#he’s just flat out honest with Mike

[showtoonzfan]

I know this film was forgettable, not perfect, and everyone didn’t really care for it when it came out, but damn, this scene was good in my opinion. It shows that even if Pixar falls off the rails from time to time, you can always tell they never loose that spark completely that made them a special and important studio in the first place.

#also I love the way the cinematography looks it’s gorgeous #“you can mess up over and over again and the whole world loves you” best line #this scene really shows how Mike is at his lowest point and the way he snaps is realistic and justified #and I love how Sully doesn’t try to excuse himself #he’s just flat out honest with Mike #unrelated #Disney #Disney movies #walt disney animation #Pixar #Pixar animation #monsters inc #monsters university

[likegoldintheair]

Will reaches out then, tenderly tucking a stray lock of hair behind Mike's ear, unable to stop himself even though Mike's hair is drenched in blood. They both are; their clothes ripped and stained a deep red, their hands and arms and faces, too. Will doesn't know how much of the blood is actually their own, and how much of it is- he doesn't really want to think about it, to be honest.

He swallows as he lets his hand slip down the side of Mike's neck and over his collarbone, tries not to look at the trail of smeared blood left in its wake, stopping only when he can press the flat of his palm against Mike's chest.

He takes a deep breath, tries to focus on the steady beats of Mike's heart against his hand, a welcome reminder that Mike's still here; that he's a living, breathing thing, his skin warm under the touch of Will's hand. Tries to ignore the way his mind catches, almost like an old record, as the same words repeat themselves over and over: I almost lost him.

Mike shifts slightly, his own hand coming up to rest gently over Will's. "We should- we should clean up."

—

The shower is not built for two people, but the mere thought of leaving Mike's side for more than a few seconds is more than Will can take. He stares at the shower for a moment, then glances back to Mike.

"Do you- I can wait, if you want me to."

Mike tilts his head a little, a small uptick in the corner of his mouth. He shakes his head, "No, it's fine. We can- you can stay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Mike breathes out, his fingers finding Will's momentarily. "I want you to stay."

They undress in silence and then climb into the shower, arms and legs a tangled mess. Will looks at Mike, traces the streaks of blood covering his face with his eyes. It should probably freak him out more than it does, he thinks. Standing here in a shower, naked and covered in blood, with Mike. Instead, he feels more at ease than he has in a long, long time.

He reaches around Mike then to turn on the water, draws in a shaky breath when Mike's hand finds its way to his waist, steadying him. They make quick work of cleaning up, helping each other to wash the blood out of their hair, scrubbing at their bodies until the skin is an angry red.

Will feels wringed out and a bit out of it afterward, as if his body is still trying to process it all. He's tired, too. The kind of tired that finds its home deep in your bones and makes your entire body ache, and all he wants to do is sleep. He wants to close his eyes but knows all too well that sleep isn't something they can really afford these days. But maybe, just maybe, they can allow themselves the freedom of one night of sleep.

He follows Mike out of the bathroom and leaves the towel in a wet pile on the floor, along with their clothes that are stained and ripped beyond mending. He'll throw it all out tomorrow. For now, all he can do is focus on the feeling of soft, clean fabric surrounding him as he crawls into bed next to Mike.

He takes in a shuddering breath, pushing down the sudden pang of sadness as he realizes that this might be the only night like this that they'll have in a very long time. He presses in closer to Mike, clings to him, and allows himself to breathe him in. His right hand finds Mike’s, their fingers lacing together, and when Mike gives his hand a gentle squeeze, Will finally lets his eyes drift close.

He doesn’t know how much time they have left, if any at all. He doesn’t know much about anything anymore, to be honest. But he do know that they are just at the beginning, that what might feel like the world is ending is actually a prologue, and he's going to make sure that they have more time than this.

#byler #posting my wips as a way to a) stop being weird about writing in general #and b) find a new way to enjoy something i still hold very near and dear to my heart #i might just post wips or drabbles once in a while #and that'll be it

[stobinesque]

The last post I reblogged has me thinking about how Lucas is treated by his friends/the wider UD gang in-universe/from a more Watsonian perspective. Because here are the facts:

Lucas has spent most of his childhood being explicitly/overtly bullied for his race [being called "Midnight" by their season 1 bullies]¹

At the beginning of Season 2, Mike clearly assumes that Lucas agreed to go as Winston for no other reason than both of them being black. But when called on this, Mike cannot bring himself to admit that's what he was thinking. (He also does not apologize to Lucas.)

Until Billy attacks him, Lucas doesn't really know why Max is trying to avoid being seen with him when Billy picks her up/at her house, but having been on the receiving end of "my family is racist so I can't be seen with you," whether or not you actively know the reason someone is trying to hide you from another person, it feels alienating. Also, he absolutely figures it out in hindsight.

But since at first he doesn't know that Billy inexplicably and aggressively hates him/doesn't want him interacting with Max, from Lucas' perspective he gets attacked by a white boy 4-5 years his senior and almost twice his size out of literally nowhere. Said boy explicitly declares to him "You're dead, Sinclair."²

Lucas, upon entering high school, decides that he wants to acquire enough social pressure to protect him and his friends from the bullying they had to deal with throughout middle school. Neither Mike nor Dustin seem willing/able to understand why he might be interested in that protection.

There are a couple different ways to interpret Lucas (and Patrick)³ choosing to stay with Jason and Andy, but I think it's reasonable to assume that Lucas would be able to recognize a mob/witch hunt forming, and I also think it is reasonable to assume that Lucas knows that mobs tend to target the most vulnerable members of a population, and that he himself both as a black kid and a member of Hellfire is at risk.

Nancy knows for a fact that Jason was at the army surplus store in search of a gun, and while it is implied that she informs the group of this, they seem not to take that into any consideration when planning because

Taken altogether, this paints a picture that in-universe, all of Lucas' friends should be intimately aware that he has experienced overt racism for his entire life. But, the Halloween costume argument also suggests that even though they're all aware of said racism, none of the white members of the group really feel comfortable talking about it. Lucas does explicitly call Mike out on thinking that he would be Winston (or that Mike can't be) "because he's black," and Mike flat out lies to his face. If this is one of the first times Lucas has confronted one of the Party members about their own implicit racism, I think it would be reasonable for him to walk away from that exchange deciding that race isn't something he can have honest conversations with his friends about.

We also never see Billy attacking Lucas addressed on-screen after it happens. Which means we never get to see anyone check-in with Lucas about what happened, or see him process what happened.

So come season 4 Lucas has great reason both to want more social capital/protection and to feel uncomfortable explicitly talking to his friends about why that might be. (Especially with the added baggage of Billy having just been killed, which assuredly inspired a lot of complicated feelings for Lucas, especially because of how much his death impacted Max.) Instead, he makes one simple request of his friends (who he both wants at his game and still wants to play D&D with them): get Eddie to reschedule the game. And, sure, it's Eddie's fault that the game doesn't get rescheduled. But it is absolutely on Mike and Dustin that they didn't choose to skip (which honestly probably would have forced Eddie to reschedule anyway??).

So for the most important game of the season, Lucas winds up without his friends or his sister there to watch him make the winning shot, and he misses out on the D&D game that he wanted to play with his friends. It's entirely possible that Lucas still would have decided to go to the afterparty even if Mike and Dustin had come to the game. But I think it's reasonably likely that he'd have gone to celebrate separately with them! Or at least would have left the party early, rather than getting so drunk he pukes the next morning. So when Jason riles the whole team into becoming a mob out for blood, Lucas ends up stuck between a rock and a hard place. He can't really say or do anything to stop Jason that doesn't also put a target on his back. Sticking with him is the best way to 1) ensure his own physical safety and 2) have any hope of protecting Eddie/his friends.

And then Lucas risks his life to lead Jason & co. off Eddie's scent and bikes eight miles to come warn Dustin that he's in danger. He actually explicitly says that Dustin is in terrible danger. Lucas (and, honestly, all of the Party--except arguably Will) at this point is intimately aware of the fact that a white boy fueled by rage can been homicidally dangerous. So the fact that even after knowing for a fact that Jason has acquired a gun, the whole team send Lucas, Erica and Max to the Creel house without weapons, protection, or any sort of plan as to how to deal with Jason & co. if they turn up is not only baffling, but honestly feels downright callous.

From a purely Watsonian perspective, Lucas has every right and reason to be absolutely livid with his friends. Their consistent inability to recognize or acknowledge the racism Lucas experiences directly results in Lucas and his sister being attacked and nearly killed--and not even by the supernatural bad guy.

¹The show never returns to this, but to me it is broadly illustrative of the racial climate in Hawkins

²Please do not waste your breath trying to argue with me that Billy "wasn't really trying to kill him." I honestly don't care either way. He threatened to kill a 13-year-old boy whose only "crime" was being black. There is no other explanation for Billy's treatment of Lucas that makes sense, since he explicitly targets him, and not Dustin or Mike. Regardless of whether or not Billy had genuine homicidal intent, Lucas had no reason to think otherwise in that moment. I have no interest in arguing this point with anyone.

³Patrick is another excellent example of the show being unable to meaningfully reckon with with its racial implications, but that's its own post.

#lucas sinclair #stranger things meta #meta #read.txt #...not gonna main tag this #cw antiblackness

[callmewrinkles3]

Message In A Bottle - DR3 x fem!OC

Masterlist

Summary: After Dan lets something slip in their phone call after FP2 in China, Em makes a split second decision to make sure he’s ok. Three flights later it’s worth every moment of it.

Warnings: Smut (18+ only!).

Word count: 8.6k

A/N: We know that 2022 won the poll, but we have been working on this one for quite a while!

April 2019

The alarm at one fifty in the morning was too loud as Em hit her phone to switch it off, rolling over to pick the offending object off the nightstand. If anyone had ever told her that she would be willingly awake so she could watch cars do a Formula One practice at two in the morning she’d call them a liar, but there she was. She dragged herself to the couch with her phone in one hand and a blanket in the other to create a cocoon to watch practice from.

She kept a look out for Dan’s yellow and black car, watching him take the track with ease. Her nerves were still high, she couldn’t forget how he looked when he’d DNF’d in Australia, and then the sadness in his voice when she called after the Bahrain race. She’d wanted to be there with him, but she couldn’t justify the cost of flights and it fucking sucked. Em missed her boys and the three weeks they’d been apart so far had been fucking awful. And it was nearly another week until she’d arrive in LA to go to Coachella with Dan.

Seeing Dan finish the practice near the top of the timings made her smile, and she texted a selfie of her face in the dark room along with a well done, proud of you to him. Watching him do media in that stupid yellow cap made her grin to see an actual smile on his face for the first time in weeks. Almost everything to do with Dan made her smile if she was honest and she couldn’t help it. Once he was on her screen she hit send on the text, watching as the moment his phone vibrated in his pocket he stilled for a millisecond. She could see how his expression and body language changed. For nearly anyone else it would have been unnoticeable, but Em wasn’t just anyone. Ten minutes later she had a response.

You were watching? It’s three in the fucking morning baby girl.

I couldn’t miss you driving.

Instead of another text as a response her phone buzzed with a call, Dan’s grin filling her screen. She answered, determined to keep happy with him.

“Hey Handsome, well done!” She said as Dan let out a sigh.

“Thanks. I…yeah. At least we finished. We made it through the practice and neither engine broke down.” There was no sassy reply, no silly comment, no nickname. It was worrying.

“Dan, you can’t perform miracles when the car is still developing. You were ahead of Pierre, you were barely behind Max. You beat Nico. You’re getting everything you can out of this car already. The points are coming, Babe, I promise.”

“Yeah.” He sounded dejected and she wanted to wipe his frown away. Dan’s face should never have a frown on it, he was built to smile. “I just miss you. Can you please just come out? Never mind, it’s stupid. Forget I said anything. It’s too fucking far away, I hate being thousands of miles away.”

It was the disappointment in his voice that made her make a split second decision.

“Dan…”

“Look, I have to go, we’ve got an engineering briefing and Mike wants to do some stretching. I’ll talk to you soon.”

He hung up without saying goodbye and that’s when Em knew just how bad it was. Her encouragement had helped him before in Melbourne, it had helped when they FaceTimed after the race in Bahrain, but this time it did nothing.

She checked the time - quarter to four in the morning. She could do this. Daniel deserved the effort. It took fifteen minutes to change, pack a backpack with some clothes, and order a taxi that was waiting outside her flat to bring her to Heathrow. The driver thought she was crazy with just her carry on, asking her questions.

“Where are you off to then, Luv?” He wondered, a proper Cockney accent asking questions.

“Last minute trip to China. A friend needs me.”

“Without a suitcase?”

“If I spend the time to pack I won’t make it in time. All I need is some clothes and I can sort everything else when I’m there.”

“Must be a really important friend for you to do a trip like this.” He smiled as he looked at her through the rear view mirror. Em just nodded, not really sure what to say.

She made it to the Hainian Air ticket counter and handed over her credit card to pay the disgustingly expensive ticket charge. It was about to wipe out most of her savings but seeing Dan’s face when she got in would be worth it. Before she boarded her first flight - the first of three because ew - she called Blake.

“Hey Ems, can I call you back? I’m about to go into a meeting.”

“I won’t be able to answer. Is Dan there?”

“No. What’s going on?” Her neighbour sounded confused and she grinned, half listening to the announcement that her flight would board shortly.

“I need you to organise a car to meet me in Shanghai International at ten fifteen in the morning to bring me to the track.”

“Ems. What the fuck?”

“I’m waiting to board my flight, I get into Shanghai in the morning. Blake he called me and he needs me. He’s not okay. So I’m about to get on a plane and I’m coming straight to the track. Can you get me a pass so I can get in?”

“Consider it done. You’re insane. You know that?”

“You adore me anyway.”

“Damn right I do, TimTam. I’ll book the car and make sure Dan doesn’t know. Text in between your flights?”

“Gotcha. And thanks. I’ve gotta go, we’re boarding.”

The fact that Blake didn’t argue with her meant that she was doing the right thing. Michael was the optimist in their group, he was the one who insisted everything would turn out great at all times. Meanwhile Blake was the realist. It was part of his job as Dan’s manager. He was realistic and honest and blunt when he needed to be. It was part of why she adored him so much. This had to be a good thing.

If you asked Em exactly what she did on her layovers she couldn’t tell you. The one in Brussels was long, eating breakfast and people watching to get her through it. It was getting to evening in Shanghai and she wanted to be as on time as she could be. The main thing she did was cancel her flight to LA for Coachella. This trip was wiping her out enough, the festival wasn’t happening. Maybe next year she could do it. At least the BA flight was the refundable option, it’d cover part of the cost of her flight to China.

The final thing before boarding the flight to Beijing was texting Dan that she was in client meetings all day and wouldn’t be able to talk to him, but good luck for FP3 and she’d try to call him before qualifying. On board the flight Em just tried to sleep for most of it. It was ten hours long and she spent most of it with a crappy pillow behind her head and thin blanket over her lap thanks to the broken sleep the night before. The food wasn’t great but it wasn’t the worst, and she forced down the breakfast they gave her. Nerves made it hard to eat, so nervous about seeing Dan. Would he actually be happy to see her? She hoped so. He said he wanted her there, but it was easy to say that when she wasn’t able to actually get there.

When she arrived in Beijing and connected her phone to Wi-Fi there was a text from Dan saying he missed her. She couldn’t reply yet, UK Emmy should be in bed before getting up for FP3. The other texts were from Blake confirming that someone would be waiting for her at arrivals, and how to get her pass and where to go once she made it to arrivals. Passport control was a pain, but she made it through after some questions about the last minute booking and why Shanghai. Blake’s texts confirming the pass and photos of her at other races getting her through.

The long layover in Beijing gave her a chance to drink yet more coffee and eat some breakfast to prepare for the chaos that was about to ensue. The two hour long flight went by quickly, and once she was off the final plane for a few days she walked straight out into baggage claim to search for whoever from Renault got the task of picking her up. Instead of a driver or someone in a team shirt Blake stood there, a wide grin on his face as she hugged him.

“I figured it was easier to just pick you up myself. Remember when you said that I just needed to get you a pass for Melbourne? That you didn’t want to go  to any other flyaway races?” She laughed at his joking tone, watching as he took in her lack of luggage. “Where is everything?”

“If I packed I’d miss my flight. I’ll need to pick up something because I’ve just got a few tees and extra underwear, nothing else. How long will it take to get to the track?”

“I thought you’d want to go to the hotel?”

“If I get near a bed I’m falling asleep for the day, so track it is. How is he?”

“Honestly? Not great. Frustrated, he reminds me of the end of last year. 

Her heart broke at Blake’s words, thinking about the way Dan had nearly given up at the end of last year. They’d worked so hard to help him this year and if it didn’t work she didn’t know what they’d do. The hour drive to the circuit felt like a lifetime, Blake telling her to nap on the drive so she could see him when she got there. It was scanning her pass and going straight to the Renault garage, waving at the mechanics she’d met in Australia and nodding at Cyril, who had a wide smile when he saw her.

Practice was nearly over but she watched the end from his drivers room. The last thing she wanted was Dan seeing her in public, she wanted their reunion to be private. She knew everyone would keep that she was there a secret so it was safe until he came in. Instead she sat in the small room with the tiny tv, watching Dan’s car solidly in P13. It was only practice as she counted down, but she knew he’d be devastated by it. Hearing him over the radio asking where he was compared to Nico hurt her heart and she wanted to run down to the garage to see him. It might have been practice but things weren’t good at all for him.

The cameras were focused on Dan getting out of the car to talk to his engineer, flashing a wide grin at the lenses. She could tell it was fake as soon as she saw it, his eyes not lit up like usual. All Em wanted to do was run down to him and wrap him in her arms, but she couldn’t save him from the media questions. She muted the tv as media rounds began, wanting to see his face but not listen to him blame himself. A couple more minutes and he could relax and be himself, she could hold him and be held by him and have that reminder that people cared about him for so many more reasons than just being a driver. They could hide from the world until his engineering meeting, and she’d stand in the garage to watch him in qualifying.

They cut from the interview with Daniel and her phone buzzed from with a text from Mike to bring her back to reality. As she opened her messages one from Dan came in, asking if she was watching. A quick I’ll talk to you in 5 xx was enough to stop him from calling her straight away, her message from Michael a warning that Dan was on his way back. 

She hated keeping anything from him, hated that she’d told him a lie that she was busy with clients and time zones so she couldn’t talk to him while she was flying. Lying to Dan just felt so, so wrong. She’d never drawn that line between them. From the moment they started texting she always answered the phone when Dimples called her. There’d been too many talks when they were on opposite sides of the world for her not to, too many times she’d gotten a call where she’d answer with sleep thick on her voice and he’d immediately curse and try to do timezone maths. For a man who knew so much about engineering and the physics of airflow, he couldn’t always do basic maths.

She sat there nearly vibrating with nerves and excitement as she heard three all too familiar Australian accents coming towards her. She didn’t know what they were talking about and she didn’t really care. If it was important she’d find out later, but Dan was right there and she’d get to see his big brown eyes in a moment. The door opened as Dan entered first. Blake and Michael grinned at her from behind him as Dan ranted before realising she was there.

“I know its a project but I don’t even know if I’ll finish the race. If I DNF tomorrow then I’m the first to do that since 2017. Another one in Baku and I’m the first to do that since Alonso and Sainz in 2015. It’s so… Emmy?”

Dan turned around and finally saw her sitting there with a smile on her face. His own lit up as he realised it was actually her, coming across the small room to pull her into a hug. His arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders as she pulled him in tightly, their height difference coming into play. She didn’t care that he was in his sweat soaked nomex fireproofs, that he smelled of sweat and fuel and rubber. Dan was there and she was there and despite the cost and hardship this hug was so worth it.

“You’re here?” He asked, barely more than a whisper.”

“Hi, Babe.” She smiled as she leaned against his body wile speaking so lowly that nobody else could hear her. There were times when she was sure that despite being a grown man, a professional athlete, Dan was so fragile that if she spoke too loudly he’d break. This felt like one of those times.

“What are you doing here?”

It broke her heart to take her hands from around his body but she knew he needed to look at her. His hands didn’t release her, just arms extending to give her space. The only real movement he made was to cup her cheek with his right hand, his thumb running along the soft skin.

“You asked me to come, so here I am.” She shrugged casually, acting as if crossing half the world in less than a day to see him was the most normal thing she could do in the world. Even in the surreal universe Dan lived in it wasn’t, but the awe on his face was so worth it. “And I know you’re going to say it so no, I can confirm you didn’t crash and hit your well protected head very hard. You’re not hallucinating. I’m really here. I’m real and a mess and I’ve spent too many hours on too many planes, but I’m real.”

He pulled her body against his before she could even think about it. It was the tightest hug she thought he’d ever given her, even closer than their first hug, but she wasn’t complaining about it. Em had taken three flights and dealt with awkward border patrol just so she could get a hug exactly like this one, so she held on and hugged him back. What she didn’t expect was Daniel to hide his face against her neck like a shy kid. She definitely didn’t expect to feel him place a soft kiss against her neck or his hands running up her back under her shirt as if his life depended on it, memorising every square millimetre of skin. As she felt him squeeze her tighter she just held him closer, ignoring the sweat and grime that would usually make her push him off.

“Thank you,” he whispered. It was so real and sincere that it broke her heart to hear him.

“You don’t need to thank me. I missed you too,” Em confessed. Saying it twice in twenty four hours was a lot for them, but it felt right to get it off her chest. Dan deserved to know she missed him whenever they weren’t together. “But you need to get changed, Babe.”

“What, do I stink too much?”

“Not as much as I do after travelling, but you have your engineering debrief. Go and I’ll have your lunch when you get back.”

She tried to ignore the disappointed whine Dan let out from the back of his throat. She ignored it the same way she ignored the exasperated breath he always released just before letting her go. She knew that little breath the same way she knew the back of her hand or the tattoos covering his thigh.

It was his little “I don’t want to do this” complaint. She’d heard it so many times before, especially early on dark mornings when he had to leave the comfort of her bed and the warmth of her body against his. It was the same little breath before his inevitable “I wish I could stay” when he had to go back to his hotel room alone instead of falling asleep with her in his arms. It was the same breath he let out when they had their final hug in an airport before she got on a flight to London and he flew to wherever the next race was, even though they just wanted to stay together.

This breath was exactly the same, but instead of letting her go so she could catch a plane, he was the one who had to leave to go to work.

“Are you having lunch with me?” He asked, looking down at her face and moving her hair from her shoulder.

“If you want me to.”

“I always want you to. And I can smell you, you don’t stink.” Dan grinned, stroking her cheek with his thumb and making her smile.

“I really do. I need to steal your deodorant. And maybe one of your shirts. I sort of didn’t pack anything to make my flight.”

“Whatever you want, it’s yours. But I do have a price. And it’s kind of expensive…”

Em didn’t need to be able to read minds to know what Daniel wanted. More than eighteen months of knowing him and almost a year of sleeping with him was enough for her to know his mind perfectly. She didn’t need to ask permission to put her hand on the back of his neck, push up on her tiptoes and meet him halfway to push their lips together. It had been more than three weeks since she’d seen him and she had no intention of flying home without at least one kiss. Even if all she’d gotten was a goodbye one. Blake and Michael had left the room when they were hugging and Em was so glad. She didn’t intend to have a full make out session right there in the middle of the room when she knew Dan needed to get ready and leave, but the second he deepened the kiss she was lost.

She missed this so much. She missed his kisses, the feeling of their tongues touching and the taste of his lips. She missed feeling him smile against her lips. She missed how his hands roamed her body like he was trying to remember every single inch of her even though he knew her by heart now. She missed tangling her fingers in his messy curls, the way he’d moan at the sensation and pull her even closer to him. She missed how he made her lose the entire concept of time because there was nothing better than Dan and being together.

She missed the way her lips turned red and tender thanks to stubble burn that matched the inside of her thighs, the way just that sensation could turn her on. She missed the wetness between her legs that appeared as if by magic when he touched her, and his cocky grin when she begged him to touch her because she was so desperate. She missed the butterflies in her stomach making a mess so big that she would come close to saying out loud what she’d barely admitted to herself. That she’d blurt out he was the best she’d ever had. The best sex, the best kisses, the best man she had opened her heart to and he’d made a home in it.

“Is that enough?” She asked while her lips still touched hers even as she spoke, trying in vain to hide the smile he’d put on her face. He didn’t need to answer, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for Daniel and she was so thankful for that because it was never enough for her either. Dan reached to kiss her again, running the top of his tongue against her lower lip, making her moan softly as he did. They stayed like that for longer than they should have until logic came roaring back to Em’s brain and she finally broke their kiss.

“You need to go.”

“Just another minute?”

“I’ll be right there with the boys waiting for you, ok? It’s not like I can go anywhere until I work out how I’m getting home. I’ll see you after your debrief for lunch.” She pecked his lips once before moving away.

“Monday is gonna be a fun day for us, yeah?”

“Go!” 

She left the room with one of Dan’s spare tees in her hand, along with a stick of deodorant. Michael pointed her to a bathroom so she could attempt to make herself look more human than she actually felt. A hair tie bunched the shirt at her hip instead of it being a dress, and she could act like she belonged in the paddock with her pass around her neck instead of just tagging along. Michael and Blake waited for her, walking across to Renault hospitality with her and ordering a caramel latte as she sat down.

“Lunch will be over in twenty, Dan should be back by then. Is he ok?” Michael asked, Em nodding as she took a sip of the drink.

“He’s doing better. We didn’t really have a conversation, I just let him get his feelings out. I thought that was more important. I promised him I’d be here for lunch.”

“Will caffeine get you through the day?” Blake asked and she shrugged.

“I think I got about six hours sleep on the flight? We left Brussels at two their time, so nine here. And arrived in Beijing at six in the morning. I’ll need chocolate and caffeine.” The three laughed, Mike putting a sponsor chocolate next to her coffee.

“It’s you, I figured you’d want some at the very least.”

“You know me too well, Mikey.”

Dan arrived as their lunches were being put on the table, sliding into the booth beside Em and hooking his foot around her ankle. His plate of meat and veggies looked unappetising to her, but Dan ate quickly while she picked at her chicken noodles.

“You ok?” He asked, Em nodding in response.

“Just tired. Food’s good though.” She made herself keep eating, letting the conversation and music wash over her as she did. She managed to finish the plate, following everyone back to the garage and standing in the back beside Blake. He handed her a set of black headphones with a silver Renault logo on one ear. The other had Emmy in small silver script. Em raised an eyebrow, Blake smiling at her expression.

“Dan wanted to make sure you could listen to his radio during qualifying and the race, no matter which ones you’re at. So he got you your own headphones.”

When Dan came down in his fireproofs with his race suit half done up he walked over to them, Em reaching out her arms for their hug. He pulled her close before they separated, doing up his suit and putting his helmet on.

“Go fast, Danny,” she whispered and saw his eyes crinkle in a grin, kissing the side of his helmet before he went back to the car and she stepped out from behind the tires to the viewing area. Nico was on his side of the garage getting ready and the last thing she wanted to do was get in anyone’s way.

If she was actually more awake and alert she’d have loved watching the different cars go past the garage. Since she’d met Dan she’d been to more races than she ever thought possible, and seeing the cars drive down the pit lane at slower speeds than on track hadn’t lost its shine. It was still weird to her that she was on nodding terms with multiple drivers, that she was on first name terms with a world champion. But there she was.

Seeing Dan’s name easily into Q2 made her grin, and the nail biting wait to see if he made it to Q3 was painful, but when he did it she squeezed Blake’s hand. It was the first time this season, but he was there. He was starting in the right half of the grid, the intense pride surging through her as she grinned.

Seeing him get to seventh and finish there at the end of qualifying? That was the icing on the cake. The garage celebrated the fourth row lockout for the team after a really solid qualifying performance. As Dan got out of the car he immediately made his way to them, wrapping them all in hugs. Em wanted to reach up and kiss him but they were in public, she couldn’t. It was a hug that lasted for slightly longer than appropriate, but neither of them could care.

They all agreed to head back to the hotel once Dan’s debrief was over, room service dinners and an early night. Tomorrow was too important to even think about staying for dinner in hospitality, sleep before the all important race the plan. Em could feel the exhaustion hitting her, a pilfered Red Bull from outside the energy station that she’d downed between two buildings barely helping her.

“Ems?” Blake asked, seeing how her steps had slowed.

“The jet lag just hit in full force. Ugh.”

“C’mon.” He went to put an arm around her shoulders but Dan got there first, slipping his arm around their waist as the four of them walked out. She was aware of the camera flashes going off but she didn’t care. It was hard enough to keep one foot going in front of the other. Once they were in the car she could hear the debate about where she was staying begin but she stayed out of it.

To her complete surprise it was Dan who won that debate. When he insisted Em should stay in his room because “it has two beds, it means nobody’s sharing a bed”, she thought he was joking. It was clearly an excuse made up for Michael and Blake to believe, but it worked because neither of them said anything about how bad an excuse it was. Friends could share rooms, it was more than fine. Just another little white lie that wouldn’t hurt anyone except Em every time she had to hear the word “friend” while Dan argued.

She pushed all that to one side as she walked down the long hallway of the hotel on their floor, Dan by her side. He had her backpack in one hand, his other one clasping hers tightly. She wasn’t letting herself overthink this. She wasn’t going to put words to her feelings because that was a dangerous road to go down. All she wanted was to lie in bed with Daniel, his arms around her and his lips pushing kisses to her forehead. Once that happened she’d be able to get a good nights sleep. It’d be even better if there were no clothes involved.

At least one part of her dream came true nearly immediately. As soon as the door was closed and the lock was flipped closed, Dan pulled her into a kiss. Their shirts were quickly removed, Dan pulling their bodies together with just her bra in between.

“So this room has two beds, huh? You always take the one by the window, want me to take the other one?” Emma joked, biting her lower lip in an attempt to hide the moan that she knew would leave her lips soon. Dan began pressing a series of kisses along her bare shoulder, reaching up the column of her neck and finishing at her earlobe as he began to speak.

“Nope. It was just a lame excuse to get you in my room. You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you sleep all the way over there,” he whispered in her ear, the shivers going all the way down her body from his lips barely touching her. It was the usual effect of his skin on hers. It happened every single time they were together, but after weeks apart it was always more intense.

“It’s not that far!”

“Too far for me.”

“But it looks comfy?” Em giggled while Dan lifted her and threw her onto the bed, crawling over her until his face was right in front of hers. She stared into his eyes as something in the air changed, Dan leaning down to kiss her. It was so soft it felt like either of them could break at any second, but when they separated he pulled her tightly to him. She knew this Dan. The one who was afraid she would disappear into thin air at any second. It wasn’t hard for her to realise he was still having a hard time comprehending she was right there in his arms.

“I’m real. I promise, Danny, I’m actually here. I’m not going anywhere, Baby,” she whispered, running her fingers through his messy curls and up and down the soft skin on his back. She’d do this all night if he needed the reminder that she was right there with him.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do. I came all the way to China just to see you so you’re stuck with me. At least for the weekend.”

“More like the whole month. We can make arrangements for the whole year, you can come with us.” It was half pleading and part of her was screaming to say yes even though she knew it was impossible.

“Danny, Baby, you know we can’t. We both have to work, there’s enough going on. But I’m right here for this one, and all the European ones too. Plus you and me in Austin again. Ok?”

“Fine.”

After they ordered and ate their meals they spent the evening curled up in bed with Criminal Minds playing lowly on the tv. It was soft kisses and Em’s fingers running through his hair to make sure he was relaxed. Dan fell asleep holding on to her and Em smiled, more than content to sit there in the quiet.

She didn’t really sleep that night. She never did, really. Not the night before a race she was attending. She was always nervous and pent up, and this night was worse because of how she’d gotten there. Usually she’d be able to relax the week before and get extra sleep, but her change of plans meant she was running on near empty. But she dozed in Dan’s arms as he slept peacefully, and his sleep was the most important to her.

The next morning they woke up to a knock on the door and “Mr Ricciardo, your requests have arrived!”. It was time to get up anyway, their usual making out before getting up replaced with the start of a race day. Michael arrived with Dan’s breakfast - and a chicken and cheese omelette for Em that she yelled a thanks for - before leaving them to eat. As she took a forkful Dan handed over the bag from the hotel to her, watching as she pulled out the contents. Inside were three pairs of jeans, each looking like they’d fit her perfectly. Black skinny jeans, navy skinny jeans, and a pair of lighter blue slightly wider legged ones.

“Danny…”

“You got on a fucking plane to see me because I asked. You left everything behind to do this. The very least I can do is get you some fucking clothes when you didn’t even stop to pack for me.”

“I was going to find somewhere to get something.” She looked at the labels, spotting the brand. “You’re not even sponsored by Pepe anymore. What the fuck, Dan?”

“I know people. I know your sizes, and I know exactly how your waist and ass feel, denim or not. It was easy for me to get them and you need them, right? Please, Emmy. Just accept a present for once?”

“Fine.” She leaned against him before reaching up to kiss him in thanks. It still didn’t feel quite real to her, that her best friend and the guy who she slept with regularly would just do this for her.

They made their way to the circuit in a car together, passes around necks and Dan and Michael in their full black and yellow ensembles. They reminded her of bees, and she made Blake giggle by whispering it to them as they walked behind the others.

“Please say that to Cyril later.”

“Sure.”

Dan and Michael had to disappear for meetings and race planning so Em sat across from Blake in hospitality, pulling out her iPad to get an hour or two of work in. A couple of clients had sent things while she was in the air and at the circuit, so she got to work transcribing what she could when the noise wasn’t too bad or editing the templates they’d sent.

“Nico, hey.” She lifted her head from the screen to see Dan’s teammate sit beside them, the blond man taking the seat next to her.

“Em, right? Dan’s…friend?” His tone was strange but she ignored it, closing her email to actually talk to him and be friendly.

“Yeah, we’re friends. We met through Blake actually. Sorry I didn’t say hi to you yesterday, it was busy. I’m sorry about Bahrain, it was tough on the team.”

“Thanks. You’re only here for qualifying and the race?”

“Yeah.” She smiled apologetically, gesturing to the tablet in front of her. “I had to work until my flight out, have to do some while I’m here too. But it’s worth it to see the race and cheer Dan and you on.”

“Oh,” The word seemed filled with more than two letters could hold. She knew why she was there, she knew Dan wanted her to be there. She could ignore his teammate and be polite when she needed to be. It was fine.

“Ems, formation lap and the race are starting soon. Want to head in the garage?” Blake stood and pushed his chair in.

“Perfect.” She smiled at Nico as she stood, Blake escorting her into the garage as they showed their passes. “What was that for?”

“No idea. Ignore him, that’s what I do.” She laughed and made her way to Dan’s drivers room as Michael was leaving.

“He’s got a minute.”

When she knocked and entered Dan had his headphones on, bouncing to a song, but as soon as he saw her they moved to around his neck.

“Having fun?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, I am.” Em grinned, pulling him into a hug. “Drive fast, be safe, and I’ll see you at the checkered flag.” She pushed a kiss to his cheek for good luck, Dan pulling her into a proper kiss for the briefest of moments.

“I haven’t seen it yet this season.”

“You called me your lucky charm, remember?” His fingers traced over the planchette tattoo on her inner arm, tapping twice at the yes symbol.

“I remember. Gonna make it there just for you.” He kissed her forehead and Em left the room, Dan a few paces behind her.

Watching the race was torturous. The garage was always so loud, the earplugs she wore under the headphones not helping much to dull the noise. She hated the way people’s attention was on her, the tv cameras finding her once or twice during parts of the race with less overtaking. Em hated how her name appeared on screen with “Daniel Ricciardo’s friend”. Netflix had called her that on Drive to Survive for the three seconds she’d been on it, so people had run with it. Now her instagram was public knowledge and people left comments on her posts about watching races she was at. It was so weird to have people invested in her, but it was becoming normal. Ish.

She held her breath for what felt like the entire final lap even though she knew she didn’t really need to. Dan had built up a gap to Checo and watching him come in with those sweet six points in his pocket was beautiful. The entire garage was cheering, Blake’s arm around her shoulders. Even Nico’s mechanics joined in, although their driver was understandably frustrated from his retirement. Em celebrated along, watching as Dan was swept up in delight.

It felt as sweet as Monaco, proof that two retirements didn’t matter because he’d done it. He’d gotten Renault on the constructors board and those points were his, from a car that arguably shouldn’t have held off the rest of the midfield for so long. Because that was her Dan and he was a talented driver. She watched everyone congratulate him, Dan searching her out to give her a hug.

“Best good luck charm ever.”

“I did try!”

Em kept an eye as he left the garage to go for interviews with a grin on his face. He’d led the midfield for the entire race and didn’t let anyone past him. He’d kept his cool and she got to see him be so happy. What else could she really want?

They spent that night at a restaurant trading bites of food, the four of them relaxed and enjoying it. The original plan had been for Michael and Blake to head back to England on Monday morning, and Dan to go to LA where Em would meet him. Now he was staying in China for a few extra days with her. Until when, she wasn’t sure, it depended on whatever madcap route she could get to go home. Her credit card was about to take a beating, even with the LA flight refund arriving in her bank account.

The next morning Em woke before Dan, pulling out her iPad and siting at the desk to try work out flights. He startled her by putting his hand on her shoulder, leaning over before sitting down in the other chair.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to work out what flight I’m booking to get home? There’s a bunch of random budget airlines I can try, but the idea of being lost in Kyrgyzstan or Uzbekistan is a little worrying.”

“Why Kyrgyzstan or Uzbekistan?” He butchered the pronunciation and she smiled, bringing up her travel app to show the route she’d built.

“I can get from Shanghai to X’ian, and then X’ian to Bishkek. After that it’s kind of a crapshoot to get home depending on if I go through Russia or not, but I think I can go from Bishkek to Istanbul and then do Ryanair flights from Istanbul to Milan, and Milan to London. It’s just over two days of travelling, but I can make it work and I’ll be home by Saturday.”

“But we’re going to Coachella this weekend?”

“I can’t, Danny.” The way he was looking at her killed her inside and made her want to cry but she had to keep it together. “I’ll pay you back for the ticket if you can’t sell it, but I can’t make it.”

“Why not? I’ll book your flight from here to LA now. We’ve got our tickets, you’re staying with me. Yeah you’re not using the flight out but you’ve got the flight home. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t afford it.” The words hurt to admit, Em letting her hair cover part of her face. “I booked a last minute flight to China, Danny. I had to make a choice so I cancelled my flights for LA. I’m just going home. Not all of us get paid the big bucks. It’s fine, I’ll see you when you get home.”

Money was always the thing that had been an unspoken potential disagreement with them. She’d argued with him time and time again about all the things he paid for when they were together, the presents he bought. The way he’d paid for their flights to Australia for Christmas and wouldn’t let her contribute. The constant arguments about him wanting to pay for her birth control. She hated admitting she couldn’t afford something. His eyes hardened for just a moment before pulling her over to him for a hug.

“Emmy. Never feel like you have to do this again. I’m so, so fucking glad you’re here. I’m so glad that that you came, but if it means you worry about money then don’t do it. And I’m paying for your flight to LA.”

“My outfits and everything are at home.”

“I’ll get you new ones.” He pressed a kiss to her to make her smile.

“The flights?”

“I’m booking you on my flight and you’re coming. And on my flight home.” Another kiss with another disagreement.”

“I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“I own a fucking house there and you’re using somewhere to stay as an excuse? Seriously?” She smiled and reached to kiss him, staring right into his eyes.

“Dan…”

“I want you to come.”

“Danny. I just…”

“Emmy. If you really, really don’t want to go then that’s fine. I’ll book you a flight straight back to London, a direct one, and you can head home. But if this is because of your pride or you think you don’t deserve it or you don’t want me to spend money on you then I have some bad news for you Baby Girl. You’re worth every single penny I spend on us. That’s why I get paid way too much money so I can spoil us like this.”

“I don’t want to be a burden. You pay for everything. I don’t. I’m not your friend because of money or your job or any of that. I never want that to be a factor between us.”

“It’s not one.” He stood, lifting her easily and moving them to the bed with her perched on his lap. “Em I get paid way too much. Plus there’s sponsor deals and everything else and I’m lucky enough that I don’t need to worry about money. You are so important to me. So I’m paying for this flight and I’m sending the money for your flight out here because it’s my fault you’re here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I don’t want you spending two days travelling when we can go together. Ok?”

“Ok.” He pushed kisses to her face, Em grinning as his hands slipped under her shirt. “Having fun there?”

“I have a beautiful woman on my lap, I’m only human. Plus, we didn’t exactly get to enjoy ourselves last night.” He caught her lips with his, her shirt pulled off and Dan immediately moving to cup her boobs. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Her lips immediately went along his jaw, Dan’s hands pushing their underwear down. He lifted Em up slightly to push her panties off, a rip heard through the room. “Please tell me you didn’t rip-“

“I’ll get you a new set. Promise.”

His fingers were immediately playing at her clit, rubbing soft circles as he teased her. Em gasped, desperate for him to push at least one finger in but he held off.

“Gonna be at Coachella with me, Emmy? Gonna spend a week with you and me and the sun? I can’t wait to be there with you and dance with you, get to see you in your sparkly brilliance. You never even realise how good you look, do you?” 

“Danny please. Don’t tease me.” All she wanted was to grind down on him, desperate for friction and movement. He set her body on fire so easily, Em holding onto his shoulders as she moved without realising.

“But it’s so fun. It’s more fun when I do this though.” Without warning he began fucking her with his fingers, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Dan had learned every single way to get her off in the last year and this was a sure fire way. Two fingers twisting and hitting the perfect spot inside her, his thumb or tongue on her clit depending on the position they were in. Her quiet moans got slightly louder, Dan’s kisses on her neck encouraging them. He loved hearing every sound she made, the ones she’d forced herself to be quiet about for too long.

“Right there Emmy. I’m not going to fuck you until I get to feel you cum at least once. Right there such a good girl for me, aren’t you? So pretty like this. Just let go, Baby. Let me feel you, let me hear you.”

Between the words and the sensations Em came with a low groan, her lips pressed to Dan’s shoulder as she shook with desperation. He fucked her through her orgasm, continuing to murmur in her ear as she came back.

“Thank you,” she murmured, Dan kissing her.

“You never need to thank me, Baby Girl. I’ve got you.” He pulled his fingers away and Em licked at them to clean them, watching his face light up before he pulled her for a filthy kiss. It was Dan and her and she’d never thought anyone would want to kiss her when she tasted of herself but he could never get enough of that. She moved slightly, feeling Dan line himself up and slide into her as she sat down to take him fully.

That was the sensation she loved. The slight stretch, the way he felt so perfect in her. The gasp he let out every single time. Usually like this they’d take an age to just be close, but instead she knew it wouldn’t be as slow as normal. His lips were against her shoulder, sucking a mark she knew would last. She should argue, but it was too good. Until she rolled her hips and they both began to move.

It was soft kisses and touches, Dan making sure she was well on her way to a second orgasm and taking pride in it. She was holding it back barely, determined to keep things lasting, when the worst thing that could happen did.

The door to the hotel room opened and she heard Michael begin to speak as he walked in.

“Mate do you not check your phone in the morning? I thought we were I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THIS!”

“Get out!” Dan yelled, pulling a sheet around them. His hands had been covering her boobs, playing with them at the exact right moment. Em pushed her face into his neck, hiding herself away.

“Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck?! USE THE DAMN DO NOT DISTURB YOU ASSHOLE!” The door slammed shut and Em stayed still, holding onto Dan. This was her worst case scenario. They’d been so careful to keep this hidden, to make sure the boys didn’t know that they were sleeping together. And in one moment they knew.

“You ok?” Dan whispered to her, his hands running up and down her back.

“Mortified? That was pretty much the thing I didn’t want to happen.”

“It’s gonna be fine. They won’t say anything, I promise. I won’t let them.”

She kissed Dan harshly, pulling his face to hers. Of course he was making sure she was ok. He always did that for Em. His hips thrust up and she laughed, moving back against him.

“Not even getting walked in on is stopping us, is it?” She giggled, Dan laughing back at her while pressing kisses to her cheeks. He turned them over, Em on her back as he made sure to get her back to that second orgasm before he came, the two of them holding each other before going to the bathroom to clean up.

When they came down for breakfast Michael was quiet and didn’t say a word. Things didn’t feel different between them, and it was hugs goodbye to him and Blake as they left for the airport to go back to London. She and Dan were spending two days in Shanghai before flying to LA on Wednesday, and they were going to take advantage of every minute.

They held hands while walking around the streets, Dan letting Em choose their plans. She brought them on a boat trip down the Huangpu river so they could see the city from the water, a selfie of her and Dan one of her favourite photos. They went to the Shanghai Museum so she could see the art from centuries before. Dan watched her watching it, smiling at her excitement. It was a whistle stop tour and she could have spent even more time there, but instead it was curling up in bed at night, sex alone without the worry of anyone walking in on them. Dan had to do some phone interviews but they were simple and she worked while he did. Their last day in Shanghai was a late one, their flight not until nine that night. But instead of worrying about how long it would take they relaxed and wandered the city again.

Em brought him up the Oriental Pearl so they could get photos of the entire city. People ignored them, just looking like any other Western tourists. It was different to being in Perth or parts of Europe where he was recognised immediately, even if people in Perth left him alone with a nod of recognition.

Instead it was to the airport, checking in with her clothes in Dan’s case. They settled in the lounge as Em people watched and they ate dinner, preparing to nap for a little while at the start of the twelve hour flight. 

“You know before I met you I’d never travelled anything except economy?” Em said, taking a sip of the Coke Zero in front of her.

“You deserve it. It’s a long flight, we don’t get into LA till like six. I’d rather we can be comfy before getting to the house and relaxing.”

“Yeah, but still. Just weird. I feel like I’m being spoilt here.”

“And you deserve all of it.” 

Sitting into the plane and being greeted by name Em just smiled, watching as Dan sat in the pod beside her. How could she want anything else?

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#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo oneshot #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine

[and-stir-the-stars]

new level of Evan trauma unlocked:

Mike and Co didn't just torture Evan; they tortured a lot of younger kids, including other kids Evan’s age. This means that most kids associated Evan with his brother, and would refuse to engage with him/ actively be cruel to him either because they assumed he was a jerk too or because they would deflect their anger at Mike onto Evan

I'd give Mike trauma about this too, but honestly he probably never found out; it's not like Evan would have told him or anyone else. The only way I can think of for Mike to find out is he accidentally witnesses a kid flat out say they're being mean to Evan because Mike is his brother, or it's years down the road and Mike stumbles into one of these kids and they say smth like "yeah I'm sorry about what happened to your brother. People never really treated him well back in the day; we sorta deflected our anger at YOU and your friends treating us like crap onto him, if I'm being honest. Looking back he didn't deserve that, though."

#Mike: oh great. Another way i ruined his life. #evan afton #michael afton

[the-hinky-panda]

The Dog: Part IV

Author’s Note: So if you guys follow @bullet-prooflove​, you know that The Dog and The North Star take place in the same fic universe. The vet in this story does have a name (Meredith) but I will continue to write her as a reader by using you/your and have Mike refer to her by using nicknames only. All this to say I’m not sure how to label this now since she has a name but it won’t be used in this fic.

Another note, I do use physical descriptions in this chapter (freckles and red hair) but I do it for a bigger purpose. Yes, no descriptions are more inclusive, however I wanted to make a point that she is self-conscious of her looks because don't we all have something that we don't like about ourselves? Don't we all have something that we want to change? And how wonderful is it when we surround ourselves with the right people that love us and all our imperfections? So please forgive the physical descriptions in this chapter as they were only done to deliver an important message: love your freckles!

You stand in front of the mirror and inspect your face. Your fingers trail over the splashes of freckles across your round cheeks, your face framed by your red hair. You’re not beautiful. At least, not by social media standards. No one is going to stop you on the street and want to take your picture, make a model out of you. You’re not destined for Instagram fame. It makes you wonder what Mike sees in you, what prompted him to ask you out to dinner at a local brewery. Mike, with his roguish good looks and witty sense of humor; warm brown eyes and easy smile. And dear lord, those adorable dimples. 

You dig out a tube of concealer, specific for freckles and other skin blemishes. Your ex, Kevin, had found it for you. He hadn’t been a fan of your freckles and often urged you to cover them up as best you could. You always kept a tube of the makeup on hand in case he wanted you to join him at a pharmaceutical rep party or just go out for drinks with some of his friends. Holding that small tube in your hand, you wonder if you’re really ready to try out another relationship with someone new. All the masks that need to be worn and maintained, you just didn’t know if you had it in you. 

So, why try? 

If Mike is going to like you, it’s going to be for you. You drop the make up back into the drawer and continue with your normal, basic routine. Simple make-up, a loose twist to keep your hair back from your face, and small gold hoop earrings. Shasta watches you curiously, her head cocked to the side, not exactly sure what this new routine is. It’s pretty sad when the dog is wondering why you’re dressing up. You pat her head as you leave the bathroom. 

“You’re coming with me, don’t worry.” 

Shasta follows you into the bedroom where the second struggle of evening occurs: what to wear? Your wardrobe consists mostly of scrubs. It’s been about six years now since your divorce and you’ve never really gotten back onto the dating scene and your clothes show that. You’re able to find a green blouse to go with your jeans and flats. You grab a navy blue cardigan since you’ll be sitting outside at the brewhouse. You give yourself one last look in the mirror, releasing a long sigh to try to dispel some of the butterflies that have taken up residence in your stomach. 

You had forgotten this part of life. This nervous thrill that makes you feel nauseous but you can’t wait to see what the evening is going to bring. It’s a knife’s edge balancing act of being yourself but just the likable pieces. Honest, authentic but keeping the odd and messy parts of yourself still hidden from view. You pick up Shasta’s harness, try to get the dog to stand still and it takes three attempts to wrestle the harness on her body. It doesn’t help that her short tail is wagging so excitedly, you struggle snapping the enclosures. You stand up, grab your keys, and look at the dancing dog in front of you. 

“If Mike doesn’t like me, it’s your fault,” you joke. “Maybe Bono can teach you some manners, you wild red dog.” 

You get Shasta secured in the backseat of the Subaru and make the ten minute drive over to Mike’s place. Any nervousness that you may have felt while getting ready completely dissipates when you see him, sitting on his front porch, Bono sitting next to him. He’s dressed up his regular henley with a plaid button shirt and has his suede jacket thrown over his arm. You’re struck once again with what a handsome man he is with his confident gait, wavy dark hair, and warm brown eyes. Maybe you should have worn the concealer this evening and you silently chide yourself as he gets Bono situated in the backseat next to Shasta before sliding into the passenger seat of your car. 

“You look nice.” 

You turn your head to hide the nervous, pleased smile that erupts on your face. “Thanks. You look nice too. Have you ever been to the Bronx Alehouse before?” 

He shrugs halfheartedly. “Once or twice.” He glances behind him at Bono. “Guess I better get better acquainted with it.” 

“You know that Bono can go into any restaurant you want. You don’t have to go to dog friendly ones only.” 

“I certainly don’t want to leave Shasta out of the good times though.” 

“That’s very kind of you. Shasta appreciates it.”  You glance to the side and catch his smile that’s just large enough to cause that dimple to appear in his cheek. If it were even possible, you fall more in love with the man. You park a couple blocks away from the restaurant to give the dogs a chance to walk off some of their energy. Well, for Shasta to walk off her energy. Bono trots right at Mike’s side, the perfect gentleman. 

They seat you outside on the sidewalk patio where they provide water bowls next to the table for the dogs and your waitress slips both dogs a small treat when she takes your drink orders. You chat about what has transpired in the last week of your lives, what has happened since that beautiful day spent at Orchard Beach. Your update is short and sweet: working overtime at the clinic. Although the finding of a litter of fox pups did make for an interesting day a couple days ago. His update is more interesting. 

“My sister from Maryland came up for a few days.” 

You know from the texts and calls that have been going back and forth between you two that he has three sisters along the East Coast. “She’s the teacher, right?” 

“Right,” he picks up his beer and takes a sip. “So she cleaned the house, stocked my pantry, and fussed over me for three days before heading back to Baltimore. Then I paid a visit to the training center where Bono came from, learned a bit more about what goes into training a service dog and what they’re capable of doing. There were some dogs there that were being trained to sniff out cancer in people.” 

“I’ve heard of that but haven’t seen any dogs in action yet. Dogs are incredible animals, extremely adaptable to a variety of situations and environments. They’re loyal, loving, dedicated. It makes me wonder what we humans did to deserve them.” 

He laughs but there’s very little humor behind it. “Certainly nothing that we’re currently doing. The world’s a mess.” 

You get it. You understand his bleak world view at the moment. Colin had it too after his accident. But Mike’s nihilistic vision comes from years of seeing the worst of humanity while on the police force. The last five years he’s spent chasing down Oscar Papa certainly hasn’t shown him the best of humanity either. “Maybe that’s why we have them. As reminders that we can be good enough people to deserve the love of our dogs.” 

“How do you do that?” The bitter edge of his perception dissipates and there’s genuine curiosity behind his words. “How do you stay so positive after all the horrible shit you see too? The animal abuse? Abandonment?” 

You shrug. “I guess I take peace in the thought that I’m not one of those people. I care for the animals, treat them, heal them, rehome them. I can’t stop people from being jerks and assholes, but I certainly can help fix what they’ve broken. You can’t make the world a better place without someone out there trashing it.” 

The warmth comes back to his smile and his eyes. “That’s a commendable attitude then.” 

“Thank you,” you raise your beer glass in his direction before taking a sip. He starts to say something else when your name is shouted across the patio and your blood runs cold. You can’t believe he would be here, in the Bronx, at this restaurant, at this exact time. But you hear your name again and when you turn, your eyes are immediately drawn to the extremely well-dressed blonde man who is waving at you. 

“Who’s that?” Mike asks, a sense of wariness creeping into his tone. 

“My ex-husband, Kevin.”  You hope against all hope that he and his bubbly little girlfriend go back inside the restaurant but that is not your luck. The two of them, arms draped over each other in their high-end clubbing gear, make their unsteady way over to your table. 

“Hey, babe.” 

You twist the corner of the napkin in your lap. “Not your babe, Kevin.” 

His blue eyes land on Mike. “Yeah,  I can see that. Kevin Bradford.” , the ex. This is Wendy.” 

“Mindi,” she corrects with a high-pitched giggle.

Mike reluctantly shakes his hand. “Captain Duarte.” 

Mindi emits a small squeal of surprise. “You’re that police guy who got hacked up by-“ 

“Yes, I am,” Mike cuts her off. 

Kevin grabs two chairs from another table and pulls them up to your table. “That’s fucking rad, man.” 

“Kevin!” You feel the tips of your ears heat up with a flash of anger. 

“What?” He shrugs. “How many dudes can say they went a few rounds with machetes and lived to tell about it? Like, that is fucking badass, legendary.”  Kevin lightly smacks Mike’s arm. “Bet it gets you a lot of action from the ladies, am I right?” 

Mike gives Kevin a sharp smile. “Not quite.” 

“Oh,” Kevin shrugs.  “Guess you haven’t gotten your strength back yet. In that case,” he points to you, “she’s a good one to break you back into the game. Doesn’t ask for much but puts out-“ 

Abject humiliation overtakes you to the point that you’re practically strangling the napkin that is still in your lap. Mike’s eyes flash and he starts to say something when Mindi interrupts  him. 

“Awww,” she coos and reaches towards Bono. “What a cute doggie!” 

“Please don’t touch my dog.” Despite the directness of the command, Mike does soften his tone with the young woman and she immediately withdraws her hand. 

“Sorry. Is he a service dog or something?” 

“He is,” Mike answers.  “I forgot his vest tonight. It’s okay.” 

You’re once again impressed with how easily Mike can read a situation, measure people up, and respond to them. He’s like a social swiss army knife. You do take pity on the poor girl and scoot your chair out slightly. “You can pet my dog if you want. Her name is Shasta.” 

The woman’s face lights up as she gives Shasta a vigorous rub on her back. “What a good girl, Shasty. I’m Mindi.” 

“Hey, hey,” Kevin leans over  and bumps her shoulder with his. “Save some of that hand energy for later, babe.” 

You roll your eyes and look over apologetically at Mike. He responds with a “what the hell were you thinking” look but where there should have been judgment in his eyes, there was a soft mirth. Some of your humiliation fades. The sun has set enough that the lights on the patio turn on and brighten the outside area significantly. Kevin looks over at you and motions to your face. 

“You run out that concealer? I can get you more if you want.” He motions towards Mike and lowers his voice. “You know, since you’re trying to impress someone new. Trust me babe, no one likes looking at…that.” 

“Oh, is that the stuff you got me?” Mindi pipes up and turns back to you. “It’s fabulous and will totally cover all those freckles and spots. It’s a miracle in a bottle.”  

Freckles and spots. You want to disappear again. You and your freckles and your red hair and your odd sense of humor and…

“She’s not trying to impress me,” Mike’s sharp tone draws all three sets of eyes to him. “I’m already impressed.” He picks up his beer. “Besides, I love her freckles.” 

Kevin bursts out laughing. “What is this, your first date? Shit, man. You don’t have to try that hard with her. You already got a cool dog. If she hasn’t slept with you yet, trust me, she will soon.” 

“Kev, be nice,” Mindi says but it’s quiet and half-hearted. 

He drapes an arm around her shoulders. “Honey, you do realize this is my ex-wife. The one who dumped all my things in the front yard, in the rain, for no reason.” 

“No reason?!” You’re halfway out of the chair when you realize your anger has moved you to your feet. People’s heads have turned in your direction and you slowly sit back down at the table. You remember that horrible night in vivid detail. You and Sam dragging Kevin’s Armani suits, fifty pairs of shoes,  and exercise equipment out of the house. You still don’t know how the two of you managed to move a full size treadmill but rage at his behavior that night certainly was a solid motivator. “You showed up drunk to Colin’s funeral.” 

“Who wants to go to funerals?” Kevin counters. “So I knocked a couple back at the bar down the street. Me and half the people there that night had been drinking before showing up.”  

“Yeah but you were the only one that leaned his fucking elbow on my brother’s casket.” The disbelief and fury you had felt when you had seen that, his lean frame casually leaning on the highly polished wood of Colin’s casket roars to the surface again. You want to punch him in his smug face but instead you ball up the napkin that you’ve been twisting in your lap and throw it at his head. 

Mike stands up from the table and tosses a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Okay, we’re done. Enjoy the table, Kevin. Mindi, my advice would be get the hell out now.” 

“Dude,” Kevin throws his arms out. “What happened to bro code? Bros before hoes.” 

Mike grimaces. “Exhibit A, Mindi.” 

You’re humiliated and angry. You had been looking forward to this evening, excited for this new start with a charming, kind, and good man. And you’ve ruined it because Kevin decided to darken the door of this restaurant and bring out the worst of you. Mike has his phone in his hand, most likely getting ready to call an Uber and retreat from this clusterfuck. You don’t blame him at all. You’re so lost in your thoughts, berating yourself for your outburst, that it must take Mike a couple times of saying your name until you hear him. 

“What?” 

He smiles at you, warmly, and extends his hand that isn’t holding Bono’s leash. “Come on. I know a better place.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and take his hand before he changes his mind. His hand is warm, broad and it helps ground you in the storm of your fury. It takes a couple tugs for Shasta to follow you, as she doesn’t want to leave her new, loud and giggly, friend but eventually you, Mike, and dogs soon find yourselves back on the sidewalk. 

“I’m so sorry, Mike. I had no idea-“  

“Don’t worry about it. I have an ex-wife, I get it. They call it baggage for a reason.” 

You sigh and drop your shoulders, the tension finally releasing as you start moving down that sidewalk back towards your car. “Thank you, for understanding.” 

You walk a block and stop to wait for the light to change when he squeezes your hand. You realize you never let him go from the restaurant. You give him a small smile and he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “I like your freckles. Don’t ever cover them.” 

Oh yeah, you were completely and utterly head over heels for this man.  

#mike duarte x you #mike duarte x reader #mike durate #captain mike durate #law and order svu #mike duarte x ofc #maurice compte

[blametheeditor]

To See And To Hear | Chapter 4

First | Previous

NOT FOR EVERYONE

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of murder and death. The concept of someone who was killed living their after-life on Earth. Dark thoughts/themes.

Run Down: Fazbear Corporation has a dark past full of death and murder. On one hand, it'd be safe to assume at least one unrestful spirit would haunt their last resting place. On the other, if they knew the plans William Afton had in store, any reason to stay should immediately be replaced with moving on as soon as possible.

It's still Friday!

_____________

Jeremy can’t help but pace in the attempt to calm his nerves as he waits. 

Mike, on the other hand, isn’t nervous in the slightest. Had even put his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair, hat over his eyes in order to take a nap. Though this time he’s keeping all four wheels flat on the ground. 

And to be honest, seeing Mike so relaxed he’s able to sleep makes Jeremy feel a lot better about the fact he’s going to be meeting another ghost. Because if someone who’s still alive isn’t concerned despite Scott having warned them it most likely won’t be a calm meeting, then there really shouldn’t be anything to worry about, right?

It would be right, if Jeremy didn’t know that Mike is the most fearless person he has ever met. Doesn’t flinch when animatronics who have discussed how they’ll kill him are standing only a few feet away. Antagonizes them at every opportunity by cussing them out proudly, though they’re starting to realize it’s done out of fondness. But his point still stands! 

So Jeremy continues to pace. Thinking about everything that can go wrong. Feels himself begin to tremble as he remembers what Scott said about people who die violently, that they tend to hold resentment toward the living even if they don’t deserve it. And if Scott had almost hurt Mike even though he cares about the night guard and that’s the reason why it almost happened then-! 

“Jerber,” Mike grumbles, earning a fearful squeak. “I can’t fucking sleep with your pacing, asshole.” 

Jeremy immediately stops before wringing his hands in guilt. “S-S-Sorry.” 

Mike moves his hat back to its proper place on his head, raising an eyebrow as he looks the ghost up and down. “What’s fucking with you?” 

“I’m w-w-worried,” Jeremy murmurs. “I-Isn’t it bad Scott w-warned us?” 

Mike looks up at the ceiling for a moment before shrugging. “Phone Guy and Purple Guy haven’t fucked with a lot of ghosts. But if the bastard is happy to follow Douche Bag here, sounds friendly to me. They just want to be goddamn careful. And I don’t listen to shit.” 

At least it’s admitted genuine concerns aren’t always heeded by the man. But that does make Jeremy feel better. He’s never met David, but he’s heard plenty of stories. So, maybe it will be okay. Scott wouldn’t take a chance when it comes to Mike’s life. He hasn’t met Vincent yet, but he’s pretty sure the same thing can be said. 

The ghost imitates taking a deep breath. Glances down the hallway in the hopes Scott appears soon. “When do y-y-you think-?” 

Jeremy jumps at the sound of keys unlocking the door. Becomes frozen when he realizes that’s not the sound he wants to hear. Because keys means a living person is entering the restaurant. Meaning the unknown ghost is here before Scott is. 

He’s going to be meeting them alone. 

Sugar honey iced tea. 

“Why are the lights on?” a voice growls, sounding almost menacing as it echos down the hallway. And then a towering figure appears at the very end, looking intimidating at such a far distance. With a fierce glare that has Jeremy thankful that, for once, he’s invisible. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Hey, Douche Bag,” why did Mike decide on that nickname! 

“Fucked Up Night Guard,” and never mind, now he understands... 

Jeremy holds his breath despite knowing he doesn’t need to breathe in the first place. But it’s truly terrifying watching the suited man make his way closer. Looking a lot like his disappointed father coming to lecture his disgrace of a son. He expects yelling. Possibly the demand Mike explains himself before interrupting and sending him out of the restaurant. 

Instead David shoves Mike’s legs, forcing him to sit in the chair properly. “I know you weren’t raised properly, but even Eggs knows not to put your feet up on the desk.” 

“I wasn’t goddamn hurting it.” 

“It’s the principle of the matter, show some respect. And why are you here so early, it’s only half past 8.” 

“Wanted to fuck some shit up.” 

Jeremy waits, tense because he knows there’s going to be shouting. But the longer the two talk to each other without any raised voices, the more he relaxes. Up until the moment he spots a much smaller, much friendlier looking figure standing just outside of the hallway. Who’s distinctly transparent. 

Any fear he might’ve felt considering this was the ghost Scott had been concerned about, and Jeremy feels nothing but pity. This ghost, he doesn’t look older than sixteen. He died a violent death with no one around to help him? 

The ghost suddenly looks over at him with wide eyes. Takes a moment to glance over at David before giving a small hopeful wave toward Jeremy. One that’s immediately returned. 

“Not that I love our conversations,” makes both of them jump at the hostility dripping from David’s voice. “But I came here at this time to avoid you.” 

If Jeremy had to talk to the tall man, he would’ve agreed and left, no matter how much time would be wasted going home just to come back later to work his shift. But Mike only shrugs, unbothered by the fact his presence isn’t wanted. “Sorry, Douche Bag, guess you’re shit out of luck. But I can fuck off to another room, or I can help with shit you need. Your fucking choice.” 

There’s a long moment of silence before a finger is pointed down the hallway. “Show me where the keys to the basement is. Your dumbass of a manager keeps avoiding my calls like a coward.” 

“Not my shitty ass manager,” Mike says as he obediently stands up to lead David to the keys. 

“They are whenever you’re working a shift in this dump.” 

Jeremy almost follows after his friend out of habit, only holding himself back this time with a reminder he technically has a guest. And considering Scott isn’t here then the responsibility relies solely on him. Someone who has never been good at human interaction. Or, ghost interaction in this case. 

Meaning he watches Mike leave with a look of panic. 

“I’m Fritz,” earns a squeak of surprise. But instead of being watched with bewilderment or even annoyance, Jeremy’s only sees a smile. “Were you the friend Vincent told me about?” 

“N-N-No,” Jeremy responds. Waves his hands at the way it sounded like Fritz somehow came to the wrong place. As if he was supposed to meet different ghosts. “I-I mean I’m not Vincent’s f-f-friend, but I know h-his friend! He’s late, though, s-so f-for now it’s...just me.” 

That was the worst way to greet someone newly dead! He’s terrible at this, he’s going to make Fritz regret ever wanting to meet another ghost! He’ll think no one cares and this was all a big mistake agreeing to meet them and he’ll never want to talk to any of them including Mike or Vincent and it’ll all be Jeremy’s fault! 

“Late?” Fritz asks, his smile growing wider instead of it disappearing. “Does he work too?” 

“I don’t th-th-think so. He told me h-he follows Vincent everywhere, b-b-but h-he's never given details.” Jeremy wrings his hands. Freezes as the question fully processes. “T-T-Too? Do you work?” 

Fritz blushes. “I, uh, answer the phones after hours for Mr. Harrison.” 

“Like r-recordings?” he asks, a little confused. It’s a much more professional title for what him and Scott do. 

“No, actual calls with customers,” the teenager clarifies with a nervous chuckle. “You’d be surprise how many parents are willing to call at midnight just to be able to book for a party. Or people who just don’t realize how late it is and wanting more information on how the animatronics work.” 

Jeremy stares for a moment. Slowly thinks over what all of it meant until it registers that a fellow ghost not only has an actual job, but he talks to those who are living. 

“They h-h-hear you?” Jeremy breathes. Amazed by the thought someone other than Mike would be able to actually hear him with just a phone. 

“Sometimes I wish they didn’t,” Fritz grins. “There’s been a few times I sighed a little too loudly while talking to Mr. Harrison. I’m just glad I don’t really need my paycheck because at this point he’s lowered it to a dollar an hour.” 

Jeremy’s mouth almost drops open at someone docking a paycheck for sighing. “Your boss s-s-sounds...” 

“Controlling? Egotistical? Definitely will never figure out on his own a ghost is working for him?” the younger guesses. And even though it’s been numerous times this is someone who had a violent death, there’s no trace of malice, of anger. There’s no hint of frustration even though Jeremy certainly would be working for someone like that with seemingly no way out. Even if he couldn’t use the money, it’d still upset him! 

But Fritz seems to have more control over his emotions than Scott does. Or maybe that’s just his personality. Whatever it is, Jeremy likes him. Feels guilty for ever thinking Fritz is someone to be scared of, or worried that he’d lash out at someone. 

“...i-interesting.” 

Fritz laughs at the very kind way of describing it. “So do you work?” 

“K-K-Kind of? I help M-Mike keep the T-T-Toys out of the office,” Jeremy murmurs. Compared to what Fritz does, how can he claim he works? He can’t even get in trouble, and if he doesn’t wind the toy box in time then Mike would get killed. But if he doesn’t do it, no one will, because apparently Mari doesn’t deserve to have his music played. Even if it’s the only way to ensure Mike isn’t killed. 

There may come a day when Jeremy gets as upset as Scott did due to Mike’s disregard for death... 

Fritz gives him a confused look. “Why do you need to keep them out? Do they like to mess with the paperwork?" 

Jeremy suddenly feels like he is completely unequipped to explain that the animatronics, most likely including Fritz’s, aren’t as friendly as believed. It definitely took him a while to come to terms with the Toys not only being murderer’s, but enjoy it. It’s not something you just say, though. 

“D-D-Did you work at Freddy’s b-before?” 

“For about a month,” Fritz says, his voice getting quite, eyes watching the ground as if it’ll disappear. And maybe it even might because it seems like the younger is fading. “I was a waiter before my...accident.” 

Oh. So that means... 

Jeremy reaches his hand out before he can think about it being a bad idea. He doesn’t touch Fritz, not wanting to make the younger uncomfortable, but his hand is almost immediately grabbed. Gently squeezed in what he could safely assume is meant to be a thank you. There’s no sudden hug like he did to Scott, but at least Fritz doesn’t get any dimmer. 

“I-I-I never worked for Freddy’s b-before I died,” Jeremy offers, hoping it sounds supportive. Because he knows what it feels like, haunting an unfamiliar place he never thought would be his grave. One that was meant to be a happy memory instead of becoming a fatal visit. “It’s k-kind of cool learning s-secrets I-I-I never would’ve otherwise.” 

Fritz laughs loudly, most likely not expecting such a morbid sentiment. Which Jeremy hadn’t meant it to be! “That’s true.” 

“Hopefully anything you do learn doesn’t scare you away,” has both of them jumping, having missed Scott’s entrance. Despite the scare Jeremy’s just glad he’s finally here, more than happy to let the sandy haired man take over and make sure Fritz wants to come back after this. “Sorry for being late. I’m Scott, the friend Vincent told you about.” 

Fritz lets go of Jeremy’s hand in order to shake Scott’s. “It’s really nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Scott smiles. “I hope Jeremy has been good to you.” 

Jeremy sputters, admittedly offended by the thought Scott was concerned he wouldn’t be good to Fritz. “M-M-Me? You should’ve been w-worried about Mike!” 

“I’m worried about him for other reasons,” the older ghost admits. 

“Jeremy’s been amazing,” Fritz reassures. Something that admittedly makes Jeremy feel a little better with the confirmation. “I’m, I was surprised another ghost would want to meet me. Usually they’re a bit possessive.” 

Before he can ask what that’s supposed to mean, Scott’s nodding his head like he understands. “Vincent’s been my best friend even before I died, but I’m more just on the cautious side because I know how dangerous we can get. He hasn’t met Jeremy yet, but that’s more so on preference rather than me not wanting him to.” 

Preference? Does that mean Vincent doesn’t want to meet him? What did Jeremy do someone doesn’t want to meet him! 

“Bad memories?” Fritz guesses, his expression kind and voice soft. 

“For different reasons.” Oh. Oh. He never thought, he never asked how or where Scott- oh no. “But you never have to worry about Jeremy and I.” 

The mentioned ghost jolts when he realizes he hadn’t really been part of the conversation, quick to nod in agreement. “N-N-Never!” 

Fritz beams at the confirmation they want to be friends. Jeremy’s almost scared to ask what kind of ghosts the teenagers met before, but they can talk about it later. And possibly loop back around to what was meant by being possessive. But later! 

“How have you been, Fritz?” 

The teenager suddenly goes pale, looking almost afraid. “I-I’ve been okay.” 

This isn’t how Jeremy expected it to go. He had been emotional finally meeting someone who understood his situation, but it was definitely mostly relief rather than fear. 

“You have a lot of energy, don’t you?” Scott asks. 

Now Jeremy has another thing to be confused about. But Fritz understands as he nods somberly. “I’ve accidentally broken about two phones now.” 

“Only two phones? You haven’t made any lightbulbs explode?” 

“H-Have you?” Jeremy demands, not liking how proud Scott sounds. And what kind of broken, did the phones also explode! 

“More than I can count,” Scott smiles even though he shouldn’t be. “It used to be impossible for me to walk into a room without making at least one explode.” 

Fritz is now grinning. “I haven’t had anything like that, just flickering and making the room cold.” 

“Well color me impressed.” 

“Are we s-s-supposed t-to be able to do that?” Jeremy questions. Not knowing if he wants the answer. 

“It, uh, depends on how you died,” Fritz explains. “Tragic deaths tend to give ghosts a lot of energy and they appear pretty quickly. Quiet deaths give ghosts little to no energy, and it takes them a little longer to appear. Both gain more as time passes, one just starts with a little more.” 

Jeremy looks up at Scott for confirmation, only to find the older watching Fritz with suspicion. “How many ghosts have you met before us?” 

“Oh! Uh, quite a few. But I’ve only met you two after I died.” 

He can’t help but feel disappointed Scott and him weren’t the first Fritz met. At least that means all of his questions can get answered if Scott can’t. 

...wait. 

“You,” Scott begins as Jeremy can only stare at Fritz. They’re both speechless for a minute as the teenager starts to look more and more nervous. “You could see ghosts before this?” 

“Y-Yeah, I-” 

Fritz yelps as Scott grabs his arm before pulling him out of the office. Leaving Jeremy behind, uncertain what just happened. Hesitates before darting after the two, both from the want to not be left out and a little worried what the older ghost was planning. 

He thought they would go into a more private room. Maybe to Mike in order to test something. Instead, Scott walks through the front doors. 

Jeremy stops just before he leaves the restaurant. Stares into the darkness, unsure where Scott and Fritz are without bright lights illuminating the parking lot. For once in over a year he actually contemplates going outside. 

It fills him with terror, thinking about leaving the one place he’s familiar with, even if he only goes out a few feet. Because Fazbear Pizzeria has been the only thing he’s ever known since his death. It’s where the Toys are, the ones who have been there for him ever since the beginning of him haunting the restaurant. It has the sound of Mike’s voice echoing through the dinning room, the only living person he’s interacted with after being nothing but invisible to hundreds of other people. 

What if he gets lost? What if something happens to him? What if he just disappears? 

“Hey, Jerber.” 

Jeremy nearly screams at the sound of Mike’s voice, turning away from the daunting outside to see a familiar smirked aimed toward him. 

“You sc-sc-scared me!” 

“Sorry, Douche Bag got sick of my ass, so I came to fuck with you.” Mike looks outside then back at Jeremy’s glare. “Want to go outside?” 

The ghost wrings his hands before slowly nodding. “W-W-Will...will I d-disappear?” 

“Phone Guy’s ass doesn’t,” the man muses. “Irish Jig walked all the goddamn way here. Why can’t Jerber’s?” 

That...is a valid question. But what if he can’t? Fritz said Jeremy doesn’t have the energy to make the room cold because he had a quiet death. He doesn’t know how Scott died, but he’s made lightbulbs explode. So what if he doesn’t have enough energy to survive like the other two do? 

Jeremy suddenly offers his hand, staring up at Mike with a pleading expression. The man doesn’t say anything as he takes the ghost’s hand. 

It’s warm. Instead of feeling a freezing chill when someone walks through him, Jeremy’s hand feels warm. Like it’s actually being held. And then he’s being tugged forward as Mike opens the door and walks outside. 

Mike isn’t left alone in the night as Jeremy fades away. The ghost stays right by his side, not even growing dimmer as they make their way toward what sounds like an argument. 

“It’s not my fault I apparently repel ghosts!” 

“Who else’s would it be!” 

It takes a moment for Jeremy to realize the voice Scott is yelling at isn’t familiar. And at first, he doesn’t see the unknown person. But he does sense something. Like a bad feeling. One that makes him want to run in the opposite direction. 

He doesn’t resist Mike’s gentle pull as he guides them closer. “Hey, assholes, you forgot the fucking Jerber.” 

Fritz gasps when he spots them. Scott turns to them with a look of remorse. And then a living shadow gives them a smile. 

That. That is what’s giving him the bad feeling screaming danger. 

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. I didn’t even think about it,” Scott murmurs. 

“Jeremy, it’s nice to properly meet you,” the shadow greets. “Scotty’s told me so much, I was disappointed when you weren’t part of the welcoming party.” 

Now that they’re closer, the shadow becomes a tall figure. With long hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing a Fazbear uniform. Who’s a deep purple from head to toe. 

Scott gestures to the man, as if he doesn’t feel the paralyzing sense of terror radiating from him. “Jeremy, this is Vincent. Fritz, this is Mike. Mike, Fritz.” 

Fritz stares for a moment. Gives a small wave. “H-Hi.” 

“Your boss is a dick, Irish Jig.” 

That earns Mike a smile. But Jeremy can’t seem to move. 

“So about this repellent,” Vincent begins as he looks Jeremy up and down with interest. “How does it work, exactly?” 

“I-It’s a sense.” Fritz only looks concerned. Opens his mouth to say something before deciding against it. “You feel like danger, so spirits will automatically avoid you. Some can ignore it. Others, n-not so much.” 

“Fucking with shit, Purple Guy?” 

“Seems like it,” Vincent hums. “Tell me everything you know.” 

Jeremy has a feeling it’s going to be a long night. 

#I'm excited to start getting further into the worldbuilding #we've got so much lined up #and while I know it's super niche #I hope ya'll are enjoying it #have a great weekend! #FNAF bois #BTE writing #Ghost Jeremy AU #To See And To Hear #cw #content warning

[emblazons]

Crying in the goddamn club over all the Romeo facts I’ve pointed out recently (down to Romeo not even being in love with Juliet at first, but Rosaline….who parallels Will) only to be reminded that on top of the “it’s very Shakespearean” star-crossed-lovers talk of S3, they literally call Mike “Romeo” flat out in the canon S4, eye—

Like I cannot go one single day on this earth without being reminded that these two are bones. Down to the fact that even their “tender, emotional music” played here has a fully familial Hopper parallel…on top of being sandwiched between “hokey musak” in the subtitles 😭

Honestly all I’m getting from the juxtaposition of these things (and Mike being “Romeo”) is that Mike cannot be serious/honest about his feelings for El (seen in him joking, hiding behind glasses, talking about being “cool” before even attempting to be honest—showing he’s uncomfortable, because he just says things flat out with Will) & even though she cares for him, El knows it?

Just like the second Romeo and Juliet tried to act “adult” about their childish love (at all of 13-14, just like Mlvn, imagine that) they died—

—which reflects how the second Mike tried to get “serious” about El with that monologue, all it does is end Mlvn’s romance (and Max…and the world, lmao 😭) I am not ready to do this monologue again while rewatching the show lmaoooo

Quadruple bonus for how “hokey muzak” plays when Will is acting dejected about mlvn despite it being actively associated with them not being serious. Almost as though he’s the genuine one to their playtime, which 😤 let him win!

#like pls this boy is trying to act so serious about a relationship he does not feel seriously about and it destroys the world ☠️😂 #FORCED CONFORMITY IS KILLING THE KIDS AND ALL DAT #byler #< target audience #anti mlvn #mike wheeler #el hopper #will byers #my s4 rewatch #my st commentary #stranger things

[kafkaesquebird]

*Long post ahead*

Okay, I’m going to go out on a limb here and just say that Byler will happen--if not in volume 2, then most definitely in season 5. I’ve been lurking in this tag for some time, specifically ever since volume one dropped, and I have seen the endless essays of pessimism and doubt that’s been bogging people down. While I share your guys’ doubts to an extent, I can’t fully bring myself to accept that Byler won’t come to fruition this season or the next. I hope my little tangent will provide you with at least some reassurance, because to be honest I’m searching for as much as I can before our hopes are either fulfilled or brutally crushed in t-minus 23 days. I’d like to preface this with saying that character/ship analysis posts are not my area of expertise, but I’ll give it the good old college try. 

Alright-y. So. Season 4. There’s a lot to cover character-wise, but let’s just go right ahead and jump into the meat and potatoes of it, starting off with the dichotomy that is Mike Wheeler. According to Finn, Mike is trying to figure himself out this season, and, as we the audience know, he’s very kind of oblivious when it comes to his and other people’s feelings, and Finn also said Mike was a bit clueless. Up until this point, it seems that Mike’s character arc (vis-à-vis his relationship to El) has been flat and banal. They’re in a precarious place in their relationship right now; a fragile place. Having Mike and El repeat the same break-up-and-make-up storyline from last season is bland, and I don’t exactly see the Duffer brothers going in that direction again because it’s cheap and quite frankly a let down. This is where Byler comes into the mix. Despite the potential backlash it might face--having two main characters in a gay relationship in such a massive franchise--I do believe that it is in no way contrived, regardless of what some vociferous shippers might claim. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The foundation for Byler has been laid since the very beginning, and if you rewatch the previous seasons you can see the evidence if you make a conscious effort to. Especially on Will’s side. And if you take into consideration the sudden wave of Byler content being churned out by Netflix social media accounts and the actors themselves (looking at you, Noah Schnapp), it becomes increasingly apparent that they are trying to warm the general audience up to the idea of Byler. Hell, I’m convinced Noah and Finn have had barely any press together because they’d be giggling and twirling their hair if the ship was so much as mentioned. Either this is some elaborate queer-baiting scheme (during pride month, too), or we’re genuinely getting Byler. But I digress. What I find particularly interesting, and what really has me convinced of the ship happening, is the amount of heart-to-hearts Byler share this season. The bedroom talk, the talk on top of the car, (and the leaked talk in Hopper’s cabin). Those talks feel emotional. Special. It feels like the dynamic of their relationship is beginning to shift, and what that entails has yet to be clarified until volume two comes out (get it? ha). It feels like it’s all building up to something, like a big reveal. But we’ll see when we get there. For now, I’ll just let the open closets next to Mike Wheeler speak for themselves. 

Before going any further into my excessively long post, let’s touch more on Mil*ven. A wedge has been intentionally driven between Mike and El for the second time. It’s undeniable to shippers on both sides, although the explanations for why begin to differ from there. Mil*ven’s relationship has been somewhat tenuous this season, and arguably it was tenuous in season 3 as well. It’s a dying flame that both Mike and El are trying to rekindle, with El seemingly putting forth more effort into salvaging it than Mike. Calling into question the integrity of Mil*ven for a second time seems odd to me, unless it’s going somewhere we least expect it. Now I’ve seen speculations floating around about how Mike can’t say ‘I love you’ back because of his parents’ inability to properly show love to one another, and while I sort of buy into that I think that there’s a deeper, less-superficial spin to his reluctance to say those three words, let alone write them to his girlfriend. Throughout this season, Mike has felt suspiciously off-kilter. Odd. Sure, he’s lovey-dovey with El when they reunite at the airport, and a little bit during their time at the rollerskating rink--but then the fiasco with Angela goes down, and this is where it takes a sharp nose-dive south. Mike makes an insensitive comment during dinner about the ordeal, which hurts El who abruptly leaves the room. Later on they have their argument, and El brings up the elephant in the room: Mike’s refusal to say ‘I love you.’ Rather than say it back to her, he gives her empty answer after empty answer. Answers she doesn’t believe. He even calls her ridiculous for raising valid concerns she has, and he gets defensive. Comparing this scene and the scene with Will and Mike in the bedroom, you can see the difference in Mike’s body language and his delivery clear as day. But where did his refusal to say/write ‘I love you’ come from? This passive, aloof attitude toward their relationship? If I had to wager a guess, it’s Mike unknowingly facing identity issues. He’s conflicted, and he’s confused. His awkward exchange with Will at the airport--a far cry from their farewell hug just a few months prior. His insistence that Will and him are just friends. Friends. His curiosity and reaction to Will’s painting. Mike loves El, there is absolutely no doubt about it. Whether it is romantic or platonic is the million dollar question, and I’m leaning towards the latter. Let me say that platonic relationships are in no way beneath romantic relationships, and a lot of times they are even stronger and run viscerally deeper. For Mike and El, they started dating at a young age before they could really, truly discover themselves and what they want. They dove into it head-first; two kids head over heels for each other--the girl with superpowers and the boy who saved her. They were perfect for each other; they’ve been through hell and back together, and share a trauma bond. But as time goes on, Mike starts to slowly realize that his feelings for El have been misconstrued all along. Being Mike, he’s too damn dense to reflect on himself and continues acting as if everything is fine when in reality it’s far from it. This sounds an awful lot like someone who is struggling with newfound feelings and trying to push them down to maintain a semblance of normalcy in a life that’s been extremely hectic and traumatic.

Point of the matter is, there is a method to the Duffer brothers’ madness. Everything they do in this show is tastefully methodical and so well thought-out to the minutest detail. They planned this story since the very beginning. I seriously doubt they will pursue such a pivotal plot point only to later discard it, especially since it could benefit all three characters’ arcs in a unique way. I think they’re definitely building up to Will’s confessing to Mike, and I have a book of theories centered around that that I will keep to myself for brevity’s sake. In short: have a little more faith in this ship. You’re not delusional, and you’re not over-analyzing. You’re observing things that are supposed to be observed, and drawing conclusions that need to be drawn. I will gladly eat crow if I’m wrong, but something tells me I’m far from it.

#Byler #will byers #stranger things #mike wheeler #ship analysis #i originally wrote this at four am and then went to bed before posting #didn't touch on if it's requited or not but i think it will be

[admirablespoling]

Rambly predictions based on new info from today, assuming Byler is endgame:

EP 8:

Before they get El (because I believe it should be a private moment), Mike sees the painting and is genuinely happy/loves it…then realizes what it means and acts really strangely afterward. Will may not even need to actually say that he loves Mike, Mike will just get it based on the fact that the painting is significant to their relationship (and because of El’s letter). He won’t flat out reject Will, but Will will be confused by Mike’s reaction and retreat a bit.

Suddenly, Mike will start silently staring at Will a lot more (and they will make sure camera LINGERS on Mike staring like it did Will in v1). Will won’t notice. Hell, I hope they throw in some cheesy shit, like Will falling asleep on Mike’s shoulder in the van and Mike being visibly unsure of what to do with himself. Give me Mike realizing that whatever emotions he’s been pushing down can’t stay down. Give me Mike realizing this is a real possibility and he’s holding the ball.

They find El, Will demotes himself to third wheel status and Mike is visibly conflicted. VISIBLY CONFLICTED MIKE, PLEASE. If Byler is end game, we need to see that time for Mike. Subtext and nearby closets are no longer sufficient.

When they get to the pizza place, Will tells Jon about his feelings for Mike and his reaction to the painting, and they cry/hug. Jon being a good big brother is just like “I know, it’s gonna be ok.” During this time, Mike speaks with El and is honest with her, at least to the extent of saying he is not in love with her. More Mike staring at Will. Make the audience really understand, please.

EP 9:

Maybe Mike gets Vecna’d at some point? Still unsure of that one. I feel like this is the perfect way to expose Mike to the audience after priming them with him quietly pining for Will.

The cabin scene is likely a parallel to the “super spy” scene. There will be a hand grab/hold and then they will look at each other for a lengthy moment. At this point they both realize the ✨implication✨ but do not verbalize it. Someone probably busts in and ruins the moment.

This episode is likely mostly action, so I assume that this is when Will is going to end up in grave danger. I believe that his true sight will come into play in the final battle and Vecna may target him, but very differently than the others.

We will get s2 Mike Wheeler back because we know that Mike sees himself as Will’s protector. His monologue makes his feelings clear to the audience and Will. At this point, everyone will know that this is requited and happening. I think we will get a proper hug between the two at some point in this ep as well.

I know this sounds like I’m setting the bar high, but that’s because I am. I refuse to believe they would thoughtfully and thoroughly set up Byler from s1 just to wait until the end of s5 to get them together. They give screen time to all the other established couples, and if we are right that this is THE couple…then show us, Duffs. Let’s see it.

#byler #byler better be canon #mike wheeler i know what you are #byler is real #byler s4 #that’s just a theory #a byler theory

[broadsidemagazine]

"Birth of a Broadside", written by Josh Dunson

Broadside's home is a small little room that's got chairs and a sofa with a tape recorder finishing off the bottom wall space. First people Sis Cunningham welcomed in after me was two-thirds of the New World Singers. Gil Turner took out his 12-stringer, borrowed a flat pick, Sis took out the mike for the tape recorder, and out came a talking blues Gil just wrote about the newspaper strike that had us all quietly laughing. We didn’t want to laugh louder than quietly because that might get on the tape.

Before the song’s over, in walks Bob Dylan and Suzy [Suze Rotolo], who sometimes illustrate's Bob's songs. The last verse that Gil was singing had how he was going to see his friend, Bob Dylan, who is a walking newspaper and will give him the lowdown on what's happening in the world. Bob thought it was a great song just from hearing the last verse.

Then, Gil took out his 6-string Gibson, handed it over to Bob Dylan saying how Bob’s new song “Masters Of War” was a powerful and a great one, one of the best Bob had ever written. I kept on thinking he had written a lot of good ones, some that had real lyric poetry like “Blowin’ In The Wind” and “Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall” (which makes you think right away of Lorca), and I waited for the images of rain, and thunder, and lightning to come out in great spectacles.

But no, this time there was a different kind of poetry, one of great anger, accusation, just saying what the masters of war are, straight forward and without compromising one inch in its short sharp direct intensity. I got a hunch this is the most difficult Dylan song for others to sing right, 'cause it can so easily be over sung, made a melodrama. But when Bob sings it, it rings honest and true. I hope a record is made of Bob singing this song and that a lot of people will listen to the quiet voice that Bob sings this song in because there is a dignity in the words that comes from when they have been thought about for a long, long time.

And right after that, not waiting for a chance to get two breaths, Bob came along with “Playboys & Playgirls Ain't Gonna Run My World," a group song that like Pete Seeger said later in the evening "is going to be sung by a million people in the next year.” Its tune catches whole crowds easy, and the words come right along from the feeling, Hell man, I was born here and I live here, but I’m not goin’ to let rats knock things down where I was born, where I live.

In the meantime, Phil Ochs, his sidekick, and the third third of the New World Singers, Happy Traum, came in. Boy, this room was so jammed packed with people that there was real foot and banjo and guitar shifting necessary to get Phil Ochs close enough to the mike to record his three new songs. Phil Ochs. What a guy! Quiet, soft spoken, but there with his guitar he spun some of the most real verses that's goin' to be written about the death of N.Y. Youth Board worker Louis C. Marsh and the miners striking in Hazard, Kentucky. There was an immediateness about those two songs Phil did. I got a strong feeling that his song on Hazard is going to be remembered past this strike, and be resung in many strikes to come.

Phil’s last song, a fine one of hope with a great group chorus had the last half of it heard by Pete Seeger who later that night was going to sing at the Hazard strikers rally at Community Church. After hearing the tape of the songs, smiling all the way through, Pete sang a number of new songs sent him recently.

We were all out of breath without breathing hard, that feeling you get when a lot of good things happen all at once. Pete expressed it, leaning back in his chair, saying slowly in dreamy tones: “You know, in the past five months I haven't heard as many good songs and as much good music as I heard here tonight.”

That’s what makes Broadside, all that good singing and all that good writing, plus a lot of hard work, labor pains. In the sheets of paper there are many smiles and many glances of anger, and even more the strong hope that these songs just won’t stay on the mimeograph pages, but will live and be sung.

(Broadside #20, February 1963)

#broadside magazine #broadside ballads #broadside #sing out #sing out! #folk music #folk #music #sis cunningham #new world singers #the new world singers #bob dylan #suze rotolo #phil ochs #pete seeger #gil turner

[dirtytransmasc]

you wanna know what's been pissing me off lately. the ending of stranger things, cause listen.

I want the end to break me, I want it to hurt me and make me feel empty so I never want to go back and watch it again. I don't want a happy ending, I want a bittersweet ending. I want everyone to come out scathed, some not coming back at all. I want everyone to only get part of a happy ending. I want closure, but I don't want it to be good closure, I want it to be scarred and ugly.

I want to see characters mourn, I want to see characters die, I want to see characters break. I want the consequences of 4 years of saving the world, only for it to fail, of an apocalypse, of layer and layers of scars and trials bonds to culminate into this absolute disaster; of teens barely able to function or move on cause they're stuck in this anxiety ridden mindset, adults who are numb from watching their kids die, young adults broken by loss. all of them wheels of their past selves.

but I know if the duffers choose to go this route, it's gonna fall flat. it's gonna be cheap and cliche and meaningless. they will find a way to take the dignity from every character, to support a story narrative they lost back in season two. Like here's some examples of what I'd like to see (if done right) and how they'll screw it up;

killing off Steve - it would be a moment to show his bond with robin, solidifying how he was the rock of the group keeping everyone together, and giving him a final heartfelt moment with Dustin and robin since they didn't give him one last season. - the duffers would probably make it about stancy, or they would just let Steve die and make it have little impact on the two that matter in, robin and Dustin would probably be kept away from it since they 'dont matter's to his narrative anymore.

killing off robin - it could serve as a great moment between her and Nancy, having robin sacrifice herself, telling Nancy she's pretty as she dies. or it could be a moment with her and Steve, the moment that breaks him, that makes him feel empty. - let's be honest the duffers would probably bait ronance and then kill robin off last second, it'd be very bury your gays type™ vibes.

killing off Will or El (personally I don't think they can both survive, and I think it's gonna be El. the story started without her, she inadvertently started this, so she has to end it by leaving. I don't like it but I think it makes sense) - it would be a parallel ending, the opposite of the beginning. it could pack some great depth to the story, leaving everyone heartbroken. it would driven by sacrifice, not for love (romantic) but for family. imagine it coming down to the two of them, oke having to sacrifice themselves for everyone. the two hugging one another, both planning to sacrifice themselves, sharing one heartfelt moment (aka forehead touch, holding each other's heads, will crying and El just smiling at him sadly. as it comes down to the wire one of them makes the sacrifice before the other. then it's over, all of it, and who ever survived is just shattered. - the duffers would make it about love, either El doing it for Mike so she could be his 'superhere' undoing any progress shes made, or Will and having it be unrequited byler.

killing off mike - will and El deciding one of them has to sacrifice themselves and Mike wanting to save the love of his life (will) and his best friend (El) decides to do it for them. he has his last moments with both of them (byler kiss? byler forehead touch at the very least + finally breaking it off with El, but in a positive freeing sort of way. closure) and he makes it seem like he's saying goodbye to them, like he's accepted hell lose one or both, but then he takes their place at the last second, a last act of love for the two of them. - the duffers would make it about El, and the only screen time Will would get in this scenario is yet another fo of unrequited byler.

end of the world - they lose, they lose and theres no fixing it. it's this numb huddle of kids, teens, young adults, and actual adults. they've accepted death, they're all so tired of fighting. Steve's holding robin and Dustin, Nancy's clinging to Jonathan and Robin, argyles holding Jonathan's hand. the original kids crew is huddled together. Lucas, Max (I'll come back to her), and El are saying their goodbye. Nathan is hugging his mom. Joyce and hopper are struggling to stay strong. Murray drunk himself half to death, because as crazy as he is, he's scared to die. it's just numb and cold. - the duffers would fuck this up in so many ways. it wouldn't be about family or goodbyes, I wouldn't be surprised if it doesn't turn into an end of the world fuck fest to be completely honest.

max waking up or dying - if max wakes up, it would be a fight, El would be at her bedside every days trying to find a way to save her, and she does, she does find a way, but it Ekans sacrificing herself. at that point she's already super close to Lucas, they're best friends (if I'm being self indulgent, they're unofficially in a polycule dynamic) and she tells him she can save max, at the cost of her own life. and Lucas knows El would be happier giving her own life for max, that she's so selfless she would rather die and let max live then to keep sitting there watching her. but at the same time he doesn't want to let her go, he doesn't want to lose either of them. but eventually she convinces him, at least enough that he doesn't try and stop her. she goes through with it, but not before having a moment with Lucas and leaving a note for Max. and when she does sacrifice herself, she gets to see max one last time, and they're both heartbroken (elmax kiss/romantic gesture of some sort? maybe, sue me for wanting healthy romantic moments when they're done right). if she dies, if El can't save her, seeing El and Lucas mourn together, but also accepting she's Ina better place, she's with her brother and her mom. that her suffering is over. having this bittersweet bond - the duffers would use Max for some sort of ableist caricature. El and Lucas wouldn't be allowed to truly bond. whether she lives or dies I doubt the duffers would allow her and max to bond, cause people are shipping them now.

I could do a million of these.

like I don't want a happy ending, and I don't think we're getting one, but I'm not expecting it to be done well.

#stranger things #steve harrington #max mayfield #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #el hopper #elmax #elumax #lumax #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #joyce byers #jim hopper #jopper #murray bauman #stranger things 5 #dirtytransmasc

[isfjmel-phleg]

Why I like it: Psmith, Journalist

To be honest, this one is my least favorite of the series. Which is not to say that I don't like it, because I do, but it's very different from the other installments. Mike is barely present, so the friendship at the heart of the previous books isn't plot-crucial here. There's so much focus on the comedic view of America(ns), which would have been fascinatingly foreign to Wodehouse's original readership, that there's less of an actual plot or personal stakes for Psmith himself. Some content has not aged well. You could skip this one and not miss too much, because nothing that happens in it seems to have much, if any, particular bearing on the rest of the series.

But if you're up for it, there's still a reason to read Psmith, Journalist. Well, maybe two. The scene in which Psmith passes Mike off as a cat expert to a feline-loving gangster. And the next step of Psmith's character development.

Psmith was frequently an absolute jerk in the previous book, and he still has his moments here, but this book transports him from the oblivious light-heartedness of his usual genre into (attempted) realism, where he has to realize for the first time that there are people out there in miserable living conditions nothing like the privileged existence he's always led. And it's sobering. It takes a lot for Psmith to drop the flippant persona and get serious, and this is one of the few times. Of course he goes about fighting for the people in the slums in the most Psmithlike way possible, through words and wit and vendettas, and it's possible that somewhere along the way he loses track of exactly why he's fighting in the first place. But it's a step in the right direction that brings him into a wider world, encourages him to put his skills to use for more than just his own amusement and his and Mike's benefit.

It also puts him into some new and challenging experiences. He has to realize that he's utterly lacking in street smarts and would probably not have survived if he weren't in the company of a savvier friend. He gets into a lot of physical altercations, with more dangerous stakes than the trifling skirmishes he's dabbled in before. His hat gets shot off and he makes a huge deal out of the hat's destruction because the alternative is to have to think about how narrowly that bullet missed his head. He gets held at gunpoint in a cab and there's nothing he can do for a long time besides try to stall, and only a deus ex machina manages to save him. Psmith has perhaps gotten a little too comfortable in his ability to talk or bribe his way out of anything after the two previous books, and forcing him to confront his own naivete and mortality--however subtly--is good for him.

And in the end he still saves the day by fast-talking and throwing money at the problem, but he's hopefully been enriched by his experiences in New York and come away from it a more compassionate, self-aware person. He's going to need it for the next book.

For over a decade, Psmith, Journalist was the finale of the series. It ends with Mike and Psmith in Psmith's flat at Cambridge. Psmith sums up his adventures and our outcomes and how he feels about it all while Mike struggles to keep his eyes open. It's the smaller moments of peace and relaxation that stay with him, Psmith observes. Adventures are entertaining, but his heart is most in the pleasures of friendship and domesticity--even if he's still a bit grandiose about the outcome of his recent exploits. He's still very himself, but he's in a happier place than when he first appeared in this series. "The man behind Cosy Moments slept," declares the final line. And we're happy for him.

It's a pleasant, if not especially dramatic, conclusion that returns our hero to a setting evoking the heart of the series. But I don't think it reads like an intended closing of Psmith's entire story. There's evidence that Wodehouse was working on another Psmith book shortly after this one, but it seems to have been abandoned. Which is too bad! A story that flowed immediately from this one thematically, as Mike and Psmith and Psmith in the City do for each other, would have been an excellent addition to Psmith's arc. Where would his newly awakened altruism take him next? How might further growth (or attempts at such) affect him, especially against the backdrop of his law studies at Cambridge? That's a Psmith we'll never get to know, but all the same, the R. Psmith, journalist, who materializes in this volume is a persona that takes our hero a step or two more in the right direction toward personal growth.

#Psmith Pseptember

[kariachi]

Three bajillion years ago I wrote a fic touching on Mike's extra mouths.

Wasn't happy looking back, so I redid it.

~~

One by one, he counted and recounted the bones in the back of the hand, running his thumb over each in turn. There was probably a word for them, he probably could have asked and got an answer right there, but he didn’t really give a shit. What he cared about was that they all seemed to be there- there were no missing, no extra, none out of place. For all intents and purposes, it was a perfectly normal hand, more scarred than most with scratches and punctures- as its owner was prone to be once the makeup was off and you paid attention- but still just like that of anyone else who hadn’t lost a finger or something along the way.

Then, you turned it over. On instinct his thumb moved to trace the palm lines that weren’t there, ghosting over the trails they would have left on anyone else before he caught himself. It wasn’t that the palm was flat and featureless, but that its features were notably different. Subtle lines, like those leading to the thumb, radiated out from the center of the palm, where a small divot betrayed just how different this all was. Far from the most obvious sign that, whatever they might have been, a normal, non-mutant human the owner was not, but more than the likes of him ever had to deal with. Seemingly minor enough to slip by, but a trait that once one person noticed everyone else would look for forever, even if they didn’t know what was hidden underneath.

Technically, Kevin himself didn’t know for certain.

His thumb brushed against the skin to the side of the divot in a loose circle as he considered the best was to ask. A needless endeavor, it seemed, as with a huffing sigh Mike almost didn’t fidget beside him. Just slightly the divot unfurled before the resulting opening began to gape wider, wider, wider, until it took up the vast, vast majority of the palm. Looking into it was like looking into a pit, one lined with rows of large, sharp canine teeth. Each had to be a good half inch or more in length, eight to a row- as he’d guessed from the bitemarks the bastard left everywhere- and with

“Okay, I’m impressed,” Kevin said, eyes wide as he turned Mike’s hand in his own for a good view. He got quick chuckle in response. “I figured about the first set, but four? What do you use the other ones for?” Mike shrugged.

“Not for anything, to be honest. They don’t even move forward if you pull one out, they regrow where they are.” He hemmed a moment. “There was a period during the third grade I picked up chewing pencils but it didn’t last long.”

“Yeah,” Kevin snorted, “there’s some places you just don’t want splinters.”

“And in your back gums is one of them,” came the confirmation with a nod. Humming, Kevin continued his inspection. He could honestly say he’d never seen anything quite like this on anybody before. Oh, the eternal pit mouth he’d seen on one species, but Gourmand had nothing on these as far as he was concerned. It was, as he’d said, impressive.

“Does it- If you flexed your hand…?” Rolling his eyes in a way that far more amused than anything Mike did so, the mouth contorting as he did so that his frontmost teeth clicked gently against their neighbors. The other rows seemed unaffected. When he was done, he held the whole thing flat and shut his teeth together on their own. Kevin gave a low whistle.

“That’s really cool.” There wasn’t a way he couldn’t say it out loud, or judge the way Mike preened when he did. He’d grown up with few enough people honestly being impressed and positive about his powers, that he wasn’t about to withhold it from somebody else. Even if it was the local dipshit.

“They’re also venomous,” Mike said. Over the course of a long heartbeat Kevin dropped both their hands, turning to him with a creased brow and open mouth.

“Seriously?” Taking back his hand, Mike nodded. Kevin released a single ‘huh’. “I wondered how you got people falling over you like that, didn’t know if it was tied to the biting or not.”

“Why,” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow at him with a frown like he was an idiot, “would you not assume it was tied to the biting?”

“I didn’t know you, you could just like biting people,” Kevin said with a shrug. Mike glared, muttering something like ‘fucking moron’ under his breath.

“The teeth in my extra mouths are venomous,” he said slowly, “it makes creatures need to be around me.”

“Handy.” Especially when one considered his original modus operandi. Mike only gave a half nod though.

 “When you’re a teenager looking for attention and easy meals. Less so when you’re a toddler.” With an empty huff of a laugh, he shook his head. “I gained quite the reputation before I got old enough to know better.” Kevin could only nod to that.

“Didn’t we all…” There was an unfortunate tendency for people without powers to assume anyone with them was actively trying to cause trouble if they misused them, no matter how young they were at the time. Back in his hometown people had still been judging Kevin for frying a conveyor belt at the store eight years later. But, the mess that was their standing in society was a whole other topic, one that was too heavy to go into then and there. So, Kevin put a smile back on his face, tilting his chin as Mike. “So, energy powers, super strength, and you’re venomous? And I thought I was the jack of all trades around here.” A bit of tension easing away, Mike chuckled.

“You have more variety, I’ll give you that,” he said. “It’s just that my powers are better.” Snorting, Kevin tried and only just failed to scowl at him, socking him in the arm.

“I’ve kicked your ass before, Morningstar.” A flash of a smirk came in return.

“Only as many times as I’ve kicked yours-”

#fanfic #kevin levin #mike morningstar #technically he could have more than four rows but we *know of* four rows

[ladyannelister]

Someone just brought up a good point about how we’ve been talking nonstop about Will’s feelings, but not enough about Mike’s, and I totally agree — if I’m being honest, it’s Mike’s behavior/feelings that gives me the most hope above all.

I MEAN LOOK AT THIS DUDE!!

Judging from just these two interactions, I can tell you without a doubt that this boy has feelings for his friend. PERIOD

And it is because of these scenes that I don’t think Mike is going to reject Will — Mike may struggle to adequately express himself at first, but he won’t flat out reject Will. Plus, didn’t Finn say that there would be a “mutual understanding and acceptance” between them about their feelings?

If anything, I’m fully embracing the theory that there is mutual pining happening between Will and Mike. And since both Emma and Clueless (basically a modern adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma) are listed as inspiration for season 4, the mutual pining between Mike and Will fits perfectly.

I’m just sayin’…

#i love mutual pining #that boy is in love with his friend #byler #stranger things #byler is endgame #byler proof #mike wheeler #will byers #will x mike #i love all these theories and analyses #it’s been a long time since i was a part of a fandom where there was this much anticipation and anxiety

[drifloonz]

how do u think steven would like.. try to be romantic. i figure hes an actions over words kinda guy but what sorta stuff would he say if he tried expressing his luv directly?

hmmm... good question tbh! ur right i do see him as actions over words. he likes to let his actions speak for him more than his words for sure, and i don't think he really likes to talk unless he's talked to first, yk? so i like to think he'd only be verbally affectionate if you initiated it first.

however, if u were far enough in a relationship w/ him i think he'd do it a liiiittle bit more often, but its just like.. really straightforward compliments if we're talking ""current"" time steven. like. "You look nice today." and not much else unless you respond with more specific flirts, compliments, w/e. his tone is often flat, but he means whatever he says genuinely, he's just sorta bad at .. communicating that? A for effort.

one way he likes to nonverbally show his love is just kissing you when you least expect it - tilting his head and planting a smooch on your cheek and seeing your reactions to it makes him smile a little. things like that. but basically everything he does is with only 3 possible people in mind. miki, you, or himself. usually all 3 or at least you and him. he likes cooking for you and getting baths/showers ready in advance for you too. making the bed for you... small little nice things that add up and show you how he cares. he doesn't really. have anything else to do, anyways.

he also doesn't really know how to initiate affectionate talk like that unless you do it first cuz then he has a sort of topic to go off of and usually tease you with. ( eg if you said he looked nice, he'd respond with like "Thanks, but you look way better." and smirk a little. he's better with quips and cynical/snarky/clever responses than he is with initiating any conversation, especially one like that. )

of course when he was a teenager, not fucked up, and neither of the people he knew with M names were dead, he had a bit more confidence to him, but he was still probably a little awkward with it bc. he was a teenager. like... coming up to your door with flowers, trying to impress your parent(s) to get in their good graces so he could take you out with minimal fuss from them, that sorta thing. very stereotypical semi-hopeless romantic who is hopelessly in love with you and will mostly show that through cheesy gestures.

and he was also more talkative back then. not like extremely, mike was still far more talkative and talked for him sometimes, but he talked like. a regular amnt back then since he was comfy and more confident - he was well known and liked in pallet town and eventually the rest of kanto ( at least for a while ) for reason - he was a good listener and also just was nice to talk to and often checked in on people and talked to them regularly, along with being a sort of older sibling figure along with mike to younger kids in pallet at the time. and also his charmander was rare and cool, which was a plus. living in a small town like pallet tends to make your social life like that, though - at least locally.

anyways, back then he'd prob say really stupid pick-up lines and it probably makes his partner cringe a little, but he still says things like that bc it gets a little snort and an elbow nudge from them, and he likes the way his partner laughs. very cheesy romantic boy. honest to god probably had a book full of pick-up lines and/or just made them himself and wrote them down in a book to use later on people.

unless they genuinely like cheesy compliments and pick-up lines, then he continues bc they like it. nowadays he might do that but like. rarely. and usually with the intention of irritating his partner bc not many people unironically like pick-up lines, at least to him.

anyways! yea. dats steven 4 u.

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