as I step out onto 1st Street and try to figure out who’s yelling at me. I spot Stone about a half a block south of me, waving his arms and breaking into a jog with Mike trailing behind him, toting two guitars over his shoulder.

“Hey, stalkers,” I grin as they catch up to me. “Stone, I thought you weren’t speaking to me after last night.”

“I really shouldn’t, what with the restraining order and all.”

Mike’s watching us with a completely lost expression on his face. Oh, poor thing was so drunk he doesn’t even remember the ride home. “Sorry Mikey, Stone here got his feelings hurt over some crap on the radio.” Mike mouths a knowing “ahh” with a nod.

“Crap on the radio?? See, this is why the court ordered you to stay 500 feet from me. I can’t have someone brutally assaulting my taste in music all the time.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t recognize the ruling, on the grounds that loving Steely Dan that much cannot lawfully be described as ‘taste.’”

Stone gapes at me in horror. “You’re a monster, Red.”

“Takes one to know one. How long have you been following me, creep?”

“Ha ha,” Stone drawls. “We were actually just heading to your building.”

“That makes it so much less creepy, obviously.”

“To see Jeff,” Mike injects. “Stone’s piece of shit car won’t start so we left it back on 3rd. We’re trying to get up to a guitar place in Fremont to get these things looked at, so we were gonna try to bum a ride from Jeff.”

Mike checks his watch with an anxious look, so I start taking baby steps north towards home, and the guys follow along.

“What were you doing up on 3rd? Do you guys live around here too?”

“No, I actually live up by Fremont and Stone here lives with his parents, which is an extremely rock and roll thing for a 23 year old to do.” Mike cracks me up with an exaggerated serious look.

“Whatever, assholes,” Stone grumbles. “Anyway we were just checking out this new practice space back that way. I think it’s gonna work out, so we might be your neighbors soon after all… please, not on the street,” he says as I mime puking in my mouth.

When we get back to my building, Jeff’s not answering the buzzer, even though the guys spotted his car in the parking lot. Stone’s brainstorming out loud about jogging back to a payphone to call a cab and Mike’s fidgeting and cursing Jeff’s name when I decide to speak up. After all, Alex is gone for the afternoon with his buddies, I’ve got nowhere to be.

“Listen, I can drive you guys. You said Fremont, right? That’s not far.”

“Yeah?” Stone asks with a skeptical expression, but Mike’s already making a beeline toward the line of cars I waved towards as I spoke.

“Excellent. Which one’s yours?”

“The white Rabbit,” I say, grabbing my keys from my pocket and pointing at it. Stone’s shoulders drop as he issues the eye roll to end all eye rolls.

“Okay, Grace Slick. You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’d give you a jump but the cables are in Alex’s trunk, I think.”

“Of course. Thanks Alex,” Stone says in an acerbic tone, his face darkening into a frown. “Really, you don’t mind? It might take a while, Mike’s a freak about letting anyone work on his guitar.”

“Dude, she said it was fine, let’s go! Shotgun!” says Mike, who’s already hanging on my passenger side door handle like a child, and I let them both into the car.

“So, what are we listening to?” Mike’s rummaging through my tapes as Stone belts himself into the back seat.

“Please, dear sweet god, no hillbilly tunes.”

“STONE GOSSARD IF YOU CALL ME A HILLBILLY ONE MORE TIME –”

“Ooh! Rust Never Sleeps.” Mike pops the tape in with a contented grin.

The sniff that comes from Stone as I fire up the engine indicates that even he can’t think of an objection to Neil, and I quickly stifle a smile so he won’t catch it.

“So this practice space? Does that mean you guys are getting more serious about getting a new band going?” I ask as we turn onto 1st, with Mike occasionally reminding me of directions.

“Oh yeah. Born serious, baby,” Stone says, leaning forward and sticking his face between the front seats.

“Yeah, well if you’re so serious, you’d work harder to get Jeff on board,” Mike shoots him a pointed look.

“Not that crap again, Mike.”

“I mean it! We’ve gotta get Jeff Ament in here.”

“Fuck Jeff Ament.” Stone sits back in a huff, and Mike and I exchange significant looks.

“I thought he was your guy?” Mike asks. “You’ve been playing together forever!”

“That doesn’t mean shit. He’s my friend and all, but I can’t be in a band with him again. I can’t handle his fucking attitude anymore.”

I was going to stay out of it since I obviously don’t know the whole story, but come on. “His attitude? Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

Laughter explodes out of Mike as Stone punches the back of my seat.

“She’s got a point, dude,” Mike notes. “I’m pretty sure it took two of you to fuck things up this badly.”

Stone mutters something about a fucking ambush under his breath before grudgingly saying something to the effect of, “I guess I can give it a shot,” making Mike pump his fist and grin.

We unload in front of this dingy little music shop that Mike directed us to, and he gingerly picks up the guitars and practically sprints for the door. Stone and I share a shrug before following him inside.

A blast of freezing air hits us as soon as we walk inside, and I shiver involuntarily.

Stone casts a lazy glance over at me before looking over at a wall of guitars. “Cold, Red? Some Arctic explorer you must be.”

“Shut up, Stoner, you forget I’m a Southerner. It’s fucking frigid in here. Come here.” I rest my hands against the little bit of skinny upper arm sticking out from under his shirt sleeve, alternating pressing my fingers front and back to warm them up. He slowly looks over and down at me with his mouth slightly open and massive eyes that remind me of an owl’s.

“Haha okay okay fine, personal space,” I joke, pulling my hands back and stepping away. Stone’s still gazing at me with the same hallucinatory look as the shop clerk heads to the back of the store carrying the guys’ two guitars, with Mike on his heels and peppering him with a million nervous questions.

Stone’s stare is starting to freak me out, so I move away from him to the wall of guitars and brush the strings of an acoustic with my thumb a couple of times. Unable to help myself, I pull it down from the wall and strum a couple of sloppy chords.

“Do you play?” Stone says from just behind me. I might have jumped, except that his voice is so quiet.

“What? No, no. I’m awful.”

“Which is it?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t play, or you’re awful?” he asks, still in that same hushed tone, peering down over my shoulder.

“Two things can be true.”

“You’re, uh, you’re muting that string. Here, like this…” he takes my hand in his, very carefully adjusting the angle of my fingers on the strings. I want more than anything to sneer at him, but as I play around among the small handful of chords I know, I have to admit that tiny adjustment made things a lot easier. He drops his hand back to his side and listens.

“Thanks,” I glance up at him, and he quickly looks away at another guitar up on the wall.

“Uh, sure,” he coughs. “So did you teach yourself, or what? Because you were right, you’re pretty fucking terrible.”

“You’re a peach. Uhm, I learned a few things a long time ago, but yeah, I guess I mostly taught myself.” Dad taught me to play when I was 8, but I’m not about to tell this guy I barely know about that.

“Well, it shows.” Just like last night, there’s that snide tone accompanied with an encouraging smile, just pleading for me to see through his bullshit and play along.

“And I suppose you’re Hendrix, huh?”

“Nah, that’s Mike. I prefer Page, myself.”

“And so modest, too.” He bats his eyelashes at me. “So you think you’ll really talk to Jeff, or –?”

“Oh Jesus, not you too. Yeah, I’ll talk to him.” There’s a snap in his voice that wasn’t there before, so it’s clearly off-limits and I let the subject drop. I hang the guitar back up, and he seems to sense that he’s been a little spiky.

“So what’s life like for you this summer? I mean, you’re a student, obviously you don’t have class, but you’re still working?” He’s fumbling his words a little, trying to recover.

“Yeah, when you’re a grad student, your work is never done. And if it is, you’re doing it wrong.”

“Sounds fulfilling as a flesh-eating parasite.”

“You’re not wrong. Anyway, I’m actually going to Alaska next Friday for three weeks. Soil sampling trip.”

“No way? Wait, when do you get back?”

I scrunch up my face while I hunt for the date in my mind. “The 20th, I think. Why?” I ask, suspicious of the huge grin dawning on his face.

“That’s my birthday. And Chris’s. He’ll be back from their European tour by then and we’re having a party, you should try and make it. And bring this fabled boyfriend of yours. If you don’t freeze to death up north, that is…”

I’m trying to decide whether to punch him in the shoulder for being a dick or thank him sincerely for the invitation when Mike appears out of nowhere, looking a little brokenhearted.

“Gonna need a few days for repairs,” he mumbles. “You guys ready to get out of here or what?”

***

“You did not.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, no, you just didn’t strike me as the type to…”

“…castrate something? You underestimated me, clearly.”

“Clearly,” Jeff says with a wide-eyed smile that’s somewhere between amused and terrified. “How did you… how?”

“One of my best friends back home lived on a cattle ranch, and I used to help her family with the calves all the time. Castration’s not a big deal –”

“That depends on which end of the knife you’re on, Lucy!” he shrieks.

“Okay, so I didn’t actually wield the knife…”

“I knew it! Thank fuck.”

“Haha can I finish? It’s really not a big deal, you just need someone who can help hold the calf down on one end and someone who can sprinkle cauterizing powder on when it’s done. It’s over really fast and they heal super quickly. I usually did the powder part but when they were small enough I could help hold them too.”

“Jesus, Lucy. Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Oh come on, you never encountered shit like this in Montana? You said you lived in cow country too, right?”

“Yeah, but the difference is that I got out of there as fast as humanly possible. I didn’t hang around the ranches, I hung around my hippie uncle with the record collection.”

His expression darkens a little bit when he’s talking about where he grew up, so it’s probably best to change the subject. “You said you got out of there fast? Did you come straight to Seattle, then?”

Nothing makes him light up more than talking about music or art, and I’m completely mesmerized by his face and the excitement in his voice as he tells me about the time he went to California when he was 12, how that trip connected him to skating, to punk music, and to everything outside of Big Sandy that he wished he could have. How he couldn’t wait to go to college just to find some like-minded people, but even then, he could only find a handful of other guys in Missoula who were into punk rock. How even that tenuous little tribe wasn’t enough of a home to keep him there when the college decided to close down his graphic design program, and how he came to Seattle looking for more. As we’re walking back home from lunch and he’s telling me all of this, and I think about everything he told me last night at the Off Ramp about Mother Love Bone and Andy, I marvel at how intensely protective I feel of him already. I’m the typical clichéd small town kid who left home looking to belong, too, so I understand where he’s coming from, but I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who feels that drive quite as fundamentally as Jeff still does, even all these years later. Except maybe Cora. Sort of funny that they have that intensity in common.

We round the corner and wander into the parking lot of our building, in no real hurry to get home or anywhere else in particular, still talking about what brought each of us to Seattle, when I notice Cor’s rusty little white Rabbit pulling off the main road. I take Jeff’s hand and give it a quick squeeze. “Let’s go say hi!”

He trails behind me but allows himself to be led over to the car, and he looks as surprised as I feel when Stone and Mike climb out along with Cora.

“The fuck are you doing hanging out with these two losers?” he laughs at her.

“Bite me, Jeff,” Stone grumbles. “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“Can you even hear yourself when you talk?” Jeff asks, shaking his head, but Stone continues undeterred.

“My car needs a jump back on 3rd, and I wanted to show you something over there anyway. Can you give us a lift back?”

Jeff glances back at me and it’s immediately clear he’s thinking the same thing – shit, not again, why do the same people have to keep interrupting us?

“Uhm, yeah, man, sure. Just, uh, give me a minute.”

“Lucy!” Cora calls. “Are we hanging out tonight?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me call you later though? I had a huge lunch, I need a nap.” She’s smirking at me and I know for sure that she isn’t buying it, but at least she has enough sense to nod along and keep Stone busy outside for a few minutes. She strikes up a conversation with him about something, but I don’t care enough to eavesdrop as I shoot a grin at Jeff.

I follow him upstairs to the third floor, and once I key into my apartment, I turn around to face him.

“Hey, I’m really glad you tracked me down,” I say, picking his hand up in mine and giving it a squeeze.

“Stalked you, is more like it.”

“Well, I’m glad you stalked me,” I giggle. “You should do it again sometime.”

“Promise,” Jeff says in a low voice that makes my heart thud. He leans against my door frame. “Maybe tomorrow night? Second date?”

“Wait, was this our first?”

“Shit, that’s how smooth I am, you didn’t even know it was happening,” he laughs, and I could swear he’s blushing just a little.

“I think you’re smoother than you think,” I grin, biting my lip as he leans in a little closer.

“I think you’re trying to spare my feelings.”

“I think… I think you should go help your friends, they’re waiting.” But I lean in anyway, savoring the way time has slowed down.

“I think they can wait a little longer.” And as his lips find mine, I’d have to agree.

***

Monday, June 25th, 1990

I’m still daydreaming about our kiss, way up on Cloud Nine, as I make my way through the mostly deserted hallway to my desk. Not even Greta’s customary bitching when I asked her how her weekend went could kill this high. I drop my lunch in the break room, wondering whether I’ll get to see him again tonight, and the only thing that breaks my reverie is an unfamiliar package sitting on my desk. What the hell?

It’s wrapped in beautiful blue paper with a silver ribbon. Cautiously, I check the card to confirm that it’s actually addressed to me, which it is, and I look around for answers but of course no one else is here yet. No one’s ever sent me a present at work before – there’s no way Jeff did this after only one date, right? …right?

I slide the paper off the box, which is a glitzy golden color, and when I open the lid, a folded piece of paper falls on top of the ornately decorated chocolate covered strawberries inside. I crack it open with a shaky hand and eventually decipher the loopy scrawl:

“In defense against the strawberry-free life. Yours, Jake.”

What?

After racking my brain for several minutes, I remember our conversation at the end of last week about his patient, the one with the allergy. He seriously thought about that all weekend? And bought me strawberries because of it?

Wait… “yours”?

…oh, shit.

#i swear the story's going somewhere soon #behind the sun #chapter 5 #fanfiction #fanfic #stone gossard #jeff ament #mike mccready #pearl jam

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randrvstheworld · 7 years ago

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The final days in the dunes: recovering from gastro flu & making the most of it (& subsequent passage to Lima)

Much has happened since my last post. Firstly: sound the celebratory klaxon, my gastro-flu has, after what seemed like the longest week ever, finally passed. Huzzah! I can enjoy food & exercise & leave the house again. Excellent times. This was celebrated in truly adventurous fashion with a sand dune tour.

This entailed taking a 12-person dune buggy out into the desert, bouncing & swooping all over the place. The dunes are so undulated, properly high, steep peaks & deep troughs which the buggy inexplicably is able to stick to; it was literally like riding a rollercoaster. While we hastily tightened our straps & clung, squealing with mingled fear & excitable delight, as we rolled around the sand, our driver was casual af with cool-guy shades on & one arm resting lazily on the doorframe. It was thrilling, not to mention set against a backdrop of golden sand, a muted pastel sky & a smudged, bright sun casting a beautiful glow over our surroundings. The tiny oasis-town of Huacachine seemingly miles below us. Other towns, translucent with heat haze, scattered in the distance.

We hit up a succession of steeper & steeper dunes, grabbing boards from the back of the truck & standing in line while they got rubbed with wax before lying down, holding the straps, & being pushed straight down. You really hurtle over the sand like a rocket, the first couple weren’t so scary but the last three were seriously high & steep! The adrenaline was really coursing. On my third dune, I totally wiped out towards the bottom; it happened so fast, one second I was sliding at lightning speed down the dune on my board, the next, I felt myself turning to the side & just as I was debating how to possibly right myself I was flung off & tumbled the rest of the way down the dune in a tangle of limbs & skidding to a halt at the bottom, covered in sand. It didn’t hurt at all, it was bewildering but so funny. I wish we’d captured it on camera.

Sandboarding was a real rush. It would have been fun to stay longer & try & learn how to do it properly as opposed to body board, I reckon it would have been similar to surfing in both technique & enjoyment. After our 6th dune we went for another wild ride in the dune buggy before settling atop a neat, high peak of sand to watch the sunset. A really great day. In the morning I had also managed to visit the tiny library, which was a beautiful arched building with one tiny room crammed with beautiful illustrations & old books.The had a lovely seating area on the porch out front & stacks of Spanish children's books which I spent a glorious hour reading. I found books with all manner of excellent illustrations: line drawing, watercolour & woodblock printing. It was a delightfully peaceful spot, shaded from the glaring sun & overlooking the oasis. I LOVED Huacachine. It’s such a shame that my time there was partially blighted by illness, it was such a sweet & unique little place.

After making the most of our last morning hanging at the pool, swimming & drinking milkshake & soaking up as much desert-sunshine as possible we climbed back aboard the ol’ reliable Cruz del Sur & 6 hours later we arrived here in Lima at a very weird & quite shitty hostel where my top-bunk bed came with out ladder so required a death-defying leap each time I wanted to get in or out of bed. Thankfully we had only booked one night so we left the next morning & came here instead, to the Flying Dog which is much nicer though not without ts own issues (more on that later).

And just like that, it was Lucy’s last day again, this time for real as she has flown off to New York t reunite with a lady friend before making her way home to the UK in ten days, just in time for Xmas with her family. Naturally, her last day involved wandering about picking up last-minute souvenirs, a cheeky trip to the chocolate museum & subsequent eating of lots of delicious chocolate (well, when in Rome), & then a baller dinner in a nice restaurant (our first for a while). Tears were shed as we bundled Lucy into a cab to the airport & she pressed little goodbye notes into our hands. I’ll miss her but I’m excited to hear about her stay in one of my fave cities & looking forward to seeing her again when I get back home!

Roxy & I are currently enjoying some delayed relaxation time, which we not able to achieve last night due to a complete power outage in our hostel & no water. Forced into an early night by a lack of light & electricity, awoken at 6am by inconsiderate dorm-mates & having to walk to a neighbouring hostel for a shower our day did not start out great but it’s a nice day here in the big city & we’ve made some plans to go for a walking tour (classic) & visit a museum in the evening. It IS gonna be a good day!

#huacachina #lima #peru #travel diary #randrvstheworld

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ethanalter · 8 years ago

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Emmys: The Women of ‘Mr. Robot’

Portia Doubleday as Angela Moss, Carly Chaikin as Darlene, and Grace Gummer as Dominique “Dom” DiPierro in USA’s ‘Mr. Robot’ (Credit: USA Network)

As we enter Emmy season — nomination voting runs June 12 to June 26 — Yahoo TV will be spotlighting performances and other contributions that we feel deserve recognition.

The first season of USA’s cult drama Mr. Robot was mostly about the men in our anti-hero Elliot Alderson’s (Rami Malek) life. One man in particular: the titular leader (Christian Slater) of the anarchy-minded hacker enclave fsociety, who was revealed to be a Tyler Durden-esque figment of Elliot’s addled imagination in the Season 1 finale. For the show’s sophomore year, creator Sam Esmail (who also directed each of the 12 episodes), broadened the scope beyond Mr. Robot to focus on the women in Elliot’s life. Both his sister, Darlene (Carly Chaikin), and his childhood friend, Angela (Portia Doubleday), became driving forces in the narrative, as did a new face, FBI field agent Dom DiPierro (Grace Gummer), who is getting close — too close — to piecing together what happened on 5/9, the day that fsociety’s hack changed the world forever (and not necessarily for the better).

At the same time, Mr. Robot fans would likely agree that the increased focus on the show’s female cast has been a positive development for the show. “Season 2 was jam-packed with the ladies,” Doubleday tells Yahoo TV. “We were all really excited when we saw those scripts. It’s not as rare these days to see strong female characters that have arcs that aren’t dependent on the direction of a male counterpart, which I’m very happy about.” Gummer concurs: “Sam is so great at storytelling, and interested in the complexity of each character on the show individually. He’s not worried about anyone being likable or not likable or good or bad.”

We spoke with Mr. Robot‘s three female leads in separate interviews to break down their characters’ standout sequences from Season 2 — and learn how they might hint at what lies ahead for Season 3.

Dom ducks and covers in the one-shot shootout from ‘Mr. Robot’ (Credit: USA Network )

Dom’s Big Moment: The China Shootout (Episode 5, “eps2.3_logic-b0mb.hc”) With an FBI agent now in the mix, it stands to reason that things are going to get a lot more physical than they were in Season 1. And Dom was certainly at the center of Mr. Robot‘s two major forays into action-movie territory. In the fifth episode, she survives a firefight while working abroad in China that claims the lives of her fellow agents. Making the sequence all the more impressive is the fact that it unfolds in a single, unbroken shot — an approach Esmail repeated for another shootout in Episode 10, when Dom and Darlene are attacked by the Dark Army in a restaurant. Both sequences are strong examples of the “show, don’t tell” school of characterization: we see Dom’s personality expressed through action, rather than dialogue.

Grace Gummer: The shootout was a single shot, and I watched playback every time to make sure I was doing all of the actions right, especially grabbing the gun on the ground and shooting it. I had no bullets or ammo or sound to shoot it with; all I had was somebody off-camera going, “Boom!” I had to react to the backfire of a gun based on someone going “Boom!” You know, it was just those little things that you have to imagine in an incredibly chaotic and insane situation.

It was a very technically choreographed thing. I had to go behind the monitor between every take, and Sam would say, “I want you right here to grab the gun sooner,” because the camera was right behind me, kneeling where I was kneeling. It was all through my perspective as soon as I went down, so it had to be very specific. Physically it was really hard on my body; I turned my back out that day because of all the bending, crawling around, and twisting and everything. I ended up on the floor for a couple days with a bad back.

(Credit: USA Network)

There weren’t that many takes of that one; I think it was maybe the fourth take that we did where we got it. You only get a certain number of takes — you can’t really do that 20 times! I remember that I wanted to do more to make it look more realistic on my end, but you just have to trust Sam. When he says he’s got it, you know that he definitely has it. I forget the movie he referenced, but he wanted it to be very raw. I had never been able to do that [kind of scene] before, but if anybody is going to do it on the show, it had to be Dom.

What I think is so cool about her is that she’s aggressive and impulsive, tough and feminine. Deep down she’s incredibly lonely and isolated, and I think she uses her job as a cover-up for all of that. I think that’s how she’s related to every character on the show, because they all have that element to them. I thought of her as Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs or Frances McDormand in Fargo — that weirdo that somehow ends up being the one that gets the case and actually solves it. The one that cares the most, and the least likely person you would think would be able to do the job.

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You can see that in the shootout [in Episode 10]. She takes it upon herself; she doesn’t have any backup. No one is going to stop her, and her whole mentality is based on that. That scene was an adrenaline rush for me every time, because I knew that if I didn’t get it right, we would have to set it up and do it all again. It was a really hard, long night, one of the hardest shots I’ve ever shot in my career. I’d do 20 jumping jacks between each take to get me into the mindset of having been running. I’d have to think about all the props that I’m going to use, at what point do I open the door, how loud should I say “FBI,” how hard should I kick the guy on the ground to make sure he’s dead. It was insane, but really fun.

I can’t really say what’s going to happen to Dom in Season 3, but she’s definitely going to be at the center of the action. The action finds her, and she finds the action.

Darlene fulfills an act of childhood vengeance by killing Susan Jacobs (Credit: USA Network )

Darlene’s Big Moment: Killing Susan Jacobs (Episode 8, “eps2.6_succ3ss0r.p12”) Season 2’s eighth episode was a major departure for Mr. Robot in that Elliot didn’t appear on camera at all. Instead, Darlene was the central character in this particular hour, as the plan she had orchestrated with her brother started to unravel in spectacular fashion. The trouble started when Susan Jacobs (Sandrine Holt) — E Corp’s General Counsel, who helped absolve the corporation from any guilt in the deaths of Elliot and Darlene’s father — returned home to discover that fsociety had transformed her house into their command center. Darlene proceeds to take her hostage and, driven by the memory of Susan’s triumphant laugh when E Corp’s “innocent” verdict was handed down, kills her with a taser. That half-accidental, half-intentional act of vengeance splinters her fsociety cell, and eventually leads her to discover that her ex-boyfriend, Cisco, is a Dark Army operative.

Carly Chaikin: When we were talking about Season 2, Sam told me that I killed someone, and I was like, “What are you talking about? I’m a murderer now?” Reading it, it was one of those situations that most of us have [experienced]. We’ve had that personal moment where we think, “If I ever see that person again, I’ll kill them.” The hope is that 99.9% of us wouldn’t actually kill them. Darlene is put in that position thinking there would be something to stop her. But there wasn’t! And I don’t think it was a premeditated thing either. She obviously went down there with a taser, but it was more of an in-the-moment decision to actually do it.

Because she’s not a killer, I didn’t want it to be some kind of crazy lunge. That’s not real. The crazy thing is how easy it was; just one quick move. I came to set and talked to Sam about it, but he was like, “I don’t want to know anything. I just want to see what you do.” And so the performance that you saw was kind of just what I went in and did. We honed it in a little at the end, but he really liked what I came in with. Afterwards he came over and gave me a big hug and all the guys on set were like, “That was really good.”

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I’m not sure who chose the swimming pool, but I assume that once they saw the location, that was the area where it made the most sense to lock Susan up and keep her isolated. It was such a great environment, because it was so echo-y. Every sound you made was bouncing off the walls. It was an enclosed area, so you couldn’t just scream and have someone hear you.

One of the things that I really held on to while doing that scene was thinking about Darlene saying, “Nobody else saw but me.” That lonely isolated feeling of seeing this woman [laugh], and everyone else being like, “What are you talking about?” Having that be embedded in her, and with all of the s**t that has happened to her family as a result of E Corp. She has a face to put to that, which is Susan’s face. Susan encompasses all the evil that happened, and being able to put a face to that incident helps her. It provides a feeling that getting revenge on this one person would somehow make everything better.

All the characters on the show do things where we think we know how they’re going to turn out, and then things obviously go very differently than what we expected. Like the way fsociety thought that we’re going to start a revolution and change the world, and now we’re seeing what actually came of that. We’re going to see what comes of killing Susan. Coming into Season 3, I had to think about taking in everything Darlene went through from her brother being in jail, to destroying the world, to killing Susan. Where is she going to go from here?

Angela almost sheds tears while singing Tears For Fears (Credit: USA Network)

Angela’s Big Moment: The Karaoke Meltdown (Episode 8, “eps2.6_succ3ss0r.p12”) Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back. Those prophetic words were first sung by Tears For Fears in their immortal 1985 ballad “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” and they become the anthem of Angela’s long-overdue emotional breakdown. Since accepting a gig at E Corp, she’s been compromising, and compartmentalizing, her feelings about working for the enemy, even as she also attempts to use her status as an “inside woman” to help Darlene. Pulled in so many directions, she’s teetering on the edge of sanity and, on that karaoke stage, she appears to plunge over. The person that winds up pulling her back is Whiterose (B.D. Wong), leader of the Dark Army, who gives Angela a unique test that she winds up passing.

Portia Doubleday: There’s a certain honesty that comes out when you sing that you can’t hide as an actor, even if you’re in character. I sing for fun, but I didn’t think that Angela was the singing type. It was a moment for her to finally break this veneer that she’s been holding together the entire show — this necessity for control. That moment was atypical of something that you would see her do, so I was really excited to see what would happen.

Originally, Sam and I were thinking about a couple of songs, including “You Don’t Own Me” by Lesley Gore. But there were a couple of covers that had come out, and we thought, “Let’s pick something that might not be out there currently.” And that song is also just very on the nose about Angela’s journey, and how she feels about working in that environment of E Corp. “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” speaks to all of the characters on the show, although they go about it in very different ways. It was so much to do with what Darlene wants in her rebellion, and what Elliot struggles with constantly. That’s a perfect song to demonstrate the struggles of all the characters, and Angela has a taste of it herself. If she’s in an executive position in that company, how do people become like Terry Colby? It’s not like he started out that way. Perhaps he was very similar to Angela, but inevitably, he made that decision that completely compromised her life, and Elliot and Darlene’s.

(Credit: USA Network)

That scene was actually more difficult than I expected it to be, because you’re acting. I sing karaoke, and it’s fun, but it’s a lot different when you’re interpreting the language. We also didn’t want it to become a performance, if that makes sense. There was one take where I was like, “I need to sing it worse than this!” It was awkward for me to sing off-key at certain points, but also interesting because I was able to say these things with conviction, with where they’re actually coming from as opposed to singing a perfect song.

I don’t remember how many times I performed the song. Maybe seven times or something? Around there. I’m not sure if he cut different ones together. It sounds like they used one take, because I remember messing up at one point and I can hear it [in the episode]. I’ve never quite done a scene like that. The song is your master, in a way. You kind of have to just keep going and tell the truth to do the song justice. And the song is great! I was so obsessed with it.

I will say that’s a turning point for Angela. She thinks that her life is over, and what a perfect moment for Whiterose to kind of swoop in and say something to her. She has no idea what’s going to happen to her; everything is broken at that point, and she has everything to lose. I don’t think the audience will predict what inevitably happens with her in Season 3 in any way. It’s going to open up into a completely different version of Angela. Angela 3.0!

Season 3 of Mr. Robot premieres in October on USA.

yahoo

Read more from Yahoo TV:

Emmys: ‘This Is Us’ Star Mandy Moore on Prosthetics, Those Infamous Texts From Her Parents

Emmys: ‘Westworld’ Star Thandie Newton on Embodying the ‘Daring and Vicious’ Maeve

Emmys: ‘This Is Us’ Star Milo Ventimiglia Gets Misty Revisiting ‘The Pool’

Emmys: ‘Gilmore Girls’ Star Lauren Graham Revisits Her ‘Scariest’ Scene

Emmys: ‘Stranger Things’ Star David Harbour Revisits Sheriff Hopper’s Tough-Guy Moment

Emmys: ‘Feud’ Star Susan Sarandon on ‘The First Time I Really Felt Like Bette’

Emmys: ‘Westworld’ Star Jeffrey Wright Revisits That Reveal

Emmys: ‘Legion’ Star Aubrey Plaza on ‘Trying to Act Like Beyoncé’ in Dance Scene

Emmys: Alexander Skarsgård Revisits His ‘Big Little Lies’ Therapy Session

Emmys: ‘OITNB’ Star Laverne Cox Revisits Sophia’s Brave Pushback Against Solitary Confinement

#Emmys #_revsp:wp.yahoo.tv.us #USA #Grace Gummer #_uuid:ded2c328-498b-3bc0-93e6-e9e5cd315778 #Emmy Talk #Portia Doubleday #_author:Ethan Alter #Carly Chaikin #Emmys 2017 #_lmsid:a0Vd000000AE7lXEAT #Mr. Robot

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tigerlilynoh · 8 years ago

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Job & Family DS: Aftermath - Playdate 2.0

Words: 2,954 Spoiler warning: Contains spoilers for the end of Job & Family.

3/2/12

“Do you ever wonder what they say about us?” Dean asked after he took a hit from his vaporizer.

Sam gave his brother a sidelong glance, then turned his attention back to Kaylee, Anansi, & Malek. Sam had asked Dean to help him watch the children since Malek was spending the day topside. Two infants was a handful, three was an accident waiting to happen. The brothers had settled on clearing the living room floor and piling some toy in the middle, creating a play area that they could flank.

Kaylee was a very curious & hands on two year old. Whether it was everyone's imagination or not, the general impression was that she emulated Kay & Ruby’s leadership traits. She liked to oversee random household procedures and helped enable Anansi & Malek as much as possible. Her generosity toward the two younger relatives was shaping up to make her the leader of a very adorable gang- once all its members could walk.

At seven & six months old respectively, Anansi & Malek spent their time diligently learning through playing. They could both crawl well enough to get around and babbled what might become first words before too long. Despite not being able to talk, Anansi seemed to understand a few words & phrases beyond his own name and Malek could understand a speaker’s tone of voice.

“Kaylee can't put a whole sentence together and the others aren't even a year old. I think you need to talk to your dealer.” Sam teased.

“Not them.” Dean gestured to the kids.

“Do I ever wondered what who says about us?”

“The people who know about us.”

“That's not making it any clearer.” Sam extended his hand. “Give me your vape. You're way too high to be babysitting.”

“I'm not that high.” Dean argued, but he tossed over the vaporizer. “I mean- the angels, the demons, even nutjobs with their ear to the ground. Weren't we supposed to destroy the world and instead nothing. You disappeared. I all but disappeared.”

“I don't like to think about it too much.” Sam admitted. “I wish more people thought I was dead.”

“You need a new persona, get you back in the world. You might need a disguise spell or something- those things gotta exist, right?”

“I have no idea.” Sam said as he leaned forward and repositioned Anansi’s leg so that he wasn't sitting on it awkwardly. “I don't have time to sneak back into the world yet.”

“I guess you don't have to go very far to get a grateful mob.” Dean acknowledged.

“You miss the glory days?” Sam peeked over at Dean for signs that he might be growing restless in his newly quiet life.

“Do I miss the dislocated joints, having to pop two Vicodin just to survive sitting in the car for a few hours, watching you get beat up, worrying that someday-” Dean stopped himself, then shook his head. “I don't miss that at all, but helping people…”

“You help people.”

“I guess.” Dean sighed. “I haven't gone hunting in… well, since before Ani was born. It's weird, like- I used to get this feeling from hunting, not the adrenaline, but the accomplishment. I thought I'd lose that if I didn't hunt, and maybe I don't feel exactly proud of the mundane stuff, not in the same way… I don't know... maybe I don't need to do the big important things anymore.”

“We've still got important things, they're just small and lack fine motor skills.” Sam smiled at his kids, then looked to Dean. “You think you might ever have a kid?”

“Dyl would love that.” Dean commented, then shrugged. “Eh, maybe not- what's Michael's line matter with the asshole in prison and the apocalypse out of the way?”

“Putting aside the whole grace-vessel thing…” Sam prodded.

Dean watched as Kaylee diligently dug through the toys trying to find the best ones to give Anansi & Malek. After delivering the toys, she hugged Malek, carefully avoiding his horns & spikes in order to convey the affection. Then she sat down to play with the toy tiger Dean had given her for her first birthday. The fact that she played with it so much warmed his heart and somehow, in that moment, pained him a bit at the same time.

“I'm sure I'd like having a kid. The other me- I could see how much Dyl meant to him.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't really know if that's in the cards right now. I'm guessing Jeremy doesn't have a female vessel he can just slip into.”

“Sounds like you two are getting pretty serious?”

Sam decided not to pressed the kid angle and instead jumped at the opening to talk about Dean's boyfriend, who no one in the family had actually met. As far as Sam knew, he was the only person in the family that hadn't done some sort of background check on the guy- granted that was partially because the results of everyone's efforts ended up finding their way to Sam over a few beers. The consensus was that Jeremy was a diabetic, classic film nerd, who overwithheld on his taxes, and probably would've own a cat if not for Dean being allergic. A pleasant, but not exciting man.

“We're slow moving.” Dean answered ambiguously. “But yeah, things seem pretty stable.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“I'm not sure how to.” Dean confessed. “We’ve been dating for almost two years. At first I wasn't telling him because I didn't know him. Now I'm just like how do you tell someone you've been lying to them for two years?”

“Just start with the less crazy stuff and feel it out.” Sam suggested. “Maybe put the time travel at the end. He knows what a hunter is-”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Sam stared at Dean in disbelief. “How could he not know about hunters?”

“He's somewhere between skeptical & agnostic about a lot of this stuff. He’s never seen any of it firsthand or had it effect him. People like simple- it's easier to think it's all nutjob cults and horror movie publicity stunts.” Dean's face dimmed subtly. “He likes simple.”

“You think it'd be too much for him?”

“To believe or to put up with?” Dean groaned. “I'm not neck deep in the action anymore, but I've got a lot of strings attached.”

“All relationships have their issues.” Sam offered. “Anyway, I want to meet him, so get over your anxiety already.”

“Are you gonna ‘What are your intentions?’ him?” Dean smiled at the mental image.

“If I don't who will?” Sam joked.

“Dyl, 100% Dyl.” Dean answered confidently.

“Oh God,” Sam nodded. “Dyl really might interrogate the guy.”

“Full on waterboarding.”

Malek very carefully picked up a soft plastic toy in the shape of a lion, then waved it around a little. Sam & Dean both watched him nervously and Sam held up his hand, ready to telekinetically grab any potential projectile. Instead of throwing the toy, Malek squeezed it. There was a loud pop as the back of the lion’s head burst. Kaylee & Anansi both stared in mild alarm, but Malek started whimpering.

“Shit, I thought we’d poked holes in all the hollow toys.” Sam muttered as he scooped up Malek. He started bouncing the infant on his knee as a distraction, then spoke to him in a soft reassuring voice. “It’s okay, Mal. Just try to be gentle.”

“Let me get that.” Dean offered. He picked up a turtle plushie and shook it in front of Malek. “Come on, Mal. Check out this awesome fuzzy turtle.”

Malek stared at the turtle for a few seconds before dropping the lion and accepting the replacement. Dean picked up the lion, then ran his thumb over the broken edge of the rupture.

“Is it sharp?”

“Not really.” Dean shrugged. “Mark another one for his toy kill count.”

“Do you think you’d ever babysit Mal alone?” Sam asked Dean while patting Malek’s head in reassurance.

Over the last few months, the family had noticed that Malek’s physical strength had increased beyond that of a normal baby- or even just a human. The discovery was alarming, but not wholly unexpected considering who his father was. They all strived to teach Malek finesse, which had had mixed results. Sam & Kay had the easiest time handling him since they could use telekinesis to prevent him from breaking any of their bones. Ruby didn't have a great way of preventing the damage, but she didn't have as much attachment to her meatsuit. Similarly, Dylaniel had received several accidentally hits that he healed before they could start bruising. Luckily, so far Malek had not manifested the Knight’s trait of inflicting damage that was immune to angelic healing, though they were all vigilant.

Then there was Dean. Despite genuinely adoring Malek, Dean had trouble getting hands on with him. He didn't have a way of preventing or healing any injuries the kid might cause. Whenever he held Malek, he tried to make sure the infant was clutching a toy and aimed away from him. Everyone understood Dean's caution, though Malek was beginning to get to the age when he'd start internalizing subtle things like the fact that his uncle Dean was visibly uncomfortable interacting with him.

“Kaylee or Ani I could probably handle, but…” Dean hesitated. “I'm not sure how to stop a baby that can break all the bones in my hand.”

“He's actually getting pretty good about not hurting people.” Sam assured as he released Malek back into the play area. “It's just that objects don't say ‘ow’ before they snap.”

Malek crawled back over to Anansi & Kaylee. Anansi picked up a fuzzy pink bunny toy and held it to the slightly younger Malek. Malek looked between his turtle & the pink bunny, then dropped the turtle for the bunny. He cooed a little as he hugged the bunny.

“Hell’s gonna be so pissed to find out their future king is such a softy. You're a bad influence on him.” Dean told Sam as he got up, then walked to the kitchen. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

“Dammit.” Dean called from the kitchen a few seconds later. “One foamed over. Do you have a towel or something?”

“Check on the counter by the dishrack.” Sam spared a glance at the kitchen to make sure Dean was on the right track. “Yeah, those.”

When Sam looked back to the kids he saw that they were all still seated where they'd been, but Anansi was playing with Dean's cell phone. With Malek being capable of snapping the metal & glass device in half, the phone was potentially dangerous in their hands.

“Sorry Ani, but that's not a toy.” Sam said as he took the phone from his son, then moved it back to where Dean had been sitting, out of the baby's reach.

“Here's what's left of your beer.” Dean said as he returned.

Sam turned to collect the bottle from Dean, but Dean was too distracted by something to complete the handoff. Sam looked to what had caught his brother's attention. The cell phone was slowly sliding across the floor in diminutive jerks toward Anansi, who had his arms extended, trying to grab it.

“Ani? Stop.” Sam instructed. Anansi looked up at his dad and the phone stopped moving.

“No fucking way.” Dean exhaled.

“The kids aren't supposed to get powers like this until they're four or five years old.” Sam muttered in disbelief.

“I think you need to invest in some heavier duty baby proofing.”

“Jesus Christ. Hey, Tommy.” Sam shouted to Tom, who was studying in his bedroom.

“What?” The eight year old asked, while coming down the hall to see what was going on.

“Get your sister, take her to Belda’s.”

“What's wrong?”

“I'll explain later, just go.”

Tom shrugged, took Kaylee's hand and started walking her out the door. Kaylee waved goodbye to her little brother & cousin as she was escorted out of the cabin. With the infants no longer outnumbering him & Dean, Sam took out his phone and called Ruby. He put the call on speaker phone, then watched Anansi like a hawk for the twenty seconds or so that it took for the call to go through to Hell.

“Nobody's hurt, but Ani just used telekinesis.” Sam said as soon as the line clicked over.

“But he’s a baby.” Ruby replied uncertainly.

“I just saw it.”

“I don't understand… it just…” Ruby almost growled. “I'm gonna fucking kill Morrison. One of the prenatal supplements I took was to reduce fatigue with powers. It must've just made it easier for him in general.”

“Is there…” Sam hesitated. “is there a way to undo it? Just temporarily make it so he can't pull everything off the walls?”

“That'd take impairing parts of his brain.” Ruby warned. “He could get serious developmental damage.”

Sam picked up Anansi, who hugged his dad back. He wasn't sure how to handle a situation like this. Malek had abilities that made him potentially dangerous, but at least the implications of physical strength were predictable. With something like telekinesis, Anansi could do any number of things, including getting access to hazardous objects. And that wasn't even counting the possibility that the infant could accidentally use the First Light.

“What about an anti-magic spell on the house?” Sam suggested.

“Tommy’ll riot and we’ll end up with three kids under the age of five.” Ruby replied. “But it's a backup plan.”

Malek crawled toward Sam, trying to get to his playmate, but Dean picked him up before he could start climbing up Sam. Dean held Malek in such a way as to keep the babies from looking at each other, lest they try to interact.

“We need to figure out a way to deal with this before he hurts himself or someone else.” Sam said while moving to prevent Anansi from seeing Dean & Malek. He didn't know how well Anansi understood object permanence yet, but he hoped that out of sight still meant out of mind.

“Can you overpower him?” Ruby asked.

“I haven't tried, but probably. He was struggling to move Dean's cell.”

“Just keep an eye on him and I'll see what R&D comes up with.”

“Try to hurry, the number of infants capable of destroying the house just doubled.”

Sam hung up the phone, then simply held Anansi close for a long while. He shared a silent, worried glance with Dean- neither of them knew what to say. Anansi made a little sigh of contentment as he hugged Sam back. Sam's stomach knotted at the juxtaposition of such an innocent child & such a problematic power. He rocked his son gently while making soothing noises and patting Anansi’s back.

“Mal, gentle.” Dean warned when Malek gripped his thumb & index finger. “That's good.”

“You want to switch?”

“No, we’re okay. Right, Mal?” Malek looked up at him and smiled. Dean stared at Sam with visible concern. “You okay?”

“No.”

The brothers sat quietly for several seconds before Dean huffed a small laugh, causing Sam to raise an eyebrow.

“Just imagine when they start roughhousing.” Dean explained what had amused him.

“You sure you don't want in on this parenthood thing?” Sam smiled halfheartedly.

“Baby battle royale.” Dean shook his head, then muttered. “My baby would win.”

“Seriously?” Sam’s voice was a bit lighter, pulling from the worried thoughts by the absurd distraction. “Against telekinesis & super strength?”

“My baby could bless weapons.”

“You were a thirty year old man and you couldn't bless weapons.”

“Just think about Dyl, but tiny- a tiny, rosy cheeked killing machine.”

“I hate to break this to you, but I’m guessing Dyl gets a good amount of his gusto from being a nephilim.” Sam countered. “Unless you're planning on making some pretty big lifestyle changes, your baby's going to be human.”

“Batman’s human.”

“Yes, batman is human.” Sam conceded the point.

Ruby & Kay appeared by the front door. Both Sam & Dean let out sighs of relief at the sight of reinforcements. Kay quickly took Malek off Dean's hands as Ruby rushed over to Sam & Anansi.

“Please tell me you've got something.” Sam greeted her.

“Warded wristbands.” Ruby held up two little strips of black fabric. “These should work until he figures out how to undo buttons.”

“I guess they don't make handcuffs in infant sizes.” Dean joked, earning a less than delighted expression from Sam.

Sam held Anansi while Ruby started putting the first wristband on their son. As soon as both buttons on the inch wide strip of cloth had been buttoned Anansi started fidgeting & huffing. He flailed his other arm, causing a pile of books several feet away to tip off the edge of a side table.

“You're okay, Ani.” Sam reassured as Ruby finished putting on the second band. Once it was on Anansi looked around the room, stretched his arms at various objects, then began crying. Ruby picked him up and held him to her chest.

“Don't cry, sweetie.” She said in a delicate voice while rocking gently from side to side. “It's just for a little bit. We just want you to be safe.”

“Alex would get uncomfortable if there was anti-magic warding.” Kay suggested as a comparison. “He said it made the colors dull & the Earth didn't hum- things like that. He seemed less energetic, but I don't think it was actually painful- Whether this is like that, I don't know.”

“Does it feel weird, Ani?” Ruby whispered, then kissed the top of his head. After a minute his crying faded into huffing & pouting. Before too long he started to blink slower & slower until he fell asleep in Ruby's arms.

“You two,” Kay nodded to Sam & Ruby. “are completely fucked.”

#job & family #Deleted Scenes #Deleted Scenes: Aftermath

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scozziesquash · 6 years ago

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Gold Nationals 2019

History Since Scozzie’s inception in 2011, we’ve attended every National Championship – Gold, Silver and Bronze. Gold Nationals is consistently regarded as the Superbowl of junior squash and is the pinnacle event annually for the top 32 kids in the country. The history books will present an incredible statistic showing at least one Scozzie Gold National Champion if 6 of the previous 8 years. Our multiple time champions include Sean Hughes, Elle Ruggeiro and Meghna Sreedhar, who won her 2nd National title last year in 2018. Meghna was our only previous winner and playing in 2019… could she make it a hat trick of championships or would there be the birth of a new Scozzie legend?!

Preparation 2019 was also S2’s first ever – following from the Scozzie evolution on March 1st. We qualified 18 players, the most of any squash program in the United States. We had two number 1 seeds in the U17 and U13’s and had entrants qualified in 9 of the 10 age divisions. Those achievements alone are something we’re exceptionally proud of and in itself, qualification for Charlottesville was a phenomenal feat. But S2 is an ambitious and competitive program and we strived for more! The kids have worked their socks off in preparation and we felt confident that never have we been more ready. But a National Championship is always a rollercoaster – there is ups, downs and non stop pulsating adrenaline as 290 kids aim to claim one of the ten coveted NC’s on offer across the 60 hours of competition. It’s the most prestigious title in the game and the time had finally arrived to deliver… read on to hear all about it.

Shah-mazing Christian Shah, take a bow. One of the last remaining Scozzie originals, in his 8th successive season as a Scozzie, delivered the performance of a lifetime. He entered as the number 5 seed and was faced with an extremely difficult draw to navigate. But, he’s the man who thrives on a challenge, absolutely no matter the difficulty and at the 2019 Gold Nationals, he took the U17 division and set it alight. His Saturday performances will be remembered for years to come and his performance on the biggest stage were a joy to watch.

R1 – A rematch against a tough opponent he edged past in 4 games at the Boston JCT less than a month ago. This time, he learnt from that experience, adjusted the game plan and this time it was a comfortable 3-0 victory. R2 – A tough opponent he fought back from at the US Open ,from 2-0 down to win 3-2. This time, he recalled that experience, implemented the necessary tactical adjustments and sealed another decisive victory in a far less stressful match this time around. Quarter Finals – His seeding had been met, but he strived for more. A tough match up against a top 4 seed was presented and another devastating Christian performance was delivered. 3-0 victory and he clinched his first seeding upset of 2019. The level of squash he displayed was hitting new highs and there was a sense of bigger and better things to come. Semi Finals – Arguably the hardest round at Gold Nationals. Players only have a couple hours of recovery time between matches to physically reset and game plan accordingly. Not only that, Christian now faced one of the hottest players in the country, who had just defeated the top seed in the round previous. Was the hill too high? No it was not. Unquestionably, one of the greatest performances ever seen at a US National Event. Christian played the match of his life and only dropped 10 points in total, as he set the world alight, steamrolling past the current National Champion in record breaking time. This one couldn’t be ignored, the world was now watching. Christian Shah is the real deal and playing the squash of his life. A dream come true to reach a National Championship final after 8 years of hard work in the making. Final – Dreams want fairytale endings, but dreams don’t always come true… To be in a National final was a dream, to win was a goal. Christian lost out to the newly crowned 3x National Champion in a heartbreak finale, going down 3-1. Game 2 was pivotal and unfortunately this time, Christian didn’t get the necessary breaks. A heroic comeback saw him win game 3 and push all the way through Game 4, but it was Conor’s day and congratulations to him. Losses don’t come any tougher than this, but Christian left it all out there and put together the tournament of his life. He can be so proud of everything he put in and forever that will far outweigh the disappointment of defeat. What a weekend Christian, an unbelievable achievement!

Quarter Finalists in Every Division A proud part of S2 is the diversity represented. For a record breaking third time, we had a quarter finalist at Gold Nationals in the U11, U13, U15, U17 and U19’s. Our guys trust the process and success is delivered every step along the way. A perfect 50-50 split, three males and three females reached the quarters. Our youngest – Reghan aged 10 through to our 2x National Champion Meghna in the U19’s. We had Shaam in his down year at U17’s make it 3, with Maya making it a family double in the GU15’s and our 3x JCT Champion this season, Winston made it 6. All six worked so hard for this and reaching top 8 in the country is something to be exceptionally proud of… well done!

Top 8, becomes top 7, which becomes top 6… If the top 8 finish wasn’t already impressive enough, our guys went that extra yard to create an even more impressive statistic. Meghna won 7th after only aging up in November. Maya came 6th in one of the toughest divisions – GU15’s. Shaam bounced back like the champion he is to win 5th place in his down year and cap a brilliant season, which brought so much success Nationally and Internationally. His performance in the Classic Plate final was extremely impressive, as he defeated the #2 seed 3-0 in style.

We also had two semi finalists in the U13 and U11s. Winston valiantly battled the flu all weekend, but unfortunately was too sick to finish his 3/4 play off. Reghan fought like we’ve never seen her fight before and was so close to yet another upset in the GU11 3-4 Play off, before losing in a barn burner 5 games. Reaching the semis went above and beyond her 5-8 seeding and the future is so bright for both Winston and Reghan, two of our future superstars.

Headlining Highlights GN 2019 was so much bigger than just finishing positions. It’s also the event where we say farewell to our graduating seniors, always one of the hardest things every year. The graduating trio included; Lauren (Amherst), Alexis (Cornell) and Teddy (F&M), who have collectively accumulated 20 years of Scozzie training… we’re going to miss you guys dearly! We were so happy the final junior tournament was a memorable one for all three. Teddy had two huge 5 game victories to finish top 16, his best ever. Alexis had a great R2 win to finish 21st and Lauren had to play Meghna in An All Scozzie R1 at her last ever junior Nationals. Already counting down the days until you join the Alums for our annual Turkey Bowl in Thanksgiving morning, as the Scozzie’s aim to avenge their 2018 defeat to the Alums!

As well as our graduating seniors, we also had some four first time qualifiers for Golds. Huge well done to Nikhil, who received a special mention at the awards dinner on Saturday evening, for being the 2nd Most Improved player, climbing over 50 ranking spots in the last year. He and his sister Anika both qualified for the first time and both savored their first ever Gold Nationals wins… a memory to last a lifetime guys!

Sameer and Matt W also qualified and made major imprints at their first GN. Sameer and Matt were both so close to achieving a R1 upset. Sameer lost out in 5 games and Matt in 4, Matt’s opponent then went on to win the tournament, so the game he won looks even better now!

Finally, Kristen played some fantastic squash to come 11/12 in the GU17 – after almost taking out the #2 seed first up. Devon won three matches in a row in her first ever U17 tournament to win the Plate. Aiden and Colten both made runs in the BU13 Consolation whilst in their down years.

What a weekend, what a season so far. Incredibly proud of all 18 Scozzie’s for the way you represented themselves with integrity all weekend, reflecting on all performances (wins and losses), quickly digesting the appropriate learning experiences and always positively moving forward. A group of champions on and off court, we’re proud to have such a tremendous group representing S2 at our first Nationals. Two weeks until Silvers and three weeks until Bronzes, lots of fun (and hard work!) still to be had!

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uprootedandroaming · 7 years ago

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August 16-17: Yellowstoning in Two Parts

We've been in Yellowstone for the better part of 16 hours, but for as much as we've done today it feels like we've been here at least a week. Against the odds, we were able to distill at least two days worth of sight-seeing into less than 24 hours -- no small task for the biggest National Park in the nation, one that spans over 2-million acres.

Make no mistake about it: Yellowstone is enormous. So expansive, in fact, that it has road signs for other landmarks in the park, and those landmarks are sometimes upwards of 45 miles away. Yellowstone is its own entity, a silent, sprawling green-and-blue-and-brown giant singular in its rustic timelessness. Teddy Roosevelt was talking about Yellowstone (along with several other national parks) when he said "our people should see to it that they are preserved for their children and their children’s children, with their majestic beauty all unmarred.” His quotation rings through the generations: The park is a wild oasis mostly untouched by the meddling (and often pulverizing) hands of humankind.

Take our first day here, for instance. Within the first 12 hours, three bison came within two feet of our car, a grizzly bear loomed some 200 yards in front of us in a grassy valley near Dunraven Pass, a herd of at least 14 mountains goats crossed our path on the way down from Mount Washburn, and four elk grazed a mere stone's throw away in a field along the Yellowstone River. I don't know if this is a typical First Day in Yellowstone, but given the impressive prevalence of wildlife around seemingly every turn, I have a strong feeling it ain't out of the ordinary.

We saw a baby mountain goat suckling milk from its mother's utter, twenty feet in front of us, on Dunraven Pass. At least 12 other dunky-eyed goats meandered around the same area, chewing grass and kicking up dirt on occasion. Caitlin and I walked warily past, knowing how aggressively protective mothers can be over their kin. The mother, as it turned out, gave us no lip, but a grizzled old wisegoat, seemingly the Respected Elder of the pack, huffed at me when I knelt down to take a picture of him gnawing on some greenery. The message was clear: move along, buddy, or get the horn.

A little further down the trail, within half a mile of the parking lot, we found a group of fellow hikers peering out over a grassy valley. What was it? A grizzly. He was 200 yards away at least, but with a pair of binoculars given to Caitlin from her Papa, we could see him rustling the vegetation and walking lazily over the landscape. Papa used those binoculars in the seventies, apparently. As much of an adrenaline rush it would be to see a rugged Grizzly up close and personal, I'm not sure I’d to be in a situation where I could clearly see a 600-pound behemoth without the aid of 40-year-old binoculars.

The bison, I found, were surprisingly calm. It was also interesting to find them traveling alone. I always figured they traveled in packs, but what the hell do I know, anyway? One three occasions, traffic came to a standstill so a bison could lumber along the side of the road, looking like some lonesome hitchhiker with an alcohol problem, face hair shaggy and dirty and matted like Marley's dreadlocks. Warranted or not, these burly, beaten creatures elicit a guttural sense of sadness and despair. They're noble creatures, sure, but there's something undoubtedly weary and downtrodden about them. Perhaps their nobility is derived from that lonesome weariness.

I wish I could write more, but it's already 11:30, and I must be up a 5:30 tomorrow to enjoy the final day in Yellowstone. We did so much today that it seems like a fever dream. Here's a bite-size recap of our First Day:

- We listened to a family of Canadians (or Minnesotians? or North Dakotians?) crack jokes at Old Faithful about "a bunch of dumb people sitting around watching water come out of the ground" -- in a typically hilarious accident.

- We smelt the sulfur and felt the fine refreshing steam of the Grand Prismatic Spring, a hot bubbling cauldron 500-feet across colored in brilliant oranges and greens from microorganisms -- extremophiles, as they're called, organisms that live in temperatures once believed to be too hot to harbor life .

- We hiked a 6.2 mile loop, chock full of sweeping views of the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone and the Grand Teton, to a fire watch tower at the peak of Mt. Washburn -- 10,000 feet above sea level.

- We ended the day at Hayden Valley, relaxing atop a hill and gazing out across a rolling field that resembled something out of Super Mario World.

I don't know what awaits us tomorrow, but if involves more bison I'll have no reason to be disappointed.

We'd been lying lazily on a hill overlooking the Hayden Valley for at least two hours when the coyote first showed its face. It was white and gray, and from our vantage point, seated on this grassy hill with fellow tourists speaking German and Indian and various other languages, he was little more than a white dot bouncing through the grass and along the river front.

Thankfully Caitlin had purchased a pair of nice binoculars from a outfitting store in a village earlier in the day. So now, when viewed through the two lenses of this nifty contraption, the coyote looked like a significantly bigger patch of white -- we could at least make out his face, his body, his actions. He dug, perhaps for worms. He lifted his leg to pee twice and flung dirt on the urine with his front paws -- not out of shame, but as a matter of simple instinct.

He peered across the river at a deteriorating corpse on the opposite shore. Word rippled through the crowd earlier that evening about a trio of grizzlies who had descended upon the cadaver at dawn and tore at its meat and flesh. Through the binoculars, it now looked like nothing more than a bundle of jagged bones -- perhaps some skin, here and there. Not much of a meal left for anyone.

The Hayden Valley near sunset is surely one of the most still and serene places in Yellowstone. The valley, with its palette of browns and greens, pours itself in front of you, as far as the eye can see, in both directions. A river -- Yellowstone River -- flows lazily around an elbow and continues northward. In the far distance, maybe half-a-mile away, a dense forest of aspens veils unknown creatures. The whole scene is an arena, a stage, a stadium; the hill we lounge on is the grandstand, the tourists the fans. The wildlife, then, are the warriors, the actors, players. Are they conscious of our gaze? Do they know they're entertainment? If so, do they even care?

High-powered cameras and binoculars, some on tripods, direct their gaze toward the stage. With no tripod as a crutch, I raise the high-quality, fairly-priced novice binoculars to my eyes and

reacquaint myself with our friend, the prancing coyote. What has developed in his story?

A pair of whooping cranes appears in front of him, near the shoreline. The duo sees him. He's clearly interested, but he's been spotted; he is without clothes. Thus begins a slow-but-tense dance between our friend and the two cranes: the coyote creeps back and forth in front of them, perhaps attempting to hypnotize them with his sleepy motions. At intervals he moves a little closer. He's about 10-feet away from a potential dinner when the cranes whoop and spread wing, drifting to a safer distance, but still close enough to entice the coyote.

This memorizing waltz repeats for 20 minutes or so, ending when the coyote realizes the futility of his efforts. He doesn't have a prayer without the element of surprise. Thus he goes back to the soggy dirt near the river and digs for (perhaps) more worms. These slippery, flaccid cylinders may not as be as tender as sweet crane filet, but I suppose slippery cyclinders are better than an empty, rumbling tummy during a long, cold night. Eventually he trots northward down the riverbank and we lose sight of him.

Nature does not move swiftly. It takes patience. People grow anxious; we want things now. Sex and explosions. Touchdowns, text messages, frozen dinners, news, emails, SLAM DUNKS, stock reports; now, now, now, now, NOW! I'm on my back, using my backpack as a head rest. I cross my legs. Uncross them. I read a few lines out Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Close the book, close my eyes. Open them. I grow restless. Nature, though, doesn't give a bison's ass about my impatience. It has no critics to impress. It doesn't always play to its audience. The show it puts on each night unfolds methodically, as though unwatched, like a baseball game or a piece of great art in the midst of creation.

The three bison grazing through the valley this evening are a prime example of time slowed to its measured, natural pace. They are impressive beasts, to be sure -- especially up close, with their dense fur and big, thick skulls -- but not particularly interesting to watch from a distance. They eat grass, walk a few yards ahead, lay down, eat some more grass, repeat. They're like your average beef cow, although much more physically foreboding. Plus, these gargantuans can be downright dangerous if provoked. Signs throughout the park note their docile nature, but caution that despite a seemingly mellow temperament, these beasts are wild, for heaven's sake, and can leap fences and run up to 35-miles per hour if hot and bothered. Please do not pet the wildlife.

The sun continued its nightly arch toward the horizon. There is an entire valley behind our backs, too, beautiful and flowing in its own right, though its not the main attraction; a minor stage. No one wants to battle a setting sun to search for a grizzly or a coyote when there is ample action going on right across the way, on the sun-and-shadow drenched Hayden. And here, indeed, comes the action: about an hour before dusk, someone spots a brown dot in the distant wood line. Bear or bison? A question asked perhaps millions of time through Yellowstone's 145-year history.

Bear, as it turned out. Big predator, an A-list celebrity: now it was game on. Would this woolly ball of dynamite mosey down to that bony unidentified corpse soaking in the water along the river's lip? Would he rip the rest of it to shreds, a majestic act of brutal beauty before our dumb, lusting eyes? Would our friend the coyote, who was heading toward the bear's jurisdiction, amble onto this hairy long-toothed ogre and inadvertently start some sort of...ruckus?

No, he wouldn't do any of that. Again, nature is indifferent; it is not here for your enjoyment, thank you very much. It will do as it does and that's that; no frills. The grizzly climbed down a small hill, rolled around in the grass for a bit, then continued his journey west, out of sight behind a patch of trees. Caitlin and I scooped up our belongings, bungled down the hill, hopped into the Prius: we had come all the way here, to the beautiful Hayden Valley in gorgeous Yellowstone. We weren't going to miss the chance to see the whites of a grizzly's eyes, despite my realization a day earlier that I had no desire to slip within a baseball's toss of a bear's presence.

The closest pullover we could find was at least half-a-mile from where a group of gazing lustful human pupils had gathered to catch sight of the grizzly. The sun had already laid itself to rest behind the western mountains, thus scant light remained. We were too far away to rediscover the bumbling grizzly. Was anything else out there? With nothing to lose, we pulled over, hoping to catch sight of something -- anything -- before we started the dark, hour-long journey back to our campsite near Lewis Lake.

We saw them right away: a herd of six elk, shrouded in patchy dusk, picking around at a plot of grass near a creek over 100 yards away. We parked the Prius -- the second car there -- and ran about 50 yards out onto a skinny trail on a hill. Within 10 minutes the hill was painted thick with 30-some tourists -- speaking in diverse tongues, pointing, watching. The elk. Yes, not A-list celebrities, but perhaps B, behind grizzlies and moose and other beasts rarely seen. Would they come closer, so us lonesome humans could make some sort of primal, ancient connection with them, animal-to-animal?

It was me who spotted it first, unless someone else had seen it and simply kept their wise trap shut. A bear, another grizzly, across a pond, walking north, toward the innocent herd of mulling elk. Ol' Yogi was a light brown haze at this point, the light all but gone, yet I saw him crawl along the waterfront and behind a patch of tall trees, just around the corner from those delicious elk. I lost sight of Yoge and never saw him again. Maybe he found a cozy spot of dirt and settled down for a quick late-late-afternoon nap. Maybe he needed a cigarette. Who knows?

Nothing in the group of passive elks' collective mannerisms showed they detected a predator in the area. They continued chewing cud, calm as ever. Yet before long they slipped into the water, swam across the river, walked up the adjacent stony embankment, and continued out onto a thin grassy peninsula. There were at least two baby elk in the bunch. Caitlin found this quite cute. It was 85-percent night by now, and the temperature was quickly dropping into the 40's, so we retraced our steps up the beaten trail and climbed into the warmth of the car.

We drove past those friendly elk on the road home. You could hardly see them through the gray-black semi-darkness, but they were there nonetheless, eating grass, snorting, and silently gauging threats around them. They didn't seem to realize large groups of idiotic humans were staring at them through complicated devices that enlarged and clarified their furry features. The damn elk wouldn't have done anything differently if they would have known. These are creatures, after all, not actors. Sometimes they deliver the drama, other times not, but in the end you're glad you had a rare chance to see them do anything at all, untamed brothers and sisters that they are.

#yellowstone #road trip #journal #bison #hayden valley #old faithful

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